#but the creator wasn’t giving me what i want. lack of scars and deep voices but maybe i need to check again

[soloavengers]

One minute I’m happy with the voice i gave her the next i’m unsure 😔 infinite editing in beta so i’m gonna see the options again, it was hard to choose. i’m going for a classic “intimidating and hard to approach fighter who’s actually silly, cringe, and sweet when you get to know her” so a deep slightly scratchy voice seemed an obvious choice! i think i didn’t listen to all the options, but do tell me if you think it works?

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 07

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 2.5k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): Mentions of hybrid abuse, swearing.

♤ A/N: Surprise! I'm really sorry it took me this long, but I finally found the time and drive to write again :) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

06 07

"What do you mean this hybrid doesn't exist?"

Her eyes are wavering with an unspoken fear, perhaps caused by the bitterness my questions holds. I'm not happy, and she knows.

“It’s just, the chance that a dangerous breed such as the tiger hybrid would escape our system is basically zero..” The gaze she held on the computer screen unsurely moves my way. My expression must've instilled another layer of anxiety to the already existing one, as her mouth abruptly stops moving and her pupils dilate.

“Go on, explain.” The tone of my voice softens a bit as I notice her visible discomfort worsening. Even if there is no way that I’ll get any information from this place regarding Taehyung and his owner, I would still like to know why they’re both not showing up here.

Eun-ji takes a few deep breaths to stabilize her voice. As she does her posture slowly relaxes just a little and her eyes lose some of the nervousness they held before. “Because the first ‘successful’ tiger hybrid ran rampant after killing their creator, anyone who still breeds or creates them is being watched very closely by us, as well as by some other institutions.”

Perhaps it’s my lack of reaction that causes her to trail off at the end. Though I’m not judging her or her story, unlike she may think. To encourage her to continue, I give her a nod, tilting my head to show interest.

“The regular citizen isn’t even allowed to have one, needing special training to handle them. It’s like that for most hybrids that find their origins in wild animals. Creating tiger hybrids obviously requires a lot of knowledge when it comes to playing with genes and breeding them…. Well there are only three organization that are authorized to do so. All the resulting hybrids are registered and chipped.”

The explanation, which turns out to be a lengthy one, gets broken by a shuddering breath leaving her lips. She composes herself, clinging on to the little confidence she has left in her line of work to speak about the rest of her clarification.

“Of course people have tried to do it themselves, but those d.i.y operations have always ended in disappointment. If not taken proper care of, with substances only a board certified hybrid doctor can provide you, the pregnancy will fail. These are no easy practices they are dealing with.”

After the girls’ last words I give myself some time to think, letting a silence full of tension fill the room. It must be obvious that my mind is somewhere else at the moment, as the other girl in the room does her best to stay quiet. I don’t need much time however, my thoughts having quickly rearranged themselves as they were trained to do.

“So what you’re saying is, since tiger hybrids are hard to ���create’, if you will, there are only a few people who actually manage to bring them to life. And so those few people are kept under close watch, as are the hybrids they successfully wake, am I correct?”

Eun-ji nods affirmatively, clearly happy that I seem to understand the situation. “So there is absolutely no way that someone without authorization has had a decent attempt at either genetically merging a human together with a tiger or getting a tiger hybrid pregnancy to be successful?”

Perhaps there might be a bit of scepticism in the question I asked, as her attitude immediately changes into a defensive one. “There is not! Whatever hybrid you’re searching for either gave you a false identity or is not a tiger hybrid at all, which would seem rather unlikely. I told you they get chipped right? Why not go look into that.”

“He doesn’t have one. We already had a hospital take a look at him, they didn’t find anything. ” The statement seems to shock her, the gears in her head instantly turning as to find an answer to this riddle. She however can’t seem to get one.

“They can be removed, can they not? They’re just under the skin. If someone decided to just cut it out they could. Terrifying, but plausible. Either that or one of your faithful authorized employees has been leaking information to outsiders.”

This is where Eun-ji seems to give up. Her shoulders sagging and a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “There would still be the problem of the missing equipment, test subjects, practice… How would you even get hold of fertilized human eggs to play around with? But I guess that wouldn’t be totally impossible. As for cutting it out… There would be a noticeable scar. The implants are always put in the same place, it wouldn’t be hard to miss.”

I make a mental note stating to ask Taehyung about all of this when I get back. If anyone knows how he got onto this world it would be him. “Is there a possibility that you could have someone look into it?” The girl nods in defeat, paying more attention to the ground than to anything else. “I’ll see if I can get someone on the case. I’ll have them contact you if we know anything.”

After those words she turns around in her chair, facing the monitor that had already put itself into sleep, and turns it off. Taking a notepad out of the drawer to her left, she quickly writes something down with the pen from her breast pocket. “I’ll get on it right away. Would you like me to walk you back to the exit?”

I shake my head. “No It’s okay, I’ll find my way back. Thank you for cooperating.” Eun-ji gives me a small smile, followed by a bow and walks out of the room taking the note with her, presumably immediately keeping herself busy with the extra work. Not wanting to waste any time I copy her, walking myself back into the direction we came from. Turns out it proves quite easy to find the exit by myself.

It’s already far past dinnertime when I make it back to the office. Not many of my colleagues have remained in their seats, most of them opting for a nice meal with their families. The few that have stayed behind are mostly known to live alone, quite like myself.

I quietly knock on my supervisor’s door, but when no response emerges from within the room, I can safely deduce that she too has already returned home. “I’ll have to write her a report about today later..” I mutter to myself, before stepping away from the door and instead heading to the cells at the back.

Technically the arrest period had already ended for Taehyung, as the law wouldn’t allow us to keep him locked up for any longer without any charges being held against him. His cell however technically was never locked and so even now, he is free to go wherever he wants. Though it didn’t change the fact that he still has no place to go to.

“Good evening. Had anything to eat yet?” He just chose to stay here and we accepted it. “Oh, hello! Yes, that tall handsome bulky man gave me something earlier, I can’t remember his name. He said something about it ‘being the best shit in town’.”

I slightly giggle at his quote, knowing immediately who it belongs to. “That definitely sounds like something Namjoon would say. What did he give you?”

Taehyung looks a lot better than he did yesterday. The stress of the interrogation seems to have completely worn off, instead traded for the sweet bouncy personality he used to show around me.

“Umm it was something in the shape of a circle and it had meat all over it… Oh! I think he called it a pizza? It was delicious!”

“You’ve never had pizza before?” The words leave my mouth before I actually get the chance to process them, causing me to instantly regret ever even opening my mouth. These days are stressful enough for him as they are, he doesn’t need a painful reminder of the life he never got to live on top of that.

The question doesn’t seem to hit him as hard as I though it would though. In fact, his demeanour doesn’t seem to change at all. Although sadly, it doesn’t make his next words any less painful. “Nope! When I first got adopted all they would feed me was wet cat food. It wasn’t great, but at least I got my three meals a day. The foster family I stayed at after my first owners mysteriously disappeared didn’t actually have the money to even take proper care of themselves, so at that time all I would get was whatever was left of their dinner that day, if there was even any left. It was mostly just greens. The lack of meat made me real sick at the time.”

He pauses talking for a second to look up at my face through the metal bars. The content look on his face quickly changes to one of worry once he catches my eyes. It’s no mystery why, I know I look at him pitifully. Even if he may not wish for my concern, I am only human. I can perfectly hide it when I need to, but this is not one of those cases.

“There it is again, that sad look on your face…” He sits up straight on the side of his bed to fully observe me, a tilt of his head giving him away. I send a sad chuckle his way as I reach for the door of his enclosure, inviting myself into the small space with him. He doesn’t object.

“Is it that obvious?” It was meant more as a way to lighten the mood, not as an actual question that needs answering. He still does however, giving me a simple slow nod. “You don’t need to feel bad for me.”

“Someone has to. You deserve at least that much.”

There’s a chair neatly placed under a small desk in the room. It used to be quite lively, with all kinds of bright colours blending into each other. It was a little positive additive into the dark grey room, but after all the anger that has been acted out on it, it no longer has that same shine.

I pull the chair out to place myself upon it, straddling the seat while I rest my arms on top of the back rest. Facing the tiger I use my arms as a pillow to lean my head on, making myself comfortable on the creaking furniture.

“Say, Taehyung, do you remember anything from when and where you were formed?”

He seems slightly taken aback at first, though quickly regains his composure. He also doesn’t immediately answer, first taking some time to think before coming back to me. “I was born a hybrid to two purebred tiger hybrids. They did their best trying to care for me in the little time we got to spend together, but seeing as it happened on a breeding farm getting to spend time with my parents wasn’t the plan. I got sold off pretty quickly, as soon as I learned to hold my first few full conversations.”

“Do you… Would you happen to know what happened to the farm? To your parents?” I fail to hide my apprehensiveness, needing too much space to form a careful approach. This shouldn’t feel like an interrogation to him, I never even announced one. There is little reason for him to answer me, the vital information from his side has already been given anyway. Nonetheless, even though I probably shouldn’t be doing this right now, I can’t just miss this opportunity.

“I heard my adoptive family talking about how the place was burnt down a while later. Most likely the police had caught a hold of it and they had to delete their left behind evidence. Both building and hybrids.”

Despite talking about the death of his parents, he seems to tell the story with relative ease. Probably not having much connection with the far past, his brain too young to truly hold on to the memory of them.

“They were successful too, as the case got dropped faster than lightning. It wasn’t long before the general public forgot about it too, believing it was just another misunderstanding. Besides, hybrid lives weren’t as important anyway.”

The amount of rights hybrids had when they were first created back in the day were close to zero, only strictly being seen as objects to show off whatever possible wealth one may have had. For a while there was even a popular theory going around that hybrids didn’t actually have the ability to feel any kind of emotion or pain. The genetic puzzle wouldn’t allow for it, as it had been tampered with to an extreme extent. This only built on the carelessness shown towards them, slowly chipping away at their sanity.

Although the rumours were wrong, they came from a place of truth. Facial expressions were rare for hybrids, as was the ability to speak. Most of them couldn’t even keep up with regular humans, exhaustion quickly taking over the little anger they could show. Scientists hadn’t yet quite figured out how to perfectly combine the pieces of genetic code and so hybrids were more like living dolls in the eyes of evil humans. Having no voice to object and barely any means to actually hurt anyone, it wasn’t much of a surprise the selfish nature in humans came to rise.

Luckily, or depending on how you look at it, sadly, these first generation hybrids were never able to reproduce. The doll like hybrid features eventually died out with the rise of the newly perfected pieces and the theory was debunked by a group of scientist who actually did care about the hybrids’ wellbeing. Those hybrids had lived through countless punishments, and every single one of them had hurt. A lot.

Right now hybrids in a lot of ways are superior to the rest of us. Having the combined senses of both animal and human alike, society has reluctantly given up on trying to contain them. They are still to be bought and owned, but no longer to be treated like dirt. The smartest of hybrids have even already gotten complete freedom to do as the please, no longer having to be bound to a human to roam freely. However, those unable to pass the close to impossible tests aren’t so lucky.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

Taehyung gives me a reassuring wave of his hand, effectively trying to lighten the mood, along with a sad smile. It wouldn’t take a trained professional to know he still longs for his parent’s presence, even if he may do well hiding it.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.”

That doesn’t make the situation more okay, but I hold my remarks back. For now, that might just be for the best.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b @littlewolfieposts @nellaphine @the8luvr @deathkat657 @elenaramos1 @namjoonies-dimple

[sapphirelass]

I’ll be by your side - Remus LupinxDaughter

Hi!! Wooow I’m a slow writer XD To be fair though, I am graduating in June, so there’s...quite a lot to do. Anyhow, this is part 3 of my imagine deal? so I’d recommend reading that one and part two first. Remus is my favourite HP character, so this mainly focuses on the relationship between him and his daughter, but I guess it’s slight HarryxOC as well ;)

Deal? (Part 1) | Oh, darling... (Part 2) | I’ll be by your side (Part 3)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Word count: ≈ 2200

Warnings: Battle of Hogwarts, Angst, Blood, Death :(

Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“But, dad! You can’t go yourself and then expect me not to come along!”

“Yes, Bree, I can, and I will!”

He was desperate to go join the rest of the Order, and searched frantically for his old coat.

“Bu-”

“Darling, listen, this is not your fight, okay? You’re staying with Tonks and Teddy this time, and I’ll-”

She had grabbed his coat and was holding it behind her back, out of her father’s reach.

“DAD!!”

Remus stopped for a moment and took a proper look at his daughter for the first time since receiving the message about the upcoming battle.

“Look, I’m seventeen years old. I’m an adult now, and most of my younger friends are fighting. There’s literally no reason for me not to!”

“There is a perfectly good reason and you know that! Besides, your age is completely irrelevant! It wouldn’t matter if you were fifteen or seventeen, twenty or thirty, I don’t want you fighting!”

His voice was stern, which admittedly wasn’t too uncommon, but it lacked the normal comedic undertone and not even a ghost of a smile could be seen on his face. This did make Breanna feel quite uncomfortable, but she was not giving up. She couldn’t leave everyone else and just sit quietly on the sidelines. Surely he understood that, right?

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s not your choice to make. I know you don’t like it, but I’m going.”

She gave her father his coat and picked a jumper for herself, but stopped abruptly when approaching the front door. Remus had stepped in front of her, and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Please, darling… I can’t have you injured again - or worse! Stay.”

“Dad, I promised you two years ago that I would pick my fights more wisely. We made a deal. And I am choosing this one.”

“Breanna, it’s not the same! Seeing you hurt back then caused me more pain than you could possibly imagine, but this will be worse. Far worse. An-”

“Don’t you think I know that?” It wasn’t her intention to snap at him, but they didn’t have time for this argument. People were waiting. “I know it’s for real this time, it most definitely was two weeks ago, but I honestly thought you would have more faith in me. I’m not five, okay?!”

“Bree, don-”

She pulled out of his embrace, tied her shoes and apparated. Leaving him in the middle of an argument like that broke her heart. She knew the chances of them both making it out alive were low, unharmed close to none. They did, however, not have a choice. There was no time to waste. Voldemort could be attacking the castle this very moment, and Harry, Dumbledore’s army and the rest of the Order would need all the help they could get…

~~~

Breanna ran down the stairs, desperately searching for any familiar faces, and eventually spotted one she had really longed to see.

“Harry!!”

He turned at the sound of his name and smiled - really smiled - when their eyes met. They weren’t more than a few feet away from each other, and it didn’t take long before they met in the middle.

“Bree! You alright?” They hugged each other tightly and enjoyed the feeling of safety, if only for a few seconds. “What happened to your arm?”

She followed his gaze and found her sleeve torn and shoulder covered in blood. It wasn’t too bad though, she hadn’t even noticed it before Harry pointed it out.

“I-I don’t know, it’s fine. How are you feeling?”

He looked down at her and used a bloodied and scarred hand to push some of her hair behind her ear. He wanted to say “fine”, but it would have been a lie.

“Scared”, he admitted, “But also ready. Let’s finish this, once and for all?”

She nodded. “You’re right! How can I help?”

“Well, some people are trying to evacuate all the younger students through the room of requirement, think you could lend them a hand?”

“Sure! Good luck Harold, see you!”

He shook his head at the nickname, but smiled nonetheless.

“Right, good luck. And Bree?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay alive, will you?”

“I’ll do my best on one condition.”

“Hmm?”

“You do the same”

He gave her a nod before continuing up the stairs.

“And Harry, we don’t have time for the full story, but if you run into my dad, let him know I’m sorry, will you?”

~~~

Sure, Breanna loved Hogwarts, it was her second home, but this was proper chaos! Most of the younger kids were finally safe, but the battle was far from won. There were death eaters everywhere. She stumbled behind suit of armor, narrowly avoiding a flash of red light, and suddenly remembered something her dad had said the other night:

“It is the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers”

She knew it was meant to work as motivation, but thinking about it now just made her feel sad. How could she be so stupid? She fought her way through the corridors, but after turning a corner, she found herself facing an empty hallway. A chill went down her spine as the booming voice of Lord Voldemort could be heard all throughout the grounds. He was ordering his followers to back down, hoping to get Harry to come directly to him. Great! Now she had two people to find before it was too late...

~~

Entering the great hall this time felt nothing like it had almost seven years ago. There were people everywhere. Students, teachers, children, former graduates and parents - all in this together, mourning, comforting and healing.

Breanna would have noticed Fred Weasley surrounded by the rest of his family. Neville and Oliver Wood carefully moving Colin Creevey out of the way. She would have seen all of them, had it not been for a certain old, brown coat in her peripheral vision.

Her world fell apart, she found herself unable to breathe and didn’t realize she had sprinted towards her father before she felt two, strong arms wrap around her. Breanna struggled and tried to push them away, but didn’t have enough strength to do so. She crumpled to the ground and was pulled into a tight embrace.

“Bree…”, a soft voice mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Can you try to breathe slower, please? Deep and easy, alright.”

She realized that someone was speaking to her, but she didn’t recognize the words. They held no meaning, almost as if he spoke a different language, or stood very far away. Breanna eventually stopped hyperventilating and tried to ease the shaking as she slowly turned to check who it was, sitting with his arms around her. Her eyes met a pair of emerald green ones.

“Harry.”, she whispered, still crying but trying to keep her focus on him. There was so much more she would have wanted to say, but she was unable to find the right words. “Please tell me.... Tell me he’s no-...”

“‘m sorry”

They sat for a few minutes before Harry picked a small vial from his pocket and asked if she’d be okay.

“Bree, I’m sorry, but I have to go. It’s not over yet.”

She took a deep breath.

“It’s fine, I get it. Go. I’d love a moment alone anyways.”

~~~

She sat by her father’s side for a while, but felt unable to look at him, not wanting to fully accept the reality of the situation. It was when the fifth person came up to her to give their condolences that she got up and left the great hall. She couldn’t take it, and besides, it should be fine. The death eaters had left.

She walked the familiar path towards the Gryffindor common room, but nothing seemed... real. It felt like a nightmare, only this time she couldn’t talk it through with her dad over a cup of tea. This time, nobody would be there to convince her it was just a bad dream.

This time, no one would wake her up…  

The very moment that thought crossed her mind, a dark chuckle shattered the otherwise eerie silence.

“Avada kedavra”

She barely had time to register Antonin Dolohov with his wand pointed in her direction before an intense flash of green light caused her world to go dark.

This time, she wouldn’t wake up.

~~~

*Darkness*

*A flicker of light*

*A flicker of... hope*

*Warmth?*

~~~

It was a weird feeling. She didn’t feel happy, but rather… at peace. She sat up slowly and let her eyes adjust to the brightness as two voices simultaneously asked:

“Bree?!”

She turned around and found herself face to face with a rather tall, red haired wizard, and a slightly older man with longer brown hair.

“Fred? Sirius?”

Fred skipped over and held out his hand, helping his younger friend to her feet. He immediately noticed her dried tears and pulled her into a tight embrace. Sirius remained a few feet away with a pained expression on his face, but was unable to stay quiet for long.

“What happened?”

Breanna pulled away and met her godfather’s worried gaze.

“I… It’s my fault. I thought all the Death Eaters had left the castle. They were waiting for Harry in the forbidden forest and I just needed some air...”

“Did Harry go?”

A couple Breanna had only seen in pictures, but knew to be James and Lily Potter, had appeared behind Sirius.

“I’m not sure. He left for Dumbledore’s office about fifteen minutes earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t even try to stop him but, with all due respect, he would have gone anyways. It’s impossible to change his mind once he decides on something.”

To her surprise, none of Harry’s parents looked very worried, but shared a smile instead.

“Don’t worry, Breanna.”, said Lily gently, “He’ll know what to do when the time comes.”

“You’ve both come so far”, added James, “Things will be fine in the end, and if they’re not fine, then it’s not the end.”

“I hope you’re both right…”, she mumbled quietly, “sorry, but is dad…?”

James smiled sadly and nodded before turning to call his old friend over, however Sirius got there first.

“Oi! Moony! Get over ‘ere.”

Remus had been discussing something not too far away, and Sirius’ comment made him chuckle as he approached the other marauders.

“Easy, Pads, you make it sound li-”

That was all he had time for, as two arms wrapped themselves tightly around his torso. He would have known who it was even without looking. He’d recognize that hug anywhere. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but all it took was one word.

one. single. word.

“Dad!”

A single word before hot, salty tears filled his eyes. It wasn’t possible!? He was completely lost for words. Didn’t know how to react, what to say or what to do. He just stood there, his arms wrapped around his only daughter, unable to process the fact that she was… dead. They both were.

“Dad, I’m so so so sorry! I shouldn’t have shouted, I shouldn’t have taken my anger or fear out on you and above all I shouldn’t have left!?! I… I..”

“Bree”

“And now Teddy won’t have his father-”

“Bree!!”

“And I swear I tried to find you, but I couldn’t and then it was too late and it’s all my fault a-”

“Breanna Lupin!!!”

She fell silent but didn’t let go.

“I’m s-��

“Darling, calm down! What’s done is done, alright. I still wish you hadn’t gone, especially given the apparent outcome, but I understand. Are you okay? Nothing broken?”

“No, I’m good, actually… Nothing hurts at all, but-”

“Good!” He pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders. “Would you mind letting me in on what happened?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, not really wanting to talk about the last few hours, yet knowing she owed her father that much.

“I… I entered the great hall and saw… you. I don’t quite know what happened, I just… broke. Then Harry showed up and we just hugged, I guess?”

Lily and James looked at each other and smiled.

“Then we both left and Dolohov appeared out of nowhere and… well that’s that.”

Remus shook his head sadly, immediately understanding the true meaning of his daughter’s words. HE was duelling Dolohov earlier that night. HE lost that duel. Had he won then maybe, possibly, she would still be alive too. His fault... as always

“Remus? Rem?”, James mumbled, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulders, “It’s not your fault. You tried, and that’s the best either of us can do.”

~~~

Things didn’t go according to plan, but perhaps they were the way they were always meant to be.

Her body next to her fathers, as they rested peacefully in the great hall. Her soul next to her father, as they wandered through the deep valleys of Nangijala, awaiting the day lost friends and lovers would come join them. No matter in this life or in the next;

I’ll be by your side

~ L

Masterlist

[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Willful Disobedience”

Clervalstein yearning goes brrrrrrr

Anyways- uh... so as I said at the beginning of pride month, my goal for June is to write at least one directly Clervalstein related AU segment each week because gay. 

This time around, I was inspired to write about the events that led to how Henry would eventually find Victor and the Creature on the mountain, so in terms of timeline, this takes place before all segments I’ve written except for “Home Again” and “Same Scars, Same Stitches.”

A couple of fun little tidbits about the making of this segment (feel free to skip over them and get right to the segment below the cut, this is just me rambling about some inspiration):

1. The whole bit with Victor drawing and the Creature mimicking him by drawing as well was somewhat inspired by the “Forbidden Friendship” scene from How to Train Your Dragon. I listened to that specific track from the movie score a few times while I was in the process of thinking about this idea!

2. Another bit of musical inspiration actually came from the Chronicles of Narnia, specifically the track “Evacuating London” from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. If you time it just right and you’re somebody who can actively read and listen to music at the same time, it should somewhat line up with the last few paragraphs (excluding Henry’s bit at the end) - starting at where Victor says “I’d give anything-”, then with the little piano part being timed with the paragraph that starts with “It was intricately detailed-”, then the major swell in that half of the song should line up with the paragraph where the Creature begins feeling the need to disobey Victor’s most important rules; then comes the part that begins with a bit of bells and eventually vocalization, and that entire half of the track should align with the Creature carrying out his plan at least most of the way. Of course - all of this depends on your reading speed, but I would definitely recommend listening to the song after reading at least and imagining those parts of the segment along with it if you’re interested in a little peek into my crazy writing process! 😅

Anyways- this is another wholesome segment, so no warnings needed to my knowledge!

As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated!

~~~

Sunlight warmed the cold stone of the mountain ridge upon which Victor sat. His sleeves were rolled up on his arms, as the heat from the summer sun was felt much more intensely up on the mountain top despite the cool alpine breeze. Heavy clouds capped the peaks beyond though the sky was primarily a clear blue, and mist drifted through the valleys below. Though the view was magnificent, the sketchbook that sat on Victor’s knee contained no trace of the mountains. His eyes darted from the open page to the horizon, but it wasn’t the horizon he was searching for. As he stared over the peaks beyond, it wasn’t the view itself he focussed on, and instead an image that was clear in his mind. With a slight smile at the thought, he turned his gaze back down to the page and continued his sketching. It wasn’t long before the smile faded as the sound of quiet, careful footfalls upon the stone broke the calm silence, and he became aware of a presence directly beside him. He instinctively scooted himself about a half inch away as the other figure slowly sat at his side, his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate harder on his sketching. “What are you doing?” came the inquisitive voice of his creation, and he felt the looming figure lean over in an attempt to view what he was drawing. With a further frown, Victor covered over his sketch with his other hand and turned away.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he grumbled in reply. The creature tried to get a better look, but Victor’s hand covered over too much of it for him to be able to see. He sat there for a moment longer, his mind wandering and his gaze flitting about from view to view as he tried to decide what it was he should do. Now that the cabin was finally completed, he found himself with a lack of activities to keep him busy, and though his creator was certainly better company now than he had been when he first arrived to the mountain, he still wasn’t much of a conversationalist and was often preoccupied with his own thoughts or projects. Out of ideas, he hummed something softly to himself, some tune he had once heard Victor singing one day many weeks ago. Victor lifted his eyes at the sound and glanced over at him, but the moment the creature returned his gaze, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his sketching. Quieting himself at his creator’s reaction, the creature sighed and stood, walking back toward the cabin. Victor almost felt bad - almost - but he kept drawing, now absentmindedly humming the same tune. After a few minutes, he became distracted by the sound of footsteps once again, but this time the creature sat a ways away from him. He went quiet, trying to ignore his creation and keep his focus, but he heard the scratching of another pen on paper, then a pause, then more scratching, and he felt himself being watched. With an exasperated sigh, Victor dropped his pen beside him and looked over to the creature. “What on earth are you doing?” The creature looked up at him, his expression blank.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he answered matter-of-factly. Victor stared at him a moment, then frowned.

“Back talking me? That’s new.” The creature blinked, but didn’t answer, instead turning back down to the piece of paper that lay on his knee and continuing to draw something on it. Now thoroughly curious, Victor stood, walking over to him and standing behind him to look over his shoulder. The creature made no efforts to hide his drawing, and Victor could clearly see the rough beginnings of a person sitting in the exact same pose he had been sitting in. “Are you… drawing me drawing Henry?”

“Ah, so you were drawing someone named Henry.” Victor blushed furiously.

“Oh you sly bastard,” he muttered. The creature glanced up at him. “How clever of you, to get an answer out of me like that.”

“That was not my intention, but I cannot say I am disappointed by the result,” the creature responded simply. Victor sighed, sitting down beside him before flopping dramatically onto his back. Now trying to think based on memory, the creature gazed off into the distance before looking down at his paper and continuing to draw. “May I ask who this Henry person is?” he asked as he drew. “I hear you speak the name often. He must be of great importance to you.” Victor wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell his creation to mind his own business and stop prying into his personal life, and yet… he couldn’t be angry - not while Henry was the topic of the conversation, anyway.

“Henry is… was my…” He paused, carefully thinking about how to choose his words, “closest friend.” There was a length of silence as he felt an ache in his chest from the thought of Henry, and the creature took a moment away from his drawing before returning to it.

“Tell me about him,” he suggested as he sketched. Victor sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, holding his sketch of Henry over his heart as he stared into the sky.

“Where to even begin with him,” Victor uttered quietly.

“Describe him to me.” Victor lifted his sketch up and stared at it, before holding it out to the creature. The creature glanced up, and looked at it with a curious expression. Victor gave him a curt nod, signaling that he was welcome to inspect it closer, so he gently took it from Victor’s hand and inspected it closely.

“He’s tall, but not too tall - just tall enough that I have to look up in order to look into his eyes. And he’s always well dressed - I don’t think there’s ever been a day when he wasn’t looking his best, though I suppose I might be a bit biased on that.” For a moment he wondered just how much further he should go with his description. How could he describe someone like Henry without giving his true feelings away? He hesitated, then sighed with a smile. His creation already knew one of his secrets, and, after all, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere or seeing anyone else, so what harm was there in completely venting his thoughts? “He has the most thoughtful hazel eyes, toffee brown around the edges and streaked with emerald green that deepens toward the pupils, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long.” The creature’s pen went still and he looked up toward the horizon, trying to imagine what Victor was describing. “And his hair is long - not quite so long as yours, but ends just past his shoulders - and lays in tangled waves always kept tied back, though a few strands never fail to set themselves free. When the sun hits it just right, I could swear it was made of fire,” Victor breathed as he pictured it in his mind. “It’s the kind of brilliant auburn that takes your breath away, that seems to gleam with its own radiant light. Sometimes I swear he’s more angel than man, and perhaps if angels do exist, he may well be one of them.” The creature smiled, but the smile soon faded as his mind drifted to Paradise Lost and further to his past. He blinked the thought away, then turned his eyes back down to his art, setting Victor’s drawing of Henry down at his side. “He’s covered with what must be thousands of freckles, mostly concentrated on his cheeks but they expand over his face and at the very least his arms, chest, and back. I would liken them to… dark stars against a bright sky,” Victor explained. He raised an arm up and began tracing lines in the air as he continued. “I used to try to find constellations among them, and sometimes I thought I nearly could. Orion, Andromeda, Lepus, Lynx, Pegasus, Phoenix, Vulpecula,” he muttered each constellation as he imagined himself tracing the lines between freckles on Henry’s skin, his chocolate brown eyes seeming to light up with wonder as he grew to be lost in his own imagination.

“He barely sounds real,” the creature interjected nonchalantly, hardly looking up from his drawing as he began to focus closer on it. Victor grinned and chuckled softly.

“I tell myself that every day,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “Surely no man could ever be so perfect, and yet there he is-” He paused, reaching higher toward the sky and extending his fingers to feel the breeze between them, “as real as you and I.” His hand dropped back down to his chest as he heaved a sigh. “There’s no man on earth as generous or as compassionate as my-” He stopped himself, blushing hard as he realized what it was he was about to say. “As Henry, I mean. Just… just Henry.” The scratching of the creature’s pen stopped again, and Victor glanced over at him to see him staring ahead in clear contemplation of the implications of his words before returning to his art. “You know,” Victor began, returning his eyes to the sky. “I can just about guarantee that if it were Henry who made you instead of me, you would have turned out ok.” The weight of his words hadn’t set in before he said them, but now that they were out, they sat heavy on his chest like lead. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled unsteadily. “If it were him instead of me, William would still be alive.” At those words, the creature froze, as rather than a weight to him they felt like a dagger slowly piercing between his ribs and etching each letter directly onto his beating heart. “And to think… Even if it wasn’t him who made you, if it were him who found you here, perhaps your night terrors would have all but ceased by now. And maybe, by his grace, you would be at peace.” They sat in contemplative silence, both somehow altogether calmed and unnerved in each other's presence. “I’d give just about anything for him to be here,” Victor mentioned, breaking the silence and lifting himself up onto his hands. “And I know all it would take is one letter. He’d drop everything to come here. But that’s… that’s just it. That’s the problem.” He sighed, fully sitting upright. The creature glanced over at him. “I can’t let him just… ruin the rest of his life for me. I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing that I held him back because of my own mistakes.” His eyes dropped to his other side. “And yet… I barely know how I can live with myself without him here.” It was at that moment that he felt something being laid gently on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw the drawing the creature had been working on.

It was intricately detailed, each line placed carefully onto the page with such precision. Though it was only simple line art, Victor could clearly see the image of himself sketching from earlier on the page, but standing in front of him was another figure - Henry. He was exactly as Victor described him, tall and well dressed, with long hair tied back and a few strands that drifted over his face. Though there was no color, his eyes seemed just as gentle and full of wonder as Victor remembered them to be as he stared off to some distant land. His face was covered in tiny dots, freckles, each so meticulously pricked on that Victor could clearly trace some of the constellations he described between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he placed his fingers gently on the drawn image, running them gently down the drawing’s cheek, wishing instead of cool paper that it was the soft, warm touch of Henry’s face. “Did I do him justice?” the creature inquired quietly, trying to read his teary expression. Victor sniffled and smiled.

“You… you’re quite the artist,” he managed to answer. Gingerly, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll be back later. I need to take a walk and… clear my head,” Victor mentioned, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Will you be ok on your own?” The creature didn’t answer for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into the distance as he thought deeply, but soon he snapped his attention back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Take your time, Victor.” Victor sighed and nodded.

“I’ll try not to be too late to return.” His creation watched as he wandered off and eventually disappeared into the trees, before returning to his thoughts. It was strange - in all the months that he had been there, the creature had never once considered disobeying Victor, especially out of the fear that he might abandon him again. Suddenly, however, he felt the strong need to disobey each and every one of Victor’s most important rules. He hated to see his creator so struck with longing, but even more so, he considered the positive ramifications of what his carefully formulated plan might bring. Sure, Victor might be initially upset, but with how much he desperately wanted this Henry person to be there with him, surely it would be well worth it in the end.

The first part of his plan was simple. He would need to break Victor’s trust, and search through his personal belongings. He made his way back to the cabin and slipped into Victor’s room to find a mess of folded papers lying on the bed stand - each paper being a letter he had received from a Henry Clerval. Though all he was searching for was an address, the creature couldn’t help himself and decided to read through some of the letters. As he did, he became even more certain about his decision. Not only was this man exactly as Victor had described, but the connection between them was clearly something so strong that it should have been unbreakable. To his luck as well, the creature managed to find amongst the scattered papers a letter Victor had intended to send as a reply to Henry but never had the chance to send, dated from a time before his creation.

The second part of his plan would be the most time consuming, but also the most critical, and this unsent letter would prove to be the perfect resource. Retrieving his pen and a small stack of paper Victor had stashed away, he began crafting a letter of his own. With as much precision as he could muster, he forged Victor’s handwriting and did his best to copy his style and choice of language. A few hours were spent on this, most of that time spent on crafting one single sentence until he was sure it was perfect before finally continuing on with the rest of the letter. After he completed it, he spent a few more minutes checking it once, then once more to ensure it was in fact as accurate as he could make it, before then spending a little more time practicing forging Victor’s signature and finally signing the note in his creator’s name.

Finally came the most dangerous part. With only his own memory of his travels from Ingolstadt to guide him, he would need to find and deliver the letter to someone who would be able to ensure that it reached Henry safely. Of all Victor’s rules, perhaps his greatest was that the creature was to never descend the mountain, and above all, was never to enter civilization or interact with any other human beings. Each of these would need to be broken in order for his plan to succeed. For a moment, he hesitated. Would Victor become so cross with him over this that he would abandon him once again? Where would he go if he did? What would he do? Who could he turn to? Still, it cut him sharp to think that he might be squandering this small chance to bring his creator some joy after all his sorrow if he were to abandon his plan now. His mind was made - no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to ensure this letter was delivered, and hope that Henry would arrive some day soon just as Victor said he would.

He would need to be swift in order to ensure that Victor would never know he had even left, so he quickly yet cautiously put each letter back in its rightful scattered place as though they had never been touched, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. With a deep, shaky breath, he could feel a new sensation pulsing through him - a rush of adrenaline that raised his heart rate and widened his yellow eyes. Letter clutched tightly in hand, exited the cabin and broke into a sprint. Down the mountain he ran with superhuman speed, leaping over logs and boulders as though they were mere hurdles. Though he should have balked at sheer cliff faces, instead he lept from them and skid down their sides, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock scraping at the soles of his feet and the palm of his empty hand. Letting his intuition guide him, he continued his swift journey to Geneva. Though the place held painful, dreadful memories for him, the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him overrode the thoughts, and he raced toward the location of the address. Slowing to a walk, his chest heaved and ached from exertion, but he slowed his breathing as he came upon a fence that outlined one of many pastures that outskirted a large house on a hill beyond. In one pasture, he could just barely see a figure on horseback, cantering through a field with his wavy, tied hair flickering ember orange in the sunlight behind him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” came a sudden voice from beside him. He jumped at the sound, instinctively hiding his face in the hood of his cloak.

“I- ...yes. Yes, I believe you can,” he stammered in reply. The stranger, a servant from the Clerval household, gave him a curious look as he held out the letter. “This is a letter for a man named Henry Clerval. I am of the impression that this is his residence?” The servant smiled as he took the letter.

“Ordinarily I would have sent you in the direction of Ingolstadt in Germany, but as luck would have it, master Henry returned home just yesterday.” He inspected the folded letter curiously. “May I ask your name?” The creature froze, gripping his cloak tighter around himself.

“I am but a simple deliverer of this message, kind sir. My name need not be of any concern. As for the letter, I am under the impression that he will understand who it is from once he has received it.” The servant nodded.

“I understand. Thank you - I will see that it’s delivered to him promptly.” With that, the man turned and started off toward where the man on horseback was riding, glancing back at the creature in confusion for a moment before continuing with a brisk pace to the one he would be delivering the letter to. The creature waited a moment longer to watch for the rider’s reaction, smiled, knowing he had made the right decision, and began his sprint back toward home.

“Master Henry? Sir?” the servant called in the pasture, letter held carefully in his hand. Henry’s hazel eyes lifted as he turned his head and gently pulled back on the reins of his mount. The mare he rode slowed to a trot, then to a walk as Henry carefully turned her in the direction of the servant.

“Yes, Marc? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, sir,” Marc replied. As Henry slowed his steed to a stop at his side, he looked down curiously at the other man, who held the letter out to him. “This arrived for you just now from an unknown deliverer. He said you would know who it was from when you read it.” Now thoroughly intrigued, Henry took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he beheld the handwriting, and slowly his other hand lifted to his mouth as his jaw dropped while he read. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Tears welled in Henry’s eyes, dripping down onto his freckled cheeks as he looked up from the letter, his expression of shock turning to a tearfully happy smile.

“No, Marc, everything is much better than I had anticipated.” Marc gave him a confused glance. “Will you help me ready a supply pack and ride with me? I will need to be leaving at once.”

“Of course, sir,” Marc replied with a curt nod. “May I ask where it is we are headed?”

“The base of Mount Montanvert.” Henry turned his mount, his eyes resting on the distant mountains. “Be prepared to bring the horses back here for me once we arrive there. I might not be returning for quite some time.”

[eriklivesinmybasement]

Rise of the Guardians: Is it as good as we remember?

(Oof! I’ve been working on this one for a long while! Buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long one!)

(Before I get into this, I want everyone to know that I’m not claiming anything to be fact. This is just my personal opinion).

Back in November of 2012, we were greeted with Rise of the Guardians. This movie, based on the books entitled The Guardians of Childhood, written by William Joyce, gave us a new and unique take on our favorite childhood characters. This included Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Jack Frost, and more.

While it didn’t do so well at the box office, it seemed to explode in popularity. It spawned a fandom fairly quickly, even spawning a couple fandoms that branched off of it. For a long while there it seemed that, wherever you looked, you saw cosplays, fanart, tribute videos, fanfiction, etc. Loads of people seemed to absolutely love this movie, and I, as a twelve-year-old at the time and thus a part of the target audience, was no exception.

Even now eight years later, I still claim to love this movie. Even though I haven’t seen it in a long while, it left a huge impact on me as a writer and artist, which is why I am sad to see the fanbase slowly dwindling away. So I went back and watched it again, and as I sat there ready to press the ‘play’ button, I began to wonder. 

Will this movie be as good as I remember it?

And the answer? Yes and no.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I still really like this movie, and I still stand by it being one of my favorites. But just like everything else in life, nothing is perfect. And while still amazing, this movie does indeed have some flaws. 

And as I like to save the best for last, I’ll start off by diving into some of the movies flaws.

Flaw #1 - Pacing

The pacing in this movie can be a little awkward from time to time. Nothing super jarring, but enough to make me go, “I’m sorry, what?”. 

Some scenes seemed to just jump from one to the other without much warning. Either that, or the transition from one scene to the next seemed a little off. One example of this is when North, Bunny, Sandman, and Jack Frost set off to the Tooth Palace. There was nothing inherently wrong with these scenes, but the transition between the two seemed a little awkward. One minute we were having a nice, calm moment between North and Jack, and then all of a sudden we get a quick, action-like sequence with the sleigh.

Another moment that felt awkwardly paced was the introduction of the movies villain, Pitch Black. It seemed like there should’ve been more buildup to him. We got a bit, but moments of buildup seemed quite few and far between. When he was introduced it felt almost a little random, him just appearing for a few moments and disappearing just as quick didn’t seem to work or do him justice.

There are other scenes, but I won’t go over those now, as I guess I’m probably already bugging some hardcore RotG fans.

Flaw #2 - Unexplored Questions and Backstories

Alright, before I get people shouting me down about how, “If I want backstory and questions answered I should read the books”, hear me out.

When you make a story, whether it be in the form of a movie or book, you’re going to want it to make sense. You’re going to want everything to tie together. It’s true that the original books do this, but it’s not seen in the movie. So for those who watch the movie, they may walk out confused about some aspects of it. The two parts I’m going to focus on here are Pitch Black’s backstory, and how Sandman came back to life.

Every story needs a good villain, and Pitch Black is certainly a well-defined villain. But here’s the problem. We get no backstory or explanation as to how he came to be. We do get a quick flashback to Pitch during the ‘Dark Ages’, which gives us his motivation as to why he’s doing what he’s doing. But that’s it. We get no other real backstory to how he came to be. Actually, we don’t get that for any of the other Guardians besides Jack Frost. But again, the other Guardians lack of backstory could be forgiven, as none of them are the main characters. But it’s important to tell a villains backstory because it gives the audience something to connect with.

Onto the next question. How exactly did Sandman come back to life?

This is a question that’s actually been on my mind for a while now. How exactly did Sandy come back? In the movie we clearly see him die, so how did he come back from the dead? The only lead I got is that maybe the kids somehow brought him back. During the final confrontation with Pitch, Jamie touches some of the black nightmare sand and it turns gold. It’s later on after that that he looks to the other kids and says, “I know what we have to do,” and they run offscreen for a little while, only for Sandy to show up soon after. Did Sandy come back through the kids believing in him again? Did they preform some sort of ritual to call him back from the dead? Who knows. It’s a dumb nitpick, I know, but I still wonder.

Well, now that I got that out of the way, and the RotG fandom is probably coming after my head, I’ll go over the strengths of this movie. And trust me, these really help the movie stand out.

Strength #1 - The Characters

All the characters in this movie are phenomenal! But to be honest, Jack Frost was the reason I originally wanted to watch this film when it first came out. Growing up I never really heard any stories about Jack Frost, and the only Jack Frost I ever saw in the media was of a withered old man. So seeing him portrayed as a teenager seemed pretty interesting. And the character was handled and written very well. His backstory was intriguing, he had a fun and enjoyable personality, but that’s not all.

One thing that was really great about Jack Frost’s character was his struggle throughout the story, and it’s actually a pretty relatable struggle as well. In the story, Jack Frost starts out not knowing who he really is or why he’s even alive. Not only that, but it seems that no mortals can see him, effectively making him invisible to the entire world. The story follows him as he looks for answers to his identity. 

This can be a very relatable situation, especially for preteens and early teenagers who are still trying to figure themselves out. And most all of us get to this point. We reach a time in our lives, often in our youth, where we start to wonder exactly who/what kind of person we are. Along with the desire to discover ourselves, there is also the fear/feeling of being invisible and isolated, not understanding where we exactly fit in. Again, everyone reaches a place like that as well, where we feel invisible to the world. Just a passerby. Like we have something amazing to share, if only we could get someone to see it. 

The other characters don’t come off as deep or complex as Jack, but that doesn’t make them any less enjoyable. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and Sandman were all very creatively designed and portrayed. A lot of the fun from this movie actually came from all these strong, drastically different personalities clashing with and bouncing off of one another. It made for some fun dialogue and hilarious moments which had me laughing off and on throughout the beginning of the film. 

Strength #2 - The Villain

Pitch Black is, without a doubt, one of my favorite DreamWorks villains. I loved everything about this character. From the voice, the design, the aesthetic, it’s all wonderful! But the one thing that set this villain up above many others was that he straight up killed an important character onscreen.

Reminder, I was twelve when this movie came out, and up until then, I wasn’t often exposed to death scenes like this in animated films. I grew up majorly on Disney animated movies and shows, and when a character died, it was usually offscreen. And on the occasion it was onscreen? The villain only indirectly killed a character. For example, in the Lion King, Scar pushed Mufasa into a gorge where a stampede was taking place. Scar killed him indirectly, as he’s the one who put him there, but the stampede is what really did the work.

But in this case it was much different. It’s not like Pitch took Sandy off to the side and killed him there. No, we legit saw this whole scene happen and play out on screen. When I first saw it, it blew my mind! This was actually kind of new for me! We saw Pitch take that shot at Sandy, and we actually saw Sandy’s final moments as he died. When you have a villain physically kill off a beloved character on screen, it sends a message. It sends the message that this villain isn’t all talk. That this villain really does have great power of their own, and that they are serious about getting what they want. That they aren’t going to let anyone get in their way. They mean business. And that was perfectly executed in this scene. (No pun intended).

Strength #3 - The Creativity and Art

I think it goes without saying that this movie is unbelievably creative! Everything from the locations, animation, and the characters themselves in both personality and design are just bursting with creative energy! The animation is incredibly detailed, and for DreamWorks as an animation studio, I think this has to be some of their best work. The colors, textures, details, and everything in between are just so beautifully done. In terms of creativity, two of the locations I want to talk about are the Tooth Palace and Pitch Black’s lair. 

When it comes to the Tooth Palace, the artists and creators were given a lot of creative freedom. In media there is no set idea of a place where the Tooth Fairy lives or operates. We all know Santa lives in a workshop, and it makes sense to think that the Easter Bunny lives in a Warren, but no one really knows what to expect when it comes to the Tooth Fairy. When we saw the Tooth Palace, we were treated to some highly detailed and stunning imagery, all with a lovely color scheme of soft pinks, purples, and blues with accents of gold. Not to mention the design of the structural design was a spectacle itself to behold.

And then we have Pitch Black’s lair. As a lowkey goth at twelve years old in the early 2010s, the aesthetic here made it one of my favorite parts of the movie. This set here is similar to the Tooth Palace in that, the creators had a greater level of creative freedom, as we never really think about where exactly the Boogeyman lives. I mean, we know he kinda lives under beds, but that doesn’t sound as cool as living in a spooky, gothic underground secret lair. (But in all honesty, I do really enjoy the detail of the entrance of his lair being under an old, broken down bedframe. It’s a very good nod to the old stories).

It’s like a maze. A labyrinth full of shadows, and looks like the interior of an old, gothic castle that’s somewhat tilting into an abyss. It’s color scheme is predominantly full of grays and blacks, and the surprisingly elegant-looking cages hanging from an invisible ceiling really helps to establish a more gothic look. And since the lair is very dark and shadowed, it fits and aids Pitch black perfectly, in that he can morph in and out of shadows as he pleases. This gives him plenty of places to hide as he’s making an effort to mess with and get into Jack’s head.

The last piece of creativity I want to touch on is how the characters are presented. And holy crap after this movie this is the only way I can view Santa, Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, etc.!

They take these beloved characters that we are already familiar with, and, while still somewhat showing them as we know them, present them in an entirely different way. 

We all see Santa Claus as this huge, lovable man with a big belly who’s always jolly. And while that is what we get from this Santa, or North, as they call him, it’s very much flipped on its head. While still jolly, North is very eccentric, high-energy, and is strong-armed, duel broadsword wielding Russian warrior with tattoos. Seriously, who thinks of a Russian warrior when they think of Santa?! Well, now I do! Also the fact that he’s not always super happy like other incarnations of the character. We get to see that he’s very capable of getting both upset and frustrated. It’s a pretty interesting way to humanize such a beloved character.

We then have the Easter Bunny, who is played by Hugh Jackman. Say that out loud. The Easter Bunny is being played by Hugh Jackman. Growing up, me and many other kids saw the Easter Bunny as a small, cute little critter who hopped around the world leaving baskets and painting eggs. Not a tall, boomerang wielding fighter from the Australian outback. Not only that, but giving him a small rivalry with North was interesting, and snot something I ever really thought about. As well as the idea of a the Easter Bunny having somewhat of a temper.

In terms of character design, I feel like both the Tooth Fairy and Sandman had the most creative freedom. We don’t see these two characters often portrayed in media, so they were able to receive some really cool and unique-looking designs. Especially the Tooth Fairy. Did you ever think of the Tooth Fairy looking a like an elegant cross between a beautiful woman and a hummingbird? No, of course you didn’t. But Rise of the Guardians gave us just that, and it truly set its place for it’s own individual take on this childhood legend. 

Pitch Black is a fairy creative villain as well. When you hear about the Boogeyman, you don’t get very scared. The name actually sounds a little silly when you say it out loud. And even then, because of the success of The Nightmare Before Christmas, you usually think of their incarnation of the character when you hear that name. But this version of the character is actually much different. He’s not this weird, in-your-face kind of monster. He’s a very subtle, yet terrifying character. When I first saw the movie in theaters, there were kids in the room crying at moments when Pitch Black came on screen. It’s also interesting the way his powers work. We all grew up knowing the Boogeyman as someone who just hid under beds. We had no idea what magical powers he may or may not have had. So giving him the ability to morph into the darkness and into shadows was a pretty cool concept, but also solidified that he had a weakness. Light.

So, In Conclusion...

As I have gotten older, I admit that this movie does look a little different to me now, versus when I saw it as a preteen. I’ve noticed some interesting flaws here and there, but I’ve also been able to remember why I fell in love with it in the first place. It’s a very different kind of movie, but that’s part of what makes it so much fun and interesting.

The characters are delightful, the villain is intimidating, the story, while awkwardly paced, is still pretty solid, and is all tied together with a great lead character. And as you get invested in the story, you’ll find yourself getting really into the all artistry that went into creating this movie.

At the end of the day, it makes me sad to see the fanbase for this movie slowly dwindling away. But I feel there are always going to be people out there who enjoy this movie. And you know what? You never know what the future holds. Perhaps there will be a movie in the distant future. Or more likely a animated series on either TV or Netflix. And for the hardcore fans, go and read the original books. 

All I can say here is that, every now and again when it starts to get a little nippy outside, I’ll sit in my living room with hot chocolate and give this movie another watch.

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Precious Thing (Jareth x Reader)

Summary: You’re the first human who’s ever wished themselves away

Warnings: Slight themes/discussions of depression (If you ever need someone to talk to, my inbox is always open ♡)

Word Count: 1025

A/N: I’m feeling somewhat inspired so I tried something new! For those of you who don’t know, apart from being a die-hard Queen fan, I’m also a die-hard Bowie fan and Labyrinth is one of my favourite movies ever. I’ve been thinking about extending the range of characters I write for for quite some time and finally thought it’d be worth giving it a go. I understand that many of my followers may not be too interested in this specific piece but that’s okay! First and foremost, this is a Queen blog and I have no plans to stop writing for them any time soon. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this little piece and as always, your feedback is always appreciated ♡

(gif not mine! - all credits to the original creator//he just looks too damn good in this, I couldn’t resist)

The wind whirred past your ears as you weaved between the trees of the thickening forest. You couldn’t quite place where exactly your legs were carrying you, but you needed to get away, and running seemed like your only option. But running from what? Your emotions? Even in your frantic state you realised such a thought was foolish; it wasn’t often that that avoiding emotions wasn’t problematic.

You halted at the edge of a small lake, almost falling in as you did so. Collapsing in exhaustion, you perched yourself on the shore, leaning over to look into the shimmering water. You were met with a blurry reflection of yourself; hair unruly with a stray twig or two tangled amongst the strands and saw your face covered in small cuts and scrapes with some seeping generous amounts blood.

“Someone. Anyone. I wish to be taken away from this wretched place.” You spat through a thin stream of tears, splashing the water with your hand in attempts to rid the surface of your reflection.

Your surroundings went completely silent as a unique, masculine voice called out from amongst the trees, “They’re dangerous words to be saying in an enchanted forest little one,”

“Enchanted?” You sneered mockingly, barely acknowledging the stranger’s presence. The years of fairytales and believing magic were long behind you, the cruelty of the ‘real world’ tarnished your once vibrant imagination long ago.

“Anyone could come and snatch you up.” He continued, stepping out of the shadows and walking slowly with his hands placed behind his back.

Something about his cryptic tone lured you in and you turned to grasp at look at the stranger. He stood tall with a thin albeit muscular frame, long golden locks cascading against his glowing skin; as if it was absorbing the kisses of moonlight. A brown leather jacket with a uniquely shaped collar hung down over his shoulders, a white, low-cut dress shirt flowing out from underneath its folds and exposing much of his chest.

Anyone would’ve been ignorant not to think that he was truly celestial in his appearance.

Despite part of you thinking such things didn’t exist, somewhere deep within yourself, you felt a realisation dawn on you.

“You’re a fae.” You breathed, not fully confident in your assessment and breaking the silence that enveloped you both as you hurried to your feet.

His lips quirked into a smile, a low purr of amusement rumbling in his chest. With sharp, angular features, he looked you up and down. The differing hues of his blue-brown eyes lulled you into a trance-like state as you felt your head growing dizzy from the way he circled you much like a predator to their prey.

“And you’re particularly observant for a human.” He paused in front of you, still smiling softly. After a moment of closer inspection, you were quite surprised to find a lack of deceit in his demeanour.

You were slightly taken aback by his statement, not fully believing you hadn’t hit your head while running and weren’t vividly hallucinating. Deciding to test the waters and possibly your sanity, you formulated the most simple of questions, “Who are you?”

“My name is Jareth.” He smirked, brows quirking. Almost as a display of trust, he approached you carefully and raised his hand to hover over your face. You winced lightly as the feeling of tiny pinpricks penetrated your skin but found that after he pulled away and you swept a finger over your cheek, the blood that once stained you skin had disappeared. You looked up at him in awe, mouth slightly agape as you traced over where your wounds were only seconds prior.

“But tell me little one.” Jareth said softly, brushing away a stray strand of hair. “What has you running into the forest this late at night?”

Coming back to your senses for just a moment, you realised just how impossible the whole situation was. However what concerned you most was the lack of fear in your conscience. You were always taught that strangers were not to be trusted, and your childhood stories told you that fae weren’t the safest folk either, which is why you felt your comfort around the man jarring. Something about him felt painfully familiar, despite never meeting him previously.

“I am homesick for a place that I’m not sure even exists,” You sighed, the words spilling out of your mouth before you even had time to process them. The fae titled his head at you inquisitively in response, silently encouraging you to continue.

“I feel nothing but numb. I have this longing for a place where I am loved and where my heart is full. I have no desire to continue living here if I continue to feel so lost.” Hastily you swiped the tears from your eyes, not wanting to completely breakdown in his presence.

Should you of known him prior to your current meeting, you would have realised that the look in Jareth’s eyes was not a regular one.

Sympathy.

“Human lives are far too short for an existence such as this one,” He proclaimed before outstretching his hand in your direction. “Come with me and I shall give you the life you’ve always wanted.”

His declaration made your stomach flutter with hope, but the smallest part of you was still sceptical, “What makes you want to help me?���

“I’ve never heard someone wish themselves away before. You interest me, you’re not afraid to show the scars on your heart.” He answered solemnly, his hand still and unwavering.

The slightest smile on his face was genuine and hopeful, and despite it being so impossible, the greater part of you felt that this was so right. Tentatively, you reached your hand out to meet his own, stopping just before you touched his skin.

“And how long will you let me stay with you?”

“Only forever my dear.” Those words were all you needed to hear and with the brightest smile, you grasped his hand quickly. Warmth radiated through your entire body as the world you once knew dissolved into your new life with Jareth at your side.

[brokenjardaantech]

captain allen appreciation week 2020 day 5: scars

me: tries to write a short

my brain: how bout some sexy time?

notes: set in the same universe as day 1+7. it is half a year after the android revolution. allen’s dating 60 who’s non-binary and is using they/them pronouns, so i tried to avoid gender-specific vocab for 60 here. please let me know if i fucked up.

warning: smut ahead

----

Decimus starts with the small one on the back of Lou’s left hand. ‘This one?’

‘It’s stupid,’ the human says, reclining further into the permanent pillow for his bed has become after the android moved in. He looks down at his significant other using his chest as a pillow and is met with soft, large, puppy dog eyes which seems to be Decimus’ constant except during missions. 

‘Please?’ Des asks with a pout. Before Lou can react, they have already brought the hand to their mouth and given the scar a lick. 

Fucking androids. ‘Fine,’ the human’s voice is filled with fond exasperation. ‘It’s from a bug bite. Scratched it so hard that I broke skin. I used to have a few more, but they faded throughout the years.’

Decimus kisses the raised patch of skin with the reverence as if it is something precious. Smoothing his hand from above Lou’d belly button to his neck, they return to the human’s collarbone where a long scar sits. ‘And this one?’

Lou sighs, his smile turning sad. ‘When Anna and I first moved from Alaska. I nearly got mugged. She saved my life that day.’

The android kisses the pale, smooth piece of flesh. Lou doesn’t stop them as they start nibbling on it. ‘How?’

‘There was...this scaffold,’ Lou’s voice becomes distant. ‘Anna collapsed it on the muggers. Only one survived.’

Decimus frowns. ‘I’m...sorry.’

‘It’s a long time ago,’ the human buries his hand in the android’s hair and plants a kiss there. With his nose buried in synthetic strands, he murmurs, ‘I’ve made peace with it.’

‘That your sister kills so freely?’

‘And more.’

Decimus’ LED spins yellow, and Lou knows that they’re processing the news. He had no one to talk to about Anna until he and Decimus crossed paths, and by the time the android helps him realize how fucked up everything was, he is already numb to most of it.

Des lifts their head only when they’re satisfied with the bruise they have sucked into their boyfriend’s skin. Supporting themself on their arms, they glide their naked body against Lou’s until they can nuzzle the long, thin scar behind the human’s ear along his hairline. ‘And this?’

‘Neural implant,’ Lou holds the android closer and exchanges a chaste kiss. ‘Helps me control my biotics, weak as they are.’

Decimus shifts and kisses Lou’s nose where a thin scar sits. ‘You’re already better than a lot of people. How about this one?’

‘’Cause they don’t even know biotics are a thing, Des.’ As if to demonstrate his point, he shrouds his hand in a blue halo. ‘Compared to you, Connor, Anna, Ryder… I can barely move my phone from one side of a table to another without wrecking anything else. And that’s from Anna accidentally punching me too hard when I taught her how to fight.’

The android hums, not quite agreeing with their boyfriend on his biotics but not exactly disagreeing either. Two fingers trace the twin scars above Lou’s left eyebrow, and before Des asks, the human explains, ‘Car crash. Some idiot rammed their car into the but I was taking. The window shattered and cut me.’

Decimus kisses them and does the same to the two forming an inverted Y under their boyfriend’s eye. ‘And this?’

Lou’s expression visibly darkens. ‘Ryder.’ A deep breath. Knowing that nothing good comes from their creator, Des kisses those scars as well to try to soothe the pain both physical and emotional. ‘She had her skin on so I didn’t know that she was converted into an android. The building was collapsing, she was blocking the only exit, and I really wanted to live to see Anna getting promoted. So I tried to fight her. Needless to say, a fleshy human is no match for an android who has a chassis of metal and biotics. By the time she’s finished with me, she already broke my legs. She could’ve left me to die there.’

‘But she didn’t,’ Des says, their voice distant. ‘She crushed you with a building as if what she had done to you wasn’t enough.’

‘I’m here now.’

They kiss deeply, and Decimus’ hands slide downwards along smooth planes of muscles and stop at the bottom of Lou’s rib cage.

A thick, pink line runs along the bottommost rib. ‘How?’ they ask.

‘Complex fracture of the rib,’ is the reply. ‘Feel this?’ Lou holds Decimus’ hand and guides smooth finders along the bone. The android nods. ‘Most of it is titanium now. A few screws hold it in place.’

Des buries their face in Lou’s abs. ‘Must have hurt.’

The human combs through the android’s hair and cups their jaw, the latter leaning into the firm but gentle touch. Sea-green eyes meet synthetic brown, both pairs equally warm. ‘I was out for most of it,’ Lou explains. ‘The only pain I felt is realizing that I was the only one to have survived the blast,’ he tears his gaze away as his jaw stiffens, ‘and sacrificing part of my humanity in doing so.’

‘Lou -’

‘Don’t worry, it’s been a long time,’ Lou brushes the stray curl of hair which never seems to stick to the coif just to see it flop down again. His hand stays on the back of Decimus’ neck. ‘I may never forgive what Anna did, but it saved my life. I get to live to have met you.’

A sad, sideways smile from the android, their eyes somehow managing to get even more watery. Des moves further down, the sensors in their fingertips allowing them to find out precisely where organic skin ends and gives way to flexible polymer and synthskin, and they press their lips there. A proof of concept that artificial intelligence and organic creations can co-exist. Then they kiss him once more, this time closer to his belly button and the V of his legs. Their tongue darts out to taste the blend of sweat and something not organic that blends into what Decimus associates with Lou. Licking and kissing a trail to the human’s shaft, Des slowly lets information flood their processors until Lou is his entire world. They look up when they’re bare inches from their mark. ‘Is this alright?’

The large hand in their hair grounds them. Dilated pupils, heavy breaths, increased blood and thirium flow throughout his system and heart rate. Decimus knows the answer before Lou opens his mouth.

‘Go on, Des.’ Then in French, ‘But I want to be in you later.’

Des shivers from the promise which they know Lou will deliver. As they kiss and lick his shaft with both hands wrapped around the base, the taste of Lou overwhelming their sensors and processors, their entrance clutches involuntarily and futilely against the onslaught of the first gush of slick, and they can feel the thirium-based lubricant sliding warmly down his thighs and drips onto the bed, onto their own and even Lou’s legs. Closing their lips around the head and tasting Lou’s precome, they can’t help but whine around the cock in their mouth, the emptiness amplified by the low throb of their own organ.

‘Prepare yourself if you want to,’ Lou says, and that is all the permission Decimus needs before reaching down with their left hand and shoves not one but two fingers immediately into the wet heat, stretching tight synthetic muscles to search for the bundle of sensors which serves as an erogenous zone while their mouth sinks down to take more of Lou’s dick, and when the head touches their throat, tears which have been threatening to fall since the beginning from the sheer intensity of their deeds rolls down Des’ cheek just to be wiped away gently by callused fingers. Lips still stretched around Lou’s member, Decimus risks looking up and immediately has to shut their eyes: the trust, the adoration, the love - it is too much.

Their fingers finding the sensors sends them over the edge. Lubricant gushes out from both their entrance and their untouched cock, their entire body quivering and barely able to support themself, and no matter how hard slick, warm walls clutch around their fingers, it is not enough. Faintly, they can hear Lou’s constant reassurance - ‘So good for me, I’m here. I trust you. Take your time.’ - but it isn’t until the man has to tug Decimus’ hair that they notice that they’ve been trying but failing to take Lou down their throat. Their jaw, for the lack of a better term, hurts. ‘Lou, I -’

‘Shh, come here.’

Lou pulls Decimus up and flips them over so that he is lying on top of them, his face hovering mere inches from the androids to force him to look at nothing else but him. When he reaches to wipe away their tears, Des’ skin deactivates wherever their bodies are touching, and the human doesn’t need to look down to know that the skin covering his cybernetics is completely gone. 

They are interfacing.

Although the connection is shallow, it manages to calm Des down just fine, and soon the full-body wrecks are reduced to no more than the occasional sob and tremble, which is normal for the android after every orgasm. All Lou wants to do right now is to bend them in half and fuck them to standby mode, but they had set up a few rules when they started dating, and making sure that both parties are in to go on is one of them. Ignoring his raging erection and peppering Decimus’ tear-soaked face with kisses, he asks, somehow reverting to French, ‘You alright?’

Des wraps their limbs around him tightly. No, they admit through the interface, voice echoing directly in Lou’s head, but I want you in me. Please.

Oh, that he can do. ‘Who am I to deny that?’

Lou leans down to kiss his love deeply and filthily, making sure that his spit is on every single tiny little sensor on the android’s tongue while he spreads their legs even further apart and pushes in. Des’ lips tears away in a wail, and, knowing what the android wants through their connection, he doesn’t wait before nearly pulling out completely and slams back home, setting a brutal pace that coaxes all kinds of sounds and reactions from them, a high-pitched, static-laced whine here, a crackle of blue there lighting up the entire bedroom and reflecting off their exposed chassis. He finds the bundle of sensors within him and rams into it again and again, and the screams of pleasure-pain that tears themselves from Des’ voice box are stronger than any aphrodisiac, encouraging him to go on and to take whatever he needs - Decimus is here to give.

A soft brush of his hand against Des’ cock is enough to wring another orgasm out of the android. Once thought to be impossible, their entrance got slicker, lubricant flowing freely out from both ends, and the tightening of wet, hot muscles around him sends Lou spilling inside them. He collapses in a sweaty mess on top of the android, and Decimus, so utterly wrecked, can’t stop trembling and crying from oversensitivity and their overwhelming emotions, their arms still wrapped tightly around Lou’d broad shoulders like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a piece of driftwood.

They have to stop holding their boyfriend for a while after Lou catches his breath and gets up to get some wet towels from the bathroom. After wiping most of the fluids on their bodies away (the amount of slick never ceases to make Decimus blush), the human also removes the soiled blankets and sheets and pillows from the fort and tosses them into the washing machine, allowing them to sleep on clean linen without doing something drastic such as stripping the bed entirely.

When he emerges still completely nude from the shower, he isn’t surprised that Decimus hasn’t reactivated all their skin yet. He also isn’t surprised that the android winds themself around him like an affectionate octopus, and in this proximity, he finally notices the slight dent in the chassis on Des’ forehead; when he tries to touch it, they bury their face in the crook of Lou’s neck, essentially disallowing the human a second look on what he guesses is a scar.

Both of them are asleep before Lou can think of its implications.

[ograndebatata]

After The Storm

So... if I had to guess, this must be some sort of very absurd record. 

Explaining a bit better what I mean, I wrote this for the weekly challenge in the EoA Discord server, for the prompts ‘Future’ and ‘Dancing’.

Needless to say, it’s beyond late, and I honestly don’t know how well it meets either of those prompts. 

But I liked it enough to want to finish it and post it... so here it is.

I hope you like it. 

Note: Like the bulk of my Elena of Avalor fics, this one is set in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. However, in this particular fic, I feel there isn’t anything glaringly incompatible with canon, so I think it can be read blind ‘fairly well’. Again, I tried my best to make it strong enough to stand on its own, but readers will tell me if I succeeded.

Note #2:  I don’t own the lyrics to the song ‘Once Upon a Dream’ used below. They belong to their respective creators, just as the Elena of Avalor main universe and any elements you recognize from it belong to their respective creators.

With this said, please check below the cut for the actual ficlet.

///    

After The Storm

In the Kingdom of Aravallia, February 19th, Year 9147 of the Ever Realm Calendar...

Trying to hold back the concerned frown that tugged at his face, Fiero strode fluidly through the beach’s wet sand, his tamborita thrust out before him as it sent an invisible magical ripple across the sand to clear a trail through the leaves and twigs and other bits of litter that had been blown across the sand by the previous night’s weather. Some might call him squeamish, but he wasn’t in the mood to keep flinching whenever he stepped on something sharp with bare feet, and the only other person around to see what he was doing wouldn’t think poorly of him if she saw him.

Which she didn’t. Because she wasn’t facing him. Like she had been about half an hour ago, Gracia was staring into the horizon as she stood by the water’s edge, her long black hair flowing in the wind, the pink wrap and yellow sundress she wore contrasting against her dark skin as they undulated around her,  the dress' hem swaying  around her legs and flapping against her tamborita, which she held in her left hand.

 From a distance, she’d seem alright to a casual observer. But Fiero had always been perceptive. Even two years ago, when he first met Gracia, he had been able to tell she was different from all other malvagos he had met. If he had seen her like this back then, he would have been able to tell how sad she was in the way her head hung slightly, in the edge of a slump to her shoulders. Now that he and Gracia had grown so close, had learned to read each other like written pages, she wouldn’t be able to trick him even if she wanted to, just like he knew he knew was true with him regarding her.

Of course, neither would try it by now. Even before they had come to an understanding, they had barely been able to treat each other like threats. Now that they had grown so close, neither would even consider trying anything underhanded towards the other.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Gracia’s shoulders briefly rose, then dropped again, her body shuddering in what seemed like a deep sigh. Again, Fiero’s face itched to shift into a concerned frown, joined by a weight in his chest and a shiver that washed over him as the wind briefly picked up, no doubt aided by the large cloud that kept blocking the sun, even though most of the others had cleared away to reveal a pristine morning sky. 

Perhaps leaving her alone while I made breakfast wasn't the best idea. He thought.

A slight pang sank into his heart at the thought. He had meant well when he did so - he’d only wanted to give her a warm meal to enjoy when she came back - but now that she had stayed outside for so long, not to mention wearing only a dress in this weather, he started to get worried. While he did want to respect the fact she might want to be alone, he also didn’t want to leave her in pain without trying to comfort her. He knew from personal experience that having no support when one was in pain was not pleasant. 

To put it mildly. He thought, the old scars from all the times that had happened to him briefly flaring up.

The breeze picked up around him, stronger, chillier, sending a second shiver through him before it settled down again. No doubt, his white t-shirt and light grey trousers weren’t the best outfit to shield him from this weather, especially with the latter pulled up to mid-calf. Gracia had to be feeling it even more, standing barefoot in the surf with the occasional wave washing over her feet and ankles, but she didn’t even flinch. Either she withstood it better than him, or she was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t even notice. 

Yes, she had her wrap over her dress, and could use her tamborita to cast a spell to warm herself if she needed, and even without it she was powerful and skilled enough to use her magic to do so. But still, he couldn't help but worry. 

Don't be like that. He told himself. She's an adult woman who's about as powerful a malvago as you. She can take care of herself.

His concern didn't fade. He knew that was all true, and he also knew he couldn't be consumed by worry all the time, but he couldn't just not worry to any degree, especially when he knew she was hurting.

The ground under his feet suddenly became even colder, an edge of actual wetness meeting his skin as he stepped onto the sand by the water's edge. He lowered his tamborita and retracted his magic; there was no litter to clear away here. The weight in his chest grew as he got a close look at Gracia, clutching her wrap to her with her right hand, the pain and sadness she emanated ever more visible, as if he was approaching a campfire. 

In a way, it was expected, for lack of a better term. Gracia was only human, and life hadn’t been kind to her recently. But it being expected didn’t make him feel better. The idea of her being in pain cut him up inside like a row of knives. Gracia had already been dealt far too much suffering; she didn’t need any more. 

And yet, life kept giving her further helpings of it. 

It’s not fair. Fiero thought, pain cutting through his heart as he finally got close enough to see her violet eyes, glistening with unshed tears. It’s just not fair.

The urge to rush over and wrap his arms around Gracia came over him. He pushed it back and stopped, then cleared his throat, careful to be loud enough to be heard over a distance. 

She started as if she was coming out of a trance, her tamborita swaying slightly with her movement.

“Fiero?” she asked as she turned to face him, showing him that, instead of the heavier makeup she wore with her malvaga outfit, she had chosen a more subdued look to go with the sundress. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up when I left?”

Before he could answer, she blinked, her eyes briefly widening. He guessed she had somehow noticed how much time had passed. So whether she’d noticed the chill or not, she had indeed been lost in her thoughts. 

The concerned frown pulled at his face yet again. Pushing it back, he smiled, closed the gap between them. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he reassured, running the backs of his fingers from her cheekbone to her chin. “And even if you had, you wouldn’t need to apologize,” he added as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

He said nothing else as he slid his hand away from her ear, cupping Gracia’s cheek. A hint of light returned to her eyes, her lips curling upwards as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. Then, she stepped closer to him, stretching up a bit. Mirroring her motion, Fiero leaned down, his lips meeting hers, their mouths lingering together before they drew apart.

Then, as he straightened himself, her nose scrunched up, her right eyebrow arching. 

The shift in expression working as well as a verbal question, Fiero explained. “Breakfast is ready.���

Her eyebrow arched another fraction, her nose scrunching up again. “What is it?” 

“Misto quente,” he replied, caressing her cheek again.  “Your favorite.” His need to be specific protesting in the back of his mind, he added, “It’s a bit different from the one made in Paraiso, but it's the best I could do with what’s sold in Aravallia.”

Her smile widened slightly. 

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Despite her words, she made no move to walk back to their cottage, or any kind of move, other than letting her mouth fall back into a frown. 

The weight on his chest seeming to turn into a crack on his heart, Fiero moved his hand down and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, her eyebrows knit together as if she was deciding what to do. Then magic flowed out of her right hand and into her wrap, two of its corners twistingly themselves together into a knot. Once the garment was secure around her shoulders, she switched her tamborita to her right hand and settled her left arm around his back. Wordlessly, Fiero drew her into him, her full figure settling against his lean profile as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

A wave washed over their feet. Fiero flinched in surprise, but no shiver came over him, the water somehow warmer than the air.

“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen to every word,” he whispered into her hair.

Her left arm curled around his torso, her cheek shifting with her deepening frown, the change conveyed even through his t-shirt.

“Is there really anything I can say?” she murmured, snuggling her cheek into his shoulder.

He kissed her hair. “I understand if there isn't."

She curled her fingers more tightly over his side, a long exhale mixed with a pained whimper flowing from her. Again, Fiero kissed her hair. A softer, calmer sigh flowed from her, her form relaxing slightly against his’.

For a while, they stood in silence, the quietude broken only by the hushed murmurs of the breaking waves and the occasional caws of seabirds.

Then, Gracia found her voice.

“I suppose there really isn’t anything to say.” She took a breath, the sound telling Fiero she was either considering if there was anything to say after all or if she wanted to say it to begin with. “I just… I'm just still having trouble taking it all in. I’ve known my family was not very family-like for a long time, but that it has people who would go as far as they did…” She fell silent, her fingers loosening against him. “It's just... difficult to deal with.”

Fiero didn’t say anything. He simply kept his arm around Gracia’s shoulders.

“I admit that, in a sense, it shouldn’t be so shocking,” Gracia went on. “I’ve been a malvaga for over seventeen years. And I've met plenty of rotten people even before I was a malvaga. And I’ve seen my share of families who don’t act like families at all. And yet…”

She trailed off, briefly tensing up against him as if forcefully holding back the memories of the unpleasant discovery she had made. Fiero drew her even further into him, his other hand curling more tightly around his tamborita’s handle. 

“I’m sorry you got such a short end of the stick when it comes to family,” he breathed. “And that you learned what those four are like in the way you did.” 

Again, she curled her fingers over his side, her left hand running up and down his ribcage. “Don’t be. It’s better that I got to know. At least now I definitely won’t hold any illusions that things could have been different. Not with the four of them anyway.” She paused again, a shaky breath flowing out of her. “Still…”

Again, the words died in her mouth, her hand loosening again. Another wave washed over their feet, covering them up to their ankles. This time, it was followed by another stronger gust of chilly wind, the ambience around them darkening a fraction, as if the weather itself had decided to try and make them shiver. Neither of them blinked.

“You don’t need to explain,” Fiero soothed. He slid his hand from her shoulders and caressed up and down her back. “These things are always difficult to deal with. Especially when they happen to us personally.”

Again, Gracia didn’t give a verbal response, but the way she leaned against him, tired and drained while at the same time tense, spoke for her well enough. 

“I can’t help but be shocked also,” he went on. “I’ve been a malvago for almost thirty years, I ran into plenty of nasty bastards even when I was a wizard, and I got to see firsthand how charming your family is, even before everything happened. Still, to learn what those four wanted to do to you...” 

He cut himself off, an invisible foot suddenly kicking him. He’d gone more than far enough. 

“Point is, if I feel like this, I can only imagine how you feel,” he finished.

Another deep, tired sigh flowed out of Gracia’s mouth. Then, he felt her shifting against him as her cheek left his chest and her arm pulled away from him. Looking down, his green eyes met her violet ones, the crack in his heart growing at the sheer pain within them. 

“You know the worst part?” 

Fiero curled his eyebrow in a silent question. 

A briefer tired breath leaving her mouth, she replied, “On how I said it shouldn't be so shocking… In a way, it actually isn't shocking at all, considering what they have always been like. Looking back on it, the writing was always on the wall. I really should have known their natures from the beginning, rather than held any hopes about them.” 

Another sigh crawled out of her, slow and heavy as if she was trying to exhale wet clay. Pain flared up in his chest as if both halves of his heart were being pushed apart. A lump started to settle in the back of his throat. He gulped to force it back, curled his arm more tightly around Gracia as he kissed her hair again. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered. “ It’s not on you.” 

Her gaze shifted towards the sand at his words, self-reproach all too plain in her eyes. The pain in his own chest throbbed harder. A wave ran over their feet once more.

"Please, look at me,” Fiero begged, his voice thick from the effort he was making to keep it calm and soothing, rather than filled with all the anger he felt towards Gracia’s so-called family. 

Slowly, Gracia’s eyes turned up to his, pain roiling in their depths more intensely than ever before, just as the landscape around them seemed to grow darker once more, as if a thicker layer of cloud cover had just gotten before the sun. Carefully, Fiero brought his other hand up and, stretching his fingers as well as he could without losing his grip on his tamborita, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“It’s not on you,” he repeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried to follow their values as well as you could without compromising your own, you tried to step into their shoes time and again, you tried to give them the benefit of doubt multiple times, to believe there could be a sliver of kindness hidden deep within them, to help them when they needed even though they never showed a sliver of gratitude for, and yet all of them treated you like dirt.” 

A reminder flaring in the back of his mind, he added as he lowered his hand, “Well, almost all. But most of them treated you like dirt. And those four monsters actually started plotting to have you killed just so they’d get their hands on your money. And yet when their plot was discovered, they tried to beg for mercy by appealing to the fact they’re family!” 

He winced as he suddenly realized his voice had started to slip into a shout. He knew Gracia knew him well enough to understand he wasn’t angry at her, but he still didn’t want to further upset her by raising his voice.

Nevertheless, he seemed to have built up enough bile that he couldn’t avoid rolling his eyes and adding, “It’s beyond belief. They try to frame you for murder so you’ll be hanged and then say they’re family the moment they realize you found out their plot.” A sharp scoff blasted out of him. “Family, my…” Catching himself as he realized the word he was about to utter, he said instead, blood rushing to his cheeks, “Well, my that certain body part which is located on the side directly opposite to my front side, on the region right below my waist.” 

A bout of laughter bubbled out of Gracia, a happy glow blooming in her eyes. Though his cheeks kept blazing, Fiero smiled at the sound, feeling every muscle in his body loosening from it.  

“Are you sure your phrasing was verbose enough?” Gracia drawled once her laughter faded, her smooth contralto a fraction deeper and huskier than usual. “You might have been able to add two or three more sentences to that description.”

Unsure of what to say, Fiero could only shrug, though none of the defensiveness from his youth flared up within him. With Gracia, he always knew that when she teased him or poked fun at him, she did not mean to offend or hurt him.

“Well, what I said was specific enough already, I figure,” he said in an affected nonchalant tone, the red in his cheeks fading.

A mirthful spark in her eyes, her smirk shifted into a tender smile as she briefly curled her fingers around his side again, running a brief caress over his ribs. 

His voice calmer, Fiero went on, “Point is, they were just rotten, period. And they were beyond lucky that they not only lived to see another day but didn't even end up in prison. If they still want to be dirtbags rather than try to better themselves, it’s on them, not on you.”

Gracia’s smirk returned, though this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Knowing what was on her mind, he added, an edge of tension creeping into his voice, “Not those four in particular. 'Greedy heartless monsters' would be more appropriate for them. 'Dirtbags' is a label for your other relatives.” The same reminder from before flaring up again, he added, “Other than Esha and Anjali and Lavanya. And their husbands and children, as far as I can tell. But that still leaves literal dozens of people in your family who are…” 

This time, he was the one trailing off, his mind drawing a blank on a word good enough to refer to the kind of people most of Gracia’s relatives were. Still, her arm slipped down to his waist as her face fell. 

“I know.” 

The weight over his heart returning, Fiero pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. 

He knew he was repeating himself, but he meant what he said now as much as he did before.

He felt her face leaning away from his shoulder, though her arm moved up to rest over his ribs once more. He looked down; their gazes met again. 

“It's alright,” she replied. “You did nothing wrong either. You don't need to apologize.”

A long sigh washed out of him. He drew her back into him, as she let her head rest on his shoulder again.

"I only wish I could actually do something about this."

///

Hearing the sorrow in his voice, Gracia leaned up and put a kiss to Fiero's cheek, briefly pressing her hand to his side as she did so, feeling the breeze blowing over them both.

She knew he meant what he said, but she'd never dream of asking him to do more than he already did.

He looked out for her well being, he tried to help her to the best of his abilities, he listened to her when she wanted to talk, he always respected her boundaries, and he was there for her. 

That was all she could ask him to do.

She knew him wanting to do more for her meant that he cared, but she also knew that there were things he just could not do. All magic had its limits, and malvago magic in particular was very limited when it came to things unrelated to destruction. Having been a malvaga for as long as she had, Gracia knew that from personal experience. And even ignoring those limits, there were lines that no person with a sliver of decency and humanity crossed, and Fiero had much more than a sliver of either. 

It was more than she could say of many people she had met, including some who claimed to be paragons of virtue, only to turn out nastier than some fairy tale villains.

Like ‘those four’ as Fiero had labeled them. They claimed to walk the path of righteousness, to follow the values of old, and then they had tried to have her killed, and for such a mercenary reason to boot.

Not that any reason would have been good, but doing it only because they wanted her money to add it to their very much not-paltry fortune… It was just… it was just beyond low.

Don’t think about that anymore. An inner voice tried to insist. It’s not worth it. They're not worth it. 

A knot materializing in her chest at the thought, she took a deep breath, mentally pushing back the remains of the whirlwind within her as if the air she took in would do the job. Not thinking about them was easier said than done, especially after what they had done to her.

Having taken the deepest breath she could, she released, willing herself to let it out calm and slow, yet with purposefulness flowing through her. As the air rushed out of her, Fiero rubbed his shoulder over her wrap, pressing his lips to her hair once more, his embrace tightening a bit again.

‘It's alright.’ She read in his touch, even through the fabric. ‘Take all the time you need.’

Turning her head slightly upwards once more, she gave him another smile. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in response as he rubbed another circle over her shoulder.  

Her smile widening, she closed her eyes as she took another breath, slightly faster and shallower than the last, but still allowing the salty air to flow into her lungs, to mentally will what she could only call its ‘calming essence’ to flow through her being. Just as she let it out, the breeze around her softened, grew warmer, everything around them and their own bodies seeming to lighten a few shades, the sun finally peeking through the clouds. Another wave washed up the beach, moving past them until it rose past their ankles. Then, as it retreated, it seemed to take yet another bit of her inner turmoil with her, the knot in her chest softening further. 

A small sigh trickling out of her, Gracia nestled her head into Fiero’s shoulder, pressing her hand to his side once. Thinking about something else might be easier said than done, but it was better to do it than dwell on what those four had done just for the sake of it. And a good way to start thinking about something else was to start talking about something else.

Fortunately, while enjoying each other's company in silence was not a problem for them, finding things to talk about wasn't either.

Her gaze met his’ as she spoke up.

“Speaking of doing, is there anything you'd like to do once we get to Bansagubat? Other than following up on the lead we found on the Scepter of Night, I mean?” 

He blinked at her question, confusion flickering in his gaze. She knew without having to ask that he'd found her change of subject sudden. But she also knew that he'd go along with it as long as her attempt at not dwelling on the recent events didn't fail.

Sure enough, his brow furrowed into the focused look he often assumed when he was in deep thought, though he didn't bring up his left hand to hold its thumb and forefinger to his chin, due to the tamborita he held.

“I don't think so,” he replied after some time. “At least for now. I don't know enough about Bansagubat to have an idea of what to do there.” He cocked his head to the side, curling an eyebrow. “What about you, mi alma? Is there anything you'd like to do?"

He punctuated his second question with a knowing grin, telling her he'd guessed the basics of her answer. 

Gracia smirked in response. He did know her well...

“Indeed there is, mi amado,” she replied, her voice a fraction lower and slower again.

His knowing grin widened a fraction.

"Any chance I can know exactly what it is?"

Gracia started opening her mouth to reply, but the teasing tune she was mustering faded like a snuffed candle as she realized a few things. 

"I'd tell you if I knew, but I'm not sure yet myself. It will depend on how long we stay there, and on where we have to go to find our next clue, if it even exists to begin with."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare at the thought, Fiero's expression mirroring hers, both recalling how many fake clues on the Scepter of Night’s whereabouts there seemed to exist throughout the world.

“But there are quite a few dancing festivals in Bansagubat, at many places and at many times of the year," Gracia went on before her mind could start wandering down another bad path. "I’d like to be able to go to a few. Or then take a few classes on the local dances, if I find any. Maybe do both things, if we find the time.”

Her chest seemed to grow lighter as she went on, a familiar giddiness rushing through her at that line of thought. She had only been to Bansagubat once, and the stay had been too brief for her to do much of anything, but she had read about the kingdom, and, more relevantly to her tastes, about its dances. It was true that seeing drawings and reading descriptions on the written page didn’t compare to the real thing by any means, but the authors had been good enough that she could join the picture and the text to somewhat visualize what the real dances were like. And even if she hadn’t, she had always liked learning new dances, and Bansagubat had plenty that she wanted to learn.

A faint shift in Fiero’s face brought her back to reality - his knowing grin had become a fond one, no doubt at the view of the joy she felt bubbling within her and which she now realized had spilled over onto her features. 

That was one of the things she loved about him. While she knew he didn’t hate dancing per se, she also knew he wasn’t particularly fond of it. But he still wholeheartedly loved seeing her so happy doing something  she loved, and was genuinely happy to do it with her just because it made her happy. 

“I don’t see us staying at Bansagubat for less than several months,” he said. “I think we’ll find the time for that." He pursed his lips shut, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Or, if you’d rather I did so, I can also read up on Tolome’s treasure on my own while you have your dance classes and we read up on it together whenever you’re not in class or practicing.”

He winced right after he spoke, as if he thought he’d just put his foot in his mouth with his suggestion. Giving him a comforting smile, Gracia shifted around so that she now stood before him, her hand flowing from around his back to rest on his shoulder, on cue with another wave washing over their feet. The landscape seemed to grow a few more shades around them, though this time the breeze strengthened for a moment, as if unsure of whether to let up or intensify. 

“I get what you mean,” she told him. “And I don’t mind going to classes for some of those dances on my own. But we find classes for some others, I confess I was hoping you’d come with me.” Suddenly afraid of how her words might be taken, she added, “But I will accept if you don’t.” 

She punctuated her sentence with a calm smile to reinforce her words, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. She would indeed like it if Fiero went to classes for those specific dances with her, but she wouldn’t try to force him to if he really didn’t want to. Even before her time with her family, she knew how awful it was to be forced into things one didn’t want to do.

At first, Fiero’s forehead crinkled in puzzlement. Gracia knew without asking that he was wondering what kind of dances she might want him to go along on. But then, his warm smile returned as he raised his now free hand to rest it on her cheek, running a slow, tender caress over it.

“I’ll go with you,” he whispered. “Whatever the kind of dances you’re talking about, as long as you want me to go with you, I will.”

Gracia’s smile widened a bit further, her whole being suddenly lightening. It might be the kind of line too easily uttered, but again, she knew just from his tone and expression that Fiero was doing it willingly, because he knew it would make her happy. The fact he hadn’t even asked what dances she was talking about only reinforced it.

She snapped out of her thoughts as a hint of a scowl returned to Fiero’s face, as if something had just reminded him of an unpleasant memory. 

A frown replacing her smile, she asked, "What’s the matter?"

Putting his smile back in place, Fiero reached down and held her hand in his’, raising it up until it was level with their chests.

“Nothing serious,” he soothed. “Just a few bad memories of the last time I had dance classes.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a bit wider, a mix of amazement and realization pricking at her.

“So you did have dance classes…” Again reading a silent question in Fiero’s face, she explained, “I thought you had them from the first time I danced with you. You danced far too well to be a novice. But I confess it does seem a bit surprising.”

His own smile still in place, he briefly squeezed her hand more tightly. 

“I know. I didn’t ever think I’d have dance classes before I started them either. Dancing was never among my top-favorite activities until we started seeing one another.” Again wincing right after his sentence, he added, “Not that I ever hated it, but…”

He trailed off, unease creeping up into his eyes. Smiling again, Gracia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. 

“I understand. I liked learning magic well enough when I was younger, but I didn’t throw myself into it until I became a malvaga.” Feeling the shadow of more unpleasant memories starting to creep over her, she went on before they could settle in. “Though now I’m curious on why you had dance classes if you didn’t particularly like dancing.” 

Fiero’s shoulders dropped at the question. This time, a sigh actually flowed out of him, his hand slipping off of hers. Gracia knew without having to ask that whatever he was recalling, it was not pleasant. 

But before she could tell him he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to, he explained,  “I felt I should when I started training to be the Royal Wizard of Avalor.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a fraction wider. 

“What does dancing have to do with being a Royal Wizard?”

He sighed again.

“Nothing. But I wanted to destroy any possible grounds for criticism. They included failing to mingle and dance during formal events. So besides studying up on all the magic I could, I started learning other things I thought would help me for when I became Royal Wizard. Ballroom dancing was one of them. I was never actually tested on that during my so-called exam, but I guess that’s just as well, because my instructor said that if I didn’t get rid of the snake-like edge to my movements, I’d always be a lost cause.”

Gracia’s face hardened, her eyebrows settling into a straight line, her blood suddenly warmer.

She already knew enough about Fiero’s time trying to be the Royal Wizard to be angry on his behalf at pretty much everyone involved, but it still seemed that the more she learned, the more reasons she found to be angry. It still didn’t excuse what he had ended up doing, of course, but Fiero himself had always acknowledged such a fact whenever they talked about it, and just because she didn’t excuse the way he had snapped it didn’t mean she couldn’t feel sorry for him. As personally motivated as he might have been to a degree, Gracia knew Fiero had also wanted the post because he wanted to help people. Yet, it just kept turning out that more and more people involved in the game were against him, and for all sorts of nonsensical reasons at that.

And to think people from Paraiso were seen by Avalorans as high and mighty jerks, more shallow and vain than parrots! If she ever got to meet those particular Avalorans, she’d certainly have a few choice words for them on that matter. 

But most of them were dead anyway, and if they hadn’t been able to recognize Fiero’s worth before, her ripping them a new one wouldn’t do anything on that front. Not to mention that, unfortunately in every sense of the word, Fiero couldn't be a Royal Wizard anyway. Malvagos couldn’t be Royal Wizards because of the limits to their magic, and once wizards became malvagos, there was no way for them to be wizards again.

Some of her anger drained away by her inner tirade, she willed the remainder back into the depths of her being. Then, smiling at him once more, she held his hand and raised it, this time rubbing her thumb over his palm.

“Well, take this from someone who danced since she was three and was a professional dancer for over thirteen years.” She paused for a moment longer, until Fiero’s gaze was locked on hers. “You’re better than some of my dance partners, and I’m talking of people who danced for a living. And that’s a fact as far as I’m concerned.” She paused again, this time to make sure her sentences sank in. “But even if it wasn’t,  there are only two rules that one needs to follow when dancing.”

Fiero’s lips parted slightly, in a clear relay of his amazement. 

“Really?” he whispered.

“Well, not if you’re doing it professionally,” Gracia admitted. “Then the audience will expect nothing but the best, and in a competition in particular, the judges tend to have a mile-long list of standards, and failing to meet even half of them will rob you of any chance.” She released his hand, then rested her own on his cheek. “But when you’re dancing for fun, there are only two things that need to be done. To dance from the heart, and to choose a partner you like dancing with and who likes dancing with you.”

His smile returned at her words. Warmth again enveloped her hand as he put it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he finished, his moustache tickling her skin. 

“As long as I’m dancing with you, none of those things will ever come into question.”

“Likewise,” she replied as Fiero straightened himself, their gazes meeting again.

And that was all either needed to say on the matter, their eyes telling each other everything else they needed to know as the breeze flowed around them, a wave again trickling over their feet and then pulling back.

Then, slowly, like a spark spreading across kindling, sunlight spread across the whole landscape, a warmth seeping into their surroundings, the breeze settling down even further until it merely ghosted over them, like the settings in the kind of fairy tale moments common in the ballets Gracia had performed in.

She knew this one was entirely natural and just a lucky coincidence, but she was more than happy to go with it. 

"Dance with me?" she requested, squeezing Fiero’s hand.

He squeezed hers in return, his eyes twinkling. 

"Of course, mi alma."

Her chest fluttering, Gracia slowly withdrew her hand from his’, then raised it until it was before the knot in her wrap.

“Let’s get ready then,” she said.

With those words, she channelled magic into the garment around her shoulders, her signature purplish-pink tone surging around it. As fluidly as a liquid, the wrap untied itself loose and then slid through the air until it hovered before her, folding itself into a neat rectangle. Once it finished, Fiero raised his own hand, sending magic forth as the glow around the bundle shifted from purplish-pink to a different violet shade. Retracting her own magic, Gracia raised her tamborita and aimed it at the wrap, landing a firm, but subdued smack on the drum. A purplish-pink glow bloomed around it, and the next instant, the folded cloth shimmered out of view with a hushed poof, teleported into what she knew was its proper place in its drawer.

That part of the task done, Gracia again channeled magic into her tamborita, purplish-pink sparks surging around its handle and drum with a faint hiss. Lowering the hand he’d been holding up, Fiero raised his tamborita to hers, violet sparks erupting from it. Then, as they put their tamboritas’ drums together, the sparks fused into bigger, brighter bolts of their shades blended together, a loud crackle lashing forth as their magic joined, finishing the protective spell that would safeguard their tamboritas. 

After holding the drum wands in place for a few seconds, Fiero and Gracia released them and, with a sweeping motion of their arms as coordinated as a dance step, sent them floating about thirty feet away, where they sank vertically into the sand. The bolts around them faded, but the tamboritas remained together as if glued, standing under their own power like two swords stuck on the same stone.

Their preparations complete, Fiero put an arm across his chest and bowed, while she curtsied in her sundress as formally as she would in a ballgown. Their gazes locked again, both stepped towards each other, her left hand resting on his shoulder while his right one settled on her waist, their other hands interlacing together. A familiar thrill bursting through her as she felt Fiero’s hand pressing to her left, she went along with the movement of his spin, her hair fanning out as she circled her way around him. A faint splash reached her ears as she stopped, but she barely noticed it as he released her waist and raised their entwined hands above their heads. Following the cue, she twirled in her spot and then put her hand back to his shoulder while his’ settled on her waist again. Her smile growing even wider, she pressed slightly into Fiero’s shoulder to convey what she wanted him to do; he followed along and spun to the left once more with her in his arms, though this time she tightened the circle as she walked around him. In perfect tune with her movement, Fiero stepped back, the two of them falling into their rhythm of steps and twirls and circles, the warm sun shining down on them. 

Reminded of a similar setup in a ballet she had once performed in - and in a musical version of the same story that she had gone to on her fourth date with Fiero - Gracia started humming a familiar tune under her breath, setting their steps to it.  

Again, Fiero curled an eyebrow even as he settled into her cue.

“Aurora and Phillip’s Waltz?” he asked.

“Just something to set our dance to, mi amado,” she replied without slowing down. “I thought this fit us.”

And it did. In more ways than one. Between the costumes they - or at least she - had been wearing on the night they actually started their romantic relationship, the dreams they’d both had on the same night not long before that occasion, and the musical adaptation of The Tale of Sleeping Beauty they had watched on their fourth date, she thought that the song fit them. Not to mention she had always liked it since she was a child, even if Princess Aurora’s tale had never been her top favorite. 

For a moment, Fiero narrowed his eyes, his look out of focus as if he was thinking of something. Then, he pressed his lips together as if gathering himself, and sent a warm tingle flowing into the thrill shooting through her as he began singing. 

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

Not missing a beat, Gracia joined in.

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

He pulled her just a bit closer as both sang the next verses.

Yet I know it’s true That visions are seldom all they seem

Their voices soared as they moved into the chorus, the breeze briefly picking up again, but not slowing them down in the least as they swept across the beach.

But if I know you I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once The way you did once upon a dream

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 6: Healing and Regrouping

Death and War then sat around in silence for a time. War didn't notice at first, but soon heard Death snoring quietly. He decided he'd remain in the room for now, wanting to keep an eye on him. He observed the injuries on Death as they slowly began to heal up now that he was finally resting. Soon enough Puck came on by, and War instantly went on the defensive. Always being wary of the Satyr.

"Satyr, do not even try."

"I have no idea what you're on about Horseman, I'm here to help." Puck assured him.

Death meanwhile heard Puck's voice and groaned, "If I could move, you wouldn't want to stick around."

"Yeah well you really can't now can ya? Now let's see what damage I'm working with exactly."

Death tries to move but is unable to, he begs War, "GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

War however tries instead to keep him in place on the bed, "If you keep moving I'll let the Satyr do his work."

Death stiffened at that and immediately went still again. War then asked Puck, "State what you're trying to do Puck, and it better be good. Or else..."

"I would be offended, but you know my reputation." Puck states pulling out a bag.

"What's in it?"

"Medicine, to help with the pain. And also accelerate my work." Puck explained before pulling out a syringe.

Both Horsemen give him a concerned look but he says, "Don't worry, they're new."

He then comes up to Death who asks nervously, "What's in it?"

"Eh....milk of the poppy for one. And two several mystical herbs with regenerative abilities."

Death froze up again, "Wait a minute.....that's opium!"

"Morphine. But similar enough, it comes from the same plant." Puck corrected him.

"If you're lying to me, and I get high, I'm going to kill you."

"Oh you won't be high, but hopefully you won't get addicted to this crap." Puck explained.

Death sighed, "You better not put too much in the needle, and I also better not get addicted to it."

"Eh, don't worry Horseman. I know how the Nephilim are with these kinds of things."

Death then asked, "Wait a minute, Strife isn't your guinea pig is he?"

"Define guinea pig."

"YOU'VE BEEN DRUGGING MY BROTHER?!"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to give him anything dangerous that he can get addicted to." Puck assured him.

"THAT YOU KNOW OF!" Death protested.

"Yeah yeah hold still and I'll get this in ya."

Death in time felt the pain go away, but also a little nauseous as time went on.

War looked at him a bit concerned, "Should I worried?"

"Eh, not really. Just be aware of the splash zone."

"Wait what?"

Death meanwhile quickly shouted to War, "I feel like I'm gonna be.....hrrrrp....Get me a bucket!"

War then grabbed on quickly and helped Death to handle the puking before looking at Puck again, "Was that normal?!"

"Yes that indeed was normal. Nausea is a common symptom, it's to be expected."

Death managed the shout between hurls, "How am I......huagh......supposed to.....aaach....eat like this?"

"Uh ok then. I don't know. I've not exactly tested this on your kind to this extent before." Puck explains.

War started holding Death's hair back and comments, "You know if you trim your hair or tie it back you might find easier to..."

"SHUT THE HELL UP, you don't even practice what you preach!" Death shouted quickly before feeling another wave coming on.

"Hey bro how are ya do.....oh my....What did you give him Puck?" Strife questioned upon coming in.

"Ah just a simple bit of morphine."

"Just morphine?" Strife pressed.

"Yep, apparently your brother can't handle it." Puck stated sarcastically.

Meanwhile Merlin finally came in after taking a look at Morgen, and upon seeing Death got very concerned. He also looked Puck's way,

"Morphine?"

"Yes." Puck told him.

"Oi......I'll my magic." Merlin says.

It is a very difficult and long process. But eventually Death gets passed the nausea and Merlin is able to start healing him. He inquired of Death,

"Why do you let him give you meds?"

"Because he practically forced them down my throat." Death expressed annoyed.

From there Death explained to Merlin what all happened in the past two days. Merlin only sighed deeply at the end of it all. He then said to Death in regards to Morgen,

"Right now, she's acting like she's already dead. Just laying there saying nothing."

"Do you have any idea of how to help her?" Strife implored of Merlin.

Death meanwhile muttered under his breath, "I know all too well, how she feels right now.", he then offered, "Is there any way for me to help?"

"Not unless you can say something to her. Physically she's doing alright. Mentally however, I don't know."

Death shook his head slightly, "She probably feels broken, used, just something below what you thought you were."

War looked at him oddly, "You sound as though you had a similar experience."

Death grunted softly, "I don't want to talk about it, not with you."

"Why not brother? You spoken of many gruesome things with me?"

"This was.....far from gruesome. Far more....horrific." Death stated grabbing at his inner thigh.

"More pain?" Merlin inquired.

"No.....just an old wound. One that....never healed right."

"Ok then."

"When will be capable of moving?" Death inquired of Merlin.

"Well if Puck here uses his magic alongside me, it'll probably take a few hours. You were injured very badly, that Nerve Ender really messed your nervous system. Patience is key. I know it's not your strongest of virtues. But try to start practicing it now." Merlin informed him.

Death fell back against the pillow, worried for Morgen. He could only hope his words and experiences would be enough to help her. For now, he'd have to wait to use them. Meanwhile Morgen heard a rested Barrcus enter her room to try his luck.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop him. I couldn't see what was going on in there. Care to explain that to me?" Barrcus started as he began to gently stroke her head.

Morgen stirred a bit at his touch but didn't say anything. She only curled up and began sobbing again. Softly crying into the pillow she'd been holding close. Barrcus began to silently comfort her as best he could. Stroking her head and back, singing as best he could manage for her, and even suggesting that she should eat. Morgen's stomach growled when he mentioned food, only then did she speak. But her tone was reserved, distant, and barely heard. Her eyes were grey to represent the creeping depression she felt,

"I'll eat, but that's all."

This tone hurt Barrcus to hear, but he remained strong for her, "I'll go make you something. I know you used to love my cooking."

Morgen actually managed a small giggle at that, his dishes were truly experimental. As strange as they looked, they were always a delight. She actually told him before he walked away, "Uh something warm please....I'd like to feel...some semblance of warmth right now."

Barrcus only nodded and made a note to make it his best dish yet for her. He'd ask Mina to help him too, something he knew she'd agree to for Morgen's sake. Morgen meanwhile sat at the window as she waited for the meal. Looking out longingly for a freedom she felt powerless to gain or reach. She wasn't sure how long she'd been looking outside, but she soon felt a little fluffy thing rubbing her ankles gently. Looking down, Morgen saw Fuzzball being all sweet to her, wanting to cheer her up. She couldn't help but give a small smile to him.

"Awwwww, came to see me did you?"

Fuzzball made a sweet little chirp like sound and began loving on her some more. Morgen permitted it and even petted him. She actually started to feel somewhat happy with him around. Even hugging the rodent for his little efforts and letting him give her a little lick on her face.

"You truly are a sweetheart aren't you little one? I can see why Death has you around." Morgen muttered quietly whilst giving his belly some nice scritches.

As time went on, and Barrcus took his time, Morgen heard a light knock on her door, and a very familiar voice. Only this time, it held a gentle warmth that she currently lacked,

"Morning."

Morgen turned around and looked at him surprised, course her surprise became concern, "Morning, are you alright?"

Death looked at the various patches all over himself and explained, "Nothing the uh mad scientist can't patch up so to speak. You should've seen me earlier, laid out unable to move heheh."

"I can imagine it was truly painful for you."

"Yes it was painful, but to be completely honest that was far from the worst. Trying being stabbed in the chest. Not a pleasant feeling I assure you. But even that wasn't exactly the worst. From fights between me and Absalom, no. Not even that. Do you really want to, what it is, the worst one?"

"Only if you're comfortable Horseman. I won't force anything." Morgen explained scooting a tad bit closer to him. As if to get some of warmth he's currently giving off.

"In order for me to tell you, you must first see something. And understand it's significance to it." Death told her calmly before carefully removing his trousers from under his kilt. Having switched into his one of his lightest armor sets for now. Morgen kept calm but wondered why he'd remove his trousers for this.

Then he sat back down and questioned her, "What should parents do?"

"Any good parent should protect their children, raise and love them well, do everything they can for them, and overall just be good to them." Morgen replied.

"Funny on how our experiences had to be the exact opposite."

"Wait....you're saying our....don't tell me that you.....that you were...." Morgen began to say.

Death sighed, "Most of the four don't know, expect for Strife. Lilith...was my creator....but she...far from being my Mother. Mother to the Nephilim race she was, but....not mine. At least in my eyes."

With that Death moved his kilt aside, showing Morgen the wide and deep scar that lay across his inner left thigh.

"What....did she do to you?" Morgen asked nearly touching it but pulling her hand back at the last moment.

"Go ahead, touch it. I've grown used to it."

Morgen tenderly ran her hand along it and noticed him tense up slightly, "It doesn't hurt does it?"

"Every now and then. But you're hands aren't, painful in that area right now." Death assured her.

Morgen continued touching him for a time before asking, "What happened to you?"

Death sighed deeply and taking a deep breath began, "The years you spent with Uther, Lilith managed to compress into three days. I was ordered to go...visit her...alone, if I had known then I would've disobeyed orders. Broken rank almost. Funny isn't it? How a parent who is supposed to protect their children, can become the most vile, hated, most personal, demon and an enemy. The words I wish to say about her, I don't think have been invented. I don't remember....much....about those three days. I was either drugged, which I'm hoping or I was the one that repressed them. I do remember the pain, some of the experiences, how many time I begged or pleaded for it to end, to stop it. No respite came of them, only laughter. Only the maniacal...SADISTIC LAUGH ANSWERED. And that VOICE, IT MAKES SICK TO THIS DAY. Everything crawls, when I try to remember what she said. Every single time I'm forced to be in a meeting with her, turns my stomach. I WISH she would break the rules of the Council, just so I would have a REASON TO OBLITERATE HER, AND DRAG WHATEVER'S LEFT INTO OBLIVION. But I was able to find something afterwards, something that saved me. A crystal that my real Mother gave me. There's only one person I truly view as my Mother. When I came to her that night, when I finally was able to get away from Lilith, she didn't hesitate. She brought me back into her home, gave me fresh clothes, made sure I could feel safe, did so much for me. Even took a slap from Lilith herself just to keep her out of her home, away from me. All to do what Lilith FAILED to do for me. Ale treated me as a Mother should treat her son, with love, kindness,...understanding, and unconditional support. Since the day I was 'born', she's the first thing I saw. The first person I saw. And no matter what she's been there, and will be there until the very end. Those very same things I will never say for Lilith, under any circumstances. You have someone similar to that, and he's currently cooking you breakfast. Go to him, you don't need to tell me about what happened, but you need to tell him about everything. As I told my Mother."

Morgen, who had been listening intently, hugged him, "Thank you for sharing with me. And I'm truly sorry for what you endured all those years ago. Thank you so much, I needed to hear this from someone, to know I wasn't so alone."

"So, are you going to tell them? Cause you're going to need to. Also, you're never truly alone. But nor are we truly together in some cases. It's just of a matter of figuring out things."

"A sad but true statement. But thank you nonetheless. Perhaps we could talk another time, I rather enjoyed this?" Morgen inquired gently, her eyes now a beautiful shade of amber.

"My doors are always open, to those who ask good questions. Not to those IDIOTS I've had to deal with recently. Give Barrcus my regards as well and ask about recipe. It smelled rather delicious." Death told her.

"I'll bare this mind, and of course I'll ask about the recipe. Good day for now." Morgen expressed with a sweet smile before hurrying off.

Barrcus was warmed to see Morgen managing to finally smile. Though he could she was dreading something. As she sat at the table with Mina gently rubbing her hand, Barrcus posed to her as he began plating the food,

"How are you doing?"

"Better now. After you left Fuzzball came by and helped better my mood a slight bit. Death however, he understood. Although I'm sure his own pain was worse than my own, I'm glad he felt he could share it. It gave me the reassurance I needed right now." Morgen informed him.

"I'm glad that he was able to assist you in what you were going."

"He told me I should tell you what happened. That it should help with my recovery." Morgen explained simply.

"Do you wish to tell me? Or is it too painful right now? You don't have to tell me everything, just take your time." Barrcus assured her as he placed the food on the table at last.

As Morgen ate up, albiet slowly at first, she began recounting what happened the night before. She wouldn't speak on the other many years she'd suffered the same fate, as she wasn't comfortable bringing them up. Only mentioning that night, Uther's twisted mentality, his strange change in mannerisms, the guilt tripping. All of it, she laid bare for Mina and Barrcus. Mina embraced her gently and rubbed her back as she spoke, and eyed Barrcus to make sure he kept his anger down. At least for right now. Barrcus in turn tried his damnest not to lose it to his rage. Swallowing it hard as he focused as best he could on Morgen. Comforting her alongside Mina in the only ways he felt he could. Mina kept urging him to speak up once Morgen finished, and to hug her as she was doing. Barrcus tried to think of something to tell her, either assurance or comfort, but did at least hug her. His other four arms trying to get to Morgen to make the hug even better for her. Finally he thought of something,

"I failed to protect you. I failed to keep my promise to your Mother. I failed you."

"You didn't fail at anything. My fear just kept me silent." Morgen insisted.

"You're all I have left of Igraine, why couldn't I....see. Why couldn't I see it so I could prevent it?"

"Uther, he placed an enchantment on the room. One that blocked you out. Everytime you sent spiders to my room it killed them. I fear it would've harmed you as it did them."

"He shall die," Barrcus explained grasping her hand, "He will suffer a fate fitting for a monster like him. He will know suffering."

Morgen let out a quiet chuckle before it turned into quiet crying. Mina and Barrcus hugged her tighter at this, causing Morgen to say, "At least.....I'm lucky enough...to have you in my life."

"And we'll always be there for ye lass. No matter what. We'll do everything we can for ye." Mina declared softly.

"Until the day I die, I will protect you. The way I should've, the way I must." Barrcus stated.

"Thank you...both of you." Morgen replied as she worked to calm herself down.

Mina gave her a handkerchief and began singing in Swedish. Granted she still had the Scottish accent on it so it did sound a tad off. But to Morgen, it was always soothing. Soon Morgen was finally calm enough to continue her meal. Mina watching her closely the whole time. As always she did finish it, "It was amazing Barrcus. Just as they always are."

"I try my best."

In the meantime Death had been thinking about his own experience. Normally he'd hate thinking about it, but after having told Morgen, after having shown her the scar, he felt different. He felt it was almost cathartic now, but at the same time it scared him a bit to wonder if the things in his nightmares were indeed memories he locked up. Finally he took out the crystal he'd shown Morgen and called up his Mother. Wanting any advice she could give him, and wanting to hear her talking to him in general. She always had a way of calming him down with her voice alone.

"Hey, Ceise? You there?"

He heard Ale give a small yawn on the other end before she told him, "Yes Atan I'm here. Is everything ok?"

"Kind of uhm....just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing?"

"Oh I'm doing just fine as always....,"Ale told him sweetly before bumping into a wall, "...Ouch! Oh."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, just ran into the wall again ehehe. Anyway, are you sure you're ok? I know that tone, and you only use it when something's troubling you." Ale inquired.

"I just...just uh dealing with this mission I'm on right now. It's....unique, to say the least."

"Well tell me about it then. What's on your mind Atan?" Ale bade of him gently.

Death proceeded to explain the recent events. Why he was there, and what had happened, everything. Even how it all went to shit. The last thing he mentioned, was how he'd told Morgen what happened to him.

"So....why did you tell her Atan? Were you pressured?" Ale asked a little concerned.

"Because she has something in common with me with those regards. She was in the black pit I'd been in, I......wanted to help her...get out....to deal with it....understand it....whatever could help. When I told her, discussed it with her, it helped. Her and me. But it also opened up a prospect that scares me." Death explained to her.

"Is it the nightmares Atan? Are they worrying you again?" Ale gently queried.

"It's what's implied by them that worries me. What if they're, old memories, crawling their way back? What if....I wasn't drugged like I'm now hoping I was?"

Ale heard him breathing heavily and fast. It was clear to her just how scared he was, "Atan, listen to me. Calm down. Take deep breaths. You'll be alright, she can't hurt you."

"I know, I know. I know...just things are getting a bit too personal, that's all." Death explained wanting so much to believe her.

"You can hide many things from me Death, but one thing I'll always know, is when you're scared. Your breathing picks up speed and becomes heavy. Do I need to come down there? Would it help?"

"I.....Uh....I'm I.....uhm...uuuuhhh..." Death attempted to say before ultimately going quiet.

"That settles it, I'll make my way there. Just stay calm ok? Maybe go see your family until I'm there?"

"Uhhhh heh uhm right....they're technically in the next room. Also Merlin's here so, be worried. So goes for Puck, oi."

"Don't worry Atan, I'll be careful. Just go see your siblings and try to keep calm. Or at least see Strife, as I know you told him." Ale sternly but gently ordered him.

"Yes Ceise I will. Be careful, also I could just ask Merlin to open a rift for you."

"Don't worry Atan, I know the roads well. Besides I can also use my crystal to track you. I promise I'll be there before too long." Ale promised him sweetly.

"Alright if you're sure, be mindful of bandits, and swindlers!"

With that he hung up and went to go see his siblings as requested. Ale in the meantime began to prepare for her trip. Death ran into his siblings in the hallway and as he did, caught sent of something delicious.

Strife immediately spoke up, "Death are you experimenting again?"

"I've been in there most of this time. That's Barrcus' cooking."

War then added, "Either way it's food."

"Mmhmm, may as well get to it." Fury suggested as she walked on past her brothers.

They followed her ultimately to go see what was cooking. Back at Uther's castle, he had other plans for this afternoon. He went down into the catacombs, where in a lone chamber, stood a caged wendigo. One he'd bought from some pretty sketchy hunters that had searched 'Vinderland' as they put it. Uther meanwhile knew it as North America these days.

"Rise my pet, I have need of your service again."

It made a hissing like gurgle before coming towards the corner Uther was closest to, it's voice sounding like someone suffering from hypothermia, "What do you require of me your grace?"

Uther pulled up a portrait of Morgen and torn cloth from Death's kilt, "Find her, bring her back unharmed. This one on the other hand....," He began whilst giving the cloth to the wendigo for Death's scent, "..kill him. And make sure he's never found."

The wendigo laughed maniacally, "And if anyone gets in the way?"

"Do what you want, I don't care. Just bring HER alive." Uther demanded.

"As you wish, but do you have anything for the cold?" The wendigo inquired.

Uther told him, "I would build you a fire if you so wish. So long as you do your job. You won't have to worry about being too cold."

"Done."

Uther moved away and snapped his fingers. The chains in response snapped away and left the Disorientation Collar around it's neck. One similar to Death's own, but Uther could control it's affects. This the wendigo knew, as it sprinted off to find it's target. It moved quickly, even whilst in it's more humanoid form.

Ale at this time was halfway down the road and comes up to a fork in the road. She took the direction the crystal suggested to her. She heard steps ahead of her and stopped briefly, her ears keenly picked up the sounds of someone shivering badly. As the being, whoever they were got closer, Ale cocked her head in concern. Finally she called out ahead of her, "Hello there? Are you alright? I can't see you but I can hear you."

The vines on her wrists and ankles however tried to tell her something was off about this being. That it looked wrong in some form. Ale however listened keenly as the being sniffed the air around her, "J-j-just c-cold....and a b-b-bit h-hungry......"

"Oh well I may have something warm on me, a scarf or hood perhaps. I also have some food with me in another crystal if you'll permit me a moment." Ale explained as the being got closer and sniffed at her again.

"T-t-thank you."

Ale heard him sniff at her once more and finally inquired a bit naively, "Are you ill perhaps? Maybe a cold got you."

"Y-yes....it seems....u-unfortunately..."

"Well uhm hold on...I have some warm soup on me somewhere. And would you prefer a scarf or hood?" Ale questioned the being.

"B-both....please."

"Very well then.", Ale said before finding the soup and summoning it, "It's not too warm, so hopefully the bowl doesn't burn you. You can test with a finger to be sure though."

The being took the bowl and begins to slurp it down. A bit too quickly in fact, like a starving man. Ale noted this with concern and finally found the scarf and hood.

"Perhaps you are more in need than I realized. Were you starving? How long have you been traveling for? Poor thing."

As Ale wrapped the hood over it, having a bit of trouble at first with the antlers but managing all the same, he responded, "T-thank you...."

Ale then wrapped the scarf around him and her hand barely touched his skin, she didn't notice much beyond how frostbitten it felt to her. "Oh my, you really are freezing. Where did you come from? How did you get so frostbitten like this?"

"North....far north."

"Well hopefully this warm air helps along with the scarf and hood." Ale expressed with sympathy as the vines continued to try and warn her.

"So....what brings you to this side of things?"

"I'm visiting my Atan, although I'm not too familiar with the area out here. So I'm using a crystal to guide me there." Ale informed him.

"Crystal?"

"Mmhmm, I use a special magic in it to track his location." Ale stated as he sniffed around again. She thought nothing of it this time, wanting to polite.

"May I....take a look at it?"

"Oh of course, just be careful." Ale explained before handing it over. She noticed his hands were partially clawed, freezing to the touch, and highly bony. She did her best to hide her concern at this revelation.

"So....what is your Atan? Whatever that word means..."

"Uhm....my son actually. Perhaps I can call a carriage for you? There may be someone in the nearby town that can help you. Plenty of good folks at the tavern there will help anyone in need. I'd stay and chat longer...but I must be going. My Atan is expecting to arrive soon." Ale told him trying to hide her growing nervousness.

"W-who's your son?" The creature pressed, his heartrate elevating as she spoke.

"A good man, one I raised well. He's strong too." Ale explained vaguely.

"Strong? Plenty of meat on the bones."

Ale noticed he isn't shivering now by the sound his voice and goes to sprint off but is grabbed by both arms. She herself is now left shivering as this thing finally lets down the rouse, mocking her, "Thank you for your help. I'll make sure your death is quick, a mercy I was not given."

"W-w-what?!" Ale shouted as her teeth chattered.

"Heheh, I must be in a strange land. If you couldn't figure out what I was....what I AM."

Ale began squirming as best she could trying to call Death on her crystal. But the Wendigo notices easily what she's doing, "Maybe we should call him?", then upon taking it, "Just to say hi."

He hissed as the crystal vibrated for a moment before Death answered, expecting Ale on the other end, "Yes Ceise?"

"Does this sound familiar?", He hissed before slicing one of Ale's cheeks. She yelped in pain naturally and Death froze before shouting in rage, "WHO THE HELL IS THIS?!"

"Someone who was sent to kill you. I want to know first your name." It asked with a slightly distorted tone.

"I am of the Four Horsemen, and my name is DEATH!" Death shouted trying to intimidate him.

It only laughed however, "Funny...very funny...I used to have a name like that. Now...all I have is the hunger...and the cold. Hopefully your Ceise can help....alleviate that problem."

Death's own heartrate picked up, "You touch a single hair on her head I will kill you!"

"I doubt that Horseman, many hunters tried. All of them became prey."

"I'm not ordinary man." Death retorted.

Giggling the creature responded, "You'll have until dusk, before my appetite takes over. Good thing she gave me some soup a while back, otherwise your amount of time would be shorter. And keep your 'group' away. I would love to feast on them but I'm on a schedule. If you don't come alone, I'll guess I'll have to have a feast."

The signal cuts out once the crystal is shattered in the Wendigo's hand. From there it asks of Ale, "So, do you have anymore of that delicious soup?"

Ale nods and says whilst shivering badly now, "H-h-h-here......in t-this...c-c-crystal....."

"Thank you, dear." He expresses before scarfing down all the food he can from it. Ale in the meantime huddles up to a tree in a mix of fear and extreme cold. Course the winds around them both are starting to pick up, although it doesn't seem to be doing so outside of their radius.

The Wendigo laughed at noticing the wind speed up, "Familiar, but insignificant."

Ale goes quiet and closes her eyes. It looks as though she's napping, but she's actually in deep concentration. Waiting for the right moment to shoot out a burst of power. Allowing the speeding winds to swarm around them all the more in a very gradual and deliberate way. One that catches Death's attention when he sees it after preparing to leave and find Ale.

Using Despair, it doesn't take Death long at all to reach the sight. But he finds the wind having picked up speed massively. The Wendigo is actually starting to get a bit concerned but doesn't say anything of it. Not when Death shows up at least.

Clapping and laughing maniacally he begins, "You actually did come alone. I actually was hoping for a feast. I guess a small meal would do."

Death realized all too well what he was facing now, "Wendigo..."

Laughing once more like a hyena mixed with a dog that mated with a smoker he told Death, "I've never even tried Nephilim flesh before. Hmmm is it sweet or bitter, gamy or fatty? You have a lot meat on the bone, I'll bet the marrow tastes so sweet! Better than the rabbit, I would make a stew out of her."

"How about we come to a proposition? I know what your kind are, and what they love to do, to hunt. How about we have a wager, you catch me, you eat me? But if I catch you, you burn."

"No deal....I'M TOO STARVING TO CARE! A TRAP!" The Wendigo explained before showing it's true self to Death.

"Fine by me, saves me the time from killing you. I'll make you pay for wounding her."

The Wendigo can only get just under the tree canopy in height before the collar shocks him, preventing him from reaching past it. Death notices this and realizes what is happening,

"Uther."

It growls in pure anger and upset before charging at Death. Death dodges out of the way of it's lunge as best he can, but still takes a slight scratch for his efforts. But it's nothing his magic can't heal.

"A simple lunge? I know you can do better than that."

The Wendigo hissed at him, "Words that you shall swallow!" It then began swiping at him and is barely able to snag Death at all. He even rips trees out and throws them at the Horseman, only for Death to cut each one in half with Harvester. Upon cutting a final, truly thick tree in half, Death was met with a giant smack upside the head with a trunk. After being sent flying, and bouncing off the ground a few times he lay still for a moment before stirring to get up. Hearing the Wendigo screeching in triumph like some demented eagle. He throws this tree at him as well, and Death uses his Reaper Form to take care of it, but hopped out of it shortly after. As he can only use it in short bursts without Council leeway, best to save that energy up. He stood back up slowly and cracked his neck and back,

"Ok, my turn."

Death then began to run at this thing, stopping just in front of it before using a teleport slash on him. The Wendigo retreats for a moment, being quite surprised at Death for him having done that. Meanwhile down the road, a wagon had been hindered by one of the tree halves that got chopped by Death. A golden brown haired young woman was currently trying to chop it with an axe, whilst her Dwarven adoptive Father shook his head.

"C, we could just turn around. We don't have to clear the road. Just leave it for the officials."

"I know that Gregory, but I haven't found any good contracts lately. This is a good way to keep my strength up for em don't ya think?" C replied with a smile.

"Lass ye've gotta know when to quit too. Sometimes quitting really ain't as bad as most folks tell ya. I knew when to quit military life, and look at me. I'm still kicking and got plenty of my strength left. Seriously just look at me girl."

"Yeah you and all your gray hairs can certainly attest huh? Hahahahaha." C remarked jokingly.

"Eh be lucky yer my daughter, otherwise I'd be leaving ya to this whilst going my own way. Seriously lass, this'll only delay us by several hours. Whilst the path I'm thinking of will only take at least two."

"Come on Gregory, I know what I'm doing. I'll have this done in no time at all." C urged him whilst looking at him. Behind her however a tree trunk had come flying their direction.

"LOOK OUT!" Gregory shouted before tackling to the ground.

"Ah what the he...?!" C shouted back before the tree landed just behind their wagon, barely missing the back.

"I told ya! Now what the hell was that?" Gregory quizzed before getting up to look over the tree in front them. From there he saw Death as he was fighting the Wendigo. "Oh we are NOT getting involved."

"Why what's wrong?" C asked getting up to look herself. Seeing it for herself really peeked her interest. Normally she would agree to leave a Horseman to his job, but then she spotted Ale hugging a nearby tree as she was trying to concentrate. "Shouldn't we get her out of there though? She might be hurt bad."

"Fuck!" Gregory cursed before grabbing his crossbow, and switching it over to a rapid fire setting with white phosphorus attachments.

"What are you doing?" C inquired curiously.

"Get ready to fucking deal with that THING!" Gregory declared before trying to sneak over to Ale.

"Wait Gregory what are you....argh?!" C called to him before hurrying to get a weapon herself, this one being something she picked up as a reward for a job once. A sword that when its pommel was twisted, grew a firey plume over the blade. On the inside of the pommel was an obsidian stone. C normally preferred using water stones, but for this task she figured she may as well use this stone. She twisted the pommel and with the firey plume also came a change to the blade. Turning it from simple steel to obsidian, amplifying the capabilities of the blade. Course the sound of the blade igniting did unfortunately catch the attention of both Death and the Wendigo.

"Ehehehehe....oops..."

"I said alone!" The Wendigo shouted.

"They aren't with me!" Death retorted.

"Then you won't mind me feasting."

C gulped and prepared herself as the thing turned its body towards her, "Oh shit." Then is knocks Death aside before charging at her. C uses the tree trunk to hop into the air and try to slam her sword down on it. Course she's swatted aside like a fly, but does at least burn the Wendigo since it smacked her sword.

"Ahhhhh....warm...." The thing taunted to her.

"Still fire isn't it?!" C hollered.

Death however yelled to her, "Stay out of this child!".

He then began to use his scythes to attack this beast. Using a magma enchantment on Harvester, and forming one scythe into a hook to latch onto the thing's left shoulder. His other scythe stabbing the beast in-between the shoulder blades. Crying out the beast grabbed Death by his dangling leg and flung him to the side. Both halves of Harvester lodged into his body, he still continued to converge on his current aggressor. Death is ready to go tooth and nail, only to be surprised by a sudden explosion hitting the beast's chest head on.

Looking behind him he saw an elderly Dwarf with a crossbow, "Come at me ye fucker!"

The Wendigo made a truly nasty look towards Gregory and made a full charge at the Dwarf. Death took the opportunity to grab the hook again and began making more stabs into the beast's back. It cried out again and since Death was staying in the middle of his back, he started trying to shake him off. As that proves fruitless, it decides to jump up then slam onto its own back. Death still clung on, but barely. Then finds himself being shaken around again since the Wendigo decided he was weak enough to try that again. He begins slipping off the hook as the Wendigo begins grabbing after him frantically. Gregory meanwhile loads another bolt and hollers out, "Just let go so I take a chunks off this thing!"

Death then found it himself to grab Harvester again and once he'd tightened his grip on the hook again he forced the beast to rear up on it's hind legs, baring it's chest towards Gregory. "FIRE!!!"

Gregory did so, albiet reluctantly as he didn't know how Death could handle a white phosphorus explosion. But he fired multiple bolts into the beastie with rapid succession. Causing it to roll over and let Death take a few hits himself. Gregory called out to him, "Horseman! Just let go ye stubborn git!"

"Just keep firing! I'll live!" Death shouts back, making a mental note what the hell was in those bolts later.

The Wendigo has now had enough and begins bolting away. Death eventually realizes what may happen as the thing seems to be going towards Uther's castle. He finally just lets go, landing on the ground whilst bouncing off of it a bit and rolling before calling Harvester back to him. Causing the twisted creature one final piece of pain. He lay there on the ground after that as the adrenaline began wearing off, leaving him with the pain of the white phosphorus burns.

As Gregory came up Death inquired behind pained growls and gritted teeth, "WHAT WERE THOSE BOLTS?"

"Explosive white phosphorus, hence why I said let go. Ye stubborn git."

Death then looked back towards the young woman nearby with the flaming sword as she shut the spell off with a simple twist, "You were doing good child, proved to be a....excellent distraction."

"Yeah ehehehe.....I meant to do that. Yeah...." C replied rubbing her neck.

Death sighed, "You may want to get a better enchantment. Fire's good, but a super heating enchantment is better."

"Noted, thanks. Though maybe you wanna check on this lady over here?" C inquired pointing towards Ale.

[hoodie-lover]

My Multiverse Part 59

Five years later…

Dream walked down the Doodlesphere with Blue and Error by his side. Nightmare said he would meet them at the AU. 

“You sure this is going to be easy?” Blue asked, his voice glitching a bit more than it normally does, a sign of worry they soon learned. 

“Nope! But this job has never been easy!” Dream said and Error smiled as they approached the AU and entered. 

“Wow. They really did a number on this place.” Blue said when he saw the AU. 

The AU was dark and musty. Dread and fear was built into the AU. The snow falling down in front of the ruins door, colored a faded pink, was icey and sent shivers down their spines. 

“You know what we have to do. Help the innocent, remove corruption, and offer them a place in the multiverse along with therapy.” Dream said and the two nodded as they explored the AU. 

The forest was devoid of traps, not a good sign. Snowdin was empty, another bad sign. 

“So, what are we looking for?” Error asked, running his hands over the snow.

“A person. From what I could hear, within the snickers and laughter of the creators, this AU’s Flowey rules the AU with an iron fist, or vine.” Dream said and the two shuddered as they were picked up and pinned. 

“Let us go!” Dream screamed and a deep and sickening laugh caught Dream off guard. 

“Alright.” Nightmare said and he let them down against the snow and laughed as he saw Dream’s angry face. 

“Not funny!” Dream said, shaking from either the cold or shock, probably both. 

“Sure.” Nightmare said, rolling his eye with a smug grin on his face. 

“Um, guys? We need to get moving!” Error said as he held up a pile of snow, which was mostly, dust. 

“Yeah. We sure do. What did you find out Nightmare?” Blue asked as the team sped off. 

“Flowey rules the world and people are hunted for fun, though this world’s Sans and Papyrus are his special toys that he tortures.” Nightmare said, and he pulled out some black cloaks for everyone to wear, and they donned them quickly.

“Blue, can you and Error go search for people hiding?” Dream asked and the two nodded as they sped off. 

“So, what do you expect from this AU?” He asked, and Nightmare shuddered. 

“Probably something along the lines of those angst AUs.” Nightmare said as they got off the ground and began to move among the stalgatities hanging from the ceiling, besto to avoid Flowey’s roots. 

When the two got to New Home, it was a jungle. Plants and debris were everywhere, and every single piece of flora was an enemy. It wasn’t the most dangerous mission they had been on, but it was far from the easiest. 

Dream grabbed one of Nightmare’s tentacles and was launched across the city, landing on the roof of the throne room. His brother followed and they slowly lowered themselves into the throne room. It was pretty much a green bowl made of vines with a dirt circle in the center. 

“Alright. We need to get to the best place to work as a dungeon.” Dream said. “No one’s here.” He said as Dream was lifted up. 

“I’ll go over to the lab. We passed it on our way here, you stay here and watch out for the weed.” Dream said and Nightmare gave him a suspicious look. 

“If I find the Sans and Papyrus they will panic, I can calm them down and I can take care of myself. But if you patrol and find Flowey, fight him. Keep him busy.” Dream whispered and Dream went off.

When he got to the lab, it took some maneuvering to avoid stepping on the vines, but he was able to get down into the lab and quickly explored the barren and dusty lab. 

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Dream whispered, when he heard no response he continued down the hallway and saw two makeshift cells. With the Sans and Papyrus of the universe inside of them. 

“Who are you?” Sans asked, and upon closer inspection he was the only one without his jaw broken. 

“A friend. I’m here to rescue you.” Dream said and Sans’ eyes lit up with joy.  

“Thank you!” Sans exclaimed as he gripped the plant-like bars of his cell.

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.” Dream said and he used an arrow to slice the bars and set the two free. 

They stumbled and tripped, and overall had a hard time walking. Dream was patient, from their physical condition, broken bones, bruises, and dents in the skull, and clear scars where possibly deadly fractures were, Dream was understanding. 

“Well, well, well, it seems I have multiple intruders on my hand!” Flowey said as he popped from the ground in front of them. 

“Let us leave Flowey.” Dream said, summoning his bow.

“Nope!” Flowey said giggling as the Sans and Papyrus cowered behind Dream. 

“Please let me have my toys back, you don’t end up like your other intruder do you?” He asked, giving an innocent frown as he cackled. 

“Let us leave.” Dream said, unphased by Flowey's threat.

“Aww~. Did you not hear me?” Flowey said and Dream laughed as his eyes gleamed with confidence. 

“Look behind you.” Dream said, and Nightmare smiled, followed by Error and Blue. 

“Oh sh-” Flowey said and was dead before the swear left his mouth. 

Dream led the Sans and Papyrus to a portal set up to the omega timeline, Core Frisk was berated for not interfering but they barely managed to get out of it by stating they knew what would happen before it did. So they saw no need to interfere, though it was not with a light heart they stayed out of the situation. 

“The people there will explain everything to you.” Dream said as he led the people out of there and Error was ready to destroy the AU. Taking the already isolated Frisk soul with him. It was a miracle they were able to give the souls physical bodies and give them a proper home in the omega timeline, or their own if it was inhabitable. 

Classic had woken up and yawned, he hadn’t been woken up. It was weird, Papyrus usually woke him up. Though Classic suddenly remembered the last run, a genocide run. He got up and ran to Papyrus’ room, and there was his brother, sitting on his bed and curled up. 

“Heya bro. You ok?” Sans asked as he sat next him, only to be caught in a large hug. 

“I don’t think I will ever get used to getting killed.” Papyrus said and Sans sighed as he hugged him back. 

“I haven’t either.” Sans said and he called Undyne.

“Hey Sans. You ok?” Undyne said and Sans gave a stumbling ‘yeah.’

“Paps is having a hard time. How are you doing?” Sans asked and Papyrus began to listen in as he put Undyne on speaker. “You’re on speaker and Paps is here.” Sans said.

“I-I still have no idea how you deal with that Sans.” Undyne said, her voice lacked the passion and life she was known for. 

“I gave up trying a long time ago. But you guys, have people to confide in. Don’t give up trying. Please, don’t do what I did.” Sans said, and Undyne gave a resounding ‘Hell yeah!’ and Papyrus promised he would never give up, that he’d always keep trying. It made Sans feel happy, and he felt safe. Truly safe, safe like he had never been before. 

Later that day, he and everyone, even Toriel and Flowey, came together and talked about what happened, a group therapy session of sorts. 

“So, Asgore, Flowey, how far did they get, I know they killed me, but what about you?” Sans asked, and they sighed. 

“They spared me.” Flowey said, Asgore hanging his head. 

“I was killed by Flowey.” he said, glaring at the flower. 

“Either that or they get unleashed upon humanity, your choice.” Flowey shrugged, “And I doubt you want to share a headspare with that murderous brat.” He said, sneering and shuddering at the memory.

 “So, Chara isn’t a problem, yet. Or maybe they like teasing us, and will one day just pop up with the demon.” Sans said, but he quickly regretted his words when he realized who he was talking about and in front of who. 

“I’m sorry. But, you have to understand, they’re, not going to...” Sans tried to say but Toriel stopped him. 

“It’s ok Sans.” Toriel said, and Asgore kept silent. 

They talked about the timeline and what they did, and Sans explained all the routes once again, though he left a few details out. Sans didn’t want to give anyone the crisis of morality he had a long time ago. 

In the creator realm, everyone was bustling around and talking. The place was alive with papers scattered on the floor, pencils everywhere, and creators eager to show off what they made. 

“This place is busier than ever. What happened?” Maxie asked when she sat next to Zack and Beatrice at the newly built food court. 

“Someone made an occult, HorrorTale, Sansisk AU and from what I’ve seen, you should check it out.” Zack said, sipping a coffee. 

“Sounds interesting. Is the Sans sympathetic or a maniac?” Beatrice asked, she was eating a donut based on Muffet’s spider pastries. 

“A puppy people like to kick when it’s already down.” Zack said and Maxie gasped. 

“Well I hope the Star Sanses get to save him. You know I don’t like too much torture, when you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.” Maxie said as she looked at the rack of candy next to her. 

“Me too. But you know the rules: Based on the contents and complexity of the universe, a time limit is placed on how long the Star Sanses will wait until they are allowed to rescue the inhabitants of the AU. It was the first agreement we ever made and it works well so far. And we can always go back to what it once was, just no more updates.” Zack said, and Jana came walking over. 

“Hey. So, Underoccult sounding good? You guys really should check it out.” Jana said and Zack sighed. 

“Sure. I was just recommending it.” Zack said, taking a long sip of coffee as he glared at her. 

“Oh please. I’m enjoying this just as much as you are. Honestly, you need to lighten up.” Beatrice said, resting her elbows on the back of Zack’s chair. 

“Yeah.” Zack, groaning when Jack came over. 

“Can we stop talking about Underoccult? I found an angsty AU with Papyrus and Frisk as the main couple.” Jack said, and Maxie was intrigued. 

“Rare pair. I like it.” Maxie said, smiling as she grabbed a bag of gummy bears and paid for them and dove into the delicious candy goodness. 

“Anyway, how is your AU going?” Maxie asked, looking at Beatrice and Jana. 

“Decent. The time limit is almost up, but I’m excited to see how they interact with the rest of the multiverse.” Jana said and Beatrice nodded as she stuffed her mouth with sugary donut goodness. 

Dream was calling the Star Sanses to a meeting to tell them about how his mission went, and to learn how their own missions went. When everyone came to the Doodlesphere, the atmosphere was still lighter and brighter than when Ink had run this place, even five years later. 

“So, I assume we had success across the board?” Dream said and was met with several resounding cheers. “So, how did it go?” Dream asked and they went in order, some people and the Dark Sanses compared it to a sharing circle thing from kindergarten but it was fun and everyone liked it.  

“There was a guy who thought he could chain me up, he’s dust now.” Red said, and Black laughed.

“I encountered a whore, and she tried to grab my spine,” Black gestured to his exposed lower spine, “and it turned out she was the target. It was fun to watch her blood spill from her chest wound.” He said and only Red laughed, everyone was quiet and looking at Dream. 

“Thanks. Anyone else have any ideas what the creators might be up to in terms of what you’ve encountered during your missions?” Dream said, looking around. 

“There’s been more, Sans and Frisk shipping, along with more angst.” Geno said, and murmurs of agreement filled the room. 

Dream managed to get notes on everyone’s missions and the trends they’re seeing. It would be useful information for Nightmare, but for now, he could relax. The meeting then became a meme fest and when Blue dropped in a box of beer, Dream decided to leave, he had the worst tolerance and everyone knew it, it was only a matter of time before they poured it down his throat. 

Dream opened a portal and dropped off his notes on Nightmare’s desk, his brother drowning in papers. 

“You need help?” Dream asked and Nightmare glared at him, as if he had just insulted him in every way imaginable.  

“Fine, fine. You struggle with your Everest of papers while I hide from the rest of the Star Sanses.” Dream said but was caught with a tentacle. 

“Why?” Nightmare asked, grinning evilly. 

“Blue brought beer.” Dream said and Nightmare laughed. 

“You are going there and I will request a video of your stupid drunk ass.” Nightmare said and threw Dream in a portal.

“Traitor!” Drea screamed and everyone looked at Nightmare, ready for a fight. 

“Get me a video of him drunk. I need one. Sibling code.” Nightmare said as the portal closed, and Blue grabbed Dream’s shoulders and chuckled as his left eye glowed brightly. 

“B-Blue, we’re friends right? You wouldn’t hand over my dignity to-” Dream said and had a bottle of beer slammed against his mouth. 

  It was only there for a few moments and when Blue ripped it free, Dream fell onto his back and was motionless for a few moments. 

“Just wait a while. He’ll be running around like a toddler on a pound of pixie sticks in a while.” Blue said and he kissed Red on the cheek. 

“Devilish cutie.” Red whispered and returned the kiss. 

“Be quiet. I don’t want them to know!” Blue said as he was picked up and taken across the room as Black put some loud music on. 

Blue met Red’s arrogant gaze with his own as Red danced with Blue on the meeting table, taking a swig of the booze Blue brought while he was at it. 

“May I have this dance?” Alt asked Sci and the flustered skeleton hesitantly agreed and was thrown on the table as Alt led the dance and never slowed down. 

“So, how’s everything on your side?” Sci asked as everyone began to drink and dance to the music. 

“Decent. No one’s going on rampages anymore. And Error’s been calmer than he usually is.” Alt said as he dipped Sci and kissed him. 

“How come you can dip me when you’re two feet shorter than me?” Sci asked and Alt had a simple reply. 

“Creativity.” Alt said and Sci laughed. 

The Dark Sanses were hanging out like usual, playing video games and cooking when Nightmare came down. 

“So, how’s Dream?” Killer asked and Nightmare chuckled. 

“Blue brought booze.” Nightmare said and every howled. 

“Well, it seems we’ve got some entertainment tonight!” Dust said as he beat Fresh in their video game. 

“Yeah. What do you want for lunch?” Horror asked and everyone gave their answers. Meat for himself, something exotic for Killer, Dust wanted something mild, Fresh wanted a mix of flavors, Error was content with chocolate, Cross wanted chocolate as well, and Nightmare would scavenge off whatever was prepared. 

“Alright!” Horror said as he rummaged through the fridge. 

Error was standing outside the castle and looking out at the AU. He took in a deep breath and looked at his family, they were laughing, playing, and were able to seek professional help for what they went through, along with Dream who was a big help, and the world was at peace. 

He was free to do as he pleased, within reason, and could interact with people aside from his family without being beaten or ran away from in terror. It was a good feeling, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hey Error.” Nightmare said as he stood next to him. 

“Hey Dad.” Error said and Nightmare wrapped his arm around Error. 

“Any plans for the day?” Nightmare asked and Error shrugged. 

“Nope. You?” Error asked and Nightmare gave him a confident smirk. 

“I have some ideas, but there was something I did find.” Nightmare said as he handed Error a piece of paper. 

“What’s this?” Error asked as he opened it up and gasped. 

“You, how?” He asked when he saw what it was. A crappy investigation of who Error could have been, done by Ink. 

“I found it when he ransacked his cottage soon after his defeat. I’ve been looking into it for so long, and I finally managed to get a lead. Something we can follow.” Nightmare said, smiling. 

“You’ve narrowed it down to an alternate timeline?” Error said, about to cry. 

“Yeah. Ink suspected Geno, but he couldn’t find anything after that and gave up. But when he looked at Blue’s code, only the non-glitched parts pointed to himself. So what do you say, wanna solve this mystery once and for all?” nightmare said and Error hugged him as he screamed at the top of his hypothetical lungs. 

“YES!” Error said as Horror called them in for lunch, it wasn’t done, but the chocolate was ready and Cross was getting antsy. 

“We’ll be there soon.” Nightmare said and Error cried tears of joy. 

“Wanna tell them?” Error asked and Nightmare shrugged. 

“If you want to.” Nightmare said as the two walked back into the castle. 

Characters belong to their respective owners

First

[chrisodonline]

In which I unwrap a little from “Mother” and also tie in past seasons’ of G Callen character development AND character insight shown and implied...

This episode was all about parallels -- and they were well done. Parallels in TV episodes are nothing new, and you see them as handy ways to tie storylines and characters together, either from within the show itself or with references and homages to past literature and media.  They are a great tool for new writers, and for good reason. People expect themes to episodic and serial presentations, and they help keep formulae from being just straight formulae. ECO and Babar definitely leaned into them, but with a lot of thought. 

I do think the parallels between Akhos and G were supposed to make us think as well as make G think.  Akhos definitely thought they were two sides to the same coin. Hetty had concerns they were, in a way, as well. It was setup to put Hetty in continued crisis thought and self-reflection that has started recently -- but you saw seeds in past seasons.  It’s still very in character.  The beauty of the ep was that it didn’t actually lean all the way into the parallel. It was more explicit in noting the parallel of Akhos and G, but mainly because the dialogue was coming through to display the aforementioned mentalities of our Baddie of the Week and Mother Hetty. (Mother was also the very specific nickname/codename given to the CIA during the Cold War, and I just kept thinking about that. I’m sure that was no coincidence.)  Sam also had a little dialogue that floated this -- in this ep and in recent ones.  

Anyway, what the episode demonstrated was a reinforcement that G and Akhos? Actually two very different people. And it’s not that they ended up on two different sides of a forked path after Hetty’s modus operandi of intervening with lost souls. It wasn’t even anything about what Hetty planted. G was never going to be Akhos, Hetty or no Hetty.

Before I get into the ending parts with G and his fantastic dialogue, we’ll look at the speakers of lines that contributed to the “Akhos = what G could have ended up as.” Akhos himself belabors the point. Akhos is extremely misguided, and approaches things from an embittered POV. He has also lied to someone who is loyal enough to him to go to the HQ of a government agency.  There’s an entitlement aspect to him, and also someone who refuses to accept any of his actions or mistakes as completely of his own doing. It was all “nurture” to him. He wasn’t a full-grown adult or anything at some point capable of making his own decisions.  If anything, saying he was ruined and fallen shows that he has a pretty darn clear understanding of morality.  You can’t fault a person for not being mentally healthy or having emotional issues. But he knows right from wrong. He did wrong. He’s not the voice of reason in all this. He has a skewed view of things, and we’re not supposed to walk away thinking, “Man, Akhos was a deep guy. He’s super smart. He had it all figured out.” He tried to kill Hetty, then G, and tried to blow up Deeks and Kensi. He’s not...a good guy. He’s not on the side of right nor is he right about things. He ends up killed by Hetty.  If this were a novel, well, a traditional novel -- let’s say -- Akhos’ ending up killed in a very bloody fashion and coming out the loser -- big time -- with his men taken out and plots being foiled all over the place pretty much enforces his worldview and ways of life are not ones the author subscribes to nor are they trying to get the audience/reader to subscribe to them. 

Hetty is another person who muses this, and she does it not from her usual confident stance.  She isn’t Hetty the Purveyor of Wisdom.  She is Hetty the Mother, specifically Hetty the Mother, who is going through common paternal guilt mode. She’s questioning her decisions, how it’s affected her children, etc. She isn’t Hetty the Orator. She is Hetty the Doubter. Sage!Hetty is a voice we’re supposed to listen to.  Confused, guilt-ridden, confidence-bruised is not the Hetty we’re supposed to listen to. It’s her at her most human, not her most all-knowing. 

Sam? Sam is your favorite aunt. He meddles at times, but he always cares. He might get a little personal, but you know you can go to him with whatever horrible thing you think you did, and he’d give you a look before helping you out and guiding you back and giving you the best hug you’ve ever gotten. He’s also a worrier. Sam’s just worried about his friend, and this is probably his gateway into deeper discussions because he knows G isn’t up for the really, really deep ones.

So, we’ve established that these aren’t necessarily the voices we need to put full faith in -- for the ep that is.  (Hetty and Sam know what’s what very often.)

The episode is smart enough to let G speak for himself. He doesn’t do it often, and that’s been a big point in some of his plots. He gets deep here, and he drops his guard. It’s Hetty, and he’s often done it with her. However, he also knows she needs to hear what he has to say. It’s all true, so he’s not lying out of kindness. He’s being honest. He doesn’t do this because Hetty showed him a magic, fun path. He may have ended up on this super specific path because of Hetty, but he was always going to help people. He doesn’t do this because he feels like he has no choice. He does it because he sees the good it does. It allows people to live their lives. That’s all he wants. He wants people to live outside of violence. He has every reason to doubt the good in people. He’s seen the worst in this job, and he saw it before the job. He had abandonment issues not knowing who he was and if he was ever wanted. He had to live with that on top of not only encountering horrible, cruel people, but being left in their charge. Time and time again. His childhood was full of horrible things and horrible people. But he also saw good, innocent people -- his fellow foster kids. 

Sam, Kensi, and Deeks usually mention at least one personal relationship when talking about doing the job, though they also love helping others and explicitly note. In the 11th season, with G’s acknowledging he is no longer a lone wolf, that he does have people close to him, and seeming to be okay with, he still talks with distance about the people he saves. He’s tried the “normal” things beyond the found family: girlfriends, a niece and nephews, steady dwelling places, staying in a job for a while, etc.  He still sees himself as separate from the “normal life.” From the world he saves. The world is full of other people living their lives, not him. He’s not bitter about that. In fact, he kind of misses the aspects to being fully solo. (See? Already very different Akhos. Not bitter. Not feeling entitled to something better or throwing blame around.)

G Callen has had emotional growth in being able to trust more people and let them in. He’s allowed himself to make connections.  Morally, though? He’s still the same person. Because he was never evil. And he never would be. Don’t get me wrong. He’s no saint, and he’d be the first to tell you that. He lives in the gray, though. Always has, and always will. He might have ended up in a different system if he stayed in juvie or kept going back. Even if he never went and ended up in organized crime or on the “wrong” side of the law because that was sort of his only options, or seemed like it, he’d be a total Arkady. (Maybe more...understated, shall we say?) He has the natural skill set and aptitude for organized crime, but you know he’d be helping people one way or another. Probably even be a CI.  He’s clever, and always has been. But he’s never been evil. He might go dark at times, but all these characters have. 

Again, Akhos feels like so many things forged him.  He takes no responsibility for the forging he did of himself. Trauma and horrible experiences do not forge us. That’s a misconception. It permanently affects you, in ways you sometimes don’t understand. It can affect your physical health. It can dig into your DNA. It’s not what makes you you, though. Survival is not a creator of bravery, it is a product of it. (I do want to note here, that the lack of survival does not mean there is an absence of bravery. There is no victim-blaming here.) 

G Callen was impacted by cruelty and tragedy. He got scars from them in various ways. He may have not wanted to get close to people or let them get close to him as a result. However, that doesn’t mean he didn’t care about them. G Callen didn’t go into this life because Hetty told him to or offered it to him, and made it sound like a trip to Disney World every day or like constant 80s training montages. The G Callen who went from agency to agency because, even though he hated the structure, he wanted to do the job. (He also says he left the CIA because the thought they were too shady.) He could have been a private investigator. Or just left and did something less kickass-y.  Something without any rules or bosses.  But he stayed. He didn’t stay because of Hetty. He’s super loyal to Hetty, but he’s also super stubborn.

G Callen sat there tonight and told Hetty that she didn’t fail him, that she didn’t fail any of them, that he does this because he wants people to be able to live their lives and that the world is worth saving. That’s why G Callen has always done this. That’s why when he sees kids in trouble, he doesn’t do what Akhos does and go “Oh, woe is me! You think you have it bad! Look at what life and the people in it have done to me! Aren’t you lucky to still have a parent who might be upset you die in a bomb blast!” G Callen has the opposite of the crab mentality.  He wants to make sure everyone else makes it out of the bucket, usually feeling like he has to stay in it himself -- no matter how often Sam tells him he can come out of the bucket. 

G Callen will always live in the gray, but never the dark.  He knows he’s not meant for a life in the “light.” He’s okay with that. He doesn’t double-down and go and live in the dark, taking down everyone with him. He wants to save people from the dark, no matter what it means for him. 

G Callen is still very often that hurt, little lonely boy who just wanted a family and to be loved and know who he was. To be safe. He was well into adulthood before he knew any of that, really.  He even says as much to Nadir back in “The Seventh Child.”  You find people who make you feel safe. He has talked about the team being family, and he said it tonight. He’s gotten all of that. That stuff is newer; however, he has always wanted other people to be safe, too. His hands are far from clean, and he can be extremely lethal and detached due to his training -- as seen tonight, as well.  But he’ll always help people. It’s who he is. It’s why he does what he does. In the “Matroyshka” episode (another nice maternal name, there), he reacts very strongly to his father calling him a good man. He doesn’t feel like he is, but he wants to be. 

G Callen lived through horror after horror, and he was still never going to approach Akhos-level evil. That’s not how it works. I realize the episode itself seemed to be pushing that more than it didn’t, but it was just having a discourse and exploring things through dialogue and plot -- as good TV does. G Callen would’ve said in his moment of deep honesty with Hetty if she did anything that might have led him to be Akhos.  I know there’s an argument to be made about whether or not Callen is self-aware, but what this ep and the ones before it have shown us is that he so very much is self-aware.  He’s more self-aware than he gets credit for because people mistake behavior changes as a guaranteed result of self-awareness.  (Behavior changes are soooo ingrained. They are nearly impossible to change permanently. It is very serious work and doesn’t signal a lack of attempts to make those changes.)

Anyway, that went even longer than I intended. I could go on and on. Clearly. I just wanted to put it out there that G Callen was never at real risk for becoming an Akhos, and the episode didn’t end with that notion, either. At least not to me.  

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

Everything Awesome about COIE Hour 2

STILL GEEKING OUT

We start off...by pouring one out for Oliver. RIP, Ollie, you will be dropped in a murky pit of standing water at the bottom of an abandoned mine missed!

And of course Kara wants to save EVERYONE and refuses to give up, even in the face of death and cosmic destruction.

PARAGON OF HOOOOOOOPPPPEEEEEE

“I promised my crew no more crossovers.” Oh, Sara. Sweet, naive Sara.

I also love that Lyla’s like, ‘I don’t need your crew, just one part of your ship.’

“You had me at beer.”

Speaking of Mick, we then get the BEST SCENE, which is Baby Jon interrupting the Monitor’s Weighty Exposition, and the heroes just. Passing him down the line.

That’s exactly the kind of characterization I crave, re: Lois and Clark. They’re both just like. Completely fine with 1.) Having their baby here for this Big Important Super Hero Meeting on board a space-and-time ship, 2.) are equally fine with their kid potentially interrupting the guy and 3.) they’re chill with having Heatwave babysit.

So the Paragon thing, as far as I can figure, is unique to the CW crossover, and I Dig It.

(Do I Dig It because Kara is the Paragon of Hope? Absolutely. Would I like the Paragon idea if she wasn’t? Hard to say!)

(I am Biased, I admit it.)

Anyways I just gotta type it out again: KARA ZOR-EL, PARAGON OF HOPE.

It’s what she deserves.

Ears perked up at ‘Tome of the Guardians’ b/c I wondered if that was a reference to the Guardians of the Universe, AKA, the Oans, AKA, the creators of the Green Lantern Corps.

(They were kind of a huge part of Crisis but the Arrowverse is lacking in the way of Lanterns so. WHO KNOWS.)

And then Kate’s like, ‘Who wants to meet Batman?” while the Batman theme plays and. My comic book nerd heart is just. Filled with joy.

Kara at the computer console, searching for Argo and Earth-38...

I...sad.

And then Lex comes and Kara’s ready to SMITE HIM WHERE HE STANDS but Monitor’s like, ‘No.’

(Jon Cryer continues to be an excellent Lex, he’s the kind of villain ya just LOVE to hate.)

Then a lil chat between Kate and Kara

“That’s dark even for Gotham.”

The beginnings of the Lazarus Pit field trip plot! I like that it’s centered on Sara and Mia.

(We’ll come back to that later.)

A very sweet Barry/Iris moment, nice, nice.

And then we're on Earth-99! Kara’s ‘Afraid of yard work’ line = A+

The whole front door scene is great too.

“Can I just...?” *effortlessly destroys door*

Over on Earth-75, Lois and Clark hunt for the PARAGON OF TRUTH only to discover that Lex is on the loose, murderin’ Kryptonians. 

And then we get the DEATH OF SUPERMAN REFERENCE which is EXCELLENT, in terms of nerdy easter eggs, but devastating, because a CLARK HAS DIED.

And then I *think* we’re back with Old Man Bruce? Maybe? I don’t have it written down in my notes but regardless, I’ll take a moment to express my appreciation for the fact that in CW-Land, it’s an old version of Batman that goes off the murderous deep end, not Clark! There are so many Dark Superman stories, but CW Crisis is like, ‘NOPE. Look at all these good Clarks!’

I mean, did I kind of want Kevin Conroy to be a heroic Batman? Sure. But we got Three Good Supes so I’m okay with it.

Also I enjoyed his Old Man Bruce growl-y voice, so that was good.

And then, Smallville Earth! 167, I think?

(I’ve given up trying to keep track of the designations)

I have to admit, Smallville was always a little too...’CW teen drama’ for me, so I don’t have the emotional attachment that many other fans do. I can’t really weigh in on it, from that perspective.

(I’m way more familiar with the Season 11 comic.)

But, the cameo does seem to be in line with what I’ve read about Tom Welling, who kind of always seems like he wants to be done with the show. 

So in that sense, I’m glad he’s sort of had his ending. Like Harrison Ford in Force Awakens. Minus the patricide! 

And, this is perhaps weirdly specific, but I like that this Clark has daughters!

Also enjoyed Smallville Clark punching Lex in the face.

Oh, wait, can’t forget Lois’ line! “[Or he’s] the buff guy on paper towel rolls.”

Mick soothing baby Jon with a self-published romance novel is delightful.

OOOOOH and then at the Daily Planet! The Lois and Clark theme! (Not the TV show, Lois & Clark theme, but the John Williams, Lois and Clark theme.) T’was lovely!

Back to Gotham, and Kara Danvers! In the Library! With the Glasses!

It was a grim reveal. It was great.

I like that Kara’s right, in that Bruce is not the Paragon. I worried that her mistrust would be unfounded, or that it would be like, another Lex situation, where the dude is clearly bad news, but folks shrug it off for the sake of the multiverse.

Nope. Kate is like, 1000% ready to side with Kara and let the dude fry.

(That’s dark, even for Gotham.)

(Just gonna. Try and slip that into casual conversation.)

(Also HEY Burton Batmobile under a tarp in the batcave!)

Then there’s the whole SUPES vs SUPES battle and it’s fine? It’s fine. But I like the character stuff a whole lot more.

FOR EXAMPLE: Lois’s little, “Come on Honey, you got this.” And taking Lex out with...a paperweight? I couldn’t really see. Either way, GOOD!

Also Lois and Iris getting the book and Lois saving Donner!Clark with the POWER OF LOVE!

SUPERMAN RETURNS HEAT VISION! WOO!

(So the Blue is unique to Earth-38 HMMMMMMMM. Cool.)

Alright circling back to the Lazarus Pit Field Trip!

Sara and Mia finally coming around, getting along. GOOD, YES, GOOD.

“I miss Ollie too.”

Sara giving Jonah Hex his scar.

Also they just...have Oliver’s dead body? ...O...kay....

And then they dunk him, and he’s under there for a while, and ALL SEEMS LOST until he LEAPS FORTH FROM THE WATERY DEPTHS.

Oliver, you poetic, noble land-merman.

So now they’ll have to FIGHT FOR OLIVER’S SOUL. 

Which I’m already WAY more invested in, than any fight for Lena’s

I’m sorry I’m not usually so MEAN to fictional characters but I’m so done with her and her NONSENSE.

Back on the Waverider! Ray and Clark!

Also, Lex in a cage! And he does a curtsy! It’s great.

Kara: Ray, you’re looking jacked. Clark: HE IS YOUR COUSIN.

“Huh.”

Kate was a Paragon all along! I appreciate that the Monitor is like, ‘THE MULTIVERSE IS DYING...but you needed to learn that the courage was inside you, here, have a side quest.’

Then we end on another Hope Speech from Kara but like, tailored to Kate.

“Do these things even work on you?” “Not really.”

KARA’S GONNA SAVE EARTH-38, EVEN IF IT KILLS HER...or drives her insane a la Superboy Prime but whatever, it’s fine, this is fine, it’s fine.

And then HARBINGER AND THE ANTI-MONITOR!!!!!!! Get ready for some MIND-CONTROL and BETRAYAL, Y’ALL.

In conclusion! A quieter, more ‘feelings’ heavy episode, but I liked it! I like how they integrated the cameos, and that the ‘three supers’ left in the crossover are Clark, Clark, and Kara.

And that’s it for Hour 2! I had a belated thought on Hour 1, but it’s SG specific...as in, specific to the season-long arc, not really the crossover:

I had mentioned, in my prior post, that I couldn’t stand Lena and her pettiness. (Still can’t.) BUT, I realized that it was good that Lena was a huge jerk about the whole thing, because she absolutely saved billions of lives with the portal, BUT. She behaved so badly that there’s NO WAY they can use it as a redemptive action on her part.

And also, she got the portal working thanks to Alex, so. There’s that too. 

[restlessresolve]

A Silent Place to Fall

Sakura hated the quiet. It wasn’t so much the lack of sound that created the problem. It was the lacking; the sense of loss that allowed the echoes inside of her room to breathe. That, of course, was always a bad thing. To breathe would mean they had the space to speak, to take possession of the silence and fill it with an almost animalistic scream. No, that wasn’t right. It was she who did the screaming. The echoes only had to whisper. The volume of their words was in their weight.

Failure.

Disappointment.

Useless.

It didn’t matter what Sakura did, who she saved, or how far she would go; it never felt far enough. Any praise or feelings of accomplishment were always crushed under the memories of the jeers. It didn’t matter that those jeers came from the mouths of children whose faces she could no longer remember, or how those failings came from a time of pubescent naiveté; they held power in their absolution.

It would never matter.

It was for this reason that Sakura kept busy. Why, despite those telling her to rest, she would sign herself up for every mission available to her, only to spend her days off on shift at the hospital. Never sitting still, never allowing herself a moment, it was always one task after the other. In keeping constantly occupied, she had no time to let her mind wander. It was the way Sakura liked it.

For the most part, it worked.

Today was not one of those days.

The hour was late. Sakura didn’t need to look at the clock on her desk to tell her it was in the early hours of the morning; she could feel it in the heaviness of her eyes and the stiffness residing in her bones. Despite all her tossing and turning, despite the candles she lit with soothing smells, or the countless deep breaths she’d taken to lull herself into the void of slumber, her mind refused to settle. Instead, it squirmed with a needling insistence, mocking her. Every mistake she had ever made throughout her life was on an unbreakable feedback loop, highlighting her every flaw. Every doubt she had had about herself jumped about, demanding attention. It was relentless. Suffocating.

Snapping her eyes open, Sakura threw back her covers and marched over to her dresser. Grabbing a spare workout uniform, she proceeded to get dressed. If she wasn’t going to get any sleep, she might as well use her restless energy to get some training in. She made a point of not looking at the time as she left her room, locking the front door of her apartment behind her before starting to jog down the road. Deliberately not thinking about where she was going, Sakura just ran, choosing to focus solely on the crisp sting of the fall air on her face as she increased her speed until her lungs burned. She counted her paces, falling into an easy rhythm as her feet hammered into the ground, the vibrations from each step reverberating inside of her. As Sakura ran, driving the tension of her body out through her legs, she started to organize her day.

Sparing practice.

Breakfast.

Research in the library.

Meeting with Hokage.

More Research.

Early dinner with friends

Night shift at Hospital.  

The voices, however, still refused to cease their whispers. Sakura forced herself to move faster, desperate for air. She steered herself out of the main village square. Even in the dead of night, there were still the few stragglers that kept the village from seeming completely deserted; lights here and there in windows that flickered with moving shadows, or the faint hum of unsteady laughter returning home after a night of drinking. Sakura didn’t want to hear any of it. She didn’t need to see the reminder of all the people she continued to let down.  Breaking away from the confines of the town, Sakura halted at the edge of the meadow. The surrounding forest made for a deep, black pitch of unspoken promises. Gasping for each breath, Sakura gazed into the void. She wondered if this was how Sasuke felt, all those years ago. Was it this same desperate need to become something real that drove him to leave? Sometimes the cloak of night was an all too tempting siren; all sweet words and hollow promises.

How easy it could be, it would murmur, no one would even notice.

Would anyone notice?

She took a step forward, her right hand fisted around the top of her shirt. She could feel the pounding of her own heart against her chest. With a shuddering sigh, she dropped to the ground; falling back until she was laid flat on her back, her arms and legs spread out as if ready to embrace the sky. The stars twinkled above her in the millions. Blinking as if, they too could see the world from the void that was Sakura’s own eyes.  

“Rough night?” Sakura startled, her eyes flickered to the source of the sound.  Standing above her, hands stuffed languidly inside his pockets, Shikamaru raised his eyebrow. Relaxing once more, Sakura turned back to the sky.

“I thought you were away on a mission.”

“Just got back.” As if to prove his point, Shikamaru shrugged off his vest, casting it to the group. It was only then Sakura noticed the tears and stains of dried blood.  Something inside of her clenched.

“You’re hurt.”

“Not particularly.”

“Show me.” There was something to be said in the way Shikamaru didn’t even attempt to argue, choosing instead to merely pull off his netted shirt as he took a seat beside his fellow shinobi. Sitting up, Sakura ran her hands along Shikamaru’s back, noting the small lacerations of a kunai’s edge. They weren’t deep. Evidence of treatment could be seen in the ointment that stuck, now dry, along the openings of each wound. Placing her hand over the largest, Sakura started to infuse her chakra into the cut, sealing it shut so that it didn’t even leave a scar.

“You should see a doctor if you’re injured.” Sakura chided, moving onto the next one.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“There is no way you could have known I would be.”

“Your lab was my next stop.”

“I have a house.” Sakura retorted, falling back onto the ground, finished.

Shikamaru snorted, rolling his shoulders to test the tightness of his skin. It came as no surprise when there wasn’t a single jolt of pain.

“I am aware.” His head twisted so that he could look at her. “Are you?”

Sakura’s eye twitched. She wanted to snap back, but who was she kidding? The apartment was little more than an overpriced storage unit she occasionally slept in so people wouldn’t ask questions. Biting her lip, Sakura looked away.

“It was too quiet.” She finally whispered.

Surprised by her candor, Shikamaru turned around, noting the bags that hung under her eyes. How long had it been since she slept last? Sliding down to lay beside her, Shikamaru gazed up at the stars, his hands forming a makeshift pillow under his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, just as softly.

“Not really.” Sakura sighed. “How was your mission?”

Shikamaru gave the barest of shrugs, acknowledging her desire for a change in subject.

“Wet.”

“Did you really expect the Hidden Mist to be dry?”

“It should have been called the Hidden Storm with the way it poured during the mission. The entire thing was a complete drag.”

“Are you surprised?” Sakura chucked, “What else is the sky suppose to do other than weep when it has to gaze at you? You incite such disappointment from the world, all it can do its cry in pity upon your barren soul.”

“Let it wail,” Shikamaru replied, deadpanned. “I have grown strong on the tears of the gods.”

“Careful, they might hear you and seek retribution.”

“I’m sure they have better things to do than smite my sacrilege.”

“If I was a God, I’d smite you.” Sakura declared, smirking.

Shikamaru rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand, elbow bent.

“If you were a God,” Shikamaru drawled, his eyes twinkling, “Who would you be?”

Following suit, Sakura turned to face Shikamaru, mirroring his stance. She pondered his question.

“Izanami.” She decided at last. “As a medical ninja, I could totally pass as both the creator of life and gatekeeper to death. Plus,” She added, as an afterthought, “It would just be my luck to marry a man, die from baring his children, only for him to abandon me in the underworld because I was no longer pretty after being dead for so long.”

Shikamaru laughed, his body actually shaking from the force of it. Taken aback, Sakura couldn’t help but chuckle along with him.

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” Shikamaru managed to say after calming down, the mirth still heavy in his voice.

“Are you implying I’m not the kind of girl who would willingly destroy thousands of living souls for each day my husband refused to come back to me?” Sakura asked, incredulous.

“More like, you’re not the kind of girl to put up with a man who would make you resort to such drastic measures.” Shikamaru explained. Still chuckling.

“Oh yeah,” Sakura glared, trying to ignore the image of a certain absent Shinobi with black hair and cold eyes. “Than tell me, which god would you be?”

“Fūjin,” Shikamaru nodded sagely.  

“The God of Wind?” Sakura laughed, although she was hardly surprised. With the amount of time Shikamaru spent gazing up at the sky with his head in the clouds, it made sense.

“I could see that.” She agreed. Leaning forward, Sakura reached out her other arm and ran her hand along Shikamaru’s face, up towards his hairline. “I’m sure you’d make for a dashing red-headed, demon looking lizard man.”  

Shikamaru just rolled his eyes, not even bothering to swat her hand away.

“If it means I get left alone, what do I care if people see me as a monster?”

“Wouldn’t it though?” Sakura asked, softly, the shimmer in her eyes dimming to a flat sheen. “Bother you, I mean.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, Shikamaru’s face became a little more serious. Reaching up, he took Sakura’s hand away from his face, lacing their fingers together in front of them.

“The ones that truly mattered would know the difference.” Sakura stared at their clasped hands, unseeing. Brushing his thumb along Sakura’s knuckles, Shikamaru could not help but notice how much they felt like ice. Looking more closely at her attire, he frowned. It was no wonder, considering she only wore a pair of short shorts and a loose shirt.  

“You’re cold. You should have put on more clothing.”

“Says the guy without a shirt on.” Sakura retorted. “I didn’t plan on laying around in the grass when I left the house.” She added, sheepishly, pulling her hand out of his to run it along the goosebumps forming on her arm. Shikamaru frowned further. Moving closer, he looped his arm around Sakura’s waist, tugging her against his chest before lying back down.

“There,” He smirked, his eyes glancing down at her with a gentle warmth that left Sakura feeling warmer than any fire. “Problem solved.”

Sakura hesitated, wanting to pull back. Only, she really didn’t. Shikamaru, despite being shirtless and on the ground, was incredibly warm; his heartbeat at a steady, almost lullaby-like rhythm beneath her fingertips, drawing her in. Accepting the comfort, Sakura relaxed, fitting her head into the crook between Shikamaru’s shoulder and neck.

“I could have just put on your vest.” Shikamaru only hummed in reply, re-lacing his fingers with hers atop his chest as the other hand went to play with the soft locks of her hair. Sakura clenched her fingers tightly around his, biting her lip. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had been held in this way. If, at all, even. Without even intending to, she leaned further into his touch, curling her body around his. Shikamaru responded by drawing her tighter against himself. They laid in silence after that. Sakura couldn’t bring herself to ruin it with words, just wanting to enjoy the stolen moment for what it was; a moment. As Shikamaru continued to gently graze his nails along her scalp, content to let the silence rest, Sakura reflected on their relationship.

It had only been a year since Sasuke left the village on his quest for redemption, but in that time, much had changed. Sakura had taken over as the head researcher at the hospital, under the Hokage’s tutelage, earning herself the freedom and authority to manage much of the newly developing medical experiments. Sometime during that time, Shikamaru and her had grown closer. It had started with just a few glances and brief conversations here and there in the halls or around town. Shikamaru had always been a friend in Sakura’s eyes, but never someone she would consider herself close to. However, as Sakura saw more and more of him, she realized how well they got along. Eventually, they started going on missions together, Shikamaru’s tendency for delicate strategies pairing well with Sakura’s unique set of skills with medicine and chakra control. Together, they had successfully completed more than a fair share of S Ranked assassination and recognisance missions. He had taught her to play shoji, and although she still had yet to win a single match against him, she found herself always looking forward to their games. Shikamaru had become a friend Sakura felt comfortable relying on, not just with the small things, but the things she couldn’t even open up to with Naruto or Ino. Maybe that was why she would occasionally find herself in a situation like this…

“Have you ever-“ Sakura bit her lip, instantly regretting having spoken up. “Don’t you think it would get lonely?”

Shikamaru glanced down at her, the blank look on his face making Sakura even more uncomfortable.

“I mean,” Sakura tried to hide her blush, attempting to elaborate. “Looking like a lizard demon wouldn’t make for the easiest first impressions.” When she saw a glimmer of understanding in Shikamaru’s eyes, the feeling of relief was palpable.

“Possibly…” he murmured, not breaking eye contact with Sakura for a second. “But there’s a big difference between being alone and feeling lonely. I’d rather have no one than be surrounded by a group of people, who, at the end of the day, made me feel like I wasn’t even there.”

“Do you ever feel like that now?” Shikamaru’s eyes softened and something inside Sakura squirmed.

“Sorry,” She tried to back peddle, her hand instinctively moving to let go of Shikamaru’s. “Just igno-“

“Sometimes.”

Sakura froze, eyes widening at Shikamaru’s confession.

“It’s hard finding your place when the world seems determined to leave you behind. Huh, almost feels like a joke coming from someone like me.” Shifting her weight, Sakura found herself moving even closer to Shikamaru. It didn’t matter that he spoke with mirth; Sakura could hear it, that faint tint of bitterness that slithered just beneath the surface. It wasn’t right; hearing something like that from someone like him. It was like looking into a mirror.

“It’s not a joke.” Sakura whispered, squeezing his hand. Squeezing back, Shikamaru smiled, the action more sincere than the first.

“Bad Poetry than.”

“You don’t write poetry.”

“Probably for the best.”

They didn’t say anything after that for a long while. Instead, they watched the stars. When the first rays of light started to break through the horizon, however, and the first strokes of color found their way past the darkness, Sakura broke the silence between them for the second time that night.  

“Hey, Shikamaru?”

“Yah?” Lifting her head from off his chest, she smiled down at her friend. He looked back at her, eyes so dark they could almost be mistaken for black. Bringing up her spare hand, the one not currently wrapped around his, she flicked his nose.

“Any piece of this world that thinks it can do better without you in it, doesn’t deserve your devotion. This village would be lost without you.”

Shikamaru blinked up at her, his face unreadable. For a second, Sakura felt herself waver. Had she said something wrong? But before she could apologize, Shikamaru spoke.

“It’s not often I find myself second-guessing myself. But when I do, I come here.”

Sakura furrowed her brow, not understanding what he meant.

“To cloud watch?”

“To you.” Sakura couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He couldn’t be serious? Could he? Speechless, Sakura remained frozen in place, unable to respond. Her mouth felt dry, her stomach twisting itself into a million knots. Chuckling to himself, Shikamaru let go of Sakura’s hand and began to sit up. Responding on reflex, Sakura immediately followed suit, giving him the space to stand. Shikamaru stood and rolled his shoulders, grunting in relief as the joints popped along his neck and back. He glanced down at Sakura while doing this, noting her still dazed expression and smiled sadly to himself.

“Common,” he called to her, collecting his shirt and vest from the ground and putting them back on. “Breakfast is on me.”

Snapping out of her trance, Sakura scrambled to her feet.

It wasn’t just the village that would be lost without Shikamaru, Sakura realized as she watched him saunter away, hands tucked into his pockets as he walked with his eyes to the sky.

Without Shikamaru, Sakura knew she would have been lost as well.

[jackdawyt]

DISCLAIMER: This is a theory, I could be totally wrong, and for the sake of all the scary Sollavelen fangirls out there, I hope I did alright detailing this intricate theory!

{Voice ringing with fullness from both worlds, guiding me to the shining places. He calls himself Pride. Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change. Wisdom knows enduring is pain. He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths}.

"Fen'Harel" "He Who Hunts Alone"

"The Dread Wolf" "Lord of Tricksters" "The Great Wolf" And "Chuckles"

Before each alias, he was known as Solas.

In ancient elvhen "Solas" means "Pride", or literally "to stand tall", it's a word often spoken in the Elvhish tongue.

In elven times, "Pride" was denoted as a figure within key Dalish-tales, like 'The Ascension of Ghilan'nain', as the Mother of the Halla proceeded to deplete her creations across the world, when she decided to destroy the giants within the deep depths of sea - "Pride stopped her hand" - sparing one of her oceanic creations for unknown purposes.

Within this tale, "Pride" is referred to as a name/figure, expressing that these actions were taken by a living body.

In modern-day Thedas, "Pride" often corresponds to a Pride Demon, the most powerful abomination among its ranks. A demon is formed when their initial purpose as a spirit is somehow perverted and twisted.

"When a spirit is forced to do something that greatly conflicts with its original nature."

Therefore, a Pride Demon's original purpose has been corrupted, once a spirit of Wisdom in the Fade, now a demon of Pride in Thedas.

"Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted into Pride and Desire."

According to the Chantry, spirits are the first children of the Maker, he turned away from his original creations because they lacked a soul; to emulate their creator.

Whatever the truth about the Maker is, spirits are told to be first beings in existence, they uphold plenty of relevance regarding the cultures of Thedas.

The Avvar tribes revere spirits as Gods, directly linking with them and seeking consul. The Dalish believe both demons and spirits are the same, both equally dangerous. Tevinter Imperium is known for binding spirits and using them as servants. Even Rivani hedge-witches allow spirits to posses them for the sake of their villages.  

The knowledge and existence of spirits is spread throughout Thedas, with each race and culture following many different beliefs regarding the ancient beings.

The Chantry's history extends to a time after the veil, not before, however throughout the ancient elvhen times, an advanced civilization existed before the veil's creation.

A group of powerful elvhen mages called the Evanuris ruled over the Age, Elgar'nan was the All-father and leader of these mages, he lead the pact with Mythal, the all-mother.

Just like the elvhen word "Solas" meaning "Pride", Elgar'nan has an elvhen translation:

"Elgar" means "Spirit"

"Nan" means "Revenge" or "Vengeance"

The elvish meaning of Elgar'nan is "Spirit" of "Revenge" or "Vengeance", by this definition, Elgar'nan is a spirit (or apropos a demon) of revenge, with Mythal, his counterpart acting as the opposite force (or spirit) of justice and love.

{"Mythal walked out of the sea of the Earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray."}

Perhaps each of the Evanuris mages follow this same origin, each fulfilling their own purpose, nuanced between a spirit and demon. For further context, the counterweight of Wisdom is Pride.

Seemingly Solas, one of the members of the Evanuris Pantheon, "was" a Wisdom spirit forced to enter Thedas with a body gifted by Mythal.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face", and "Bare-faced but free, frolicking, fighting, fierce. He wants to give Wisdom, not orders."

Solas, as a Wisdom spirit had no desire to enter this world with a body, (such limiting things), but for whatever reason 'she' asked him to come, she being Mythal, a woman whom Solas loves as queen and ruler of his people.

Perhaps Mythal knew she was in-danger with the Elven Pantheon, she asked for a trusted Wisdom spirit to join her in the flesh.

Once given a body by Mythal, Solas burned the vallaslin linked with Mythal off his face, leaving a scar, no longer baring the slave markings that once were marked by the previous occupant.

Solas's original purpose was to give Wisdom as a spirit, not to be given a body and become a lieutenant in Mythal's ranks, his purpose seemingly changed.

Solas's body was given by Mythal, potentially one of her servants offered it as a sacrifice for Solas to come, however, the ancient elves originally created their bodies from the "Earth."

"They made bodies from the earth. And the earth was afraid. It fought back. But they made it forget."

The elves mined the Titan's bodies for their blood, lyrium, which they used to create bodies for their spirits to occupy.

Lyrium is a most powerful substance throughout Thedas, it has many uses ranging from sustaining magical spells, charging dwarven runes, enhancing a person's talents, replenishing health, mana and stamina, it's even been infused onto a person's skin for combat purposes.

One can imagine the possibilities of a lyrium body and how someone could become most powerful.

The mining and extraction of lyrium among the elven people caused the Titan's to retaliate in war, shaking the very world until Mythal "struck them down."

("Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!")

The greed of the Evanuris's thirst for lyrium caused the ancient elves to somehow make the Titans forget, never waking their anger again, and forgetting there place.

("What the Evanuris in their greed could unleash would end us all. Let this place be forgotten. Let no one wake its anger. The People must rise before their false gods destroy them all.")

Mythal was killed by her own people, the Pantheon plotted against their own queen in lust for power and greed.

It was Solas's love for Mythal that he joined this world physically, he never possessed any desire to become flesh, Wisdom merely wanted to help his queen.

After Mythal was slain, Wisdom went to each side of the betrayers, he told them the other had forged a terrible weapon, a blade that would end the war. He told the Creators it was forged in the heavens, and the Forgotten Ones, that it was hidden in the abyss. And when the gods went seeking it, he sealed them both in their realms forever.

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap."

The Chantry teaches that the Maker created the Veil before He created men, this is false as it was Solas who "held back the sky" to banish the Evanuris.

The veil severed many ties the elven people had to the Fade, since their kingdom was founded on strong magics and the gifts of immortality, all irrelevant when the veil was forged.

Creating the veil was a sacrifice for Solas, destroying his own kingdom, yet knowing the people will be saved from the Evanuris in the process. Ultimately, he stumbled alone in this world, resting to see the future of the elven people.

Cole: Bright and brilliant, he wanders the ways, walking unwaking, searching for wisdom... Solas: I do not need you to do that, Cole. Cole: Your friend wanted you to be happy, even though she knew you wouldn't be. Solas: (Sighs.) Could you... if you would remember her, could you do it as I would? Cole: He comes to me as though the Fade were just another wooded path to walk without a care in search of wisdom. Cole: We share the ancient mysteries, the feelings lost, forgotten dreams, unseen for ages, now beheld in wonder. Cole: In his own way, he knew wisdom, as no man or spirit had before. Solas: Thank you.

Solas, sealing away the Gods and creating the veil felt undecided about his actions, his only purpose was to give Wisdom, however, he was given more, birthed a body to serve Mythal and the elven people.

He yearns to know if he was wise, if Mythal would agree, if the pain was worth it. As Cole depicts, locking away the elven gods and creating the veil was the right thing to do for all the elven people's sake.  

He had saved his people from a life of slavery, servitude and near annihilation, for fear of what the Evanuris may have wrought onto Arlathan.

After Solas woke from a long slumber, his next aim was to destroy the veil her originally erected, and restore the world of his time, the world of the elves, bringing back the ancient magics and destroying modern-day Thedas.

He planned on using the Orb of Destruction, however, he was to weak to unlock the orb, he passed the weapon to Corypheus through his network of spies so he could unlock it and die in the process.

As Corypheus unlocked the orb, destroyed the Conclave, killed the Divine and proceeded to ascend to Godhood, Solas decided to defeat the Magister by joining the Inquisition, once defeated, he'd reclaim his newly unlocked orb and destroy the veil.

The Inquisitor destroyed Corypheus in a heartbeat, however, Solas's orb wasn't so lucky, it had broke in the process of trembling rocks falling back to the ground.

His original plan failed, and now he seeks a new scheme to rip open the veil and restore the time of the elves. In hiding, Solas sought out Flemeth who carried but a wisp of Mythal's essence, remorsefully reconnecting with his queen.

"But the people, they need me"

It's unknown what exactly Solas and Mythal collaborated as they embraced, has Solas possessed Mythal's spirit into his own body or has Wisdom taken on a new purpose in order to destroy the veil?

Has Wisdom became Vengeance, so a reckoning that will shake the very heavens can be unleashed onto Thedas?

Is Wisdom no more but deceit, has his purpose changed? Is Vengeance his only hope at saving the elven people? Or will he become mad in the process? Perhaps even prideful?

Could this be the undoing of Solas? By possessing Mythal and becoming Vengeance, destroying the veil and perhaps turning into the Dread Wolf to cast the Evanuris out for good?  

Or will Wisdom recollect and stop before it's too late? The ambiguity between spirits and demons are far too tightly linked, even the thought of pride can make one stumble into damnation.

What is the future for Wisdom? Will he become Pride? Has he become something different, like Vengeance? Is his path already too late to be altered, or will Wisdom recollect his original purpose and save this world?

"Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance."

Tell me your thoughts down below, I have an Instagram account now so follow jackdaw journalism, but for all your things BioWare, you're already in the right place!  

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken Wings, pt. 6

06: Angels and Demons

Summary: Grayson puts words into actions, proving the truth. However, the truth doesn’t always set you free and the choices she has to make are about to be presented before her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

Word count: ~ 3k

Broken Wings (Angel Soulmate AU - G.D.) Series Masterlist

A/N - Really thought about deleting the series, but surprisingly got an idea for this chapter and I’m kind of proud of it. Sorry it took so long, I hope you guys like it. Let me know what you think! :)

Caroline gasped for air as the scene before her started to unfold. Grayson had done just what she asked and she was truly blessed to stand witness to his glory.

His white wings sprouted from his back slowly, widening and growing as the anticipation builds. They spread open until their size reaches full potential, the height being at least nine to ten feet and the width enough to encase a house should he wish it so.

The sun casts its rays upon them, making a play of colors dance before her eyes - each feather reflects the light in a color of its own, creating a rainbow spectacle that took every ounce of breath her lungs held onto. The feathers are a pearly white, pure as his heart seems to be - untainted by time and the challenges he faced, not one of them shadowing grey.

Caroline couldn’t stop her feet from moving forward, just like she couldn’t close her gaping mouth. It’s a basic instinct for her, to come closer to him, to touch him.

She can sense his uncertainty, perhaps even fear. Shifting her ‘O’ shaped lips into a smile, Caroline assures him there’s nothing to refrain from, not with her.

Reaching out, Caroline halts before touching his wings, glancing at his face for permission. Dead set on not pushing her luck or overwhelming him, she promised herself not to cross any boundaries - visible or invisible to her human eye.

A short nod on his behalf gives her exactly what she wanted for, a go ahead to feel this part of him she believed none of her previous counterparts saw. It gave her a sense of pride and honor, even smugness.

Is it normal to be jealous of your previous self?

She couldn’t tell, but she certainly felt her chest tighten and her heart unsettle whenever she thought about Grayson’s hand upon another, even if it was her.

Holding her breath, she dares to make contact. Her fingertips brush his feathers gingerly, the soft texture calming her and the warmth radiating from them bringing her breathing back to normal. Placing her palm against his right wing, she exhales loudly and heavily, chuckling under her breath.

Then, without a warning, Grayson encircles her with his strong, muscular arms, pulling her impossibly close to him. He tightens his hold, bends his knees and pushes her into his chest before jumping straight up and into the air.

A loud whooshing sound fills her ears as her eyes open wide, focusing on his sharp jaw and sparkling eyes.

“What are you doing?! Let me down, now!” Caroline shouts, squirming in his arms. Panic fills her, traveling through her veins and quickly clouding her judgement.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine. Look at the view.” Grayson snickers at her reaction, completely unaware of her fear of flying. Hell, even the plane ride over was disturbing enough and that’s when she had a metal cage to protect her. All she had now is a man with wings who didn’t even question why she’s terrified at the moment.

Unaccountable, she begins to fight him and his restrain, managing to see the ground is barely even visible from the height he took her to. She can’t stop herself from screaming, her hands turning into fists that deliver several powerful punches to his firm chest. Her struggle quickly turns too much, Grayson’s hold on her weakening until it’s gone and she slips out of his protective hold.

Breath caught in her throat, Caroline begins to barrel to the ground, her eyes set on the angel above her who let her fall to her death.

Perhaps he is right. He is my end and I his sorrow. Is this how they all felt?

She wonders, time slowing down around her as a tear slips past her eye before she closes them for the last time.

Or so she thought.

Not a moment after her eyes closed, the same arms that let her fall capture her once more. Her eyes snap open, seeing a semi worried and semi laughing Grayson settling her down on her own two feet.

His laugh is obnoxiously loud and high pitched, wheezing and panicked, but sincere. He doesn’t seem to think she was in any danger and he certainly found her near death experience amusing.

She didn’t.

Caroline places a hand over her chest, her heart hammering against it with everything it has. Her breathing is fast, quite shallow and the little oxygen her brain receives is enough for her fuse to blow.

“YOU DROPPED ME?!” Caroline screams, ending Grayson’s laughing fit and getting a serious response.

“You made me drop you with the fighting and all.” He shrugs, running the tip of his index finger along his bottom lip.

“I COULD HAVE DIED!” She buries her hands in her hair, trying to stop the world from spinning around her. It’s incredibly invigorating for some people – adrenaline rush and all, but she’s not one of those people. She likes security and ground. She likes the ground very much.

“But you didn’t. I caught you…easily too.” Grayson remarks, winking at her, still unaware how serious she is.

“For an angel that’s been around for thousands of years and claims he’s been in love with me for just as long, you’re so fucking clueless. I’m scared of heights, Grayson! I panicked and then you fucking dropped me and I thought I’d die. I wasn’t having fun, I was drowning in fear!” Caroline explains, placing her hands on her hips and her narrowed eyes on the angel before her who finally caught on.

Grayson paled visibly, changing his entire demeanor altogether.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t think. I – How can I make it up to you?” He spoke fast, gesticulating vaguely and moving toward her, wanting to hopefully comfort her or at the very least get her forgiveness. It dawned on him that she didn’t have to forgive him. She could push him away and there would be nothing he can do to change that and that thought alone had him fretting and burning inside.

“Easy there, angel wings.” It’s her turn to giggle now, noticing how his wings are pulled back and behind his back, making them seem smaller and compact – more like a fashion accessory for Halloween than actual functional wings.

“I’LL DO ANYTHING.” Grayson blurts out, giving her a desperate look she could hardly bare to look at. Puppy eyes is an understatement for the look in Grayson’s eyes, putting pups around the world to shame.

He did have centuries to practice that look to perfection, she reminds herself.

“I want more answers. All my questions answered, whenever and whatever it may be.” She states firmly, quirking her right eyebrow as Grayson nods vehemently.

“Are Ethan and Cameron angels too?” Caroline fires the first question, needing the answer to keep on going.

She starts moving toward the manor slowly, hearing a flap of wings and Grayson running after her. His shirt now ripped apart, his back open with two long, vertical scars along his shoulder blades, Grayson catches up and leads the walk back.

“Cameron is…and Ethan. He was. He used to be. Not anymore.” Grayson turns silent, something that always bothers Caroline.

She knows silence usually means torturing thy self and she wasn’t going to let him do that. Wallowing in self-pity is never the answer.

“What is he?”

“A demon. He chose Lucifer the night Amara was lost to us.” Grayson answers reluctantly, sighing right after. He pockets his right hand, moving through a field of tall grass and flowers seemingly unbothered, while Caroline pondered over his choice of the road back.

She didn’t question it, though.

“So, what is the deal with angels and demons? Between you and him?” Caroline doesn’t give up, quite the opposite. Her head is swarming with questions and he did say he’d answer all of them.

“Uh…well. The number of angels who have accepted their light side and the number of demons who have accepted the darkness is even at the moment. Any fight they could have would be equal and no winners would be crowned in the end. Only one angel remains undecided, much like in heaven.” Grayson stops, but Caroline finally understands.

“You.” She finishes his initial thought, getting a glance over his shoulder and a quick nod in return as confirmation.

“But why?” Caroline’s tone goes higher and the confusion laced in her voice forces a deep chuckle from Grayson. He stops, turning his body to face her and smiles.

“Isn’t it obvious? I choose you. I always choose you.” The sincerity in his voice catches Caroline off guard, swallowing thickly in response.

She never thought she would ever find anyone who’d love her. After her constant nightmares as a kid and lack of confidence as a teen and now the horrific shadows torturing her to the brink of sanity, she was convinced no man would love her. She believed she’s damaged beyond repair, a nutcase who is unworthy of affection. In her darkest hour, she believed she should be locked away from humanity where she couldn’t hurt anyone nor be hurt by anyone.

And then she met Grayson. A man – an angel, who quite literally loved her since the beginning of time and still chose her over and over again, despite the torture he endured for that choice. He chose her over his creator, over his family and over his own sanity and well-being. He made that choice every day for thousands of years, he loved her for THOUSANDS of years and it only became clear now – in this very moment as the sun illuminated his hazel eyes and she saw the sparkle they held whenever they’d share a look.

“Why? I mean, why haven’t you given up? All I do is bring you pain.” Her voice is shaky at best, filled with doubt, just not in him – but in herself.

Grayson reaches out, touching her face with his knuckle gliding down her left cheek.

“Because you’re my soulmate and if I give up on you, I give up on myself, humanity and all that’s good in the universe. Love I have for you isn’t erasable by time or sour memories of loss, it only grows with each passing moment.” His explanation makes her heartbeat quicken, her cheeks redden and her mind fizzle. He doesn’t even sound human anymore. Men don’t usually speak in that manor. Or ever.

“Did any of my predecessors know any of this?” She asks quietly, finding it hard to look away from his flawless face.

“No. Only you.” Grayson admits sheepishly. “You’re different somehow. I’m hoping it’s in a way that matters in the long run and leads toward happiness instead of tears. Only time will tell.” Grayson sighs as Caroline moves to stand beside him, nudging him to walk again.

Her head is spinning with all the new information thrown her way, but she’s happy she’s learning more. She no longer feels like she’s completely mad and in need of therapy.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Caroline looks up slyly, watching surprise pass on Grayson’s features.

“It’s not like I’m asking you to kiss me. I just want to know if you want to hold my hand.” She points out, biting the left corner of her bottom lip with curiosity sparking in her voice.

“Yes.” Grayson barely breaths the word out, his nostrils flaring with the heavy exhale.

Without restrain, Caroline’s fingers travel from his forearm and slip inside his hand, intertwining them in one swift move. She can hear his breathing change – first it ceases, but then it continues in a rhythm she deems normal for a grown man. She can sense his gaze upon her face, grinning uncontrollably at the contact she initiated.

It’s a single day they spent alone, one she never expected to have, yet it brought them so close together. So close that Caroline couldn’t imagine being separated from him again. Not in this lifetime or the next. She finally understood her previous choices concerning this particular angel for the feeling she gets just by holding his hand is worthy of a thousand deaths and more; which she suspects she lived through either way.

They finally reach the manor, seeing people give them surprised glances, pointing at their intertwined hands and goofy smile Grayson sported. It could be seen a mile away, just as the whispers around them spread like wildfire.

“Finally aware of the truth, are we?” Ethan steps in front of them, stopping their little love parade instantly. Caroline purses her lips, looking at Ethan tenderly. It’s a look that reminds him of his one true love, rendering him speechless for a moment. He didn’t expect to find Amara in any of her future reincarnations, but he’s always taken aback by the similarities Caroline shares with her.

“I’m sorry about Amara, Ethan. I truly am.” Caroline surprises them all with her words, mostly because she speaks as if she knows what went on between them.

And she does.

She felt her love for Ethan for it lives in her still. The remains of their relationship is still inside her mind and heart, like a distant echo of what was and could have been, but will never come to be. She can understand his choice, all while knowing well Amara wouldn’t have approved.

Amara always saw the best in Ethan. She knew of his great potential and kind heart. She loved his caution with emotions and people, for the reward she received when he finally opened up to her was unmatched by anything in the world. She enjoyed his jokes, even when no one understood them. Amara valued his thoughts and trusted him with her heart. She trusted him unconditionally and loved him fully, without measure. A single moment of weakness caused her to die and Ethan’s soul to turn dark.

She’ll never forgive herself for it.

“What do you know of her?” Ethan steps closer, his face inches away from hers as his voice turns dangerously low, almost into a growl.

Grayson goes to move him, but Caroline drops his hand and cups Ethan’s face with both her hands at once. She brushes her right thumb across his cheek as Amara once did, her eyes welling up as a smile breaks through.

“She loved you dearly. Still does. She misses you and hates what she forced you to become. In another life you’ll meet again, perhaps. It’s what she hopes, at least. Don’t let go of the light that flickers inside, Ethan. Hold on to it and let the flames grow until it’s a torch that ignites your soul. And then, let her go.” Caroline’s words widen Ethan’s eyes, his lips parting as he feels it’s no longer Caroline but Amara speaking. If he closed his eyes, it would be as if she’s there with him, holding him and speaking softly in his ear.

Ethan loved how patient she was with him or how she’d always find a way to include him the most mundane things a woman was supposed to do without a man in that time. She’d take him with her and talk about what she likes and dislikes, sing at the top of her lungs and have him join her. She freed him of the ‘fallen angel’ label he’s been carrying around and gave him a reason to live for. She showed him what’s right and what’s wrong, how to tell if his deeds should be corrected or not. There was no grey area when he was with her, only black and white. She lived in the white and he joined her without a doubt in his mind. Until she died and he crossed over to the darkness, never to return again. He couldn’t return after he made his choice and he knew she’d hate that about him if he ever saw her again.

Shocked, Ethan remained still in his place, almost frozen to the ground. He felt Caroline’s hands leave his face and he saw her step away from him. He could see her smile at his younger brother like he longed to be smiled at, finding a yearning in his heart for her hand to hold.

This one is different, he thought.

It wasn’t just about messing with Grayson anymore, but a true struggle within. He wanted her. He needed her, for she was Amara incorporated – but, dare he think, even a little better. She would be his fresh start, a chance of redemption he never thought was possible.

Could she save him?

“Be with me.” Ethan lets the words pass his lips unintentionally, getting a glare from Grayson as his reward for the lack of restrain.

“What?” Caroline frowns, unsure if this is a deceit from his demon side or a true request from the man who loved Amara so deeply once before. She remembered how happy she was then. It’s as if the longer she thought about her past life, the more she could reach. Every detail becoming prominent in her mind, almost tangible.

“If you stay with Grayson, death will be your gift for the love you give him. If you choose me, you’ll have my entire heart and soul. Anything you want to do, I’ll make sure you do. I’ll be your warrior, your lover and best friend. Whatever you need. So, choose me.” Ethan licks his lips, while Grayson’s hands ball into fists at his side.

Caroline can sense it, subconsciously encasing his fist in her hand and giving it a light squeeze.

“Love me.” Ethan finishes his offer, not breaking eye contact with Caroline who can see the fire in his eyes grow as does the pace of her heart.

She swallows thickly, finding herself torn – torn between loving Grayson who she barely knows and the love she feels oozing from Amara for Ethan who is standing before her with his heart open.

Angel vs. Demon.

This choice is unfathomable.

Perhaps I do need medication, she thinks.

Struggling to speak, wanting to form a firm ‘NO’, Grayson stops her with a surprising twist of his own.

“Choose him.”

Tags: @dancerwriter @peacedolantwins  @heeydolan @accalialionheart   @graydolan12  @xalayx  @fallinginlove-16 @deeteeeeevee

[sparemyocs]

Space Heater

Dorian wasn’t sure if he was lucky or unlucky that he was at the edge of camp when Cullen and Cassandra returned with the Herald. It was good, of course, that he’d made it out alive. It was one last fat middle finger to that Elder One. It was also nice to know that his late escape with Sera and Cassandra hadn’t been leaving the man to his death. But he was unconscious, all but frozen (how long had he been out in that blizzard?), and injured. Dorian didn’t know enough about healing to say exactly how serious the massive open gash stretching along his lower back was. It didn’t look good, limited as his view was with the elf in Cullen’s arms. As the rest of the camp spotted him, the silence changed. The dark and hollow miasma from before was charging. The mage couldn’t put an exact feeling to it, but it was at least brighter, and sharp at its edges. The Commander was chased off by the healers as soon as he got the Herald to a cot. He, Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana promptly gathered near the center of camp. Regrouping and taking a moment to simply be relieved that they hadn’t lost him. Though it didn’t take terribly long for the bickering to start about what had to happen next. As they got started, Dorian took the chance to slip through the healers. They didn’t seem pleased when they initially spotted him, but he offered himself as a spare source of heat and they let his presence go. Having command over fire didn’t always help much in this Maker-be-damned weather, but he was willing to try if it meant helping. He didn’t even question it when his hand was placed over a frostbitten ear (it was better than looking at it, red at best and a shade or two too dark the further out the cartilage went) and he was instructed to slowly heat it back up. Nor did he complain or roll his eyes when he was tasked with heating water. Just one more mage tasked with assisting.

As he worked (it wasn’t terribly demanding work once he got a rhythm), Dorian thought back to his brief time at Haven. The Herald had been surprised he wanted to stay, but then he’d taken it on himself to find a comfortable place for him in the village and introduced him to everyone who hadn’t been at Redcliff, even gave him a tour. When the Herald asked about his life and Tevinter, he’d been respectful and good-natured. He’d also asked for clarification and details and had the slightest forward lean and this tiny smile on his cute face as he listened. Apparently that was all normal for him though, of course. Hanhari was just like that. Friendly and sweet. He also had a pleasant voice and riveting eyes… The Herald of Andraste was an attractive person. If he was anything, he was too considerate for his own good. For the Inquisition however it was an incredibly important trait. So long as they weren’t crushed underfoot they’d be regarded well by history. Maybe. Never let it be said that Thedas treated it’s heroes kindly and the Herald being tied in with a hero that’s best remembered for being betrayed by their husband, set on fire, and ultimately stabbed to death did not bode well for him. Conversely, so far he’d survived: One Breach-opening explosion, trying to seal said Breach without help, a war zone, being thrown through time, successfully closing aforementioned Breach with help, the siege on Haven, whatever caused that gash the healers were closing up, meeting whatever-in-the-Void the Elder One is, an avalanche, and being strained alone and injured in a massive blizzard.

Will wonders never cease?

Even with magic, it seemed that gash would be leaving an ugly scar. Hopefully it’d remind the man he was still mortal. With that healed however, they took the chance to get the Herald into warmer, undamaged armor. Dorian was happy to wait and try and get his hands warmed back up. Tucking them under his armpits, he yawned as he felt the frantic and terrifying evening catching up with him. Dorian kept his focus on his hands when Mother Giselle sat on the opposite side of the Herald’s cot. The only sound for the next little while was from the Herald’s breathing, Dorian rubbing his hands together, and the bickering just outside. Once Dorian had warmed his own up, he reached for one of Hanhari’s hands to give it the same treatment. Just in case the gloves they’d put on him weren’t doing the trick of course. “I don’t know what you think you stand to gain here.” The woman’s stern voice made him lean back smoothly before reaching his goal. The shot of ice it’d sent into his stomach was hopefully not externally apparent. He cleared his throat tersely, “Pardon?” “The Herald is a good man, but I do not know if he has a good sense for people. Many wonder why a Tevinter mage would desire to help our cause.” Her voice was patient, her hands laying in her lap. Dorian took a deep breath and steeled himself, looking out into the night. “You talk as though this wouldn’t effect me if I wasn’t here.” “Is that all?” She wasn’t looking at him either, the lack of the uncomfortable prickling on his right side told him that much. It didn’t stop the warping feeling in his gut however. “And if it wasn’t? If I had something to prove?” “Is this the best way to prove it?” Dorian pressed his lips together tightly. “I can think of nowhere better.” His face felt like stone as he rushed into what he’d wanted to do before. Damn what the woman thought. He was here to help, to show that Tevinter was more than the South’s nasty rumors. His heart just about stopped cold when the little hand squeezed his. Mercifully he didn’t think the Chantry woman saw the way his brows jumped, and Hanhari’s eyes were still closed. “Mmm…. Elam'ar dinem?” The elf groaned quietly, eyes dragging open unwillingly. “I don’t speak Elvish I’m afraid. I doubt our dear Mother Giselle does either.” Giselle immediately put on her ‘motherly’ voice, “You need to-” “Elvhen, not Elvish sathan?” Sathan… Sathan… Right, please. “Of course Herald.” Dorian wondered how long he could keep from moving his hand. The elf had yet to draw attention to their linked hands, and Dorian would rather he didn’t. “Herald,” Mother Giselle softly asserted herself again, “you need rest. You’ve endured much.” “I am resting,” his eyes drifted closed again without ever looking to the woman to his right. “Just needed to be sure I had been found by Cullen and not Falon'Din.” “Who?” The woman tilted her head at the exhausted elf. “Falon'Din is one of the Creators. Guide of the Dead.” “I thought you believed in the Maker?” “I do.” Despite his body having the consistency of overcooked pasta for the most part, his confirmation was quietly jubilant. Something about the tone brought a little of the warmth back to Dorian’s chest. “You must upset everyone with beliefs like those.” “Elas te'rahn. I haven’t actually held them openly for a long time.” “I’m quite glad for you then. Anyhow, I just came around to be sure my services as a necromancer weren’t needed,” he placed the elf’s marked hand back on his chest, “but it seems Andraste worked yet another miracle on you.” The man gave a weak chuckle, just slightly shaking his head. Dorian tutted at the movement, “Rest more, argue against the wild tales less.” Dorian got a tired hum in response, which was enough for him to feel comfortable walking away.