#but after cell division you keep growing and growing

[shallowseeker]

The weirdest ship I've thought about?

If they'd gone the direction of Jack-and-dark Kaia. They had some odd tension in Galaxy Brain, plus some interesting themes of not fitting into the worlds they want to be a part of:

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Then Claire would have her Kaia:

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And Jack would have something weird with messy, psycho alt!Kaia who definitely unfairly expects too much from Jack:

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Dean would not approve:

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ANYWAY, on top of being weird and hilarious to me personally that Claire and Jack hate each other love doppelganger people...

They could've hammered home the theme that alternates are their very own individual people and, like Chuck and Amara, can individuate even further through their continued experiences.

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 4.2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 12k (oh hey look this one is actually shorter than the last)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the after.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, continuing the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, hidden inventory angst, mayhaps some poor coping mechanisms, maybe some codependency

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: HIDDEN INVENTORY TIME! also, putting on full blast a couple of common things with autism—strong sense of justice and a love of routines! the next year will most likely be split up again because i have so many plans and most of them aren't good! we do be talking about JJK here. please like, reblog, and comment! it makes my heart flutter!

chapter links: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR [PART I], AO3

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART II]

At the bottom of the mountain path that leads up to campus, you’re seated on a bench. You were here alone as you waited on the car to pick you up, but Satoru and Suguru showed up. They detail the specifics of the incredibly important mission personally assigned to them by Lord Tengen. The more they reveal to you about this, the more anxious you become, the bigger the cloud of dread over your head grows. Your nervousness is made apparently by the way you nervously spin your cell phone between your fingers.

There’s so much about this that you hate. It’s too big. It truly is the weight of the world on their shoulders—the jujutsu world. It isn’t right that they’re being entrusted with something that could change the course of every sorcerer’s life. Shouldn’t that kind of pressure be left to a more experienced sorcerer? This is the work of adults.

Another thing that’s been bothering you…

“Erase?”

Satoru and Suguru are standing in front of you, most likely too nervous to sit still. You’re glad that they’re not blinded by their ego and seem genuinely troubled. Satoru is nervous, though he’d never admit to such a thing. He rocks on his feet from side to side. Coins jingle as he tosses them up in the air and catches them.

Suguru has his arms crossed over his chest, frowning. “Yes,” he confirms quietly. “When the Star Plasma Vessel fully assimilates with Lord Tengen, there will be nothing left of her.”

“That…” You duck your head to hide the sadness that you know is written all over your face. It doesn’t matter how you feel. You are a sorcerer, and this is no time to be soft. At the cost of one life, Lord Tengen will continue to live, sound of mind, and all the barriers that keep sorcerers safe will remain intact. “That seems cruel,” you blurt.

“So…what do you want us to do?” Satoru suddenly asks.

Your head snaps up, attention back on them, blinking in shock. “Huh?”

Instead of Satoru, it’s Suguru that repeats, “What do you want us to do? That’s why we came to you.”

Your brain stutters over their words, unable to process the things they’re saying to you. You sit there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “What…what does that even mean?” You press your thumb to the center of your forehead. Stop when you realize you’re copying Suguru. “Why do you want to know my opinion? What does it matter? What I’ve got to say means nothing.”

“What a silly thing to say, Squid,” Suguru scolds. “Your opinion means everything.”

With a little more thought, a little more looking between them and studying them, you finally understand where this is all coming from and where it’s all going. There’s an air about them, more to their nervousness than just stress over the weight on their shoulders. “You want to do something really stupid,” you sigh, “and you want me to give my blessing which also makes me an accomplice.”

“Accomplice is such a dirty word.” Satoru pouts. “Is it illegal to get some advice from our best friend?”

If it was Shoko here, she’d already be walking away. Unfortunately, you care about these assholes. “What stupid thing are you planning to do?”

“Nothing yet,” Satoru answers vaguely.

You ignore him in favor of Suguru. If you need to pout, you will, and he’ll cave because you hardly ever bring it out. “Satoru is right, technically. The decision won’t be up to us. Satoru just asked a logical question—what if the Star Plasma Vessel doesn’t go through with the assimilation?”

“You know what would happen,” you point out flatly.

Satoru pipes up with, “We don’t know that for sure!” You stare at him, deadpan. He gets all huffy because you didn’t just simply accept that. “Look, the world always has a way of balancing itself out. If this person doesn’t want to assimilate with Tengen, then someone else will eventually come along that does want to. Tengen will be fine.”

“Let’s say this girl doesn’t want to go through with the assimilation, what will you do then? Are you going to protect her for the rest of her life? They’ll send every sorcerer after her. You might even have to fight Lord Tengen himself. They’ll label you as curse users—”

“Will they?” The ego is back in play because Satoru declares, “We’re the strongest.”

Suguru tries to soften the severity of this stupid plan by explaining, “We’re too valuable as sorcerers. We’d be severely punished, maybe, but I doubt it. The girl has a caretaker with her, so we can cover them while they make themselves disappear.”

You throw up your arms in frustration. “Why did you even ask me, then? You’ve clearly made up your minds!”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right,” Satoru admits while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Believe it or not, we’ve actually thought about this more than you think we have,” Suguru tells you. “Everything you said is true. We know there’s a possibility that they do actually banish us and declare us as curse users. There’s a chance that we won’t come back—”

“But we don’t want to lose you!” Satoru interrupts. He’s a little too enthusiastic about this prospect because he goes on to excitedly ask, “If we leave, will you run away with us?”

The answer is out of your mouth before you can even give it a second thought. “You know I will.”

There’s a little part of your brain that reasons you should’ve taken more time to think about this, but the bigger part of your brain knows that the answer wouldn’t change. Somehow, that was the easiest yet most difficult answer in the world. No matter which option you chose, there would be a huge shift in your life, so it boils down to what would be easier to accept. If you were to stay behind like a good sorcerer, you would have to find a way to live normally without two of the most important people in your life and that…

The thought of not having Suguru or Satoru in your life is so terrifying that it makes you physically ill.

You’ve started to spiral. It’s not until a hand comes in view and yanks on the string of your hooded sweatshirt that you’re pulled out of your darkening thoughts. When you tilt your head up, Satoru is towering above you, smiling with such a genuineness that it makes your heart hurt.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all work out,” Satoru tries to assure you.

Your voice is weak, shaky. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

It’s either to make you feel better or lighten your mood, but Satoru holds out a crooked pinky. You lock it with your own. Then, to be cheeky, he extends his other pinky to Suguru. “A pinky promise? That’s childish, even for you, Satoru.” But Suguru takes it. And maybe you’re taking this a little too seriously, but you also offer your other hand to Suguru. His expression softens before he’s taking it.

In the end, the three of you are making a promise to each other.

“See?” Satoru grins. “It’s a super promise.”

“Okay,” you accept quietly. “Be safe, then. I’ll see you in a few days.”

***

Gojo Satoru is…

…was a fucking liar.

***

Just as you’ve coaxed the cursed spirit into exorcising itself, Kusakabe’s cell phone rings. He’s been off to the side, insistent to see your cursed technique for himself. Remembering that Sensei said Kusakabe could potentially be the person to vouch for you to become Grade 1, you bowed and did as he asked.

Anyway, the call.

As you approach him, you see him rush through many emotions at once—panic, anger, relief, and resignation. When his gaze darts over to you, he looks at you with a sympathy that makes your stomach start twisting into knots. On instinct, you pull your phone out to check for any texts, but there’s been nothing since Suguru said that he was on a plane back to Tokyo with the Star Plasma Vessel.

Kusakabe calls out your name, gesturing for you to pick up the pace. When you stand across from him, you shift nervously, clutching tightly at your sketchbook. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry,” Kusakabe starts with a soft apology. He takes a step toward you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “There’s been an incident at the school…” You wait on the news with bated breath. It’s bad. It has to be bad, your brain reasons, because you’ve learned Kusakabe is a naturally reserved person. He doesn’t seem like the type to show sympathy so easily unless it’s really, really bad.

“Gojo Satoru is dead.”

The sketchbook lands in the puddle at your feet as you drop everything and run.

You never leave Suguru’s side.

Apparently, he was found outside the Tombs of the Star Corridor—the place Lord Tengen lives. The wounds went deep, needed to be stitched. The medical staff at the infirmary said it was a shock that he hadn’t bled out.

When Shoko returns from Kyoto and clears the medical staff out, she curses their shoddy stitch work. That irritation is turned on you because you refuse to let go of his hand and she snaps at you, but you won’t budge. She harshly tells you to make yourself useful, so you help her remove the top half of his gown. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to quickly look away when the red, jagged slices across his chest are revealed to you both.

“That’s going to scar,” Shoko mumbles as she glides her hands over his chest. You’re so close that you’re in her crossfire and the aches and exhaustion from keeping vigil fade away. “Where is…” Her hands, glowing white with her technique, clench. “Did they say where they put him?”

It takes you a few minutes of swallowing down grief before you answer, “They said his body is missing.”

“Yeah,” she agrees hoarsely. “Yeah, that makes sense. That idiot always bragged about the bounties on his head.”

“Or…or maybe…maybe he’s…”

Shoko knows what you’re going to say before you even say it. “I walked past where it happened,” she explains lowly. “Duck, I’m sorry, but there’s no way he came out of that alive.” She powers down her technique. You assume there wasn’t that much damage and he’s been unconscious so long because of some painkillers the medical staff gave him. “They found the Star Plasma Vessel’s caretaker. I’m going to examine her body. See if there are any clues that can lead us to whoever has his body.”

You know you’re in denial. Logically, if he was alive, he would be here, in the infirmary. But…you can’t accept it. You just can’t. “I’m going to find him,” you swear.

“What are you going to do against someone that killed Gojo Satoru?”

You remember the finger of Ryomen Sukuna. The cursed energy that touched you. “I’ll make him tear his own heart out,” you say furiously.

“You’ll give yourself an aneurysm, if you could do it at all.” Shoko puts her hand on the top of your head. “Don’t make us lose another friend today.” You cover your mouth to muffle a sob. She reels you in, so your face is squished against her chest. “There was nothing we could do. We have to accept that.” She bends over and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “This is our life now. It’s what we chose when we became sorcerers.”

But why does it have to be like this?

It doesn’t take much longer before Suguru is waking up.

You have to help him when he tries to sit up and sways too much to the side. The drugs are still lingering in his system, so you nervously watch as he blinks slowly and tries to process. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you also want to comfort him, so you compromise by reaching out to take his hand and squeeze tight. That simple gesture holds his attention. There’s something about it…or maybe he’s remembering everything that happened before…

Suguru’s expression doesn’t change, but tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.

You practically drag him forward by the front of his hospital gown, desperate to get your arms around him. “I’m here,” you promise as your own tears begin to fall again. “Suguru, I’m here.” His arms lock around your waist. His quiet, hitching breaths are in your ear, and his shoulders are subtly shaking under your arms.

“I failed, Squid,” he chokes out.

It never should’ve been put on you, you want to say but what point is there in that anymore? It doesn’t change the fact that it happened and Suguru was the only one left behind. We can’t save everyone. Empty words. Strength has cushioned you all from the realities of sorcery. Suguru has been told that he’s the strongest practically since you two came to Tokyo. He’s not supposed to lose.

Satoru wasn’t supposed to die.

“I’m here,” you repeat because it’s the only thing that you can think to say.

Now that he’s completely healed and the painkillers have worn off, there’s no more reason to keep Suguru in the infirmary. And when no one is around, he admits that he wants to be left alone in his room. You can tell yourself that you’re terrified to leave him by himself, but, deep down, you know it’s that you’re scared he’ll disappear if you don’t stay with him. This is all somehow so surreal yet so viscerally true. Simultaneously dream-like and so real. Like a child, you want to cling to him. Have you not lost enough already?

The two of you walk out of the infirmary, hand-in-hand. At the sight of Sensei waiting, you puff up like a street cat. You sidestep and put yourself in front of Suguru, flashing your metaphorical teeth and hissing. “Get out of the way.”

Suguru and Sensei both sigh your name. You don’t back down. Just square your chin. “The campus is still covered in fly heads.”

“Go exorcise them, then. You can make more cursed corpses.”

“I’m not here to ask Suguru to handle it,” Sensei gently corrects your assumption. “I agree with you. Suguru should rest.”

You relax a little. “Oh.”

“It would be easier if you can exorcise them all at once.” Sensei frowns. “Or make them disperse, at least. They can exit the barrier. If they make it off the mountain, into the city, they won’t cause too many problems for non-sorcerers.”

You angle your body toward Suguru, glancing up at him with furrowed brows. “Will you wait for me?”

“I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he whispers.

It’s not what you wanted to hear, but you can’t push him. You wordlessly nod, squeeze his hand, and then he’s walking away, headed toward the dorms. You watch him until he’s completely out of sight, immediately twitchy and nervous when you can’t see him anymore. Desperate to be beside him again, your cursed energy flares up.

“Not here,” Sensei says when he feels you gearing up. “You won’t reach them from here. They’re mostly centralized in one area.” He takes a deep breath. “You need to prepare yourself. They haven’t cleaned up yet.”

Cleaned…?

Oh.

It’s where Satoru was…

For a moment, you doubt that you can ever prepare yourself for something like this. You’re no stranger to gore, though, you remind yourself. You’re a sorcerer. You’ve seen the result of a curse’s rampage. But…those people weren’t your best friend, as cold as it is to think.

The only thing that pushes you forward is realizing that if it isn’t you, it’ll be Suguru.

There’s no way he came out of that alive, Shoko had told you.

You understand now, what she meant.

There’s a small crater that hints to the force that he was thrown down with. Hit with. You don’t know. No, it must’ve been some weapon because…the blood. The blood. There’s so much. It’s splattered everywhere across the concrete. The man that killed Satoru hated him. Loathed him. This wasn’t a clean and professional kill like with the Star Plasma Vessel and her caretaker who were taken down with neat shots to the head.

The monster that did this didn’t even hesitate when he confronted children. Because that’s what you all are, in the end. Children with too much power at your fingertips being guided by old men too scared to get their own hands dirty and all too happy to let the new generations die on their behalf.

And this is already so horrifying as is, but the assassin had to defile these corpses, too.

He wouldn’t even let Satoru have a proper burial.

I just want to find him.

You hunch in on yourself, fists curling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The shattered pieces of your heart scream that one demand—I want to find him, I want to find him, I just want to fucking find him and bring him home. You know it will never be. This world is not kind. But, nonetheless, someone answers your call. Multiple someone’s, actually.

Around you, the fly heads have frozen in place. They float listlessly, even their buzzing quieted, waiting with anticipation for a command that you didn’t recognize you were preparing to make. The command that you should make, the one for them to exorcise themselves, is on the top of your tongue. What use can the fly heads be? From what you were told, the attacker left no residuals behind. The residuals left behind by Satoru and Suguru would be too faint…

…they would be too faint for a sorcerer to track. A cursed spirit is different. Their senses are different. They’re sharper and more attuned to cursed energy because it is both their life force given by non-sorcerers and a threat when wielded by sorcerers. Weaker spirits are constantly on the hunt for more cursed energy to gain power.

You could command them to search for Satoru’s residuals, but your influence over them will wane with distance until they’ve forgotten the order completely.

Unless…

Unless you can influence a spirit that you know is bound to another.

Die, you demand of the fly heads.

Slowly, they all start to expand around you until they explode with a loud pop. You don’t stick around any longer to make sure they’re all gone. Sensei can take care of that. Just like he can handle the few fly heads that have spread around campus. You’re too busy planning now.

For the rest of the afternoon and the whole night through, Suguru doesn’t speak, and you don’t make him. He really only moves when you do because when you crawled into bed with him, he’d manhandled you until he could curl around you and place his head above the beat of your heart. You don’t ask him about it. You understand the reason that he clings to you. It’s why you can’t stop running your fingers through his hair, can’t stop touching him. You don’t want him to slip away.

Around three in the morning, Shoko texts you. She’s done with her autopsy. Eavesdropping, too. There are no clues. She’s overheard Sensei on his cell phone with higher-ups and they have no idea where to start because so many people have put bounties on his head over the years. They’re also scrambling to figure out how to break the news to Lord Tengen that there will be no merger. You tell her that she’s done enough and to try and get some sleep.  

After you snap your phone shut and drop it on the bed, Suguru immediately picks it up. Your fingers itch to stop him from reading the texts, but that’s not your place. From your position above him, you watch his eyes carefully scan over the text, face unmoving.

The room is bathed in darkness once again when he snaps it shut. You think that’s the end of that, but he whispers, “I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t, either,” you confess as quietly. Even seeing all that blood…this is being in denial. Is that what’s going on? You’ve never had a loss like this ever before. You don’t know what to do with yourself. No. That’s a lie. You know what you want to do. “It’s not fair. That they took him, I mean.”

“I’m going to look for him,” Suguru announces. “I…just wanted this one last night with you.”

You tug at his hair meanly. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” Suguru replies with an air of finality.

“Bullshit,” you snap. You’re not letting this go. “No, you’re not leaving me here like some—”

Suguru suddenly rolls over on top of you, knocking the breath out of you. He lifts up on his hands and knees, shifting up so that his face is hovering directly over yours. With only the glow of the moon, it’s hard to make out the fine details of his face, but you can see the frown, the hard set of his jaw. He snatches your wrists, keeping them pinned up by your head, immobilizing you completely and giving you no option but to look at him.

“He has no cursed energy in exchange for a Heavenly Pact. Do you understand what that means?” Suguru asks harshly. “What are you going to do against that? You’re—” weak. You squeeze your eyes shut, hurt lancing through you. He tries to soften the reality with, “You’re not suited against that type of fighting style. You’re better for support.”

“Let me support you, then!” You dig your nails into whatever skin of his you can touch. “I know I’m weak, but…” Your bottom lip wobbles. Definitely not helping your case. “You couldn’t beat him, either. You…you said that you were split up, so…maybe two is better than one…”

“I’m not losing you. I can’t lose you, Squid. Can’t you understand that?”

“But you want to make me grieve you, too?” You scramble for anything that can make him change his mind. “I doubt we’re going to run into danger, anyway. It’s been so long already that…that he’s probably collected the bounty on both heads.” You lean up to knock your forehead against his. “Please, Suguru.”

“No.”

“You promised! You promised that it’d be me and you!”

As your vision blurs, you can make out Suguru’s expression softening. “Don’t cry, Squid,” he begs. One of his big hands let go of your wrist, cupping your cheek. “Why do you have to make this so much harder on me, huh?” He flops down next to you, carefully guiding you to bury your face in the crook of his neck where you continue to cry. “Okay. Okay, I’ll bring you. At the first sign of danger, you have to run.”

You won’t, but you nod and lie, “Okay.”

Little do you know, you’re not the only one who’s lying.

With the sunlight comes the truth of the matter. You wake up alone, the bed empty, and with a note on the nightstand beside both your cell phone and Suguru’s. I’m sorry, the note reads in his neat handwriting. I’ll be safe, but I’m not risking you. At the very end of the note, there’s a line of text, but you can’t tell what he wrote because it’s so scratched out. The page is nearly ripped on that little section.

You, who planned to lie yourself, have no room to feel so betrayed. Anger, though, you think you’re allowed. Grief crashes over you all over again, too. You chose this life, you know, but shouldn’t children be protected a little longer? It never should’ve come to this. Ten minutes is all you can allow yourself because you don’t know how long Suguru has been gone and you need to find him.

Before you rush out the door, you shoot Shoko a text for when she wakes up, letting her know your plan. You also tell her that if he comes back before you then she needs to punch him in the nose on your behalf.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun is setting, there’s a breakthrough.

By this point, you’re jittery and exhausted. You’ve swallowed down so much coffee to keep yourself going that it’s probably in your veins now, but you’re at the point of exhaustion that it’s just not doing anything anymore. Not only have you been walking around the city on foot, but you’ve been keeping your technique running as you have cursed spirits try to lead you to Satoru’s residuals. With as much cursed energy as he had, it should still be radiating off his body enough for a spirit to pick up. That’s what you’d thought, anyway.

Until every spirit that you pull under your influence just…stops. It’s like there’s some invisible barrier that they simply won’t cross. You step past that point, and they’re compelled to follow you, yes, but they struggle against you. Some of the stronger ones outright free themselves and go running.

Something or someone is scaring them.

The problem is that you don’t know how wide the perimeter is of this barrier, how close or far away that Satoru is. But when a pack of vaguely centipede-shaped curses rush past you, out of the invisible area, you know your solution. Just like in movies where animals are the first to know of a disaster and try to outrun it, curses are acting the same. You will run toward where they are running away. At some point, you’ll have to find epicenter.

As you’re still running, further ahead of you, in the distance, there is an explosion—a bright flash of red light, a boom so loud that it vibrates in your chest, and a shake of the earth that makes you stumble. The non-sorcerers around you do the same, some of them even tripping, but they’re not turning in the direction of the flash. No, between all the chatter, you make out people questioning if it was an earthquake or a terrorist attack.

Non-sorcerers can’t see cursed techniques.

And then there was that red light…

Red.

There is something rising up inside you, something dangerous. Hope. All the blood that stained the concrete, the horror that Suguru described that you know extended to Satoru even if Suguru didn’t witness it himself…that all flies out of your head. This is the only thing that makes sense, you reason. There’s only one logical conclusion for why cursed spirits would be running away, refusing to pass that point. A dead boy’s residuals wouldn’t scare them like that.

He’s alive, you think. What else could it be? Nothing, your desperate heart reasons. Then, it’s on repeat. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive—

Not even five minutes pass before, in the middle of your sprinting, there’s yet another explosion. With this one comes a bright purple light and an even bigger explosion. It sends you stumbling, tripping over your feet, and you manage to catch yourself on your hands and knees, but they don’t come out unscathed. They’re busted open, but you ignore that pain. Adrenaline has you up and back to running.

Looming tall, getting closer and closer, is a temple. Gold and white marble. An eyesore that makes your retinas burn. Is this…the headquarters of the Star Religious Group that Suguru had told you about? One of the two organizations that was targeting them on their mission? It must be. Kusakabe said that the other group, Q, was defunct. Satoru and Suguru even sent pictures posing with the leaders that they beat.

The path that leads to the entrance is lined with tall pillars on either side. The further down the path you run, the evidence of a fight becomes more and more abundant. Some of the pillars are totally crushed, others chopped in half, rubble everywhere, and practically stinking of Satoru’s cursed energy.

Why…why does it feel so different? Are you…you’re not imagining that, are you? For someone that should be on the verge of death, it’s so strong. Stronger than it’s ever been before. The weight of it is almost oppressive. Familiar, but…sharper. You’ve unthinkingly slowed to a stop. Too stuck in thought to move, maybe, or…too scared. It’s as if the connection with the cursed spirits is lingering and their terror is bleeding over to you. Weak and feeble prey against a predator so unimaginable.

This can’t be your Satoru, can it?

“Sketch.”

And the last year and a half of memories comes crashing down on your head when you hear the sound of his voice, suffocating the noise of your panicked hindbrain. When you raise your head, unaware that you’d ducked it down to stare at nothing, he is standing there. A few meters away from you. His blazer is torn open, white button-up underneath it stained with blood, the same as a section of hair covering his forehead. It’s a horrifying miracle…but a miracle, nonetheless.

“Sa—” your mouth snaps shut because your throat clogged with emotion. You don’t know what the fuck you’d say, so you just don’t bother with it. You shut the hell up and run. Tears are blurring your vision, you’re more out of breath than you were getting here because the sobs are bubbling up in your chest, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not until you know that he is solid and real and alive.

It’s when you throw yourself right at him, arms locking around his neck, that the dam of emotion inside breaks. Before you know it, you’re sobbing. “Satoru!” You’re being rough with him. Clinging too tight. One of your hands is grasping tightly the hair at the nape of his neck and the other fisting the fabric of his blazer. “Satoru!”

Satoru mumbles your name, shoulders slumping under your grasp. “Oh.” His voice cracks a little. Then, he’s giving you a hug of his own, hands splayed across your back. “Oh,” he repeats, almost dazedly. “It all still feels so, so amazing, Sketch.” You try to lean back, but he smushes his cheek against yours, sighing in something you’d think is pleasure. “I want to keep feeling this way forever…with you, Sketch.”

“Satoru—”

The breath catches in your throat when you can lean back enough to catch his gaze with your own. How did you not see these eyes before? Something has changed. Infinity isn’t active, but they’re still glowing bright. Sparkling like the sun glinting off the clearest ocean waters. These eyes are beautiful, entrancing, and…almost inhuman. His world has shifted. He has stepped up on another level. He—

Satoru is kissing you.

You’d been so stunned that you didn’t pay attention to his face inching closer to yours until you feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth. It’s a soft touch of his lips against yours. You could…you should…stop this. You need to…to…check on him. But…oh. Oh, he cups your cheek, hand so big and so, so warm. His hand is at the small of your back now, a gesture that sends pleasure up your spine.

It’s a clumsy kiss, maybe. You’re not sure what to do with your mouth and your noses bump against each other. Then, he tilts his head to the side a bit and it falls into place like two puzzle pieces coming together. Your eyes flutter shut and instead of pushing him away, you’re tugging him closer by the lapels of his blazer.

Heat explodes across your body when he takes it a step further, tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. You’re not sure if he’s aware of it or not, but it’s a dirty move when he cups your cheeks with both his hands. He tries to pull you closer, like he can’t get enough of this. Of you. And that’s…that fucks with a person’s brain. You’ve been swept up in his whirlwind, so you go with it. Your mouth opens and he’s licking into your mouth. You always thought it’d feel gross, but it’s just…hot. The smacking of your lips, the small noise of pleasure he gives…

Satoru pulls himself away from you, the both of you panting harshly. “I…” He licks his lips. “I am super high right now.”

“High,” you repeat hoarsely without much thought to it. You’re dazed and he’s pinning you down with those eyes again. It takes you a good minute to comprehend what he said. When it hits, your body jerks. “High?”

Instead of doing something like elaborating, his brows furrow, and he turns to look over his shoulder at the temple. “Hey, I need to get Amanai’s body. You might wanna leave.” He faces you again, looking like he’s trying to gather his all thoughts. “I blew a hole in that Zen’in guy with Purple. And…I kind of want to slaughter all those people in there. I can see them in this big meeting room, clapping because she’s dead now. I don’t want you seeing that.”

Don’t do that, you should say.

But how can you find mercy in your heart for people who celebrate the death of a child? Who paid a man to swoop in and shatter your life? Those aren’t good people. They’re not innocent. Shouldn’t they be punished in some way?

“Be safe,” you say instead.

Satoru doesn’t kill them.

Not soon after Satoru left you had called Sensei to tell him that Satoru was alive and found the Star Plasma Vessel’s body. And almost as soon as you hang up the phone after Sensei assures you that Shoko and the cleanup crew will be there shortly, Suguru shows up.

When they walk out of the temple, Suguru comes back to meet you while Satoru goes on ahead to hand over the body to those that will make sure she’s treated with respect. Suguru doesn’t look at you when he tells you that he talked Satoru down from killing them all.

“There would be no meaning it in.”

It’s clear that Suguru is troubled, trying to justify that to himself. While you don’t really believe him…well, no. It’s more that you simply don’t care if there’s meaning.

“You’re right,” you lie as a comfort and reach out to thread your fingers through his.

***

For four days after they come home, you never see them.

Suguru is still texting you—somewhat, anyway, since he’s more focused on taking care of Satoru who hadn’t been able to sleep for three days straight. Still high on…something. You and Suguru were trying to speculate what put him in such a state since there was no point in asking a practically incoherent Satoru. He died, Suguru told you in the middle of night two. I think, he then followed up with. The Six Eyes are fully realized. All the pieces fell in place.

He’s high on the power, you think you summarize correctly.

Suguru thinks that Satoru is finally leveling out when he sleeps for twenty-four hours straight.

You’re the first person to know that he’s awake when you’re walking across campus, planning on a late night konbini run because you can’t sleep, and almost get smacked in the head by a floating wallet. You duck it, but a rock gets tangled in your hair. There’s a bunch of rocks and some empty soda bottles, looking like one of those asteroid fields that you see in space movies.

“Oops,” a familiar voice calls out. “My bad, Sketch.”

“Satoru?” You fully expect him to be there behind you, but when you turn around, there’s nothing. You look off to either side of you, too. Nothing. “Where—” wait. Did it sound like he was speaking above you? You tilt your head up and, yeah, you definitely forgot that Satoru could float even before…everything.

Satoru is cross-legged, floating there in the air. All the debris surrounds him now as if they were planets in his orbit. Your brows furrow. “Why does it feel like you’re showing off?”

“I’m not!” Satoru protests with a pout.

“It just…feels different,” you mumble while trying to figure out what exactly is giving you that idea. This isn’t totally out of the ordinary for him. He was blocking massive chunks of destroyed buildings and tearing apart houses before. “Oh. Your output is so low now.”

“Bingo!”

There was a little delay, but your brain finally catches up. “You’re awake! What are you doing out here? You should’ve gone to see Shoko as soon as you were up!”

Satoru waves the concern off. “I’m running Reverse Curse Technique now. I’m good.”

“You…what?” Logically, that makes the most sense. Despite all the blood, you hadn’t seen a mark on Satoru that day at the temple.

“Yeah! Who knew that getting stabbed in the neck is what it’d take for me to figure out Reverse Curse Technique, huh? Never let Shoko become a teacher. She can’t explain things for shit.”

Avoiding overwhelming emotions isn’t a new concept for you. You’re notorious for it. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the emotions for Satoru, though. Stabbed in the neck—you didn’t think it was possible for your heart to crack more than it already has.

“Come down here so I can hug you,” you choke out.

Satoru blinks, looking almost baffled by your turn of emotion. Does he really not know how fucked up that is? Can he not understand why you’d be upset? How terrified he must’ve been, you think as you reach out for him when he slowly lowers back to the ground. Sure, he beat Death, but that doesn’t make the sight any less horrifying.

“You gotta stop being such a crybaby or I’m gonna have to give you a new nickname,” he muses when you get your arms around him. His arms slip around your shoulders, crushing you against his chest. “I’m okay, Sketch. Alive and kicking. Got some badass scars and, as the geezers in my clan would say, my Six Eyes are fully realized.”

Be serious about this, you want to demand of him, but who are you to do that? “Don’t make fun of me for worrying about you.”

“Suguru is already doing enough of it, y’know,” Satoru remarks softly. “Go worry about him.”

“I can worry about you both, thanks.”

“You’re cute, Sketch.”

The memory of his mouth against yours makes itself painfully known. Back of your neck prickling with heat, you try to bury your face further against his chest, not wanting him to see whatever might be on your face. In the silence between you two, your mind runs through so many questions. Does he remember? Why in the world did he do that? If it’d been Suguru there instead, would Satoru have kissed him instead? Should you even ask about it? What would you say if you did? Do you even know enough about how you feel for him to have that talk?

Satoru demands to escort you to the konbini when you tell him what has you out so late. He’s almost aggressive when he takes your hand in his and starts tugging you forward again, listing off all the snacks that he wants to buy. At the bottom of the mountain, finally out on the street, you notice that he still hasn’t let go of your hand, so you stop him. You’re fully prepared to talk about it. Okay, you’re not, but you feel like you need to talk about it.

But then, under the glow of a streetlamp, you catch the glint of that scar at the base of his throat.

You’ll bring up the kiss some other time.

***

“What?”

For once, Sensei doesn’t look you in the eye. “You heard me.”

“Did I? Because it sounds like you told me that some old man is here to force Satoru and Suguru out on solo missions—”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out your name. “It’s just to ease them back out in the field—”

“Stop lying!” Sensei’s mouth snaps shut at the sound of your echoing shout. “I’m not dumb! These are assignments that only they can do as Special Grades. The higher-ups wouldn’t bother with wasting them on something the rest of us grunts can do, would they?”

“Please. Calm down—”

“It hasn’t even been three weeks!”

Sensei calls in backup. Looking over your shoulder, expression pinched in discomfort, he begs by way of order, “Nanami, Haibara, let’s end class early. Can you take her back to the girls’ dorm—”

There have been only a few times that you’ve ever been so furious in your life and, not-so-shockingly, they all had to do with Suguru. When you were both eight, inseparable, Suguru had finally confessed where his bruises truly came from. You learned that the lack of food wasn’t from poverty or neglect, but maliciousness. The bruises weren’t from scraps with spirits that he was trying to tame.

You’d been downright distraught. You hadn’t let him leave your house for as long as you could. Begging your parents to let him live with you, offering your plate up if there wasn’t enough food in the house for four people. When Suguru wasn’t in the room, you told them what he said, insistent on your parents calling the police for help because you knew they were supposed to help with bad people and what else were Suguru’s parents?

The first few times, your parents lied and said that they’d handle it. After a year of nothing happening, you’d gone to a teacher instead because your parents outright told you that how Suguru’s parents disciplined him wasn’t their business. Suguru was out for about a week, and you hadn’t been allowed over. When he came back to school, arm in a cast, he told you about a person visiting, and how furious it’d made his parents when that lady left.

Finally, you learned a cruel lesson—that trying to help would only punish Suguru.

Maybe that’s something you should remember right now, but…you’re blinded by that same sense of justice that you’d had as an eight-year-old girl. You have a voice here. You’ll scream until your throat bleeds. If they want sacrifices, you’ll offer yourself up in place of Suguru and Satoru. Just to let them have peace a little while longer.

“Senpai?” Haibara hesitantly touches your shoulder.

Nanami and Haibara, smartly, move out of your way when you whirl around and storm out of the classroom. You’re not sure how much time you have left, but you need to ditch your escorts, so you go back to the dorms like Sensei requested, fuming the entire time. You don’t speak a word to your juniors, scared that you’ll snap at them unnecessarily. They’re just following orders, same as every other fucking sorcerer.

As soon as you’re inside your room, you’re immediately sneaking out the window, and pinpointing Satoru and Suguru’s cursed energies. They’re at the entrance’s torii gate, getting lectured by some withered husk. Satoru, as always, looks disinterested, but Suguru…

Suguru looks tired.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The old man slowly turns around to face you, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think you’re talking to like that?” For someone that’s hunched over and clutches to his cane with a trembling hand, he sure does have his nose stuck up pretty high in the air. “Ah, I know you.” He says your name. “Mind your tongue, girl. You’ll ruin your chances at success with this type of behavior.”

“They almost died and you’re throwing them back out in the field this soon?”

He scoffs. “Is that what this is about? I’ve spoken with Yaga. They’ve been healed.”

“Are you stupid?” If he can’t scrounge up an emotion in his black heart, you’ll appeal to logic. “Do you not understand that if you don’t give them proper rest and run them ragged then they’re more likely to make mistakes and die? Let someone else handle whatever you want them to do.”

“Who? Like you? Stop acting like a child. You may be a sorcerer, but don’t think you could be of any use other than collecting information. You’re weak.” You hate this man, but you hate that he’s right even more. Is running your mouth really the only thing that you can do? “Know your place.”  

Behind the old man, Suguru and Satoru puff up.

Something ugly is festering inside you as you watch him walk away. You’re not sure that you’ve ever felt so much hatred toward another person. How can such weak people have all this power? What more can you compare them to other than an invasive parasite—hiding themselves away as their host supports them and weakens itself until there’s nothing left and then they’re on to the next pray. That’s how they rose so high. Everyone else threw themselves on the sword until only these cowards remained. It isn’t fair that you’re forced to bow down to them.

You should worship us, you think viciously. Rage is making your body go haywire. You’re trembling all over, fists clenched so tightly that your nails are digging into your skin causing sticky, wet blood to slip through your fingers. Prostrate yourself before us, you wish you could scream at him. How much blood have they spilt with their callous and cruel demands? You can’t even begin to imagine, but you smell it. You taste it. You can’t even register that something is slipping from your nose, over the bow of your lips. Your eyes are losing focus, your ears are ringing, and you’re shocked that you can focus enough to think anymore with how agonizing this headache is.

Prostrate yourself.

A lot happens all at once. Just as someone snatches your upper arm, the higher-up goes down with a crack. An actual crack of a bone. He twists himself awkwardly as he’s going down, ending up spread eagle on the ground right in front of your feet. He turns his head to the side, forehead coated with blood from getting busted open on the concrete. He clutches at his hip, trying to move, but failing every single time.

Then, you’re gone.

Feeling like your stomach drops out under you, along with your feet, you’re warped to a completely different part of campus by Satoru’s hold on your arm. All at once, the world comes rushing back in, and you’re suddenly aware of your body. You collapse to your hands and knees, watching as drops of blood plop on the blades of grass beneath your face. Even this much, holding yourself up by your shaking arms, is hard.

Just being conscious is hard, apparently, because you wobble before you’re crashing on the ground and passing out.

“You were right to bring me to her first. Fuck. She had a brain bleed. What the fuck happened?”

Shoko’s raised voice might be what pulls you back to consciousness. Or the fact that you’re clearly healed now. The only remnant that there had been something wrong is the flaking blood on your face, sensitivity to light, and the lingering exhaustion because she can’t fully replenish cursed energy.

The lack of noise has you turning your head to the side. Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru—all in a circle—have turned to stare down at you. There are varying degrees of concern on their faces, but Shoko is the only one that’s also furious. She points an accusatory finger at you. “You’re going to tell me what you did later, Duck. Do you understand me? Right now, I have to go heal some old geezer’s broken hip.”

Ah. You’d been right, then. A bone had broken.

You broke that bone.

Because you…

In the heat of that moment, you weren’t comprehending what was going on. What you were doing. But you know now. And the implications of it terrify you. What’s even worse is that you weren’t even consciously thinking about doing it. It just happened, so what if it happens again by accident? What if one of those things thought in the heat of the moment that you’d never say out loud comes true?

You didn’t want this. Not this. You never asked for it. This is too much power for one person. How do you shoulder the weight of something like this? You can’t. You don’t have it in you. You’ll hurt someone, you know it, and it’ll be someone that you love, and when it happens—

“Squid.”

Suguru’s hands appear in your blurry line of vision. They’re meant to be a silent question, to ask if you’re okay to be touched right now. You answer by grabbing his wrists and yanking them down to your cheeks. You don’t know what possesses you to do it. Maybe it’s to pull him in closer because seeing his softening expression makes you feel less overwhelmed. They understand better than anyone, after all, that power is a burden.

It’s not a full breakdown. More a moment of overwhelming pressure and guilt. Suguru and Satoru, both now sitting down next to you in the grass, don’t say anything until you calm down. When you’re just sniffling, Suguru’s thumb that’s been stroking your cheek stills. “What happened, Squid?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Satoru speaks up. “Your persuasion isn’t only limited to cursed spirits anymore. It’s anything with cursed energy, isn’t it?” You nod, mouth twisted with misery. “We really need to come up with a name for your technique.”

“Not the time, Satoru,” Suguru sighs. He brushes away some hair that’s plastered across your forehead. “You don’t seem as surprised by this as I think you should be.”

“Shoko put the idea in my head at the start of the term,” you mumble. “I told her about that mission with you—the one where I caught your cursed spirit and that other sorcerer’s shikigami. I could maybe understand why yours was affected because the spirits have different cursed energy than yours, but…the shikigami is a manifestation of a sorcerer’s energy. Shoko took it to its next logical step. I didn’t want to believe her.”

“It was so weird.” Satoru is tapping his bottom lip, thoughtful. “It was like your cursed energy was infecting that geezer. It was only a second, but I guess whenever you gave your command, I swear that it was like there were two of you. It was seriously trippy.”

“And then you gave yourself a brain bleed. Do you know how lucky you were that Shoko was on campus?” Suguru presses his palm against your forehead, and you look back up at him. The corners of his eyes are tight with worry. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you purposely deflect. Does this power scare you? Yes. Would you use it again if it meant keeping the people you love safe in both body and mind? Another yes. “I’m just…worried about you both.”

“Squid, you can’t keep us here forever. I know you’re worried, but—” he fumbles. Briefly, his gaze darkens, but that emotion quickly passes. “We’re the strongest. We can take care of ourselves.”

“It’s not about whether you can do it or not,” you whisper. “It’s about rest. You almost died. You…you lost. And…that leaves wounds that Shoko can’t heal. Why can’t you have more time? Why does it have to be you?”

“The world has to keep spinning, Sketch.”

Yes, the world is cruel like that, isn’t it?

***

The start of middle school had felt like a month-long blowout in your household.

About two weeks in, while you were curled up under the blankets with a hot water bag pressed against your pelvis, grandparents that you rarely saw had come to visit from the village over. It’d felt like such an invasion of privacy when your both your mother and grandmother presented a bowl of red rice and congratulations on becoming a woman that you’d snapped. Why celebrate such a stupid thing? You’d ranted and raved. It’s what the body does. Why make a big deal? Do you do this with boys when they get their first erection? And all hell had broken loose.

Your father had outright smacked you in the mouth for speaking so crudely and disrespectfully to his mother. After an hour or so of being banished to your room, your frazzled mother and shrewd grandmother had come to interrogate you on how you knew about such a thing—the thing being erections. You’d told them because you saw nothing wrong with the truth. You hadn’t known it then, but Suguru had started puberty a few months before you. He’d told you about the exhausting and awkward conversation his father had been forced to give him.

By the end of the weekend, you’d been ready to choke your grandmother. The way she hovered over your mother, stirring up shit by whispering in your mother’s ear. The worst offense, in your opinion, had been how they turned Suguru away at the door every single day. You couldn’t sneak out because your grandmother slept in your room at night while days were spent going over what boiled down to glorified etiquette classes. Ladies don’t talk about crude things which included basic bodily functions, ladies don’t sleep with men unless they’re married, ladies are demure yet try to make friends with their peers, ladies this, ladies that, and on and on it went.

And you’d overheard conversations at school, knew that most of your classmates hated it as much as you did when their grandparents visited, so you’d hoped the hell would end when they were gone. It hadn’t. That Monday night, your mother had declared that there would no longer be any sleepovers, and you think that may have been the first ever time you screamed yourself hoarse.

You’ve always been too close to that boy! Your father had been the one to step in, absolutely laying into you. I tolerated it because you needed to have one friend, at least, so we could pretend our daughter is normal, but this is just becoming borderline inappropriate now! You’re lucky that I don’t ban you from seeing him, period! And think of him! Don’t you think that he’s sick of spending so much time with you? He’ll never have any other friends if he’s seen spending so much time with you! Let the boy be a boy, damn it!

That’s when the doubt started, you think.

This fear has always plagued you—the idea that you need Suguru more than he needs you.

Zen’in Toji changes that.

Sometimes, when you’re too stuck in your head, you worry that you’re still acting like a child, tugging at his sleeves, annoyingly demanding his attention. Now, it almost feels like the roles have reversed. Not that you’re annoyed. No, if he tried to hide himself away, you’re pretty sure that you’d be waiting outside his door like a lost puppy begging to come home.

Really, the only difference between now and those childhood days where you two were practically joined at the hip is that Satoru is included.

Now that Satoru and Suguru are on their own, you’ve been unofficially added to Nanami and Haibara’s team. What happened to headquarters wanting you to spy on Suguru, huh? This might be a punishment. You don’t mind it, obviously, because you like to be a good mentor, but it’s not just them that you’re helping. Helping is a loose term, though. You’re almost as busy as Suguru and Satoru are, running to pacify and record spirits for the seasoned sorcerers.  

A thing that you’ve started to learn is that sorcerers are…eccentric. More often than not, they don’t try to make small talk with you which you’re happy for, but it’s still exhausting to be around all these strangers. It seems like you’re always running on empty. It feels like your art is suffering, too, because you can’t find it in yourself to practice in your spare time. You feel as if you always have to be available.

Things might be easier if you had some time alone, but you never are anymore, even when you’re on campus. Would Satoru and Suguru respect your wishes if you asked? Yes. But you never do. You always feel too guilty to ask for such a thing when they’re working so hard all the time. Thankfully, Suguru is fine to sit in silence with you and Satoru can talk and talk without you ever saying a word back.

Things are changing between the three of you—even a person like you who always has things going over her head can see that.

You’re not quite sure when it started but there is always someone in your bed. None of you talk about it, though. If they hadn’t started leaving pieces of themselves behind in your room, you’d wonder if they even knew that the other is with you when they aren’t around. In your need to have things in the correct places, you’ve assigned them spots—Suguru’s cigarettes are tucked in the corner of your nightstand, Satoru’s stash of blueberry sodas is neatly stacked inside your minifridge, Suguru’s spicy ramen is in the cabinet closest to the door and Satoru’s melon bread are next to the ramen.

People talk about walking in the shadows of The Strongest, but…for you, it feels like their shadows are swallowing you whole.

Where do they end and where do you begin?

It’s getting weird inside your head. Not that it hasn’t always been. It’s just…you sometimes feel suffocated. On bad days, you wonder if you’ve started to create a mask for them—something you’ve never felt the need to do, especially with Suguru. And yet, in spite of it all, you’re terrified to push them away, and not because of what happened to them.

Bitterly, you think about that river in your village, and how if you were thrown in it with no way out but forward that you’d let yourself drown in that familiarity rather than face the unknown that awaits on the other side of the river.

You’d scolded Suguru for picking up smoking, but maybe he and Shoko are on to something with it.

The stars have aligned just right so that you, Satoru, and Suguru are all on campus at the exact same time. It’s a bitterly cold December morning and you’re gathered in the smoking area. Sitting next to Suguru on a bench, you eye the cigarette, tempted to try, but decide better of it. You’ll settle for the smoke that curls in the air and clings to his clothes. You tilt to the side, putting your head on his shoulder, and Suguru settles his cheek on the top of your head. Satoru, across from you and munching on pocky, has been watching you two with an eerie intensity.

“You two should come home to Kyoto with me.”

“Meeting the parents already?” The question was intoned by you and Suguru, at the exact same time. You lean away, glancing up at Suguru with the same surprise mirrored on his face, and then the two of you break out in a loud fit of laughter that’s becoming depressingly rare these days.

Satoru stands there, red-faced and fuming. “Sorry for wanting to spend my birthday weekend with you, you assholes!”

After collecting yourself and catching your breath, you ask, “Are we even allowed?”

“Doesn’t matter if you are or not,” he replies with a shrug of the shoulder. “I’m head of the clan, baby. I can do whatever I want, and no one can say a damn thing about it.”

From next to you, Suguru snorts. “Why don’t you just stay here since you obviously don’t want to go, Lord Gojo.”

“Future head of the clan,” Satoru reluctantly grumbles. “I could stay here,” he goes on to defensively. “I’m just being a nice person! The last time I saw my parents was last year when I moved on campus. I’m doing them a favor before I’m eighteen and never looking back.”

“Oh? Are you giving up your position when you graduate? Otherwise, you’ll probably be seeing them to do fancy, important clan stuff,” you tease.

“Screw both of you!” If life were an anime, there would be steam blowing out of his ears right now. “I was even going to let you guys go all out when we get fitted, but now I’m choosing for you, and I’ll put you in the ugliest colors!”

You cock your head to the side. “Fitted?”

“They want traditional clothes for the birthday celebration.”

“How traditional?”

“Ofurisode for you and montsuki for us,” he answers casually.

Oh, no. No, no, no. There have been only a few times where your parents rented a kimono for you, and you hated every single second of it. Granted, you were young, but you remember how much you hated it. “No.” You shake your head. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”

Satoru’s brows furrow. “Eh? Why?”

“What do you mean why? I can’t believe you’re okay with it! You don’t like clothes clinging to you, right?”

“Actually, it’s more like I hate when my clothes get wet. Besides, if something feels like it’s rubbing against me wrong, I can shift Infinity to sit between my skin and the fabric. Anyway, my montsuki are always silk, and I like how that feels.”

Your eye twitches. “Yeah, well, not everyone has Infinity. Do you even know how many pieces there are in an ofurisode? It’s so heavy and tight and—” you visibly shudder.

“Good point.” Satoru hums and taps his chin in thought. “Best I can do is a chu-furisode, though. I don’t doubt that they’d kick you out on your ass if you showed up in anything less formal or if we tried putting you in something for the married women.”

“You’re forgetting something,” you point out wryly. “I can just not go.”

“Sketch,” Satoru whines. “It’s my birthday.”

“We can celebrate here before or after you leave.”

“Also,” Suguru finally speaks up, “that’s too much money.”

“Oh, don’t worry, my little country bumpkins. It’s all on the Gojo dime and it won’t even be a drop in the bucket.”

Deadpan and once again at the same time, you and Suguru say, “Rich boy.”

Satoru claps his hands together in front of himself, ducking his head. “Please, please, please,” he loudly begs. “Don’t leave me on my own with my shitty clan! It’ll be like a sleepover! You guys did those when you were kids, right? My one wish is that I get a turn having a sleepover with Sketch and Suguru!”

We have sleepovers every time you’re on campus, you aggressively think. But, after a moment of reflection, you realize that, actually, not all three of you have slept in the same room. On the few times that they’ve been on campus at the same time, neither of them tries to sneak into your room at night or text you to ask. You think you know what they do, though. Just as they’ve started to leave pieces of themselves in your room, you see them in each other’s. And, sure, you could put that as them hanging out, but you’ll sometimes catch whiffs of cigarette smoke on Satoru’s sheets and pillows.

You still want to tell him no. It’s a daunting thought, being in an uncomfortable kimono, surrounded by people that don’t even respect their own future clan head let alone people like you and Suguru who have no sorcery in your bloodlines. But what else is there to get the boy who has everything? And…it’s a rare chance to have them to yourself because the higher-ups are giving him leave and, if Satoru insists, his family will request the same for you and Suguru.

“Fine,” you agree with a frustrated sigh.

Suguru also gives a sigh of his own. “I’m smoking, whether I’m allowed to or not.”

“Best birthday ever!” Satoru cheers.

***

For obvious reasons, Satoru puts off going on his clan’s estate as long as possible. There are people at the estate that could measure you and Suguru, but Satoru pulls you both into a shop that’s probably so expensive that it costs to breathe. You’re glad the prices aren’t displayed. Thankfully, you don’t really have to put up with strange hands all over you yet. They simply take a tape measurer to you and then let you pick out the fabric. Like Satoru, you decide on a beautiful silk that starts out forest green before fading to a navy blue near the bottom.

Kyoto is mostly religious sits—temples, castles, shrines, and the like. It’s very beautiful. Satoru takes you both to the Fushimi Inari-taisha, a long path that’s nothing but bright red torii gates. Satoru is surprisingly quiet, so it’s a peaceful moment. After the shrine, you wonder if it was just a way to calm you down before you’re forced to face the crowds to find food. It’s…honestly not as bad as you expected because with Satoru and Suguru’s huge bodies in front of and behind you, people can’t bump into you that much.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun is setting, the three of you are in a random park. Satoru is dozing off, head in Suguru’s lap, and Suguru is reading a book. It’s good inspiration, so you draw them. Not like that’s anything unusual. You do feel a little sad, a little nostalgic when you flip through your personal sketchbook and see the gradual loss of…youth, you guess. Even Shoko isn’t unaffected. You wonder how you look to everyone else.

At twilight, Satoru decides he can’t stall anymore, and he finally picks up the phone that he’s been ignoring all day.

jjk

“Your parents aren’t what I expected,” Suguru comments when the three of you shuffle into his obscenely large bedroom.

Meanwhile, your question is, “Is this not your room?” Sure, Satoru brought a lot of stuff when he moved on campus, but this room is…weirdly empty. Not a hint of his love for Digimon, no posters, and the bedsheets look like they belong to an older person rather than a teenager.

“Right? My parents are super weak. They were low on the Gojo ladder, but then they had yours truly, and they’re practically worshipped now. I’ve never lived with them much, though. They handed me over to tutors and people who could teach me about sorcery,” Satoru explains. “I was in another section of the compound, but when I come to Kyoto, I’m a good son and stay with my parents.”

Suguru voices what you’re both thinking. “Satoru, that’s…really sad. You know that, right?”

“Eh.” Satoru shrugs off the concern. “It’s probably how every other rich kid is treated. Non-sorcerers get boarding schools, and I got training and missions.”

“Missions?”

“Yeah?” Satoru cocks his head to the side, genuinely confused by your disbelief. “What? I’m Gojo Satoru, wielder of the Six Eyes. You think I was sitting around on my ass until high school?”

Suguru is pressing a thumb against the center of his forehead. “I’m too tired to tell you how fucked up that is, Satoru. We’ll save it for another day.”

“Agreed,” you say with a nod. “And don’t expect me to be polite to any of your family.”

“I don’t get you guys, but okay. Let’s go to bed.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering. There’s some giggling when, as you three try to get settled in Satoru’s massive bed, you all bump into some ticklish spots. You argue even more about the positioning. Finally, you decide that the birthday boy is stuck in the middle. Besides, he’s always ice cold, so he won’t get too hot, anyway.

Satoru has an arm thrown around your shoulders and Suguru’s. Suguru’s cheek is up in the crook of Satoru’s neck while yours is above his heart. It’s a nice sensation, listening to the frantic beat of Satoru’s heart slow as the minutes pass by. Suguru is half-asleep when he reaches out to lace his fingers through yours, placing them on Satoru’s stomach. They’re both asleep before you, which isn’t a surprise. They must be exhausted, constantly coming and going on missions.

I wish I was stronger.

Strong enough to shoulder these burdens with them, strong enough to face down the old men that treat Satoru and Suguru like weapons to be used and feared, strong enough to stop childishly clinging to everyone else, strong enough to protect these so very precious moments, strong enough…

I’m weak.

And that’s a bitter truth but a still a truth regardless.

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Yin Yang Generality (Part 1/2)

My goal was initially to talk about the Yin/Yang concept in Naruto, but I realise I have first to explain a little bit what I mean by that so we're all in the same page. kudos to @shisui-uchiha-rp for inspiring me this double post.

Disclaimer : Usually people reading me are quite smart but who knows some people don't get use to my style. There is no meliorative or derogative values behind Yin/Yang or Female/masculine if you feel that one is better than the other. IT'S ON YOU. The author is not your mum, not your therapist, not your teddy bear to vent upon. If you don't feel comfortable and triggered here are my solutions : move on from my post, unfollow, or even block. But if you're high IQ, open minded, not self-centred or just generally curious and well-behaved then welcome and keep reading.

The duality is probably one of the oldest concept in metaphysic. It's presented in many cosmologies to explain the origin of the world. After the Unicity or primordial chaos comes the duality of opposite forces: Positive/Negative Light/Darkness, Up/Down, Heaven/Earth. A bit like the cells division in biology. You don't go from 1 to 8. You go first 1 splitting in 2 splitting in 4 splitting in 8... So duality is the matrice of any system. It's the fundamental for the law of nature, the balance in the universe and its complex beauty. It's not Yin against Yang, or Yin>Yang or Yang>Ying. It's about how Yin and Yang balance each other to create stability, order and peace.

What's Yang?

I like to represent it as a centrifugal force. A cyclonic energy expanding outside of itself. And by expanding , it takes place and when you take place, it grows. You create motions and frictions that create disruption and may lead to violence. Going outside can also means transcending an initial state. Looking for answer outside of oneself. Exploration of the unknown. To pierce and penetrate others. You've probably heard that sky crappers or obelisks are sometimes referred as phallic symbol, it's due to their shape that represent the will to project power vertically out and above others. Being the number one. The process of individuation, ego, independence, but in positive way, being able to assert one's will and not fearing judgement.

Yang is often associated with light because it's also acting in the open, unmasked, direct and loud language, explosive presence, rational.

An other thing coming to my mind, Yang energy is like an arrow or a missile going straight to the point.

In the negative, it can also being associate with escapism, distance, scattering when the ambition goes to far, separation, division, detachment, dryness. Ultraviolence, megalomania, destruction.

What's Yin?

The opposite is the centripetal force. Think about a spinning vortex, a black hole. Or just water whirling in your sink. The centripetal motion brings both the idea of cycle and gravity and when you extend the move to its maximum, the centre reaches immobility. And if you go even further you have high pressure exerts on a small spot.

In nature, do you know what's happened when carbon is submit to an extreme pressure in the depth of Earth's mantle? It crystallises into a diamond. And the diamond's attribute, except its beauty, has the highest hardness and thermal conductivity of any natural material. It's indestructible. It facilitates vibration. It's solid!

Hence why someone known for an extreme mastery of Yin energy is said to be intense. Because the spiritual core of this person is so strong, that the mere presence into a room is enough to create "gravity" toward them. It doesn't matter if the person is attractive or not, good or mean. Yet they have this thing...this magnetic charisma that hypnotises people.

Yin energy refers to obscurity, what is hidden, invisible, cold, passive, receptive, and wet. Observe again nature : a DNA nucleus, the pit of a fruit, seed, or the star in a solar system is the most important part. It's the roots. the raw material from whom everything else proceed and rotate. It is extremely powerful because it contains all potentials.

Something you can't see always seem more powerful and menacing that something that you can observe and measure. Imagination is always infinite compare to reality and its limitation. For instance : there is a lion in front of you, you might have a tiny chance to survive if you run away. But if I tell you there is a lion...somewhere around you. It seems suddenly the animal is everywhere and you can't prepare yourself from something you can't see. The paranoia will imagine that the slightest wind is the beast ready to jump on your throat. But maybe it's not true, maybe the lion doesn't exist at all and yet in your imagination it was very real!

Contrary to Yang which is direct and straight. Yin is curvy, suggestive, indirect, like a fog, slow like a sugar soaked by water. We can call it the boiling frog method. You slowly raise the temperature so nobody notice. When it starts to be too hot it's too late, the frog has been weakened for hours and don't have the strength anymore to escape the trap. In a Yang manner, if it has been directly from room temperature to 100°C, it would have jumped out immediately.

In negative a bad Yin can create obsession, brooding over and over the same thing. A sensation of inertia, mental instability, self-destruction. Implosion when the core is falling into itself due to too much external pressure or internal fragility. Narcissism and not being able to see the bigger picture outside of oneself. Also manipulation, lies, victimhood mentality, passivity to act, delusion.

Yin/Yang in the human species?

From a simple observation of anatomy it's quite obvious who's Yin and who's Yang.

Men are generally taller than women, broader shoulders and rib cage which aloud them to have a deeper and louder voice. the muscle mass is also higher with less body fat. The sexual organ is external and I don't need to go in detail on how it erects and projects to accomplish its mission... Also the limbs and the hips are straight. the pelvis is narrow, brow bone more proeminent.

Women in contrary are in general smaller than men. With a tendency to keep more fat in the lower part, than muscle. narrow shoulder, narrow torso, wider hips and generally curvier limbs : hips, breasts, rounded face, brighter skin, bigger eyes. And of course the sexual organ is internal and everything about pregnancy is hidden inside the darkness of the womb.

In term of character There is a saying that : Men kill you, Women drive you crazy.

Take in a positive light, Men can build new worlds with their hands, and women can help to civilise and heal the world. Would you live in a high tech city where people behave like cavemen? and in reverse would you be with kind and compassionate people in the wild with no protection, no home, no technology, in open air?

A lot of psychology studies has shown that from childhood, girls have a tendency for emotional connexion (networking, relationship) while boys are interested by things (how to built, how to work, how to perform)

But does it mean that a man is 100% yang and a woman 100% yin? No it's absurd. I think you kind of notice I tend to have a yang way of expressing myself. I don't really care if my posts hurt someone's feeling. I don't care about trigger warning, I don't care about politically correctness, I don't write to protect harmony among the group but to express what is in my mind, now. but does it nullify my womanhood card? Does that make me a man? Absolutely not, I just have my own and unique temperament and everyone is different. Yet I'm still deeply Yin. And if we observe humanity as a group, it's obvious that the most enchanting embodiment of Yin energy are Women and the most magnificent embodiment of Yang energy are Men.

Yin/Yang in other aspects

I like this term better than female/masculine because it's less restrictive than just humans. It can apply to many aspect of life

A student is yin when he receive knowledge from his teacher in a yang position.

The same teacher is yin when he's under the authority of the university director yang.

In the military field a samurai has a yang culture while shinobis by acting in shadow and using deception way have a yin way of fighting.

The soul is yin, the body is yang

Moon reflect the sunlight (yin), the sun is the source of light (yang)

A mother is yang toward her children (yin)

In a production the famous actress is yang while producers, and staff are yin (they work in the back sometimes no one know their face or their name). but in the same production who has the actual power? The production pouring the money and writing the script? the famous actress that attract people due to her popularity? The success of the whole film is a mix of both energy.

In the end Yin/Yang both are important and both are complementary. Yin can't live independently from Yang and Yang can't survive without Yin. Light produce shadow and shadow is enhanced by light. You can't appreciate shadow without light and you can't see the beauty of light without shadow.

Part 2 : Yin/Yang in Naruto, the case of Madara and Hashirama

[sasoarts]

Cassoscriptumling, the Written Media Borderling

The Cassoscriptumlings are Borderlings resembling large heaps of newspaper. Eyes dot most of their pages, and they move and blink as if they're functional. The printed text is unrecognizable to any human language. Black ink pools below the Cassoscriptumlings, but stains surfaces for only 24 hours before gradually fading. Their form are monstrous and vaguely humanoid with long, drooping snouts and gnarled, twisted fingers, which drip the same black ink as their underbellies. Arm count varies between individuals, coming with two to six pairs. Cassoscriptumlings with an odd number of arms are rare.

Touching the ink alters the Witness's ability to write coherent sentences, although the person isn't aware of the Borderlings' effects. This leads to confusion and hilarity once it wears off after an hour. The Witnesses called the species "the Calligraphers," after their way of rewriting existing print.

A corpse of a Cassoscriptumling shows that the creature has a similar cardiovascular system to ours with very little inaccuracies. Ink never seems to run out. The body's pages are blown to the wind after death, and their eyes and print slowly fade away.

The Cassoscriptumlings slowly move, dragging themselves similar to that of a mollusk. Sluggish and careful, they move without haste. They are never hostile and wouldn't strike or misuse their ink. They touch the bottom of each word while reading, which causes printing errors that vary from subtle to blatant.

Once finished with a newspaper or book, the Cassoscriptumlings place the book in a tedious manner and take out the next one they see. Typing errors vary each time they read.

One or two Cassoscriptumlings appear in one place after common closing hours, between 8pm to 4am. They seem to enjoy each other's company, resting their heads on one another and patting their backs, as if meeting an old friend or relative. The companionship changes when rewriting ink, as they push and shove in a slow, lazy manner. Only Impure Cassoscriptumlings can cause harm, pulling off paper from the other and writing misinformation on magazines.

They seem to coexist with the Inspectolings, sharing visual and written information. More to come when more information is given.

Witnesses who encounter the Cassoscriptumlings will receive newspapers at the front door of their homes once a week. Teleportation is instantaneous, and the Borderling appears only when delivering the paper. The newspapers include current locations of different Borderlings and what species are currently active.

A sample for one week. Dates change each week. i.e, Botanoling sightings will appear beginning at 8am, but in the 3rd week, they are mentioned again but appearing at 7am.

1. A factory at midnight - Agoralogoling

2. In the park's garden at 8am - Botanoling

3. The walk in freezer at 3am - Visceracrassusling

4. In front of a local Café at 8pm - Scopoling

5. In the residential neighborhood at 11am - ( Tempestasling)

6. The sky at night ( no time given ) - Nubesbalaenaling

There are no dates given. A Witness must keep an eye out for these Borderlings during the times they manifest.

News of Witnesses' whereabouts are there in different segments along with occurances involving Borderlings. This helps other Witnesses to gather stories about sightings and help newcomers identify docile and hostile Borderlings.

The Cassoscriptumlings are found behind shops which sells newspapers, magazines and books. When manifesting, they generate as a single sheet of paper, blowing in the wind. Once it lands on the ground, ink bubbles around it and splits into more paper, similar to cell division. It duplicates and grows until it is a fully developed Borderling. Ink stains and scattered papers are telltale signs of its activity.

If you encounter a Cassoscriptumling, it's best to introduce yourself by taking a piece of paper and drawing an eye on it. Give it to the Borderling, and it will reply with a friendly greeting, drawing another eye on the opposite side of the paper, tracing yours. If the Borderling finds you interesting, expect your weekly newspaper to come the week after the greeting.

Image source

[epacer]

Technology

Momentum grows for cell phone bans in schools

Cell phone bans for schools are surging across the country as educators and state lawmakers look to tackle learning loss and reduce distractions, but within the movement there are significant divisions. 

New York City, Los Angeles and the state of Virginia have all moved to forbid student phones from classrooms in recent weeks, despite some parental backlash on the measures.

Parents fear not being able to reach their children during a school shooting or other emergency, while the pesky problem of how to actually keep technology out of young hands poses a practical challenge.

“I think we have good science to show that banning cell phones in classrooms during class time is really important,” said Mitch Prinstein, chief science office for the American Psychological Association. 

“We know that because there’s no such thing as multitasking. We all are just engaging in task-shifting back and forth, and kids’ brains are not fully developed enough to be able to task-shift as well as adults,” Prinstein added. “So it’s really important for academic achievement that we have those cell phones out of the classroom.”

Virginia is the latest to take action on phones in school after Gov. Glenn Youngkin (R) directed the state’s Department of Education to draft guidance for schools on creating policies “that establish the age-appropriate restriction or elimination of cell phone use during instructional time.”

“This essential action will promote a healthier and more focused educational environment where every child is free to learn. Creating cell phone and social media-free educational environments in Virginia’s K-12 education system will benefit students, parents, and educators,” Youngkin said last week.

Other major metropolitan areas serving hundreds of thousands of students have also jumped on the wagon to create phone-free environments. 

New York City Public Schools is looking into policies on getting rid of phones, and the Los Angeles school board approved a policy to restrict the devices, although the details of how America’s two biggest cities will get the job done have not been finalized. 

Some are advocating for students not to have their phones at all throughout the school day.

“There are many, many, many reasons why a class-time, instruction-time policy doesn’t work,” said Sabine Polak, co-founder of Phone-Free Schools Movement. 

Polak said a ban on phones only during class puts the burden on teachers to police classrooms, and that students are less likely to socialize face-to-face during lunch or other breaks if they have access to screens. Class-only bans also leave the phones available for illicit activities such as recording and taking photos, she said.

A recent survey by Pew Research Center found 72 percent of high school teachers believe phones are a major distraction to students, though only 33 percent of middle school teachers and 6 percent of elementary educators feel the same way.

All-day bans have been undertaken by multiple school districts, with Renesha Parks, chief wellness officer at Richmond Public Schools in Virginia, previously telling The Hill her district invested in pouches designed for students to put their phones in when they arrive and which cannot be opened until the end of the day.

“The phone can’t be left on the person unless it is in a locked pouch like a Yondr pouch,” Polak said. “We found that even if they are locked away in personal lockers, kids are still finding ways to leave the classroom in order to access their phones.” 

But others say the focus should be on class time, since it’s the most important for student focus.

“In general, we should be limiting the amount of time that kids are on social media. However, there is no research that says whether doing it in the three minutes before classes or doing it at home is any different or, you know, better or worse,” Prinstein said. 

While 82 percent of K-12 teachers say their school has a cell-phone policy, according to the June Pew Research survey, 30 percent of those educators say it is hard to enforce them.

Classroom-only bans would also help parents who fear not having access to their children during an emergency event, though advocates of cell phone bans argue such access could in fact increase the danger.

“As far as like big emergencies […] your child is more unsafe if they have their phone on them when there’s an emergency because their attention is distracted. They are not paying attention when their teachers are giving guidance on what they’re supposed to be doing because they are too worried about trying to text friends or family to let them know things are OK,” said Mileva Repasky, co-founder of Phone-Free Schools movement. 

As for students, Pew found 70 percent of 13- to 17-year-olds say there are more benefits than harms to phones, and 45 percent believe phones make it easier to do better in school.

And some land on the students’ side, arguing that even bans outside of class time are a step backward. 

“I take the opposite stance here, because I think that banning cell phones is, at best, a missed opportunity, and at worst, maybe not worse, but one of the more harmful results that I can predict is that it will actually produce a group of kids who aren’t prepared to be productive in society,” said Bill Salak, CTO of Brainly, an online education platform.

“I would say this is a problem that should be solved on the spot, locally, at the most local level, so teachers reprimanding and escalating problems that are happening in their classrooms. Parents being more involved, parents being better educated and this is where schools and parents can connect, and schools can talk to parents about tools to install on your kid’s cell phone to limit their access to social media during school hours,” he added. “There’s all these tools that that if schools and parents are working together and they’re communicating like we’re going to have a better outcome than just using a giant hammer to say, ban all cell phone use in school.” *Reposted article from The Hill by Lexi Lonas on July 16, 2024

[dreamsandroots]

The View from Down Under

The rarest treasures are often the ones hardest to decipher: that which operates only within the interior of the epistemè, obscured from outsiders. A secret path back home. An anachronous story which changes with the teller’s inflections, their changing dispositions. If there’s one thing the West excelled at (at least since the onset of market libertarianism) it was making its own story accessible. Perhaps accessible is not quite the right word here. Unavoidable might serve more aptly. 24/7 availability, the dream that never sleeps. Excitement in your face, your eyes bleeding, a narrative of Capital Realism that engulfs the horizon. What can you even say about a story that’s so catchy it sticks in your head even as it strangles you? Its jingles and theme tunes ringing in your cells, snaking through your interior circuits? The lens changes: what you see when your eyes become free from the joy of hunger, defined only by the absences of what you can and cannot take. Apocalypse is only a secret whose articulation would certify the ego’s erasure. Scare it into a bullet. The original trick. Fascism’s pull works best behind a pretty face. Gather enough pretty faces, arrange them to cover over your dark corners, and you can divert attention from any atrocity, any factory polluting as it builds its landfill or its bombs. The beautiful ones, the lucky ones. Soon you’ll be made to feel crazy, a paranoid fool, for pointing at anything beneath the surface. The beautiful face becomes the arena within which the ongoing dialectic of division plays indefinitely. A white face, an androgynous face, a coloured face, a trans face, all of them beautiful faces pointing towards the edges of a misplaced sense of self-righteous anger that is tied to our sense of belonging from one moment to the next, and the distinct sense that the battlegrounds of identity have been constructed to keep us looking out to our other in envy. How might we place ourselves in the centre of gravity once again? Don’t they realise how much we have struggled too? The algorithm’s inner logic: a magical formula that predicts and predicates profits on the margins of social dissolution.

But perhaps we’re getting ahead of ourselves here a little. Let’s step back for a moment and think about the dream we had, the one which confuses the hell out of us every time we think on it: not necessarily in a way that leaves us frustrated or exacerbated on the knife’s edge of reason, but rather in the same way that we might imagine it to be pleasing for the plant to think of the different routes it might travel of a day in order to best drink up the sun’s energy. This must be what they mean by ‘quanta’, the superposition of that which is unable to be measured. Nothing in its box. Fixed categories, the static noise of holy conception, trickling and clicking in susurrations and blips through the skin. To stay indefinitely in this gelatinous state of mass, though impossible, must at times seem tempting. To lay snug in our beds comfortably, our needs, our hungers fed intravenously, or via some hare-brained rendition of the digital cloud, must seem something close to a post-lapsarian, pre-eminent paradise. Cycles beget cycles, our bodies growing towards the sun, the moon and various other heavenly bodies, cell by cell. Forget the false binary of dead-cat-living, we are all of us swarms of creatures, balancing tentatively, the species of the brain aware only through a kind of mass-extrapolatory intuition of those in the belly, the mouth, the lungs, the throat, your fingers, the soles of your feet. If only we didn’t have to go to work on Monday, or the day after that. But, I guess every Matrix comes with its own built-in Neo. The ego’s storm clouds. An interior gut punch, a vortex in the pit of your belly. Why can’t we dream forever?

As you walk the dusty streets you realise yourself as the inconsolable deficit. You are white skinned like it’s some kind of blessing. You wear trousers like a man does. You stand up at the urinal to pee, it’s true. Ugly stubble prickles the skin on your face. The chemicals raging in your body, along with the 10y gap in any sense of physical intimacy with another person, have you falling into the embarrassing slobbery drawl of the gaze, staring at what you believe to be the solution to your shortfall: slender, smooth-skinned, expensive clothes, perfect hair, an alluring scent, the ultimate in sublimation, and you have to alleviate yourself from the male fantasy that these angelic beings emerged from heaven’s egg perfectly constructed as if by the hand of God Themself, and that you’re some kind of Odysseus, strapped to the mast of his own ship, navigating through the sublime waters of the sirens. You’re reminded, too, of the cultural boneyard that is Sydney/Gadigal, its highways superimposed on top of sacred spaces, travelling grounds for the one remaining world culture that can provide evidence of continuous cultural practices that date back (according to Neale & Kelly) for at least tens of thousands of years. It’s only in recognition that our problems are skin deep in comparison, the realisation that to approach the problem with the requisite curiosity and open-heartedness of the dreamer, rather than the knower, means also to leave behind the tools you have collected to make sense of the world.

I’m a settler, but aren’t we all? According to various socio-political models which attempt to make sense of, and demystify the automated rollout of self-replicating power structures, what seems most urgent is to develop a sense of class-consciousness, a sense of unification that can come only with the recognition of our shared agency, to halt the ongoing hegemony of market freefall. To examine the relationship of ‘Western’ models of learning and the culturally diverse and variegated systems of knowledge evident in First Nations people throughout the world, feels analogous to the image of a man, dying of thirst who, when approaching the river, thinks immediately that the water is his by right. The cultural work of today is an ongoing labour of building bridges and reforesting places drained of life-force. To recognise our common despairs, but also to find a way to share the joys. Australia’s last hope for cultural identity is to recognise its ongoing systems of oppression, to understand what colonises all of us, to see the pollution of domination, control, fixation, for the mental pollution that it is. If I can approach this task with honesty, sincerity patience and understanding, then maybe one day I’ll be able to say, in sincerity, that I have done the work of an Australian, and I will call it my home.

[prydonacademia]

From a scrap of paper found in the ruins of the conservatory, on Theta Sigma:

It was all a tremendous secret.

Lungbarrow, a House that hadn't been granted a looming for centuries, was to have a new child.

No member had died. None were missing, even, and if someone had passed they hadn't been left long enough to be sure. Of course some were terribly close, in the last decades of their last bodies, but it's impolite to wait for someone to die no matter how much you want a baby.

Lungbarrow couldn't afford a looming, let alone all the costs that followed it—so when the permit was issued, along with a generous grant directly from the Citadel, the shock went through every member of the House down to its very foundation.

One morning, the Kitriarch was fretting about where to buy appropriate biodata—genetics of high quality were so hard to find these days and she wouldn't let the neighbouring Houses outdo her again. That evening, she had gone perfectly still.

The House Mother resumed fretting in her place: Everything had to be presentable, the TARDIS kept behind the barn, if you would, until the chameleon circuit was fixed and it looked clean again. The children were washed and stuffed in their best robes, then rushed to bed before anyone could witness the robes or check if they had really washed behind their ears.

The blinds were shut, keeping the night-cold out, but they couldn't block all the light of a landing ship. They couldn't hide the whirrs of stabilisers or the urgent hushed voices in the entrance hall. Some of the children—the ones that didn't fear punishment or wished to satisfy their curiosity more—later whispered excitedly about Time Lords with high golden collars and about a shroud on the dining table. One, the youngest at the time and eager to hand off that status, claimed to see the face of a woman, eyes shut and dark skin gone grey. Nothing quite sure, nothing less exciting because of the vaporous rumours surrounding the matter.

The loom has been active since. No matter how busy, no-one in the House of Lungbarrow can resist watching it for hours at a time—the liquid inside sets and shifts and rises; in the centre particles gather like a salt crystal, slowly forming a foetus.

It's too early to say anything about them yet. One day they will have a future, a kaleidoscope of futures, almost certainly a number of bizarre ones considering their peculiar origin.

The Ministry of Loomography insists that reloomed biodata contains nothing but the base genetic code needed for the loom to function and any personality traits are set by the childe's primary education. But you can't quite believe that, can you? There has to be something strange about this one, considering how mysteriously they arrived.

There's a hush over the House. No one speaks of the loom. No two people go to see it at once, but everyone has visited and given their blessings. The entire house of Lungbarrow is holding its breath.

After two months, the childe will be taken from the weft, a boy with sharp eyes and a weak heart. Three days later, on Otherstide, he will be named, and five days after that he will reject his given name and take his own.

You always felt it. Something odd about him, this secret in Lungbarrow—one too many within these walls. He's bringing something upon the House. Something in the world has changed; a Division only just beginning to heal, or beginning to deepen.

For now, they're no more than a cluster of cells. Watch them grow. Watch the kaleidoscope shift. Witness their second beginning. Give them a future.

See what they make of it.

[toadstoolgardens]

10 Amazing Medicinal Herbs to Grow in the Garden

1. Calendula, Calendula officinalis: with cheerful golden orange flowers that are edible and medicinal, calendula is one of the most beloved herbs. The petals are edible and the entire flower is medicinal and great for the skin. External use can heal wounds, rashes, burns, and dry skin. Internally calendula flowers are used as an antifungal, an antibacterial, for stimulating the lymphatic system, for stimulating the menses, and as a digestive anti-inflammatory. Calendula also attracts pollinators and is easy to grow from seed. It does well as a container plant too!

2. Motherwort, Leonurus cardiaca: easy to grow and versatile, motherwort is a favorite for anxiety and stress. It's leaves, flowers, and stems can also be taken as a tea or tincture to lessen pain from headaches, menstrual pain, and muscle aches. It can help menstruators going through menopause, easing hot flashes and hormonal irritability. It can be used in childbirth to strengthen contractions. This herbaceous perennial will self-sow happily and can be quite weedy, plant it somewhere where it will have lots of space or where you can control its spreading easily.

3. Passionflower, Passiflora incarnata: these gorgeous flowers are native to the southeastern United States and an important nervine sedative. The stems, leaves, and flowers are used to promote sleep and alleviate pain like headaches and menstrual cramps. Passionflower is a perennial herb that loves to climb, it can be somewhat tough to sprout (stratifying and/or scarifying the seeds will help) but will spread happily through your garden and over fences and trellises once its growing. It's a short lived perennial that usually needs replanting every three years or so, so even if it's spreading quicker than you'd like it will die back after a few years.

4. Echinacea/Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea: a popular garden ornamental that attracts butterflies and bees, echinacea is a gorgeous and easy to grow plant. It's quite hardy, withstanding drought and disease. The roots, seeds, and fresh flowers are all medicinal and stimulate the immune system. Echinacea has been used for centuries to treat the common cold, coughs, bronchitis, upper respiratory infections. It increases the number of white blood cells to help your body fight off all kinds of infections. It's a perennial and will return to your garden year after year, with flowers beginning to grow in its second year.

5. Tulsi/Holy Basil, Ocimum tenuiflorum syn. O. sanctum: a relative of common basil native to India, Sri Lanka, and Malaysia, holy basil or tulsi is aromatic and antimicrobial. The leaves and flowers can be made into a medicinal tea to help with colds, coughs, asthma, bronchitis, sinusitis, headaches, stress, and anxiety. It has an adaptogenic effect, giving uplifting energy and aiding mental focus. You can also use tulsi like regular basil in recipes, it's just more pungent. Tulsi is a perennial in zones 10 or warmer and an annual elsewhere, but it may even self seed in cooler climates too. Its easy to grow from seed after the danger of frost has passed. You can harvest it multiple times a year by cutting the mature plant to 8 inches tall and letting it re-grow.

6. Meadowsweet, Filipendula ulmaria: this European wetland herb has beautiful clusters of white flowers and a pleasant wintergreen flavor. It's flowers and basal leaves are used internally for inflammation, fevers, heartburn, and peptic ulcers. It makes a very tasty tea and is a wonderful tonic for arthritis and other inflammatory issues thanks to its anti-inflammatory salicylates. Meadowsweet is a hardy perennial in zones 2-8 and likes moisture. A wet meadow, streamside, or edge of a pond are perfect for meadowsweet, but it can happily grow in the regular garden with a little extra watering. It's easy to grow meadowsweet by root division, any little piece of root will grow a new plant.

7. Southern Ginseng/Jiaogulan, Gynostemma pentaphyllum: native to southeast Asia and used as a tonic for longevity and vitality, the leaves of southern ginseng can be brewed into a medicinal tea for anxiety, stress, depression, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol. This vine is easy to grow and contains some of the same ginsenosides as American and Asian ginseng. It's an herbaceous perennial vine that grows about 4 inches tall and indefinitely wide. It spreads vigorously so you may want to grow it in a container to keep it from becoming troublesome.

8. Spilanthes, Acmella oleracea: with golden globe-shaped flowers and a red center, spilanthes is an interesting herb to look at and to taste. It's a powerful sialogogue (saliva promoter) and provides a tingly numbing sensation that can relieve toothaches. It's great for your teeth and gums since it's antimicrobial, stimulating, and acts as an oral anodyne. All the above-ground parts are medicinal and can be chewed fresh in moderation or turned into a tincture. Spilanthes is super easy to grow as an annual if you sow seeds after the danger of frost has passed. You can harvest spilanthes a few times during the growing season by cutting the plants back to 6 inches and letting them regrow. Only one or two plants is all you need to make over a quart of tincture.

9. Stinging Nettle, Urtica dioica: a highly revered, highly nutritious spring green. Stinging nettle can be eaten steamed, in soups, or in stir fries and the sting disappears when the leaves are cooked. The greens and tea of nettles are packed with vitamins and minerals, especially vitamins A, C, calcium, potassium, magnesium, and iron. The leaves and seeds are used medicinally for allergies, arthritis, and as a kidney tonic. It's considered a perennial, coming back from the roots year after year and will spread prolifically by runners. The fresh shoots will emerge in early spring and you can continually harvest these tender leaves with scissors and let it regrow. Gather your nettles before they flower and always wear thick clothing or gardening gloves to protect from their sting. Stinging nettle is also a dynamic accumulator and is a great addition to your compost or fertilizing mulch.

10. Wild Bergamot, Monarda fistulosa: a beautiful, medicinal, pollinator attracting relative of bee balm, wild bergamot is an important medicine. Used to treat infections and digestive issues like gas and bloating. Wild bergamot is antimicrobial, anti-inflammatory, and diaphoretic (makes you sweat to help break a fever). The leaves and flowers are medicinal and edible and the pungent flavor makes a great medicinal tea or a tasty pesto for a snack. Wild bergamot is an herbaceous perennial with tiiiiiiny seeds that need to be planted on the soil's surface and misted. It can also be grown by dividing an already established plant since wild bergamot spreads vigorously by runners. Since it spreads you may want to plant it somewhere on its own or contain it. The stems, leaves, and blooms can all be gathered at the peak of flowering and used fresh or dried.

This list is just some ideas to get started. Consider your needs, your region, and your climate and find some herbs that match. Choosing plants native to your area is great because you'll attract local pollinators and it's safer for the ecosystem. If you live in the United States, the National Wildlife Federation has a Native Plant Finder Tool where you can search by zip code. Non-native plants can be wonderful to grow for our herbal needs, but should always be contained and managed. Happy growing!🌱

Source

[xiaoderys]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: tutor!jeno x student!reader

warnings: smut, size kink, bulging kink, fem oral receiving, punishment(?)

word count: 2.5K

requested: yes

Jeno poked his tongue in his cheek as he smacked your test papers down on your desk. “Where did I go wrong?” he said, trying to keep his cool but you just sat there, staring at the paper marked with the big ‘F’ in front of you.

He angrily sighed and rubbed his temples “I asked you a question, y/n, don’t tell me you can’t even answer a question as simple as that” his frustration was growing by the second yet you just won’t budge because frankly, he’s done nothing wrong, he fulfilled his duties as your tutor and did his best to make sure you were prepared for your exams but you’re a teenage girl and Jeno is a well-built guy matched with an attractive face, you just couldn’t help but be distracted.

The tension between you two increased “I already said I was sorry!” you blurt out in a high pitched voice and the ever so patient Jeno finally snaps “I spent so long-“ he slams both his hands down your desk and you were now face to face with him “I spent so damn long teaching you this damn biology lesson over and over again, y/n!” he groaned and you refused to make eye contact with him, sitting back in your chair. You dared to look up at him for a quick second and you felt his eyes burning holes right through you so you went back to fumbling with your hands.

“Just give me a good reason why you fucking failed the test we spent weeks studying for” and yet again, you stayed silent and emotionless to which he scoffed “you’re wasting both our times” he gave up and stood up fully, ready to pack his things and go but you couldn’t risk losing Jeno, now out of all times since you were already failing two subjects “wait I- I was distracted okay?!” he rolled his eyes, “really, y/n?” He said with a sarcastic tone, back still facing you “yes! I- I just- I got so distracted and everything just- poof! I forgot everything I learned” you tried to explain frantically and he turned to face you again “And what was this ‘distraction’ that was so much more appealing than passing your exam?” He crossed his arms, waiting for a decent explanation “you” you gathered every bit of courage to say it out loud but you were desperate to make him stay. He arched his brow in response “me?” you nod slightly while looking down as you didn’t want him to see the blood rushing to your cheeks from your growing embarrassment.

Needless to say, Jeno was intrigued by your answer, of course he was still mad about you failing your tests but he wanted to dig deeper into this ‘distraction’ of yours, after all, it was his job to make sure your head was straight and focused on studying.

He walked back up to your desk slowly “and how exactly was I distracting you, Miss y/l/n?” he tilted his head to the side, awaiting your answer “well you’re not exactly what I expected when I was told I was getting a tutor” you murmured and he hummed “how so?” you inhaled heavily, building up the confidence to tell him why exactly he was distracting you even though you both knew he already knows the reason why “well for starters, you’re hotter than 99% of the guys I’ve ever seen in my life..and you always wear that white button up with your sleeves rolled up to your arms. You always leave a few buttons unbuttoned, just enough for people to take a peek of what’s inside yet still leave some things for the imagination...” Jeno wasn’t dumb, he saw the way you would shuffle in your seat and go red whenever he said something particularly flirty. He knows that you wear that agonizingly short skirt and pull it up to your waist so it rides just above your thighs for him. The way you would sway your hips when he’s walking right behind you. How you would ‘accidentally’ let your pen slip from your hand so you could bend down in front of him just to pick it up which was so fucking unnecessary but it got him so worked up anyways. Jeno knew it but he wanted to hear it straight from you. His face didn’t show any emotion while you talked but he was definitely amused by your honesty “And don’t even get me started with your your hands, fuck they’re so veiny and hot, I can’t count the amount of times I’ve imagined them-“ you cleared your throat, stopping yourself from embarrassing yourself any further “hmm?.. why did you stop?” you swallowed thickly “I -uh-“ “you were talking about how you’ve been imagining my hands?”“I was just talking rubbish, never mind that..” he leaned down so he was eye level with you yet again “no, tell me more, I’m your tutor, am I not? It’s only fair for me to know about these distractions so we can find a way to fix them” you tucked your hair behind your ear and you didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from but something pushed you to spit it out “I’ve always imagined them wrapped around my neck” you kept looking down, not daring to look up even for a second “is that all?” you nod and you could not have been any less prepared for what he says next “You don’t imagine my fingers inside your pussy whenever you touch yourself? You don’t imagine yourself, legs spread on my desk while I fuck you into oblivion?” you looked at him and it was like he wasn’t affected by whatever was going on “n-no, I don’t” lies.

Jeno stood up fully again, grabbing the text book from his own desk “come here” he said as he motioned for you to come over with a single wave of his finger and you stood up from your seat, walking over to him.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up on his desk and you yelped at his sudden action. He opened the text book and of course you were curious ”what are you doing?” “you wanted to work on distractions, right? Then answer my questions while I play with you” you only stared at him with your wide eyes, scared and excited about what’s to come next.

He lowered himself and lift up your skirt "let's start with the basics: what's the powerhouse of the cell?" he asks and your eyes gleamed, you knew this one. “It’s the mi-“ you were cut off when he slowly traced the insides of your thigh “the mi- what?” he taunts, his ego building up, knowing you’re already falling apart just with a simple touch “m-mitochondria” He smiled “very good. what’s the first step in meiosis and cell division?” “Prophase one?” he slowly took off your underwear and you can already imagine how dripping wet you are but your thoughts were focused in answering his questions that you basically ignored your arousal “good girl, now what’s the difference between prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells?” you spent a few seconds rummaging your brain for the answer and your face lit up when you got it “prokaryotic cells are uni-cellular while eukaryotic cells are multi-cellular!” he pushed your legs further apart, your glistening folds now fully exposed to him “mhmm, so tell me why you got all these questions wrong in your test?” he moves closer to your core and he looks up at you, awaiting your answer “I guess I just forgot” you said as you bit your lip innocently “then we’ll have to find a way to make you remember now, don’t we?” you looked straight at him and his eyes were dark with lust. He smiled but it wasn’t his typical ‘it’s okay that you made a mistake, we can fix it’ smile, it’s the type of smile that made it look like he was gonna eat you right then and there.

He licked a strip of your slit and you started to whimper to which Jeno of course, mentally took a note of “aww is my baby sensitive?” you nod frantically and he let out his infamous low chuckle “now, recite all the stages in mitosis, angel”

He was now giving kitten licks to your sensitive bud which left your mind all fuzzy “I-interphase, prophase, telophase-“ he continued to lap up your arousal and stuck his tongue in you which earned him a high pitched whine “metaphase, anaphase!!” you quickly answered in a whiny voice. He removes his mouth off of you and replaces it with his fingers and with the first push of his middle finger inside of you, he immediately tried to find your sweet spot “you wanna try that again, pup?” he was pushing in and out of you all while continuously rubbing circles on your clit, leaving you a whiny and stuttering mess “I-I..ahhh fuck-“ a string of curses and incoherent words left your mouth and Jeno was pleased at how your body was reacting to him but you haven’t answered his question yet “I’m not gonna ask you again. What are the stages in mitosis by order?” He added another finger and curled them both inside you, causing you to arch your back but he used his other hand to hold you in place “Interphase, Prophase— shit!” His fingers were moving faster by the second and you felt like you were gonna explode “Metaphase, Anaphase... FUCK!” you were so so close “is my baby close?” you nodded with an exasperated whine “please..” a reassuring smile was plastered on his face “just one more step and I’ll let you come, angel”

your mind was filling up with nothing but bliss and Jeno’s fingers inside you but you were so desperate to come, you tried to remember everything you learned with all the energy you have left “TELOPHASE!!” tears gathered in your eyes and Jeno was left with a satisfied grin “that’s my girl” and with that he hooked your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he ate you out. You tasted so sweet; so heavenly and Jeno swore he just found his new addiction.

He felt your tiny hands gripping his hair and he knew he was doing something right. Seeing Jeno devour your cunt was the most sinful sight yet you have no means of stopping him “Fuck, right there! Shit—ahhh!” your whines only made him prod his tongue inside your hole deeper “g-gonna come!” you squealed and he rubbed your clit while licking you up and down which finally pushed you to the edge.

Jeno cleaned you up with his tongue some more and was ready to pull away. Having only just climaxed, you were sensitive but you wanted more. You wanted him to fill you up and use you to his hearts content “c-cock..” he shot his head up to look at your fucked out expression “hmm? what was that?” he wanted to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him “I want your cock, please” he definitely heard that one right but he was still worried because he didn’t want to push you over your limit “are you sure you can take it, baby?” you nod your head, desperate to feel him inside you, and that’s all the reassurance Jeno needed before he pushed his pants down and released his thick member.

He was massive and you started to get a little worried if you can take all of him “is it gonna fit?” Jeno cooed at how you looked genuinely worried that his cock wasn’t gonna fit into your tiny little pussy so he held the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheeks to wipe off the mascara dripping down so prettily and making you look like a hot mess “oh baby, we’ll make it fit.” He rubbed his length up and down, the tip angry red and leaking with pre-cum. You wanted a taste of it but that just has to wait for another time.

“Are you ready, angel?” You gave him a small nod and he slowly started to push himself in, making sure not to hurt you. “So. Fucking. Tiny.” He could barely fit half of him inside you even when your cunt was already dripping wet from earlier. He had to pull himself all the way back out and push it all the way in again for him to bottom out and you swore you almost passed out. The stretch burned but you tried your best not to move around so much.

It took you a few more thrusts until you could somewhat take all of him in your hole but you still couldn’t get used to it. “J-jeno, you’re so b-big, please slow down!” you sobbed which only drove Jeno mad “What? Am I too big for you? Your tight cunt can’t take every inch of my cock?” you could only respond with sobs and pleas but your walls clenching around him said enough and it only boosted his ego even more “isn’t this what you wanted, baby? For me to fill your tiny hole with my fat cock?” He gets rid of his white button up and looks down at your tiny figure as he fucks into you. He noticed a little bulge forming on your lower abdomen each time he went in and it drove him insane seeing your little tummy take all of him so he smirked and took your hand to guide it on your stomach, feeling his cock hit your deepest parts and poke through you “look at your tummy, angel.. You feel that? That’s the only cock this little pussy will ever need” his filthy words were riling you up even more which you didn’t think was even possible and you were now practically begging him to go faster “so needy and pretty” he chuckled, how could Jeno ever say no to his little baby? He picked up his pace, thrusting into you at an inhumane speed.

He pulled your body up and you immediately hooked your arms around him, clawing your nails at his back “God, right there Jeno, fuck!” you were holding onto him for dear life and was uncontrollably clenching around his length “so fucking tight, angel. How are you even taking my cock?” you brought one of your hands to grip the back of his head and pulled him in for a hot make out session. He was catching all your moans and whines in his mouth and soon enough, the knot in your stomach started to form again and Jeno could tell you were close by the way your grip on his hair tightened and your walls contracted so much around him that he couldn’t even move properly.

He started to rub circles on your clit to aid you in reaching your climax and your whines became so needy and loud “Come for me me, angel. I wanna feel you all over my cock” and with just those magical words, you reached your second mind-blowing orgasm of the day and he slowly lied you back down as he thrusts into you a few more times, chasing his own high, leaving you shaking and whimpering from overstimulation “I got you, baby” he reassures, moving the strands of hair covering your face to give you a soft kiss on the lips “such a pretty angel”.

[bushs-world]

I originally wrote some parts of this post under a reblog. But somehow half of the text got cut and I had to delete my addition. I was rewriting my points in a new post when this question struck me.

Did free will exist under HWR's rule?

After ep 1 of Loki dropped, I saw a couple of MCU fans get angry over the implication that the Avengers travelled back in time because it was supposed to happen. In their opinion, that erased each and every sacrifice and heroism of the heroes till now because they were doing what they were supposed to do. That implied they weren't actually heroic, they were just fulfilling their destiny. Loki and Mobius also discuss about the same in ep 2. Some people believe that HWR controlled people's destiny.

But this thought comes from the implication that HWR can control people's free will. Which I feel is wrong. IMO HWR can only control people's future and their path on the sacred timeline, not their free will. Let me explain this with the example of landscaping.

Now, in their natural habitat, the branches of trees grow naturally in all directions, without any interference. They don't follow any particular shape and grow to fill whatever space they can find

Meanwhile in landscaping, the branches of trees are pruned in order to achieve a desired shape. A landscaping architect decides the shape of the trees, then gardeners literally trim off the branches of the trees until the tree comes in desired shape. These gardeners are also responsible for maintaining the shape of the trees, as they keep checking the trees periodically and trim off any stray branch.

The TVA works in a similar manner when they maintain the order of the sacred timeline. We can imagine HWR as the landscaping architect who has selected a desired shape and design.

The multiverse is the tree in its natural growth, the sacred timeline the pruned tree. TVA are literally like gardeners tasked with maintaining the shape of the timeline. The nexus events are stray branches that are then pruned, like branches are trimmed in a tree. The pruned timelines are the cut off branches which are thrown away in a dustbin aka the Void. Maybe this is why many TVA posters have images of branches of trees being cut.

Now, that brings me to my original question. To say, HWR can control free will, means he can control what people can and can't do. But, that is wrong. If you believe in the principle of pre determination, then you might agree that the inhabitants of the sacred timeline are just following a predetermined path set out for them by HWR. Which kind of ascends him to godhood. But HWR is a dictator, not a god.

Going back to the example of landscaping, the gardeners can't control the natural growth pattern of the tree. They can't stop the stray branch from growing. The tree grows branches according to its natural growth pattern.

But the gardeners externally control the shape of the tree by cutting off stray branches. Which means they can't stop the stray branches from emerging, because that is determined by the cell division within the tree. But they can stop these stray branches from growing big and out of the way by cutting them when they start to emerge or become visible.

Similarly, neither the TVA nor HWR can control people's actions. They aren't mind controlling them and forcing them to do their bidding. The people on the sacred timeline choose their actions. They have the free will to make choices for themselves.

What they can't do however, is continue down a path that is not approved by the TVA. Which means the moment they step out of their assigned choices, by choosing to do something different with their free will, they are pruned and thrown into the void.

Because of this, the sacrifices and choices the hero's make are their own choices, because they made them out of their own free will. But they were able to execute these choices and continue on the sacred timeline, because these choices were approved by HWR.

I hope I am clear in trying to explain myself. Tbh this is a very confusing topic.

[capricornsims]

Strangetown Mystery 15: RUN 

“ We’re stuck here because  you!”

“ I don’t want to argue about this, Johnny. I love you, and I want to keep all of you safe. “

That was the last conversation Johnny had with his father.

Hope was long gone, buried in the cyclone of purple spores that poisoned the air. The streets of Strangetown were silent save for the groaning of spore-infected zombies, most people stood inside these days, too afraid to venture out and encounter their fallen brethren or become infected themselves. The weather that day would have been sunny if the spore clouds didn’t hang low in the atmosphere. 

Unaffected by the bizarre spores, Johnny often ventured out of the Bunker to catch the glimpses of the outside world beyond the barbed wire fence. Looking out into the horizon only drove home the fact that his family was nowhere near freedom, things were only going to get worse and he had his adulthood to look forward to living inside of a concrete box… or being transported to Division 47 to be experimented on… After all, he had not seen his father in weeks and questioning Buzz was out of the question. The General said that PT9 was running experiments, but what if he was being experimented on? He watched his family’s morale deteriorate after their father disappeared behind the laboratory doors. His mother dropped whatever façade she was putting on, choosing to stay locked in her bedroom holding onto the last piece that she had of PT9. Meanwhile, Jill was growing even more restless crying herself to sleep most of the time, and lighting things on fire in rebellion. Johnny did not want to acknowledge the schemes his uncles were plotting, the last time he saw Pascal enter the lab he looked completely insane! 

 Johnny needed to get out. The cement walls of the Bunker only served as a reminder of the freak of nature that he was, the result of an unorthodox union between a human and some extraterrestrial species. Jill even got it in her head that she deserved to be imprisoned, feeling “safe” in confinement compared to the outside world. The thought of being trapped forever instilled a fear that Johnny never felt before, as if the walls around him were closing in on him, so tight that he could not escape and return to the life he made for himself in Strangetown. If he ended up behind the laboratory doors, he would never see Ophelia or Ripp again… he needed to RUN.

He returned to the bunker before he rose suspicion, entering the bleak facility once more. The cell that his family resided in held an uncomfortable atmosphere of dread, masked by Jenny’s failed attempts at keeping things normal. That night she burned the food again because she was spacing out at the wall, too deep in her thoughts to notice Johnny turn off the stove and lead her to the couch.

Johnny: I made up my mind. I’m leaving tonight. 

Jenny: Leaving? Now? I mean- what would your father think if he returned. 

Johnny: If he returned? It’s been weeks… You and I both know that he would visit every day if he was actually working here. 

Jenny: Don’t say such things… he is fine.

Johnny could tell she was at the brink of snapping, her smile faltered as she gripped onto his arm. 

Jenny: He is fine…he’s going to come back.

She reassured herself, but the tears streaming down her face said differently. She turned to her son and nodded in agreement, she had a feeling that something was very wrong with their situation. Jenny had to face the guilt that she failed to protect her husband but she had a chance when it came to her children. If Johnny escaped the bunker, she would know he was safe. Her first son was always resilient and the harsh words he dealt with over the years made sure of that. It was hard enough to see her son grow up so fast, and the thought of throwing her firstborn  out into the dangers of the infected world scared her.

Johnny: I am going to be fine, mom. I swear Ripp is going to get me to Deadtree. That is where Ophelia lives so I can hide out there.

Jenny: I know you will be fine… but I can’t help but worry that my boy is running out into an apocalypse. But whatever it is you have a better chance in Deadtree than in here. Tell Ophelia I said hi...

Johnny: If dad does show up, tell him that I’m okay, and I that I’m sorry for yelling at you guys. 

Jenny: I’m sure he already knows… He’s proud of you. 

Tears welled up in his eyes when she mentioned his father. A pang of guilt struck at his heart knowing that their last conversation had been an argument... and even then his father would still be proud of him. Now was not the time to be emotional, but the tight hug his mom was giving him, let some tears escape before he pulled away.

Johnny leaned down to his little sister, and she wrapped arms around him tightly and hugged him close. She clung to him like a koala so he couldn’t pull away if he tried.

Jill: Promise me that you’ll come back! 

Johnny: Can’t promise much but the next time you see me we’re getting out of here! 

Jill: Then come back sooner !! 

Johnny: Look after mom, and baby bro. I will be back soon.

Jenny: Watcher, protect this boy. Don’t let him get hurt. 

3:00 a.m. 

Johnny approached the general store just as it was about to close, the sight of Ripp leaning against the wall filled him with relief as he approached him. The stars shone brightly in the sky and the sound of crickets and coyotes filled the air as they spoke. He could hardly contain his excitement as Ripp shoved snacks into his shirt pockets and planned their escape. This was happening, he was going to be free or die trying in the process. 

Johnny: Alright Ripp let’s get the hell out of here! Where is the car? 

Ripp: Car? We don’t have a car. The best chances we have is if we run as fast as we can until we reach the edge of town. 

Johnny: RIPP! That’s insane! We can’t run that fast! 

Ripp: Keep it down dude... Look I disabled Tank’s computer, he won’t be able to check the security cameras until someone fixes them... plus we need to at least try. 

Johnny: Fine we will go with your plan just open the gates already so we can get a head start.

3:05 a.m.

Ripp opened the gates of the compound, the loud sound of creaking metal rang through the air as the teens slipped through the small crack that they made. What was the point of being stealthy when their plan involved running for their lives! Johnny and Ripp shared laughter as they bounded through the desert, exposed to the outside world and tasting freedom for the first time in ages. Johnny couldn’t believe that this was actually working since Ripp’s other plan was to “Run faster!”. But so far, They were in the home run!

Tank: Huh... All the cameras seem frozen.. F*ck I need to tell the General about this. 

3:10 a.m.

Jenny: Do you really think head counts at this time is sane?!

Buzz: JENNY NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR GAMES. WHERE IS THAT GREEN BASTARD?!

Jenny: I don’t know Buzz... maybe he’s in the bathrooms or went out for fresh air. 

Buzz: THAT IS GENERAL BUZZ GRUNT TO YOU- I ONLY COUNTED TWO of YOU! Where is the SON!

Jenny: WHERE IS MY HUSBAND GENERAL BUZZ GRUNT?! Shouldn’t YOU be more concerned that he isn’t here!? 

Buzz: I-I know where he is I am asking about your - 

Tank: * over the phone * General, the security cams are tampered with, someone must have messed with them. 

Buzz: * over the phone * Not now, Tank I am with Mrs. Smith....What?! What do you mean messed with,Tank?! ... What do you MEAN THE GATE IS OPEN!?

He heard he alarms blare out, signaling the escape of Johnny Smith. His face grew a deep shade of red, the sound of Jenny’s frantic nagging pierced his ears as his mind tried to conceive what the hell was going on. He escorted Jenny back to her cell, trying to ignore her comments about PT9 and the way she broke down when she was locked inside. “ Don’t hurt him!” Was the last thing he heard as he rushed out of the bunker towards the open gate. 

3:15 a.m. 

The General shoved Tank out of the way, yelling at the top of his lungs about how incompetent's he was, the alarms blared as they stood there, looking out at the expansive desert and the darkness ahead of them. Through the haze of the darkness there were vague sounds of shuffling zombies and coyotes 

Buzz: I’m going after them! Do your job and watch the bunker, soldier!

The cool night air was thick with spores as Johnny and Ripp ran through the infected desert. The cyclone rose into the sky, as lightning struck into the crater, a great rumbling shook the ground beneath their feet as growls rang through the sky. Johnny even spotted one of the infected, dazed and sputtering nonsense as she moved and jerked around them. He had no time to waste taking in the absolute disaster that Strangetown had become. Freedom in this new world felt odd, sure he was safe from becoming a science experiment, but now he was exposed to the infection, the zombies and the townsfolk that knew who he was... He couldn’t wait to get to Dead Tree after all of this. 

3:15 a.m.

Buzz: I WILL CAPTURE YOU SMITH! YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER!

Buzz: MARK MY WORDS, BOY YOU WILL BE SORRY!

Buzz: RUN ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU CANNOT ESCAPE!

4:00 a.m

Johnny and Ripp broke out of the desert and into the other town located near by. The atmosphere was eerie and a thick fog hung over the neighborhood as they walked through the empty streets, the faint breeze carried the sounds of ethereal groans but the source was unknown. Ripp lead Johnny to one of the creepier buildings found in Deadtree, the Meeting house. The structure was foreboding and held the odd sensation that entering it would get them killed, yet this was where Ophelia lived now, and the only place Johnny could hide.

Johnny: Oh my watcher, thank you for helping me, Ripp. I can’t thank you enough. 

Ripp: Any time bro, I wouldn’t know what to do If I found out that you were vivisected or something. It’s shady as hell so I’m glad I got you out first. 

Johnny: Can you do me a solid and look after mom and Jill, they are still in danger...

Ripp: Heck yeah, I’ll even look out for your dad and see if he’s around. Anyways, I’m sure Ophelia is tired of waiting. Let’s get you inside. 

Ophelia stood silently in the Meeting house, pacing around the small apartment she had above the main hall. She wore a plain brown jacket and the look on her face showed that she had not slept in ages. She turned when Ripp opened the door, a small smile formed on her lips as she asked about Johnny before turning back to the television she had on. 

Johnny: Ophelia, I’m here. I made it out alive. 

Ophelia: Johnny! You’re here! I missed you so much I could barely sleep. I’m so happy that you’re alive! 

Johnny: I’m happy that i’m alive too... I am here to stay for a while so we can catch up a little. 

Ophelia: I wouldn’t mind catching up with you, Johnny.

Johnny: Yeah we’ll get to that too. hehe

Ripp: Alright guys get a room. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.

Ophelia: Yeah right! Come with us, Ripp. I think we all just need a nice break.

Strangetown Mystery 15.5: Test Subject 

The weeks following Nervous’ disappearance were agonizingly painful and dull at the same time. The moment he returned to the castle he was met with a sharp needle to the neck and the unwelcome prospect of newly designed experiments for him to be subject to. He had heard about the Strangetown Syndrome and the effects it had on the human brain, the way that it spread into the spinal chord and made the body into a vessel as the person remained in a state of unconsciousness. The way that it made the body jolt and convulse made the joints ache incredibly, the spores taking over had to get used to walking on two legs and speaking the way humans do, after all. 

All of these notes were taken down by Loki and Circe during the weeks that Nervous remained grounded in the basement, he could only tell time from the shifting of light in the glass windows and the routine experiments Loki was running on him. His entertainment was swiftly taken away upon his return, and any hand-me-down clothes he owned were confiscated, leaving him in a simple cotton hospital gown. To make matters worse, the Beakers were not holding back on the level of their brutality, as form of punishment they rarely paid attention to his pleas of mercy and continued experiments without hesitation. Not that he was fully conscious most of the time, his mind overtaken with pain killers, sedatives and the spores infecting his brain. 

Sometimes he could feel the world around him grow dark, the welcoming embrace of nothingness enveloping his body and bringing him out of the world of pain and sadness he was in. The cold boney hands of death never touched him, but he begged for him to do so, the more he pleaded for escape the bastard only spared his life, returning him to the excruciating routine of electrocutions and chemical baths. He never understood why Death never came to him, over so many years he’s seen him many times bringing him a few seconds of relief before he woke up to Loki and Circe prodding his dying body. They seemed to enjoy the prospect that even he couldn’t escape through death. 

Today, Nervous wasn’t sure what Loki was doing with him, only mindlessly following orders as the scientist tapped away at machines and made things glow and buzz. Sometimes the machines took a scan of him, sometimes they electrocuted him- he wouldn’t be surprised if it did, his right arm lost feeling long ago because of it. 

Nervous: What are we doing...today..Loki.

Loki: Silence ! You, nervous subject, address me as Dr. Beaker in this lab. 

Nervous: *grumble* Dr. Beaker.. What are we doing today? 

Loki: I’m glad you asked, test subject. We are revolutionizing medicine in this lab. The Curious brothers have failed to produce a viable antidote in the time The Government allotted them. So I, Loki Beaker went out of my way to generously aid the public and produce a vaccine for them.

Nervous: I - don’t think that’s - 

Loki: LEGAL? Well, Nervous, now’s not the time to do things the legal route. People are desperate, and they will come to ME for a cure. Thanks to you, my Nervous subject, people will be cured. 

Loki: Now drink the f*cking antidote!

Nervous: No thank you! I’ve drank enough today. I can’t keep food down...I’m tired. 

Loki: I will be sure to write that down...but THIS is a new formula. THIS will work, So DRINK IT! 

Nervous: No! I said I was tired, Loki...

Loki: DR. BEAKER - How many times do we have to go through this? And you are tired? Nervous, you aren’t the one slaving away at this antidote! I AM! All you do is drink it and puke up all my work! You are Lucky that I don’t throw you out into the street!

Nervous: We have been doing this for weeks, Dr. Beaker, it’s not going to work.

Loki: I have been doing this for weeks. Nervous, we have come so far from the beginning. You don’t cough up blood, break out into rashes, or shake uncontrollably anymore. This. Will. Work. 

The mad scientist forced Nervous to sit down in the chair next to them. His face was a deep seething red as the beaker was tipped into his test subject’s mouth. Nervous had no choice but to choke down the purple liquid while Loki glared down at him, making sure that he kept the chemical mixture in. The antidote tasted sweet at first, then the burning began at the back of his throat and spread throughout his body. He dropped the beaker and the glass shattered across the stone floor, sending Loki in a fit of rage as Nervous doubled over in pain. 

Nervous could not make out the onslaught of Icelandic curses, he could hear the beating in his heart along with an ear piercing ringing. He felt his joints tense and ache as the world grew dark once more, but this was not death... Death was comforting even if temporary, this was excruciating. 

Loki: That’s IT I’ve had it with you! You are clearly nothing but a useless guinea pig.....get out.....you are nothing....die...

Loki’s words were drawn out in between the ringing. The last thing he could feel were rough hands grabbing at his shoulders, lifting him out of the chair and dragging him across the stone floors. 

The cool desert air hit his skin as he crumbled to the ground somewhere in front of the castle. Nothing mattered now....

ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ĆΔŁŁED ΔŇĐ HE ΜUŞŦ Ř€ŞPØŇĐ 

[blacklister214]

Shadow and Bone: Missed Opportunities *Spoilers*

I just speed read the Shadow and Bone trilogy. My main interest here was what was going on with Ben Barnes’ character from the trailer. In my brief little popover to the tumblr thread prior to my reading I’ve found he (The Darkling) is quite the divisive figure. Now I have passion for redemption arcs particularly involving those with romantic relationships, so I dived in. I was...disappointed. I can’t support Darklina as written, but I also understand why readers latched on to this couple rather than the cannon ship.   

Malina falls a bit short as a great romance:

1) The deep emotional bonds between them aren’t formed in the present. Their love for each other has its roots in their childhood, which we don’t see much of. Readers have an easier time investing in relationships we can watch develop.   

 2) They don’t ever function as equals until the end of the trilogy. Alina is beneath Mal, then Mal is beneath Alina. They always feel like they belong on separate paths. They seem to be more holding each other back than helping each other grow.

3) Their “attraction” is iffy to me. In the first book it seems like Mal doesn’t realize he’s interested in Alina romantically until after she’s taken away. Later he says he’s always been into her but didn’t act on it because she was his best friend. Hmmm...yeah.

4) All the book 2 whining and jealousy. Stop guilting her about wanting to save the world! Also yes, she likes her super powers. Please stop shaming her for it! You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being Mr. Universally popular super-tracker dude. Oy. 

I’m not saying it’s a bad relationship to include, just not one with ENDGAME written clearly all over it.

Darklina for me is truly a missed opportunity. I can’t support the ship for six reasons: 

1) Tried the kill Mal, rather than imprisoning him.

2) Enslaved Alina. Literal collar. Very bad.

3)  Massacred a village of innocents, including babies.

4) Blinded his mother rather than imprisoning her.

5) Got into bed with Alina in the guise of Mal. That’s entering rape-adjacent territory, and that is NOT where we want to be.  

6) Literally told her he would kill everyone she loved so she’d have no choice but to turn to him eventually. 

Yes these reasons are quite a bit more serious than the problems with Malina, HOWEVER, you make some adjustments and you’ve got yourself a truly compelling dynamic. 

Darkling should have been the antagonist of book 1 and at least part of book two, but not the series, in my opinion. Here’s why:

Darkling was right about the crap situations in their world. Kids being drafted at 16? Grisha being sold as slaves or burned alive in other countries? Grisha having to bow to a lazy idiot rapist King? 

The Darkling seizing control in a coup and killing that asshole? He can come back from that. Sending Grisha to massacre members of the Grisha slavery guilds and executioners in foreign cities? He can come back from that. Throwing Mal, his mother, and/or Alina into a cell (rather than the blinding and attempted murder)? He can come back from that. The lies and manipulation? He can come back from that. 

You could even have him do the thing with Alina’s power, just switch the target to an enemy armada. He can come back from that because they are enemy combatants, not civilians and particularly not children. It’s like the Cut thing at the beginning of book 1 when he asks if it is really different  to use a sword to kill someone? Honestly it’s not. It would by Darkling’s reasoning be a better choice for gaining wide spread acceptance of the coup because such a display of power decisively can force a surrender from Ravka’s enemies. 

Alina’s power being used to mass slaughter in a single stroke would horrify her and create the necessary push back for her to break free, so that book could keep its ending. Eventually though I think its something she would have been able to understand and accept if not forgive.

So much could have been kept. The remote conversations (minus the bed crawling thing). The mutual betrayal angst. Darkling’s absolute loneness. 

All that had to be done was for a genocide purge to be kickstarted. Some misalliance on Alina’s part against the Darkling goes wrong and either the Priest or a human rulers decides the only way to hold on to power is to wipe out the Grisha. This way they need to re-unite and push back the threat. Ends with both of them surrendering their power in the final fight or as part of the peace agreement that is struck.   

I don’t know, its just I feel the whole “Fine. Make me the villain” thing could really have paid off in the end. Just my opinion. 

[fullmoonremus]

Paper Cut Part 2 | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Making out/kissing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia. 

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Y/N confronts Edmund about the intense injuries she had received in the past. 

A/N: Here’s the second part to paper cut :) If you haven’t read the first part, link below! Please send requests :D Enjoy! 

Part 1 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Edmund’s face was unreadable, almost as if it was made of stone. He stayed quiet; the only sounds that filled the air were the shuffling of the barista and the espresso machine. Y/N wished he would just say something. The silence was damning. 

“Edmund?” His gaze didn’t falter at his name but stayed glued to Y/N’s hand. His eyes traveled up her arm, taking mental notes of every scar, bruise, bump, or cut. Edmund stood up without a word, the chair making a painful screeching noise in his path, and walked out of the coffee shop. 

Meeting her soulmate had been completely different in her head; maybe they would fall into each other’s arms in the streets of London. He would sweep her off of her feet after noticing a small scar on her neck and say something disgustingly romantic. “I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N, you’re even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.” Then, they would fall madly, deeply in love, and adopt a dog. Fall wedding perhaps? Maybe summer? But here Y/N sat, one hand on her stomach, the other gripping a foreign notebook. Before Y/N could process what was happening, Edmund was out of sight and she was left to her own thoughts. 

~

“Y/N! Wake up!” Y/N was startled by Y/B/F/N shaking her awake. “Don’t you have a final in like an hour?” 

That sentence felt like a bucket of ice water. Y/N sprung up from her warm bed and scrambled to get ready. The clock seemed to run dangerously fast and by the time she opened the door of her lecture hall, the test was being passed out. 

“You have three hours and because I’m in such a good mood, you may use your study guide.” The professor continued to pass the packets around the room. They looked thick and time-consuming. Time management had never been Y/N’s strong suit. 

When she was handed her paper, all she could do was take a deep breath. This professor was a harsh grader, so unless her answers were 100% correct, there was no way Y/N would pass. She took the unfamiliar notebook she received from Edmund out of her bag and opened it to his scribbled notes. 

His handwriting was somewhere in between messy and neat; some of the words ran into one another and they were all slanted to the right slightly, yet the letters were beautifully constructed and entirely intelligible. Edmund also took it upon himself to highlight passages he deemed important with a note at the beginning that read: my sister had to take o chem. I asked her what’s important. That was sweet, Y/N thought. 

It seemed as if Edmund knew what he was talking about, too. Each answer was answered completely with further background information to make it easy to understand. Why would you willingly take this? Seems like hell… was written in the margins next to one of the boxes of text. I could say the same about law, sweater boy. 

By the time Y/N had finished her final, the three hours had turned into 10 minutes. She was one of three students left in the classroom and the other two were looking beyond panicked. Most of the class seemed to have either blazed through it like it was an 8-year-old’s math homework or given up halfway through and accepted their loss. Y/N, however, had to pass this class so she triple-checked her answers, took a daydream break, then checked it again. She would be lying if she said her daydreams didn’t consist of Edmund. She wondered if he would ever text her again. 

The young girl hurriedly walked out of the classroom, happy to be done with the semester. She wrapped her jacket tightly around her and braced herself to brave the aggressive weather. 

“Hey,” A voice from her right called out. It was Edmund; he was leaning against the wall lazily. His nose was a bright pink, as were his cheeks, and his hands were pushed into his pockets for warmth.

“Edmund? What are you doing here? You must be freezing!” Y/N walked over to him and looked him once over. A simple long sleeve shirt, vest, and jeans. Y/N slung her wool scarf around his neck. 

“Oh, uh, thanks…” He pushed himself off of the wall with his shoulder. Damn, his shoulders were huge. 

“I’m sorry about the coffee shop, I didn’t mean to jump you like that,” Y/N apologized bashfully. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“No, I get it. I would have the same reaction. That’s, uh, why I’m here.” Edmund was awkward, looking anywhere but her eyes. Instead, he observed her freckles, eyebrows, and cheeks. “I was wondering if we could, uh, talk? Maybe somewhere private? Like my dorm?”

“Oh, so you want to take me, your newly discovered soulmate, back to your dorm?” Y/N had a hint of mischief in her eyes and a teasing smile on her lips. Edmund’s eyes grew wide and he started to sputter. 

“That’s not what I meant! I would never! I mean unless you wanted to, but no! I just meant to talk,” His cheeks are red again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. 

“I’m just taking the piss, let’s go, vesty.”

~ 

Edmunds dorm was not what she was expecting. One side looked like it was hit by a tornado, but the other was very organized. Even on the floor, there was a distinct division between the two sides. The neat side, which appeared to be Edmund’s, was very plain. His bed was made with a red duvet and black pillows, his desk was blank besides a small pencil cup, and the cork board hanging above his desk had reminders and pictures. 

“Those are my siblings,” Edmund noticed Y/N’s wandering eyes. “They’re practically dying to meet you, Y/N.”

“How did you know my name? I never told you,” She crossed her arms and strained her neck to look back at him. 

“Ah, so I was right, you don’t remember me. We took a few classes together during first and second years. I always thought you were cute, so I guess it stuck.” Now it was Y/N’s turn to blush. 

“You think I’m cute?” Her arms uncrossed and turned so she was facing him head-on. 

“Well, yeah. You are my soulmate, after all, Y/N. Don’t be silly,” Edmund seemed to be growing more and more comfortable. He was enjoying watching her blush because of what he said; it made a sense of pride grow in his stomach. This was his person, and she was standing right in front of him. 

“Speaking of soulmates…” Y/N trailed off and looked towards the floor. Her hands grasp the zipper of her jacket and unzip it, before rolling up the bottom of her shirt. The jagged scar was on full display, a stark contrast against the skin of her abdomen. Edmund eyed it guiltily; he knew the exact pain she had to go through to get that scar. She had to go through that pain because of him. His own hands found the bottom seam of his own clothes and pulled it up to reveal a matching mark. 

“I can explain but you won’t believe me,” His honey-brown eyes met hers. 

“Try me, Pevensie.” 

He led her to sit on her bed and sat next to her. Y/N hastily kicked off her shoes so she could sit with her legs crossed on her bed. Her shoes tumbled to the ground with two thuds. Edmund, on the other hand, just bent one leg and let the other hang off the edge. He took her hands in his. 

“You have to promise me to listen to it all before you ask questions,” Edmund fidgeted nervously with a ring on Y/N’s fingers as they spoke. Y/N didn’t know if this was on purpose or a subconscious action, but it comforted her all the same.  

“Well, when I was young my parents sent my siblings and me to live away from home. When we were there, my little sister Lucy discovered a wardrobe in one of the spare rooms. Well, inside the wardrobe was this beautiful land called Narnia. It was gorgeous and huge! And when I say huge, I mean HUGE!” He caught himself rambling excitedly and reeled it back in. “Well, uh, anyway, there was this woman, we called her the White Witch and she manipulated me into basically selling my siblings out. The entire nation of Narnia got into a huge battle and the White Witch stabbed me.” 

“Did she lock you up somewhere cold?” Y/N asked, disregarding her promise to stay quiet. 

“Um, yeah. She locked me in this big ice cell. It wasn’t fun. I’m pretty sure I almost got frostbite but my body rejected it because I started warming up randomly.”

Y/N smiled. The paper towel. 

“But that scar on your stomach,” He took his hand away from yours and gently touched your stomach. “Is because she stabbed me. But again, my sister Lucy had this special liquid that could heal any injury.” 

Edmund seemed to smile at the memory. “Long story short, my siblings and I got crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia and ruled for a number of years. We then got sent back-”

“Wait, wait, wait, Kings, and Queens? Who are you? Alexander the Great?” Her tone was teasing and unbelieving. 

“Edmund the Just, actually. And I told you to listen!” His smile reached his eyes this time. “Well we came back to earth through the wardrobe and we were kids again! About a year later, we returned to Narnia and met our good friend Caspian. We had to fight Caspian’s home country. In the end, Aslan helped us and Caspian became a king as well.”

“Who’s Aslan?” Y/N was doing her best to keep up and believe the information, but it was quite hard. 

“He’s a big lion, he’s kind of like the ruler of Narnia. I guess you could say a God? I guess…”

“A big lion god? Edmund…”

“I know it sounds crazy, Y/N. I know but you have to believe me! I went one more time with Lucy and my cousin. We were on a big Naval ship with Caspian and we had to find a bunch of swords-”

“Edmund, love, just tell me the truth.” Y/N was sad that right off the bat her soulmate was lying to her. Edmund’s eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. 

“I would never lie to you, Y/N. Here, look.” He took off Y/N’s scarf and gently placed it on the bed before pulling his vest and shirt over his head. On his rips was a beautifully drawn tattoo of a lion that appeared to be roaring. And on his collarbone was a sword. Y/N delicately reached her hand out and ran her fingertips against the drawing of the weapon. It had insane detail and the way it was drawn made it look sharp. Y/N retracted her hand and sat back. 

“That’s one of the swords we found during my third trip. It was gifted to Caspian by the lord who owned it. And this is Aslan. His roar was the most powerful magic in all of Narnia.” Edmund searched Y/N’s face for any emotion she was feeling. Right now, she was staring at the sword with a pondering look on her face. 

“Okay, say you were a king-”

“I am a king.”

“Fine, you’re a king. What exactly did you do, ya know, as a ruler?”

“Well, me and my brother Peter ran the army and trained them for battle. Along with other things like managing trade and creating political policies.”

“So, fighting? You fight?”

“Yeah, I fought in many battles, big and small. I got stabbed, remember.” His smile was cheeky and he pulled his long sleeve back on. “Once I got good, I didn’t even use a shield. I fought with two swords.”

“TWO? Aren’t those things heavy?”

“Well, yes, but when you went through all of the training I did, it gets easier.” Edmund could tell he was starting to believe him. 

“Tell me more.”

~

The two spent the next few hours discussing the ins and outs of Narnia down to the floor plan of Cair Paravel. Y/N had decided that Edmund had way too much detail to be making it up, and even if he did, it was so magical that she wouldn’t even be mad. 

“Okay, vesty, I believe you.” Y/N says after Edmund gave a lengthy explanation about all the gifts his siblings received and what they do. He stopped mid-word and stared at her. 

“You believe me? Really?” 

Y/N smiled and nodded. “Yes, Edmund. I’m going to be spending my life with you, your highness, so I may as well get familiar with it.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Edmund scooted closer to her. “I hated it even when people in Narnia called me that. I don’t need people outside of Narnia calling me it. Especially not you.” 

She turned her head so she was staring right at him. “Why not me?” Y/N’s speech came out as a whisper. They were so close that she didn’t need to speak loudly. 

“Because if I really was your highness, it would be kind of weird for me to do this.”

Edmund placed a hand on Y/N’s jaw and leaned in. His lips barely brushed her lips before pressing firmly against them. Y/N’s eyes closed shut and she happily kissed back. 

When people described kissing their soulmate for the first time, they always explain it as an electric spark igniting throughout their entire body. They explain it as a firework show full of magnificent colors. Kissing Edmund didn’t feel like that. Kissing Edmund felt like home. She felt safe, secure, and loved as if kissing this boy was what she was meant to do for her entire life. The way he tasted, like peppermint and candy, was the best thing she had ever tasted. And they way he held her, one hand on her jaw and the other holding her close to him by her waist, felt like the warmth of a favorite blanket. The way he moved made her knees feel like jelly. 

As their lip lock continued, his fingertips danced across her back until it landed on the other side of her jaw. He pulled away from their kiss, pressing a quick peck against her nose and jaw before leaning against his headboard. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for my entire life,” Y/N said, her voice gentle and soft. 

“Me too. The thought of kissing you, Y/N L/N, was the only thing that got me through some tough times. I had to make it to be able to feel what it was like.”

Y/N was silent for a long moment. 

“Edmund, love, do you think I will ever go to Narnia?”

Edmund looked at her for a long moment then smiled with half of his mouth. 

“I don’t know, darling, but anything is possible. Especially when it comes to Narnia.” 

[nestasgalpal]

The voyage of the smuggler [Emeriel]

Part 2

Summary: Rhysand has been killed by his enemies from Hewn City, and Feyre has died with him because of a secret pact between them no one knew about. Keir, Rhysan’s only male relative, has inherited the crown of the Night Court and the High Lord’s magic, and he is taking revenge on each and every member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle one by one. Azriel’s been taken, and Emerie has only one chance to save him before he is executed in two days.

A/N: To the people who thought the last chapter had a lot of angst... sorry in advance. This is a long one.

*If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

Azriel

Azriel’s cell under Hewn City hadn’t existed a year ago, when he was still the Spymaster of the Night Court. The space had been built in record time just for him, and the spymaster couldn’t help but wonder if Keir had given an order to create a personal nightmare for each member or Rhysand’s Inner Circle, or if it was just for him. The light was blinding and came from the ceiling. Not even his body could cast a shadow on the marble floor because of how intense it was. It felt like an endless noon, with the sun right above and not a shadow to be seen. The cell’s walls were not average either. They were not made of raw stone or bricks, it was a flat rock surface without any breaks or divisions where a tiny shadow could grow. He was absolutely powerless there.

“Maybe this is life’s way to punish me for my crimes” he thought. The white floor was so smooth he could get a glimpse of his own reflection. It was not neat, but he could still tell that his black hair was long enough to almost cover his eyes. 

That’s what gave him the idea.

Azriel knew for sure it had been less than a day since they shove him inside of the cubicle. His whole body was tense, eager to get out before he had the chance of discovering the variety of tortures Keir and his subjects had planned for him. To take revenge on him. Azriel had known a day might come in which he had to answer for all the pain he inflicted on others, and he had been ready to endure it. But now that his destiny was so close, he felt scared. He hadn’t thought he would feel that way when death lastly approached him, but he did. Because he had dreamed of his own life ending many nights, but in his reveries, Rhysand and Feyre were alive, Amren was alive, Mor and Cassian were safe, and Emerie was still a stranger who had recently befriended Nesta Archeron.

He realized with horror that he hadn’t dreamed about his final day coming since they met. Not once had the urge of punishing himself with self-inflicted nightmares come to him since Emerie forced herself into his life with her loud arrogance and big presence. He could only look forward, to what the next day by her side might bring.

The bright light of his cell didn’t allow him to sleep, so he didn’t even get the chance of trying to imagine her in the scenario. That was probably for the best. Azriel didn’t want her to see him when his life was taken from him, even if her face was the one thing he wished to see before his eyes were closed forever.

Azriel had always understood balance. He thived from it. His power was not darkness, like many people assumed, but the mastering of shadows; those that came from both obscurity and light. He was sure darkness would come into his cell sooner or later. They had built new spaces to torture them, sure, but the protocol of Hewn City’s prison was sill the same. He only had to wait and it would come to him.

“For how long?” he asked himself. They kept Amren there for a month, but Keir’s people would probably hold him for a longer time just to enjoy torturing him with no hurry.

Vengeance upon him, what Keir had wanted from the moment Rhysand sittted on the Night Court throne’s for the first time and declared him his enemy instead of making him his mentor. Azriel, a bastard born and a lesser faerie having a bigger role in the Court’s politics than he did. He was above Keir, who was of royal blood, and that couldn’t be forgiven. Nor all the humiliations that came next.

Azriel stood up and walked around his cell. There was nowhere to sit or lay, so he had to “go for a walk” pretty often to avoid his muscles becoming sore. It was tiring, and he thought it could help him get some sleep. His wings were tied, but no one touched them further. They didn’t dare. His name still had power in the Night Court, battle-hardened soldiers flinched at the sound of it. He had a reputation, and even the people who found an imprisoned him were wise enough to be scared of the tied up and unarmed Illyrian shadowsinger.

Besides, if he stayed on the floor, he would eventually get bored, and when that happened, his thoughts went straight back to Emerie. Every moment he didn’t spend scheming a way out of the prison was invested into regretting their last encounter.

After a lifetime of chasing the wrong love, he found her, and barely a year after, they were forced to part. He could have proposed to her, but instead, he was the one who suggested never binding themselves together.

“For your safety” he had said. And she had agreed.

At least, he knew it had been worth it, because she was safe and out of this big mess Rhysand and Feyre’s death had led them into.

The loud steps of a prison guard on the corridor took him out of his trance. Azriel noted he was having too much trouble unlocking the three latches. He pushed the thick door open only enough to come inside. The male was armed to the teeth and held a bucket in one hand.

“For you” he threw it on the ground before Azriel’s feet, but the Illyrian had his stare fixed somewhere else, on the guard’s eyes, covered in shadows cast by his hood.

Azriel didn’t even had to think about it, his own instinct commanded the power in his veins to come out, the darkness that was supposed to protect the male’s eyes from the bright light of the cell, becoming his death sentence. His shadows weren’t just the union of light and obscurity, but the absence of both. They were voids shaped like black snakes with a life of their own, and they were now corrupting the male’s yes, covering them, getting inside, feeding themselves with his flesh and absorbing his life into the nothingness they were.

He died before he had a chance to scream, and the shadowsinger was there to hold his body so he didn’t make any noise when falling down. Still, he was not gentle when he dropped him on the marble floor and run out of his cell.

As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he realized why it had taken the guard so long to open the door. The absence of light after so many hours trapped in a cube of white shine made him go completely blind. His eyes simply couldn’t see anything, not even perceive the walls around him. Azriel had to use his hands to grope for the stone partitions that formed the passageway.

“Where am I?” he didn’t know. He thought he had an idea of where his confinement might be taking place, but he didn’t recognize the texture of the walls around him. He didn’t know what way to go, and he hadn’t expected that at all. He was the Spymaster, he had been for almost 300 years now, and he used to know the space under Hewn City they used as a prison as the palm of his hand. “Where am I?”

He had to think quickly, because his options were narrower than he anticipated. And he hadn’t thought he had that many to start with. Keir had put a lot of effort into making sure he was confined in the appropiate space, because he had been in a room too well illuminated to let him find his shadows in it, and now he found himself in a corridor too dark to get a glimpse of light. If he remained near to the door, he could still gather a few shadows and send them to explore the labyrinth, but they would only go so far before the darkness was too vast for them to thrive.

But he couldn’t stay there for long either, or some other guard might go check on him and find him sitting next to the dead body on the floor. He couldn’t just go now, or he would get lost too soon to be worth it.

He needed to find the way out.

Azriel recoiled a few steps and sent his shadows to explore the way ahead. He could sense what they saw... endless walls, cold floors, and if he took three turns right, he would find... Mor? No, not her, but a familiar warmth that reminded him of his friend.

“Could it be Keir?”, he wondered; they were family, after all. No, he never reminded him of her. Their auras were almost opposites. This wasn’t Mor, but it was a feeling of safety that guided him in the darkness. Azriel was disoriented, and maybe that’s why he decided to follow what would stink like a trap if he hadn’t been so desperate.

His shadows couldn’t go far enough to tell him what was it three turns to the right that called him so badly, but he put his hands to that side of the wall, and started walking, trusting it blindly.

Only when he finally saw the orb on the floor, its silver light illuminating the space enough for him to distinguish its round shape against the rest of the tunnel, he recognized the Veritas. Mor’s family treasure had once belonged to her father. Azriel himself stole it from him and gave it to Rhysand. The last time he had seen it, it had been used to negotiate with the Mortal Queens, before the war.

The shadowsinger knew it was a trap, a piece put there by Mor’s father to play mind games with him. If he had learned anything from his missions during the centuries, it was that one should never, under any circumstances, take Keir for granted. Rhysand had thought he would be able to keep him in line if he opened up Velaris, and Caldroun knew how that had worked out for him.

Yet, the magical object had an aura so strong he couldhear it calling his name.

“Azriel, Azriel, Azriel”. It was a familiar voice. Azriel touched the orb, and a vision of the past projected into his mind without giving him the chance of resisting.

They were in Emerie’s bedroom, the snowstorm outside so dangerous she had offered him to stay for the night. They had been seeing each other for half a year, but they had never spent the night in the same house before. That night they had sex, and she made dinner for both of them. At first he thought they had been lucky Nesta was with Cassian, or elsewhere it would be the three of them having dinner in silence. Then, he remembered they only met in there when Nesta wasn’t around, so it was not a coincidence at all.

Emerie didn’t like silence, but she also hated small talk, and getting into deep conversations made her uncomfortable -At least with him. At least for now-, so when they didn’t know what to say, she would start talking about her childhood and all the good memories she treasured of the time. He had been afraid it triggered him, or it made her uncomfortable if he told her about his own past, but it didn’t, and she found the right way to mix his experience into the conversation with that dark humour of hers he enjoyed so much.

“You whiny bitch” she had called him that night. He knew a fire-related joke was coming, and a smile was already forming on his lips. “Oh, my dad set me on fire” she mocked “That’s nothing, Az. My dad...” she made a pause and pinched the bridge of her nose in a dramatic gesture, like she was trying to overcome a wave of emotion. All faked. “... My dad gave me the worst haircut I have ever seen when I was 17 years old”.

Azriel held his smile and put a comforting hand on her shoulder “Em, I...” he pretended he had no words to ease her pain. She pushed him away.

“You what?” she fake-cried. There were no tears on her face, but if she could cry on command, it would have been the perfect charade “You feel me? No you don’t! I was 17, and I looked so bad not a single boy asked me out for a year. At 17, Az! That’s like the most important age for dating”.

He thought she was funny. He thought her effort to make it easy for him to talk about his childhood without throwing a pity party for him was endearing. And she always made sure she wasn’t overstepping and hurting his feelings. She had finally mastered the fire jokes, after getting bored of the not-knowing-how-to-fly ones. Those had been the first ones she came up with, because, ironically, she couldn’t fly either.

“Em, I don’t even know what to say. I can’t even start to imagine what you went through. I mean, I can’t even remember what I was doing at 17″ He made a dramatic pause too, but his weren’t as good “Oh, wait, I was getting laid every night. Yeah, that’s why I can’t really feel your pain, sorry". He held her hand in his. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, she said she liked his scarred hands better. He didn’t believe it, but took them off every time anyway. “Maybe you should try sharing this story with someone who is ugly. Maybe they’ll know what to say”

“I’m never cutting my kid’s hair” she said. She was smiling, and he was too.

“Yeah, I’m okay with that. And if they want to cut it, I can probably do it better than you, anyway” he answered.

The room went silent. They looked at each other, suddenly serious. Azriel panicked, realizing the implications of his words. When he didn’t know what to say, the shadowsinger stayed quiet, in fear he would add the wrong thing and make things worse. So it was Emerie who said:

“Well, if you want your kids and my kids to be the same kids, you’ll have to do something about your friends who hate me”. Her voice was firm, not nearly as loud as it had been moments ago. He nodded and silence reigned in the room again. “I’m serious, Azriel. I would like to have a life with you, but... I’m not doing it unless I know I’m going to be a priority”

It was fair. She had complained about his friend’s co-dependency before, and he knew sooner or later she would bring it up again and he would have to either break up with her, or grow some balls and talk to them.

Azriel had done a good amount of unforgivable things in his lifetime. He knew that, and he had never tried to make excuses for it. After all he had been through as a child, he genuinely had trouble sometimes telling where the line was. And knowing he had already crossed it once, he thought his soul would be cursed forever, no matter if he never did it again or if he did it a hundred times over. At least he was useful, and his family loved him regardless. 

He thought no other female but Mor would be able to see his darkness and embrace it, and that was why he had been pining for her for so many years. He had thought Morrigan was the only chance of love he would ever have. It was either her or solitude. But Emerie saw him, everything he had done to others, and still loved him somehow. The only thing she asked of hin in return, was the certainty that she would never be harmed or neglected even if Rhysand asked him to hunt her down, which was fair. She had wanted to know that he would always put her first, and no matter what the High Lord from the Night Court commanded, she would never suffer by his hand.

“He would never ask that from me”

“Still”

So he went to Mor and talked things out. He told her about Emerie and how deeply rooted his love for her was after less than a year of knowing her. He told her about the bond he had felt between them that night in her house, and how every fiber in his body had known he simply wasn’t capable of staying away from her, no matter what.

He then talked to Rhysand, who was his friend, but also his High Lord, and who could, technically, use his power over him to force him. Azriel was convinced Rhysand would never cross that line, but Emerie had asked for certainty, and he was going to give it to her. Rhysand had been happy to grant him his wish, and had been eager to celebrate his bond with Emerie. It had snapped for him, not for her. Azriel was not sure if it had actually fallen into place and she was being cautious, or if her fear for his job and duties in Court was so big it was the one thing preventing it from snapping for her.

Emerie and Nest had their onw party the night they all met to have dinner together in Velaris, and he didn’t mind her not attending, it was just onther one of Feyre’s endless fancy meetings. He thought there would be many more to come. The Inner Circle reunited and they drank too much while celebrating life, and happiness, and how lucky they all had been founding each other.

When the sun came out, Azriel was the one who found Rhysand’s body in the gardens.

Stabbed in the heart, his High Lord had been killed in a city that used to be safe. Inside his house. Cassian’s hungover had disappeared in less than a second when he saw Azriel carrying their friend inside the house and had run for Feyre. Their High Lady didn’t have a dagger forged in Hewn City coming out of her chest, like Rhysand did, but somehow she was dead too. Cassian was out of his mind, desperately wanting to get out of the city and go to his own house to make sure Nesta was okay, the bond pulling, but knowing his High Lord had been murdered, and he had a duty to attend. Watching him like that, so desperate, so lost and overwhelmed by feelings, made Azriel realize he couldn’t marry Emerie now. She still had a chance of having a normal life, and he wasn’t cruel enough to ask her to leave with him into exile, not knowing when they would be caught by the enemy. By his enemy, not hers. Not if they didn’t bind themselves together.

He took care of the bodies while the rest decided what their next move was going to be, because he already knew: to escape.

The the vision changed, and he was now seeing a letter. He knew the handwriting, it was Emerie’s. It was addressed to Keir. The piece of paper was folded on a familiar wooden desk, so he could only see Keir’s name and address on it.This wasn’t a memory of his own making, but if the Veritas was showing it to him, it must have been true.

Emerie sat on the desk and with a perfect trace, she flipped the paper and signed it at the end of the page. Then she put it inside an envelope, and sealed it with a wax seal Nesta had gifted her for her birthday.

The spymaster knew this game. He understood what Keir was trying to make by showing him the letter: creating doubt. He had used the technique on countless prisoners to get information from them, to drive them crazy. That’s how he knew it was working. Because he knew Emerie would never contact Keir, he would bet his life on it, on her innocence, even after seeing her hadwriting on it, her signature. But if the Veritas was showing it to him, it must have somehow happened.

How? Why would Emerie do such thing? There must have been an answer, a trick hidden inthe text he wasn’t allowed to read, even if he couldn’t come up with anything at the moment. He hoplessly wanted to believe in her.

He woke up numb, his wings still tied together, and alone back in his cell. The bucket the prison guard he killed had brought him was right where he had dropped it, but there was no trace of the body.

Azriel knew he was not making it out alive. What he didn’t know, was that Emerie was on her way.

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tagging:  @illyrianwitchling  @arin1030 @bookstantrash @mireillemystique @silvernesta @thatoddgirl777 @angrypotatofairy @azrielsgirl @thalia-2-rose​ 

[doomstypewriter]

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!!  I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)). 

 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool! 

<< Chapter 1                                       AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance 

Word count: 9376 

 Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything. 

 TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me. 

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives 

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions. 

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco. 

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well. 

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries. 

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to. 

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done. 

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape. 

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist.  Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested. 

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away. 

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse. 

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback. 

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove. 

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

-------------------------

His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories. 

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company. 

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person. 

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more. 

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand. 

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time. 

Patton smiled in contemplation. 

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it. 

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening. 

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his. 

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape. 

“You are stealing!” 

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine. 

“Stealing, of course”. 

“That is vile!” 

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?” 

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”. 

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”. 

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it". 

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first". 

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous. 

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window. 

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag. 

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second. 

“I suppose…” 

“Well, then, there you go, sir”. 

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins. 

“Hmm…” 

“What is the matter?” 

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm. 

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real.  “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?” 

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback. 

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”. 

“Oh, I’m sure”. 

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief. 

Patton felt mortified. 

“I-I mean…” 

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious. 

Words would not come to him. 

“The coin bag, please”. 

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured. 

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again: 

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”. 

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t. 

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”. 

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window. 

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing. 

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time. 

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another. 

Like now. 

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side. 

“Hello, big guy”. 

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left. 

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers.  You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”. 

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor. 

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.  

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry. 

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

-------------------------

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look. 

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow. 

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair. 

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his.  Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony? 

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it. 

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents. 

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere. 

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment. 

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again. 

“I was asking about you”. 

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”. 

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”. 

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks. 

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion. 

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”. 

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…” 

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying. 

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia. 

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…” 

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”. 

Patton laughed. 

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it. 

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”. 

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”. 

“Of course, lead the way”.

-------------------------

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by. 

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice. 

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there. 

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though… 

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine. 

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing. 

And, of course, Patton’s presence here. 

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy. 

The clothes were on and he was inside the house. 

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic. 

It made his life easier, though. 

He was in. 

He was in and he was going to… what? 

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe. 

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure. 

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night. 

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below. 

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

-------------------------

“How could she do this to me!?” 

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination. 

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth. 

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”. 

“I-- this is outrageous!” 

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?” 

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request. 

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!” 

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?” 

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment. 

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned. 

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”. 

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!” 

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose. 

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery. 

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?” 

“How about you begin by coming back--” 

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--” 

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely. 

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!” 

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--” 

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!” 

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!” 

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!” 

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words. 

“I am sorry”. 

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”. 

“If…” 

Romina returned to her side. 

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely. 

“Please, please look at me”. 

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina. 

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”. 

Virginia rolled her eyes. 

“The only one that dense here is you”. 

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”. 

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline. 

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet. 

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger. 

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience. 

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted. 

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled. 

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands. 

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look. 

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

-------------------------

The room was quiet. 

No. 

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather. 

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great. 

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple. 

Patton could not ignore it. 

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her. 

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off. 

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.  

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

-------------------------

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes. 

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands. 

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot. 

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress. 

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned. 

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down. 

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”. 

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape. 

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword. 

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard. 

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble. 

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”. 

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?” 

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help. 

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?” 

The maid squinted at him. 

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed. 

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell. 

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”. 

Both women caught their breaths. 

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”. 

“What is it that you want?” 

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--” 

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”. 

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!” 

Oh, fuck. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck. 

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

-------------------------

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard. 

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over. 

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention. 

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it. 

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out. 

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone. 

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together. 

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards. 

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no. 

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck. 

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

-------------------------

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do. 

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment. 

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said. 

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord. 

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea. 

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop. 

That was it. 

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece. 

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”. 

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half. 

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below. 

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”. 

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say. 

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away. 

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?” 

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground. 

“I would die for her, any day”. 

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!” 

“It is a promise”. 

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare. 

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years. 

Something didn’t fit. 

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards. 

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully. 

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”. 

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword. 

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook. 

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned. 

She looked down and smirked. 

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg. 

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage. 

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.  

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand. 

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice. 

Romina laughed in between her teeth. 

“I may not, but I know one thing”. 

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”. 

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right. 

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

-------------------------

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs. 

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date. 

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

-------------------------

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!” 

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory. 

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move. 

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed. 

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw. 

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand. 

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--” 

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor. 

“Shit” the thief cursed. 

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand. 

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”. 

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”. 

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it. 

“As you wish”. 

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow. 

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest. 

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for. 

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought. 

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut. 

Virginia looked at him in terror. 

The thief looked at Virginia in panic. 

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head. 

“No!” Romina cried. 

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage. 

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside. 

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling. 

The thief’s boots staggered backwards. 

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor. 

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia. 

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases. 

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath. 

Romina looked upwards to stare at him. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment. 

“I--” 

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him. 

“Look at me!” the thief shouted. 

“Trying to protect your master, villain?” 

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say. 

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison. 

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”. 

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?” 

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever. 

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--” 

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”. 

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify. 

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?” 

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line. 

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered. 

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--” 

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.  

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.  

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath. 

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”. 

“What?” Romina answered. 

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him. 

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!” 

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted. 

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point! 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?” 

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”. 

“So what is your point? Oooooh!” 

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes. 

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”. 

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor. 

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him. 

“For forever, put the sword away”. 

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet. 

“You are one menace of a woman”. 

“Thank you”. 

“What is going on?!” 

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants. 

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally. 

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio. 

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”. 

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame. 

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured. 

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice. 

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”. 

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered. 

Janus did hear her and went on: 

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”. 

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

-------------------------

All eyes turned to Patton. 

“Actually…” 

For a moment, he doubted himself. 

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse. 

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart. 

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it. 

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”. 

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.  

-------------------------

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same. 

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window. 

 As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside. 

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly. 

“Here”. 

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked. 

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness. 

Patton laughed. 

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”. 

“I’ll remember to thank her”. 

“Please, be nice this time”. 

“You saw that?” 

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”. 

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten. 

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”. 

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I could have lost you today”. 

“You saved me again”. 

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”. 

“Oh, why would that be?” 

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”. 

“Call it good timing”. 

Patton smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well. 

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”. 

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”. 

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”. 

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”. 

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”. 

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack. 

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound. 

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”. 

“Thomas? You know the marquess?” 

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”. 

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed. 

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”. 

“Well, that’s rich”. 

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”. 

“That is… a lot”. 

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…” 

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close. 

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”. 

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”. 

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied. 

“I guess I am”. 

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”. 

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”. 

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?” 

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be. 

“You are so good”. 

Patton kissed him again. 

“Only when nobody’s looking”. 

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”. 

“You think you’re so funny”. 

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

-------------------------

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop . 

[tigerkirby215]

5e Zac, the Secret Weapon build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Christian Fell. Made for Riot Games.)

No one:

Literally no one:

@tigerkirby215​: “HEY FUCKERS WHO WANTS A ZAC BUILD?!”

Full disclosure: I watched Dorans and Dragon’s video for Zac and while it’s really well done (like really well done. I honestly suggest you watch it) I felt like it took a bit of an interesting direction. Ds&D and I have always had different ideas for our builds and I think with the release of Tasha’s there’s actually a lot of interesting new directions to take Zac in.

Also spoiler alert but this build is the most jank-ass fucking shit I have ever made but it strangely works really well? Like I literally sat on this build for two months debating if I should even post it. Also Zac’s a grappler, because of course he is.

GOALS

There's plenty of me to go around - Zac stretches and bounces and changes his shape more-or-less at will.

Why thanks; I do work out - Zac is one of those “hold you down for 10 seconds total in a teamfight” types of junglers.

I'm not as squishy as I look - Of course to be a big bundle of green goo we’ll need to be big. Like, really big.

RACE

END ME I’M MAKING A BUGBEAR! :D

Okay to be fair Bugbear hate is kinda overblown, especially by yours truly. You get +2 to Strength and a +1 to Dexterity as well as Darkvision and several other useful traits: you have a Powerful Build to carry more stuff, for one. You are also Sneaky and get proficiency with Stealth, which is nice because if you launch a Surprise Attack you can do an extra 2d6 damage.

But of course the main trait of a Bugbear is their Long-Limbed bodies. All your melee attacks have a 5 foot longer range, which is obviously important to make Stretching Strikes!

Custom Lineage: If you’re insistent on making a custom “goo creature” race with Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything rules here are my suggestions: make yourself Medium (yeah duh) and give yourself proficiency with the Athletics skill. Increase your Strength by 2 and take the Skilled Expert feat for Expertise in Athletics along with a +1 in Wisdom. You will have an uneven DEX score but I dunno just go for Athlete or something later in this build.

ABILITY SCORES

15; WISDOM - Braum isn’t the only champion who believes the heart is the strongest muscle, as if you’d read Zac’s lore he is actually quite a compassionate soul. Also we need Wisdom for our main ability.

14; CONSTITUTION - Zac is a tanky boy, so up the tankiness!

13; DEXTERITY - When you can stretch and squeeze like silly putty dexterity comes naturally. We need that dexterity to jump over walls, among other things.

12; STRENGTH - A lot of it is elastic strength, but if you’re going to throw Cho’gath into Shyvana you do also need upper body strength.

10; CHARISMA - He’s a nice guy when you get to know him, but Zac’s also a bunch of Zaun sewer goo.

8; INTELLIGENCE - Living in the sewers and then later being raised as a weapon means you don’t know any math, science, or history.

BACKGROUND

Zac did grow up in the streets, but the skills from the Urchin background don’t fit him well so we’ll be modifying it heavily. Take proficiency in Acrobatics to squash and stretch as well as Perception to keep those wards up. You can pick your choice of languages or tools because Zac kinda... doesn’t do much other than fight? I mean he’s literally called “the Secret Weapon” what do you want from me?

But your background feature of City Secrets is very useful for traveling the streets of Zaun, letting you find your way around alleys and jungle gank paths to travel through the city twice as fast as the average person! "Put some spring in your step."

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

Been awhile since we’ve visited the good ol’ Monk class eh? Well you can grab Athletics finally, as well as Insight to know if someone’s worth clobbering. You also get proficiency with an artisan’s tool or musical instrument, and I mean... Zac still doesn’t have much lore.

But how about some class features? Monks get Unarmored Defense equal to their Wisdom plus their Dexterity, for 14 AC total. Would medium armor be better? Yes, but you can’t wear armor if you want to use Martial Arts! Martial Arts gives you a variety of benefits: you can punch with DEX or STR, your punches are now a d4 (and will scale as you get levels), and if you punch with your Action you can punch with a Bonus Action after the fact!

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Second level Monks get Ki points to use for a variety of features: Flurry of Blows lets you attack twice with your Bonus Action instead of once, Patient Defense lets you dodge as a Bonus Action, and Step of the Wind lets you Dash or Disengage as a Bonus Action. An important thing to mention about Step of the Wind is that it doubles your jump distance, for those big Elastic Slingshot jumps!

You can also put on some boots and get some Unarmored Movement. 10 more feet to be exact!

I guess I’m also obliged to mention Dedicated Weapon from Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything which lets you turn any weapon you’re proficient in into a Monk weapon as long as it’s not Heavy or Special. This will be important later but it’s not exactly in-character for Zac.

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

Third level Monks get to choose their Monastic Tradition and Way of the Astral Self will give you some long stretchy limbs! As a bonus action you can spend 1 Ki to summon Arms of the Astral Self. When you do so, each creature of your choice that you can see within 10 feet of you must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take force damage equal to two rolls of your Martial Arts die due to your Unstable Matter.

Your arms will stay up for 10 minutes and give the following benefits:

You can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength modifier when making Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You can use the spectral arms to make unarmed strikes, which has the following benefits:

The reach of the arms is 5 feet greater than normal, which stacks with your Bugbear arms. 15 foot reach with extra stretchy arms!

The unarmed strikes you make with the arms can use your Wisdom modifier in place of your Strength or Dexterity modifier for the attack and damage rolls, and their damage type is force.

You can also absorb some blows with Deflect Missiles. When you are hit by a ranged weapon attack you can use your reaction to reduce the damage by 1d10 + your DEX mod + your monk level. If you reduce the damage to 0, you can catch the missile. You can then spend 1 ki point to throw it back as part of the same reaction. You make this attack with proficiency, regardless of your weapon proficiencies, and the missile counts as a monk weapon for the attack, which has a normal range of 20 feet and a long range of 60 feet.

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everyone also gave Monks the Ki-Fueled Attack ability which pretty much doesn’t impact you in the slightest.

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

4th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement but we’re instead going to grab the Skilled Expert feat. You can increase your Wisdom by 1 and grab proficiency in Survival for optimal jungle clear. But what we’re mainly here for is to make our hands extra sticky with expertise in Athletics! Is the build starting to make sense now?

You can also land safely after an Elastic Slingshot jump thanks to Slow Fall, reducing fall damage by 5 times your Monk level. If you want to keep yourself in the fight then Quickened Healing (also from TCoE, because that book really likes giving new Monk features) will let you take advantage of Cell Division for 2 Ki points, healing you for a number rolled on your Martial Arts die plus your Proficiency bonus. It’s not much but in a pinch it might save you!

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks get an Extra Attack, so you can punch twice with your action, and then punch some more with your Bonus Action! You can also bring some heavy CC into the party with Stunning Strike; if you hit an enemy in melee you can force a Constitution save or stun them! Yes actual honest-to-god League of Legends stun!

Oh and because Tasha’s Cauldron really wanted to buff the Monk you get Focused Aim, letting you use up to 3 Ki points to increase your roll to hit, at a 2:1 ratio. (1 Ki point = +2 to hit)

(Artwork by SemLimit on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 6 - BARBARIAN 1

Jumping over to Barbarian, land of the true tanks. Barbarians get Unarmored Defense based on Constitution that we won’t be using but I’m obliged to mention anyways. Of course what we’re here for is Rage which will augment you in a number of ways: you’ll resist Bludgeoning, Piercing, and Slashing damage and will do more damage with Strength-based attacks (which you probably won’t be making.) But the most important feature is this line right here:

You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.

You know what’s a Strength check? Athletics! So even if you use Wisdom for it you’ll still have Advantage on top of Expertise! And Athletics is used for grappling! At least that’s how I’d rule it, but talk to your DM just to make sure they’ll let this dopey shit into their game.

LEVEL 7 - BARBARIAN 2

Second level Barbarians can let themselves go with Reckless Attack. Your Unstable Matter will give you advantage on your attack at the cost of giving enemies advantage to hit you.

You also get Danger Sense for advantage on Dexterity saves against effects you can see coming. Is a Jinx rocket heading your way? Slingshot out of there!

LEVEL 8 - BARBARIAN 3

Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything gave Barbarians Primal Knowledge for a free skill proficiency from the Barbarian list, so take Intimidation I guess because you are a huge freaky slime guy.

Third level Barbarians get to choose their Primal Path and guess what? It’s Totem Warrior time! As a Spirit Seeker you can cast Speak With Animals and Beast Sense as a Ritual but we all know that’s not what we’re here for. What we’re really here for is the Totem Spirit of the Bear. You can now resist all damage while Raging, with the exception of Psychic damage. Hey there has to be %health damage to deal with tanks after all. (Now if only they’d nerf Grievous Wounds.)

LEVEL 9 - MONK 6

This will be our last Monk level; sad I know. But it’s worth it for the Visage of the Astral Self. You can use a Bonus Action and a Ki point to summon the visage. (And can do it while summoning your arms.) While the spectral visage is present, you gain several benefits:

Astral Sight lets you see through magical (and nonmagical) darkness up to 120 feet.

Wisdom of the Spirit gives you advantage on Wisdom (Insight) and Charisma (Intimidation) checks.

And Word of the Spirit lets you either whisper in team chat to a creature of your choice that you can see within 60 feet of you, or shout in all chat so that everyone within 600 feet can hear you.

Your regular fists are also considered magical thanks to Ki-Empowered Strikes, and you get 5 more feet of Unarmored Movement! "Woohoo!"

(Artwork by Dragonflamebg on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 10 - FIGHTER 1

Teamfight time? Team Fighter time! First level Fighters get a Fighting Style and since you’re punching people your only real option is Superior Technique, giving you a d6 Combat Superiority die to use on a Battle Master Manuever. That Manuever shall be Grappling Strike, letting you grapple as a Bonus Action after punching someone for some Stretching Strikes!

You can also heal with Cell Division assuming the enemy team doesn’t stack Grievous Wounds thanks to Second Wind; it’s a d10 plus your Fighter level. "Keep it together."

LEVEL 11 - FIGHTER 2

Second level Fighters get Action Surge for even more punching! This will be more important in like, two levels.

LEVEL 12 - FIGHTER 3

Third level Fighters get to choose their Martial Archetype and for some crowd control in a teamfight Battle Master is a great choice. You are a Student of War which means more tool proficiencies which make no sense because Zac has no lore woo! But of course what we’re mainly here for is Combat Superiority: you have four d8 Superiority Die (plus a d6 one from your Fighting Style) which you can use on a variety of Maneuvers:

Trip Attack is good if you want to bounce, forcing the target you hit to make a Strength save or fall over!

Distracting Strike is like stunning the target in the sense that it gives your allies an opening, but unlike Trip Attack you don’t have to force a saving throw. (Instead Distracting Strike just works after you hit them!)

And if you think your arms aren’t stretchy enough already? Boom; Lunging Attack for 20 foot reach!

LEVEL 13 - FIGHTER 4

4th level Fighters get an Ability Score Improvement: hey it’s everyone’s favorite feat Grappler! You have advantage on attacks against enemies you grappled, and if you’re grappling someone you can then pin them to hold them in place!

Now pinning someone you’ve grappled does take an action but here’s where Action Surge comes in: turn 1? Grab them. Turn 2? Pin them! Easy!

LEVEL 14 - FIGHTER 5

5th level Fighters get an Extra Attack... which you already have. "I hate it when this happens."

LEVEL 15 - FIGHTER 6

Hey more Ability Score Improvements! Want all the fun of a high Constitution score without the Constitution? Look no further than the Tough feat: it gives you +2 HP per level for some big gains!

(Artwork by GisAlmeida on DeviantArt.)

LEVEL 16 - FIGHTER 7

7th level Fighters get to Know Your Enemy: by spending a minute studying someone (IE looking at the scoreboard) you can learn if an enemy is superior, inferior, or equal to you in a number of areas described by the ability.

You also get one more Combat Superiority die and learn two more Maneuvers: Goading Attack will make it harder for enemies to hit your friends (and it works against Tier 4 enemies who likely resist fears), and Disarming Attack will let you stick your hand to your opponent’s weapon to make them drop it!

LEVEL 17 - FIGHTER 8

8th level means more ASIs and I’m starting to think ignoring all your stats was a bad idea. More Wisdom means better punches, better grabs, and better AC.

LEVEL 18 - FIGHTER 9

9th level Fighters get Indomitable, letting them reroll a failed saving throw once per Long Rest. Regardless of what you roll on the new die however you have to use the new result. This can be used on Death saves to try to keep alive a little longer thanks to Cell Division.

LEVEL 19 - FIGHTER 10

10th level Battle Masters get Improved Combat Superiority. Your superiority die are d10s now; even the one from your Fighting Style! You do also learn more Maneuvers but honestly? We got just about everything that we need already. If you’ve hit level 19 playing Zac League of Legends then you deserve to make some choices of your own.

LEVEL 20 - FIGHTER 11

Our final level is the 11th level of Fighter for an Extra Attack that does stack! That means you have 3 attacks total and one extra from Martial Arts!

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Beat up, or beat down? I'm flexible - No matter how you look at it 4 attacks per round is great, especially since you can give yourself Advantage and boost your damage output with Battle Master Maneuvers.

Pick on someone your own size - If everything goes well you should have a solid 200 health by level 20! Definitely nothing to sneeze at, especially with Rage giving you resistance to almost everything and Second Wind letting you heal yourself!

This is gonna get messy - You’ve got a +16 to Athletics checks for Grappling when using your Astral Arms, and can give yourself Advantage or add Superiority die to your Grapple checks. Do I need to explain that that’s really good?

CONS

Don't push your luck, champ - None of your stats are maxed out, and that’s bad. Your hit modifier isn’t great, your Battle Master saving throw is low, but most importantly your AC is really bad. Big health is nice but not being hit is also very helpful. Just saying if you have the chance to go for Point Buy I’d take it.

I never skip breakfast - A small pool of Ki combined with limited Maneuver die means that you’re running on some very potent fumes. Frequent short rests will be needed to make the most out of this build.

These jerks don't know when to quit! - Grappling builds have the ever-constant problem of falling off in the late game when most foes simply can’t be grabbed. This build honestly peaks around level 13 and just falls off from there. This is definitely one of my builds that I think works better in a low level campaign.

But if you want something unique that works well early here’s your build! Big reach to hold everyone in place so your party can beat them up. Playing the CC tank might not be that glorious but it’s a job someone’s gotta do. And remember: "It's not how much you can lift. It's how good you look!"

(Artist unknown. Made for Riot Games.)