#definitely not secretly hiding from the government as a human

[adornedsin]

Join me on Twitch tonight at 9pm PST to witness the Overwatch prowess of Adornedsin!

[mistyorchid]

Unrequited

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

summary: Your deep-seated fear of rejection is the only barrier preventing you from kissing the smug grin off of Logan's face. Thankfully, Logan can smell how much you want him. *reader's power is optimism, which Logan loves distrusts. warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, masturbation (fem!), scent kink, oral (fem!receiving), voyeurism, size difference, pussy worship, praise kink, pet names (sunshine, bub, doll, good girl), mention of unprotected p in v, using Logan's hair as handlebars. wc: 3.2k

Your world used to revolve around men. Now, your life revolves around the duty of saving it. If yearning for boys who never liked you back was an Olympic sport, you'd definitely win gold.

Everyone was in a good mood, having just returned from a government-sanctioned mission. The world needs the X-Men. You belonged to a community that respected your unique abilities. Powers aside, you were still a young woman yearning for romance. You forgot how it felt to be embarrassingly invested in a one-sided crush until you met Logan.

Your first mission seemed simple enough: act like Logan's arm candy for the night to investigate New York's elusive anti-mutant club. Memorize the names of club members, hide a mic in the manager's coat. In and out.

Unfortunately, Logan was more focused on how high the cut of your dress was. The unforgiving pink latex material suffocated your soft body and exaggerated the protruding curves of your breasts. As Charles described it, you needed to look like a liberated woman. The manager had a soft spot for confidence, and Charles explained that power attracts power.

Logan wished his hard cock was liberated from the uncomfortable friction caused by his slacks. That night, he learned that beauty truly is pain.

He watched as you glided around the room, earning lustful stares from the human members. Logan was ordered to blend into the crowd and allow you to complete the mission. His usual stoic demeanor was replaced with a charged, jealous glare.

"You're compromising the mission, Logan. I thought I taught you better," Charles tutted. His bald mentor checked in on their progress using cerebro's telepathic power.

Logan swatted his forehead, momentarily disoriented at the intrusion of Charles.

"Not my fault you put miss goody two-shoes in that god-awful dress," he snarled. "She's out of her element, and you know it."

"Her powers are extremely useful in this situation," Charles sighed. "You may not trust her, but her bubbly personality is the key to securing the club's trust. Just let her work . . . alone."

When the pressure in his head subsided, Logan knew that Charles no longer supervised the unholy thoughts bouncing against the adamantium confines of his brain.

He drifted to the bar and sat down, positioning the stool so he could maintain visual of your progress. Your kind eyes crinkled as you laughed and playfully swatted the manager's bicep. He painfully recalled the moment you revealed your powers to the group.

A month earlier, the X-Men gathered in the danger room to discuss how to approach the mission.

"The manager is emotionally vulnerable at this time. Surrounded by humans whose lives revolve around hate and mutant discrimination." Charles rubbed his temple to alleviate his anger.

"What is the opposite of hate?" Charles asked, turning his colleagues into students once again.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Please tell me it's not love, for Christ sakes."

"Optimism. The enemy of hate is hopefulness. Now, everyone, please give a warm welcome to our newest recruit." Charles gestured to a woman who was the physical embodiment of those girly 90s rom-coms Logan secretly enjoyed.

Her smile reached her eyes, symbolizing genuine happiness. She sported a vintage Talking Heads tee with an image of a lopsided smiley face. Logan's eyes drifted to the tiniest shorts he's ever seen, stopping just under the swell of your ass. Its whimsical star pattern complimented your sparkling teeth.

"Hey, guys. I'm so grateful to be here!" You cheered. Logan could tell you caught him staring by the sudden change in your demeanor.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you timidly explained, "Sorry about the get-up. My uniform's not ready yet."

Logan watched as you surveyed the room, eyes silently acknowledging Jean, Ororo, Scott, and Beast.

You confidently returned Logan's gaze with a dismissive scoff.

Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to your cheeriness. Usually, he distrusted kindness. It was a quality that was manipulated to deceive him countless times throughout the arduous decades of life he had unwillingly lived through.

Your benevolence seemed organic, almost innate.

You continued, "My power is optimism. In addition to what Charles explained, I can extract positive values from anyone and replace their malicious thoughts and intentions. Basically, I'll help the manager override his hatred of mutants. Hate is taught . . . I'll teach him a different lesson. One of hope, equality, and human-mutant coexistence."

Logan felt a blush brewing behind his rugged cheeks. Your eloquent explanation exuded more wisdom than he expected from a "sunshine and rainbows" type of girl. You matched his trademark cynicism with a grounded perspective of reality, but still saw the good in others.

Before Logan chose to introduce himself, Scott raised an eyebrow, silently teasing him for blushing at your words. Logan wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right about his budding interest in the new recruit.

He mockingly countered, "That's great, a 'glass half-full' mutant has never gotten us killed before. What's your code name, Cheshire Cat? Twinkle Toes?"

Scott caught Logan's eyes and mouthed, "Nice," with a sly smirk.

You wouldn't let him bask in the reflection of tears falling down your cheeks.

Logan cursed himself as you turned to face everyone but him. "I don't have a code name. I've got nothing to hide," you coolly responded.

Your face contorted with pain as you recalled your first interaction with Logan. After you'd successfully earned the trust of the anti-mutant club manager, however, he followed you around like a lost puppy.

Everyone was confused. This behavior was extremely irregular for a man who struggled with trusting long-term friends, let alone a woman he'd only known for a month.

He was addicted to the sweet aura of unbridled positivity that radiated from you. A tale old as time, darkness intertwining with light.

The jealousy he felt during your first mission played a significant factor in his romantic interest. It took all of his restraint (and Charles' disapproving words) not to slash the throats of every man who lusted over your latex-clad form.

You remembered Logan sitting at the bar, clearly uninterested in the mission at hand. Uninterested in you.

Clearly, communication was a skill you both needed to hone.

"Nice work, sunshine." Logan clapped a hand against your shoulder, congratulating you on another successful mission.

He was genuinely proud of you. You were awarded a medal of honor by the president for using positive forces to bridge the gap between mutants and humans.

Picking up your pace, you whipped your head around to acknowledge Logan. "Thanks. You know how much I hate that nickname, right?"

As the rest of the crew filed inside the mansion, excitedly discussing how to wind down after a job well done, Logan used his leverage on your shoulder to spin you around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Love to see how red your face gets." A smug grin was plastered over his stupid, annoying, handsome face.

You paused at the mansion's entrance. "Whatever, Logan. I'm not in the mood for your belittlement."

Slipping past the kinetic hallways of mutant students, you swung open the door to your room and started to undress, hoping to destress after a long day. You shrugged off your new uniform and slipped on your favorite Talking Heads tee, not bothering to wear shorts.

"God, so annoying." You sighed, crashing face-down into the bed. You replayed the interaction with Logan, hurt etching its way into your heart.

I won't let him get to me. He makes me feel like a fuckin' teenager!

"Nice work, sunshine," you mocked in a gruff voice.

Logan doubted your abilities, ignored you on your first mission, and patronized you with nicknames. It wasn't fun being the butt of a joke at the hands of someone you secretly admired. You wondered if his recent interest in you was malicious or sincere.

Despite the telltale signs, you seriously doubted that Logan was romantically interested in you.

Never chosen, always on the prowl for scraps of affection. Never again. Your kindness had been taken advantage of before. You quickly learned that the only person who truly loved you was yourself.

Sunshine. The crinkle of his eyes, those stupid tufts of hair that make him look like a cat.

Your hands slowly slipped under the hem of your shirt, inching towards your breasts.

He was staring at my ass when I met him. Wasn't he?

Your right hand softly tweaked your sensitive nipples. Sighing, you allowed yourself to toy with the thin band of your underwear before circling your clit.

Soft moans quickly grew into labored huffs of desperation. Lost in the gratifying haze of your pleasure, you forgot an important detail about your new living arrangement.

Logan couldn't believe the sounds he was hearing.

It's as if God himself probed his mind and decided to fulfill his deepest desires.

A beautiful arrangement of moans and sighs traveled through the hollow wood wall that separated your rooms. To confirm that he wasn't hallucinating, Logan tentatively pressed his ear against the wall.

"Oh, fuck," he heard you whine in a hushed voice.

He could hear the spontaneous hitch of your breath. "Ah! Logan . . . fuuuuck."

His body reacted to the utterance of his name, unconsciously unsheathing his claws.

It took him five seconds to bridge the distance between his front door and yours.

An abrupt knock on your door forced you to pause the act of self-love you were so invested in.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Logan smirked before answering, "It's me. You okay in there? Sounds like you're having a hard time breathin, bub."

That cocky motherfucker. You slapped a hand against your mouth to muffle your surprise. He probably heard everything, you thought, moving to open the door.

"Logan! I- I'm so sorry." You started playing with the loose strands of hair framing your face. He was leaning on the door frame, his large body teasingly blocking the entrance.

His eyes flitted to your hand, noting the nervous tick. As the scent of your hair wafted into his perceptive nostrils, his pupils dilated. He noticed the unmistakable smell of your arousal.

"No need to apologize, sunshine. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." Logan tried to ignore the enticing scent emanating from your body. His eyes searched the room for a point to fixate on. Anything but your pouty lips.

He registered bare legs. The adorable way you were standing, your right leg shifted over the left to distribute your weight. Any decorum he had vanished when his eyes landed on the girly panties you were wearing.

You inched closer to his broad frame, looking up into his downcast eyes. They were still trained on your lower half.

Sunshine. The heavy weight of his gaze. Familiar hallmarks of past interactions. Except this time, he was gawking at your panties instead of those cosmic booty shorts.

"I can smell you. Can't be that unbearable to be around, hm?" Logan teased, finally making eye contact.

"No, you're still an asshole. I'm done playing hot and cold with you." Your clothed tits grazed his taut stomach.

"You want this? Because if not, I'll take it like a man and leave." Logan asked, searching your face for any signs of hesitation.

You averted your eyes. "Do you want me?"

He understood why your response was laced with insecurity. His previous actions had placed a seed of doubt in your mind. Logan gently raised your chin, tilting your eyes into his. "Of course I do, doll. I might be a stubborn asshole, but I'm not too stubborn to admit that I want you. Always have, since I first met ya."

Shock flooded your features. A charged silence lingered in the air.

You caught Logan staring at your lips.

"Just kiss me, you big oaf." You brazenly commanded.

The arm that leaned against the door frame descended to the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest.

Logan closed the gap, not wanting to give you any reason to doubt his feelings for you.

It started sweet and timid, an innocent collage of bumping noses and delicate gasps. When you pulled apart for air, a thin string of spit connected your bottom lips.

You decided you needed his lips on yours in a drastically different way.

"Since you're here, think you can help a girl out?" You pushed yourself away from Logan, palms extended to his chest. You sat on the edge of your bed, slowly spreading your legs.

Logan choked on his words. "I, uh . . . I'd love to." Once in front of you, he kneeled down on his knees.

The playful contrast between your vintage Talking Heads tee and the lacey pink panties that covered your most intimate area made him dizzy.

The frilly nature of it was enough to make him crazy, but they just had to have a cute little bow at the top.

Logan ground himself into his jeans, its denim fabric the only layer separating his cock from the air.

"You sure about this, doll?" he asked, reluctantly drawing his eyes away from your cunt to analyze yours.

You tentatively weaved your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to the tufts. When he leaned into your touch, you knew that the admission of his affection was genuine.

Your hands ghosted over his, pulling them to land on the wide expanse of your thighs.

"I need you, Logan. I want this. Want you."

That was all Logan needed to hear before he hooked four fingers around the elastic of your panties, slowly moving them off of your legs.

You shivered when the room's cool air met your bare cunt.

Logan hooked his strong arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease. "Much better, doll. Wanna be close to her," he drawled, resting your legs over his shoulders.

His mouth hovered over you, fanning warm breaths that made you throb with anticipation.

Logan's lips ghosted over where the bow on your panties was and descended where you needed him most.

He gently kissed your clit, earning a soft gasp.

"Yeah, you like that, baby?" You whined a high-pitched "Mhm . . ."

Logan suddenly licked a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your wetness on the tip of his tongue.

"Need your words, bub. Wanna hear you."

He pulled away momentarily, massaging the sensitive flesh of your thighs. "Oh my god. Yes, I love it . . . please don't stop," you whined.

"That's a good-" Logan paused to pool the release still on his tongue and let gravity drip it onto your folds. "-girl. Fuck."

You sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. He stared at your cunt fluttering open and closed in response to the contact, aching to be filled.

He would tend to that later. Right now, he wanted to make you feel loved, cared for.

"You taste so fuckin' sweet, doll." Logan cooed, tracing the sensitive outline of your hole before sinking two of his thick fingers into your warmth.

Your hands found purchase in his hair, gasping at the sight of him stretching your walls. He slowly thrust his fingers in and out, steadily building the tension in your body.

"Yeah, hold onto me . . . guide me where you need me." The soft squelch of your wetness made him groan into your pussy.

"Fuck . . . you sound so beautiful, baby." Logan praised, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your clit once again.

He alternated between languidly enveloping your folds with his mouth and licking urgently at your sensitive bud.

"Ah! I- I'm close, Logan." You mewled, hips suddenly rising off the bed. The spontaneous action made your clit catch on the ridge of his strong nose.

You locked his head in between your legs, thighs abruptly closing due to the contact.

"You like that, hm?" he teased. You nodded rapidly, capturing your bottom lip in an attempt to subdue the embarrassing whines Logan was drawing out from you.

Once your thighs rested back on the bed, Logan pulled your legs even closer. You couldn't believe your eyes.

He started making out with your pussy.

Logan's mouth opened and closed again and again, latching onto your swollen lips. His pursed lips glistened with your release.

He actually sighed into your body when a particularly noisy kiss made you clench around his fingers.

"That's my good girl. So responsive . . . can you come for me, baby? Wanna taste you."

He curled his fingers, coaxing the spongy pad of your cervix on every thrust. His palm met your pussy with a steady plap, burying his fingers into your crying cunt.

Your legs started shaking. Unable to stave off your release, your thighs fluttered around Logan's head.

"Oh, fuck, Logan . . ." you moaned, sharply tugging his hair while falling backward onto the bed. You couldn't bring yourself to watch his sly grin as you came undone around him.

"Yes . . . ohmygodohmygod, ah!" You incoherently babbled.

Logan playfully slapped your puffy folds, stimulating you through your orgasm.

"Aw, would 'ya look at that . . . your pussy's blushing just for me, doll." He pressed another kiss to your pulsing clit, smirking into your skin.

He slowly removed your legs from his shoulders and caged your body under his, arms outstretched so as not to crush you.

Logan traced the plush outline of your bottom lip, teasing, "Speechless, huh? Guess I'm not that big of an asshole."

Your pupils dilated as you caressed the rugged expanse of his cheek. You hummed a soft, "Mhm . . ." in response, too fucked out to mumble something more comprehensible.

"Figured you deserved to feel good after what I put you through." Logan averted his eyes. He felt guilty, opening his mouth to apologize, but you silenced him with a sloppy kiss.

You tapped his right arm, silently asking him to lay down on the bed next to you. He moved to cuddle you, but you turned around and straddled his pelvis.

Grinding over his clothed bulge, you teased, "No need to apologize, Logan." Your release was creating a noticeable wet spot on the faded denim.

His hips bucked up to meet your tantalizing movements. His back arched at the thought of his bare cock finally feeling the plush embrace of your cunt.

"Let me make it up to you . . . you deserve to feel good, too."

Logan's hands rested on your torso, stilling your hips.

"If you keep moving like that, I won't get to come inside of you. You want me to fill you up? Hm?"

You mischievously dragged your cunt over the fly of his jeans, clit catching on the button.

"Who said you couldn't come in me more than once?"

Logan wrapped his arms behind the small of your back, pulling you to crash against his broad chest. His lips found your ear.

He whispered, "You fuckin' tease. Be careful what you wish for, bub. I have regenerative powers, remember? Could fuck you for hours, if you let me."

You suddenly nipped at his earlobe. "Oh, yeah? prove it. I'm not so sure, old man."

Logan propped up your chin, caressing the supple skin of your cheeks. Eyes darting between your doe eyes and pouty lips, he responded, "If I didn't heal so fast, you'd be the death of me."

You sealed his promise with a sweet kiss. The only lack of communication in your blossoming relationship would occur during intimate moments like these, lips slotted into the other's, ethereal sighs mingling with his intoxicating groans.

an: Whew! I spent a lot of time refining this one. I'm slowly working on improving the pacing and atmosphere of my work.

[pixelpumpkin]

dad who stepped up (from the shadows)

obkk | omegaverse | absolutely unserious (aka crack fic) | maybe part of a series | i don't have a beta and I'm not native speaker

A visit to Konoha leads Obito unwillingly (and secretly) back into Kakashi's life. or Obito have a mental breakdown when he finds out Kakashi is not a virgin.

For Obito, there were three absolute truths.

First, this world is rotten and needed of fixing.

Second, in this rotten world, only mercy the gods bestowed upon mankind was that Madara Uchiha never spread his genes.

Third, but not less important, Kakashi Hatake was a virgin.

He turned out to be wrong about all of those. It took him a long time to acknowledge his mistakes.

It started with a visit to Rin's grave.

Which was something that Obito didn't do in a while. Ever since the massacre, then when he was forced to be around Konoha for a while, he focused in other countries. It was not as if governments would collapse on their own—well, they sometimes did, but he didn't have time to wait for it.

He couldn't say he had a bad time last time he visited his birthplace. A lot happened, like visiting his late grandmother's favourite cafe which somehow led him to lose his virginity with a hot omega brunette named Sukea—which was completely unexpected, but definitely worth it.

It was not that Obito missed Konoha, he didn't. He simply wished to pay his respects to Rin. And his parents. And granny, because Obito was under the impression that the Tsuki no Me plan wouldn't be an excuse good enough to ignore her. Again, not that Obito was afraid of his grandmother, but he didn't want to have her haunting him anytime soon.

Granny had been a lovely woman. With a deadly glare Obito could still see if he closed his eyes.

These many reasons led him to Konoha once again.

He had a pleasant time talking to Rin and his parents and spent a good share of time explaining to granny why he had been absent for so long. Then, like all good things in his life, it was ruined by Kakashi Hatake.

First thing that came to Obito's mind when his former teammate showed up was: the audacity. Something inside of him boiled as he watched Bakashi approach Rin’s grave, but Obito wasn't that quick-tempered boy anymore, so he retracted and hide, so he could watch the scene—and complain about it for weeks later, though Obito wouldn't admit it to nobody.

Well, turned out he was about to have something worthy talking about. Because the scene that followed gagged the Uchiha so hard it almost brought up to surface his past fiery self, and he had to stop himself from gasping out loud.

Calmly, with short steps, Kakashi walked in, hands in his pockets and his usual jounin attire. Midway, he stopped. Obito's heart jumped in his chest, had he forgotten to hide his presence? Had he just blow up everything he did so far because he checked out Kakashi's butt for a second?

The answer came a second later.

“Mochi, aren't you coming?” Mochi? Who he thinks you're calling mochi, Bakashi? I'll show you the moc-

Obito didn't show him the mochi. Good thing, it'd be a drag to destroy years of work because he misunderstood Kakashi. Instead, the mochi showed itself.

Again, that almost made thirteen years old Obito Uchiha jump out of his chest to point and scream. Because the image was shocking. See, the thing about Kakashi is that it was much easier hating him when he wasn't followed by a pocket sized, round faced and wide-eyed tiny human being that had every reason to be called mochi.

Hell! That little sweet looking bunny was literally the cutest thing Obito had ever seen in his life! And he had been one of the first people to held baby Naruto, who was freaking cute with those whiskers! Yeah, Obito did kind of technically made little Naru an orphan, but it was unrelated to his appreciation of Minato-sensei and big sis Kushina's exceptional talent in making babies. He did held the “owwwnnn” during that even, like he was doing right now.

There weren't enough words to describe that girl's overload of cuteness! Gods! She walked kind of wobbly, but that might have something to do with the huge bouquet she was holding in her tiny hands—it was half her size, and wider than her, but sweet little mochi walked bravely with it. Her eyes revealed an absolutely unbothered nature, which hit Obito right through his heart. Her short dark hair flowed with the wind, and there was only one thing keeping Obito from dying of overdose of loveliness.

The fact that the girl wore a goddam mask.

Damn! It was like putting a pig costume on a puppy! Wait... No... Now that he was imagining it, a puppy in a pig costume was kind of cute too... Hm... Well! Obito could see the shadow of a pout in that little girl's face, and that god forsaken mask was preventing him from having this image, which for some reason made Obito absolutely mad. He growled slightly, then stopped himself. Weird. Usually, those secondary gender dynamics didn't take the best out of him. As a very late bloomer, he was used to keep the alpha quiet, which was good—that dude was crazy, even for Obito, you wouldn't think the things he made Obito think about late at night.

Yet, something about Kakashi and the little masked girl together made Obito's alpha really upset. Inside of Obito, that dude was making a weird dance as he gesticulated and screamed, good thing Obito turned the deaf ear to him—what could he possibly be saying that was important?

Only one thing mattered right now: who, in their right state of mind, would let a child alone with Friend Killer Kakashi? Even for Konoha's standards it was crazy, Obito doubted even the Sandaime would be obtuse enough to let it happen. Who were that girl's parents?

Obito's alpha did a double twist carp and landed in a split. Weird guy. Obito ignored him.

He put his hand on his chin, wondering who could possibly have sired such a sweet looking kid. Obito had set his eyes on that girl for one minute and a half and he had no doubts whatsoever that no cuter child has ever walked on Earth—nobody he knew could've produced her, they were all either murderers or losers or dead.

Obito's alpha drew the face of the cute brunette he met fiver years ago. Yeah, he had the potential, but that guy was too nice to even breath the same air as Kakashi, let alone allow his kid around him. No, it had to be someone else... Someone dumb... Someone dumb like...

“Aren't you late to meet your genin team, dada?”

... Like Kakashi, obviously!

That explained everythi—

WHAT. THE ACTUAL. FUCK.

World stopped spinning for a second. Obito almost fell from the tree he was hiding in.

Once again: What the actual fuck?!

Now, reformulating his past question: who was the idiot who had a child with Kakashi of all people?!

Not that he was judging (he was). It was just that... It’s Kakashi! How did he get long enough around someone to get them pregnant? And even if he did... Who?

Obito growled, picturing himself digging his teeth into an unknown throat until it's owner bled to death.

...Weird. Maybe it was Konoha's air. It always made him a little uneasy, like there was some strange scent in the air he couldn't quite tell but made it denser and hard to breathe. He should leave. Yeah, that was what he was supposed to do. He had people to kill, governments to overthrown, terrorist acts to commit in the name of the greater good. He did important things now, he couldn't keep up with the gossip in his former village.

Yet, he didn't move from the branch of the tree he had landed.

Obito had his sharingan activated, which meant that scene would be forever engraved in his mind. He wishes that girl wasn't wearing any mask, which made his heart twitch in a weird way, as if he had been stolen of something important, he was entitled to. His alpha was doing flips in the back of his mind. Weird guy...

Kakashi's little daughter—God, that was crazy to say—walked toward the grave with her giant bouquet. She put it in the ground and closed her eyes, as if in a silent prayer. Even though Obito couldn't see her face, he noticed the twitch of Kakashi's face's muscles, and he knew he was proudly smiling. For some reason, Obito liked that. He grits his teeth. He should definitely leave.

“Aunt Rin, it's me.” The little girl spoke, her voice had the same sleepy pitch as Kakashi's, and for a child that age she spoke rather clearly. She couldn't be older than four, Obito noticed, and something started to ring in the back of his mind. “Dada’s genin team passed the bells test. It's the first time it happens.” So... Kakashi was becoming a team leader. Was it a good idea? “He said there's only one more thing they need to do to get his approval.” Of course, he will do anything to run from responsibility. “They need Horin's approval.” Horin... Who even is Horin? Was it Kakashi's partner? Good, it'll make easier to track them and ki— “And I intend to give it to them. Horin always wanted big siblings!”

Ho... Rin.

The world went silent. It was her name. The little mochi.

It was Kakashi's daughter name. Horin. The audacity. He—

That stupid little—

Kakashi chuckled. It was so... sweet. And genuine. One of his hand caressed Horin's dark hair. Obito’s lips trembled, and he at once bit it. He wasn't sad, he told himself. Just mad. Mad because that... That Kakashi had a child with someone else and was bold enough to name that child after the girl he killed.

She looks so sweet... Look how she smiles with her eyes...

Kakashi don't deserve her. I should take her and raise her as my own.

Uh... Never mind.

His alpha knocked his head against an imaginary wall until he opened a hole in it.

Obito closed his hands in a fist.

“Don't be so sure you'll like then, how can you tell they're not annoying?” Kakashi inquired, picking up the little girl.

“Horin could do it in spite of you, for not giving her older siblings.”

Kakashi blushed inside his mask.

“Mochi, I was too young to have kids before you!” He said as he turned his back from the grave and walked away.

“I don't want to hear excuses, dada.” And like that, they disappeared amongst the trees, leaving Obito with the dreadful newfound knowledge that Kakashi had a kid.

Maybe Obito was hyperventilating, but it was just due to the weather in Konoha. After all, who cared if Kakashi had a kid? Like, not Obito. Not at all. It wasn't important in any way, and as soon as his body went back working Obito would return to his very important world domination agenda to never think about it again.

Yeah, he was about to leave at any moment.

So, Obito invaded a public building and was now going through top secret files.

Ok, those weren't top secret. But it was a public building. The hospital.

One never knows who he'll find looking through birth certificates of clan kids, right? There might be some juicy information to help him on his plans. Surely there was. Oh, so many interesting births. Maybe some kekkei genkai that could be useful? Yeah... Like... Oh, who knows? Hatake's white chakra? Oh, what is it? If it isn't Horin Hatake's birth certificate! What a coincidence! He might just leave it there, you know, there are plenty of...

Oh.

OH?

Obito brought the piece of paper the closest as possible from his face. He might've read it wrong.

He definitely did. This, or the doctors were absolute incompetents.

He turned the paper down, as if something would happen. He put it against the light, hoping to reveal a secret. He squished his eyes, because maybe he had developed myopia in the past few years and had read it wrong.

No, this can't be...

Obito dramatically slashed the paper against the table. He turned his back to it and raised a feet to leave. He couldn't stand any longer this Kakashi nonsense. Of course, everything about him had to be upsetting, and Obito was way to old for that shit,

He turned on his heel and picked on the paper again, activating his sharingan.

There wasn't a mistake. Unless someone had really messed up and written it wrong, which was unlikely because Kakashi himself probably had read that and wouldn't simply leave it with incorrect information. No. It was plain and clear. There was a signature in it. A fucking signature. It was an official document.

It read exactly what Obito thought it read.

Name: Horin Hatake.

Mother: Kakashi Hatake.

Father: Unknown.

Obito wasn't sure about which one of these shocked him the most.

He stared into the wall in absolute silence for five minutes. That wasn't a joke, he literally stood there for five minutes until a ninja entered the room and he freaked out and yeeted them into the Kamui. Great, he wasn't even planning killing someone that day! See what you just did, Kakashi? You killed someone!

That lying... that filthy... that...

Ugh! He couldn't even curse him anymore! His grandmother's ghost would come for him if he ever spoke an ill word against an omega. Omega! Kakashi... an omega! Obito could only remember all the times he was inappropriate around his former teammate.

He was so done. His granny would die again if she learned of it. He cursed (multiple times) in front of an omega! It was not that Obito thought badly of them, he didn't think omegas were any lesser in any way. But his grandmother was a traditional old omega lady who went through a lot. She raised him in a way in which you don't even invade an omega's personal space without humiliating yourself to them first to make sure it is okay to breath their air. Obito did much more than just invade Kakashi’s personal space...

Oh, no... Did Kakashi told his grandma how they talked to each other in a daily basis? Was she struck with disappointment and died of disgust? Did Obito accidentally kill his own grandma?

One thing was becoming a worldwide criminal, but killing his own grandma was a completely different level!

Obito looked to the dead body of the teen he had just cancelled off life. He walked past them and sat on the ground, taking off his mask as he went through all the apologies he could say to his grandma in a prayer. “I failed you grandma... I'm just like any other alpha who mistreats omegas! I'm so sorry! Please don't come pull my feet at night!”

The teenager moaned on the ground.

“Aren't you dead already?” He grunted before throwing a fireball at the Konoha ninja, then returning to his muttering. “Oh, my poor grandma... What would you think of me, now?” He hid his face in his hands.

Even though it was known early on he was an alpha, Obito had been extremely slow in growing into it. Different from guys such as Asuma or Ibiki, he didn't enter puberty as a tall and broad boy whose voice made other teens swoon. According to the doctors, it was completely normal and healthy, that the expectations for early maturations were unrealistic and based off old beliefs that more traditional people liked to spread in order to reinforce gender norms. Still, it was kind of annoying being the dead last even when it came to hormones, so it wasn't as if Obito was trying to bring up everyone's secondary gender.

Yeah, he assumed Kakashi was an alpha, what about it? Maybe they were similar in something, maybe he wasn't alone in this late puberty thing, maybe everyone's perfect genius also struggled with voice cracks! Ok, Kakashi was younger than him, but only slightly, and maybe Obito completely ignored it for his own delusions.

While alpha’s ruts (doctor's words) were expected to come around fifteen to seventeen in healthy conditions, heats usually came earlier for omegas. Around twelve or fourteen, something like that. Which meant that Obito probably wasn't around anymore when Kakashi had his first heat, and therefore he couldn't smell that Kakashi was an omega before, which led Obito to assume...

Well, Kakashi never said anything about his secondary gender, and it wasn't anyone's business to ask. But with an attitude like that, no wonder why thought he was an alpha boy. Why else he’d be so infuriating for Obito's slowly developing alpha?

But no... Turned out Kakashi had been an omega this whole time. He had been in the ANBU... He had been a ninja for so long... From such a young age... Oh, gods. It only got worse.

There was an “Unknown" below Horin's name. Unknown father... Someone had... With Kakashi.

Obito didn't know what was worse: little Horin being the result of a honeypot mission or little Horin having a deadbeat dad. Kakashi had been twenty-one when she was born, which thankfully wasn't as young as it could've been. Contraceptives could fail, of course, but Obito had a hard time imagining Kakashi deciding to keep a pregnancy from a mission. With the sort of mission, he probably was given, Obito wouldn't even be surprised.

Which meant...

There was a sudden murder feeling growing from Obito's gut to his throat, cutting through his body like a kunai. The sharingan activated again. Someone had abandoned Kaka— Horin. Obito shouldn't care, but simply picturing someone refusing to be in that little mochi's life made him burn of rage.

His alpha screamed in his shoulder. “Shut up! I'm trying to think!”

Gods... If only Minato-sensei had been ali—Well, let’s not think of it.

One thing for sure, if Minato-sensei had been alive, he would've hunt down this deadbeat father and skinned him alive, then he'd sell his organs in the dark market and give Kakashi the money from it. As he should.

Obito took a deep breath. He thought of his grandmother, who had raised a son entirely on her own, and then a grandson. She had been ostracized and segregated for years in her own clan. This world was cruel. Specially with omegas, and until this world was fixed, Obito had no choice but do the right thing. What Minato-sensei and granny would've wanted of him.

Even if from the shadows, he was not letting Kakashi down. Even if he was a friend killer who Obito hated. Little Horin had nothing to do with her mother's past crimes, she was a little pack of happiness and sunshine and Obito would kill whoever crossed her path and made her suffer.

He had no idea why it felt so personal. Really. He had the impression he was letting something slide. His alpha was moving his mouth frantically, but Obito knew better than to listen to those weird instincts that turned mankind into savages.

Obito was sure of two things. First, he had to find this deadbeat dad and make sure he suffers till he begs for forgiveness. Two, Horin was his responsibility. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy.

Maybe he should kidnap her or something.

OMAKE

Obito had never been inside a Jashinist temple. It was pleasantly clean, which was surprising considering their practices. He approached the priest, and after a short talk, the guy reassured him that no sin was beyond Lord Jashin's forgiveness.

Obito didn't believe in Jashin, but after his recent discovering, he decided he needed to confess himself. Otherwise, he wouldn't be capable of sleeping at night.

So, with a heavy heart, and after a long breath, he mumbled. “I might've indirectly caused my grandma's death.”

There was a moment of silence.

Next thing he knows he is running from jashinists who are screaming insults against him.

What a way to finish a rough day.

So, I kinda created this fic in 2020 after I read another fic. Unfortunately, I have the bad habit of reading fanfictions and not bookmarking them, which means I don't know which fic was that, but the concept is the same: Obito finds out he has a kid with Kakashi. Difference is that this one is absolute crack going off vibes (I mean, I haven't rewatched the anime or reread the manga recently, I'm just trying to have fun and enjoy one of my favourite ships of all time), and the fic that inspired me was exceptionally well written and angsty. Well, there is some lore to it (that I recycled from other fics I never properly wrote) and supposedly this should be part of a series, but I won't promise anything.

In the beginning, it was a fem Kakashi, which could've worked for the story, but I went with omegaverse with this one because... Why not... But I have a old art of it. My art style has completely changed ever since, but at least my girl Horin looks cute. Well, if you read this, thank you. Hopefully I'll work other parts of this story, but who knows...

[emilyreid]

Alone Together (2) - My Dear Steven

My Dear Steven,

My whole life I've preferred to be alone. I’ve always felt disconnected from the rest of the world....

Almost like an alien on my own planet. Like my mind didn't belong, or rather my soul. I looked at the rest of society and often thought about how absurd it was that people all follow these made-up conventions that govern our world. None of that is real. Work, money, laws, it's all just made-up bullshit that humans have, as they call it, “perfected” over countless years. I've always felt wrong. Like I looked at life differently. As if my brain was missing something that everybody else had. I felt broken. That was until I met you.

Steven, when I met you, my life changed. My heart changed. My soul changed. The moment we first spoke I felt this incredible, indescribable feeling in my heart. Like my brain finally understood why everything I'd ever experienced in this life happened. It was all to lead me to this moment. To you. As if my soul and yours were always meant to find each other.

It felt like, without knowing you, you knew everything there was to know about me, the real me, not the person I pretended to be for the convenience of others. When we began hanging out, driving each other to and from rugby practice, that's when I realized our minds were connected. The conversations we shared and the unspoken love between us from the moment we met made me realize that this was it. The reason I was put on this earth. It was so I could find you, and you, me. 

When you and I were alone together, I felt like I could breathe for the first time. Like the world was no longer a fog of confusion and chaos, I could see the world clearly as long as I was with you. The weight of life and everything that came with it was finally lifted off my shoulders. When we were alone together, I felt a sense of comfort and certainty. 

When we were with other people, we became the faces that they wanted us to be. There was a layer of us that we were hiding. But even amidst the others, we still secretly had one another. I could look at you and know, an hour from now when we're alone together, all will be right in the world because I'll have you and you will have me.

I like to think that you and I were painted by the same artist. Or created from the same star. Or maybe even “cut from the same cloth” as others say. The point is, you and I, Steven, we’re the definition of soulmates. You’re my definition of a soulmate. 

It breaks my heart to leave you, but you know I don’t have a choice. 

I hope you always know how much I love you. Our friendship meant more than the world to me because you were my whole world. Thank you for being the one person I preferred to be with rather than alone. I promise to find you in another universe. Now that I know you, you and I will never be alone again. We will always be alone together. 

Media Credits (In order of appearance)

Jim Stark

“Blue Cloud”

Robert Moss

Mirayam Kim

[maguro13-2]

Death Vengeance ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 3 Pt.8 (1/2)

"Somewhere back in Japan...."

Woman on Speaker : Good Afternoon, Hiromi.

Hiromi Hayashi : Good afternoon, ma'am. So got any updates?

I have the current report on the incidents in the early and mid 2000s. Back in 2003, a fictional city in the U.S. called Death City found out that it was caught in a failed terrorist attack by a heartless doppelganger of the "real" Shaula Gorgon, who disappeared from Japan that went hiding with the other two Gorgon sisters. We have confirmed that the witches of Witchkind were once fooled by the Seeker of Darkness, Ansem, who was not currently involved with the recent monster attacks of Bendy at Tokyo 5 years ago.

Hideki Hayashi : Hmm...Interesting fact that we managed to get the details that we waited for so long to hear this out. Them fools of protecting the Kusakabe legacy of having no rights that the meisters have been pawns to the family of Shinra Kusakabe all along. That means the Majo Detectives and so-called Keyblade wielders are making their moves getting closer to spread the truth.

Homura Hayashi : And it seems that the real Gorgon Sisters, the witch trio, were basicallyJapanese to us. The Americans thinking that immigration to one city built by the people of Tokyo in the Ohkuboverse 1000 years ago. It had been connecting to Shinra's time and pass before half of the Ohkuboverse was destroyed by this Time Eater.

Hideki Hayashi : And I bet it's no surprise that the Gorgon Sister are definitely humans and not those who are witches or monsters, like those Heartlesses that wreak havoc on the planet with darkness after everyone thinks that so-called madness is nothing but a word played by the Japanese their selves. The real world is nothing compared to the Ohkuboverse, a made up universe made by one man in the real world and he is the same man that gave birth to Shinra's world, which he foreshadowed a prequel manga in the year 2015.

Homura Hayashi : Right, Hideki-san. So Hiro, how are you planning to do with the Gorgon Sisters, the witch trio, the real ones that disappeared from the country and they have been founded by the detectives and Keyblade wielders?...Well?

Hiro Hayashi : [thinking] Hmmm...I think that would be the opportunity of them taken care by the Massachusetts State Government.

Woman on Speaker : Taken care by Massachusetts, sir? It's been a long time since you were only a boy after you met doctor Madoka as a kid. You got some reputation between you and the witch as well. Is she your admirer?

Hiro Hayashi : No...But sort of. Hmmm...[determined] Let's just say that the detective Ashley told us that we needed a benefactor to arrange the judiciaries for the trio's release. But follow the progress of them closely to us.

Woman on Speaker : Affirmative, sir. We'll get you ready. Be prepared for the release.

Hiro Hayashi : So, that old doctor of mine Madoka is secretly Medusa Gorgon this whole time from Japan and nobody would notice that the human is a witch, opposing herself as a heartless. I didn't hardly recognize that the fools of this planet would easily frame anyone for the crimes they've committed. I bet this Ansem fella would eventually make the world that...Soul World should end into the unknown realm called darkness, and that would be their last for their existence. But mark my words, you won't be seeing through the day when this is over for you, Makoto.

"Meanwhile back in 2003...."

[Shamar (Night) - Kenichi Tokoi]

Bandit : Well, this is it, guys! We finally made it to Egypt!

Maka Albarn : Ehh? This is the home land of Anubis? It looks totally Arabian style more than Egyptian to myself.

Moirai Albarn : I don't know how much of this place really costs. I don't know much about Egyptians, but sure do know that evil souls or heartless souls can be attracted. But I have solution that Egypt isn't affiliated with Soul world or the guys of the grim adventures of Billy and Mandy myself. That would make Egypt say something that Egypt isn't happy with this Soul World problem.

Kisara : Hardly, the world of Soul Eater itself is not related to world of the Pharaoh himself, but rest to assure that all of this was just to make Anubis or the Egyptian gods begged for the sake of the real world that what does the man-made Son of Shinra have to do with Anubis. He's not really happy with him after he the stole blue prints of a giant robot that belongs to the Gundam Properties. You must be those daughters of the legendary Phanto.

Moirai Albarn : That's right. We are the Phanto sisters, we are the sworn protectors of earth to defend the innocence from the faces of true evil! I'm Moirai and this is my sister. (Firmly shake hands with Kisara)

Kisara : Kisara, from the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise. I am commonly known as the keeper of a monster that I usually have to battle Zork.

Moirai Albarn : Monster? Keeper of what? (a shadow of Blue Eyes White Dragon appears before it vanishes back into Kisara's own shadow) Oh yes, I believe you are the keeper of that famous Monster Card. I thought I was always a kid that plays cards in my age. So, do you believe what is even happening here at egypt?

Kisara : Well, I do believe that I have a few minor details that this country has a pyramid that does not belong in Egypt,. it came from that Soul World manga where they think that Egypt has a pyramid for Anubis. So much for putting effort with all that structure. [hears people exclaiming] Something's not right here.

[sees people dancing to On the Bowl (A Fagus Mix) By Deavid Soul whilst the music plays in the background]

Person A : Yo! This music is sick! Look at me go!

Person B : There's no way that we can dance in the night, man!

Person C : Hey, check me out!

Person D : Wow, what a lovely evening to dance out here!

Person E : This is really Good Idea to have ourselves a party!

Kisara : Are those people dancing to this silly song?

Bandit : Not a silly song tho, but should dance music be playing in the background like that? I bet it's some kind of party going on, lately. Not sure how things work.

Moirai Albarn : No, it ain't no dance party and they got some pretty slick dance moves, but something's not right here in the picture. If I was able to dance that silly song from that Dreamcast Game, I bet I spy with the power of everything that I gifted.

Maka Albarn : Which is why I got a camera for excorcism!

Bandit : Maka, no! [CAMERA FLASHES]

[RECORD SCRATCH]

[Tails in Trouble - Takahito Eguchi]

Nobody : Oh sh**! They figured it out!

Maka Albarn : Hey, those people dancing in the night are...

Moirai Albarn : Just as I expected, Nobodies!

Nobody A : Oh, you are so dead, kid! We are about to teach you a lesson. Hey, Nobodies. Let's go sabotage these motherf**kers!

Nobody B : You said it!

Maka Albarn : We're outnumbered! There's no way we can stop those guys. It's too tough to have any affect on them!

Roxas : Then leave this one to me. I'm going to take these guys out, first. Well, what are you waiting for? Find Anubis and get to the Pyramid soon as possible!

Maka Albarn : Got it!

Roxas : Nobody makes a fool out of us, that's my call of putting Soul World Foundation to it's knees!

~ Thirty-Ninth Scene : Anubis in Pursuit Pt.2 ~

[tanglepelt]

Danny was at least not being watched by a assassin. Which was good. But a bat? He wasn’t too sure that was any better. Sure he wasn’t trying to actively kill him.

But. The guy was a supposed crime lord if tuckers research was correct. Or at least an ex one? He was kinda confused on the whole thing. Tucker did say he had been seen working with the normal bats. Who he really wanted to avoid.

Sure he wasn’t an ecto-entity so the government couldn’t legally experiment on him. But he was aiding the ghosts. Which was a crime. So he really didn’t want to draw any attention to himself.

He didn’t Even have access to his tech. So he couldn’t out run a bat. Not when it was their home turf. He’s parents said he wouldn’t need it in Gotham. No he would be perfectly safe. Nothing was going to happen. Him having it would also be a breach of contract apparently.

The ones the GIW had just renewed prior to booting him out of Amity. Definitely not intentional to ensure he couldn’t protect himself. Which in fact made him more vulnerable. No weapons not protective suit.

He was only human.

This assassination attempt would have had his hide if he wasn’t so used to ghost attacking him. Before the peeler, which thankfully he got to sam in time he was just using a mask and a poorly made disguise. Then the fact the moment he realized the ghost would be a problem. He asked his mom to tech him how to defend himself and fight. She loved the time they had spent together.

So he may be human but he’s been facing the undead and unkillable for a year at this point. And ugh. Vlad. The minute he found out he was phantom he claimed he was just like his mother. The only good thing about the fruitloop was he now had so much experience finding hidden cameras and bug. Guns and knives. He just had to be smart about.

Danny knew he couldn’t just bolt. It wouldn’t work. He still considered it as an option. He could always activate his distress signal on the PDA ticket snuck him. Seeing as his parents took his phone away and gave them one that only connected to them. He was a bad influence according to them.

Red huntress wouldn’t make it here quick enough and would just out her as giving two cents about a ghost ally. They were very careful to ensure she only looked like a ghost hunter. Gave her more freedom to help ghosts secretly.

Well. He’d do what he does best. Improvise. Play it cool calm and collected.

Danny: do you agree with the governments plan to eradicate and kill an entire species from a different dimension? Your answer very much matters. As i for one don’t.

Danny: the government is very much trying to kill me at the moment. Like sure i broke into a government facility. It wasn’t the first time. I couldn’t just leave ember and boxy strapped to medical tables. I can honestly say it wasn’t me who broke in the four times after.

Danny: but seriously they were going to kill ember and boxy. Like sure ember can mind control ppl by singing. And boxy can control boxes. But that doesn’t mean they deserve to be experimented on.

Danny: and like sure the dimension kidnapped my whole town for two days. But what do you expect when someone steal ancient artifacts from a different dimension. We opened the portal into their dimension not the other way. So really. It’s not their fault they suddenly have a new playground. That’s just how they work. Have obsessions and what not to fulfill.

Danny: and i may of broken then laws. But the anti ecto acts make killing an entire species okay. So if that makes me a criminal so be it.

Jason for his part. Had turned his comms on. And hadn’t managed to get a word in. Yea. This was a big problem.

Dpxdc 180

Did Danny abuse the fact the GIW needed his parents tech. Yes of course. Danny not phantom seemed to be the trouble maker as of late. His parent threatened to withhold tech and blue prints from them if the GIW touched their kids.

Did he get caught breaking ember and boxy out of a government facility? yes. He expected the lecture he got.

The next jail break. It was not him. It was sam, Then the third. Also not him. That was Val… then it was Tucker. But not him.

The blame fell on him.

He did not expect to be shipped out of state. The GIW were happy to cover all costs. Even got him into a decent highschool. And had an apartment all arranged.

Gotham?

Not where he was expecting.

The assassination attempts. Also surprising.

Not so surprising. Tucker found out the GIW wanted to “silence” him. Offering a lot of money.

Of course his parents don’t listen. He is 15 perfectly fine to be all alone. Even if he is near some place with the nickname crime alley. Nope. He is just being dramatic. They tell him no one wants him dead.

[dramioneasks]

Hi! I’m a newbie Dramione lover, and I fell deeply in love with Manacled. I was wondering if there are any stories similar? Preferably with the criteria:

-Dark-ish fic (serious circumstances like Voldemort winning)

- Slow burn romance (but not necessarily slow burn smut)

- Dark-ish Draco (dark without being abusive to Hermione. I can deal with Manacled because those were extenuating circumstances. But yeah definitely no Dark PWP fics or Hermione/Lucius/Voldemort pairings *shudders*

- Possessive Draco (because we all secretly love that)

- No Stockholm Syndrome plz. Some fics try and rationalise Draco’s dark behaviour instead of making him work for Hermiones love, and it’s annoying to invest my time into a 400K word fic just for the author to defend their triggering story. I don’t mind dubious consent, if only for the drama, as long as Hermione doesn’t forgive him straight away.

Obviously not asking for all criteria to be met haha. Just interested in these points simply because dark-ish fics are more entertaining and, and more enjoyable when Draco Malfoy is canon-complaint instead of being “secretly in love with Hermione for years for no reason whatsoever”.

Dragon in the Dark By: GracefulLioness - M, 31 chapters, Words: 172,205 - The battle is won, Voldemort is dead, but the war is far from over. In the new Death Eater regime, Draco Malfoy does what he must to survive and keep his mother safe. Now a highly trained assassin, Draco has learned to think of his targets as inhuman beings, but when he is tasked with killing someone from his past, he can no longer hide from the horrors of the world around him.

Title: Not Quite Dark Magic Author: hiccupfound Rating: M Genre(s): Angst, Romance Chapters: 30 Word Count: 107,154 Summary: Five years into to the war, the Order is pulling ahead after ages of drastically losing. Draco Malfoy notices. He wants in. He offers himself as a double agent, but the Order requests more. They’ve created a new spell that binds two people’s magical cores together in order to make a nearly unbeatable pair of duelists.Draco agrees to bind himself to the person most compatible with his magical core. Even if it is Hermione Granger.

Entanglement by blankfish - M, WIP - “Your loyalties begin and end with me now, Granger, or have you forgotten?” he spat bitterly. At the request of the Order, Hermione Granger marries Draco Malfoy, a man she’d only ever known as her enemy. This decision leads her on a winding path of tumultuous consequences that even she could not have predicted. Dramione War AU.

Turncoat By: elizaye Switching sides. - M, 101 chapters - “I have only one condition, and I trust it won’t be hard for you to meet. I want Granger.” Rated M for sex/language/torture.

Blade Of War - jlkihhhg - M, 18 chapters - She merely sulks in the pure fact that she has failed. The dark lord still stands after war and Hermione Granger has seen far too much for her own good. She repulses at the fact that she once sat in the same room with one of his workers, yet she isn’t that surprised. They both had stood on the same battlefield. (Dramione post war)

Draconian by hepburnettes - 50 Chapters - Draco Malfoy is Voldemort’s head Death-Eater, and Hermione Granger holds the key to his redemption. Together, they have to find a way to end the war in a world governed by draconian laws.

Title: Crimson with a Silver Lining Author: Lady Cailan Rating: M Summary: It is six years since the fall of the Ministry to Voldemort. Those other than purebloods are deemed less than human. When Ginny’s daughter ends up in grave danger, Hermione sells herself to the Death Eaters to save her life. Draco/Hermione. Not fluffy.

The Tower Window By: XoDramaQueenoX - M, 30 chapters - We all know the story. Harry Potter vanquishes the Dark Lord and the battle of Hogwarts is won. But the untold wrinkle is this: The Death Eaters didn’t quit and the war continued. After untold losses the Order of the Phoenix is almost gone. To save the wizarding world, Hermione takes it on herself to invoke a dangerous mission. She gives herself, as prisoner, to Draco Malfoy.

- Lisa

[transformers-fan-continuities]

Spotlight: Ties That Bind

This one’s a doozy folks! If you missed the last spotlight you can go read it here, but strap in for The Ties That Bind, an absolutely brilliant take on humanformers. It’s hosted here at @tiesthatbind-tf​ created by @artsy-hobbitses​!

Q) Give us a run down of your cont! What's it about, what's it called, what's it like?

Ties That Bind is a humanformers-based original continuity which is part Science Fiction and part Alternate History where the invasion of Quintessons and introduction of their technology to Earth in 1920 sets the world and humankind on a completely different trajectory. The active narrative spans a period from 1920 to 2070, covering the First and Second Quintesson Wars, the interplanetary Antillan War (leading to the creation of Unicron on Mars) and the Great War which involves the Autobots, Decepticons and Functionist stalwarts, and how it affects the characters.

The cast is pretty sprawling and the narrative is mostly centred around human drama with bits of humor interspaced and a dash of horror (mostly centred around how the previous government often chose to utilize the technology left behind from the Quintesson Wars to create new systems of oppression, which affected many of the characters, in the name of worldwide rebuilding efforts).

Q) What characters take the lead here? Any personal favorites?

I will admit to this continuity being very much heavy on the relationship between Old Bastards  Optimus Prime and Megatron, which is given considerable weight as they were best friends who had known each other since childhood and were deeply intrinsic to each other’s growths as individuals, which makes it all the worse when guilt and betrayal enter the party. Despite being captains in two corners of this battle, there’s a part of them that just cannot let go of their pasts together and they need to reconcile with how this will affect their agenda (Megatron) and how they lead their team (Optimus) who don’t necessarily share their history.

Other characters with significant development include:

Starscream, a Cold Construct in a toxic working relationship with Megatron with whom he is hiding a dark secret, who struggles to balance the underhanded viciousness he believes he needs to gain power and his innate desire from his Senate days to make the world a better place. 

Windblade, a Camien native who fights her government’s apathy concerning the situation on Earth which they see as unsalvageable compared to their more Utopian society. 

Prowl, a Cold Construct raised from childhood to be a cop in a police state, who finds out that he was brainwashed several times  to ensure his obedience and efficacy as a government asset and is now working to reclaim some semblance of the humanity he was never allowed to feel and figure out how much of him is who he really is and how much is programming.

Hound, a sheltered Beastman who joined the fight to ensure that Beastmen the world over would have the same rights he did in his homeland of Shetland Isle, but is forcefully stripped of his humanity and faced with his animal side during the war and has to relearn what personhood means amid his trauma.

Q) Is there a bigger point to this, like a theme or some catharsis? Or is it just fluffy fun?

God with the amount of time I spent sleepless trying to figure out how the logistics of this or the semantics of that were supposed to work in universe, I cannot for the life of me say it’s fluffy fun, but I can’t exactly say it hasn’t been pretty engaging either!

There’s elements of war being messy for everyone involved where there doesn’t seem to be a clear line between friend and foe at times, but I think for most part it prescribes to  Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s belief that people are inherently good, but are corrupted by the evils of society. Despite its dark themes (Including but not limited to child abuse, torture, illegal experimenation  and brainwashing), love and friendships do prevail, kindness does beget kindness, found families are made, even the smallest actions matter, and things do get better because there are people on both sides who genuinely want to, and strive to make it better.

With Cold Constructs and Beastmen, it also delves heavily into what it means to be human; to have agency and personhood.

There’s also a strong undercurrent of taking responsibility for one’s actions, even if they were made with the best of intentions (Avoidance of this is what eats up Starscream and Megatron from the inside, and what Starscream eventually embraces).

Q) How long have you been working on it?

There’s two answers to this!

I’ve had a Humanformers-related universe going all the way back to 2007 around the time the first Bayformers came out---basically I had a choice between learning to draw cars or draw people (I was an anthro artist back then) and I immediately chose people.

The 2007 draft however had no worldbuilding or connective storylines and was mostly a fun little venture into character design and practice which were actually instrumental to me experimenting and learning how to draw humans properly.

I left the fandom for about a decade and when I came back to it in late 2020 around September via the War for Cybertron series on Netflix, I immediately got hooked on the 2005 IDW comics I missed out on and wanted to get around to updating my old designs as well find a way to translate several of the concepts I wanted to explore in a human sense, so the 2020 update became its own full-fledged original continuity with detailed worldbuilding and history.

You can see the artistic evolution of several characters from their original incarnation below!

Q) It’s incredible to see your artistic improvement too! Give us a behind-the-scenes look! Show us a secret ;))

Say hello to my workspace! I’ve been working exclusively on the Ipad Pro since late 2016, which is fantastic because I can basically whip up concepts and sketches on the go anywhere. Nowhere is too out of bounds to work on TTB!

Also, do enjoy this sneak peek at true!form Rung, whose synthezoid human body took years to perfect.

Q) YESSSSS alright I must admit this is one of my favorite Rungs, and certainly my fave within TTB. Amazing. Phew, anyway. Where did you draw inspiration from? What canons, what other fiction, what parts of real life?

TTB was initially conceived as a faithful retelling of the IDW 2005 narrative before it was transformed into its own continuity and as such, it borrows heavily from concepts and mirrored plot lines introduced in that run! I chose to have the series inspired off it specifically for the amount of history and worldbuilding it introduced to the franchise.

Anime like Gunslinger Girl and Beastars inspired the depictions of Cold Constructs, especially the more harrowing aspects of their upbringing as government assets instead of children, and Beastmen (Beastformers) in TTB.

I haven’t depicted the world itself in my art all too much, but the architecture from Tiger and Bunny, which has sort of a futuristic Art Deco feel to it, is what you’d usually see in major cities. There is an in-universe reason for that---with a Point Of Divergence set in 1920 followed by 25 years (an entire generation) of progress basically being kicked to the curb due to the Quintesson wars, mankind was basically in a time-locked bubble until the end of the wars, and by then their heroes were 1920s-style rebellion leaders, which lead to 1920s fashion (especially among the Manual Working Class---Megatron, Jazz and Optimus all rock 1920s fashion at some point of their lives) and architecture being celebrated and retained as sort of a reminder of how things were before The Invasion. This anime’s background design is also where I adopted the tiered system TTB’s major metropolises are often built on (with each tier being designated to a different working class) from.

The main artistic style itself is a love letter to 90s cartoons, in particular Gargoyles’ deep and drama-driven character narratives and designs as well as The Centurions’ take on body armor logistics.

I also take inspiration, especially armor-wise, from the characters’ given heritage and background. As an example, Hotrod who is depicted as Irish has the flames on his armor done up with Celtic knots. Welsh aristocrat Mirage’s armor bears olden knight-style filigree and has his Autobot logo designed as a coat of arms. Indonesian Soundwave’s armor and Decepticon logo takes cues from Batik and Wayang Kulit while their mask is based off the Barong.

Q) They are absolutely gorgeous! Show off something you're really proud of, a particular favorite part of your cont.

The worldbuilding in general! Most Humanformers I’ve seen tend to treat it like a fun exercise which it is and is definitely valid, but I found myself wanting a full-fledged world to lose myself in and I sought to try and make that world myself by drafting a detailed history and timeline of events which would affect ongoing narratives, having indepth worldbuilding to include almost all societal aspects of the universe and  expanding on the concept of Beastmen and Cold Constructs existing in a human setting.

I’m not so secretly proud of the research and diversity included to make the cast look like the multicultural, globally-based team that they were meant to be instead of being locked to a single region! My original draft from 2007 was, to put it simply, quite culturally monolithic and I wanted to improve on that aspect with TTB.

I’m also proud that I’ve kept to it this far! I’m a notoriously flaky person jumping from one idea/fandom to another and to have kept at this continuity for the better part of ten months is honestly a personal feat.

Art-wise, this scene depicting a young Megatron working alongside Terminus and Impactor (cameo by @weapon-up-wallflower​‘s OC Missit!)  is definitely one of my favorites since it helps build up the world they live in and plays to familial bonds and comfort found in one another despite their less than ideal circumstances.

Q) Everything has come together so beautifully, you absolutely should be proud. What other fan canons do you love and why? Would you like to see them interviewed?

I am dying to hear more from @iscaredspider​’s Sparkpulse continuity! Her designs are MIND-BLOWINGLY GORGEOUS and I want to hear more about what inspired her to work on it!

Also YOU. Yes YOU BLURRITO. LET ME HEAR MORE ABOUT SNAP.

Q) [wails and squirms away in the mortifying ordeal of being known but in a very flattered way] I WILL SOMEDAY I PROMISE aflghsdjg thank you QwQ

Well that was fantastic, Oni, thank you muchly! A magnificent continuity with so much to look forward to! Coming up next is another personal fave of mine, the first inspiration for SNAP, so stick around...

[blu-eh]

after school summons

[AO3] 

or: Danny gets summoned. He doesn’t like it.

It starts with a tugging feeling in his very core.

Danny Fenton pauses. If there’s one thing he’s learned in the last year, it is not to ignore random things that are definitely ghostly in origin. He has just enough time to place his pencil on the desk from where he had dutifully been doing his homework—for the first time in two weeks, mind you—before his vision goes white, he hears a snap, and suddenly he’s not in his room anymore.

For a moment he’s weightless, lost in the feeling of falling. Then, his body jerks and he has just enough time to think, oh fuck—before he’s slammed to the ground hard.  His knees buckle under the unexpected weight and he goes down, clumsily, and trying not to throw up what little he’d managed to eat between homework packets.

“Ow,” Danny says.

He lies there, just for a moment, taking in the cool concrete underneath him. He tries to steady his breathing just enough so his mind can process what the hell just happened in the last thirty seconds. He’s still blinking stars from his eyes when he hears the hushed whispers echo around him and a heavy pair of footsteps approaching him. All in all, very bad signs when mysterious (and somewhat painful) things happen to you suddenly.

A gruff, questioning voice asks, “A child?”

“Oh, man,” Danny says, because that definitely does not sound good. Then he forces himself to his knees and looks up.

The first and foremost thing Danny notices is that he’s not alone. He’s on some sort of altar or platform, elevated a foot or so above the ground. A couple feet away, a group of no more than a dozen people surround him in a semi-circle, faces all covered by tattered cloaks. Another cloaked figure, dressed in much more formal robes with gold trimming, stands on the platform a mere couple feet from where Danny is. They all seem to be staring at him, waiting.

Danny hastily gets to his feet. He shifts a little into a sloppy fighting stance, just in case things were to get messy.

The dimly-lit warehouse room and the head covers don’t give him much to work with in the facial feature department, but he’s pretty confident that none of them are ghosts. Mostly from the fact that none of them are glowing and/or ranting about how much of a pain in the ass he is, but it still pays to be wary. Especially when Danny’s situations tend to quickly dissolve from bad to oh my god there are ghosts lose in Amity Park and also he maybe-sort of-possibly died in the process.  

Which brings him back to his next brilliant deduction; he’s definitely in ghost form. He definitely was not in ghost form before this. His ghost form is rather obvious considering he sticks out like a glow stick in darkness of the warehouse. He doesn’t even feel the need to check his hair color, this time, but that’s more due to the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the weird people who managed to summon him from his bedroom and forced him to change into his ghost form.

(He desperately hopes that they hadn’t seen him change—weird warehouse people are not people that Danny generally associates with secret keeping.)

“Is this a cult thing?” Danny asks before any of them can speak. He takes in white line that surrounds him, and the red liquid (which he very much hopes is not blood) used to paint runes and symbols that circle him, and their weird cloak-like robes, and says, “This is definitely a cult thing. Oh my god, did you summon me? Seriously—”

Before this, he hadn't even known he could be summoned. It's just the little ghostly things learned via accident, sometimes, that truly take the icing on the cake.

There’s a tiny spark of anxiety in his gut, but honestly there’s a large difference between humans threatening him and ghosts threatening him. On one hand, he’d take weird cultist over Skulker’s lair any day. On the other hand, pure white walls and experimentation tables aren’t super high on his to visit list either. Worst comes to worst—before they sacrifice him to some ancient gods, more likely—he puts on his scary face (and maybe adds a couple of explosions) and slips out before they even notice he’s missing.

“Silence, creature,” the robed man snaps. Danny zeros in on him and immediately deduces him to be leader from vibes alone. Also the gold trimming on his robe, which very much screams leader of weird cult that summons ghost kids.

“I—okay, you know what? That was just rude,” Danny says. He points to the white line that surrounds him, “Is that cocaine?”

Danny has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the answer to the mysterious red liquid and painted symbols, so he doesn’t ask.

“It’s salt,” one of the other cloaked figures answers, like it should be obvious.

(It’s not actually obvious, and actually leaves Danny with more questions than he started with. Mostly in the realm of how did a group of cultists summon him with salt. He knows salt is supposedly an anti-ghost measure, but Danny is pretty convinced it has little to no effect on him considering the amount of Nasty Burger fries he’s consumed haven’t taken him out yet.)

“Salt,” Danny repeats. He pauses, then awkwardly tags on, “That’s good, I guess, because drugs are bad. Uh, don’t do drugs.”

A cultist quietly, and a little slowly, answers back, “We, uh, don’t.”

“Right,” Danny says. His eyes catch another section of weird in this already weird, cultist warehouse. At the base of the platform sits a variety of bones, so fresh that some of the muscle still clings to them. “Are those bones? Oh my god, did you sacrifice someone? That’s not cool! Murder isn’t cool!”

“Those are goat bones,” another follower says.

“Oh,” Danny says. “Well, I mean, that’s still fucked up on a variety of levels, but I guess that’s better than murder. Unless it's considered goat murder? Uh.”

For a second, there’s silence. The nature of the interaction is so awkward and oppressing that he almost goes invisible just to save himself the scrutiny of these random people and get the hell out of dodge. His curiosity is the only thing that holds him back—that, and the fact that he’s not quite sure if any of these people are secretly hiding ecto-weapons.

Danny very much does not want to be shot tonight.

He looks around the room, eyes taking in every inch of the sparsely decorated warehouse. There’s nothing that immediately grabs his attention, nor anything that really screams danger but it pays to be suspicious of his surroundings in his line of work. A few of the cultists notice this, and start shifting awkwardly as Danny looks over them as well.

Then, Danny’s eyes flicks back to the lead cultist and he says, “I’m going to be real honest here and say that I have no idea what the heck is going on.”

The leader makes no inclination that he acknowledges any word that comes from Danny’s mouth. Instead, he brings an old, wrinkled hand up to his face, like he’s thinking about some complex problem. The leader circles Danny once, then again, and Danny feels something inside him defensively coil like a spring.

He tries not to be bothered when people treat him as something lesser—it’s not, exactly, uncommon for him to encounter. He dealt with being shoved into lockers long before he died, anyways. It doesn’t stop his shoulders from tensing just the barest amount.

Instead of showing this, he brings his feet up to his chest and crosses them mid-air, and fakes a yawn for good measure. A few of the other cultists gasp in wonder and fear. The leader simply stops his prowling and turns to face Danny.

“So this is the fabled Ghost King,” the man says, like he expected better.

Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn’t for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. “…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?”

The man pauses, and asks, “Pariah Dark?”

“Yes! He’s like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same.”

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. Danny bares his teeth in their direction, just to see them squirm. A couple take worried steps back and Danny fights off a satisfied grin.

Hey, poke a bull and get the horns. In this case, summon a ghost-teenager and get the ecto-powers.

(He’s slowly becoming more and more aware that these people have no idea what they’re doing.)

“I see,” the leader says. From his tone, he definitely does not see. “It doesn’t matter. Our book summoned the King of Ghosts and that is you, so you will do as we tell you and your pain will be lessened.”

“I am still not the Ghost King,” Danny tells him. “And no thanks. I’ve already used my yearly cult sign up and I can’t say I’m thrilled to join another. If you’re going to hold an initiation ceremony, at least decorate a bit first. Uh, not counting the goat bones and salt, of course.”

“You have no choice,” the leader snaps and steps a bit closer to him. Danny merely raises an eyebrow. “We are the Followers of Infernal. We have summoned you to serve us. You are bound to our will and bound to our grace, as the book foretold. Now bow, demon, for we are your new masters.”

There’s a very large portion of Danny Fenton that is convinced any good karma he held in life did not pass with him during his death a mere year ago. An even larger portion of him is convinced that these guys are no more serious than the GIW is. Danny does not tell the cultists this.

Instead, he squints and says, “Alright. I definitely failed US Government, but I’m pretty sure that’s not legal. Don’t you guys need like, a permit to summon undead beings of mass power?”

“It thinks it’s funny.” The leader’s face is mostly hidden by his robe, but Danny can imagine the sneer there from his tone alone.

“Trust me, I’m not the one who’s a joke right now,” Danny says. He looks back over at the dozen or so followers and grins at them. They don’t seem too keen that he’s not following their master’s orders and bending to their will. He turns back to the leader. “What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“If I follow you and stuff, what’s in it for me?”

The leader pauses, then says, “You will be spared of punishment.”

“Hmm, that’s not good enough,” Danny says. He angles his body so he's once again looking at the followers and points at one in the middle. “Hey, you! With the cloak. No, not you, the other dude. To the left. Yeah! You. What do you have to offer me?”

The follower looks so startled that he cowers for a second. Then, seeing as he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ashes from Danny’s gaze alone, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small and silver. “Uh, I have a paper clip, your ghostliness.”

“A paper clip,” Danny repeats. “Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. That sounds neat.”

“You’ll submit to us?” the man sounds so hopeful that Danny almost feels bad for being a jerk. Then, he remembers that they summoned him out of his nice, warm bedroom at ass-o’clock in the night and feels significantly less amounts of pity.

“No, dude, I’m not being your sack of potatoes for a paper clip. Man, you guys are stupid.” Danny rolls his eyes and floats just a bit higher. The other followers shuffle around again, uncomfortable. In front of him, the leader remains impassive as ever. “Where even am I?”

“The lair which you will spend the rest of your afterlife,” the leader says.

“Okay, this is definitely a warehouse, firstly. And secondly, dude, I meant what state.”

“…Wisconsin,” the man allows because of course everything terrible happens in Wisconsin.

“You chose the worst state to have your crappy lair,” Danny tells them. Now he has to fly a couple hundred miles home and hope he gets there by morning, all the while avoiding his creepy, obsessed arch-nemesis. He wonders if Vlad is even aware there’s a ghost-obsessed cult in his home state. Probably not. “Nothing good ever comes from Wisconsin. You can take that as, like, ghostly wisdom or something.”

“Hey,” one of the cultists says, offended. “The Packers are in Wisconsin.”

“Nothing good,” Danny repeats, firmly.

“Enough of this nonsense,” the leader says. “It’s trying to distract you because it fears control. Briar, bring me the orb.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them says.

The followers mutter to themselves and teeter around in their positions. The woman who spoke, on the end, bows and scurries off. Danny watches as she runs through the darkness of the warehouse, footsteps echoing around them, until he can no longer see her among the darkness.  

“Hey, if they already listen to you then why do you need me?” Danny asks. The leader doesn’t answer, so Danny floats a bit on his side and puts his arms behind his head. “What kind of orb are we talking about, anyways? Like one of those Spirit Halloween ones? Or is it more like orbeeze? I can’t saw I’m super excited from your ominous it fears control statement, but—"

“Silence, beast,” the leader says.

Danny huffs. “I’m just asking. No need to be so snippy.”  

The man ignores him which, rude. Danny’s just about to see how far he can test this guy’s patience when Briar comes back, just as quickly as she had disappeared. She jogs through the warehouse and up the steps of the platform. Danny can’t see her face, but from the way her hood moves to glace at him every so often, he figures that she’s probably nervous. Specifically about him lounging around in a circle full of salt.

“Father Johnathan,” Briar says and bows. In her hands is a glowing, silver orb. It really did look like a generic orb one would find in a Spirit Halloween. “The orb.”

“Your name is Father Johnathan?” Danny asks. He eyes the orb for a second, but doesn’t feel the tingle of ghostly energy from it, so he ignores it. He turns right back to the leader, not able to keep the grin off his face. “Your name is really Father Johnathan?”

Father Johnathan gently takes the orb in his hands as Briar scurries off towards the rest of the followers. Then, he sighs and says, “Yes, creature, my name is Father Johnathan and I shall be your new master.”

“Oh my god,” Danny says, positively gleeful. “I meet real life Papa John and he summons me with salt and threatens me with a Spirit Halloween orb.”

“Laugh all you want,” Papa John says. The nervous air shifts into something a bit more predatory. “You will not be laughing much longer.”

The cultists break into applause and talk amongst themselves loudly. They shift forward, eagerly, as if they want to watch the spectacle up close. They’re only a foot or so away from the platform when Papa John waves at them to halt.

Papa John holds up the orb. It swirls, the silver fog inside consolidating and then dissipating. Something inside it starts to glow the barest amount.

Danny pauses, just for a second, and watches it. There's still no tingle of ghostly energy coming from it. If he hadn’t already thought these guys are a joke, he definitely would’ve been a tad more nervous. As it stands, he thinks nothing of it—no ghostly energy means no control over ghosts.

(Unfortunately, he knows the feeling of ghost-controlling objects quite well. It’s not an experience he’s eager to repeat.)

The orb glows brighter, and brighter, swirling more furiously. The chatter of the cultists picks up to the point where they’re almost shouting, jeering at him. Papa John draws closer and closer, orb outstretched. He holds it through the salt line and touches it to Danny’s chest. The shouting from his followers almost becomes unbearable.

And then….nothing. The orb stops glowing. The fog inside stops swirling. It simply dies in Papa John’s hand.

“Was that supposed to do something?” Danny asks.

Papa John touches him with the orb again, a tad more forceful, so Danny assumes it was supposed to do something. From the panicked whispers around him, it definitely was supposed to do something to him. Danny’s honestly not sure if the outcome is due to him being a halfa or these guys being a joke.

(He’s willing to bet it’s the latter.)

“I think your LED batteries died,” Danny tells him. “Or maybe you mixed up your Spirit Halloween orbs. Better luck next time.”

Papa John stops furiously pressing the orb to his chest and if Danny could see his face, he has no doubts that Papa John’s expression would be livid.

“You will obey us,” Papa John says.

“No,” Danny says. “I won’t.”

“You will—”

Danny swings his feet down so hard that he cracks the very ground he now stands on. Dust kicks up around him as he stands tall, even though Danny’s at least two feet shorter than the leader in front of him. His eyes burn a brilliant green and he crosses his hands over his chest in an effort to look intimidating. The cult thing is interesting and all, but it's late, he still has homework to do, and Jazz has definitely noticed him missing by now so it's probably better to end this before they can get another object from a Spirit Halloween and try that instead.

It works, if the half-step back from Papa John is anything to go by.

“Listen,” Danny says, flatly. “Get a hobby and leave me alone or else you won’t like what I’m going to do.”

He makes his form flicker and the temperature drop in the room, just for dramatic effect.

Some of the followers in the background shift uneasily. A couple take panicked steps back. More than a few look ready to bolt for the door and leave this cult business behind forever.

Danny takes notice and stares at them, smiling wide enough that they could see his slightly-toothy grin. He makes sure his eyes flare, just a touch, and says loudly, “Boo.”

To say the cultists are startled would be an understatement. More than a few stumble back, a couple falling onto their asses. One trips on their robe and is sent tumbling. Another one yells and cowers. Papa John has no time to reign in the situation before two scatter completely.

“Peace!” Papa John shouts over the chaos of a dozen panicking followers. Those that remain do settle down enough to hear his words. “Stand down, there is nothing to fear. It is only trying to scare you into letting it free. It is trapped whilst it remains in the circle.”

Danny snorts. “I can leave any time I want.”

“You cannot leave here, demon—”

Danny raises one single eyebrow and dutifully steps out of the summoning circle.

The warehouse erupts into chaos.

The cultists are yelling now, but this time there’s only because of fear. They scatter over each other, running and tripping over their obnoxiously long cloaks. A couple trample the goat bones to the point where several loud snaps are heard over the pandemonium. It only adds more fuel to the fire as less than a dozen people scramble to get as far away from the platform—and subsequently the ghost-kid—as possible.

“Do better than a paperclip, next time!” Danny calls out to them. They only seem to run faster at the sound of his voice.

Papa John is the only one who doesn’t run. He had stumbled off the platform and away from Danny the second that Danny made it over the salt line. However, in the disarray, he had been knocked to the ground, his orb lay broken at his feet, and his robe’s hood had been yanked off and left on the ground beside him. He sits, frozen, but Danny doesn’t know if it’s from shock or from fear.

Danny takes a step closer to him.

“How…?” Papa John whispers. He’s not looking at Danny—only his old, wrinkled hands. He’s bald, with brown eyes. He looks like nothing more than any generic old man that Danny would see at a grocery store on Sunday afternoon. “We followed the book. We…we took every precaution the book said. We were supposed to have the perfect slave, bound to our every word. We…”

“That didn’t work out too well for you, huh?” Danny says and crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s ‘cause you forgot the dunce cap when you decided to be the class clown.”

“Please,” Papa John says. “Spare me.”

There’s something wrong about this—seeing a human beg for his life at Danny’s feet. Danny doesn’t want to be feared. He never has wanted to be feared.

He presses his lips together and takes a single step back. Some part of him, though, knows that he desperately needs to make his point clear to avoid another situation like this (likely with more weapons, next time).

“I warned you,” Danny says softly. His voice echoes around the warehouse. The man below him shivers in terror. “Do not summon me again, or I won’t be so nice next time.” He pauses, just for a second and can't help but tag on, "Papa John."

He lets his threat linger and hopes the man takes it seriously enough that he won’t get summoned again. Then, the cool strings of invisibility wrap around his body and he disappears from sight. Danny takes one look at the man left on the floor before he shakes his head and shoots up into the Wisconsin night sky. He doesn't hear the shouted response of it's Father Johnathan from several hundred feet below him on the warehouse floor.

Danny waits about all of thirty seconds before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

"Jazz? Hey, yeah, I'm fine. Yes, seriously, I'm fine but you are not going to believe what I just went through—"

[tartagilicious]

[CN] victor’s double seventh/qixi date (eng)

this translation was a whole trip mythological aus are the best 😭 for this date, because his name is important to the plot, I decided to keep it as his CN name, Li Zeyan!

all of the qixi translations this year were divided up by a small group of translators, and you can find them on their blogs: @cheri-translates​ did Gavin’s, @redqueenschoice​ did Shaw’s and Lucien’s (though they’re available on Cheri’s blog), @skyholders​ did Kiro’s, and of course, I did Victor’s!

— 

Soldier A: Where did you go?

Soldier B: There is no other way, they must have run into the woods!

Officer A: Chase them!

The voices of the officers and soldiers faded away. I slowly rose from the riverbank and made sure there was no one around. Finally, after a while passed, I stood up straight and took a few deep breaths.

Gripping the peach wood sword in one hand, I carefully picked up my skirt and prepared to step ashore.

??: who are you?

MC: !

As soon as I was about to act, my arm was suddenly pulled tightly, and the sword in my hand almost fell.

I turned my head to see a man behind me squinting at me, and his expression became even more gloomy when he saw my sword. With horns on top of his head, and a tail behind him trailing up to my legs, he seemed to want to impede my actions…

??: This sword…

MC: D-Demon!

I yelled desperately to avoid him, but he was too strong, my attempts ultimately having no effect.

Soldier B: I heard her voice! Over there!

Hearing the voices of officers and soldiers coming from the fork of the mountain road, me and the “Youkai” in front of me were both stunned.

[youkai (妖怪) are a class of supernatural monsters in japanese folklore, and the term doesn’t translate to anything directly, but traditionally means demon or spirit]

I was suddenly reminded of the importance of keeping the peach sword. I didn’t know where I borrowed the strength from, but I broke free of his shackles and forced him back into the water.

MC: Demon, since you haven’t had time to eat me, I won't involve you… so, you hide here, I have to go first!

I picked up my skirt to run once again, but the soaked clothes had since become heavier, and I almost couldn’t even stand firm when I left the river. A very light sigh seemed to be heard behind me, and I was pulled back into the water by force, my back pressing against a warm chest.

MC: you--

“Youkai” ignored me, just casually glancing at the soldiers and officers passing by. I followed his gaze and saw that the vines on the edge of the cliff moved by themselves, entangling the ankles of the officers and soldiers and throwing them back onto the mountain road.

MC: You… be merciful. They are annoying, but not deserving of death.

??: They are not qualified to be killed by me.

As soon as the voice fell, the several officers and soldiers got up and stumbled away. I had just breathed a sigh of relief when the “Youkai” behind me refocused on me.

??: What crime did you commit?

MC: I didn’t commit any crime! I only got my belonging back, it’s those people who are wrong.

I hugged the sword in my arms angrily, and noticing his gaze on me, I immediately regained my bearings.

MC: well… thank you for helping me just now, but can you please not eat me?

??: Didn’t you dare to push me into the water?

He pointed to the peach wood sword in my arms.

??: Is that what opens the barrier?

Barrier?

I looked down thoughtfully. I once heard my father say that there is a kind of barrier that can seal away monsters, and only a peach wood sword stained with one’s blood can break open the entrance. Since more than ten years ago, outside the barrier is no longer home to monsters, but--

MC: could it be that you are… the Guardian Saint Black Dragon?

MC: it’s really a dragon horn… the scales on your tail are so shiny! And wow.. Your clothes are satin. Did you make it yourself?

[stop it mc you’re embarrassing the both of us ;;]

Black Dragon: …

I didn’t expect that I would meet the Guardian saint, and my curiosity was overwhelming, so I forgot how fierce he was just now. Just when I wanted to study his hair again, he suddenly grabbed my hand and pressed me firmly into the shore.

Black Dragon: Have you touched enough?

MC: um…

Black Dragon: You are also a criminal..

I caught his dangerous gaze and swallowed nervously. His gaze moved down my face and finally stopped on the peach wood sword.

Black Dragon: Open the barrier again.

MC: What?

Black Dragon: Open it, and I can count it as you making up for just now.

I don’t know what the consequences of letting the Guardian saint leave without authorisation is, but I still obey what I feel in my heart and nod in agreement. The Black Dragon released his hold on me, but he kept his eyes on me as I walked away, as if he didn’t trust me to honour my promise.

MC: Lord Guardian, do you dislike humans?

Black Dragon: I just don’t trust them.

MC: hmm…. Humans can be very cunning. Someone did you a favour today, and you may be asked to return the favour later.

Black Dragon: ...What do you want to say?

I watched his expression and carefully considered my words.

MC: Now that I’ve promised to open the barrier, I will not break that promise. But, you’ve also seen the situation just now. If I go back like this, I definitely will not be able to keep this sword.

Black Dragon: Is it important to you?

MC: Yeah… My family has been slaying monsters for generations, and this sword is our heirloom. A while ago, the owner of the Jianzhu Workshop stole it. I took it back, but it seems that I’ll have to hide in the future.

Black Dragon: You come from a family that eliminates monsters, so why are you still afraid of them?

I recalled the exaggerated reaction just now, and chuckled embarrassedly.  

MC: Because in the ten years since you were locked away, the world has been very peaceful. We have become accustomed to a world without monsters.

MC: Suddenly seeing someone that’s so different from me, of course I’ll be shocked…

The Black Dragon raised his eyebrows without further comment.

MC: Why don’t we make an exchange! I will help you open the barrier, and you will help me settle the situation. This must not be difficult for you.

Black Dragon: This is the “favour” you want me to pay back?

MC: Yes. I will set the conditions right now as to raise the value in the future. This is an exchange where you can make profit without losing anything.

The Black Dragon was silent for a while, and finally nodded gently

Black Dragon: I can help you, but you must protect important things in the future. Additionally, I won’t help you a second time.

MC: I will! Thank you, Guardian Lord!

I took him down the path and into the city, brainstorming how to have him move around the city without obstacles.

MC: By the way, when we go into town, is it possible that you can hide the horns and tail?

Black Dragon: I can.

He lowered his eyes and blinked, and the dragon horns and tails disappeared.

MC: Ok…. I still need to know your name.

Black Dragon: You do not need to know.

MC: Then, how do you expect me to call you in the city? Are you still called the Guardian Saint?

Black Dragon: That’s not possible.

MC: Lord Black Dragon? Lord?

He frowned and stared at me, not seeming to like my options. I racked my brain to think of more titles, and he sighed, seeming to have come to a decision.

Black Dragon: My surname is Li.

--

In order to avoid the officers and soldiers who might reappear at any time, we were cautious all the way before finally returning home along the right path. However, just as I opened the door, the voice I didn’t want to hear sounded from behind me.

??: Yo, isn’t this that little robber? I didn’t expect to run into people not yet caught by the government today.

The owner of Jianzhu Workshop actually had a group of people wait by my house! I hurriedly hid the peach wood sword behind my back, and stepped forward to block the Black Dragon.

MC: You stole my things, and are so embarrassed that you want the government to arrest me?

Boss: No one saw me steal your things, but many people saw you steal things from my store. What are you going to do?

Most of the people behind him responded and began to surround me. I’m suddenly nervous and at a loss. But, then I see the Black Dragon standing beside me with his arms lifted slightly.

Those who came close seemed to hit an invisible wall, bumping one by one and falling backwards. No matter how many times they tried, they didn’t make any ground.

Boss: T-This is magic! You are monsters!

The group of people looked on at us in horror and kept backing away. The boss ushered them away disdainfully and drew his sword.

Boss: You turned out to have a monster as a helper, but don’t think that this will scare me!

After speaking, he flew forward and leaped, with the sharp tip of his sword barreling straight towards my face. I subconsciously closed my eyes, but the coolness of metal breaking through air did not come as expected.

I hesitated for a moment before slowly opening my eyes, and saw that the boss’s figure was stagnated in the air, and the tip of his sword had stopped less than three inches from my face. In the next second, he also bounced far away like his men had before him, and the sword fell on the ground with a crisp clang.

Boss: What kind of monster is this… cough cough… it’s so powerful.

I secretly glanced at the Black Dragon next to me. He still stood there quietly, as if he hadn’t paid attention to the scene just now.

The boss reluctantly stood up with his sword and walked towards us, but stopped halfway obediently under the gaze of the Black Dragon.

Boss: I can’t beat you anyway, so let’s be honest with each other. I want that sword to conquer the Black Dragon. You should have heard that legend, right? The peach wood sword that has eliminated a demon -- as long as it’s stained with the blood of the Guardian Saint, he will surrender to me.

Boss: Now that the sword is in your hands, as long as you agree to cooperate with me, I can give you a share of the reward as compensation.

MC: It’s too vain to do that!

Boss: Mankind has been eliminating demons for many years, isn’t this point of return justified?

The surrounding temperature seemed to drop suddenly, and I held my sword tighter.

MC: Don’t even think about it. Xiao Li, don’t listen to his nonsense. Let’s tie him up and send him to the government!

I yelled this with a strong momentum, but the fingers hidden under my sleeve secretly hooked onto the Black Dragon’s hand and shook, hoping that he would not mind the disrespectful name. He glanced at me unhappily, but still moved his fingers, making the owner unable to escape.

Seeing some onlookers appeared nearby, I pulled the Black Dragon back, wanting to end this farce as soon as possible.

MC: Everyone is watching. If you still want to keep the Jianzhu Workshop in business, you should move on quickly and forget the ideas you shouldn’t have.

Boss: ….

MC: If you don’t speak, I’ll assume that you agree.

Black Dragon: He is speechless now.

I was stunned for a moment, looking at the flushing boss. But I looked at the Black Dragon and suddenly understood. So, I cleared my throat and deliberately amplified the sound.

MC: Now that you’ve realised your mistakes, go to the government and confess your guilt honestly. As long as you are willing to tell the truth this time, I will not care too much. I believe that the government will give us a fair verdict.

--

After testifying with the government, I locked the door of my house and lit a fire in the corner of the yard. Since the Black Dragon was trapped behind the barrier here, many legends that do not tell the truth have emerged, gradually ranging from spreading his divine power to how to conquer him.

Many seniors believed that the peach wood sword would be abused by people with ulterior motives, so they wanted to destroy the sword. But, it used to be a glory in the family and it was a relic of my father’s. I have always cherished it very much and am not willing to destroy it.  

Until now, I have not really realised how disturbing its existence is.

The wooden sword was thrown into the flame, and the flame seemed to have received my worry, and quickly rose to swallow it. I waited until the flame went out and I doused the embers before returning to the house.

The Black Dragon was not there, and the window facing the black dragon was open. I hurried to the window and heard a little noise coming from the pond.

As soon as I slipped out, I saw the Black Dragon immersed in the pond water, seeming to be examining his own strength. The water around him seemed to diverge and gather, but only for a moment before it suddenly fell back into the pool, revealing his figure. He leaned casually on the bank, his slender fingers outstretched slightly.

The falling flowers on the water floated back onto the shore, embossed under the roots of the trees. The hanging water curtain not far away turned into layers of mist with his simple instruction, and fell onto the other branches with a crisp rustling noise.

For a while, I so surprised that I could hear nothing but the beating of my own heart in my chest.

This is… the strength that has always protected us.

In some kind of broad tenderness, this casual moment silenced the whole world.

He has a small wound on his body that is slowly bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to care. At this time, he had long faded away from his initial vigilance and suspicion, as if he had just found a comfortable place to nurse his fatigue.

Looking at this scene, I suddenly thought that if I had looked at his eyes more when we first met, I definitely wouldn’t have misunderstood his identity. Such a clear and quiet gaze could only belong to a truly powerful being.

Black Dragon: Don’t hide, come out.

MC: Sorry, I didn’t mean to peek on purpose… I thought you were gone.

Black Dragon: I am indeed ready to leave.

Hearing him say this, I felt a little reluctant.

Black Dragon: But I still have a question for you.

MC: What’s the problem?

Black Dragon: Why did you reject that person just now?

I was stunned for a moment, and then realised what he was referring to.

MC: ...The person stealing other people’s things is not credible, and I’m not interested in the conditions he offered. What’s more, is that the sword in my family has been used for generations to eliminate evil, and it cannot hurt a Guardian Saint who brings peace.

I couldn’t help but glance at his wound, and found a handkerchief in my pocket and handed it over.

MC: Why are you hurt?

He turned away slightly, his expression a little unnatural.

Black Dragon: The yard is too small and there are too many trees.

I looked at the small branches scattered around the pond and smirked internally. Naturally, this place can’t be compared with the vast forest. He obviously hasn’t adapted to the new area yet.

MC: Your blood seems to be very important, so wait for me to help you bandage it.

The Black Dragon looked at me, smiled lightly, and grabbed my wrist.

Black Dragon: The legend of the peach sword is false.

MC: What?

Black Dragon: Do you really want to hear more about it?

Looking into his smiling eyes, I almost lost my consciousness and nodded subconsciously. With a little force in his hand, he drew me closer, and the low voice sounded through my ears.

Black Dragon: The conditions that make me surrender never come from other things.

Black Dragon: You asked my name before. Do you know its true meaning?

--

Black Dragon: No way.

MC: I’m really fine!

Black Dragon: If I say no, it means no.

MC: But there is no other way. You’re a guest and a noble Guardian saint, I can't possibly let you sleep on the ground, right?

Black Dragon: …

Considering that the Guardian Saint was injured in my home, I warmly invited him to stay overnight, and he gave me the chance “to make up for the past”. I had taken the initiative to bandage the wound and make dinner for him, but after a smooth night, I suddenly hit a wall in sleeping.

I forgot that my cabin has limited space and only one bed. So, I was going to sleep on the floor, but he didn’t allow it. I had forgotten about the possibility of sleeping in the same bed, so, after thinking about it, I carried the quilt on the ground onto the bed.

Ignoring his surprised gaze, I first climbed into the innermost side of the bed, turned my back to him and patted the empty space behind me.

MC: If nothing else, I sleep very soundly!

I eavesdropped on the man behind me, and after a long silence, I finally heard the sound of the quilt being lifted once again.

The night was still deep, but we laid still for a long time. I still couldn’t sleep. Though, I still remember what he said to me by the pond--

Black Dragon: Names are a curse.

MC: Lord Guardian, are you asleep?

Black Dragon: ...Not yet.

MC: I have a question. Since the name is a kind of curse, many people usually call me, so why didn’t I feel it?

Black Dragon: Because you are all ordinary people.

MC: Is that right…

My curiosity flared up again.

MC: Lord Guardian, my name is ___. Since I am called ordinary, can I ask the unusual Guardian saint to recite it?

I waited for a long time, and the person behind me didn’t respond, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge my whim. I was beginning to grow restless, so I tightened the quilt corner and leaned against the bed.

Black Dragon: Li Zeyan.

MC: ...What?

Li Zeyan: My name. Go to bed now and you’ll still remember it.

MC: !

MC: Did you really just tell me that? Is it okay to?

Li Zeyan: ...If you dare not accept it, I can make you forget now.

MC: Wait, wait! I accept! But, if this isn’t a mantra, does it matter if i recite it?

Li Zeyan: You can give it a try.

MC: ..Li Zeyan

Li Zeyan: Good.

Li Zeyan responded reluctantly and put out the candle. I waited for a while, and it was quiet behind me, as if nothing happened. I’ve been so overwhelmed by the excitement of knowing his name that even in the dark, I'm not willing to close my eyes.

MC: Li Zeyan?

My answer was another stretch of silence.

I grabbed the quilt, and an uncontrollable impulse that could no longer be subdued was relieved through the curling of my lips. So, my brain began whirring and three words suddenly came out.

[she says three words because Victor’s chinese name, Li Zeyan, is characterised like this: 李泽言]

MC: Li Zeyan.

As soon as I was finished speaking, I felt that the bed next to me suddenly sank, my shoulder was caught, and I was pulled over. Before I could even utter an exclamation, I met Li Zeyan’s close face.

Li Zeyan: What are you trying to do?

It seems that every time I get close to him, I can’t think, I can only let the thoughts in my head slip to my lips.

MC: I just think your name sounds nice. I wanted to say again.

Li Zeyan seemed to be taken aback, and his hand holding me loosened.

Li Zeyan: Have you said it enough now? Shut up and sleep when you’ve had enough.

MC: But, I still want to hear you say my name. You know, everything must be exchanged in the human world, and I will sleep only when you say it.

Li Zeyan had probably never heard of such a request before and stopped talking, seeming to be judging if I was joking or not. Seeing that I still met his gaze firmly, he spoke word from word after all.

Li Zeyan: ___.

MC: !

I immediately covered my face, detached from his arm, and retreated to the other side of the bed.

MC: I-I promise to stop talking! I’ll sleep now!

Li Zeyan: ……

However, even when the room was quiet again, my noisy heartbeat did not calm down. Is this the so-called “curse”? This curse is really powerful. No no, it’s the “unusual” Guardian saint that is the most powerful.

I sigh quietly. It seems that I won’t be able to sleep tonight.

The next day, I woke up amidst a strange noise. I opened the window and looked out at the situation on the street. After recalling the day, I remembered that the Qixi festival has arrived.

I turned my head and looked at the other side of the bed: it was empty.

I quickly cleaned myself up and opened the door. I saw Li Zeyan leaning against the door and looking in the direction of the main street.

MC: Good morning.... Li Zeyan.

Li Zeyan glanced at me, and nodded stiffly to communicate a response.

Li Zeyan: Why is it so noisy outside?

I looked at the hint of curiosity in his eyes and suggested with a smile.

MC: If you’re interested, do you wanna go out with me?

The Qixi Festival has always been the most lively summer festival. Stalls have been set up early on the main street to sell all kinds of novel and interesting gadgets. I chose a booth at random and took him over to see it.

MC: Look, it’s a black dragon puppet!

The puppet was dressed in a colorful cloak, and the dragon’s horns and tail were swollen with cotton. I snuck a look at Li Zeyan, and he immediately frowned in disgust.

Li Zeyan: Too exaggerated. There’s no need to look like that.

MC: But it looks so cute!

Li Zeyan: ...Do you like it?

I was thinking about how to respond to the Guardian saint’s question, when the stall owner leaned over with a smile.

Stall Owner: The girl has a good eye! I bought this black dragon puppet from a temple of incense. Buying it back will surely protect both of you. For today’s holiday, if you each buy one, the price is discounted! Son, what do you think?

Li Zeyan: I don’t need it.

I took a peek at him, smiled and put down the puppet, then raised my arm and shook it indifferently.

MC: I don’t need it either. 

I have been favoured by fate, so I can at least leave the puppets to others.

I don’t know if it’s my illusion, but Li Zeyan seemed to slow down and walk with me patiently. I guess he must have rarely had such a talkative moment during the long years he spent in the forest.

I secretly made up my mind to take him today to experience the “world fireworks”.

[it was never explicitly stated, but I’m guessing that this refers to the tradition of kongming lanterns mentioned soon.]

In the long main streets, through countless shops and stalls, we stop and try our best to spend this special day seriously. I imagined the Guardian saint who was aloof, but I was so entranced that I didn’t even dare blink my eyes, and together we studied the mysteries of the street performers

He still occasionally resents helplessness, but unexpectedly does not refuse assistance. Perhaps because of the smoke and fire, I almost forgot his original identity.

Time passed by, and the end of the main street was already in front of me. A small river transverses, and there are already many people piercing Kongming lanterns on both sides of the river

Li Zeyan: What’s the purpose of this?

MC: It’s a paper lantern to make wishes on. It rises into the sky after you light the inside of it. People write their wishes on the lamps, and the gods in sky will see it and may even help realise it. 

Li Zeyan: How can there be such a thing?

MC: Today is the Qixi Festival, you can’t say such things! If it’s heard by the seventh sister in the sky, it will be bad.

Li Zeyan: ...what wishes do you generally make?

MC: On the Qixi Festival, everyone will wish for a good hand or a good marriage.

Li Zeyan: what about you?

MC: I…

I looked at a few pairs of lovers not too far away, and silently lowered my head. If you desire too much, than what’s the difference between me and those who want to imprison the Guardian saint?

But, perceiving Li Zeyan’s gaze on me, I cheered up and decided to answer the question in another way.

MC: Right, tonight, I want to see the stars, so I’ll take you to a good place to see them!

The pavilion at the foot of the mountain is part of a summer resort that I accidentally discovered when I was young. Now that the area is kept dense, the water is as clear as a mirror. The mountain breeze in the evening is very cool, blowing away all the heat of the day.

Li Zeyan leaned in the pavilion, looking at the distance with a relaxed expression.

MC: Is the Guardian Saint satisfied with this place?

Li Zeyan: well, it’s not bad.

MC: No one else will come here, so you can relax.

Li Zeyan seemed to have seen through the words as I was expecting, and showed a pair of beautiful dragon horns and a tail.

MC: I wanted to say it the first time I saw you, but, you’re really good looking.

Li Zeyan: In your imagination, was I ugly?

MC: Um… I was only expecting you to be more fierce.

Li Zeyan: And i did not expect that the one to open the barrier would be a reckless “bandit”.

I turned my head angrily, but I saw the smile at the corner of his mouth at a glance, and the feeling of dissatisfaction disappeared immediately.

I handed Li Zeyan a small purse I'd been holding in my arms.

MC: Just in case, I decided to prepare you something.

Li Zeyan took it and opened it, holding up a small peach wood sword pendant.

MC: Even though it’s small, it has the same effect as the original sword!

Li Zeyan: ...Didn’t you burn the sword?

MC: I secretly broke off a piece of the hilt of the sword, I think my father would not mind. But, if you ever encounter the barrier in the future, you can walk out by yourself.

Li Zeyan: “Self?” Where are you going?

MC: You definitely don’t want to stay in this world, do you? I couldn’t even go to heaven with you.

Li Zeyan: You don’t have to go so far. The freedom I want has nothing to do with where I am.

MC: But, you said yesterday that you were ready to leave… Are you going to another town?

Li Zeyan looked at the pendant and pondered a moment before speaking.

Li Zeyan: The forest is very large… but it’s not as good as a small yard.

Li Zeyan: No matter whether it is man or a god, there are no taboos, but it depends on whether that restriction is actively being accepted by itself. The spell of that name is a lock, and only those who know it can open it.

Li Zeyan: Just now, I've put the lock and key into your hands. So, I must keep you by my side.

I stared at him with a serious look, and it took a long time to find my voice.

MC: My home is so small... You will either get hurt or you will not sleep well...

MC:  I can’t accompany you to heaven, but I can go with you anywhere else in the world. Because you know my name, I also want to keep you by my side.

He laughed at me, hooked his finger at me, and I leaned in faintly.

Li Zeyan: In this case, I’ll leave this on you.

With warm fingertips around my neck, he put the pendant on me. I stretched out my hand to caress the small pendant, and my heart was filled with wonder. I have no supernatural power, nor have I learned to kill demons and eliminate evil. Only this little peach wood sword and myself, who keeps the secret, will become his keys together.

I pulled out a comb from the side drawer and handed it to him.

MC: According to human rules, to make such an important agreement, you have to help me comb my hair.

Li Zeyan hesitated and took the comb suspiciously.

Li Zeyan: I have never brushed anyone’s hair before…

MC: You will live in this world in the future, so you can learn more.

Li Zeyan: Why are there so many rules?

MC: This is how humans are.

In order to reduce the difficulty, I took the initiative to lift up a strand of hair

MC: Comb this strand, and it will be done after three times.

Li Zeyan: Why?

I held back my smile and tried to find excuses for my careful thinking.

MC: Hmm… Because this way, the agreement will last longer.

A helpless sigh was heard from behind me, but he still continued. The movements were very slow and light, and he took care to not hurt me at all. Time seemed to stop in this moment, and at the same time, lovers of heaven and earth meet.

I leaned on his lap and peaked at the reflection in the water: he’s clearly smiling.

As the night darkened, a Kongming lantern suddenly floated in the distance. Orange lights gradually revealed themselves in the night sky, like stars symbolising wishes.

MC: What a nice view...

Li Zeyan retracted his eyes from the sky and looked at me.

Li Zeyan: I remember that you haven’t said your wish.

I stroked his hand holding the comb and combed the hair to the bottom with him.

“Three combs to the end, will tie two hearts together forever.”

The night breeze is cool, bringing the wishes of the world to the sky. And there is still a wish, turning into a quiet whisper before falling into someone’s ear. The person who receives this wish is my destination.

[mythgirlimagines]

The latest in a line of therapeutic robotic assistants, here is the latest in her lineage, in the circuits and metal herself: MY-3, the Former Ultimate Robot!

——————-————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT 

MY-3 (nicknamed “Mythie”, and eventually “Myth) was the third and most recent creation created by a pair of robotic engineering geniuses. MY-3 was created to  become a therapeutic robot, with her adorable appearance, personality, and voice, that makes her a massive success with both children, and even many adults, who find MY-3’s various adorable qualities to be calming and soothing. Many functions, such as a built-in oven, and a built-in musical speaker and TV, can offer different coping mechanisms, for all sorts of patients. All of those qualities resulted in a massive recovery success rate at the mental treatment facility that she currently works at, when not attending Hope’s Peak and learning more about humans and their behaviors. There otherwise isn’t that much backstory on MY-3, for she was only created about 3 or 4 years ago. Myth is currently working in Ward #137, helping Anons recover mentally from anxiety attacks and/or assorted mental trauma, and this story would center on Myth helping these Anons through their mental pain and trauma. 

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Entomologist

Wyre’s parents and Myth’s parents have been scientific business partners for a long time, and regularly collaborate on many projects together, namely studying bugs, in order to figure out how their robotic bugs are supposed to move. Despite Wyre’s rough demeanor and equally as dirty and gritty talent, Myth can’t deny that Wyre was only the bestest friend that she could ever ask for. As long as Wyre’s insects didn’t make their way into her circuits, Myth always found the various insects Wyre brings over to her fascinating. But for now, many of the now-fragile patients would rather not witness their much-cherished insect companions, much to the entomologist’s anger and dismay.

Outfit: A tan safari outfit with a red tie and an off-white pith helmet, off-white socks and brown shoes, regularly carries a butterfly net, the glasses from their original design.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Aikido Master 

Growing up with severe emotional and self-esteem issues, Scar’s parents sent her off to a temple and had an old master teach her all about using aikido (or the Art of the Demons, as the old master called it) to maintain emotional control. Scar’s skill in aikido gave her both something to be proud of and something to control her overflowing emotions. Unfortunately, her old master eventually passed away, and she more-or-less regressed into her old pre-aikido behavior. MY-3‘s tranquil presence and reassuring words regularly calmed the aikido master down, during her emotional highs, and allowed her true maternal side to show, especially when it came to teaching younger Anons about aikido.

Outfit: Hair in a ponytail held by a purple bow, a black coat slung over her shoulders like a cape over a white robe with purple hakama pants, bandaged arms, white ankle socks.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Pianist

Revered by many classical music enthusiasts for being a piano-playing prodigy ever since he was a little boy, no one can deny that Fusion is both passionate in playing the piano and composing his own piano music. Unfortunately, the stress that came from being a musical wunderkind and his strict and overbearing parents repeatedly entering him in contests and forcing him to practice endlessly, in order to win prize money, caused Fusion to suffer a mental breakdown on stage, and, in humiliation and shame, ran away to never play on stage again. Fusion loves to teach those willing to learn about music, but Myth couldn’t help but detect pain hidden by that cheery and food-stuffed grin.

Outfit: A blue jacket with golden music note shaped buttons and black and white stripes on the sleeves, over a red hoodie, black and white fingerless gloves, yellow and blue headphones around his neck, glasses, pants, and shoes from his original design.

Fusion II, Ultimate Detective

Born to a police commissioner father and a criminal prosecutor mother, Fusion II always wanted to pursue a career in justice, and managed to get her wish, when she became a prodigy detective in her preteen years. Unfortunately, in her first major murder case (which she managed to solve in under a day), when she managed to expose the culprit, the insane and enraged culprit pulled out a knife and gouged one of Fusion II’s eyes out, which gave her severe trauma, and encouraged her to never pursue another murder case again. While Fusion II‘s knowledge on memes helps educate MY-3 on human internet culture, it’s clear to MY-3 that her sarcasm and meme references are hiding some severe past pain.

Outfit: A black and blue fedora, a black eyepatch that hides her gouged-out eye, a blue trench coat over a white button up shirt and a red necktie, black gloves, a black and blue skirt, long white socks and black heeled boots.

Just Anon, Ultimate Tennis Pro

Similar to Fusion, Janon is a prodigy that is well-renowned by both his adoring fans from his highly-prestigious private boarding school and tennis enthusiasts everywhere. Being raised to uphold his family’s legacy, ever since he was a toddler, Janon wants nothing more than to leave his family and actually get a chance to relax between etiquette lessons and constant tennis matches that come with autograph sessions. Janon’s cramped schedules eventually lead to burn-out and mental roadblock, earning him a spot in the ward. MY-3‘s overly affectionate attitude definitely rubbed the athlete the wrong way, and would much rather either take a long nap or dote on the Jr. Ultimates.

Outfit: The bunny hoodie and mask from his original design over a pink and blue tennis uniform.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Supreme Leader

With a love for the histrionics and a 30-person group at her fingertips, Sparkle doesn’t seem to like divulging into the specifics of her talent, for all she was willing to reveal about her organisation was that it, “SEEKS TO MAKE SHINING DIAMONDS OUT OF INSIGNIFICANT LUMPS OF COAL“. Ever since this theatrical self-proclaimed dictator arrived at the ward, she’s been trying to get people to join her group. Not even MY-3 seems to know what Sparkle is even doing at this ward, for she wasn’t scheduled for this (or any, for that matter) wards at the psychological ward. But that doesn’t mean MY-3 wouldn’t try to crack the rhinestone-covered enigma that is Supreme Leader Sparkle.

Outfit: A pink sparkly captain’s cap, hair in a sideplait, a blue suit and matching pants, a rainbow colored necktie, the cape and boots from her original design, always carries her sceptre.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Cosplayer/Assassin, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Magician

The genius combination of the twin’s talents, with Wet Sock‘s brilliant magic shows and Egg’s ability to disguise themselves and blend in with the crowd, allows Egg’s true talent to shine and Egg to shank their targets from the shadows. They also regularly pull the classic “twin switch” in both their operations and their prison escapes, and nobody could even tell the difference. It’s very clear that their parentless and tragic lives on the streets took a toll on their psyche, and once the cops found the twins, they hauled them over to the ward and left them in the care of the therapists and MY-3. Egg and Wet Sock always love to mess with MY-3 and her functions, but they’re secretly thankful for her help.

Both Outfits: Standard stage magician tuxedo, cape, and hat.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Inventor

Born and raised in a war-torn territory and underneath a cruel and exploitative government, upon finding out their gift in mechanics and coming up with plans, Curious was raised to be both an inventor and a test subject for said inventions, and Curious, being the passive soul that they are, never stood up against the cruel government that they lived under, even after the constant experiments gave them both physical and mental scars. Eventually, after the war ceased, somebody found Curious, and hauled them off to the psych ward. Curious’s kind and passive nature made them really great friend with the equally kind robot, but MY-3 knew that no one can handle what was thrown at the inventor, without consequences.

Outfit: Sickly green skin with stitches and scars all over their body and bolts in their neck, an off-white jumpsuit with black and yellow gloves, and matching boots and goggles, long messy hair.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Butler

In order to step above all of the other more desirable kids residing in the orphanage alongside him, young Nerd quickly practiced crafts of cleanliness and order (namely cooking and cleaning living spaces). Eventually, those skills managed to get him picked up by a family that only uses him as a personal butler (and occasional bodyguard, why else would a butler carry around a volatile scouter, and a temper twice as large?), and never as their actual child. Eventually, after shouldering their abuse into his adult years, Nerd snapped and set fire to the mansion with his scouter, earning him a spot in the ward’s roster. MY-3 considers Nerd to be one of the tougher cookies to crack, due to his temper.

Outfit: Literally the exact same outfit but with gloves and longer coattails.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Artist

Desperately yearning for the “sheep” of the world to ”wake up”, Eldritch channels his pessimistic and paranoid mindset into traditional art (never digital, he doesn’t want to contribute to the robot uprising), and wants everyone who views his artwork (detailing apocalyptic settings and themes of distrust, misanthropy, and all the secretly-disgusting citizens of the world) to frown and spread scowls and distrust amongst the general population. Concerned about his paranoia, Eldritch’s parents sent him off to the ward, to many protests from the tiny artist. Eldritch hates MY-3‘s metallic guts, and always tries to destroy her, before she becomes the leader of the machine uprising.

Outfit: A paint splattered version of his hoodie over a black shirt with a creepy white face design on the front, brown overalls, and yellow and black rainboots.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Anthropologist

Expressing a love of humanity and the varied cultures of them, Dream travels all over the world with grit and determination to learn more about this particular interest of hers. Despite coming off to others as a ditzy jock, Dream is actually a respected figure in the field of anthropology and her anthropology journals are well-known by all in the field. Unfortunately, the reckless anthropologist stumbled into uncharted territory, one day, and got attacked by the territorial natives. It took her several days before her fellow explorers found her again, but the damage has already been done, both physically and mentally. Dream likes to claim she’s fine, but MY-3’s lie detector can see right through Dream.

Outfit: Hair that looks awkwardly lobbed off and scars all across her face and body, a pink cardigan over a tan button-up shirt, a dark brown skirt, black leggings, dark brown Uggs, the sidebag from her original design.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Adventurer

Not wanted to stay confided in a stuffy orphanage forever, Iris packed a simple backpack, and set off on a world tour, to see all of the fascinating and exotic things that the world has to offer. Despite being a preteen (and a really clumsy one, at that), the sheer reach that Iris had in her travels and her contagious optimism, she has garnered fame all over the world, and gave her the title of Ultimate Adventurer. Iris loves going to hospitals and psych wards and tell stories about her travels, and Ward #137 is definitely no exception. MY-3 loves learning about humans from around the world, but considering Iris’s past, MY-3 can’t help but feel like part of Iris’s optimism is all a facade.

Outfit: Hair cut to her shoulders, a brown leather parka with off-white fluff over a blue tanktop, bright pink pants and glow-in-the-dark sneakers, bandages all over her body, the glasses from her original design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Astronaut

Raised by two influential pioneers of the scientific industry, Purple showed a promising career as an astronaut, for both her massive knowledge in astronomy and cosmology for someone of her age, and her oddly sturdy body that can take on the hideous vacuum of space, makes her the prime candidate for becoming astronaut. Unfortunately, despite aceing the astronaut exams, various technical difficulties with the spacecraft that she boarded ended up causing both the spacecraft and Purple’s hopes and dreams to crash and burn. Purple’s heavily scientific terms don’t detour the kindly robot from befriending the timid and solemn astronaut, or helping said astronaut to cope with depression and survivor’s guilt.

Outfit: Some hair held up in a small sidetail with a star hairclip, a black overcoat with white star-shaped buttons over a purple sweater, a black skirt with small white dots on them, grey stockings and black Mary Janes.

Getting things out of the way, this non-Kibo-Con AU is far more angsty and hurt-comfort, compared to the standard talentswap AU, for just about everybody has trauma of varying degrees. ——————————————————-

PERSONALITY

Despite her relatively seasoned (read: 4 years old) AI, MY-3 still shows a childlike fascination for humans and how different they are from her, and the eyes on her screen simply sparkle, when she learns more and more about the inner machinations of the very people that created her. Because she is supposed to be a therapeutic robot, MY-3 is determined to use whatever functions she can, to get her patients to open up to her, and finding the root of their problems. So far, MY-3’s therapy was shown to have positive results for just about every client that she interacted with, which proves that she has empathy and understanding of humans way beyond any other robot of her time period, including MY-1 and MY-2.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE

MY-3 has a screen for a face that has different emoticons for different emotions, and a pink and white chassis. MY-3 has brown synthetic hairs dyed purple at the ends and an ahoge that functions much like a satellite dish. Instead of hands and arms, MY-3 has extendable arms with pink oven mitts on the end of them. As for clothes, MY-3 wears simple blue overalls and a bi pride bandana around her neck, with purple and blue rain boots on her feet.

——————————————————-

I’m sorry for all the trauma and angst I put on you, but I hope you like this AU! I’d love to hear what you think about this AU!

-Fusion Anon

[theciaisdumbbutdangerous]

Why I think the CIA is behind cow mutilations

Okay. So.

Hear me the fuck out here. 

So Quinton Reviews did a video a few years back about how the US government falsified documents and information to trick UFO conspiracy theorists into spreading misinformation on government programs to hide the actual shit they were doing. 

Basically, this dude who lived near an army base started seeing lights in the sky and started receiving weird cryptic messages on his radio and so he started taking photos and recording the radio broadcasts and then he took them to some military fuckers and they were shocked because the stuff the dude recorded was like secret military shit like planes that flew higher than radar could detect and shit and they were scared because that’s top secret shit but then the dude said “Hey, these are fucking aliens” and then the military bastards were like “Yep”. So they got this one neck-bearded sci-fi writer dude who worked for the Air Force to start creating false documents to give to the UFO conspiracy theorist fucker so he can write a book about it and it’ll be easier for the government to do shit because it’ll be blamed on aliens. 

Basically, they gaslit a dude to hide secret weaponry and air craft testing. 

ANYWAYS

So that story got me thinking about things that are blamed on aliens that could be chalked up to the US government doing military shit because the US is a fucking dystopian nightmare. 

And then a video by EXPLORE WITH US popped up in my subscription feed about some recent cow mutilations in Oregon. 

And so my fucking brain juices went a squirting and something like clicked in me. 

What if, and hear me the fuck out, the cattle mutilations that have been taking place for the past few decades are the result of the CIA testing out ways and means of creating artificial famines or economic disparities on countries that heavily rely on livestock through either farming or consumption. 

A prime example is a country like Cuba (who have been historically terrorized by the US). They rely heavily on livestock in both farming (since they don’t have much oil to power tractors, they use cows and horses to pull plows) and they eat and drink A LOT of dairy products. 

The top three countries with the most livestock in the world are India, Brazil and China. All three are definitely being closely monitored by the US government (well so are all countries but you catch my drift) so it wouldn’t be surprising that the US are using their almost one trillion dollar military budget to do decades long experiments into proper ways to cripple other country’s food resources and economies secretly. 

But there’s one more thing.

THE CIA HAS OPENLY ADMITTED TO DOING SOMETHING VERY SIMILAR BEFORE.

During the Cold War in the Phillipines when Communist rebels started gaining more traction, the CIA FAKED A VAMPIRE ATTACK by killing a Hukbalahap rebel, DRAINED HIS BLOOD and threw his body onto a pathway near a rebel base to basically scare away other rebels from that base. 

So if they’re willing to, ya know, drain the blood from human beings it isn’t too much of a stretch that they’d try the same things on innocent animals. 

I’m not the first person to throw this idea out there but like. It’s so fucking obvious it’s insane. 

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 3

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter 3: Of Speculation and Anticipation

Summary: “In fifteen minutes we will hear from the Prime Minister with more information about the First Order and what we as citizens are expected to do. Please stay tuned to CBC News for updates.” And “Tonight at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time First Order Supreme Leader Ren will address the public for the second time.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You arrive home and park in your building’s ramp. You see Carter pulling into the guest parking zone. You wait for them.

“Want to order something for lunch,” asked Carter.

“Sure, does curry sound alright,” you asked. Carter nodded and you both headed into your building.

You both took the stairs up to your floor and you unlocked your door. Both of you took off your shoes and you pulled out your phone to do your usual curry order

“So this thing with the First Order. What do you think? How many people are out there,” Asked Carter.

“I don’t know what to think. This all feels like some weird Sci-Fi movie. Why is this the first time we have been contacted by some sort of ‘alien’ race? This is just weird,” you responded. You pulled out your laptop and set it up on your small kitchen table. You set up a live feed to the CBC News broadcast and plugged your laptop in.

“What if they are really peaceful and don’t mean any harm. You heard that man, the Supreme Leader I think that’s what he’s called, as long as we follow orders we should be fine,” responded Carter.

Suddenly you both get a text in your group chat from Hayden asking, ‘What’s up with this alien invasion thing 👽? Spooky 👻’

“Should we invite him over,” asked Carter.

“Yeah, let’s see if I can add to the lunch order,” you responded while Carter texted Hayden back.

“Damn it, it won’t let me. Let me check if I have any salad or anything to go with it,” you told Carter.

“Why don’t I text Hayden that if he plans on coming over now he needs to bring something,” asked Carter.

You nodded with approval. Although Carter texted Hayden separately he is always the type to respond in the group chat. ‘Coolio, I’ll pick up some drinks and chips and hummus 😂’

“Why he does that I’ll never understand,” you stated. Carter nodded in agreement.

The live stream on your laptop flashed so you unmuted it.

Live from Ottawa

“In fifteen minutes we will hear from the Prime Minister with more information about the First Order and what we as citizens are expected to do. Please stay tuned to CBC News for updates,” said the blond anchorwoman. You turned down the volume on your laptop to a background noise level.

“Dang. Hopefully, he has more information as to who they are. I have been checking the government website all day and no one really has anything. Their Supreme Leader is a total mystery,” said Carter.

You both then went to minding your phones. You scrolled through twitter. Everyone was talking about #alieninvasiondc and #firstorder. No one had any real news, just speculation from what you could see. Ironically the #raidarea51 tag was trending again talking about how this is what the U.S. government was hiding.

There was a knock on your door. You went to open it. The delivery person was there with your food. You paid him and he went on his way. Almost immediately after you shut the door there was another knock. Hayden this time with the drinks and chips and hummus.

He walks in without taking off his shoes and said, “aliens man who would have thunk.”

“Take off your damn shoes I don’t know how time I have to tell you,” you scolded Hayden who made his way back to the door.

“Ok jeez it’s not like your apartment is huge. It won’t take long to clean it,” Hayden responded.

Carter just rolled their eyes at the two of you. Hayden was the more relaxed, and slobby of the three of you. You were more type A, where everything had a place and you like things just so. He was definitely the extrovert of the group, someone who could have a 3-hour long conversation with a bartender about their life. Meanwhile, you were more of an introvert. Carter was the perfect balance for you two. Ever the optimist but an ambivert none the less.

Hayden loved conspiracy theories. Always talking about a new one here or there. He was the least adult out of the three of you. You had your habits and the way you liked things. Being a minimalist you liked the things you liked the way you liked them. You needed to be efficient and precise in order to survive your home and work life.

“My apartment may be small, but if it bothers you why is it that we always end up here, hmm?” You responded sarcastically.

Hayden just shrugged and went about preparing himself a plate of curry, rice hummus and chips while grabbing a cider from the six-pack he brought.

“I don’t know if you heard but the Prime Minister will be speaking in a few minutes, hopefully with more information on this First Order stuff,” said Carter trying to distract you two from your usual petty disagreements.

Carter was the glue to your friendship. The rock to keep you three together. Despite Hayden’s extroversion, there were still some prejudices against the unmatched. He could easily find someone to go home with after a night at the bars but had a hard time making lasting friendships until he found Carter.

“Cool, love seeing my man Trudeau,” said Hayden.

Just now your laptop screen flashed with the news report. You turned up the volume.

Live from Ottawa

The Prime Minister started to speak, “as you all know yesterday there was a visit to Earth by a then-unknown group who we now know to be the First Order. Earlier this morning the U.S. President spoke to everyone on behalf of the United Nations. I myself and many others are in agreement that the First Order have come here in peace. I ask everyone in Canada to act peacefully and follow all instructions that you may receive from the government or the First Order.

You will be able to register at all public government offices like the housing department, the post office, the motor vehicle registration office, the social insurance number office, the immigration office and more. In the upper parts of provinces and in major cities there will be temporary registration stations. Please check the government website canada.ca to find any more places to register.

We ask that all citizens of Earth remain calm and proceed to be registered. Earlier the President said that citizens may be reassigned to duties within the First Order. This will only happen with your consent and only to positions, the First Order may need. You also may have the choice to temporarily be reassigned to help with registration.

The First Order will also be removing all standard currency and will be shifting all current wealth into the galaxy’s credit system or galactic credit. No citizen will lose any portion of their wealth and all physical currency will be able to be exchanged at any bank, credit union, or any government office and all digital currency or any currency currently kept at a bank or credit union will be converted automatically. This will happen 3 days after the trade deadline. By the end of the month, Earth will join the galactic trade economy and will be able to set up trade with any planet within the First Order rule.

Tonight at 7 PM Eastern Standard Time First Order Supreme Leader Ren will address the public for the second time. It is important that all citizens tune into the news and all employers are mandated to allow all employees the opportunity to watch or listen to Supreme Leader Ren’s speech. Thank you.”

All three of you sat stunned looking at the laptop. Carter was the first to speak.

“Is he human, Supreme Leader Ren I mean? You saw that helmet thing I wonder what's under there” asked Carter.

“I don’t know maybe he’s got like a tentacle face like Davey Jones did from that Pirates of the Caribbean movie. What do you think Y/N,” asked Hayden.

“You both say the videos of last night’s landing right? There was a ginger man with them, maybe they are human, but there is probably some sort of mix within their ranks. You’ve both seen Star Trek and other Sci-Fi movies. There is a possibility all of the First Order with helmets are some other species. Maybe they brought that ginger man to calm us all down so we don’t have an alien vs predator thing,” you said.

Both Carter and Hayden seemed to nod in agreement. For a little bit, you all went about eating your food.

“Hey, this might be one of my crazy theories but what if your guys’ matches are some weird alien species,” said Hayden. “Like think how cool that would be!”

“I will love whoever or whatever they are. The universe thought it was important enough to put their name on my wrist so that is all I care about,” said Carter continuing to eat.

You just simply looked down at the names on your wrist. You secretly hoped that Kylo/Ben wasn’t going to be disgusted at you being human.

[zrtranscripts]

Radio Abel, Season Eight

Part 4 of 5

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello ci-ti-zens! Welcome back to Radio New Hope.

ZOE CRICK: This is a very special edition of our show, listeners.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right, Zoe! [laughs] It's our first broadcast since Fort Canton became the seat of the UK government. We’re only a few feet away from the office of the prime minister, Amelia Spens. [sighs] Prime Minister Amelia Spens. [laughs] How did this happen again?

ZOE CRICK: There's never any one factor that determines who rises to power, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, for the benefit of any listeners not up to date with current affairs, uh, can we list the -

ZOE CRICK: An understandable predicament, given the post-apocalyptic demise of the 24-hour news cycle.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - can we list the factors that led to Amelia's appointment?

ZOE CRICK: Opportunism...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: ... And?

ZOE CRICK: I'm thinking.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought you said there was never any one factor.

ZOE CRICK: You know, I think Amelia's a special case. Most world leaders aspire to the job, for better or worse, but Amelia only ever wants what's best for Amelia, whether that's nabbing the last reservation for an exclusive spa treatment -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - or seizing control of a country.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Listeners, I realize that the phrase “seizing control” had some negative connotations, and I'd just like to explain what I meant when I said that's what the prime minister did to the UK. There was a power vacuum and no one else was up to the task, so Amelia stepped in.

ZOE CRICK: I'd also like to clarify what I said. Amelia does only want what's best for Amelia, but right now, that's what's best for the country, too.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We hope.

ZOE CRICK: Amelia wants to live in a UK with hot running water, a plentiful supply of luxury goods, and no V-types. If she's the best person to make that happen, then her being in power is a good thing for all of us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And on that note, here's a song that always puts me in an optimistic mood.

~

ZOE CRICK: Radio New Hope is still fully independent and completely unbiased.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I wouldn't call your veto of progressive art rock unbiased.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, many of our listeners are out scavenging for supplies and running away from zombies. We don't need to make their lives any harder. My point is that our proximity to the prime minister has no bearing on our editorial stance.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, definitely. The fact that Amelia's just down the hall and controls the penal system doesn't affect what we say in the slightest. I hardly ever think about how easy it would be for her to kick me out of Fort Canton and leave me to the V-types.

ZOE CRICK: The only person who'll do that is me the next time you try to put on some King Crimson when I'm not looking. Amelia said a strong government has nothing to fear from a free press.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Might have been a test.

ZOE CRICK: She knows if we suddenly started spouting propaganda, our listeners would get suspicious. As long as she lets us carry on as normal, she looks confident, like she's got nothing to hide.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Which she hasn't. Probably.

~

ZOE CRICK: Do you really think that's necessary, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's journalistic ethics, Zoe. We've got to disclose it.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] Go on, then.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, one of Amelia's first acts as prime minister was to give us a new studio.

ZOE CRICK: It's hardly new.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's a lot nicer than what we were in before. Less sticky.

ZOE CRICK: To explain, listeners, Amelia is building a scale replica of the House of Commons at Fort Canton. Just like the original, it's furnished with green leather seats. Although most of the leftover building materials went to settlements more in need of refurbishment than Fort Canton, no one else wanted the green leather, so we've got it. All of it. Everything in this room is green.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's... a very relaxing color?

ZOE CRICK: In moderation. [sighs] I feel like I'm broadcasting from the depths of the swamp.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The important thing is that our new upholstery wasn't payment.

ZOE CRICK: Are you satisfied?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think so. We can't be too careful about this. Transparency's critical.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, perhaps, but it's hardly the most exciting way to fill the airwaves. Here's some music to lighten the mood.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We hope that's made it clear, listeners. Radio New Hope has no official affiliation with the prime minister, so you can stop filling ROFFLEnet with requests for new laws. We can't help you with them.

ZOE CRICK: And in many cases, we wouldn't want to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. To whoever wrote to us under the username Undying_Love, no, I don't think human/zombie marriage is going to be legally recognized anytime soon.

ZOE CRICK: I also think it's also safe to say that if and when the DVLA is back up and running, zombies probably won't be eligible for driving licenses.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: To be fair, we have received some reasonable requests, uh, it's just that we can't do anything about them. We're just broadcasters.

ZOE CRICK: That's right. While it's wonderful that so many of you are politically engaged, you need to direct your efforts towards the right people. If there's something you want discussed in parliament, contact the leader of your settlement.

~

ZOE CRICK: I'm glad that's cleared up. I must say, it's a relief not to be talking about politics for once.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not that politics isn't important, listeners, it's just that Zoe and I haven't really had a break from it since Amelia became prime minister.

ZOE CRICK: If we're not bumping into settlement leaders in the canteen, we're tripping over King Jamie's retinue when he drops in for his weekly conference with Amelia.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We can't even get a cup of tea without getting caught up in an argument about V-type policy.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, it's exhausting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So allow Radio New Hope to be your refuge from current affairs.

ZOE CRICK: Here's a song with absolutely no political message at all.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Since we're not talking about politics, let's catch up. Uh, Zoe, what have you been doing recently?

ZOE CRICK: Well, last night I went to see Amelia to -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No need to go into too much detail.

ZOE CRICK: - borrow a David Attenborough DVD.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh.

ZOE CRICK: She says they keep her children entertained, but I'm not sure they fully appreciate the lion cubs of the Serengeti. Anyway, I never even got to ask her for it because she was too busy arguing with the representative from the Psychoanalysts Enclave. The UK Alliance hasn't really figured out taxes yet, but Amelia's interpreting the concept loosely. In exchange for services, she wants control of all the dirt the Enclave acquired prior to the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Purely to keep it confidential?

ZOE CRICK: Of course.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, that's sort of like... It's politics, really, isn't it?

~

ZOE CRICK: All right then, Phil, what non-political activities have you been engaging in?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've been researching Alan Parsons.

ZOE CRICK: Don't you know everything about him already?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm putting together a biography. It's important that the history of significant cultural figures isn't lost. To make sure my information’s correct, I’ve been cross-referencing my sources with the fan community on ROFFLEnet. It's just that there aren't that many Alan Parsons fans -

ZOE CRICK: Who’d have thought?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - because many of them died in the apocalypse.

ZOE CRICK: I'm sorry.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The point is that because there are only a few people left with expertise in classic progressive rock, everyone else on the message board figured out who I am and that I work near Amelia.

ZOE CRICK: So you can't even escape politics on the Alan Parsons forum?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly. I've been bombarded with questions for her, things she hasn't addressed in her own broadcasts. I printed them out, actually. [paper rustles] Here, you can take a look.

ZOE CRICK: You know, some of these aren't bad. I wonder if Amelia would come on the show and answer them.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I always secretly wanted to host Question Time.

~

ZOE CRICK: Listeners, I'm very happy to announce that the prime minister Amelia Spens has agreed to appear on Radio New Hope and answer some of your questions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I won't ask how you convinced her.

ZOE CRICK: I didn't have to. She said it would be good for her image.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Really?

ZOE CRICK: Yes. She says the population sees her as intelligent, refined, and sophisticated, but that those qualities make her hard to relate to. According to her, appearing on Radio New Hope will increase her appeal to people who don't care about personal grooming and who haven't read a book since the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is that what she thinks of our listeners?

ZOE CRICK: To be fair, reading materials and cosmetics are in short supply.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yes, and people's priorities have changed. Some of us are more concerned with staying alive than getting our well-manicured hands on the last remaining issues of the Times Literary Supplement.

ZOE CRICK: A fair point. Listeners, to find out what our prime minister's priorities are, send your questions to us over ROFFLEnet.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe, since this is our first prime ministerial interview, do you think we should have picked a more appropriate song than that?

ZOE CRICK: It's too late now.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: People of the UK, we'd like to introduce a very special guest to Radio New Hope. Please welcome our prime minister, Amelia Spens.

AMELIA SPENS: Hello, Phil and Zoe. I must say, I'm glad this is a radio broadcast. This studio looks frightful.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Now hang on. It's decorated with offcuts you gave us.

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, is this where they ended up? I thought we were going to burn them.

ZOE CRICK: We're off to a good start, listeners. Let's have some serious music before we get into the questions.

~

ZOE CRICK: Our first question is from Concerned of Dorchester. “Prime Minister, when democracy is reinstated, will zombies get the vote?”

AMELIA SPENS: “When democracy is reinstated.” [laughs] Phil and Zoe, I hope these aren't all going to be comedy questions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think just focus on the zombie part for now.

AMELIA SPENS: I think we can all agree that one of the few silver linings of the apocalypse is the way outdated prejudices and social orders have been rejected.

ZOE CRICK: Just to be clear, you're not ruling out zombies having the vote?

AMELIA SPENS: Not until I know who they'd vote for. V-types are very intelligent in large groups.

~

ZOE CRICK: This next question is from Sir Augustus Headley Coombs. “Prime Minister, do your duties as a mother hinder your ability to run the country?”

AMELIA SPENS: Quite honestly, if anything, they help -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm sorry, Prime Minister, you don't have to answer that. I apologize on behalf of Radio New Hope to you and to all other mothers listening for airing a question that implies that motherhood might compromise a woman's abilities to do her job.

ZOE CRICK: Quite. We all know that if Amelia's abilities are compromised, it's by her refusal to do anything that might damage her manicure.

AMELIA SPENS: Are you still annoyed about that, Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: Now isn't the time.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: There's really no need to acknowledge this question, Prime Minister. Let's move on.

AMELIA SPENS: It's a reasonable question, and the answer is that dealing with a clutch of screaming children with no control over their emotions is the best training a prime minister could have.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've got a question from, uh... this person's username is just a string of cat emojis. They say, “Prime Minister, doctors and scientists are increasingly aware of the therapeutic benefits of caring for animals. Simply stroking a cat has been proven to lower blood pressure. Why, even when there's so much evidence that animals make it easier to cope with mental health difficulties, are kitten pens still not compulsory in all settlements?”

AMELIA SPENS: Zoe, did you write this? I told you, if you ever need a way to relieve stress, just come to my quarters and I’ll -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So that's a no on the kitten pens for now, listeners. Here's a nice loud song to block out the sound of your own imagination.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This question comes from BV, but I'm not sure we should ask it. Zoe, take a look.

[paper rustles]

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, I see what you mean. But if this is a true public forum, nothing should be off limits. Besides, I think the time for editorial qualms would have been before you printed out the entire message board.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Perhaps it wasn't the best use of our paper allowance.

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, just ask it. I've scheduled a hot stone massage after this and if I have to cancel, running out of paper will be the least of your problems.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Um... “Prime Minister, how does it feel to be the most attractive world leader of all time?”

AMELIA SPENS: It's a meaningless accolade.

ZOE CRICK: Of course. We shouldn't judge politicians on their appearance.

AMELIA SPENS: No, I mean there's no competition.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, the next question's also from BV. Uh, this one's a bit more sensible, though. It's about health policy. “Prime Minister, I am the CEO of a corporation with an extensive pharmaceutical arm. I'd be happy to discuss supplies for ministry hospitals. Perhaps over a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947 Saint-Emilion, and some caviar.”

ZOE CRICK: Wait, pharmaceutical corporation? BV? Is this Valmont? Prime Minister, I don't think this is a genuine request.

AMELIA SPENS: I'm terribly sorry, BV, but a meeting won't be possible right now. I have to be very careful about the relationship between business and government. You understand. More importantly, red wine and caviar is a dreadful pairing. Let me know when you've got some Dom Perignon and then we'll talk.

~

AMELIA SPENS: Zoe, I know that was a dreadful song, but could you at least -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hey!

AMELIA SPENS: - but you could at least stay awake for the duration. The rest of us had to.

ZOE CRICK: I was awake. I just like to close my eyes sometimes, or the green gets too much. Anyway, what's the next question, Phil?

[paper rustles]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ah, I don't think we need to ask that one.

AMELIA SPENS: Nothing is off limits. Please go ahead.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Um, Outraged of Essex asks, “Prime Minister, does your involvement with Zoe Crick create a conflict of interest regarding your appearance on this program?”

AMELIA SPENS: I don't know, Outraged, do your hobbies create a conflict of interest with your job?

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've got a question from [clears throat] Nice Try, But If You Think I'm Writing My Name In That Box, You've Got Another Thing Coming.

ZOE CRICK: I didn't know ROFFLEnet usernames could be that long.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Prime Minister, is it true that you're demanding the Psychoanalysts Enclave give you all their information? Would the details go public? Asking for a friend.”

AMELIA SPENS: Firstly, the UK Alliance doesn't demand anything, it's a negotiation. As for the information, it sounds like its secrecy is valuable to you. Interesting. Write to my office and we'll talk.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Happy and Glorious asks, “Will the king attend the State Opening of Parliament?”

AMELIA SPENS: The State Opening of Parliament took place in the House of Lords, not the House of Commons. Since we haven't built a House of Lords, it just wouldn't be right to reenact such a historically significant ceremony. A shame, as I'm sure King Jamie's speech about self-sacrifice and duty would have been a hoot.

ZOE CRICK: Couldn't you adapt the ceremony for post-apocalyptic times?

AMELIA SPENS: What do you mean?

ZOE CRICK: Before Z-Day, the State Opening of Parliament consisted of several commemorative rituals. For example, the Palace of Westminster cellars would be searched for explosives in remembrance of the Gunpowder Plot.

AMELIA SPENS: And you're suggesting we open Parliament with zombie-themed rituals, is that it? [laughs] Amused as I am by the thought of King Jamie being chased through Fort Canton by a horde of V-types, there are several recent events that it would be best the population stop associating with the office of minister.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You mean all that stuff with Sigrid?

AMELIA SPENS: It's easier for people to forget if they're not being constantly reminded, Phil.

~

ZOE CRICK: Lance Corporal Kapoor asks, “Is there any truth to the rumor that defense resources are being spent retrieving high heels from the last remaining Christian Louboutin shop in Mayfair?”

AMELIA SPENS: Yes. Politics is all about image, and I need to look stylish yet powerful to intimidate our enemies.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But aren't zombies our biggest enemies? Do they notice shoes?

AMELIA SPENS: There's a lot we don't know yet about zombies.

ZOE CRICK: On that note, here's a song that'll make us all feel powerful.

~

AMELIA SPENS: Are we nearly finished? All this green is giving me a headache.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Almost. The Truth Is Out There asks, “Is the UK Alliance withholding information about UFOs?”

AMELIA SPENS: UFOs?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Unidentified flying -

AMELIA SPENS: I know what they are, Phil. Listener, was the zombie apocalypse not enough? Haven't you had your fill of government conspiracies? Don't you think if - actually, no, I'm not going to dignify this stupid question with an answer. That's it, I'm afraid, Phil and Zoe. It's time for my massage.

[chair legs scrape across floor]

ZOE CRICK: Wait, there's one more.

AMELIA SPENS: No.

ZOE CRICK: Where is Janine De Luca?

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, Janine. I'm amazed anyone noticed she was gone. Don't worry, listeners. Colonel De Luca is on a secret mission and it's all under control. She and her appallingly drab outfits will be back at Abel in no time. And with that, I'm off.

[door opens]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think it's probably time for some music.

~

ZOE CRICK: I think that went... about as well as could be expected.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, considering it was our first prime ministerial interview, we didn't read the questions before going live, and we're broadcasting from what looks like the inside of a spinach tin.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] I thought you liked the decor.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Just didn't want to complain. Fort Canton's been a stressful place to work since Amelia became prime minister, but I try to remember that we're all on the same team. Everyone wants to get rid of the V-types and we need to work together, focus on the big things, and not sweat the small stuff.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. Like how our studio looks like Kermit the Frog's fever dream?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly.

~

[magazine pages rustle]

ZOE CRICK: Phil? Phil, we're live.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, sorry. Uh... [clears throat] Hello, ci-ti-zens! Welcome back to Radio New Hope, where your entertainment is our priority.

ZOE CRICK: Except when we're reading... [magazine rustles] Vogue? Phil, don't take this the wrong way, but I never thought of you as being particularly interested in fashion.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I never was, Zoe, before the apocalypse. But one of our runners picked this up from a dentist's waiting room during a meds run and I was curious. So fascinating, really, that there used to be this whole industry dedicated to the way we looked.

ZOE CRICK: The people in these pictures had no idea what was coming.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If they had, maybe they'd have worn more practical shoes.

ZOE CRICK: Yes. [laughs] Good luck running from a zom in those. They're quite fun, actually.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, they're pretty good, but I prefer these.

ZOE CRICK: Wow! [laughs] Those are quite something. You couldn't wear them to work, though.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not unless you were this next musical artiste!

~

ZOE CRICK: Welcome back, listeners. Today we're reading Vogue, which is like gazing through a portal into another dimension.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A dimension where people thought it was sensible to make dresses out of tin foil and feathers.

ZOE CRICK: Mm, I'm not sure sense had anything to do with it. These clothes are about fantasy. They're works of art.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, those ones are, but look at this other fashion mag I picked up. [magazine page rustles] This article is called “Summer Must-haves.” It's telling me I must spend 700 pounds on these trousers. And it's next to an advert for some magic cream to make me look young. Now remember, before the apocalypse, a lot of people worried about not wearing the right clothes or that it was a bad thing to look their age.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, that's a good point. Nowadays, if you see someone older, you know they've probably got some wisdom to share. Always handy in the post-apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly! Just yesterday, a teenager asked me where the toilets are.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, impressive! [laughs] Here's a song by someone even older and wiser than Phil.

~

ZOE CRICK: You know, Phil, how we look hasn't become totally irrelevant since the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well... yeah. Uh, it's-it's important to look basically alive so that no one mistakes you for a zombie and tries to knock your head off with a baseball bat.

ZOE CRICK: True, but I was thinking more about the way we express ourselves. For example, isn't that a Dream Theater T-shirt you're wearing?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yes. You know, it does cheer me up to wear a T-shirt featuring a band I like, even if they are all dead.

ZOE CRICK: And I'm wearing socks with cats on them. Every now and again, someone will stop me in the corridor and compliment me because they like cats, too. Then we'll have a conversation about cats and the whole day gets a little brighter.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: They are pretty nice socks.

ZOE CRICK: Thank you, Phil. [giggles] Since we're on the topic, why don't you put on a song for our listeners and I tell you about the morning I spent in the kitten pen?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, do I get a choice?

ZOE CRICK: Nope.

~

[talvin-muircastle]

The Last of the King’s Men (Original Fiction)

This was the first story I wrote in November 2015, when I was doing my Short-Story-A-Day challenge.  

Content warning: violent death.

And so I begin again, for the fourth year.  It's semi-traditional that I start out with something that has a "spooky" element to it.  I've had this one stirring in my head for a while, but I had to sit down and write it after a very long day.  Still: a single draft. It stands.

The murder happened around midnight.  They woke Inspector Arrensby at a quarter to three. "Beg pardon, sir," said the patrolman at his door, "Man found dead in the park, and it's a strange killin', it is.  I have a coach waiting." "Of course.  Come in out of the cold while I get ready." He could barely see the lanterns through the fog when they reached the park.  Together they made their way over to the body.  The patrolman filled him in as they walked.  "It was me as found him, sir, on my rounds.  Literally tripped right over him in this soup.  No sign of a struggle, no sign of a weapon, and well, it's not gonna be the sort of thing you can stick in your pocket...look." "In the King's Name!" swore Arrensby.  The body lay on its stomach, and the head sat on a rock a short distance away, bearing a crown made of browning oak leaves.   "Aye, sir.  This is why we wanted you.  Man beheaded, wearing a crown of oak...looks kinda like the old King's crown from the books, don't it?  Except there ain't no King no more, not for a century and some." "No," whispered Arrensby, "there is no more King."  And it was true. The King lay dead at his feet. Late morning, and Arrensby had had no sleep, no food, and no answers.  The first two he would remedy soon enough, but first he had a duty to perform.  A hired coach dropped him at the front door of Wallens House, the home of the recently deceased.  He had been there many times before, but always by the back way, by night or disguised.  Today, none would think it odd if he used the front door.   The sun shone brightly through the crisp air, the first sun that had been clearly seen in a month.  It was bitter irony that the death of a great man should be heralded by pleasant weather.  Storms and gloom seemed more appropriate, somehow.  Yet they had had enough of both this last year, with a poor harvest, ships lost at sea, and an outbreak of the fever that had left families mourning their children and elders too soon.  I should be glad of the sun, thought the Inspector.   I suppose I should. The door opened, and Arrensby was shown into the parlor.  A young woman sat there in a chair that would only suggest a throne to someone inclined to think in such terms already: Catherine Wallens, only daughter of Cecil Wallens.  He knelt before her, "My Queen." "Not yet, Andrew.   Frederick: the blade."  Her butler handed her a slender sword, which she lay across her hands.  They shook slightly, but he pretended not to notice.   He set his right hand upon the sword and his left upon his heart.  "The Queen is the Land, and the Land is the Queen.  I, Andrew Stewart Arrensby, do swear upon this blessed blade that I shall serve the Land by serving my Sovereign the Queen, and that I shall serve Her by serving the Land and Her People.  I further swear that none not of the Court shall know my true allegiance, nor that the Line continues unbroken!" He withdrew his hand, and she laid the sword across her lap.  "I accept your oath and your loyalty, Guardsman.  Now I beg of you: tell me of my father." "My Queen, I know too little.   It...it was clearly ritualistic.  Perhaps some attempt to raise power.  I must consult with Master Kenneth: if Magic was involved, it both shortens our list of suspects and increases the threat to you.   Ah...forgive me.  Has Mr. Perry been informed?" She blinked back tears and nodded.  "The Admiralty sent a message by wireless this morning.  He is currently serving as Commodore Entwright's Flag Lieutenant, and the Commodore is putting him on the next fast ship home, on compassionate leave.  The wedding...will of course be delayed, as I will be in mourning."  The Queen's Fiancee safely across the water.   Inwardly, Andrew breathed a sigh of relief: none were above suspicion, yet it eased his mind to be able to move that one further down the list. "Your Majesty, I must continue my investigation.  I have spoken to the other Guardsmen already, and the watch upon you will be increased.  If there is anything else I may do, call for me." "Thank you.  Please keep me...Us...informed." The butler showed him out, asking if he should summon a cab, but the Inspector declined: he wanted to walk to clear his head.  Soon he found himself taking his lunch at one of the capital's many cookshops, eating without really noticing the taste as he pondered the death of his Sovereign Lord. A hundred and fifty years ago, the last King had died without issue--or so it was thought.  The Age of Magic was ended, the Age of Reason begun, and already many felt that time of the Kings and Knights was done as well.  For centuries it had been said that the King was the Land and the Land was the King, and that if the Line ever ended, so would the Kingdom and her people.  The death of a childless monarch had been heralded as proof that the old stories of magic and wonder were only that: stories.   They were wrong.  The King had hidden a daughter from all but his closest advisors, and she had been raised--secretly, but in plain sight--to assume the throne upon his death.  As the Kingdom transitioned to a form of government based on elections and public debate, the Royal Court slipped into the shadows.   Its members occupied key positions in the government--though never the Prime Ministry--and subtly guided this journey into self-government.   They were content to act only when this young, untested form of rule faltered.  For a century and a half, it had worked.   "Mr. Wallens", descended of an old Yeoman family of good fortune and good character (which that first secret Queen had married into) was a respected scholar of law, the sort of man that the courts and the politicians turned to when matters were less than clear.  Thus he had served his people openly, while speaking more plainly to the members of his Court behind closed doors. Mr. Wallens was not the sort of man who would be murdered in some bizarre ritual. King Cecil II was almost certainly the intended victim. Sleep would have to wait.  He needed answers, and Master Kenneth. Kenneth Owen, Ph.D., R.S.M. A Fellow of the Royal Society--still called that, out of tradition.  Naturalist, Philosopher, Ordained Minister, a Navigator in the Navy in his youth, a polymath of wit and skill.  Also: Royal Mage.  He opened the door at the first ring, "Inspector.  I knew you would seek me out.  Come in." Arrensby went in, marvelling as always at the decor.  Most Mages had to hide their vocation in this Age of Reason, but an man as eccentric and eclectic as Master Kenneth could put his tools on public display: "A fascinating study in anthropology!" he would tell the curious, and proceed to tell his visitors the precise use of each bit in a tone that implied that he didn't believe a word of it.  Master Kenneth also fancied himself Court Jester at times, and the old King had never corrected him for saying so. "You're here about His Majesty, of course.  Dreadful, utterly dreadful...but he hadn't been feeling well all this year, and so now he is spared that at least."  Master Kenneth was an odd sort, but this was strange even for him.  He puttered about his office nervously, moving things about.   Arrensby felt a stirring of concern.   "I...found the manner of his passing to be most peculiar.  It looked more like a sacrifice in some ritual, truth be told." "Oh, most definitely, most definitely a sacrifice.  Old magic, it was.  The King is the Land, the Land is the King.  If one prospers, so does the other.  If one is overcome, both are overcome.  Normally it passes...well, normally!  Sometimes, though, stronger measures are called for.  He knew that.  That's why he came to me." "What...what are you saying?"  Arrensby was sweating, now, despite the draft from the window at his back.  "The King is the Land...we say it, but that's not how it really works." Kenneth turned, and his eyes shone with a frantic inner light.  "That is the Reason in you speaking.  Ask the Guardsman, the one who is also a Knight.  Look outside, Andrew!  Not a cloud in the sky!  The land is young and fresh again!" Sir Andrew was on his feet, now, without memory of having risen.  "You couldn't have...that would be treason!" "No, not treason!  He left a letter here, explaining it all.  And this book here...this is the diary of a madman. I have been preparing it ever since His Majesty gave me my orders.  And this," Master Kenneth snatched at a sword hanging on the wall amidst the other curios, "is the murder weapon. EN GARDE, SIR!"   There was no time to think, no time to attempt to reason with him.  Master Kenneth, aged though he was, lifted the blade over his head and charged screaming. Arrensby's hand darted inside his jacket. CRACK!   The pistol-shot was nearly deafening in that old office.  Outside, he heard the whistles of patrolmen.   Near midnight, he knelt again before his Queen.  Sleep would come soon, but first he had to make his report.  He handed over the King's Last Will and Testament, in which Cecil had explained that he knew that his own illness and the sickness of the land were one, and that only his death would end them both.  Over his own seal, he said that he had ordered Kenneth to do it, and that Kenneth planned his own death as well, to bring closure to the case in the public eye.   The diary had satisfied Arrensby's superiors in the force: poor old Master Kenneth, his mind had snapped.  He had attempted some spell out of an old book that required a human sacrifice, an act of madness from one who had spent too much time with such things.  Only a few knew the truth. "Thank you, Andrew.  I wondered, when Kenneth did not come to me.  I sent him word at first light, but he did not come.  Always before, he had come when I asked for him.  Had he come today, though, he would have had to swear to me, and he couldn't.  He held faith with my father, even as he betrayed me."  She looked down at her father's letter again. "Truly, he was the last of the King's Men."

[koganeirou]

Alright I finished Crimson Flower and after letting my thoughts marinate for a bit, I decided to do a very long write up on my thoughts. Despite the fact that I made a beeline for black eagles the moment I got the game because I had an extreme feverish passion for El at first, my thoughts on this route are unfortunately mostly negative. This is the first and only route I played so far, and I know very little about the events that transpire in the other routes.

Five thousand disclaimers that these are just my opinions that may or may not change when I play the other routes and it’s not meant to discredit folks who like Crimson Flower. Also there will be spoilers.

For starters, I think the story does a terrible job at convincing you that Edelgard’s actions are justified or even necessary. This route felt less like fighting to change the world for the better and more like a savage conquest with every chapter being El going like “we gotta kill this guy now” and I’m like “but why” and El’s like “WE JUST GOTTA”. I guess the right way to say it is that El’s route lacked emotional impact. I could not celebrate her victories with her because my only reaction was “was that really necessary” and “buddy why”. It ultimately felt like El was simply solving problems by creating more problems.

Instead of just saying “I want to uproot a societal system from its core so I have to overthrow the Church”, the story opts for El to give incredibly vague and wishy washy reasons on why the Church Is Bad. Something something, they’re not really humans and twist history??? The story forces you to do some crazy mental gymnastics to try and see El’s side of the story when everything just boils down to “Crests are Bad = Church is Bad”.

In Part 1, there was a lot of build up of the church’s obvious corruption and how they’re not to be trusted, but the build up falls flat because the story tries to make the reveal of Rhea’s beast form be the damning thing to convince the player that the church is so terrible that they have to be stopped even at the cost of thousands of lives... and well... in a franchise where almost everyone is secretly a dragon, that just did not sell me. 

We’ve been knew that Crests Are Bad but does that justify sacrificing thousands of lives to upheave the church? I dunno man..................................... the story doesn’t really put much effort to convince you that this is the Only Way and it doesn’t feel like El has put much thought into trying alternative solutions before jumping straight to murder because it was the easiest solution. Which sucks because I think exploring El’s methods and mindset would definitely make for an interesting conflict. The whole idea of if war is never justifiable, is it better to let everyone remain suffering under the status quo forever? El’s belief that nothing will change unless she takes direct action has validity to it, but the game just expects you to agree with her from the get go so El never truly has to stand firm and defend her values.

Edelgard’s decision to unify Fodlan is something I really, really side eye. She’s straight up invading sovereign lands and putting them under her own rule of her own volition. While yes, Church Is Bad, barging into someone else’s land uninvited to dictate how they rule their government and “fix their society” is ultimately something I find incredibly self righteous and arrogant. This idea of “fighting for peace” through not just instigating a war, but going on a violent conquest just seems... disingenuous to me? How does she plan on dealing with the lingering resentment from the folks whose land were conquered? She’s just replacing the crest system with an Empire who will murder anyone who stands against them which... makes her literally no different from what Rhea was.

The above point is mainly due to her whole tirade into the alliance which just felt extremely unnecessary, especially when Claude was trying to keep the alliance in a neutral stance. El’s reasoning for conquering the alliance because “some of the nobles oppose me” was really flimsy like... maybe they wouldn’t oppose you if you just left them alone instead of making them choose between handing over their independence or having their land burnt to the ground. 

Her dialogue with and about Dimitri is ridiculous because she criticizes him for being consumed by hatred and obsession and “losing his path as a king” but...... bruh, you’re STILL invading his country, so even if Dimitri wasn’t a raging murder man, he’d still oppose you because did you just expect a king to simply Hand Over His Land and not defend himself????? 

The absolute worst, worst part of CF isn’t even Edelgard herself but how the other students react to her. It feels like none of the beagles and especially the other house characters except Lysithea have any real reason to side with her, and even if they did (which wouldn’t be surprising because we see how the crests ruined so many lives), these valid reasons are never brought up and it’s overshadowed by almost everyone lamenting “is this bloodshed even necessary?” (news flash: probably not). But why the FUCK are you guys even siding with her in the first place if you're gonna regret it afterwards or don’t actually agree with her? You don’t just side with an instigator of war with half baked resolves, and the convictions of these characters aren’t even quarter baked. 

This wouldn’t be too bad if not for the fact that the beagle kids themselves also seem to have more reasons to turn on El than to fight for her. Especially when Edelgard has done nothing to ever prove herself trust worthy. Hell, CF is kicked off with Edelgard betraying everyone and revealing herself to be the Flame Emperor, which is literal admittance to her association with the slithers. Yet no one seems to put two and two together and just decides to blindly trust and follow her without second thought because... why? Who knows!!! As Sothis so eloquently puts it, they’re all boulders just rolling down whatever hill they’re on, and I could not stand how little agency and independent thought that the other characters showed. It felt like El was the driver while everyone else was just strapped into the passenger seat, mindlessly going along with the ride. No questions, no thoughts, no challenges, and to top it off, it doesn’t even feel like any of them truly believe in what they’re fighting for because they never bring up the validity of El’s ideals or the consequences of her actions. 

The beagles had the group dynamic of a wet paper bag. Lysithea is the one of the only characters who actively shows any real agency for fighting for Edelgard and firmly voices how El’s goals compare to her personal values, which is a stark difference to everyone else who has a "¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I guess this is my life now” type attitude to an infuriating degree. 

Byleth siding with El also has me doing extreme shifty eyes. I can get behind them making an emotionally charged decision to defend her from Rhea but holy crap I saved you from Rhea because I didn’t want you to die, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving you the okay to murder all your classmates!! The game expects the player to take a huge leap of faith when siding with Edelgard, thinking “she has to have a proper explanation for this” and cue.... no explanation ever, until like... five years later. El’s relationship with the beagles felt disingenuous because she actively breaches the trust of others, lies to others, hides crucial information from others (slithers, anyone?), and nobody cares. She straight up lies about the church nuking Arianrhod and it’s never addressed.

The issue with the slithers and Byleth’s dad is even worse because it is never addressed until well into the route, and it’s brought up by not El, but fucking Hubert. Not to mention El is giant jackass to Byleth after their dad died even though he died because of her damn accomplices. We’re supposed to just lie down and accept the slithers’ presence because “well they’re necessary for our plans” even though we curb stomped the entire continent by ourselves, so I dunno why we can’t just shank them now. The slithers literally did nothing aside from chill around, maybe blow up a city or two to spite El. It’s ridiculous how the organization who is directly responsible for El’s abuse and trauma has no on screen resolution when frankly, I think the slithers deserve El’s animosity far more than the church. 

Despite my extreme criticism towards El, I want to stress that I don’t hate El. In fact, I love her character a lot and I think she’s really fascinating. However, I think CF really shot her characterization in the foot because it doesn’t feel like El really grew or developed or changed. She stubbornly believed that her actions were right at the beginning and by the end of the game, she still believes her actions were right because the story doesn’t really bother to try and prove her otherwise. I just think she’s much more suited as an antagonist, and I’m excited to see her portrayal in the other routes. Sorry El, I love you, but I would never in a million years side with you.

To end this salt fest on a positive note, I will say the route had three things I enjoyed: the ending, Mercedes and Jeritza’s support, and Edelgard and Lysithea’s support. Seriously, I would not have so many complaints if the rest of the route had the same amount of emotional tension and feeling as El and Lysithea’s support. I enjoyed the ending fairly much; the final battle in the burning city was epic as hell and so was the final cutscene. The scene where El sobs in Byleth’s chest after Byleth’s heart beat returns was extremely touching to me. So because I liked the ending enough, at the very least I was able to finish the play through on a somewhat content note. Also random side note but Edelgard’s seiyuu is amazing.

Anyway my order from favourite to least favourite beagle kids are Dorothea > Edelgard > Ferdie > Bernie > Linhardt > Petra > Hubert > Caspar.

tldr: my experience with crimson flower