#but prinny asked me to so i said sure

[lovmura]

i have been drawing my ocs as chibis

💗 | comms | twitter | twitch  | youtube | kofi

[nat1vibes]

@manygalaxiesinone thank you for asking me this and i shall use the same template as you for ease. (might have missed some)

(inspired from this post)

Disgaea Generic Classes/monsters i'd hang out with!

Warrior: NEATHER YEAH! just coz im biased and couldn't say no. he could help me get into the mindset of working out! and... maybe get me one of them deals with the god of combat

Valkyre: Probably-maybe not. If she is as tsundereish as she seems then it would be a maybe not. But she is still kinda just a dorklike M warrior, so prob yeah!

Martial Artist: wouldn't hang out more than just maybe sparing with them to learn from them, or tea together.

Fight Mistress: yeah! but they seem a bit too high energy for me

Magician: Neather Yeah! we would be nerding out so much! and i'd love to see how magic is studied, even if i couldn't do it

Witch:...the gothic lolita is stronger than my ablity to see red flags. So yes i would. Maybe i'd just be her goofer but its fine

Clergy: yea. lil cute booger. He don't got anything wrong

Cleric: yeah! they are prety calm. maybe though i wouldn't find that much in common with us

Ninja: maybe. He seems cool. but like. trained assassin? can they have fun? would they not kill me?

Kunoichi: same as ninja

Samurai Male/Female: Loyal! pretty calm most of the time. Good friends to have around

Ranger/Strider: Cool guy, we could vibe

Archer: Not sure. she seems nice. But i might find them annoying after a while. Probably my fualt

Magic Knight: Sure! she is just great! i can't imagine they would like me much though.

Thief Male/Female: i'd maybe do some panks with them and that's it. I don't wanna stay close enough to be a target

Angel Male/Female: Hate them.

Gunner: Wild west nerd, we could vibe

Gunslinger: Smh Merchant from Phantom brave just dressed difrently. i dont trust her

Armor knight Male/Female: Yes! i will feel so at ease when being around them!

Beastmaster: Greaat gal. I'd love to hang out with the more dangerous monsters through her

Sorcerer: Ok ok, curses, voodoo. But she so cute tho! I'll overlook my lower lifespan

Masked Hero: Nah, posers

Professor: sure? but it's an other one of those that i don't thing we will hae much t otalk about. If she tries to teach me math i'll pocket sand her and run away

Psychic: she looks like a Chuunibyu. We vibing

Mecha Girl: Maybe? but idk

Sinner: i'd be afraid , they pretty scary

Prinny: i'd feed them like. 2 sardines PER DAY. With the profits i make from thier labour, i'd contiue to amass a following and be treated as prinny Jesus. Valvatorez will have t ofind me and try to change my ways.

Cheerleader: dont know alot about her. But id be worried where to look and be uncomfortable

Android: Nah. ill save my life to kill it with an other calss that would hate me

Necromancer: yes. Again lolita fashion wins

Medic: sure! I'd even go as far as trying out on flied medic assistant

Maid: HELL YEAH! Nat1vibes loredrop. Monstergirls are one of my weaknesses. And maid. Are an other one

Wrestler: Not alot. But i'd for sure let him coach me. work out together. he could lift me and my spirits!

Pirate: nah. Posh dudes

Dark Knight: YES. yeah yeah emo. But they are my chuunin babies. I'd play pretend with them

Sage: yeah! Give me multy attack!

Geomaster: nah. Hated those Old farts. Disgaea 2 item world was made a pain

Majin:Maybe? maybe not...depends if they seem me as like, a lowly human they might develop feelings like those of a pet rat. Or just kill me.

Bouncer:My own body guard!

Onmyo monk: Uptight smucks that think they are better than everyone? I'll slug him one! and die... coz they are high ranking

EDF soldier/Battle shuit:Literlly just human dudes. Depends on the guy

Kurtis bot:Maybe? probably not

Asagi(d5):Only if i could somehow make them belive, i am the true Asagi of an other dimention. That came here to find the TRUE asagi

Spirit: yeah...Kinda, they look lonely

Undead: nah. Zombos. Bleh. ''But nat1, you said yes to the mai-'' ''I'll slug you one''

Dragon: If they don't see me as a threat or food. Sure. Big guys. Seem to give nice hugs. Also... a point i missed. MAGICHANGE D2 SPEAR! D4 SWORD!

wooden Golem: Yee. nice tree bros

Lanturn: they look kinda scary. But they chill we vibing

Living Armor/Horseman: I wouldn't mind. But they probably won't find any value in me.

Felynn: Yeah! cat ladies! just hope they don't break me accidentally

Succubus: nah. Hang out? Well... Maybe. NO, they just out for my soul.

Gargoyles: i wouldn't mind one guarding my house

Nether Noble: maybe? Not like Sherafinas dad. But they aren't that bad. I remmember that lil oiky boy in d1

Orc: Only if they don't think they can mess with me. lil fart boys

Winged Warrior/If you mean mothman: Nah. I'd fall assleep to easely. not good for the slumber party

Flora Beast: yeah. I don't see how it could go bad

Roc: nah. Sorry. too smelly a breath

Rifle Demon: maybe if i could win their faivour with alcohol

Nosferatu:vampire dudes? nah. they would kill me

Feary: lil fae boys. Sure. adorable!

Sludge: nah. Slime

Shroom: nah. Again i dont wanna fall asleep when disgaea ppl are REAL!

Mythical Beast: Yeah! doggo!

Slumber Cat/Deathsabbers: i mean. They are just cats. Sure

Reaper: Well. they don't look only like they usually do. As we saw from Emizels dad. But still. They would probably kill me

Evil Eye: what even is this

Holy Dragon: Nah. too uptight about their pride

Imp: nah. lil shits

Fairy: Sure. lil guys

Rabbits: yeah!!! peaceful demons! yeee

Bear: YEEE big hugs! WAIT THAT A MOUTH in thier belly

Nine-tails: I mean... kitsune ladies

Twin Dragon: Again as with the dragon. MAGICHANGE SWORD

Zombie dragon: Yeah. looks evil. Probably is. But... they look so lonely and also kinda like. Friendable

[theshatteredrose]

Nugatory: The Secret War (Chapter 34) - Disgaea 5 Fanfiction

AN: Slightly late update today. Fibromyalgia flare-ups is to blame. But I still managed to update on the weekend, so that’s something! Anyway, hope you enjoy reading~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FFNet

-

Chapter 34:

It was with Killia’s assistance that Samuel made his way through the portal and back to the Pocket Netherworld. Finding himself in the all too familiar environment was immediately comforting.

For a time, as he laid captive in that tent at the Lost Encampment, he thought he would never see the Pocket Netherworld again.

The main bridge was surprisingly crowded with Prinnies, with other Rebels, and with Panchos. They all stopped what they were doing to turn to look at them, and as Samuel look back at them in turn, he promptly realised that the faces of the Rebels were all those he had helped himself recently.

They all felt the need to repay him.

“Everyone, thank you for your help,” Samuel said, truly sincere in his gratitude.

“How are you feeling?” Panchos was the one to ask.

Samuel subconsciously pressed his hand against his side, hoping to hide the blood stains through the white bandages. “Other than the old injuries being agitated, I got away relatively unscathed.”

That reassured the crowd and there was a notable sigh of relief. An abrupt silence fell over everyone, however, when Seraphina appeared. She appeared stoic, her expression completely unreadable as she stood before them.

“I wish to talk to Samuel,” she said simply.

Samuel looked at Seraphina for a moment before he nodded his head. It was a conversation that could not be delayed. He turned his head to his right, toward Killia, and placed a hand on his arm. “It’s alright. It’ll only take a moment.”

Killia looked subtly reluctant, but nodded his head regardless. “Alright, but not too long. We need to have someone to look at your injuries.”

“I know, I know,” Samuel returned.

It took more energy than he would like to admit to pry himself from Killia’s arms to follow Seraphina down the steps from the main bridge and somewhere they could speak in private. Eventually, they found a quiet corner of the Pocket Netherworld and Seraphina paused in her steps. She kept her back toward him, silently taking a moment to consider her words.

Finally, Seraphina turned to face him and drew in a deep breath. “This is not an easy for me to say, but…I must apologise.”

That absolutely killed her to say, but he was not going to comment on that.

“I see,” Samuel murmured. “So, your maids, they did it for you. Why?”

“They did it because you were coming between Sir Killia and I.”

That was one of the reasons the maids have given him before, so he was not surprised by the response.

“So, they got rid of the competition.” One hell of a way to do it. “And that wasn’t your suggestion?”

Seraphina scowled at him. “Of course, it wasn’t.”

Samuel stared at her with narrow eyes.

Seraphina’s scowl dissipated into an expression of guilt. “I-I may have mentioned in in jest, but I was merely joking. If I had wanted to get rid of you, I would have done it far sooner. And if a different manner.”

He supposed that was true. And he was certain that she had plenty of ideas floating around in that head of hers.

“I figured as much,” Samuel said. He shook his head, however, unable to stop himself from scowling. “This was too much. Handing me over to Void was a sure-fire way to devastate Killia.”

“I could never do anything that would actually hurt Sir Killia,” Seraphina quickly exclaimed.

Samuel nodded. “I know.”

Still, that did not explain why they seemed so…chummy with the Lost Soldiers when they handed him over to them. They obviously had been communicating with them long before they got to him.

“…There is another reason,” Seraphina admitted.

“Oh?”

“They did it for the award money.”

Samuel must admit he was not expecting that. “The money? Surely, three-hundred-million HL would be pocket change for someone like you.”

Seraphina did not respond, simply closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath, as if attempting to find peace within herself.

“Gorgeous is the richest Netherworld in the Netherverse, right?”

“Not anymore.”

Samuel blinked. “What? What happened?”

“My father spent all of our money on fortifying Gorgeous’ security and defences.” Seraphina suddenly looked jovial, almost delusional. “I’m completely broke.”

“What?”

Seraphina pouted as she planted her hands on her hips. “I won’t repeat myself. Unfortunately, it’s true. However, the one consolation is that I have integrated my Pocket Netherworld with Gorgeous, making a powerful weapon and craft that will take us directly to Void Dark’s fortress.”

“Is that so? So, that’s what Killia meant that the Pocket Netherworld has been incorporated into Gorgeous.” He hadn’t noticed a changed, honestly.

Void’s fortress…

That…was a good thing, he supposed. They were one step closer to ending this brutal war. He hoped they were ready. Samuel better hurry up and heal so that his Overload Skill would be at its most advantageous for everyone.

As much as Seraphina infuriated him, they truly would be lost without her resources. He supposed he should show some gratitude. But in a way that she would not take advantage of or won’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Hmm…

“…You know,” Samuel began, “if you need money, I hear that a certain owner of a certain magazine has collected quite the fortune, though has hidden it. If you manage to find that fortune, and take over that certain magazine, I’m sure you can recoup your loses rather quickly.”

Seraphina stared at him openly for a moment before she cracked a bit of a smile. “Why, Samuel, that’s positively demonic.”

“Only by half,” Samuel joked in response.

Seraphina laughed but quickly caught herself, flushing a like pink. “Th-this doesn’t make us comrades or anything.”

Samuel nodded. “Absolutely not. We’re still disdainful rivals.”

“As the way things should be.” Seraphina placed her hands on her hips as a scowl suddenly made it’s way upon her features. “Now, if you excuse me, I must deal with a certain little group of underlings.”

She then turned on her heel and stalked away, not bothering to wait for a response from Samuel. Not that he had anything else to say to her. He still had a lot of questions, true, but he was also tired and a tad sore. He kinda just wanted to get his bandages changed so he could take a nap or something.

He was sure that Seraphina was more than efficient at disciplining her own servants.

As he turned around to make his way back to the main bridge, the sight of Killia with Christo approaching made him pause. Instead waiting for the two to reach him.

“Is everything all right?” Killia immediately asked.

Samuel nodded. “Yeah, it’s been worked out. Seraphina is going to take care of her maids responsible. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Alright,” Killia said. “Red Magnus explained to us what had happened. It’s safe to say that Seraphina is not happy.”

No, she definitely was not.

“It’s good that it’s all sorted,” Christo said before he narrowed his eyes in Samuel’s direction. “Now, let me see those injuries of yours.”

With the hospital close by, Samuel dutifully nodded his head and followed Christo into a ward. He promptly slipped his vest from his shoulders and sat down on the edge of the bed. He aided Christo in peeling off the bandages, noting in mild alarm the red stains on the white dressings.

An exasperated sigh from Christo indicated to Samuel that he was not pleased.

“Ah, reopened?”

“Indeed,” Christo muttered. “This will take a moment.”

Samuel dutifully sat still as Christo used several healing spells and after a few minutes, wound a fresh set of bandages around his stomach and torso. The dressings were restricting, but he must admit that he felt better with them on.

“Alright, done,” Christo announced. “This time, I recommend the security of your room.”

That sounded good to Samuel, too.

… … … … …

Samuel found himself startled from a dreamless sleep, though he did not immediately know what or why pulled him into consciousness. He lifted his head up off of his pillow and peered drowsily through the darkness of his room. His gaze soon flickered toward a figure standing by his bed and he unconsciously winced.

“Easy, it’s just me,” a familiar voice soothed.

“Killia?” Samuel murmured, still drowsy, but conscious enough to sense that something was troubling the other man. “Are you all right?”

“I’m all right,” Killia immediately answered. “I was just checking in on you.”

Samuel’s vision gradually began to clear and he sat up in bed. Instead of attempting to reassure Killia, he looked up at him with a sense of guilt. “I’m sorry. I scared you again today, didn’t I?”

Killia became silent as he looked into his eyes, his own honey golden eyes conveying several conflicting emotions. Several of which Samuel could not quite put his finger on. Yet, it became crystal clear when Killia’s shoulders sagged forward and he held out his hand in front of him.

“…You could have been lost. Again. All because…”

Samuel silently slipped out of bed and to his feet. In one fluent motion, he stepped toward Killia and raised his arms, wrapping them around his neck. “…I know,” he murmured as he pressed his body against his, hoping that their physical closeness would offer the other some comfort.

Killia responded just as quickly; one arm around his waist as his entangled his fingers of his other through Samuel’s hair.

“I know,” Samuel said again, nuzzling his cheek against Killia’s shoulder. “That wasn’t your fault.”

It was his. Probably. He could have handled that differently if he had known it was just petty jealousy that fuelled those maids, and not maliciousness against the Rebel Army. At the time he did not know that. How could he? He could not take the chance that they were traitors. They certainly were more than happy to work with the Lost and to hand him over to them.

But…jealousy. Petty jealousy.

That was what fuelled Killia’s and Void’s so-called rivalry, wasn’t it? Void being jealous of Killia? With Killia being chosen by Goldion to inherit the Ultimate Demon Fist Technique and with Lieze choosing to spend time with him over her own twin brother.

Jealousy. Killia had already lost so much to the jealousy of another.

Samuel promised himself that he would never let his own jealousy ever hurt Killia.

If Killia loved another…he would be content with loving him from afar.

He had to be.

… … … … …

Samuel sat in a highbacked chair on the main bridge, negated there due to his injuries. Healing was what he needed to do, above all else.

They were planning on storming Void’s fortress soon. But Samuel was worried. Naraka was still out there, somewhere. His arm may have been severely broken, but his tongue was as sharp and vile as his blade.

He needed to be dealt with, too.

That was why he took to the main bridge without complaint, and promptly sat himself down in front of the reports monitor, hoping to figure out a possible location of where Naraka could be hiding.

“I’m not talking to you, plip.”

A rather cross sounding Usalia pulled Samuel from his work. He lifted his head up and pivoted his chair to look down from the bridge to the communal area before the water fountain. Where Usalia and Seraphina stood, and appeared to be…arguing?

“C-come now, I was simply joking,” Seraphina insisted.

“I don’t believe you, plip.”

That angry stubbornness. That was very uncharacteristic of Usalia.

“What’s going on?” Samuel asked, his attention directly toward Christo who stood before the maps and atlases. “I thought we’ve established that Seraphina wasn’t to blame for what happened.”

Christo looked over at him, completely unbothered. “Oh, something occurred on Gorgeous, you could say. And Usalia isn’t very happy with Seraphina.”

Samuel blinked before he narrowed his eyes slightly, suspicion creeping in. “…Does it have something to do with Killia?”

“You could say that.”

“Breaking up Killia and Samuel, will be like breaking up my parents!” Usalia exclaimed loudly and suddenly. “And I won’t allow that, plip!”

A silence seemed to fall over the entirety of the Pocket Netherworld.

…Pardon? Did she just-?

“D-don’t be difficult, child,” Seraphina scolded in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. “Wouldn’t Sir Killia and I make better parents for you?”

Usalia folded her arms angerly across her chest, stuck her nose in the air, and turned her back on Seraphina. “Nope. I’ve made up my mind, plip.”

He…remembered Usalia saying something like that before. How she found comfort being with both Samuel and Killia. Watching the two of them reminded her of her parents.

Samuel pushed up from his chair and walked down the stairs. “Usalia, can you give me a hand with something? I want to make curry for everyone who helped me the other day as a thank you for all their help.”

Usalia immediately whirled around and nodded her head. “Of course, plip.”

Samuel smiled at Usalia and the two of them turned in the direction of the much beloved curry kitchen. As they walked, however, Samuel could not help but look over his shoulder, toward Seraphina. And he stuck his tongue out at her, leaving her bristling wildly behind them.

Petty? Maybe. Just a bit of revenge.

The kitchen was empty, leaving just the two of them to cook whatever they pleased. And it gave Samuel the privacy needed to speak with Usalia. To get some information on what happened on Gorgeous as Killia seemed reluctant to talk about it.

In fact, all he would say to him was “we’ll talk about after you’ve healed”.

And after what he had overheard just moments ago, he was incredibly suspicious.

“Usalia, I noticed that you haven’t been very happy with Seraphina lately,” Samuel began. “Is something wrong? Did something happen on Gorgeous?”

Usalia stood upon a stool as she began to chop up some carrots. “Seraphina tried to pretend that she and Killia were engaged, plip.”

“…What?”

“Uh huh.” She carried on, undaunted. “Then, then her father was about to betray us to Void, but Seraphina was about to disobey him, but only if Killia married her. Of course, she was joking, but was she really, plip?”

“M-marry…?” Samuel spluttered, a strange heated feeling of anger mixed with jealousy and protectiveness rushing through him. He glanced up from Usalia and over the kitchenette, immediately catching sight of a certain demon.

He slammed his hands atop of the counter, barely even disturbing Usalia, and leaned across the kitchenette. “Killia! Get over here!”

Killia snapped his head up, beyond startled, and immediately looked over in his direction. Eyes wide in confused. “Wh-what?” he spluttered.

“There was one specific thing I told you not to do when you went to Gorgeous,” Samuel practically seethed.

Killia blinked. He sighed, deadpanned as he wandered toward the kitchenette. “Y-yes, and I didn’t.”

Samuel stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes. He then huffed and grabbed a knife, angrily chopping at some vegetables. “The sheer audacity of that woman. When were you going to tell me?”

Killia rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I was going to mention it when we got back, but then this thing of the maids happened, and I knew you two weren’t on the best terms…”

“Honestly,” Samuel pouted. “I’d preferred if you were handed over to Void. At least I know I could get you back from Void.”

“Samuel, Seraphina’s not that bad…”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well, I didn’t say that…”

Usalia suddenly grabbed her ears and dragged them over her eyes and face and broke out into an intense giggle fit. “You’re just like them, plip…”

[tenshiwhip-blog]

@prinnysitter​ (totally) liked for a starter

For Valvatorez and Artina, Spirale was still full of strange and new discoveries. That’s why, from time to time, they took their time together to check out some new places. Sure, the goal was to get to know more about their current situation, and eventually also looking for a way to come back home. But the angel couldn’t deny, that she really enjoyed the time they spent together while doing so...

Back in the Netherworld, both were always so busy with their duties after all... Him as a prinny instructor, and she with her collecting mission... It wasn’t like they have given up on those things, but while they were stuck here, they also had much more free time as a logical result. 

Today, they somehow ended up in weird show. Before Artina really knew, there was already a big crowd building up around them. “W-what is happening?” She never saw a live show before, besides the one from Axel, but that one didn’t count really, did it now...? Speaking of the devil though, the punk band that made their debut on stage now, reminded her a lot of him... If Valvatorez did think the same thing as her about them?

Just when she wanted to ask him that, the lead singer threw some kind of glitter bomb in front of the crowd. Probably for some ‘cool’ effects or something. However, Artina already thought that this was a rather dangerous act, doing that while being so close to a big human crowd wasn’t really safe! But maybe she jinxed herself with that thought, because some of that nasty stuff did get into her eyes right after. Her first instinct said to rub it out, but that sadly didn’t do anything... 

“Mr. Vampire, are you okay? I think that weird thing from before got into my eyes...” She literally couldn’t open them, it was sticky and it hurt. Unfortunately, she also used up her here available healing magic up for the people in need earlier today, so it wasn’t like she could just cast it better. “I’m sorry, but could you maybe lead me to some water? I need to wash this out immediately, but I can’t get through this huge crowd like this...” A little helplessly she fumbled around. It wasn’t like her to depend on anyone’s help... But this time she really was glad, that she wasn’t on her own with this situation. 

[noelclover]

Off The Cuff 07/05/2019

Read a gaming article, want to post about it: It’s about game journalists. So I guess...

Ranty.

As per usual I copy pasta paragraphs and argue against them by typing them out in an attempt to rid myself of the headaches. Moving past the Event Hubs bit:

> EventHubs is just the latest battleground for a much larger and divisive issue: Who gets to be a games journalist? Some players believe the industry’s reporters should be particularly competent (if not masterful) at practically every game they cover. They must be a gamer among gamers, one that lives, breathes, and devours gaming 24 hours a day.

🍀 Not quite true. Particularly competent implies that you have to be good at the game, which isn’t what most gamers expect out of games journalists when they review a game. What is expected is some level of competency that can be considered somewhat “average”. If you play “Prinny Can I Really Be The Hero Dude?” and die 999 times, unable to finish the game and then tell me it’s a really hard game because the fights are a pain in the ass and you couldn’t move your thumb anymore from the button mash, hey, I get you buddy. It’s fine. If you play a shooter but you can’t, say, move and shoot, or move the camera and shoot and then tell me it’s really hard while on the easiest setting, I’m gonna have to doubt you hard. If you pull a Dean Takahashi on me... Well, yeah. Most people don’t expect games journalists to be a “gamers among gamers”, or MLG 1080 no scope gods. But then again, I guess that’s why the term “some players” is used at the start. So if even, say, a miniscule 0.1% of gamers do think like that, they wouldn’t be lying.

> Esports reporter Sabriel Mastin regularly covers Blizzard Entertainment’s first-person shooter Overwatch for Overbuff’s blog. She was surprised by EventHubs’ requirement, in part because she believes there’s a fundamental difference between analyzing a game as a journalist and demonstrating technical skills as a player. “For example, I cover Overwatch from general news to the highest levels of the game with the Overwatch League,” she told the Daily Dot. “I understand it at a very high level, but I’m in the middle of the competitive ladder. […] That doesn’t mean I don’t understand high-level plays and strategies of what the pro players are doing.”

🍀 She’s absolutely right. There’s a difference however in being an analyst and a game reviewer. Look at sports for example. We don’t expect sports journalists to be able to compete with whatever football team is up there right now but we most certainly expect them to be able to tell us what’s going on if we ever get confused. Same with cars. I wouldn’t trust Top Gear to cover a car if they can’t drive and base everything off whatever the specs of the car are. There’s a fundamental difference in watching and doing.

Also middle of the competitive ladder is probably pretty damn good. Or at least a really good indicator that she knows her mechanics really well.

> This is exactly what happened to GamesBeat’s Dean Takahashi. 🍀  Ah, shit. Here we go again.

> In the games industry, Takahashi regularly breaks stories and approaches controversial news with a level head. If you’re a games journalist, he’s a role model for your own career. But if you’re just a regular gamer who doesn’t track the industry’s most important writers, you probably know Takahashi for his abysmal Cuphead gameplay. In a viral video, Takahashi struggles to clear Cuphead’s easiest part by far: its tutorial. One scene shows him unable to clear a tall pillar for over a full minute, despite the fact the game walks the player through how to pass the obstacle. Without context, the video implies Takahashi is a clueless writer who barely knows how to use a controller.

🍀 I don’t know about “most important writers” or being a role model. But then again, I’m a “regular gamer who doesn’t track the industry’s most important writers”. I’m a regular gamer who looks at the end product being marketed to the audience: the articles.

Even with context, he was absolutely horrible at it. So much so that I think there’s going to forever be some doubt about his abilities to actually assess games for consumption. I remember reading that it allegedly wasn’t the first time he did it either. I think it was an RPG or something, but he didn’t realize that there was a menu button and that he could increase his stats or something, making the game easier. Not sure how true that is, but Cuphead most certainly didn’t help his reputation.

> But an explanatory post written by Takahashi paints a different picture. While previewing the game during Germany’s Gamescom trade fair, he “was messing around at first” and “wasn’t focused and serious until I had warmed up,” which means he easily missed clues telling the player how to complete the tutorial. This makes a lot of sense if you’ve ever been to a gaming convention as a member of the press. With so many games to preview, interviews to conduct, and time-sensitive stories to write, it’s impossible to give a game the same undivided attention as you would at home.

🍀 You don’t mess around for a whole minute at a tutorial segment, being a complete idiot who can’t Jump And Dash. It takes a child maybe 30 seconds. Sure, we can miss things in games, but it was pretty spelled out. The camera even gave you all the clues you needed the moment you got into the pit.

You can’t tell me you need to give Cuphead’s tutorial your complete undivided attention. It’s fine that he messed up in the stage itself, I mean, platformers aren’t really everybody’s thing, although the way he played it looked like he was playing platformers for the first time, but a tutorial like that does not require your complete, undivided attention. It requires a bit of it, but not so much that you enter The Zone trying to bloody Jump And Dash.

> Nearly two years later, the controversy echoes a point Mastin made about the EventHubs job listing: In a world with Gamergate, “skill” is used to gatekeep marginalized players and determine who is (or isn’t) a real gamer.

🍀 Except it’s not used to  “ gatekeep marginalized players and determine who is or isn’t a “real gamer”. “Skill” is a mostly arbitary measure people have always had to determine if someone is competing in your bracket, or in the case of games journalists, determine if they know what the hell they’re actually talking about.

I’ve seen people criticize Monster Hunter for not being Devil May Cry. They really didn’t know what the game was about.

You can criticize a game for being clunky, the classic Resident Evil games were pretty darn clunky for example, you can say that their controls didn’t make any sense. You can criticize a game’s gameplay for not feeling rewarding, but to be able to tell, you’d have to be able to play the game, which means having some measure of skill to get through the game in the first place.

In a skill based activity, skill is to some degree linked to understanding. Games like Monster Hunter and Dark Souls work like that. The better understanding you have of your tools (iframes, armour, move set), the better your understanding of game mechanics, the thing you interact with to get through the game.

> “It can certainly feel that the conversation is coming from right-leaning people, especially after being around during [the Gamergate] era,” Mastin said. “The ‘discussion’ has the vestige of that time when we’d hear, ‘Game journalists need to be objective, taking out any emotion from the game.’ I don’t remember the discussion about being ‘good’ popping up before that time.”

🍀 And here it is, one of the myriad things I really, really dislike because it feels dishonest. Do you see it?

“right-leaning people”

I really dislike this because it’s often times done as a smear. What’s that? You don’t care about politics and found Anita Sarkeesian’s video questionable? You must be some skinhead Nazi son-of-a-bitch. What’s that? You think Dean Takahashi was iffy? You must be a right-wing trogdolyte.

I dislike this because it shuts down any conversation to be had and is a very underhanded dodge method. It also pushes people to extremes because they develop a sense of bitterness from being silenced.

But hey, who gives a shit. Criticism of game journalists apparently makes you “right-wing”, whatever the hell that even means.

Rant aside. I don’t know anyone saying that they need to “take any emotion from the game”, back then and now. I remember people saying that they shouldn’t be sleeping with the person who was reviewing their game, much like with every other field, to prevent as much bias as possible. Very different things.

I also remember people saying that you had to be “good”, but the definition of “good” was “decent at the game”.

> But a skilled gamer isn’t necessarily a skilled reporter. Journalism has its own requirements for basic competency: a strong voice, a powerful command of the written word, the people skills necessary to talk to sources, and the humility required to cooperate with an editor and revise a story. These are not necessarily things you can learn from playing Super Smash Bros. Ultimateor Overwatch. On some level, you have to sacrifice in-game time to focus on becoming a better reader, writer, and communicator. If that means you occasionally struggle with a difficult game like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice or Enter the Gungeon, then so be it. That doesn’t make you any less of a games journalist.

🍀 The article is right in that being a skilled gamer doesn’t make you a skilled journalist. You do have to sacrifice some thing for another. Doesn’t explain Dean’s abysmal performance in the tutorial or when we see game journalists play FPS games and move their character, not the camera, to turn around and shoot something.

Look. You don’t have to be a god at a game to review it. It would be untrue to say that nobody ever said this, but it would also be untrue to say that that’s what people are asking for. It’s like if you were buying that overly hyped cheese tart. You really, really want the cheese tart reviewer to have taste buds. It’d be great if they can tell you if there’s some essence of cheese-flower in the tart or something, but that’s a bonus. You want them to be able to tell you how it generally tastes, the mouth feel, if it’s crumble, etc etc. If that’s the standard for most, if not everything, fields, then why should it be different for gaming?

> But in a world infested with Gamergaters, it’s hard to read a job posting like EventHubs’ in good faith. If you’re not a pro gamer, you’re an SJW charlatan.

🍀 Infested is a strange term to use for people who want ethics in game journalism and don’t want to be hit over the head with some forced SJW aesop or writing which takes the story or setting in a choke hold, like with Andromeda where apparently the Asari, a unisex species has what’s basically gendered pronouns because why the fuck not. (Seriously, it’s a small issue I know, but it would have been great to explore how a unisex species works, if they use different pronouns for the different stages in like, etc etc, and if they do, why? How the hell would they perceive gender anyway? Asari can breed with pretty much whoever they want, genitals be damned.)

Infested is a strange term to use for people who rolled their eyes to Far Cry 5 reviewers that said that the game wasn’t “political enough” (to summarize) because they wanted the game to bash the hell out of Trump and his supporters and gave the game a lower score.

(No, seriously. They expected a French company who wants to make money to alienate a portion of their player base to make some political statement that they most likely do not care about so that some folks who hate Trump can get a hard on for 5 seconds or something.)

I don’t think anyone who plays video games is really against “diversity” in video games. I say it in quotation marks because the definition of diversity is ridiculously loose. I mean, a while ago we got some guy criticizing The Witcher 3, a game based on a nearly mono-European-ethnicity country’s cultural history and mythology, a nation which doesn’t get much spotlight in anything aka Poland because it doesn’t have “people of colour”.

I don’t know about you lot, but I would honestly rather play a game that’s based off of Polish stories, Egyptian mythos than some shooter based in America, even if the character is somehow, super specifically, Malaysian Chinese and likes Nasi Lemak and Ramlee burgers more than he should.

And no. You’re not an SJW charlatan because you’re not a pro-gamer. It’s a false dichotomy to say that. If you’re an SJW charlatan, it’s because you’re an SJW charlatan. It’s almost as bloody stupid as saying that you’re a right-winger because you play games. Or you’re part of the Yang-Gang because you’re Asian because he’s Asian. (For the record, I’m Malaysian, again, but the Yang-Gang thing is pretty cool.)

Stop digging Gamergate back out from it’s grave. You’ve taken the piss on it’s corpse, spat at people who gave too much of a damn about games and repeatedly use it as a boogeyman to further your bullshit instead of, oh, I don’t know, using it as the lesson it should be:

Do your job and tell us if a game is decent, fun or bad, your political standpoint be damned.

Overall, I’m kind of disappointed yet at the same time I’m not. I really want game journalists to do their job and tell me how fun a game was. I mentioned the Diablo 3 PC Gamer Malaysia article a bunch of times, but recently I remembered the article they wrote for Evil Genius. It didn’t question the morality of the game, it didn’t go on about how there could be more inclusion or some shit like that.

It talked about the game and made me wish I could play it.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal Romance AU fanfic

15a The Regatta part 2

Charlotte wrestles with her Father’s announcement and Brad admits his true feelings.

Scenes of a sexual nature, not suitable for under 18s

@ao719 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @sleepwalkingelite @boneandfur @blackcatkita @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicescommunity @darley1101 @drakewalkerrosenberg @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @goirishsunshine @gardeningourmet @katurrade @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @mrs-nazario @mind-reader1 @ooo-barff-ooo @silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty @zaffrenotes @missevabean @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cora-nova @missameliep @tanelle83 @endlessly-searching-for-you @jlouise88 @drakenazario @annekebbphotography @tabithacarlisle @furiousherringoperatortoad @notoriouscs @classylady1234 @wickedgypsymoon @carabeth @choices-fangirl @indiana-jr 

15a The Regatta part 2

Charlotte’s head swam. Inwardly she raged at her Father for not warning her what he was planning. Outwardly she had to appear as if she already knew. If her life had been complicated before, it had just multiplied in complexity. Of course she knew that she’d be required to take on more power and responsibility soon, but now it was upon her. Add to that the fact that her father was terminally ill, and she was left reeling. She suspected that this was her Father’s way of focussing her mind, of pushing her toward his choice. She smiled in front of the other nobles, she watched the race, but she was numb. She was waiting until she could talk to her father in private, and she suspected he would try to put that off or choose a time when she was totally unprepared.

It was Maxwell that won the race, with Anton a very close second. The young Beaumont positively bounced on board the Royal Yacht and beamed with pride as he sat next to Charlotte while drinks and nibbles were served. She tried her hardest to let his bubbly persona lift her spirits, but it was difficult. Eventually they were alone, and he leaned across to her, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

‘Lottie, did you know the King was planning on involving you in State matters quite so soon?’ he asked in a low tone.

‘No, I did not’ she whispered ‘and I’ll be having words with him later. He could at least have told me before announcing it in front of everyone’ Max nodded

‘Well, as always, if you need a friendly ear, you know where to find me. I’m only sorry I can’t be more help’ Charlotte furrowed her brow in thought.

‘Well Maxxy, you could keep me updated on Court gossip – that might help me sway Council members If I need to apply leverage’ He grinned back

‘No probs Prinny’ he winked ‘Agent Max is on it. Drake said…’ and his eyes grew wide and he shut his mouth. Charlotte frowned

‘Drake said – what exactly?’ she asked. Maxwell squirmed uncomfortably.

‘It wasn’t anything really, I know you and he fell out – he was the one who told me he thought you’d been blindsided’ Charlotte sighed

‘I guess it just goes to show how well he knows me. I’m not quite so upset with him now, I’ll talk to him at some point soon – but don’t tell him that Maxxy’ The young man held up his hand

‘I pinky swear, my lips are sealed’ he said earnestly, and Charlotte linked fingers with him, smiling.

‘Okay, now we’d better circulate a little. Did you know Adelaide is here tonight?’ Maxwell grew pale.

‘Really? Oh God, don’t leave me with her, it’s embarrassing the way that cougar paws me after a couple of glasses of bubbly’

‘Don’t worry Max, you’re my escort for the evening and she’s not staying over on the yacht. You get a cabin all to yourself – just don’t go there until she’s left’

‘Phew, thanks Lottie, you’re a real pal.’ The two of them stayed side by side until dinner, when Adelaide left. All the other suitors were there, and all had cabins for the night. Although it was a large luxury yacht, quarters were cramped and there was little privacy for anyone save the King, whose suite was on the level just below the top deck, with a large cabin and attached study for State business. Charlotte was tired and about to retire for the night when Constantine, so far having avoided being alone with her, drew her aside.

‘Before you go to bed my dear, there are some papers for you to read and sign. I’ll set you up in my study and leave you to get through them all.’

‘Father, I was wanting to speak with you – in private’ she said stiffly

‘Of course my dear, follow me’ he said coolly, and led her to his study. He closed the door and at last they were alone. She wasted no time

‘Father, why didn’t you tell me about all that responsibility before you told the Press?’ she asked. She expected him to be angry or evasive, but his face remained calm

‘A Queen should be ready to serve her country, and you are so close to taking over that role now. I didn’t think it necessary to remind you that you have pressing duties.’

‘But I’m already swamped with the social season and the pressing matter of choosing a consort!’ she pointed out angrily.

‘All the better to find out who will assist or hinder you, my dear daughter’ he replied evenly ‘Each night from now on you’re going to have to attend to state matters, and I will send one of your suitors to assist you for a short while. They won’t be vital matters, but all the same it will be very telling as to how they behave. I expect you to test each one of them in a timely fashion.’

‘I still think some warning was in order, father’

‘Not at all, I wanted to see how you react under pressure, and so far, you’re doing very well. And don’t forget that you may not have me around for long to assist you’ He walked over to the desk and indicated a pile of papers ‘The sooner you begin, the sooner you finish, my dear. I expect them all seen to before morning. For tonight, you’ll be on your own to get a taste of the sort of thing you’ll be dealing with. Goodnight Charlotte, I’ll be in my cabin next door. When you’ve finished, close the door quietly, there’s a good girl’

The King left, and Charlotte fumed silently, regarding the stack of papers.

In the morning, Olivia sat at the dressing table in her cabin, looking at her reflection with a mouthful of hair pins. With a sigh, she let her long red hair down and started to brush it for the third time. There had not been enough room for her to bring a maid, and she couldn’t for the life of her get her hair to look right. She started again, gathering it together and twisting, poking the pins in again only for half of it to escape just as she heard a knock at the door.

‘Go away’ she growled, but whoever it was didn’t know when to quit, as the knock came again. She screamed with frustration and threw her hairbrush at the door. It opened, and Brad poked his head in cautiously

‘What part of ‘go away’ did you not understand, Brad?’ she growled

‘I’m sorry Livvy, I could have sworn you said come in’ he said innocently. He looked at the hairbrush on the floor ‘What gives? I was going to offer to take you into breakfast and have a quick chat about Lottie first, but’ he looked at her hair ‘you look like you’re having problems’ He stepped in, picking up the hairbrush.

‘Unless you’ve got some skill with a hairbrush and hairpins, you can turn right around, pretty boy’ she snapped. Brad rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepish. Olivia rolled her eyes, having a flashback to their game of ‘Never have I ever’ in the hot tub. ‘Don’t tell me, you trained as a hairdresser. You’re a man of many skills’ Brad smiled lopsidedly.

‘Not quite, but one of my exes hated getting her hair cut, so she wore it up or braided a lot of the time. I got pretty good at updos and French plaits while we were together’ Olivia shrugged her shoulders.

‘Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got’ and Brad stepped forward as she turned to the mirror. Brad started to brush her hair. He had a gentle touch and she found it very soothing. In turn, he was enjoying running her hair through his fingers as he twisted it up and pinned it into a simple flattering style.

‘You have beautiful hair’ he said as he worked. ‘A very unique colour’ Olivia snorted.

‘Is that a polite way of saying I’m ginger? Believe me there’s not a negative comment I haven’t heard over the years’ Brad smiled apologetically.

‘You forget, I spent years living in Scotland, there are a lot of red heads there, it’s more common to not be a redhead. Your colour is very rich, and I can tell it’s natural’ Olivia softened a little. ‘How do you like the style?’

‘Thankyou’ she said stiffly ‘It’s adequate. And I don’t often get compliments’ Brad looked at her reflection quizzically.

‘Really? I find that hard to believe. You’re…’ he swallowed, remembering Olivia’s quick temper, but he pressed on boldly ‘Stunning’ Olivia pivoted on her chair, surprise in her eyes. 

‘You find me attractive, Brad? You usually run for the hills whenever I make a move on you’ She looked him up and down approvingly and he flushed.

‘I – you’ve threatened me so many times I don’t know when you’re serious’ he replied, and she pouted.  Brad’s palms were sweating and he felt light headed.

‘Just figures of speech darling’ she said ‘And I suppose I love teasing you. I usually take what I want, and you’re good at dodging’ 

‘Years of rugby practice I guess’ he grinned ‘and you’ve been throwing me at the Princess and warning me not to succeed, so I wasn’t sure where I stood.’ Olivia sighed

‘I think it’s unlikely that you’ll become Consort, that was never my intention’ she confessed ‘Part of me didn’t want to leave you behind’ Brad gaped at her ‘Even so, it also didn’t feel right to sleep with the guy I brought over to act as a suitor for Lottie, as long as she was enjoying your company’ Brad mind was working overtime at her confession, and his admittance of his true feelings,

‘I – then I can’t carry on leading her on’ he said ‘It’s not fair on her’ Olivia nodded. 

‘You’re probably right. So…’ she reached out and put her hand on his thigh as he stood in front of her ‘Why don’t you stop wasting time and kiss me?’ Brad swallowed.

‘Only if you promise you won’t disembowel me – or any of those other threats you’ve made’

‘I promise I will not attempt to maim, injure or kill you if you just shut the fuck up and kiss me’ she growled. Brad took her hand off his thigh and pulled her up to standing. Their lips crashed together, no tender exploration but a straightforward messy open mouthed kiss, tongues entwining immediately, his hand at the back of her neck and her nails scraping his scalp, bodies pressed together until Olivia started to push him back toward the bed and they half stumbled to it, Brad landing on his back and Olivia kneeling on the mattress, following him.

He had denied his feelings toward her for so long and now it was like a dam breaking, blood going to parts that had not been appeased for some time. He felt a low growl in his throat, kicking off his shoes and scooting up the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as she advanced on him.

‘How long since you had sex Brad?’ she asked huskily ‘I mean proper sex, no fumbling around with fingers and tongues, real hot pounding ball emptying sex?’ Brad groaned as she hiked up her dress and straddled him, grinding her groin against his as he grew harder by the second. He sat up to claim her lips, breathing noisily though his nose as their mouths fused together until they parted for breath.

‘Oh god Olivia – two weeks before you stepped into my bar?’ he panted, his brain having a hard time working it out as the blood flowed to his lower regions. She grinned, easing up and unbuckling his belt.

‘You must have blue balls, Brad’ she said, ‘I’m doing you a service’ She wasted no time pulling down his trousers and getting off the bed to tear his socks off before leaving them all on the floor in a heap, climbing back onto the bed ‘or do you take yourself in hand from time to time?’ She started to unbutton his shirt rapidly, raking her fingernails over his chest. His skin burned and lit the fire of passion in his belly.

‘Who doesn’t?’ admitted Brad as she stood to hike up her long dress and strip off her panties, slipping her shoes off at the same time.

‘Show me’ she demanded, and he shot her a confused look.

‘What?’ He asked.

‘Show me how you hold yourself’ she said, licking her lips and stripping his boxers off, making an approving sound as she saw his rapidly hardening member. Brad groaned and reached down, wrapping his hand around himself and drawing back his foreskin in a slow steady rhythm. She watched for  a while then advanced on him, coming up to the head of the bed and straddling his face. Happily he darted out his tongue and ran it over her full slick lips, tasting her with approval and probing with the tip of his tongue for the little button of her clitoris, surprised and gratified to find how swollen and engorged it was, and softly circled it, happy to feel her bounce away from him slightly with the intensity, so he softened the pressure as she lowered herself again, using the flat of his tongue to press gently on it. He felt rather than heard her moan, then she sat up and pivoted so he faced his feet.

He felt her lean forward and peel his hand away from his cock and bucked as he felt her lips around the tip, warm and wet. Slowly she worked her mouth around him, and he felt as if he was losing his mind with the double stimulation of the scent and moisture of her moist folds and the heat of her mouth. He pushed her hips up and away, and she pivoted so she knelt next to him.

‘Fuck Olivia, I won’t last long like that’ he panted ‘If you want me inside you it had better be now’ Olivia reached over to the bedside table and produced a foil wrapped package, ripping it open. She smiled archly as she rolled the condom over his length.

‘Oh Brad, you’re just perfect, nice and thick’ she purred, and straddled him, lowering herself onto the tip ‘I like being stretched’ Sitting up, she eased onto him slowly and he fought the urge to thrust up into her, hands resting on her hips, waiting for her to adjust and sink onto him. At last she settled with a sigh of satisfaction and tightened around him, making him gasp with delight, his fingers tightening into her flesh.

‘Oh that’s good’ he breathed, aware that the walls in the yacht were not good at sound insulation. He bit his lip as she rose a little, then slid back down. She threw her head back as she started to move, tilting and rolling her hips in an erratic pattern that kept him guessing as to when she would almost let him fall out of her, only to suddenly allow him to thrust up into her, or just tilt slightly to keep the stroke shallow, or crash down onto him. She stopped altogether as she pressed her lips to his, tightening her soft velvet walls around his cock rhythmically. He pulled away from her mouth, gripped her hips and flipped her over onto her back.

She snarled, showing her teeth and rose up to bite his shoulder, hands clawing at his back, fingernails raking top to bottom. She brought her mouth close to his ear.

‘Fuck me Brad, show me what you’ve got. Don’t be gentle, fuck me hard.’ she whispered, biting down on his earlobe. He waited for her to let it go, hissing at the sharp pain and started to drive into her in a frenzied rhythm, allowing a low grunt to escape on each stroke. She panted and gasped and writhed underneath him, meeting his every thrust with her hips until she started to tighten around him, a soft moan escaping her lips. He slowed a little and she pulled him close, pressing herself hard onto his groin and shuddering, gasping as he delivered the last few strokes that finally allowed him to erupt inside her, emptying himself with a deep guttural groan. He let his breath steady before he pulled out and collapsed to the side of her sweating, heart hammering and lay on his back listening to her panting slowing and evening out. He got up to get rid of the condom and clean himself up, returning to the bed to collapse next to her.

‘Well I think that’s me out of the running as suitor’ he panted

‘Don’t be silly darling Olivia gasped ‘We Cordonians - are generous people – we like to share’ He turned to her incredulously.

‘Olivia, I’m a one woman kind of guy’ he said ‘I can’t go back to Charlotte if I’m fucking you’

‘Who says you get to do it again?’ she said mischievously. He turned and looked at her. locking his eyes to her, blue to green.

‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to’ She gazed at him and opened her mouth, then smiled archly

‘It was fun, I’ll admit that’

‘You’re a fiery woman Olivia. Lottie’s fragile, and I’m afraid of hurting her - physically and emotionally. I’m in her bad books for defending Drake anyway’ She rolled over to face him.

‘I like a man who likes it rough, and I wouldn’t wish that on Lottie. You’re right, you can’t woo her, but you can still support her if she’ll let you. Do whatever you can to get her trust back and we’ll have to hope she forgives Drake too – or we’ll end up with a Severus on the throne.’

[grand-alter]

Overture of Terror

My submission for the Disgaea Halloween Gift Exchange. This one goes out to Neko Lyra, a.k.a lyra2love/neko-lyra of Twitter/DeviantArt respectively.

Just a little one-shot for Zeroken and Usalia which takes place in my technically 1000 year time-skip series of fanfictions known as Fading Retribution.

-----

Hm…

Ethereal wisps, check.

Screeching pumpkins, check.

Frightful decorum, check.

A set of azure candle lights had been flickering along the edge of the foyer, piercing through the calm night from outside of the castle. As a cavalcade of wererabbit maids had been making the finishing touches to various decorations within the room, Usalia had been marking off the last of many spaces on a list in her dainty grasp.

…and done.

The young overlord hands off her checklist to the maid at her side, “Preparations have come along very well. Splendid work, Elie. Your company is dismissed for the night.”

Elie retrieves the completed list from Usalia, and she gives her a respectful bow in response, “Of course, Mistress. We will make sure to contact our Prinnies for an update on the sweets.”

When the overlord nodded her head in affirmation to her vassal, the maid circles back through the foyer of the castle, filing her ensemble into its hallways.

A period of silence had then ensued around the lone wererabbit upon her vassals having departed, making the air run still in her domain.

Usalia sets her keen eyes back on the center of the room, and she lets out a calm sigh as she pressed her fingers together. When she gave a quick snap of said fingers, the numerous chandelier lights above her go out in an instant, leaving her in a quiet darkness.

As the eerie candle flames burned through the interior shade of the building, the overlord gives a final once over to the foyer and all of the colorful ornaments placed in it.

Hm, not a single ribbon out of line or decoration out of place there. The venue was all nice and orderly, just perfect for the festive gathering in mind by her.

As the wererabbit had stood composed before the scene for some kind of occasion, a quick shadow had been slipping through the darkness without a singular trace.

Usalia adjusts her short dress as she looked herself over as well, a small quirk to her lips, “Can’t wait for the others to see…”

In spite of her stoic disposition, a warm smile almost belaying excitement had made its way onto her expression. At that moment though, the shadowy figure had landed from above, intent on approaching her from behind, and he…

He shifts her rabbit ears apart in a rather gentle manner. She then feels a chin plop itself onto her head, going wide-eyed from the sudden contact.

“Can’t wait for us to see what?”

Huh…

Usalia flinches from the sly gesture of the visitor, and she almost trips forward as she spun back toward him, “P-plip?!”

Ugh… damn habit. How did…?

As the wererabbit steadied herself from all of that, the figure just looks on in befuddlement from her reaction, “Uh… hey, Usalia. You good?”

The overlord then almost freezes upon noticing who was before her. Even as he stood there in the room, his orange irises gleam in the ominous shade around them.

Zeroken… it was just Zeroken.

She gets her demeanor straightened out, “Oh… Hello to you too, Zeroken. What brings you back on such short notice… or no notice at all for that matter?”

As she adjusted her fluffy ears for a bit, he gives her a short wave in greeting, “Yo, caught wind of a little detail in the grapevine that you were planning some big event.”

She raises an eyebrow at that explanation from him, “Hm, you learned of that from a leak? What of the messenger Prinny I had sent out to you?”

In light of that question for the werewolf… a quiet beat passes.

He just tilts his head at her in apparent confusion, “Huh… what messenger Prinny?”

She could only pinch the bridge of her nose in disappointment. Note to self… continue doubting viability of the Hades Prinny Mail Service.

As he gave a cursory glance to the rest of the foyer, she shakes that lingering thought out of her mind, “Nevertheless, I planned for everyone to arrive on the same day.”

He wraps his arms behind his head as he looked back down at her, “Heh, guess I took the initiative then. So that’s what this whole setup was for.”

She nods her head in response to him on that, and she begins strolling back toward the windows of the room, “Hm, would you happen to have heard of Halloween by any chance?”

He looks off to the side in a moment of thought as he followed beside her, and he gives a casual shrug to her question, “Kinda, isn’t it one of those little human holidays?”

She gestures him toward the distinct ornaments arranged within her family castle, “Indeed, you could say I’m paying tribute to it this month.”

He raises an eyebrow at that assured statement from her, “Really now? But… it does seem a bit kiddy though, even with all this fancy decor being up.”

She clasps her small hand over her chest, “It is meant to be a respectful celebration. A time when they regard the importance of our kind by donning costumes and adopting a frightful atmosphere like those of the Netherworlds. Even bestowing sweets all the while.”

He almosts chuckles at her reasoning, “Oh, so they wear outfits and give out candy? Definitely seems kiddy to me.”

As the pair approached the view of the royal courtyard, she gives him a coy look, “Then it should be perfect for someone like you.”

He rolls his sharp eyes at her retort, “Eh, you’re not wrong there.”

She directs her sight up to the countless glimmers which dotted the night sky, “Mhm, but it could be fun for the likes of us. Everyone would be able to see each other after so long.”

He lets a smirk come to his face as he also looked up at the stars, “Heh… that does sound like something. Has been quite awhile…”

When he looked down over at her, his smirk loosening back into a smile, she returns the smile in kind, “It really has been.”

The werewolf had begun stretching out his lean form, enjoying the starlight from outside. As a quaint smile remained on the wererabbit, she wraps her arms behind her soft jacket.

Zeroken does perk up at a particular thought in mind though, so he begins looking around more of the foyer, “Speaking of… what about Majorita? Much with her?”

“Over here, mutt!”

Zeroken spins back toward the source of the exclamation, and he just raises an eyebrow upon seeing a certain necromancer come into view, “Uh…”

Mop in hand, the other woman just grimaces to herself as she wiped at the floor, clad in the same uniform as the maids from earlier, “Don’t… ask. I’m doing just peachy.”

As Majorita returned to her duties now in the foyer, Zeroken glances back down at Usalia, a sweatdrop to his brow, “Huh… guess that answers my question.”

Usalia returns the glance as she also turned back toward Majorita, letting the tiniest of smirks creep onto her lips, “Indeed, same circumstance as always with her.”

Zeroken sighes out in exasperation from that, “Geez, still no mercy for the wicked it seems. You just gonna be leaving her in the dust for the whole party?”

Usalia lets out a coy gasp as she glanced away from the werewolf, “Why, of course not, Zero. I will permit her some autonomy during it. I am a demon after all, not a monster.”

Zeroken almost sweatdrops again from catching a glimpse of the malicious side of his wererabbit friend, “Some, huh? Whatever you say, Lil’ Usa.”

As Majorita almost gagged from the conversation in earshot, Usalia holds back a little giggle from her former rebel partner, “Oh, do not forget how you were the one who decided to sneak inside here like some kind of street urchin.”

Zeroken flinches from that apt point being given, “Uh… not sure I made the best impression on your new guards. Figured I just take a different entry for tonight. Besides, seems like I got the drop on you pretty good back there.”

When he gave her a smug grin, she waves away that bout of confidence, “Feh, please. If it were anyone else, some blood would have most likely been shed by now.”

He raises an eyebrow at that cutthroat remark of hers, so he checks over his rugged garbs, “How considerate then. You weren’t really threatened by my presence at all, huh?”

As he continued grinning down at her, she trails her placid sight away from him, a light blush sneaking onto her features, “Hm… perhaps.”

In the meanwhile, Majorita was inching toward the pair of werebeasts in the process of her mopping work. She could only let out a silent groan upon seeing Usalia act bashful.

The necromancer halts herself when she reached the two, “Uh… ‘Mistress’, could you please quit your flirting and move along?”

The wererabbit shots a quick look over toward her servant, the slight pink on her cheeks fading away, “Why, of course.”

When Usalia pressed her fingers back together, raising them up for Majorita, the necromancer freezes up on the spot from the gesture. Zeroken tilts his head out of perplexity at that, noticing Majorita almost break out into a nervous sweat.

As Usalia did end up snapping her fingers from there, making the chandeliers light back up throughout the spacious room, Majorita winces at that instant. The impromptu maid just holds a shaky hand over her heart, turning somewhat pale from utter dread.

Hehehe… oh, how splendid.

Even as Zeroken raised a curious eyebrow at that reaction from Majorita, Usalia feels her smirk only grow wider, and she pulls her rebel compatriot aside, leading him into the hallways of the castle for the remainder of their little chat.

-----

A sincere thanks goes to @cosmicapproachart for suggesting the opportunity to me and everyone in the Disgaea Netherworlds Amino.

[sinjhopokedex-a]

Symphony

Despite being told not to handle the Prinnies at all, Symphony still looked disappointed and sad when she had to let the little guy go. “Awwww…” She looked like a puppy that just had it’s toy taken away…way to go, Squeaks. 

Symphony was so bummed out, she didn’t even notice they were holding hands again. “O-Ok…I-it’s really nice of the O-Overlords to give p-people like me s-shelter. I-I can’t wait to see more of this c-castle.”

Maybe she’ll hug another Prinny when Squeaks wasn’t looking, or maybe give them a treat for all their hard work.

Admittedly, he felt a little bad seeing Symphony’s face after he shooed away the Prinny... But still! They weren’t meant to be coddled and spoiled, and he was just doing the right thing to keep that particular Prinny on the path of reincarnation.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t look at me like that.” he said as he led her through the halls of the castle. “Where we’re going you won’t need that stupid Prinny.”

At least, he hoped she’d forget about the Prinny once they reached their destination. And it was just a bit farther...

After a bit of walking, the pair came to the door to a tower that sat at the back end of the castle. Squeaks opened the door and led her up the spiral staircase and to the top of the tower. There was another door, which Squeaks stood in front of for a moment before he looked to Symphony.

“You ready?” he asked, not waiting too long for an answer before he opened the door...

...Revealing a massive room full of cat Pokémon! Skitty, Meowth, Espurr, Purrloin, Shinx, Litten, Glameow, and even some of their evolutions were all present and accounted for. Some played on the floor, others relaxed on one of the the numerous cat condos in the room, while the elder cats simply slept in various beds and spots on the floor or watched over the younger ones. A variety of different cat toys were strewn about the area, just begging to be tossed and dangled in front of any of the cats.

“Well, whatcha think?” he asked, ushering Symphony into the room and closing the door behind them before picking up a curious Meowth that had wandered over to them. “Overlord Rin made sure to adopt the tamest ones from all the best Beast Tamers. You won’t find Pokémon friendlier than these in this Netherworld!”

[theprinceregent]

Historical Fave Tag

I was tagged by: some bih who follows my blog idk (; (luv u @decadent-empress!)

1. Who’s your historical person? i LOVE how myself and my lovely “Set” of fave mutuals all love Prinny, but whether by accident or by design, have all chosen different people from each other whilst still covering Prin himself, so i’m going to continue that by choosing:

Her Grace, Georgiana Spencer-Cavendish, 5th Duchess of Devonshire.  aka G/Gee, “Mrs Rat”, The Empress of Fashion.

2. What is it about them that draws you to them like a magnet? how “human” she still is and how relatable i find to her to myself even though she died 211 years ago. i love her determination to succeed and prove her worth among the men in a time when woman literally had no rights. i adore and admire in equal measure her strength of spirit, her kindness, sensitivity, eagerness and a very clear love for those in her Devonshire House Set and her children. she had immense power and influence, especially for a woman, with every big name aristocrat having a tie to her and/or moving in and out of her Set, she was even in correspondence with Marie Antoinette (whom she called “Mrs Bourbon” and even met in person too). Although she had her dislikes (Maria Fitzherbert and Lady Jersey anyone?) she still overlooked her friends faults (Prinny’s debts and family affairs, Lady Melbourne’s multiple-children-by-multiple-fathers situation, i could go on...) and even let Lady Bess Foster into her home to live and sleep with the duke (in both senses of that word) for 15 years! Her heart was vast, warm and kind and i still feel that even today. I have read the Amanda Foreman biography on her three times now.

3. Favourite thing about them? her “get up and go” attitude, how she helped Fox and Grey with their political campaigns although there was little in it for her as women couldn’t then vote, how she became the unspoken Society leader of the Whig party, but imo didn’t let this go to her head too much, instead focusing on pleasing others around her (as well as the gambling and the laudanum lmao but we’ll touch on that later) and how she used fashion and clothes as a way of both expressing and empowering herself, earning the nickname “The Empress Of Fashion” because of this. also how she just kept on going through incredibly difficult times, through the slander and libel and the insults and the addictions and debt and banishment/isolation, i cannot dream of how anxious and depressed she must have been at times, but yet she kept on going, and still kept helping her friends too where she could. i have so much respect for her it makes me teary eyed at times. what a hun! we’d have been the best of friends if i was alive in the late 18th century.

4. Least favourite thing about them? she does seem like a bit of a glutton for punishment??? like her debts were paid off on two separate occasions by the Duke of Devonshire (the second time her debts were so great that he actually had to sell off Devonshire assets to help him out), and yet she continued to rack up more gambling debts (second to only Prinny i believe) and seemed not to listen to the advice, which imo was genuinely well meaning, which her friends tried to provide her with. also, she could have “picked her battles” as the saying goes, a little better e.g. knowing when to open her mouth to the duke, but also knowing when to keep it shut.

5. If you could fix one thing for them? i would have been there to stick up for her when the papers and certain men were doing shitty things to her and her reputation, and given her some comfort and reassurance in the cases where she very clearly needed some, but with was provided with nothing.

6. If you could change their history, would you? If so, what? i think it’s important to let history run its course in a way, but i would have liked to have contributed towards her personal happiness more, by allowing her to be with Earl Grey (who legit did treat her very well until she was forced to break off contact with him) and by persuading her well-meaning-but-incredibly-encroaching-and-full-on mother to back off of her a little, and to have given women the vote. Georgiana and the ladies would have changed the course of politics if they were all allowed to vote i’m sure of it.

7. What is the first thing you would say to them? i would just give her the biggest hug.

8. Bring them to 2017 with you, what does that look like? i think Georgiana would be DELIGHTED with social media, allowing her to keep in constant contact with her children and her friends from her Set and to organise those big Devonshire House dinner parties & balls much easier as well! i cannot picture G wearing 21st century fashions, but i think because of how interested she was in fashion, i think she would find it amusing and strange how much things have changed. she was also a fan of the liberal arts, and i don’t think she would like modern/contemporary art and the new styles of architecture either.

9. What wouldn’t you tell them about the future? That the Tories have been in power for nearly ten years and likely will be for another ten as well lmao. I think the threat of nuclear war would scare her, and she would be deeply saddened that people are still homeless and going hungry in a very rich country.

10. Favourite story about them? - that Beau Brummell persuaded her to pay off one of his tailor bills lmao - during one of Prinny’s overdramatic pledges of love to Maria Fitzherbert, he was said to have stabbed himself and that his dying wish was to see Maria one last time, she was frightened to go alone so asked Georgiana to accompany her, Maria was then told her his other dying wish was for her to be his wife, and i believe under the pressure and stress of the circumstances, she relented and said yes. however, Prin wanted to “seal the deal” with a ring, and neither party was in possession of one suitable, so Georgiana took one off her own finger and used it to help them undertake an illegal marriage lmao what a babe. - several Society ladies bribed Georgiana’s chief dressmaker for the pattern of the dress that she would be wearing to the next calendar event, the seamstress was loyal to Georgiana, so fobbed all the ladies off with the same pattern, but telling each of them it was unique, so when they all arrived at the party, each of them had an identical dress on whilst Georgiana was wearing something completely different and arguably much nicer lmao

11. Share your favourite picture of them.

I tag: @spoutziki-art, @beau--brummell, @scopesandskullties & @therepublicofletters!

[general-loki]

Title: Mid-Afternoon Radiance

Series: Disgaea 4

Ship: Valvatorez/Fenrich

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Takes place before the events of the game. Pretty fluffy.

Summary:  Fenrich continues to find himself displeased with Valvatorez's work as a prinny instructor. How could a demon so grand stay in Hades this long? Despite Valvatorez's supposed contentment with this place, Fenrich plans a new way to stir him out of the usual and hopefully out of Hades. Everything is laid out perfectly when something gives him pause and to make matters much worse warden Axel gets in his way.

[Read on AO3]

Or continue reading below.

“Could you imagine? Rebels? What a strange thing,” Valvatorez chattered in his usual way—far too passionate for Fenrich to really handle physically at the moment. He'd only mentioned the news of snuffed rebellions far outside their walls to make conversation. They didn't often speak of what happened outside Hades. But every so often news would make it's way down and Fenrich would gently pass it the vampire's way.

This was not because he anticipated strong results. But maybe something—anything—would knock his dear lord out of this degrading slump of an existence in Hades. Regardless of how the conversation would go, Fenrich tried and, at this point, he figured that was the best he could do.

“The demon realm is in constant strife recently. At least more than usual,” Fenrich noted, in an attempt to draw out that bit more.

“And yet it is always this way too. Demons rise and fall, that's simply how it is.”

Except for one notable who had sat up at the top for quite some time, but Fenrich let that linger. Some demon had to take that spot— although it was a crime that this demon was not Valvatorez and instead some less noble demon. The thought gave Fenrich plenty to stew on, leaving him a bubbling mass just under the skin. He carried it well, but what an injustice to be in constant view of.

“Rebels typically have some sort of cause, don't they?” Fenrich said after a moment of thought.

The idea seemed almost fresh to Valvatorez, the vampire settling back in his chair, his hand resting at his chin as he fully considered the possibility. Some complication crossed his face as his look darkened. “That I cannot say. I don't know these demons. I don't believe I ever will. At the moment my responsibilities lie with the prinnies.”

An internal groan in frustration whipped through Fenrich's entire consciousness, but manifested outwardly as a troublesome smile. He had been so close to something. Perhaps this was something he could work with. That matter he could handle after their break. He didn't need too long.

“Of course, my lord,” Fenrich answered as he stood up from the table. The light conversation gave him a bit more strength than his usual. “For now, I believe there are a few things I would like to check up on...I'll return shortly.”

Valvatorez's eyes followed Fenrich's form as he dipped into a slight bow, as he always did. When the two met gazes once more, he spoke. “You know where you might find me at any hour. As reliable as you are, I don't have to worry about that.”

It felt a little like his chest was collapsing from the sheer weight of those words. Fenrich struggled a solid few seconds before he found himself. Valvatorez was really such an impressive demon—that he could trust another demon to know his daily life so well and not be anxious! Surely the sensation it invoked was sheer awe.

The easiest way out led Fenrich to his typical answer—the safe and easy one that had become quite practiced: All is for my lord.

Valvatorez took it with the same sure but slight smile as always and nodded once—a single sign that Fenrich might yet leave alive and in one piece.

Fenrich's flight from the scene brought him toward one of the smoldering lakes of Hades, the glow of the surface so intense it brought a red haze over whoever stood near the edge. This blood orange hue flooded Fenrich's features as he found himself in thought at that threshold, the heat surely keeping the wheels in his head turning. Silence filled the stretch of stone paths. Fenrich couldn't help thinking.

He thought of his lord how he met him—the way those images of him lurked in the fringe of his thoughts constantly. This thought of his lord restored to such that ideal plagued him. There was no better demon to serve and he knew no honor greater than being at Tyrant Valvatorez's side. It nagged at him in ways he dare drive any kind of stake into. It was a specter he could live with. To some degree.

Fenrich's wheels kept turning, always in the hope of a better fortune. There had to be some way to push Valvatorez toward the upper levels of the demon realm. Some way to get him to take blood. He was more than willing to sacrifice his own—how ever unideal. If only some simple conversation could turn his dear lord from this awful responsibility—this terrible promise!

That was when it struck him. Their simple conversation. Fenrich stared into the swirling pools before him, his eyes wide. It was drastic, but he could make it happen. Like a man possessed, he charged off toward one of their supply stores at the edge of their training facilities. He kicked his way through the doors, hands still lodged in his pockets. The doors snapped to the stone walls with a slam and with a peer through the darkness within he spotted exactly what he would need. The weaponry was at least still here. Fenrich hurried back outside, moving at top speed between training groups of prinnies. He could hang around and pretend he was keeping them in line, that was easy enough.

The best candidates were the newcomers. The old ones wouldn't fall in line until the rest had toppled. He eavesdropped and spied—eying those who would fill in for this portion of his plan. Something twisted inside him—something uncomfortable. Rather than confront it, he made his marks—prinny groups to remember for very soon.

Within the hour he saw everything was laid out perfectly. A sprinkling of weaponry dotted curious points of the Hades compound—all placed as stealthily as possible. When Fenrich was done, all that remained was seeing to the blast and that there would be echoes of rebellion among the fools his dear lord watched over. Once they were stupid enough to rise up, they would have no choice, of course, but to quell it. Surely enough of them would wind up outside Hades that the two of them would have to leave or as Fenrich was hoping more fervently, the chaos of combat would draw Valvatorez toward blood. This would have to work. A prinny rebellion was unheard of under Valvatorez's strict watch, but it wasn't impossible.

Fenrich took a few steps toward the group of prinnies he planned to incite into this mess when he stopped.

There really hadn't been much trouble with prinnies under Valvatorez's watch—something his lord was deeply proud of. He thought too clearly of Valvatorez's small smile, the tiny one he would have after a day of work that went well. The look in his eyes. The gaze Fenrich's way. The tiniest sensation of warmth that tightened in his core.

Fenrich stopped dead in his tracks.

Something was wrong.

Could there have been a flaw in his plan? He mentally doubled over his tracks—the storage areas stocked to be blasted to cause chaos, the weaponry laid out within reach, the obviously susceptible newcomers. All of those things were laid out perfectly, but what did he not have? What burned this unacceptable anxiety into him?

He wavered at the ledge for a long few minutes, his thoughts doing uncomfortable laps.

Maybe it was that this wasn't meant to be. Not right then. There were so many variables after all. If something happened more organically perhaps Fenrich could tip things his way—or maybe get that ball rolling, but this was unsightly.

If word of such a thing got out Valvatorez's reputation would simply sink further. He could not quell one rebellion? He struggled with prinnies? No, the picture was unacceptable. Playing so nice for the Corrupternment didn't sit that well with him either. Valvatorez was meant to be above that as well. He might have to relent and accept some small steps first however.

With a heavy sigh, Fenrich took off to reclaim what he'd laid out for the most part, cleaning up like there could have never been a rebellion in the first place. The world would be as Valvatorez would have it for now. Fenrich told himself the time would come. It would show itself.

All of this put him a lousy mood, much worse than usual at least. It was in this state, while handling a load of knives to be put away, that he crossed paths with someone he didn't want to see at all. Across the platform stood the warden Axel—a blowhard with no redeeming qualities. More unfortunately, the mouth on the face that begged to be punched opened and he spoke.

“Well lookie here, it's nice prinny instructor's main squeeze! Just the tree I wanna bark up. Where's big guy? Uh, the little guy,” Axel chattered in just such a way that Fenrich wasn't sure he retained anything but the questionable and insulting parts.

“What do you want?” Fenrich asked out flat instead of acknowledging the question. Or any of it. Acknowledging Axel alone was enough a pitfall.

“Whoa easy. I just wanna borrow some extra prinnies. There was a minor-major explosion in the kitchen and I'm sure as hell not gonna be the one cleaning that up. Or rebuilding. Anyway, hook me up with some spare flippers,” Axel near ordered, his hand brushing back some unruly hair. Fenrich thought about crushing in his entire face.

“Submit the order like anyone else.”

“Wait wait--!” Axel's yelling was the only thing that stopped Fenrich from taking too many more steps back toward home. “I just happened to be out, that's all! I'll take the delivery part off your hands; you don't want to make things easier on your master?”

Fenrich dropped the crate of knives on the ground with a clatter and a heavy thud. Axel jumped slightly from the sound, immediately trying to play it off like a purposeful motion with faux grace. Fenrich adjusted one glove to his hand, his gaze on the motion as Axel was left sputtering a start of some kind of continuation he couldn't get off the ground.

“We're going. Just do it the right way next time,” Fenrich said just as flat as he typically spoke to this demon—not that they saw him often. It was always a minor alarm when the warden came out—partially because the demon couldn't do anything right, but also because he was a fool who would probably only come by to gloat about something. They didn't entertain his whims very often. Namely never.

This time however Fenrich led the way. If they did him this favor, he would owe them after all. That he could deal with. Axel followed behind Fenrich in a hurry, but keeping a few safe paces behind him. He tried a few times to make conversation, but the werewolf walled him off. He couldn't recall what he was saying—that much he felt pretty sure about.

Soon enough the pair crossed paths with Valvatorez between checking training halls. He looked surprised when Fenrich had company with him, his head very slightly tilted at the sight. He halted his business to face the two of them, his tone a bit less like the casual sort of chattering away he tended to share with Fenrich.

“Warden Axel, we don't see you often in this corner of Hades. What might you be seeking from us today?” Of course his lord would recognize when they were being sought after for something and not cheery company. Nor did he seem all that interested in keeping Axel's company for very long.

The warden straightened up and cleared his throat, trying to pass as some sort of official. “I was passing by and remembered I need to borrow some prinnies for some repairs. I thought I'd come and grab them.”

The air felt a little tense for a moment as Valvatorez sized up the warden and his request. After a second he turned with a flourish of his cape and took over leading the way. “Of course. You may have to settle for a group in training, but perhaps this will be a good exercise for them.”

“Yeah yeah, no problem, see?” Axel said with a grin directed Fenrich's way before he followed closer at Valvatorez's heel. Everything about that look left the werewolf seething. He took up the rear behind them, but he hated it. This little bastard was going to see comeuppance eventually.

With time. Surely with time.

Today seemed bent on testing his patience.

The trip over toward the group Valvatorez had in mind was oddly quiet for him—like contemplative about the way he held himself at his shoulders that told Fenrich he had something to sort out. It was possible he was focused on his work as well, but perhaps the warden put a troublesome thought in his head. Why did he have to show on this day out of all of them?

It didn't take long for the instructor to do his job and round up the prinnies needed as well as supply them with enough direction and fear that even a fool like Axel could handle them. Or if he couldn't, Valvatorez would likely blame himself.

This was Axel they were dealing with. He had a success rate of near zero. Thinking of the weight of that on his lord, Fenrich kept a sharper eye on the warden as they and the troupe of prinnies filed out together. It wasn't until the group was nearly where they would part ways that the werewolf spoke up.

“We better see all of these back in one piece. Lord Valvatorez isn't done with them,” Fenrich said, his most authoritative tone in play as he paired it with a stance that read back alley stabbing incoming.

Not missing the veiled threat, Axel postured back, but to little effect. “You're definitely forgetting who's in charge here. This isn't gonna be an issue. Lay off, okay?”

All the frustration of the day welled up right in Fenrich's core and as the leak started he took an aggressive step forward. “That doesn't really sound like any deal to return them.”

Valvatorez looked like a lingering thought finally struck him. “I suppose I should have you sign the form and waiver. Warden or not, I should still have a signature.”

“Finally asking for my autograph, huh? I couldn't turn down a fan. Who'da thought the old prinny instructor was one? Okay, I can sign your whatever.”

“Waiver. That you acknowledge these prinnies are in training and any fault is not our own.”

“Sorry I don't remember that film—I did so many ya'know—but I'll sign it for a fan.”

Fenrich silently boiled aside the two of them, Valvatorez producing the form and a pen soon enough. The warden took it up and signed over the entire blank space of the document, no care for the lines or instructions. Valvatorez accepted the document well enough, folding it away safely.

“Cool! I'm out, maybe I'll grace you with another visit soon. See ya, Vals, big guy!” Axel said with a wave over his shoulder, taking off with the prinnies tailing behind him obediently enough.

Fenrich was sure that with that display those prinnies would not listen to a damn thing this demon said. Already this was shaping up to be a fine slice of annoyance. He could not stand to see that kind of disappointment in Valvatorez right now—not when he seemed so free of this particular anxiety. For now, he let Axel go—at least for a few minutes.

He turned to Valvatorez and bowed his head. “My lord, I'd like to volunteer myself to follow them for a while. To keep an eye on the prinnies and be sure they'll follow orders.”

The usual small smile didn't follow with the look up Fenrich's way. Valvatorez's eyes contained something else—it wasn't suspicion, but some kind of concern. “I've trained them well, but I do suppose they aren't finished yet. You can't follow all our trainees, but I suppose this is a good opportunity to. Please report back to me how they fair, Fenrich. I would appreciate that.”

Fenrich bowed fully. “Of course, Lord Val. I will return shortly,” he replied almost in a hurry. His patience could hardly stand this. He had to do something. They parted with little more fanfare—Fenrich rushed off to catch up, but kept out of sight so he might eavesdrop and eye if the prinnies behaved, but more important, he could pick a spot to drop from. Soon enough his hiding spot from above produced an opportunity and he took it.

Axel and the prinnies hadn't gotten too far from their main section of Hades when Fenrich landed behind them—not masking his presence or intention at all. The werewolf stood, his hands in his pockets, gaze intense, all focused on the back of the warden's head until he turned his face.

“I want hear it from you that you're going to return these prinnies. No more joking around.”

The demand shot right over the warden's head. “Uh hello? I said it's not an issue. I won't say they'll be like the same number or in the same shape, but I'm not worried.”

“I'm telling you to give us your word that you'll have them returned. Properly.” A little lower dip in this sound of his voice and anything sounded threatening enough. Even someone as thick as Axel could start to get the picture—and it was clear his gears were starting to turn.

The warden turned to face Fenrich properly, back straight, just barely looking down his nose at him. Somehow, he was still grinning. “Hey, your boss is a fan. I'm not gonna do a fan wrong. I'll probably return your prinnies.”

“Probably” didn't keep Valvatorez's name out of any worse gossip. Nor was it going to please him.

Nerves already thin, Fenrich raised his voice just a hair. “He isn't a fan. And I'm looking for a guarantee.”

“He's definitely a fan. And you got as much of my word as I'm gonna give some prinny instructor's steward. Chill out dude.” He laughed rather suddenly. “Oh I get it, you're jealous you didn't get a signature too. I can hook you up, but I'm charging for this one. Nothing less than two hundred hell, okay?”

At those words Fenrich took a more aggressive stance, very ready to finally punch Axel's face, which begged for it, in. His fists clenched and he braced to charge. Somewhere a part of him had been aching for a fight—it had been ages. He had every excuse. Nothing about today was working—it might as well fall to pieces. Muscles remembered everything he needed to do—he'd visualized it clearly enough—he'd hit his mark.

Before the werewolf could close the gap between them, Axel shrieked and panicked. In that state he grasped one of the nearby prinnies and threw them with everything he had. Fenrich really only caught the surprised and sorrowful cry of “dood” as the prinny arched and exploded mere feet from his position. His body recoiled, arms braced ahead of himself for the blast he had no option but to eat at this point. He'd closed his eyes at the last second and he certainly felt the wind of the blast, but no major impact. He wondered if somehow this prinny was a dud, but when he opened his eyes, he was met with an unexpected, but somehow familiar view.

Before Fenrich stood Valvatorez, his cape outstretched to help protect his steward from the blast, some of which the vampire seemed to have soaked up himself. His usually pristine outfit showed signs of searing and burning—perfect edges scuffed from the hit he took for Fenrich.

The ache to fight in Fenrich's core turned to something else—like a nostalgia far too warm to hold as close as he felt compelled to.

“Lord Val...” was all he could murmur, still in awe of this demon—this terribly brilliant demon.

Valvatorez stood tall despite the damage he took, soon lowering his cape so he might look back Fenrich's way more easily. “Are you alright, Fenrich? You did not look quite ready for this outcome.”

“You know this would happen...? No, of course you did! My lord, you never cease to amaze me,” Fenrich found himself saying—almost out of habit, but the awe in his voice was perhaps a bit more than usual.

It drew a light smile to Valvatorez's face, one that endeared itself to Fenrich's memory on sight. There was something unspoken there—something the vampire let be for now as he set his sights on the jumpy warden ahead of him.

“Warden Axel, please forgive my companion. He was concerned over the state of the prinnies. They're yet untrained and there is no guarantee of their perfection to my liking. Please be aware that you must bring them back soon so I might complete their training.”

Of course Valvatorez would get to the heart of the matter—none of the petty stuff that wore on Fenrich's nerves. Such a demon truly deserved to be at the very top of the netherworld.

Axel however was still so frazzled he didn't seem to know what else to do besides agree. “Uh yeah...sure I'll bring 'em back...No problem...”

“Very well. It's in your hands now—it's your responsibility to both myself and those fledglings you've borrowed. I know you'll see to the seriousness of your task. The Netherworld does not function with prinnies of poor guidance,” Valvatorez announced and would likely continue on much of the same track. It sounded like he had more, but Axel gathered himself as much as he might.

“Y-yeah I got it. Cool. Later!” he said, forcing the issue and taking off with the flock of prinnies. Valvatorez looked a touch disappointed his speech was cut off, but it gave him time to turn his attention around on Fenrich again who had remained somewhat stunned behind him.

“I don't believe you answered my question,” Valvatorez began. He offered Fenrich his hand to help him straighten up and the werewolf took it gladly. It was a grasp that neither dropped.

“I'm fine my lord. More importantly, how are you? You should hardly be asking me. You took that blast head on.”

“And I'm still standing, aren't I? What sort of demon did you take me for Fenrich?” he asked back, almost playfully.

This was no time to be playing, especially while he was injured and yet Fenrich couldn't find it in himself to be angry. Not with that sort of question pointed his way. “Of course you'd be fine my lord, but this is still a wound I would not have you sustain in my place...Again even.”

Valvatorez rested his free hand on top of Fenrich's cupped in his other, a very gentle pat following the touch. “You had come out here for my sake. It's the very least I can do for you.”

He couldn't help but hold Valvatorez's hand a little tighter. What else could he could, but hold tightly onto such a moment? Onto such trusting words? There truly was no other demon quite like Valvatorez—every day he asserted such a thing, but with such sacrifices he only made it more clear. He could not believe he could stand at his side so steadily. How did he deserve such a rescue again?

“My lord, I hardly know what to say.”

“If it seems difficult, then do as you always do. I certainly don't mind that,” the vampire offered quite kindly.

Fenrich bowed low, nearly touching lips to the hand he held so closely. It seemed so obvious, but perhaps that was the best he could do. “All is for my lord,” he spoke quietly, a heated desire and a hazy promise together.

While his head was still down, Fenrich felt a slight shift below his lips, the turn of Valvatorez's hand atop theirs together, now lightly grazing fingers by his cheek—his mind unable to grasp how purposeful such a touch might or might not be. It left him crumbling under such a possibility—his mind in tatters. That his lord even had words still for him seemed like too much.

“You're a fantastic demon, Fenrich. The work you do at my side I couldn't replace. Your protection is only what I should do in return for all you do. There is nothing you need to pay me back—nothing new you need to promise me. Your vow is still plenty strong,” Valvatorez said, speaking in a hushed voice limited for just the two of them.

A rush flooded over Fenrich's thoughts and tongue, leaving him both captivated and trapped within his own thoughts. How could such a demon as Valvatorez truly exist? How could he be so lucky as to meet him? To have such a vow that kept them side by side? An ache told him to seek Valvatorez's fingers once more, to be so thrilled once more, but he held himself back. Instead his spare hand sought the vampire's other still wavering near his ear to try and weave their fingers together. The lord looked surprised as their fingers weaved together so easily, palms meeting.

“Lord Val--”

The thought was interrupted as Valvatorez's knees seemed to give away and he dropped. Fenrich used their held hands to draw him closer, effectively holding the vampire up against him rather than letting him hit the floor. His small weight pressed up against him, that seeming to be the best he could do. He looked up from his place with his cheek at Fenrich's chest, the vampire's eyes looking weary in ways he'd probably tried to mask.

“It seems I've overworked myself a little today,” was all he was willing to admit.

Affectionately, Fenrich embraced Valvatorez very briefly, surely only to help hold him up for a moment as he dipped a bit lower so he could scoop the vampire up from behind his knees, his other hand braced at his back. Valvatorez made a slight sound at his sudden upward movement, his eyes wide when they were briskly much more even and close to Fenrich's.

“Then you're going to go right to bed and rest for today. This time you won't argue?” Fenrich said with a smile of his own. That he was content was no secret. Rarely did he get to feel quite so warm, so comfortable.

“Is this really how we have to return?” Valvatorez asked instead.

“I won't let you risk hurting yourself more. We're close. Please bear it for a little while, my lord.” The smile on his face said Fenrich was not bearing this at all, but rather enjoyed it. Perhaps he was simply still glowing from the kind words of his dear lord. Surely Valvatorez would understand. And for once he did not argue much more. Words were not much needed for the rest of the trip, perhaps any would have distracted from the moment before, but mostly Fenrich couldn't get any of it out of his head. It lingered on his mind even as he brought Valvatorez to his chamber and helped him at least get comfortable. As Fenrich laid him down, his arms still tucked a bit under him, Valvatorez reached up his way once more, this time his palm making solid contact with Fenrich's face. It struck him that perhaps he missed the first time with his poor balance.

Heat flooded Fenrich's cheeks at the soft touch and the softer still look on Valvatorez's face. Despite what he had weathered he could still look this formidable—just in ways Fenrich could hardly describe. A different sort of formidableness that left him frozen in his lord's hand, unable to speak any sense.

“I could not manage here without you, Fenrich. I won't have you leaving this room without knowing that.”

Those words leave Fenrich both iced in place and burning alive at the same time. Only a demon so grand as his lord could have such an effect on anyone. Surely this was simply another power of his lord! One he had no idea what he could safely do within it. This trap sealed him and yet urged him closer too. Valvatorez's fingers slipped ever forward, sliding along his neck to gently rest there—fingers curling around to drive that urge for inches closer. It seemed like a blur, but somewhere in that desire for closeness, their lips met so lightly—a wisp of a touch that Fenrich felt down his entire spine. No words left him, just a warm breath and a desire for  more.

Valvatorez loosened his hold and lowered his hand to rest over his own chest. He looked a fair bit more worn out than Fenrich had realized. He may have been terribly overdue for rest. He would have someone come by and be sure he was healing at an acceptable rate. It was slower, but he was still healing—as far as Fenrich could tell. Eventually duty took back his mind and he drew back.

“You have made yourself clear, Lord Val. Take care of yourself for a moment...”

“I have,” he muttered and seemed to relax further—his eyes closed. Fenrich checked to be sure he was alright before backing off once more. He would have to part to see to help and while he was sure the vampire was fine, maybe a bit of distance and a walk would help. All he could was think of the feeling of their lips meeting and all the heat that wouldn't leave his face.

He had a job to do certainly, but his lord never did quite make it so easy. But he would not leave Valvatorez's side for anything. No other demon was quite as honorable—nor did they take up his thoughts so completely.

[tvip11-fics]

A/N: Dark Gray Highschool Teacher AU. Warning: A bit of language.

Valerie figured that when she became a teacher, the worst things she would have to deal with would be the constant bickering between students or rowdy kids in the hall, but certainly not this.

“Whaddya think, Ms.G?” asked Prinny as she shoved her phone into her teacher’s face. On the screen was a beautiful beach house obviously meant for a couple’s getaway, complete with roses on the king sized bed and candles all over the nightstands.

Prinny tossed her brown curls over her shoulder and flashed a wicked smile. “Perfect for you and Mr. Masters for a mini vacay, right?”

Valerie groaned at the sound of his name. Dan Masters, the adopted son of the billionaire Vlad Masters, was the sarcastic and asshole-ish history teacher down the hall. He struck fear into most of the male student body and teachers with his cold gaze while enchanting the females (save Valerie and Sam Manson) with his good looks. He was occasionally nice to her, buying her coffee or signing her in when she was just a few minutes late.

Apparently, to the kids, that meant they were most certainly, without a doubt, dating.

Valerie glared at her. “Prinny, go sit down.”

“Oh come on, Ms. G,” whined Prinny. “Don’t you and Mr. Masters do anything romantic for each other?”

“Oh! He could buy you a wall of orchids like Kanye did for Kim! It was so romantic!” chimed in Bethany.

A wave yeahs echoed throughout the classroom. Valerie huffed. “Guys, for the last time-.”

“Hey, Ms. G,” shouted Trey from the back. “Instead of working on this stupid essay can we come up with baby names for you guy’s kid? Best one gets five extra credit points.”

“Lemme go first,” said Jordan. “Adrian. Works for boys and girls!”

“Jaxon,” said Megan without looking up from her paper.

“Paris, like my baby sister,” said Hampton.

“I say Rebecca if it’s a girl,” said Jazlyn. “Monty if it’s a boy.”

Luther turned around. “Who the fuck names their baby Monty?”

“Hey! All of you, hush!” hissed Valerie. The excitement in the room died down a bit. “A, I’m not pregnant, and B, even if I was, I would never, ever, have a baby with Mr. Masters.”

“Ms. Gray, you wound me,” said a baritone voice from the doorway. Valerie inwardly cringed as she turned to face the cause of her troubles.

Dan Masters leaned against her doorframe, coffee mug in hand and papers tucked underneath his arm. “I don’t think our child would be that ugly,” he said with a smirk as he waltzed into her classroom.

The students, afraid they’d ruin the moment, kept their mouths shut as they watched the scene unfold.

“Mr. Masters, I’m sure our hypothetical child would be incredibly cute as all babies are-.”

His nose wrinkled. “Have you seen Foley’s baby pictures?”

“-but you are interrupting my class.”

“With a good reason.” Dan removed the papers from underneath his arm and placed them on her desk. “You know that field trip to the Shelly Opera House that you were trying to plan?”

Valerie squinted her eyes. “Yeah? Why?”

“It’s covered. All of it. I even got the date you wanted.”

Valerie looked down at the papers, reading the word Hamlet in big, bold letters. She scanned the page a bit more, realizing that he’d even managed to get the kids free admission and a time to talk with the actors after the play was over.

Valerie gawked at him. “Are you serious?”

Dan sipped his coffee. “Very.”

Valerie jumped up. “Holy crap, I can’t believe this! I’ve been trying to get this going for months! How did you manage this?”

“I know some people, who know some people, who know a person, who knows the owner of the Shelly Opera House.” He pretended to think for a minute. “Also money.”

Valerie pulled him into the hug, surprising both her students and Dan. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is gonna be perfect since we start Hamlet next week!”

Dan prayed that his blush wasn’t visible to the kids. “You’re welcome, Ms. Gray.”

Valerie pulled away, still beaming at Dan until-.

“Psst. Ms. Gray,” stage whispered Trey.

Valerie sighed and turned her attention back to her students, who were all giddy and gossiping amongst themselves. “Yes, Trey?”

“I think this is romantic gift from Masters,” he stage whispered. “You should give him a blow-.”

“Office. Now,” Valerie hissed. A chorus of Oh’s filled the class.

Trey jumped. “Aw what?! I was trying help Masters!”

“No you weren’t because I’m leaving,” said Dan as he walked out the classroom.

“Bye, Mr. Masters,” said most of the girls in unison.

As Valerie wrote Trey’s pass, she couldn’t help but wonder why he did that for her? Of all people?

As much she hated to admit it, Trey might have been right. Maybe this was his “orchid wall”.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Fifty-One (False)

Another day at Area 51, the most mysterious place in Nevada, right next to a casino in Reno I heard of once that gambles all in Pringles. One of the soldiers who guards the base with me told me about it.

“Hey Testosterone Juice, did you hear about that casino in Reno that gambles all in Pringles?” One of the soldiers asked me.

“Actually, the T stands for Testicle now and the J stands for Juggler. So I’m Testicle Juggler Maxx, at your service.”

“Oh, my bad! It’s hard to keep track at these things! Anyway, it makes me happy when I tell people about that casino, so have you heard?”

“That’s okay! I just have to make sure people know how much I drink testosterone. Because I’m man…lee. I think that’s what the adverb is. Man Lee. He was a famous guy, right?”

“Err...you could just say you’re on T like some of the guys around here.”

“Nah! I’m on Vitamin H – the ‘H’ stands for ‘Happy’.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, TJ!”

“No, I’m happy you’re happy that I’m happy!” I slapped his back. Not to worry, we did that all the time. There would be no injuries.

We stared at each other. His name was...Frank? No. No it wasn’t. To be frank, I was just bad at names.

“To answer your question, no, I haven’t heard of that casino in Reno, but if it makes you happy to tell me, tell me all you want!”

Yeah, that’s usually how it went down here. No aliens or nothing, just a buncha guys being pals. Yeah, they were all “soldiers”, in quotation marks, because if you wanted to get technical, so was I, but all of our armor and weapons and shit were just for show. We already had automatic turrets to stop any would-be intruders. Not to mention drones that patrolled the area. If that wasn’t enough, there was the talented Mavis Beacon who sat in front of her computer in her little room with all her gadgets where she watched the vicinity outside the facility to let us all know if anyone was about to try to break in.

That never really happened.

There was that whole “raid area 51” thing a year back, but if I recall, no one even came close to shooting distance, and it all turned into some party. I would’ve loved to have gone, but sadly us workers had to stay inside the facility at all times. If only they knew there weren’t any aliens and most of the time we just held parties and bantered with each other.

“Hey Mavis!” I shouted into the little speakers in my Prinny armor. “How are you today?”

“Same as any other day,” she replied, her voice a syrupy monotone. “But as long as I have my beef jerky, I’m good to go.”

“Are you happy?” I asked, as I already sported a grin even though I didn’t know how she would answer.

“Yeah, I guess, I mean, it’s boring here most the time, but as long as everyone knows that I’m the best around here at what I do, that’s good enough for me.”

She probably shrugged, but I couldn’t see, so it wasn’t like I could tell.

“Does being the best at what you do make you happy?”

“It’s better than the alternative. I swear, if there was someone who managed to break into here and get past my defenses, I’d go feral. I work super hard to get where I am and I want everyone to know that.”

“Glad that’s never happened, then!” I beamed. “Still, makes you wonder how things might have gone had that situation did occur.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to stay in the realm of reality. My reality, anyway. Maybe I’m not dominating some girl right now, but at least I can hold my own and everyone acknowledges me.”

“Would you like to be dominating some girl right now?”

I heard spit over the speaker.

“I’m happy where I’m at,” she said at last.

“Me too! I’m happy we’re such good friends!”

What a nice day it was. Just like every day was. We were all basking in our joy with each other like a nice, happy family. Something I was quite happy about. Speaking of family, I went over to the room where my two ‘dads’ were: Private Goodwill and Sgt. Michaels.

“Hey Goodwill! Are you happy?” I barged in.

“I would be, if Michaels over here would stop talking about his goddamn mustache for one second.”

“What did I tell you about barging in, Pvt. TJ Maxx?” He barked.

“Knock and say ‘please may I enter’?” I asked, with a cutesy voice to boot.

“Yeah! But I’ll let it slide today, because I’m happy.”

“Ooh! Tell me more!”

Sgt. Michaels stroked his mustache.

“I’ve been stroking my mustache all day. It feels so good how thick it can get. So warm in my hand. Stroking my mustache makes me so happy that as long as nothing interrupts that, I can tolerate anything.”

“I love your mustache too! Not because you have one, but because it makes you happy!”

Goodwill leaned over in his chair, his elbow over some of the buttons and keys on the console next to him. Hope he didn’t launch a few missiles just now, but if he did, I at least hoped those missiles had smiley faces on them.

“Have you finished your daily patrol, TJ?” He sounded disinterested in the question, but he seemed to want to seem at least a little bit serious about his job.

“Nope! Not at all! Just wanted to say hi!”

“Okay, well, good to see ya, bud.”

“I’m happy to see you too!” I waved and left the room.

So there you have it: a day in the life of an Area 51 worker. No aliens, just happy people. Sometimes it felt like there was a guardian angel watching over me, but I was just happy.

[theshatteredrose]

Nugatory: The Secret War (Chapter 20) - Disgaea 5 Fanfiction

AN: Hope you enjoy reading :3c

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FFnet

-

Chapter 20:

Another day, another fresh set of injuries for ol’ Samuel, it seemed. But considering the power Brutus had at his disposal, he got off lucky. He appeared more interested in throwing his weight around rather than throwing punches, which was immensely fortunate for him.

And for the Pocket Netherworld.

Slight damage had been done to the main bridge when Brutus made his grand, explosive entrance. And a few of their rebels had been injured as they attempted to capture him, or at least subdue him. But they were all thrown back, with little effort.

Only Samuel succeeded in subduing him long enough for Prinny to open a portal for him to drag him through. And he only succeeded in doing so because he had countless years of experience dealing with ‘enhanced’ victims.

He just wished he knew how Brutus came across his Seedling. No, who gave it to him.

Brutus used the word ‘enhancement’. That was no coincidence. Only those who resided in Nugatory and had dealt with Seedlings knew to use the word ‘enhanced’ to describe those inflicted.

But why would anyone who had witnessed a victim’s death willingly inflict it onto others?

Walking into his shared bedroom, Samuel resisted the urge to sigh and to clutch his forehead. His head was starting to positively ache. It was hardly a surprise. After endless days of struggling to recall his memories, they came rushing back in a single encounter.

They were real. Everything he had struggled with, what he thought may be false or imprinted upon him by outside forces were true.

And he wished they weren’t.

As if the war currently plaguing the Netherverse wasn’t bad enough.

“Samuel,” Killia said his name as he closed the room to their room tightly. “Why didn’t you mention any of this to me before?”

That was a fair question.

Samuel turned to him and gave him an apologetic smile. “Because I wasn’t sure if my memories were real or not. Nugatory, Seedlings, Halflings; they were considered nothing more than myths and legends to the rest of the Netherverse. And I was just dropped into a world I didn’t know, in the middle of a war, with a head injury. Nothing made sense.”

As terrible as it would be to say aloud, but if he did not have a war to busy himself with, he would have been at a lost as to what to do. No pun intended. He would have been more afraid, more frantic than he outwardly appeared.

Instead, he had something to focus his mind on. He had someone to follow.

If he hadn’t met Killia…

“If I told you all of this without having seen it with your own eyes, would you have believed me?” Samuel asked.

Killia gazed silently at him for a moment before he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Forgive me, it does sound a little unbelievable.”

Samuel chuckled, trailing his fingers along the sling carrying his right arm. “No, it’s fine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard before.”

Even if Samuel was certain that his memories were true and real, he had no reason to burden Killia with them. As far as he knew, the Seedlings and Snap Draingons were confined to Nugatory. And he did not know the location of said Netherworld. With the war spreading across the entirety of the Netherverse, it was best that Samuel did not attempt to search for Nugatory, lest any of the Lost Army followed him.

As far as he knew, Nugatory and Seedlings were isolated.

Not until he heard of those rumours.

“Killia.” Samuel turned to stand before Killia. “If rumours are correct, then several demons and overlords have already perished to these Seedlings. I need to find these Snap Draingons. You have your own troubles to think of.”

“You can’t go off on your own,” Killia replied sternly. “Not after what you’ve said to me.”

“But…” Samuel sighed, giving a slow shake of his head as a small smile appeared on his lips. “That makes me a hypocrite, I know.”

He may need to be one, though.

“Yet, you’re under enough stress,” he said as he stepped closer. “What happened today is proof of that.”

Killia winced and immediately turned his head away, to look down toward the floor. Shame and guilt in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Samuel whispered.

Killia shook his head. “No. I’m the one who should be apologising. I’ve done nothing but drag into one dangerous situation after another. Into a war you have absolutely no stakes in. Only recently has it truly occurred to me that, I…”

Samuel fell silent, noting that Killia’s hands were curled tightly into fists by his sides. His brow was creased into a frown, scowling at the floor in a display of self-loathing. It was…painful to see.

“…You thought I died?”

“I did.”

“I’m sorry.” Samuel stepped forward and thumped his forehead against Killia’s shoulder, startling the other man. “I just wanted to ease your burdens. I just made things worse.”

Killia tensed against him, only to utter a sigh a moment later and relax. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said as he gingerly placed a hand against the back of Samuel’s head.

“…Killia, I know about your other self.”

“Yeah, Christo told me. How did you know?”

Samuel hid a small smile. “He revealed himself to me.”

Killia turned his head toward him. “What?”

“It happened one night a while ago,” Samuel explained. “After you learnt of the scars on my back. Killidia wanted to know who gave them to me. I couldn’t answer at the time. He wanted to know so he could hunt down and kill those responsible. Then, you rolled over and went back to sleep.”

“Th-that’s it?”

“That was it.”

Samuel lifted his head from Killia’s shoulder, slipped his arm from his sling and with his hands, framed Killia’s face gently, so that he could look him in the eyes. So that his next words resonated with him, to show him that he meant them with every fibre of his being.

“Killia, whether it’s you or Killidia, you could never, ever do anything to hurt me. That’s why I trust you so much. Why I am going to war for you. Whether you are willing to believe it or not, you have a heart of gold and I will fight for you. Remember that.”

Samuel let his hands drop away from Killia’s face, his fingertips trailing softly over his cheeks and along his jawline. He took a step back. Killia was shocked, speechless, an array of differing emotions. His mind likely reeling, not knowing how to respond.

“Let’s both try to get some sleep,” Samuel suggested. “It’s been a hell of a day for the both of us.”

“Y-yeah.”

Samuel glanced over at his bed as he slipped off his boots. He should probably just climb into his own bed and go to sleep. But a quiet, more devious side to him…

He slipped the sling over his head and idly tossed it onto his bed as he made his way over to Killia’s. He grabbed the blankets and pulled them back, feeling Killia’s confused gaze boring into the back of his head. His gaze increasing when he slipped beneath said blankets.

“What-?”

“I need to make sure you get a proper sleep without Killidia disturbing you,” Samuel interrupted, scooting across the mattress to press his back against the wall next to the bed.

Killia didn’t verbally respond, and Samuel didn’t dare risk glancing over at him, lest he gave away the deep flush that was sure to be dusting his cheeks. He seemed to get his answer when Killia turned off the light to the room.

He was greatly relieved that Killia climbed into bed next to him. It would be humiliating should Killia choose to sleep in his bed instead.

Samuel settled on his side, his head resting on the pillow next to Killia’s. He knew that he should be attempting to sleep. But there was something else he wanted to speak with Killia about.

“Killia?”

“Hm?”

“I also need to find a way back to Nugatory somehow, without the Lost knowing.”

Resting on his back, Killia lolled his head to the side to look at him. Not even the darkness of the room could dim the intensity of his honey golden eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He needed to return. “The other halflings. I need to get back to them. I was…I was their caretaker, too. I was often the one who was left to…raise them, you know. When children came in, ripped from their parents’ arms. Even babies. I raised most of them.”

Killia rolled onto his side so that they were lying face to face. “How long have you been in Nugatory?”

Samuel gave a small shake of his head. “I have absolutely no idea. Time means nothing there.”

“Do you know where Nugatory is?”

Samuel closed his eyes. “…Above the Netherverse, under Celestia, and separated from Earth.” He opened his eyes again and gave a rueful shake of his head. “That’s all I know. Nugatory is a hollow Netherworld. We lived underground. Closed off, away from everyone, everything else.”

That was likely on purpose.

A laugh of self-loathing suddenly bubbled up from Samuel’s throat. “Well, it explains why I never really fit in here. And why everything is so foreign to me.”

“I wish I had known sooner,” Killia said. “You had been struggling this entire time.”

“And you haven’t?” Samuel promptly returned. “We’ve all struggled in our own ways, for our own reasons.”

Killia rolled his eyes. “As usual, you’re quick to push aside your own pain.”

“As you are.”

“I guess so.”

Samuel frowned; his eyes downcast. “The other halflings…must still be suffering. I feel so guilty. In many different ways. This war, it has allowed me to see the Netherverse I would otherwise not see, and I am finding peace and happiness being with you and the others. All the while others are suffering.”

He ran a hand over his face.

“I truly am an abomination.”

Killia suddenly reached out to him, slipping his arms around him and pulled him toward him. Against his chest. Holding him closely. Almost…tenderly. Desperately. “Don’t think like that.”

Samuel’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as his heart did something he hadn’t felt before in his life; both quickened and skipped a beat. His arms instinctively moved to touch Killia in return, but he held himself back because he…shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

But…he slipped his arms around Killia’s waist and hugged him back, pressing his cheek against his chest to listen to his heartbeat. He knew it was wrong. He shouldn’t. Killia’s heart belonged to another.

Yet…just for the night, it wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

“…Do you think Halflings have a place in the Netherverse?” Samuel asked with a whisper.

“Yes,” Killia immediately replied, resolutely. “Everyone has the right to live. Especially you.”

He hoped so…

… … … … …

Samuel hadn’t realised how good it felt to have a decent night sleep. And from what he could tell, Killia had slept well as well. While Samuel awoke a couple of times due to the low ache in his arms, each time Killia had been sound asleep.

Good. That was such a relief.

With his arm in a sling, Samuel had been prevented from helping in breakfast duties, and while others may rejoice at being given time off, it made him realise how much he had come to rely on keeping himself busy.

Doing nothing but being left alone with his thoughts was not something he found partially pleasing.

So, he ducked into the kitchen to steal a couple of sardines before heading toward the main bridge. Surprisingly, the damage that had been caused yesterday had already been patched up. No doubt by Seraphina’s orders. Although, he couldn’t rule out the other rebels’ desires to be useful as well.

Climbing the stairs, his gaze fell upon the very one he was looking for; their dimensional gate guardian.

To him, sardines did not feel like they were enough, but he knew how much Prinnies enjoyed their sardines.

“Prinny, here; sardines,” Samuel said as he handed to him the carton of fishes. “You were very brave opening and shutting that dimensional portal for me.”

The Prinny took the carton into his two flippers but looked up at him with a rather blank gaze. “…I don’t deserve these, dood.”

Samuel blinked. That was a surprise. He’d figured that the Prinny would be overjoyed with his gift as Prinnies in generally didn’t receive that many. “Pardon?”

“I opened the portal before six minutes, dood.”

Oh. Feeling bad about disobeying orders, perhaps?

Samuel tilted his head to the side questioningly, holding a small smile. “Well, why did you?”

“Because, dood.” Prinny’s eyes suddenly became wide and watery. “Because I didn’t want you to die, dood!”

“I see.” Samuel chuckled and patted Prinny on the head. “Then, thank you. You opening the portal may have saved my life. You deserve these sardines. So, enjoy them with the confidence that you’re a valuable member of the Rebel Army.”

After spending a moment reassuring the Prinny that he did the right thing, Samuel wandered over to the main console. Christo usually manned the geographical terminal at the main console, but he seemed to be absent at the moment. So, Samuel took the opportunity to plonked himself down into the high-backed chair to study the maps and atlases.

The Netherverse was truly extensive and immense, wasn’t it?

…Nugatory could be any one of those little white dots in the distance.

It could even be purposely hiding itself. Or someone else was.

As important as it was for him to return to Nugatory, there was another issue that was plaguing him; the Seedlings. Rather, the aftermath of the Seedlings; the Snap Draingons. But, if they were having a hard time locating the magical spears, then the Snap Draingons were to be even more difficult.

But it wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it?

He turned to one of the few Prinnies that were loitering about the area, designated to assist with any request. “I know I may be asking for the impossible here, but is it possible to search for specific plant-life or monsters from here?”

“If you’re asking about the Snap Draingons, Christo has already made a request, dood,” the Prinny unexpectedly revealed. “We’re also filtering any gossip about any unusual deaths here, dood.”

“I see, thank you.”

Ah, good ol’ Christo. Samuel didn’t know the circumstances of why he was in the Netherverse, but thank Celestia that he was. They’d be lost without him.

No pun intended.

“You’re searching for Snap Draingons?”

Samuel pivoted the chair around as Killia approached him. “I’m not going after them,” he immediately reassured. He couldn’t help but sigh as he turned the chair back around to look toward the hologram charts once more. “I just…want to know how many there are. Their existence equates to…how many lives have been taken. Snap Draingons can only exist after they find a host. Only after they destroyed a host.”

Brutus would have just been one more unknown, unnamed victim if he hadn’t attacked the Pocket Netherworld.

Yet, in his death, Samuel had been made aware of the existence of Seedlings out in the Netherverse. They shouldn’t existence outside of Nugatory. How and why they were, he needed to find out.

But first, he had others he needed to protect.

Samuel turned his head toward Killia who had moved to stand beside him. “Has everyone in the Rebel Army learnt of the Seedlings and Snap Draingons?”

“We’ve sent out information to be on the lookout for them,” Killia revealed. “And to be careful.”

That was the best he could hope for.

“We got a couple of hits, dood,” a Prinny suddenly stated.

Samuel sat forward in his chair. “Where?”

“A couple of Netherworlds we’ve yet to investigate, dood.”

A couple new images flickered onto the monitors before him. Images of Netherworlds he did not know or recognise. Not that he would, of course.

Killia placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll send a couple of our Rebels down to have a look.”

Samuel trailed a finger along the edge of the sling cradling his right arm. “Don’t send any Prinnies. Their souls are on the line if they become victims.”

They needed their souls intact if they wanted to redeem themselves and be reincarnated upon Earth once more.

Looking down at his arm, Samuel mused whether or not he would have gone and investigated even if he wasn’t injured. It was his duty, his life purpose really, to hunt down Seedlings and Snap Draingons, and destroy them. He had done so his entire life. What those around him had done. What others had died doing.

Yet, that wasn’t his only responsibility anymore.

Samuel placed a hand on the arm of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. Killia regarded him curiously as he stepped toward him. “Killia, as dangerous as these Snap Draingons are, you’re my first priority. I’ll help you with Killidia first.”

Killia’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in surprise. He soon pressed his lips together as his eyes darted to the side, looking toward the floor in an expression that could only be described as guilt. “…I’ll repay you somehow,” he promised.

Samuel shook his head with a small smile on his lips. “You’ve already done enough for me.” His smile faltered as he did a half turn to look toward the monitors once more. “Although, if these reports are correct, things are going to get a lot worse.”

“It’s possible that the Lost have no idea what they’re dealing with, and they’re just using them as sacrificial lambs,” Killia mused aloud.

Samuel sat himself back down into the chair. “Seems counterintuitive, with Void gathering energy. The Snap Draingons are dedicated to the Tree of Death, so they are stealing the same energy he wants. Not even he can change that.”

If anything, Void might want to destroy them for getting in his way.

“We can only hope he has no idea what they are, then,” Killia said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Something, or maybe someone else is involved.”

Yeah, that was his greatest fear…

“Ah, Killia, a new magical spear has been located, dood!”

Killia squared his shoulders as he turned his attention to the Prinny. “Where?”

“A small Netherworld called Flowerful, dood.”

Killia’s eyes suddenly widened as the colour drained from his face. “Flowerful…?”

[theshatteredrose]

It’s Come to This? - Disgaea 5 Fanfiction

Summary: The request to stand guard outside the baths by his warrior teammate was an unexpected request for Killia. Equally unexpected was the battle with a perverted ninja that soon followed.

AN: This is just a humorous skit with Killia and a couple of my characters. Had to write it. Too much fun not to. Enjoy~

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Boss? Can I ask a favour of ya?”

Killia immediately turned in the direction of the voice. Though he didn’t need to lay eyes on the demon that called to him to know who it was. Samuel, the purple-haired warrior, was the only one that referred to him as Boss. In an endearing manner, at least.

He was the first demon Killia had hired. He was happy to be of help. And he had been through every battle since. Ready for battle at short notice. He had been a great asset on the battlefield. Off it, too.

It was, however, not common for the warrior to ask for favours.

“Hm? What is it?” Killia asked.

“Well, it's kinda awkward,” Samuel started as he rubbed the back of his neck in a slightly awkward manner. “But I kinda need you to stand guard in front of the baths for me.”

Killia was honestly surprised by the request. “Why?”

Samuel’s expression unexpectedly turned dark and he dropped his arm to his side. “Cpt Chop Chop,” he hissed.

Killia was only half surprised at that reaction. Samuel got along with everyone. Everyone but him. “The ninja?”

“The guy's a paparazzi,” Samuel practically spat. “He's been chasing me around for ages in hopes of getting some of those scandalous pictures so he can put them in that dirty magazine of his.”

Samuel paused for a second. No doubt attempting to reign in his anger. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. But as he did so, he winced. “I can't remember the last time I was able to relax properly,” he revealed as he idly rolled his left shoulder. “And after that last battle, I need to get the ol' muscles to relax, ya know?”

Killia took a moment to carefully study the demon before him. And he could see that Samuel was telling the truth. He appeared tense, stiff even. Worn out and tired.

“I see,” Killia said before he became curious. “Why me, though?”

Samuel blinked, genuinely puzzled. “Huh? Why not? I trust ya, ain't that enough?”

At first, Killia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He trusted him? No questions asked. No hesitation in his response. He trusted him. Out of everyone.

Huh. For some reason that really got to him.

“I guess I could help you out,” Killia returned.

And the smile on Samuel’s face was bemeaning. “Aw, Boss, that's great! Thanks so much!”

Killia felt a small smile tug at his lips at the other demon’s enthusiasm.

Samuel continued to express his gratitude as Killia escorted him toward the baths within their Pocket Netherverse. As they walked, Samuel told him a few stories about Cpt Chop Chop’s persistence. His indignation at the ninja was palpable.

“Don't let anyone else but Vince in, ok?” Samuel instructed when they reached the baths. “He's a good guy.”

“Sure,” Killia simply responded.

“Thanks again, Boss!” Samuel said cheerfully before he turned and disappeared through the doors that led to the baths.

Killia then turned his back toward the entrance and looked out. He glanced around idly as he folded his arms loosely over his chest.

He had to admit that he wondered if Samuel was just being paranoid. He had heard about Cpt Chop Chop’s magazine. And about his dedication to getting rare and “exquisite” photos. But surely, he wasn’t using actual stalking tactics? And he wasn’t willing to stalk someone into the baths, right?

Killia was pulled from his thoughts when he felt someone approach. He looked over to find a marital artist. Grey-white hair, blue jacket. It was Vince. The second demon that Killia had hired just as the Rebel Army was in it’s fledging state. He, too, had been through every battle since. Working closely with Samuel.

Only…

He moved to step in front of Vince as he headed toward the baths. “Hm? You?”

Vince paused to regard him curiously. “You can let me through,” he said. “Samuel told you about me, yes? I'm Vince.”

Killia narrowed his eyes. “...No, you're not.”

He then threw a punch at him.

He managed to hit him square in the chest. And as his fist made contact, Not-Vince unexpectedly disappeared in a puff of smoke. As Killia pulled back his hand, a shadowy figure leapt backwards from the smoke and landed crouched on the ground some feet away.

As he waited for the smoke to clear, Killia glanced over his shoulder to ensure that no one had snuck up behind him before he turned his attention forward once more. And there was Cpt Chop Chop. Just like Samuel had feared.

Cpt Chop Chop stayed in his crouched position for a moment, no doubt sizing Killia up before he abruptly stood tall. “You saw through my clever ruse? I see I have quite the formable opponent on my hands.”

Killia blinked before he frowned. “...You're really trying to get that photo, huh?”

“Of course!” Cpt Chop Chop exclaimed without hesitation (or shame) and with fire burning in his eyes. “Do you have any idea how much money I could make with that photo? I'll print limited edition copies. The centrefold would be the censored version. Those thirsty fanboys and fangirls would pay more for the unedited edition. I'd be rich. Rich I tell you! Richer than I already am. I will become the richest demon throughout the entire Netherverse!”

As Cpt Chop Chop’s rant progressed, Killia felt his eye twitch increase in speed. “...I have the really strong urge to punch you in the face.”

“I have that effect on demons,” Cpt Chop Chop replied calmly, and with a sagely nod of his head.

The urge to sigh in exasperation was strong. “That's not something you should be proud of,” Killia retorted before he shook his head and pulled his body into a defensive stance. “In anycase, I won't let you pass. Even demons should have morals.”

Cpt Chop Chop unexpectedly held his chin in a musing posture. He even made a humming noise in an attempt to appear as if he was considering something important. “This scenario is the perfect gossip fuel, I must admit,” he stated. “The one and only Sir Killia bravely guarding warrior Samuel's chastity. My faithful readers are sure to love it.”

Killia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He had never had the pleasure to read that “Nether Gossip Magazine”. He had heard about it. But never seen it. And from what he just heard; he didn’t want to know what was in that magazine.

No wonder Samuel wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being the centrefold.

“But I must have that photo even more,” Cpt Chop Chop stated in a firm voice as he readied himself for possible (more like inevitable) battle. “You can either join dear ol' Samuel in that bath so I can get an even more scandalous photo, or I will not hesitate to strike you down here and now.”

Killia took a second to consider his options. And this time he couldn’t prevent himself from sighing aloud. “...It's really going to come to this, is it?”

“I see,” Cpt Chop Chop muttered, his eyes narrowed. He suddenly clicked his fingers. “Prinnies.”

As several blue prinnies twirled and waddled into view at Cpt Chop Chop’s command, Killia raised a questioning eyebrow. “Prinnies?”

“He pays more than Miss Seraphina, dood,” one of the prinnies answered simply. And, really, that was all that needed to be said.

Killia couldn’t really fault a prinnie’s way of thinking. “To be fair I think anyone would. Either way...”

A suddenly spike in power caused Killia to forget what he was about to say and he turned his attention to Cpt Chop Chop once more. And he had to admit that he was surprised to find him already in full revenge mode.

Wait…there was something else.

“Wait, are you an overlord?” Killia found himself asking, extremely puzzled.

Cpt Chop Chop folded his arms over his chest and nodded his head. “Indeed. Overlord of Nether Gossip Magazine.”

Overlord of a gossip magazine…Sure, why not. Not the strangest thing he had encountered.

Killia sighed once again before he pulled his body into a battle stance. “I’ll make this quick.”

… … … … …

That battle lasted a little longer than Killia had expected.

He kinda felt sorry for the prinnies. They were just doing what they had been hired to do. But he had to wonder if they, too, were complicit in Cpt Chop Chop’s…business, as it were. They fought surprisingly valiantly. So, their paycheques must be impressive.

Which was somewhat concerning. How much money was that ninja gaining through the sales of his magazines?

Either way, Killia wasn’t about to let Samuel down. So, he did what needed to be done.

Cpt Chop Chop dramatically spat out a mouthful of blood as he wiped his chin with the back of his right hand. “This is not the end...” he muttered before he collapsed to the ground, face first, and became completely still.

Killia spent a moment to stare down at the near-corpse on the ground. He had to admit that he did find a small bit of pleasure finally punching the perverted ninja in the face. But…

He sighed loudly while his shoulders sagged from sheer exasperation. “It really came to that...”

A battle. With prinnies. In order to stop them, and their “overlord” from sneaking into the baths to take photos.

Cpt Chop Chop may not have been an actual Overlord, but he certainly fought like he was. He was a determined and dedicated paparazzo.

…Killia really didn’t want to know how much money he had thanks to his magazine.

“Hey, Boss?”

Killia straightened his posture and turned around to find Samuel behind him. He appeared fresh out of the baths, and looked a lot more relaxed then he was before he went in.

“Thanks for guarding the place,” Samuel said with a big smile and genuine gratitude in his voice. “I really appreciate it. I haven't been able to relax like that in a long time!”

“Ah, sure, no problem,” Killia replied.

For some reason, hearing the true gratitude in Samuel’s voice made the battle he had just endured worthwhile.

The smile on Samuel’s faltered after a moment and he tilted his head to the side in question. “Hm? Hey, Boss; you need to use the baths, too? You look kinda tired there.”

Killia briefly wondered if Samuel could see the mangled corpse. Or if he was simply ignoring it. “It's nothing,” he replied before he felt silent as a thought occurred to him. “But...I guess now would be a good time.”

Samuel nodded his head in approval. “Want me to stand guard?”

A half smiled twitched onto Killia’s lips. “I don't think that will be necessary.”

However, that smile faded when he heard laughter behind him. Soft, muffled laughter. Smug laughter. And he immediately knew who it was.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, just as Cpt Chop Chop pushed himself, menacingly, to his feet. And took on a purely power stance.

“Fufufu. Fools. You think they can get rid of me that easily? How can I when the ultimate prize is right in front of me?”

Samuel bristled while Killia sighed in exasperation. The guy was tough, he’d give him that.

He’d also happily give him a kick in the ribs. Or three.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal Romance AU fanfic

16 Applewood Manor

The Court moves to Applewood where Charlotte receives some help from Maxwell and relives a happy memory thanks to Drake.

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16 Applewood Manor

After the Regatta, the Court was scheduled to visit Applewood, where Charlotte had spent many happy summers as a child along with Drake and Savannah and Olivia, with various other noble children visiting. Maxwell had joined in her carefree summers along with occasional visits from Tariq, but after the debacle with the trifle at her birthday party Neville had not been allowed to visit – and she was glad of that.

Constantine had kept to his promise and sent her papers to sign at night as they decamped to Rashad’s Manor in Domvalier. First of the suitors to visit her to assist was that same odious Neville. He had made it plain that he favoured spending on various noble ventures and baulked at supporting funding on Cordonia’s orphanage and women’s refuge. She had expected nothing less and was relieved to have a good reason to reject his help and report to Constantine on his unbalanced support of Cordonia’s citizens. She had little time to spend for private socialising, having to attend a charity event and award prizes and trophies for the boat and yacht races of the previous day. There was also a formal dinner just before she had to see to the papers with Neville, so that night she fell into bed and slept soundly. The following day was spent packing and travelling to Applewood. Still Constantine insisted that she work though official documents and this time Maxwell Beaumont was sent in to assist.

She was feeling tired when Maxwell bounced into the study in the King’s suite at Applewood. He leant over her at the desk and gave her a peck on the cheek.

‘Hey Prinny, I bought supplies’ he announced, producing a bottle of champagne from behind his back ‘Bastien was supposed to frisk me, but he let this through. Sorry I don’t have any glasses’ Charlotte smiled at him and downed the glass of water on the desk.

‘I’ll use this, and you can drink from the bottle’ she said ‘It’s a good job we don’t have any weapons in here, your usual method of opening the bottle might make a mess of the papers.’

‘Good point’ he said, ‘Just how do you open a bottle without a sabre or an axe?’

‘Hand it over’ she said, putting the glass down. She twisted off the metal cage and took hold of the cork, twisting the bottle so the cork came out with a soft pop. Although they were close to Constantine’s bedchamber, they were not immediately next door like on the yacht, so had a little more privacy – but the sound of a champagne cork would have alerted him to their indulgence. She poured herself a generous glass and handed the bottle to Maxwell.

‘So have you heard any any gossip, Maxxy?’ she asked, ‘anything useful about members of the Council?’

‘Well, Lord Percy has had a spat with his latest conquest – did you know he was having an affair with Lady Caroline?’ Charlotte’s eyes widened

‘But she’s ten years younger than him!’ she retorted, and Max pursed his lips

‘I know, he always goes for younger women. His wife is more interested in breeding Siamese cats and doesn’t suspect a thing’

‘That might give me leverage if I need his vote in Council later on’ she said thoughtfully and sighed as she looked at the papers. She picked out a file and opened it.

‘Here’s the arrangements for the Coronation ball. Apparently, the florist has had to pull out due to a family bereavement’ Max took it from her

‘Oh, we have someone who’s very good, does the arrangements for the Beaumont Bash – she’s not busy this year’

‘Isn’t she working for you?’ asked Charlotte, reaching for the bottle. Maxwell looked sheepish

‘We’ve – had to go for someone cheaper this year. Confidentially, finances are a bit tight for us’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that’ said Charlotte ‘I’m sure we could give you a little stipend in return for your recommendation, or ask her to do your event for a discount’ Maxwell’s face lit up

‘Oh, could you? That would be great. Bertrand’s been so stressed about it all’

‘No problem Maxxy, if you know a caterer for the tea party too that would be good, it seems a lot of small businesses are feeling the pinch this year, there’s been a lot of cancellations’

‘You know how we like to throw a good party, I’ve got lots of contacts’ he replied. Charlotte rifled through the papers.

‘There’s a few other things you could look over then’ she mused ‘can I pass these files on to you?’

‘Sure thing Prinny’ Maxwell grinned and poured more champagne for her. They remained silent for a little, reading and passing papers back and forth.

‘You know you should be calling me Queenie’ she said ruefully ‘I’ve barely had time to myself the last few days. It’s so nice of you to bring along that bottle, I didn’t dare touch a drop earlier in case I made a mistake with the delegates from Portavierra.’

Maxwell patted his jacket

‘Oh, I forgot – Drake gave me these – he said they’re your favourite’ and he pulled out a box of chocolate truffles ‘sorry, they’re a bit warm’ Charlotte smiled and took them from him.

‘That’s very thoughtful of him’ and she started to open it. Maxwell put out his hand

‘No - he said to open it when you’re alone’ She put it down on the desk, frowning.

‘That’s a little bold of him, he promised to take a back seat’ the young duke looked sad

‘I just think he wanted you to know he’s rooting for you’ he said quietly ‘we all are, we know how hard things are for you, me and him, and Olivia – and Brad’ Tears came to Charlotte’s eyes and she wiped at them with the back of her hand.

‘That – that’s very sweet of you Maxxy. I really appreciate it. I’d give anything to have an evening just to hang out with you all like old times.’

‘Do you remember that time Olivia told Savannah if she kissed a frog it would turn into a Prince?’ he grinned. Charlotte laughed.

‘Drake stopped her just in time, and he was so cross with Olivia he tried to hack off her ponytail with his penknife’

‘Drake’s Dad arrived just in time to stop it getting worse – he had to pull the two of them apart’ Maxwell chortled. Charlotte got up from her chair to throw her arms around him in a hug.

‘Thank you Maxxy, you were just what I needed to cheer me up. I wish I could have you with me every night while I go over these dratted documents’ Maxwell held her tight, patting her back and rocking side to side. After a while they broke the embrace and she sat back down again.

‘So who’s your companion tomorrow night?’ He asked, and she made a face

‘Tariq, I think. I can’t think how he’ll be any use at all unless it’s to organise a fashion show or fancy wine tasting. Father may let me off the day of the Apple fair, it will be going on very late with the Lord of Misrule this year.  I bet he didn’t think you’d be useful, but I’ll put in a good word for you, tell him you’ve been great’

‘Thanks Lottie. Can I do anything else? The bottle’s empty now’ Charlotte reached out and patted his hand.

‘You’ve been a huge help Maxxy, I still have to sign a stack of stuff, so you can go if you want’ The young Duke took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

‘Any time Lottie, just send me a message and I’ll be with you in a trice. You know me, speedy by name…’ He backed out of the office blowing her a kiss.

‘Thanks – hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow at the Apple fair?’

‘You will. Sleep tight Lottie’

Later, Charlotte stumbled into her bedroom and fell onto the bed, eyelids heavy. She realised she had tucked the box of chocolates from Drake into a pocket and the box was digging into her hip. Wearily she sat up and opened the box, inhaling the aroma of the chocolate. A slip of paper fell out onto the bed, and she picked it up. It bore only three words.

Remember the smores.

She smiled fondly and went to the window. She could see embers at the fire pit, fancying that she saw a shadow pass in front of it and was transported back into her teen years.

‘Do you like smores, Charlie?’ Drake had led her out to the fire pit a year after his father and her mother had died. She still missed her, but the pain was fading. They sat alone in the dusk as the light faded.

‘What are they?’ she asked

‘oh, they’re delicious – marshmallow, and crackers and chocolate. Dad – Dad used to make them when we went camping’ His voice had faltered when he mentioned his father. ‘you’d like them – would you like to try some?’

‘I’ve never been camping. Isn’t it cold sleeping outside?’ Drake smiled, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

‘Not if you have a good sleeping bag. It’s cosy’ he said. He gave her a stick and showed her how to toast the marshmallow. He put a few squares of chocolate onto a cracker and put it under the marshmallow, added more chocolate on the top with another cracker and slipped the stick out.

Oh – it’s sticky’ she exclaimed, as the chocolate and melting sticky marshmallow oozed out onto her fingers. She watched Drake open his mouth wide and bite it in half, and she tried to follow suit, but it was too big. She bit into it and the sticky sweet mess oozed out onto her fingers and lips. It was crunchy and chocolatey and soft and sweet. ‘Oh this tastes like heaven!’ she exclaimed, her mouth not empty yet. She rolled her eyes as the soft gooey centre coated her tongue and melted, and the tastes and textures assaulted her senses. She sucked her fingers as clean as she could in between messy mouthfuls, and Drake gave her another marshmallow to toast.

‘Careful, not too close or it’ll burn’ he said, and took her hand to move the stick away. She felt a little jolt of electricity and jumped. He looked at her oddly, and sheepishly took his hand back ‘you want it even, so keep turning it’ After a second one she declared she couldn’t eat any more.

‘I wish father would let me go camping’ she said, ‘He’d probably say it’s too dangerous’ Drake shrugged

‘You don’t have to go far. Perhaps he’d let you camp in the grounds, if Bastien supervised it’

‘Oh that would be amazing’ she said ‘I wish – what’s the matter?’ Drake was looking at her intently

‘Oh – er, you have some chocolate just above your lip’ he observed. Her hand flew up to her face.

‘Oh – where?’ she cried ‘Here?’

���No, just to the left – ah – let me…’ he moved closer and reached out his hand to brush his thumb over her top lip ‘Here’ he said. They were close, so close, she could smell the smores on his breath, and he didn’t move away again, gazing at her, his eyes flicking over her face. She realised she was holding her breath, and wondering what his lips tasted like, wondered if he might lick the chocolate from her lip.

‘Is – is it gone? She whispered

‘not quite’ he said, moving imperceptibly closer as if in a trance.

‘Walker! Princess? Where are you?’ She jumped back guiltily, and Drake stepped away swiftly at the sound of Bastien’s voice from the footpath by the palace. Drake collected himself, giving her an apologetic glance.

‘Here, Bas’ he shouted, ‘by the fire pit’ He wiped his hands on his trousers, and Charlotte licked her top lip and then wiped it with her handkerchief, her fingers still sticky. Bastein appeared, his dark eyes catching the firelight, and he gave Charlotte a searching look.

‘Are you alright, Princess?’ he asked ‘It’s very dark, you should go inside’ as she answered him her voice wavered a little

‘I’m – I’m fine thankyou Bastien. Drake was showing me how to make smores’ Bastien smiled.

‘That’s very generous of him. I’m rather partial to them myself’

‘I’ve still got some things left – can I make you one Bas?’ Drake said eagerly, the awkwardness of the moment disappearing.

‘No, its late Walker, you need to come in now’ He started to lead the two teenagers back to the palace. Drake hopped behind him like a faithful dog

‘Do you think the King would let Charlotte camp in the grounds if you were around to watch, Bas? She’s never been camping’ he asked.

‘I don’t know’ said Bastien ‘I’ll ask – or perhaps the Princess should say something’

‘If he knew you’d be there he might say yes’ Drake insisted

‘Perhaps. Now go and see Savannah, she wants to talk to you before she goes to bed’

Charlotte smiled at the memory, wondering if Bastien had seen it all and stepped in before they got in too deep at that tender age.  She drew the curtains, taking one last look at the embers of the fire outside, but it was too dark to see if anyone was out there.  She popped a chocolate into her mouth and stripped naked before crawling into bed. It was good to fall asleep with positive thoughts occupying her mind. Outside, Drake had seen her draw the curtains, and made his way back into the manor.

Brad woke in Olivia’s bed, her arm thrown over his chest, her breath warm on his neck.  He carefully untangled himself and got out of bed. He rubbed his neck, wincing at a bruise just below his collarbone. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and smirked at the bite mark on his shoulder. Olivia was as feisty in bed as she was out of it.

He sighed. He was going to have to tell Charlotte what was going on, it wasn’t fair otherwise, no matter how liberal Cordonia was. He just didn’t have it in him to be romancing (or bedding) two women at once, exciting though the thought might be. It wasn’t as if there was any real spark between them. He had had enough relationships to know when it was just physical and when there was an emotional attachment, or the possibility of one.

He feared Charlotte had been so starved of love and affection after the death of her mother that she didn’t know the difference herself.  Drake had obviously tried to fill that void, and to a greater extent for his sister too, and it had escalated to a more intimate relationship with Charlotte. The thought of a teenage boy trying to take over the role of mother both to his little sister and to a girl his own age filled him with pity. In turn, Bastien had filled in the role of father to the Walkers, providing a steady foundation for Drake. He didn’t think Constantine was half the paternal role model as the King’s Guardsman and he knew little of the role of the deceased Regina. Perhaps she had redressed the balance a little - Charlotte had never talked of her and he resolved to ask Olivia later.

For now, everyone would be preparing for the Apple fair. That normally called for the appointment of the Apple Queen, which would go ahead, but this year there would also be a Lord of Misrule picked from the suitors. It dated back to a pagan fertility ritual which was rarely invoked, but Constantine had declared it appropriate this year. Traditionally the Lord of Misrule turned everything upside down and reversed the roles of rulers and peasants. Most of the candidates were noble this year, but whatever rules they invoked would be in force until midnight. Because security was an issue each suitor had written their chosen rules and submitted them to Bastien for approval and he had not divulged the contents to anyone, not even the King.

For Charlotte, the day was a busy one, with preparations for the Apple fair which kept her busy, as at her father’s insistence she was closely involved in its organisation and had no spare time as there were also appointments with delegates and diplomats from Monaco there to discuss a trade agreement. The evening brought further duties with more paperwork and with Tariq to ‘help’ her. As she had guessed he was worse than useless – his mind would not settle on anything beyond clothes and fine wines, and he sat watching her pore over documents, drinking champagne and talking endlessly about his wine cellar. Charlotte was so tired afterwards that she failed to notice the firepit outside was again lit, and a shadowy figure stood there until she closed her curtains.

After breakfast the Court assembled out on the lawn where various marquees had been erected, and tents selling various delicacies and goods. The Lord of Misrule had already been chosen by secret ballot at the Regatta, the votes had been counted and kept in strict confidence save for the ballot counters and Bastien, and a few others who helped with planning. The King was to announce the winner, and the elected Lord would choose the Apple Queen from a group of local schoolchildren. Charlotte would still have a minor role as the Lady of Misrule.

Everyone assembled to hear the results, nobles and ordinary citizens mingling in a huge crowd. The suitors stood ready on the dais for the announcement, along with Constantine and Charlotte, Bastien and a number of aides. Anton stood next to Milo, then came Maxwell, Neville, Tariq, Rashad, Drake and finally Brad. The King appeared with an envelope and stepped up to the microphone. He cleared his throat.

‘Citizens of Cordonia, we are gathered today to celebrate Apple day, to bless the coming season and to hope for a good crop and the prosperity of all. This year, as you know, from the suitors for my daughter’s hand in marriage will be chosen as Lord of Misrule, who will rule in my stead for the remainder of the day, effective until midnight.’ He paused to look along the line of contenders ‘Each candidate has already submitted his rules for approval of the Royal Guard, to ensure maximum safety for all concerned. Minor alterations of these rules will be permitted, subject to approval of the Royal Guard. The winner will also choose this year’s Apple Queen from Cordonia Preparatory School, and my daughter, Queen in Waiting Charlotte will accompany the Lord of Misrule in his duties.’ The King looked down on the envelope he held and started to open it. Drake turned to Rashad and shook hands with him, mouthing ‘good luck’ and turned to do the same for Brad, causing a ripple of handshakes and back patting among the others.

‘Good luck to the contestants and may we all benefit from this day and learn from the experience, highborn and lowborn’ He took the piece of paper out and read it to himself, his lips moving before looking up and making his announcement…

Who is the Lord of Misrule? The people (some of the readers) have spoken! Stay tuned...

[jovialyouthmusic]

Charlotte’s Choice

A Royal Romance AU fanfic

16 Applewood Manor

The Court moves to Applewood where Charlotte receives some help from Maxwell and relives a happy memory thanks to Drake.

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16 Applewood Manor

After the Regatta, the Court was scheduled to visit Applewood, where Charlotte had spent many happy summers as a child along with Drake and Savannah and Olivia, with various other noble children visiting. Maxwell had joined in her carefree summers along with occasional visits from Tariq, but after the debacle with the trifle at her birthday party Neville had not been allowed to visit – and she was glad of that.

Constantine had kept to his promise and sent her papers to sign at night as they decamped to Rashad’s Manor in Domvalier. First of the suitors to visit her to assist was that same odious Neville. He had made it plain that he favoured spending on various noble ventures and baulked at supporting funding on Cordonia’s orphanage and women’s refuge. She had expected nothing less and was relieved to have a good reason to reject his help and report to Constantine on his unbalanced support of Cordonia’s citizens. She had little time to spend for private socialising, having to attend a charity event and award prizes and trophies for the boat and yacht races of the previous day. There was also a formal dinner just before she had to see to the papers with Neville, so that night she fell into bed and slept soundly. The following day was spent packing and travelling to Applewood. Still Constantine insisted that she work though official documents and this time Maxwell Beaumont was sent in to assist.

She was feeling tired when Maxwell bounced into the study in the King’s suite at Applewood. He leant over her at the desk and gave her a peck on the cheek.

‘Hey Prinny, I bought supplies’ he announced, producing a bottle of champagne from behind his back ‘Bastien was supposed to frisk me, but he let this through. Sorry I don’t have any glasses’ Charlotte smiled at him and downed the glass of water on the desk.

‘I’ll use this, and you can drink from the bottle’ she said ‘It’s a good job we don’t have any weapons in here, your usual method of opening the bottle might make a mess of the papers.’

‘Good point’ he said, ‘Just how do you open a bottle without a sabre or an axe?’

‘Hand it over’ she said, putting the glass down. She twisted off the metal cage and took hold of the cork, twisting the bottle so the cork came out with a soft pop. Although they were close to Constantine’s bedchamber, they were not immediately next door like on the yacht, so had a little more privacy – but the sound of a champagne cork would have alerted him to their indulgence. She poured herself a generous glass and handed the bottle to Maxwell.

‘So have you heard any any gossip, Maxxy?’ she asked, ‘anything useful about members of the Council?’

‘Well, Lord Percy has had a spat with his latest conquest – did you know he was having an affair with Lady Caroline?’ Charlotte’s eyes widened

‘But she’s ten years younger than him!’ she retorted, and Max pursed his lips

‘I know, he always goes for younger women. His wife is more interested in breeding Siamese cats and doesn’t suspect a thing’

‘That might give me leverage if I need his vote in Council later on’ she said thoughtfully and sighed as she looked at the papers. She picked out a file and opened it.

‘Here’s the arrangements for the Coronation ball. Apparently, the florist has had to pull out due to a family bereavement’ Max took it from her

‘Oh, we have someone who’s very good, does the arrangements for the Beaumont Bash – she’s not busy this year’

‘Isn’t she working for you?’ asked Charlotte, reaching for the bottle. Maxwell looked sheepish

‘We’ve – had to go for someone cheaper this year. Confidentially, finances are a bit tight for us’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that’ said Charlotte ‘I’m sure we could give you a little stipend in return for your recommendation, or ask her to do your event for a discount’ Maxwell’s face lit up

‘Oh, could you? That would be great. Bertrand’s been so stressed about it all’

‘No problem Maxxy, if you know a caterer for the tea party too that would be good, it seems a lot of small businesses are feeling the pinch this year, there’s been a lot of cancellations’

‘You know how we like to throw a good party, I’ve got lots of contacts’ he replied. Charlotte rifled through the papers.

‘There’s a few other things you could look over then’ she mused ‘can I pass these files on to you?’

‘Sure thing Prinny’ Maxwell grinned and poured more champagne for her. They remained silent for a little, reading and passing papers back and forth.

‘You know you should be calling me Queenie’ she said ruefully ‘I’ve barely had time to myself the last few days. It’s so nice of you to bring along that bottle, I didn’t dare touch a drop earlier in case I made a mistake with the delegates from Portavierra.’

Maxwell patted his jacket

‘Oh, I forgot – Drake gave me these – he said they’re your favourite’ and he pulled out a box of chocolate truffles ‘sorry, they’re a bit warm’ Charlotte smiled and took them from him.

‘That’s very thoughtful of him’ and she started to open it. Maxwell put out his hand

‘No - he said to open it when you’re alone’ She put it down on the desk, frowning.

‘That’s a little bold of him, he promised to take a back seat’ the young duke looked sad

‘I just think he wanted you to know he’s rooting for you’ he said quietly ‘we all are, we know how hard things are for you, me and him, and Olivia – and Brad’ Tears came to Charlotte’s eyes and she wiped at them with the back of her hand.

‘That – that’s very sweet of you Maxxy. I really appreciate it. I’d give anything to have an evening just to hang out with you all like old times.’

‘Do you remember that time Olivia told Savannah if she kissed a frog it would turn into a Prince?’ he grinned. Charlotte laughed.

‘Drake stopped her just in time, and he was so cross with Olivia he tried to hack off her ponytail with his penknife’

‘Drake’s Dad arrived just in time to stop it getting worse – he had to pull the two of them apart’ Maxwell chortled. Charlotte got up from her chair to throw her arms around him in a hug.

‘Thank you Maxxy, you were just what I needed to cheer me up. I wish I could have you with me every night while I go over these dratted documents’ Maxwell held her tight, patting her back and rocking side to side. After a while they broke the embrace and she sat back down again.

‘So who’s your companion tomorrow night?’ He asked, and she made a face

‘Tariq, I think. I can’t think how he’ll be any use at all unless it’s to organise a fashion show or fancy wine tasting. Father may let me off the day of the Apple fair, it will be going on very late with the Lord of Misrule this year.  I bet he didn’t think you’d be useful, but I’ll put in a good word for you, tell him you’ve been great’

‘Thanks Lottie. Can I do anything else? The bottle’s empty now’ Charlotte reached out and patted his hand.

‘You’ve been a huge help Maxxy, I still have to sign a stack of stuff, so you can go if you want’ The young Duke took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze.

‘Any time Lottie, just send me a message and I’ll be with you in a trice. You know me, speedy by name…’ He backed out of the office blowing her a kiss.

‘Thanks – hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow at the Apple fair?’

‘You will. Sleep tight Lottie’

 Later, Charlotte stumbled into her bedroom and fell onto the bed, eyelids heavy. She realised she had tucked the box of chocolates from Drake into a pocket and the box was digging into her hip. Wearily she sat up and opened the box, inhaling the aroma of the chocolate. A slip of paper fell out onto the bed, and she picked it up. It bore only three words.

Remember the smores.

She smiled fondly and went to the window. She could see embers at the fire pit, fancying that she saw a shadow pass in front of it and was transported back into her teen years.

‘Do you like smores, Charlie?’ Drake had led her out to the fire pit a year after his father and her mother had died. She still missed her, but the pain was fading. They sat alone in the dusk as the light faded.

‘What are they?’ she asked

‘oh, they’re delicious – marshmallow, and crackers and chocolate. Dad – Dad used to make them when we went camping’ His voice had faltered when he mentioned his father. ‘you’d like them – would you like to try some?’

‘I’ve never been camping. Isn’t it cold sleeping outside?’ Drake smiled, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

‘Not if you have a good sleeping bag. It’s cosy’ he said. He gave her a stick and showed her how to toast the marshmallow. He put a few squares of chocolate onto a cracker and put it under the marshmallow, added more chocolate on the top with another cracker and slipped the stick out.

Oh – it’s sticky’ she exclaimed, as the chocolate and melting sticky marshmallow oozed out onto her fingers. She watched Drake open his mouth wide and bite it in half, and she tried to follow suit, but it was too big. She bit into it and the sticky sweet mess oozed out onto her fingers and lips. It was crunchy and chocolatey and soft and sweet. ‘Oh this tastes like heaven!’ she exclaimed, her mouth not empty yet. She rolled her eyes as the soft gooey centre coated her tongue and melted, and the tastes and textures assaulted her senses. She sucked her fingers as clean as she could in between messy mouthfuls, and Drake gave her another marshmallow to toast.

‘Careful, not too close or it’ll burn’ he said, and took her hand to move the stick away. She felt a little jolt of electricity and jumped. He looked at her oddly, and sheepishly took his hand back ‘you want it even, so keep turning it’ After a second one she declared she couldn’t eat any more.

‘I wish father would let me go camping’ she said, ‘He’d probably say it’s too dangerous’ Drake shrugged

‘You don’t have to go far. Perhaps he’d let you camp in the grounds, if Bastien supervised it’

‘Oh that would be amazing’ she said ‘I wish – what’s the matter?’ Drake was looking at her intently

‘Oh – er, you have some chocolate just above your lip’ he observed. Her hand flew up to her face.

‘Oh – where?’ she cried ‘Here?’

‘No, just to the left – ah – let me…’ he moved closer and reached out his hand to brush his thumb over her top lip ‘Here’ he said. They were close, so close, she could smell the smores on his breath, and he didn’t move away again, gazing at her, his eyes flicking over her face. She realised she was holding her breath, and wondering what his lips tasted like, wondered if he might lick the chocolate from her lip.

‘Is – is it gone? She whispered

‘not quite’ he said, moving imperceptibly closer as if in a trance.

‘Walker! Princess? Where are you?’ She jumped back guiltily, and Drake stepped away swiftly at the sound of Bastien’s voice from the footpath by the palace. Drake collected himself, giving her an apologetic glance.

‘Here, Bas’ he shouted, ‘by the fire pit’ He wiped his hands on his trousers, and Charlotte licked her top lip and then wiped it with her handkerchief, her fingers still sticky. Bastein appeared, his dark eyes catching the firelight, and he gave Charlotte a searching look.

‘Are you alright, Princess?’ he asked ‘It’s very dark, you should go inside’ as she answered him her voice wavered a little

‘I’m – I’m fine thankyou Bastien. Drake was showing me how to make smores’ Bastien smiled.

‘That’s very generous of him. I’m rather partial to them myself’

‘I’ve still got some things left – can I make you one Bas?’ Drake said eagerly, the awkwardness of the moment disappearing.

‘No, its late Walker, you need to come in now’ He started to lead the two teenagers back to the palace. Drake hopped behind him like a faithful dog

‘Do you think the King would let Charlotte camp in the grounds if you were around to watch, Bas? She’s never been camping’ he asked.

‘I don’t know’ said Bastien ‘I’ll ask – or perhaps the Princess should say something’

‘If he knew you’d be there he might say yes’ Drake insisted

‘Perhaps. Now go and see Savannah, she wants to talk to you before she goes to bed’

Charlotte smiled at the memory, wondering if Bastien had seen it all and stepped in before they got in too deep at that tender age.  She drew the curtains, taking one last look at the embers of the fire outside, but it was too dark to see if anyone was out there.  She popped a chocolate into her mouth and stripped naked before crawling into bed. It was good to fall asleep with positive thoughts occupying her mind. Outside, Drake had seen her draw the curtains, and made his way back into the manor.

Brad woke in Olivia’s bed, her arm thrown over his chest, her breath warm on his neck.  He carefully untangled himself and got out of bed. He rubbed his neck, wincing at a bruise just below his collarbone. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and smirked at the bite mark on his shoulder. Olivia was as feisty in bed as she was out of it.

He sighed. He was going to have to tell Charlotte what was going on, it wasn’t fair otherwise, no matter how liberal Cordonia was. He just didn’t have it in him to be romancing (or bedding) two women at once, exciting though the thought might be. It wasn’t as if there was any real spark between them. He had had enough relationships to know when it was just physical and when there was an emotional attachment, or the possibility of one.

He feared Charlotte had been so starved of love and affection after the death of her mother that she didn’t know the difference herself.  Drake had obviously tried to fill that void, and to a greater extent for his sister too, and it had escalated to a more intimate relationship with Charlotte. The thought of a teenage boy trying to take over the role of mother both to his little sister and to a girl his own age filled him with pity. In turn, Bastien had filled in the role of father to the Walkers, providing a steady foundation for Drake. He didn’t think Constantine was half the paternal role model as the King’s Guardsman and he knew little of the role of the deceased Regina. Perhaps she had redressed the balance a little - Charlotte had never talked of her and he resolved to ask Olivia later.

For now, everyone would be preparing for the Apple fair. That normally called for the appointment of the Apple Queen, which would go ahead, but this year there would also be a Lord of Misrule picked from the suitors. It dated back to a pagan fertility ritual which was rarely invoked, but Constantine had declared it appropriate this year. Traditionally the Lord of Misrule turned everything upside down and reversed the roles of rulers and peasants. Most of the candidates were noble this year, but whatever rules they invoked would be in force until midnight. Because security was an issue each suitor had written their chosen rules and submitted them to Bastien for approval and he had not divulged the contents to anyone, not even the King.

For Charlotte, the day was a busy one, with preparations for the Apple fair which kept her busy, as at her father’s insistence she was closely involved in its organisation and had no spare time as there were also appointments with delegates and diplomats from Monaco there to discuss a trade agreement. The evening brought further duties with more paperwork and with Tariq to ‘help’ her. As she had guessed he was worse than useless – his mind would not settle on anything beyond clothes and fine wines, and he sat watching her pore over documents, drinking champagne and talking endlessly about his wine cellar. Charlotte was so tired afterwards that she failed to notice the firepit outside was again lit, and a shadowy figure stood there until she closed her curtains.

After breakfast the Court assembled out on the lawn where various marquees had been erected, and tents selling various delicacies and goods. The Lord of Misrule had already been chosen by secret ballot at the Regatta, the votes had been counted and kept in strict confidence save for the ballot counters and Bastien, and a few others who helped with planning. The King was to announce the winner, and the elected Lord would choose the Apple Queen from a group of local schoolchildren. Charlotte would still have a minor role as the Lady of Misrule.

Everyone assembled to hear the results, nobles and ordinary citizens mingling in a huge crowd. The suitors stood ready on the dais for the announcement, along with Constantine and Charlotte, Bastien and a number of aides. Anton stood next to Milo, then came Maxwell, Neville, Tariq, Rashad, Drake and finally Brad. The King appeared with an envelope and stepped up to the microphone. He cleared his throat.

‘Citizens of Cordonia, we are gathered today to celebrate Apple day, to bless the coming season and to hope for a good crop and the prosperity of all. This year, as you know, from the suitors for my daughter’s hand in marriage will be chosen as Lord of Misrule, who will rule in my stead for the remainder of the day, effective until midnight.’ He paused to look along the line of contenders ‘Each candidate has already submitted his rules for approval of the Royal Guard, to ensure maximum safety for all concerned. Minor alterations of these rules will be permitted, subject to approval of the Royal Guard. The winner will also choose this year’s Apple Queen from Cordonia Preparatory School, and my daughter, Queen in Waiting Charlotte will accompany the Lord of Misrule in his duties.’ The King looked down on the envelope he held and started to open it. Drake turned to Rashad and shook hands with him, mouthing ‘good luck’ and turned to do the same for Brad, causing a ripple of handshakes and back patting among the others.

‘Good luck to the contestants and may we all benefit from this day and learn from the experience, highborn and lowborn’ He took the piece of paper out and read it to himself, his lips moving before looking up and making his announcement…

Who is the Lord of Misrule? The people (some of the readers) have spoken! Stay tuned...