#do not be fooled by that face she is a chaos bringer

[janedoeremi]

This is Scout. she is 8 months old and she's menace to society in training

Her nicknames are:

Scooter

Bingus

Bing-Bong

Babbu

Her favorite activities include:

Biting and chewing on everything

Violently playing with her toys

Barking at the void

Chasing her non-existent tail

Annoying my cat by pulling his tail

Running 20mph into other dogs to force them to play with her

Destroying the concept of personal space

Demanding attention by jumping on people in the dead of night

Stealing treats from petstores

She will sow chaos for the sake of a dog bone and I would let her.

[gildedwar]

kissing your partner to seal a marriage . (stop i forgot to say for theseus LMAO)

Kisses!

The ceremonies had gone swimming. They'd vowed in the temple of Aphrodite, stone floors now red with the blood of sacrificial lambs, ridden the chariot back to his castle, flames of torches lighting the way as though Eros himself were attempting to sway their hearts. They'd come far, the celebrations of the king extending well into the city.

He can practically feel a growing wrath of an angry Hera already, and yet his convictions don't sway.

Singing, and music fill the air, each note floating upon the wind and the people dance like birds of prey, around and around. Drink and food are abundant, and all in his kingdom are welcome to rejoice and join in on the festivities. Even from high upon his hill it's easy to see that the people are thrilled for him— more than he himself is.

Not that he dislikes his new bride, but this was done purely for convenience, for protection. A common enemy that needed to be taken care of, and what better way than to sneak in the chaos bringer, to get her close enough that she could smile in his face and he not recognize her. They'd both have been fools to not agree, and yet as he swoops her up into his arms and carries her through the threshold of his home he can't help but feel they are the fools, such a target for the gods they are putting up on themselves.

Yet he continues, step by step with his bride, feet touching marble floors as he ceremoniously brings her into his home, for good... Or until divorce sets them apart. There are cheers from the congregation outside of the doors, family, and friends alike— he can see and hear his mother weeping as he glances back. It would be a sweet moment if not for the entire fabrication of the marriage— regardless of how officially done it was.

He sets her down, gown holding tight to her form and Theseus quite ceremoniously lifts the ruby veil from her, and her diamonds glitter in the low light of the torches— the tears of the gods they were, and seeing her fully for the first time strikes him. Sure, he'd been well aware of her beauty, but the outfit and the jewelry, her stunning amethyst eyes remind him of Lord Dionysus'. Though he holds far less fear of her than he, (though he's not foolish enough to hold no fear of her,) he can appreciate them for their enchanting nature far more now, this close under these circumstances.

"Till death do us part, right my love?" Not their death, but their common enemies of course. Yet he still had a part to play, watching eyes made sure of that. A hand, strong but rough from many years of battle, sailing and adventure cups her cheek, blue eyes softening as they're drawn to lovely plush lips. With his other hand, he finds the small of her back, pulling her flush, in a way that could be seen as protective to the outsiders, or perhaps possessive. She is drawn near, as close as their hearts could be to one another as his head dips, lips meeting for the first time.

The kiss is slow, and he's careful to not overwhelm her. It's simple, a tilt of the head, a firm press and soft smacking of lips that can't be heard over the eruption of applause, cheers from beyond the doorway. He finds it to be... Pleasant. Not that he'd anticipated otherwise, yet he still finds a bit of surprise in the fact as his hand falls away from her cheek to join together around her waist. Cheekily he surges forward, dipping her dramatically into the liplock and the cheers only grow. He knows if he were not showboating a bit that he may arouse suspicion, and as he straightens them back out he throws the group a wildly big smile. Excitement buzzes around them, and it appears to outsiders to be contagiously infecting the king, but they both know it is just an act.

"Excuse us," he says, and with a kick, the door sails shut with a bang. They're alone. They'd really done it, and it seemed that everyone believed it as well... Even if some did not approve. They'd be expected to make love, and Theseus clears his throat awkwardly, as though her makeup weren't upon his lips.

"We... Uh, don't have to do anything else if you don't want to, they will not know." Of course, if she did want to, Theseus was the last person who would complain; after all, he was known to be a womanizer.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from " Nagah" & "Nuwisha" & "Ratkin" & "Rokea" in "Chapter Two: The Changing Breeds" from the World of Darkness "Changing Breeds" book (20th Anniversary edition)

A few maintain ties to their old human lives, but even then they need a tight network of allies to maintain an illusion of normalcy.

To preserve secrecy, the cult reveals only a few hints about their existence before the outsider formally agrees to join.

Preserve the Sacred Secret at All Costs

Punish Those Who Betray Their Duties

Never Hunt Alone

Remain Humble

Abhor Imbalance

Strike Against the Corruptor if the Opportunity is True

Without information networks and clean-up crews, the assassins would be much less effective as a whole.

Cover your eyes

Try a bite of this apple

May I see your gun?

He may also be able to notice patterns when there should be randomness, order where there should be chaos, and times and places where these forces are out of balance.

The human will be oblivious to the serpent being there, even using rationalization to deny its presence.

Such simple tricks are generally all a truly skilled assassin needs.

Every other word out of her mouth is a falsehood, no matter how innocuous or simple the truth.

If these are mixed with the drink before it is converted it can make a poison that only affects the target.

Yes, we killed them. Another casualty of our past.

I wonder what the world would be like had we not been so stupid.

You are entirely repugnant, awful, scurrilous creatures.

We watch when you enjoy your work, in case you do so too much.

Dancers and mystics? What use were they?

You forget that others swim, down deeper than even you go.

We know what you do to one another when you think nobody else can see.

Weak and useless.

How would a dancer help me survive?

Let a Fool Die a Fool’s Death.

Teach Those Who Need Teaching a Proper Lesson

Be Subtle

Think, Then act

Sure, the victim won’t feel the benefit of the lesson for long, but his friends might learn as they wonder how they can avoid the same grisly fate.

Thankfully, this is quickly followed by the realization that their fun with comes a responsibility to teach and to make their pranks meaningful.

Even the noblest individuals can be brought low by public embarrassment.

Sometimes the best tricks need the target to sleep through anything.

After all, close friends and lovers know just where to stick a dagger to make sure it really hurts.

Over the next 24 hours one of them will suspect betrayal by the other.

With the cackling of laughter she can swap good fortune for bad, twisting the strings of probability and fate between her fingers — though she has no control over the outcome.

True love comes in many forms.

You came over here all high and mighty and now you’re sorry?

Say you’re sorry by doing something useful, maybe?

I cannot help but have a modicum of respect for someone who laughs in the face of certain death, even though I would be the agent of that death.

Let them test every rule, as long as they do not test my patience.

Yes, you got fucked. Yes, it was worse than nearly anyone else. But it’s time to wake up, now.

You laugh at everything. Marry me.

They sabotage infrastructure projects, booby-trap new municipal developments, and generally cause large-scale urban destruction.

They cannot stand toe-to-toe with their foes and expect to survive the encounter.

Survive so that you may breed.

Respect strength and exploit weakness.

Conflict breeds strength.

Build, steal, and suborn to strengthen your breeding grounds.

Trust your own kind before you trust outsiders.

When someone is responsible for injustice, make sure someone pays.

Some follow various twisted versions of apocalyptic human religions, others fervently believe conspiracy theories involving the end of the world, mystical coincidences, or simply the obvious truth that global warming, rampant pollution, and humans’ desire for fossil fuels could spell the end of the world.

They find space in various odd corners of cities, taking over cheap apartments or squatting in abandoned buildings.

Anything’s better than being alone.

I will defend our breeding grounds against all threats, physical and spiritual.

I shall seek revenge against those who prey upon my kind.

I will survive so that I may breed.

I must respect strength and exploit weakness.

I shall grow stronger through conflict.

I will learn from the mysteries of the spirit world.

I will revel in the visions the spirits grant me.

I will build, steal, and suborn to strengthen my breeding ground.

I shall nurture, instruct, and aid the young.

I will trust my own kind before I trust outsiders.

When someone is responsible for injustice, I will make sure someone pays.

Some are inclined to violence, others lose themselves in strange dreams and bouts of insanity.

These creatures are deformed, sterile, and a source of shame to their parents.

They know many secret methods of traveling from city to city.

They excel at stealth and subterfuge, knowing how to kill unseen, and also how to lead a pack against larger and stronger enemies.

They excel at hunting and fighting underground.

You are certain you will triumph in grandiose ways and want everyone to hear about your coming glory.

This is likely to involve a mixture of electricity, packs of store-bought batteries, energy drinks, illegal drugs — or a fusion of all of the above.

Stop holding yourselves back.

You know what it’s like, you feel it every day.

You aren’t slaves, stand and fight!

Rise up and seize what is yours!

Sometimes, they go too far, but even when they do I wish we had their strength of purpose.

You’re kindred spirits as far as I can see.

You want to fight, I can smell it. We’ll fight with you.

Small, smelly, and spoiling for a fight.

They throw themselves into battle too quickly, but we need their energy.

You want to know a secret? Come closer.

Knife? What knife?

We have seen too much sickness to spend our time with bringers of plague.

I spoke with one and learned much, but it is a feat I do not wish to repeat.

Some organized raiding parties that sank human ships.

These efforts were short-sighted, disorganized, and, ultimately, doomed to fail.

Their attacks did provoke a reaction, although it was not the intended one.

This organized killing was new to them, and driven by a largely unfamiliar emotion; fear.

This organized killing was new to them, and driven by a largely unfamiliar emotion; fear.

Your twisted plans waste time.

Talking is not doing.

They have secrets, but it is not worth the effort.

Do not fear them, for you will never see them.

You remember us.

You think you know us.

We do not remember how we were. We change. We survive.

[toasterfuloftoast]

My Rules:

1) Please put #Toastyadopts once you have adopted one of these. Just put in the first one and from then on forth you don’t need to do that.

2) Please do not steal these. It would make me really upset if I catch you.

3) Please do not resell these. If you no longer want your adoptable then please tell me.

4) Love these guys! You can rename and redesign them as much as you please!

5) Please do not make NSFW of these characters. 

6) Please tag me. 

Quips about the characters that appear in order:

Augustus age 13, child of Dr.Kahl and Chips: He may look like chaos but he’s actually rather intelligent. He’s usually this hyper when he successfully pulled something fun off. Most of the time he’s a tired kid that tries to do wacky experiments on everyone he knows. Don’t be fooled by his cuteness. (Unsold)

Clover age 10, child of Rumor and Cagney:  Born to a watchful mother and an aggressive father, Clover is the princess. She is extremely shy and hates to meet new people. She doesn’t get along with her dad at all because she brings more trouble than good. Her mother sees her as her heir and has been training her to be that. One thing Clover never liked about herself is her eyes. They’re just not right looking. She covers them up and refuses to let others get close to see. (Unsold)

Golden Spectra,age 13, Child of Specter and Chalice: She can hear the dead on the train speak. Her voice is one of softness and gentleness. She spies on everything but doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t get along with her brother and gets into very loud fights. She plays no tricks but she can walk through walls. (Unsold)

Copper, age 3, child of Cagney and Rumor: Copper is just a cranky baby. He wants to wander but can’t because he’s stuck in the ground. He gets angry when it’s bought up and buzzes is when he can’t have what he wants. (Unsold)

Looper, age 12, child of Hilda and Beppi:He loves to swing from the rafters and do all the tricks he could before crashing down. He may reach for the stars but a swing could only go so far. He’s a big goof ball and only likes to have fun with everyone he knows.(Unsold)

Mariane,age 14, child of Cala Maria and Grim Matchstick: She was born without arms and is seen as an ugly girl. She hated her terrible face and gets upset when other mermaids bully her about her beauty. She keeps to herself and usually eats some fish rather than eat humans. She hordes pearls and shiny things to try to make herself look pretty. (Unsold)

Prince Vino von Bon Bon, Age 8, child of Cuphead and Baroness: A young prince has become the apple of his mother’s eye. Vino has been educated in becoming a baron like his mother. However, he likes the adventures he takes with his sister. Unfortunately, he’s taken a few bad fumbles. But, he’s a strong and keeps going. It’s what drives him. (Unsold)

Prince Silvester von Bon Bon,Age 8, child of Baroness von Bon Bon and Sally Stageplay: Silvester was born to be a star and couldn’t make it. But, his stubbornness didn’t make that easy to swallow. He took his talents into the journey of a prince and boy did that work. He thinks highly of himself and is very disliked. But in his mom’s eyes, he is a golden good boy that could do no harm. (Unsold)

Prince Sinclair and Miles von Bon Bon, Age 12, child of Baroness von Bon Bon and Beppi: Twins boys with a lot in common. They cause all sorts of chaos when they work together. Miles is a bit shyer and tends to stay in the circus while Sinclair stays with their mom. They switch places all the time and just love being little chaos bringers. They have nothing better to do with their time. (Unsold)

Caspian, Age 13, child of  Cala and Mugman: Caspian is the son of Cala Maria. Left to his father at a young age, he’s grown to enjoy the quiet life. He paints and draws in his free time. He does however hate noise. He’s an introvert and gets angry when disturbed. He knows of his gorgon powers and uses them to make others leave him alone. He plans to stay alone and isn’t interested in anybody. He gets irritated with a lot so he’s not very nice.(Unsold)

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/message-to-lightworkers-august-28th-2020-victims-and-saviors/

Message to Lightworkers, August 28th 2020 ~ Victims and Saviors

Message to Lightworkers, August 28th 2020 ~ Victims and Saviors

By Caroline Oceana Ryan

This week’s guidance from the Ascended Masters, Galactics, Earth Elementals, Fae Elders, Angelic legions, and Archangels known as the Collective:

Greetings, friends! We are very pleased to have this moment to speak with you today.

Recently a Light Bringer commented to our writer about a channeling she had received for him, from one of his guides. 

He wrote:

“In a recent channeling you did for me, my guide said that I am not the savior of the planet. 

What I learned from that was, that we as Lightworkers are anchoring many Light codes that have helped bring about many changes and current situations on the planet.

It is our job to bring in the higher Light/energy so that the necessary changes can take place. 

What she said also showed me that my most important job is to stay strong, to focus and take care of myself, and not be concerned or worried or stressed about what is going on in the world around me.

Our jobs as Lightworkers is to keep our energy/Light as strong as possible. 

By doing this we are enabling our energy to flow, which will allow for a stronger fifth dimensional Light to be distributed around the planet.

If we worry and stress about all the chaos and madness going on simultaneously, this only diminishes the strength of our fifth dimensional Light, which is used to build the New Earth, and at the same time, protect the planet from the darker energies.

So by focusing on ourselves, and having the attitude that all is taken care of and all is complete, we are doing the greatest good that we came here to do.

That might sound selfish, but this is how we stay strong and focused, and stand tall and let our natural abilities as Lightworkers accomplish the most good.

We should not feel guilty about being concerned about ourselves and taking care of ourselves first. This is what we came here to do.”

Our writer recently channeled another message from another spirit guide, who offered almost the exact same message.

And she has pondered the point about guilt, as she and so many others were raised with the idea that “It is better to give than to receive,” which is a mistranslation of the text that has led to many misunderstandings of the original teaching.

It is of course possible to understand that this is a misteaching, and not a solid Truth for Light Bearers at this time. 

Yet the subconscious is powerful. 

Many still carry the feeling that they owe it to their fellow humans to give to the point of imbalanced overgiving, because it is for one thing difficult to see others suffer, and for another, hard to shake off centuries of learned self-negation.

We would say that this is indeed a time when many look out onto the world and see many in despair, weighted by experiences of hunger, homelessness, and unemployment, of illness or environmental destruction, and other dense situations.

And it is very easy to move from a moment of viewing those circumstances to feeling the compulsion to save or rescue those in difficulty.

And certainly, to help out here or there with solid advice, financial contribution, a meal, or smile or kind word of encouragement—all of that is a beautiful moment of connection with another.

In that moment you are sharing something.

They have blessed you with the chance to give, and you have blessed them with the chance to receive. 

You are not fooling yourself that you are taking away their pain in any complete way.

And yet—your kindness reassures them that they are worthy to receive, and are gathering to them the tools and resources needed to stand on their own, to be well again or housed or employed again, to believe in themselves and their life path again.

A beautiful thing indeed!

And you yourself have realized that you are also Abundant; that you have plenty to give and plenty to feel wonderful about.

This is especially true when you are not feeling particularly Abundant, and for example, decide to give regularly 10 percent of all the money that comes to you as a gift and encouragement to a group or individual that inspires you with their work.

That number of 10 being the number of increase, you then bless your own situation—your income, your health, your relationships, and more—with the steady outflow of money that is simply a form of life energy.

The imbalance comes from the belief that giving should be compulsive or come from a need to rescue another.

We would agree with the channelings above, that the rescue idea, based on the victim/savior paradigm, is an idea whose time has well passed.

It is a belief based in scarcity teachings, and on self-denial, that says, “Others are more valuable than me. More worthy of Joy and fulfillment, while I am worthy of self-sacrifice.”

This is a strange and demanding time to be on the planet, and so you will need to watch your emotional and mental vibration, friends, as well as your etheric vibration, so that you do not shift either into despair or into “rescue mode.”

You can avoid that by sending higher Light to any person or place that appears to be suffering now, such as to the populations of California facing extreme fires, among other western states.

Send Light to their people, trees and wildlife, their homes, schools, and hospitals.

Send Light to the people of Beirut and their whole country of Lebanon as they rebuild themselves after disaster.

Send Light to those who are ill, or fearful for a loved one who is ill. 

Light to those afraid of becoming unemployed, or who have done so, and are not receiving adequate income.

Light to those not able to make their rent or mortgage, or pay for health insurance.

Certainly you do not have the outer resources to make all this, and all of Earth’s other pains and challenges, suddenly fade away.

Yet you can envision all of these situations solved, just as you can envision NESARA Law fully enacted, and all persons living in Abundant and fulfilling circumstances.

You are correct if you are thinking that all will not be ironed out overnight.

Yet know that were you in the etheric, viewing Earth from the distance of being no longer in physical life, you would do no less.

You would not have the luxury of “rescuing” others, and would have to work with them energetically, as they were open to such, in order to assist them.

Recall from deep within you your complete confidence in energetic solutions that find their way outward to physical ones, and draw on that experience.

Assisted by your spirit guides and higher self, you are perfectly suited to help to transform your world, yet in ways that simply empower and encourage others, rather than take them off of their path.

The time to look for saviors and rescuers is well over, friends.

You have come in to learn how to love and trust yourselves and your own higher instincts. You lead the way in that path, as in so many others.

And so allow that particular kind of Joy and relief from heavy burdens, by letting go of that which is not yours to carry.

Care about others, most assuredly.

Yet grant that they are powerful enough (perhaps, far more so than you!) to create their own solutions, and that your love for them points that out, with complete confidence in all they are able to transform.

Namaste, friends! So much Joy awaits you, and begins to unfold for you now.

We are with you, always.

.

Copyright 2020, Caroline Oceana Ryan

If you repost, please maintain the integrity of this information by reprinting it exactly as you find it here, and including the link to the original post.

Thank you.

******

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The dark has been cleared, fully defeated and New Earth, Nova Terra, is ready to begin. This requires each Being to fully clear the remaining density within their bodies, to awaken to full remembrance of their Galactic Truth, their Soul Essence, their Divine Blueprint.

This is not a Drill, in Real Time, Present Moment of Now Mother of All Creation is on the Planet and she is Our Divine Director, Our Eternal Mother. She hired you for this role and She is here to guide you.

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[talpup]

Light In the Darkness:70

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 70

“Alowishus Spade.  I believe I told you, next time I saw you I’d kill you.” Morris, the Warrior King of the Diamond Kingdom greeted.

Calen looked at his Master for signal that he should act.  When none came he turned back to the King the tension never leaving his shoulders.

“Death cannot be killed.”  Alowishus stated, calmly.

“I have several Magical Investigators who would kill for a chance to test that theory.”  Morris said.

“We both know you won’t.  Not with me being proven correct.” Alowishus said.

“I wouldn’t call your theories correct.”  Morris said.

“The Light and Darkness have come.  You heard of their first clash same as everyone.  Even made deal with my Chief Servant before he died.” Alowishus frowned at the reminder of Erskin's death.

“A deal you rescinded.”  Morris said.

“A deal I never personally agreed to.”  Alowishus challenged

Ignoring the irksome detail, Morris said.  “I never denied the existence of light and dark magic users.  Or that their existence doesn’t interest me.  But that hardly means you are correct about the rest.”

“Did you not see the sky light up the morning of the Summer Solstice?” Alowishus questioned.

Morris nodded.  “I did.  It was a great and terrible display of power that the Clover Kingdom currently has at their disposal.”

“My disposal!”  Alowishus snapped.  “Those in the Clover Kingdom know nothing of their true power.  Of how to access it.  Of what beauty and destruction they are capable of.  I made that happen.  I alone control Yami and Teris.”

“All the more reason for me to kill you.”  Morris said.

“What do you want?”  Alowishus asked.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what it will cost for you to have it.”  Morris responded.

Alowishus glared.  He could end King Morris’ life here and now but that would only cause further war and problems as the Diamond Kingdom would be thrown into chaos.  Funny how all his life he had been trying to wake Chaos so he could bring about death and destruction and yet here he was trying to prevent such things from happening.

Summoning his control and patience, Alowishus told.  “It is my understanding that the skirmishes to the southeast and southwest are nothing but a diversion.”

“What?” Morris questioned.

“That there are three small teams of Magic Knights currently making their way here to your seat of power.”  The Master of Chaos went on.

“What!” The King stormed.

“The Wizard King believes that this war you instigated Kira Clover into was done solely for the purpose of boredom and desire to keep your Warriors sharp.”  Alowishus said.

“Jorah’s not half wrong.”  Morris admitted.

Alowishus smirked at the easily read nature of the Diamond Kingdoms ruler. “That if they can get a team of Magic Knights here that you will agree to peace.”

Morris tilted his head considering.  “Possibly.”

Leveling his gaze on the King, Alowishus said.  “I am asking you to agree. To do as Jorah believes you will.  Make peace.  Give Kira Clover his meager sign of repentance for crossing his border in pursuit of the Spade Kingdoms Sorcery Lances a year ago.”

“You mean the skirmish that you instigated?”  Morris put in.

Alowishus smiled at that.  “Your network still keeps you as informed as ever.”

“You had your doubts?”  The King questioned.

“Well, you did sound rather surprised that the battles were a distraction and three teams of Magic Knights were headed this way.”  Alowishus remarked.

Morris ignored that.  “I know you leave nothing to chance but I’m sure there’s more you want.”

Alowishus watch the King closely.  “True.  And I’m asking that you don’t take it when it arrives.”

Morris raised a brow.

“The Light Magic user.  Teris Nova.  She is among one of the teams headed this way.”  Alowishus informed.

Morris grinned at that, eyes dancing.  “Is she now?”

“You can’t have her.  Not yet.”  The Master of Chaos said.

“This is my kingdom.  I can have whatever I like.”  Morris declared, wondering which of his Investigators he should hand Teris over to first.

Alowishus took a breath.  He and the King went back a long way.  He and the mans father having gone back even further before his passing. “Morris.  Please.”

The King’s eyes focused on Alowishus.  “You’ve never pleaded before.”

“She is that important.”  Alowishus admitted.  “I will give her to you for a time.  In time.”

“We’ve had this deal and you broke it.”

“I didn’t make that deal.”  Alowishus told the King.  “You have my personal word.  I will let you have at Teris Nova.  I will even see that you have three entire days with her without Clover threatening war for her return.”

Morris’ eyes narrowed, tempted.

“I’ll also send you my knowledge and findings on her and what she is capable of.  Just don’t take her.  Not now.  Not yet.”

“What’s so important about now?”  Morris questioned.

“The second ceremony has yet to be done.  They are unbalanced.  Weakened to a point.  But raw and all the more dangerous if pushed because of it.  If you take her now and begin experimenting, she could lose control to the force that’s within her.  Thus ending the world.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”  Morris asked, wryly.

“I want to bring about a new existence.”  Alowishus said.

Morris smirked.  “You’ve repeated that lie to your followers so many times it sounds like you’re beginning to believe it yourself.  You forget.  My Father knew of your plans.  Therefore I know of your plans.  Your true plans.”

Calen glanced at his Master.

“You truly are paranoid.”  Alowishus said.

“Fine.” Morris allowed, not pushing the matter in front of Alowishus’ man. “I’ll delay taking the girl if and when she shows herself.  But you must agree to letting me have her within a years time.  Whether your second ceremony is completed or not.”

Alowishus inclined his head.  The next ceremony would happen on the Winter Solstice and see the revival of the Harbinger of Darkness.  If Teris hadn’t gotten a hold of her own mana by then, the release of the Light Bringer should help level out Teris’ mana enough for her to manage three days of experimentation without losing herself.

“And, I want all you have on the both of them.  Immediately.”  Morris added.

“Don’t kill her.”  Alowishus said, mildly concerned about what Morris planned on doing once he got a hold of Teris.

Morris gave a derisive scoff.  “I’m not going to kill her.  Not if she’s half as strong as you claim she is.  She should survive just fine.”

“Then we’re agreed.  Peace with the Clover Kingdom.  And you allow Teris Nova to return home with her comrades.”

“And I get everything you have on them now.  And three days with Teris in my possession within a years time.”  Morris said.

Alowishus nodded.

Morris smiled.  “I’m glad I didn’t kill you on sight.”  He stood and made his way toward the other man, everyone in the throne room relaxing.

“I already told you.  You wouldn’t be able to.”  Alowishus stated.

Morris huffed.  “I’m sure one of my Investigators could manage to figure something out.  Come.  Let us go somewhere less formal to visit while we wait for these Magic Knights to arrive at my doorstep.  No doubt you are wishing to stay to make certain I uphold my end of the agreement.”

70.2

Bronn kicked Yami awake.  Yami grabbed his katana and got to his feet, ready to head out again.

“This is getting tedious.”  Yami growled.

“Good thing it’s over then.”  Bronn said.

Yami looked back at the Vice Captain then around at the battlefield where Magic Knights and the Diamond Kingdoms Magic Warriors were separating.

“They got there.”  Yami said, in amazed relief.  “And it actually worked!”

“Yeah.” Bronn sighed, looking out over the field.  “I had my doubts Sir Jorah was right but it seems the man knew what he was talking about. War’s over.”

“And Teris?”  Yami asked.

“Easy there thick staff.”  Bronn calmed.  “You’re waiting for marriage anyway.  Got some hand exercises to do before it’s safe for you to see that girl again.  Besides, don’t you have a payment to return before that buddy of yours that was hired to kill you comes calling?”

Bronn still couldn’t believe their luck with that.  Who would have guessed that Yami’s long ago friend was a leader of a gang of hired killers?  Well Bronn could easily believe it.  In fact he had long ago surmised that Yami had been running with a bunch of low lives before Julius came across him.  That much he and Yami had in common. But to be lucky enough that his friend was hired this time around when Yami was transported off alone.  Not to mention that Yami and the guy had left things on good enough terms that the man hadn’t wanted to kill Yami all the more on sight.  If Bronn were the superstitious sort he would have said Yami had nine lives but even then Yami would've used them all up by now.  Suffice it to say someone or something wanted Yami Sukehiro alive.

“You do have enough on hand to cover the cost of your life.  Don’t you?” Bronn asked.

“Not on hand but at home.  Yeah.”  Yami said.

“That’s what I meant.  Fool.”  Bronn snapped.

“What? You’re saying you’re gonna take me?  Now?”  Yami asked.

“With peace made, now’s as good as ever.”  Bronn said.  “Don’t need anyone else coming after you.  I already cleared our absence with the She-Lion.  Let’s go.”

Yami looked over the dry, rocky expanse he knew so well by now but couldn’t wait to forget.  “If I never enter the Diamond Kingdom again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Oh, you’ll enter it again.  Especially if you take my position once I’m gone.”  Bronn looked at Yami as they entered the portal and stepped into the Black Bulls great room.  “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Leave that place?  Heck yeah.”  Yami answered.

Now Bronn was positive Yami was purposefully misinterpreting his questions.  He tried not to let it get under his skin certain that was what Yami wanted.

Despite his efforts, Bronn growled.  “Be the one to return the money to Lord Silva.  Doing so could make things a whole lot worse.”

“I’m not looking to make things better between us.”  Yami said.

“Then what?”  Bronn questioned.

“I want to look him in the eye.”  Yami answered.

“And?” The Vice Captain asked, exasperated with the younger mans unhelpful responses.

Yami shrugged.  “That’s all.”

“Fine. Then get that girl of yours to take you to one of those fancy royal balls they always seem to have.  You can look Silva in the eye all you want there.”

Yami shook his head.  “Not the same.”

Bronn sighed, understanding.  This was nothing more than a cock sizing contest.  Yami wanted to look Nathyn Silva in the eye, drop the money in front of him, and all but dare the royal to try again.  Trouble was a man like Nathyn Silva would try again, only he would adjust his strategy.  One that Yami didn’t see coming and had no hope of coming out of.

Bronn knew Jax wouldn’t have allowed it.  The Captain would forbid Yami from doing it.  He would order Yami not to go and then order Bronn to watch the arrogant fool to make sure he obeyed.  Jax would have him tie Yami up.  Knock him out.  Send him to the Healers even.  Anything to keep Yami well away from wherever Nathyn Silva was currently residing while someone else saw the funds were returned.

“Go on.  Go fetch your money.”  Bronn urged.

When Yami returned, Bronn shook his head.  He truly hadn’t believed it when Yami said he had ten thousand yules on hand.  “What were you planning on doing with such a sum, boy!”

Yami eyed the pouch of coins he held and answered.  “Essence rings are expensive.”

Bronn closed his eyes somewhat pained for the man.  Shaking his head, he muttered.  “Saving up for wedding bands.”

Yami shrugged a shoulder.  “Kind of traditional like that.”

“You? Traditional?”  Bronn scoffed.

“In some things.”  Yami admitted.  “When I first heard about essence rings I liked the idea.  Don’t understand why no one uses them anymore.”

“Cause they’re a costly sum.  Even a noble wouldn’t spend that much without thought.”  Bronn said.

“But not even they or the royals use them anymore.”  Yami said, wondering why.

“Yeah well, essence rings hold a literal piece of someones magic.  It ties people together in a way--”  Bronn shook his head.  “I’d love to carry a piece of Gilly around with me like that.  Know she was well and safe just because her magic in the essence ring I wore wasn’t agitated and still in there.  Folk higher up the class ladder.  They marry who they’re told to.  Not who they love.  Such a tie to someone that is nothing more than a means for the family’s prosperity or continuation is likely nothing more than an uncomfortable nuisance.”

Thinking that he would have to put most of his pay way again until he recovered the amount, Yami sighed.  “I’m going to miss gambling--”

Yami didn’t get to finish the statement let alone react to the sense of Bronn’s magical attack.  He fell over unconscious.

Looking down at him, Bronn apologized.  “Sorry kid.  I understand your need to look the bastard in the eye.  But Jax wouldn’t like it.”  He frowned, sour taste in his mouth as he bent to pick up the bag of money meant for future wedding bands.  Maybe it was because he was engaged and set to be married, but it didn’t feel right.  He felt bad for Yami and hated the Lord Silva all the more.  Disgusted with himself, he stood and muttered.  “I really am getting too old for this if I’m starting to feel things and get a conscience.”  To the unconscious Yami, he told.  “I’ll see this to Silva for you. We’ll call it payment for you saving my hide out there.”

70.3

Morris entered the room he had left Alowishus and the mans follower in. “Well?  I had my Warriors stand down nearly forty minutes ago yet there is still no sign of any of the three teams of Magic Knights you said were on their way.”

Alowishus smiled.  “There’s a team watching your throne room from afar as we speak.”

“And you know this how?  Some of your easily swayed believers secretly following them?  Sending you reports?”  Morris asked.

“If only.  Sadly the two sent to watch after Teris Nova weren’t up to the task.”  Alowishus said.

Morris tisked with distaste.  “I don’t stand for failure.”

“Neither do I.”  Alowishus said.  He looked over at Calen who had been ordered to inform Beast of what to do with the two found followers. As for the one who had sent the two, thinking they had been up to the task.  Alowishus would deal with them personally.

Alowishus felt a sharp pain behind his eyes.  While he could look through the eyes of the dead, whether they be human or animal; it was a draining, painful endeavor that never failed to make him want to gouge his own eyes out.  He closed the link with the dead bird.  He had seen all he needed.  Teris and her team were here.  Soon she would enter the throne room and then be sent back to the Clover Kingdom where she could continue in relative safety until the time of the Harbingers Awakening.

The Master of Chaos turned back to the Warrior King.  “I’d take your seat upon your throne.”

70.3.2

Randall jumped from the tree, his air magic buffeting his descent.  Quickly, he made his way back to the group.  “Wasn’t King Morris suppose to be out fighting alongside his Magic Warriors?”

Nozel nodded.  “That’s what everyone thought.  He isn’t?”

Randall shook his head.  “He just entered the throne room.”

“This changes nothing.  Our orders still stand.”  Fuegoleon said.

“True enough.”  Nozel agreed, but it might change how they went about this.

“We still need to get in there.”  Teris said.  Thinking that what she really needed was to get out of this cursed land.  In the two days since getting captured, waking up in a cell, and being attacked Teris had returned to her usual self, mostly.  While the others had the constant reminder of her bruised face.  It was Teris’ blood stained clothes that acted as an ever present reminder to her.  She needed to get out of them, and incinerate them, then take a long cleansing bath.

Anyone within a foot of her would likely agree on that last part.  They all stunk.  What made matters worse was they knew they did but had long since stopped smelling it.  One would think that was a good thing and in one way it was.  But it only added to their tired, grimy, itchy feeling and need to have a good proper bath.

“Can you get us in there?”  Nozel asked her.

“All of us?”  Teris questioned, brows rose.

The acting Captain nodded.

Teris looked at them.  After escaping, Nozel hadn’t cared one lick about the order to not use their magic unless necessary.  That had surprised her given how rule oriented he constantly was.  But after all that had happened she assumed Nozel, like the rest of them, wanted out of the Diamond Kingdom as quickly as possible.

Nozel and Randall had taken turns flying them.  Fuegoleon was fully capable of creating a fiery lion, which strangely didn’t burn but was just warm, to hurry their travel along as well.  But Nozel had been against that.  While Zara still laid his traps at every camp they made, all Fuegoleon had been allowed to do magic wise was start a fire to cook their food or super heat some rocks to keep them warm through the night.  Teris had been allowed to do even less.  She was the only one that had used absolutely no magic throughout the mission.  Her full reserve of mana could certainly take them all along with her.  The question was would they be blind and burned when they got there.  An idea struck her.

Teris turned to the Purple Orca.  “Zara, can you make a sort of light barrier trap?  Like a day to night type thing that’ll leave whoever’s in it--”

“Blinded by the dark.”  Zara said smiling.  “I like how you think.  I got just the thing.”

“You want us to purposefully step into one of Zara’s traps.”  Nozel said, understanding where she was going with this.

Teris looked to him and told.  “Being blinded by darkness for a couple of seconds is better than chancing the possibly being blind forever. It’s your fault, Captain.”

“How’s that?”  Nozel demanded.

While Teris had kept her promise, and listened and obeyed his commands; she was still what Nozel considered borderline insubordinate with her comments and ways.  They may have found a sort of peaceful working relationship.  But it was one Nozel didn’t care for, and would hope to remedy if he ever had command over her again.

Eyes tinted with humor, Teris reminded.  “You’re the one that instructed me not to use my magic, sir.  If I wasn’t full up with mana we may not have needed Zara’s trap magic as a buffer.”

Nozel gritted his teeth.  He wanted to tell her that just because she added ‘sir’ at the end of a sentence didn’t make it respectful.

“We’ll be left blinded and squinting going from such dark to whatever light is in the throne room.”  Fuegoleon said, not liking that they’d be left open and defenseless for however long it took their eyes to adjust.

“Still better than the four of you being blinded long term.  It’s not like we have a healer with us or could easily get to one.”  Teris said.

Fuegoleon couldn’t argue with that.  He was just doing his job as Vice Captain, making the variables known so his Captain could make the best decision.

Since it was his magic, Teris was certain that Zara was aware of the same possibility she was.  That his spell might cancel out more than her light but the travel aspect as well, thus leaving the four men behind.  Sure that it was Zara’s place in society that kept him from speaking up, she felt like a hypocrite for taking advantage of his deference.  But they needed to get this done.  And if Nozel was made aware that there was the slightest chance she might be left traveling to the throne room alone, he would nix the idea.

Choosing to focus on the just as unsavory possibility that knew Nozel was willing to chance, Teris said.  “I don’t know exactly how Zara’s spell and my light travel will interact.  It may fully block my light.  Or, it may not block any at all.  In which case, sorry if I permanently blind anyone.”

Randall scowled.  “Not funny, Teris.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.  I really would be sorry.”  Teris told.

Ever the optimist, Zara said.  “Or it could work exactly as we hope.  In which case just enough light will get through the trap so we’re not going from total darkness to the light of the throne room.”

Teris looked at Nozel.  “What say you, Captain?”

Nozel stared at her certain her query was more of a challenge.  Still, they were so close to achieving their objective.  The fact that they had managed to get here before the other two teams, despite the full days delay of their capture, likely had everything to do with him and Randall flying them; something Nozel refused to apologize for if and when the time came.  They weren’t suppose to wait for the other teams.  Their orders were for the first team to arrive to enter the throne room as quickly as they could.

Nozel looked at the royal castle which was more of a fort and nothing like the beautiful palaces of the Clover Kingdom.  He hoped this plan worked and the war could be called off so easily.  Magic Knights were fighting, falling while he sat here taking his time trying to decide what to do.  And during all of this his beloved Clover Kingdom was left with a depleted force.  Unprotected.

“Zara, make the trap.”  Nozel ordered.

70.3.3

There was a flash of light that left Morris momentarily blinded.  The Warrior King stood.  Still seeing spots, he demanded as if nothing was wrong with him.  “Who dares enter my hall!”

“Magic Knights of the Clover Kingdom, Your Majesty.”  Nozel said, repeating the words the Captain's of the three teams had been instructed to say; though he had never expected to be addressing them to the Warrior King himself as he said them.  “We hope our arrival has surprised and proven us a worthy and formidable foe.”

Morris smiled, his sight clearing.  He looked at his Warriors, seeing that many were either blinded or still seeing spots though they hid the fact well enough.  He couldn’t help but wonder how things would've turned out if Alowishus hadn’t come and made his deal, telling him what to expect.

“It has at that.”  Morris said.  He eyes fell on the sole female of the group.  Teris Nova.  The Light Magic user.  One half of the destructive force that could obliterate a city or possibly the entire world.  She was smaller than he imagined though stood no less proudly than such a power had the right to.

Teris looked stared back into the King’s eyes wondering if she should lower her gaze in respect.  No, she thought.  This wasn’t King Agustus.  This was King Morris.  A Warrior who had fought and won the right to sit the throne and who had kept it all these years by his might alone.

Morris smirked when the girl didn’t look away like some timid Clover Kingdom royal afraid to look a king in the eye.

“Your Majesty,” Nozel went on, “we have come in the hope--”

Morris waved dismissively, cutting him off.  “I know why you have come. I’ve been expecting your arrival.”  He smiled at their surprise. Was he getting old?  This group appeared to be comprised of nothing but children save for one who looked to defer to all of the others. Morris focused on the young man who had spoken and told.  “Peace was made over an hour ago.  The question now is, will we keep that peace.”

“I—I do not understand, Your Majesty.”  Nozel said, feeling cast adrift without a rope.

The acting Captain had never been instructed on such a scenario.  Had never gone over such a probability in his own mind.  And Nozel had gone over countless possibilities.  The war was already over?  Peace had made.  All before they had arrived.  He would have thought one of the other teams had gotten here before them; but the crystal the three Captain's carried was still intact telling him that neither Jax or Jamie had arrived and been successful.  Had Commander Greywright or Julius met King Morris on the battlefield and somehow made peace that way?  Had diplomacy worked out through Sir Jorah in the end?

“I can’t see what you’re incapable of understanding.  Peace between our two kingdoms has been made.  The fighting has ceased.  Your fellow Magic Knights to the southeast and southwest are returning home.”  Morris looked to Teris.  “All you need to do to insure we stay at peace is speak with me for, shall we say, ten minutes?  After that you and your comrades, as well as the other two squads somewhere out in my kingdom can return home and things can return to how they once were.  With the occasional small skirmishes between our peoples and a general distrust.  What say you?”

“I agree.  I will speak with you.”  Nozel said, keenly aware that the King had been speaking to Teris.

Morris turned his eyes one him.  Did the fool think himself clever?  “I was speaking to the Lady.”

“I’m the Captain of this squad.  Anything you wish to talk about can be done with me.”  Nozel said.

“I assure you, Captain.  It cannot.”  Morris said.

“Why is that?”  Nozel questioned, despite already knowing.

Maybe Morris was lying, Nozel thought.  Maybe there was no peace and the war continued as they spoke.  Maybe all the King wanted was to get Teris somewhere easier to capture.  They had light traveled in here easily enough so escaping that way would likely be just as easy.

Temper rising, Morris warned.  “Don’t test me, boy.”  He looked at Teris.  “He may be your Captain but I have a feeling you have a mind of your own.  What say you?  A ten minute civilized conversation for continued peace?  Or silence and war?”

Teris studied the Warrior King, wishing that she was capable of sensing a persons Ki like Yami.  “Can you prove to us that peace truly has been made?”

“Teris!” Nozel snapped.

Morris’ smile grew.  “Not in anyway that would completely satisfy you that I’m telling the truth.  But isn’t some sort of trust needed to make and keep a peace.”

“Are you telling me that out of all these Magic Warriors you have standing about not a single one is Spatial Mage?”  Teris asked.

“Teris!” Nozel censured again, grabbing her by the elbow.

The King laughed.  “I like you!  It’s a shame I can’t keep you, yet.”

Morris saw the girl blink, a hint of worry and fear melting into her dark eyes.  He smirked at how the four men she was with stepped protectively toward her.

“Calm yourselves.”  Morris commanded the Magic Knights.  “I said I wasn’t keeping her.  Drake!”  He called to his Spatial Mage.

Drake stepped forward, saluting.  “My King.”

Morris laughed again.  He looked at Teris and tilted his head to his man. “You’ve blinded him.  Let us hope he can get us to what was the southeast battlefield without his sight.”

“I can, my King.”  Drake said, hoping he could.  He knew what failure meant.  And there were plenty of other Spatial Mages eager to take his place.

“Then do so.”  Morris commanded.

Teris and the others looked at the portal unsure if it truly led where the King claimed.

“I would say ladies first but I see you are still doubtful.”  Morris said.  “Anyone in here able to see?”  He asked, voice carrying a dangerous undertone.

“I can, my King.”  A man said, stepping forward only partially lying. Though spotting covered most of his vision, he could manage.

“Go tell the Magic Knights Commander I have five Magic Knights in my throne room eager to see him.”  Morris ordered.

The man saluted.  “Yes, my King.”

They waited silently, looking at the still open gateway.  Finally, Greywright stepped through followed by the man sent to fetch him. The portal closed.

“Captain Nozel.”  Greywright greeted, unsure what circumstance he had walked in on.

Nozel stepped forward.  “Commander.  Forgive me, Sir.  But has the war ended?”

“It is.”  Greywright answered, confused.  When Morris had pulled back his Warriors, he had figured one of the three squads had made it and successfully sued for peace.

Morris turned back to Teris.  “Well, my Lady?”

“Sir, His Majesty has announced that he wishes to speak with Senior Magic Knight Teris and that if this does not happen the peace will end.” Nozel quickly informed the Knights Commander.

Greywright turned to the Diamond Kingdoms King.

“It’s true.  All I want is a simple conversation no longer than ten minutes or so.”  Morris told.

“And if you do not have this simple, short conversation you will continue the war we just ceased?”  Greywright questioned.

“I will.”  Morris affirmed.

Greywright frowned.  “I knew you had an interest in them,” he said referring to Yami and Teris, “and a constant thirst for battle.  But to be willing to continue with war if you’re denied a mere ten minute conversation...”

Morris tilted his head.  “One could say the same for you, Commander.  I’ve heard you were a man who fights to protect the peace.  Are you really going to restart this war because you won’t allow me a simple ten minute conversation?”

“Of course not.  But, I’ll be present.”  Greywright said.

“Don’t trust me, Commander?”

Of course Greywright didn’t trust the King, and Morris knew it.  But he could hardly tell the man so.

“Don’t want to have to mess with hearing her report when there’s so much else to do.”  Greywright said.

Though Morris knew that was far from the Commander’s reasoning, he appreciated that is was still in part true.  “Fair enough.”

“Nozel, break your crystal.”  Greywright commanded.

Nozel did as the Knights Commander ordered, breathing a sigh of relief.  He didn’t like Teris having to speak with the King but at least Commander Greywright would be there.  The war was over.  They could return home and begin to put this all behind them.  Strange as it sounded, he was looking forward to no longer having everyone looking and answering to him.  He still wanted and would one day become Captain of the Silver Eagles.  But if anything, this had proved just how much more he needed to learn and experience before he was ready for such a role.

“Drake.” Morris commanded.

“Yes, my King.”  Drake created a portal back to what had been the southeast battlefield.

Greywright ordered.  “Nozel, take your squad through and find Captain Mereoleona.  Teris, with me.”

“If your command tent is still up we can go through and have the discussion there.”  Morris offered, feeling generous.  No doubt the watching Alowishus would be put mildly on edge with that.  Unable to listen in.  But it would also serve to put Teris at ease allowing him to get a better gauge of the girl.

Greywright gestured Teris through the portal.  “Your Majesty is too kind.”

“No. I’m not.  But my humor is high so best take advantage of it while you can.  You,”  Morris looked at the one who had gone through the first portal to fetch the Magic Knights Commander, “assist Drake through and wait.”

Morris turned back and walked through the portal, following the Magic Knights Commander to his command tent.

70.4

Yami woke to the harsh sound of Bronn’s voice yelling at someone. Slowly, he turned his head his neck stiff from the awkward position it had been in for so long.  Rolling onto his back he looked about.

“Glad to see you’re awake.  I was going to move you.  At least position you better.  But Bronn wouldn’t allow it.  Sorry.”  Gendry said, standing over him.

Yami snarled.  “Where is the bastard?”

“Who? Bronn?”  Gendry questioned.

Just then Bronn entered.

Yami was on his feet and racing toward the Vice Captain at ramming speed. “You--”

“Yami!” Julius hollered, seeing the younger man about to slam into the Vice Captain.

Yami skidded to a halt.

“Good timing there, Julius.  Was afraid I was gonna have to kill the little bugger.”  Bronn said, giving Julius a nod.

“Where is it?”  Yami demanded.

“Exactly where you were going to take it.”  Bronn answered.  “It’s done.”

“It wasn’t yours to do!”  Yami shouted.

“What’s this?”  Julius questioned, sternly.  He moved to stand between the two men, his expression firm and commanding.

“Nothing.” Yami and Bronn said in unison.

“At least you two can agree on something.  Sadly it’s lying to me.” Julius said.

Yami looked at his mentor.  “It wasn’t--”  He stopped.  While it technically wasn’t a lie if thought of in a certain way he wasn’t going to try to further and explain the deception to the man he respected and looked up to.

Bronn on the other hand had no qualms about furthering any deception or lies, and told.  “Kid’s just riled up is all.  Hungry spear. Once he gets a hold of his girl he’ll be--”  At the angry flush on Julius’ face, Bronn paused.  “That’s right.  Your his girls brother.  Excuse me.”

The mirrored glares of Julius and Yami watched Bronn exit the house.

Julius turned back to Yami.  “What was that?”

“I swear.  There’s been no spears involved with Teris and I.”  Yami told.

“I know that.”  Julius snapped.

The Captain cleared his throat.  At least he hoped he knew that.  Teris may go her own way on a lot of thing; but waiting till marriage was something Julius always saw her doing.  It was more than his own hopes for her as an older brother.  Teris was somewhat traditional in that aspect.  As for Yami, Julius figured that Yami respected Teris and him too much to press her for such a thing.  Though it certainly helped that Yami had once told him he wanted to wait until married.

“I meant you charging at your Vice Captain like that.”  Julius clarified.

Yami shrugged.  “Man’s an ass.”

Julius looked away, finding such truth difficult to deny.  “That’s besides the point.  He’s your Vice Captain.”

“Not for long.”  Yami said.

“Yami.” Julius chastised.

Yami straightened and lowered his eyes.

“Fine. I don’t have the time to pull it out of you.  But, I will be mention this to Jax.”  Julius told.

Yami could live with that.  The Black Bulls Captain was use to this sort of thing between him and Bronn.  Chances are Jax wouldn’t question the incident; too grateful that he and Bronn hadn’t killed each other out there.

“Teris?” Yami questioned.

Julius’ expression softened.  “At Headquarters.  Their team did good.  They were the the ones who reached the capital.  They’re the reason we’re back at peace.”

Yami grinned, proud.  “Never doubted her.”

“It’ll be a while before she and Jax return.  The rest of your squad will be coming in over time.  You should wash and rest up while you can.” Julius suggested.

Already got plenty of rest that thanks to Bronn, Yami thought darkly.  Still, he nodded for Julius’ sake.

“Good man.”  Julius smiled, giving Yami’s shoulder at pat.

Before the Captain could turn and go outside where he could time jump, Yami called.  “Julius.  Just in case you didn’t know.  Being on the southwest side and all,  There was an incident.  A couple actually. I worked it out with the Lion—Mereo—”

“Captain.” Julius prompted.

“—Captain Mereoleona.”  Yami said, taking the correction.  “Everything was find after that.  The other—that worked out okay too.”

Julius smiled with a soft sadness.  He didn’t know what Yami was referring to, but was glad Yami had made it through the battles and was home safely.  “The next few days will be hectic.  But I’ll try to make it by before the month is up.  Suffice it to say, no belated birthday excursions till things completely settle.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Julius gripped Yami’s shoulder.  He wanted so badly to pull him into a hug, but knew that would make the other man uncomfortable.  Yami wasn’t one for such expressions of fondness.  At least not with anyone other than Teris it seemed.

70.5

“Sit.” Greywright instructed Nozel and his squad.  “Someone will come and bring you to in shortly.”

Nozel watched the Magic Knights Commander turn and enter the War Room.  He figured that his position as acting Captain ended when they had returned to the Clover Kingdom.  Not that he was overly sorry about that.  He was sure Teris and Fuegoleon were glad for it too.  Though Fuegoleon had been an exceptional Vice Captain.  Even so, Nozel was sure that answering to him couldn’t have been easy for the Vermillion.

Taking a seat beside his cousin, Fuegoleon asked her.  “What did King Morris want?”

Staring at the door Greywright had disappeared behind, Teris complained.  “We don’t even get a bath?  A proper meal?  At least a change of clothes!”

“Teris.”

Teris turned to Fuegoleon.

“What did King Morris want?”  He asked again.

Only sitting because the Knights Commander had ordered it, Nozel looked at Teris out of the corner of his eye.

Teris shrugged.

“Don’t give me that.”  Fuegoleon snapped.  “You were in there with him for ten minutes.”

“So was Greywright.”  Teris said.

“The King didn’t request to speak with Commander Greywright.  Morris wanted to speak to you.  Quit being difficult.”  Randall said, just as curious as the rest of them.

Teris shrugged a shoulder.  “Regular stuff I guess.  It was kind of weird.”

Nozel’s eyes narrowed.  “What sort of regular stuff?”

Teris sighed and turned to the Silver Eagle.  “Not you too.”  When Nozel merely stared, she repeated.  “Regular stuff.  How did I like being a Magic Knight.  Was it all I expected.  Did I miss my father. How were I and the family adjusting.  Did I have many friends.  Were they all nobles and royals.  Why did I choose to accept the Black Bulls invitation to join their squad.”

“He was trying to get to know you.”  Randall said, wondering at that.

Nozel and Fuegoleon shared a look.  It was odd enough, but somewhat explainable that King Morris would know about Lord Jaxon Nova’s death.  But for him to know the details of how Teris became a Black Bull...

“I suppose.”  Teris murmured.  While most of King Morris’ questions were simple.  They felt weirdly invasive.  His knowledge about certain details of her life had been unnerving.  And his final question.  However did he know about her unwillingness to wed Nozel to the point that she was willing to be banished?

’Would you consider coming to live here?’  Morris’ last question echoed in her mind.  Thankfully Commander Greywright had called time.  The ten minutes which had seemed to drag on forever apparently finally up.  She had thought that Morris would press for answer.  But instead the King had smiled. ‘When the time comes, know that I would accept you and Yami into my kingdom. Such powerful weapons would be a welcome addition to my ranks.’

“I don’t know if I could have managed without Greywright there.” Teris said.

Nozel sat back, looking forward.  “Well, it’s over now.  It all is.”

Nozel wondered what lingering emotional effects Teris would have from the attack and for how long.  As fine as she appeared Nozel knew something like that just didn’t go away.  He wanted to reassure her.  Tell her he was there for her no matter what she needed.  But he wasn’t sure how to say it without calling attention to the event they all wanted to put behind them.

At least Fuegoleon had told Teris that he had killed the man.  It felt wrong taking credit for it.  But Nozel understood how Teris knowing she had ended the mans life would further harm and delay her recovery.  They would have to tell what had happened during their report.  The lie that he had broken the man’s neck, ending his life, being written and filed away forever as truth.  As much as that bothered him, Nozel would lie to anyone, even the King or his own father, if it spared Teris further distress about the experience. She was to be his wife.  Her image, and emotional and physical state reflected on the image of House Silva.  Moreover, Nozel loved her. As hard as he fought to lessen that love, thinking it would ease the hurt of her unreturned affection, he had been unable to.  If anything Nozel loved Teris more now than when they had first become Magic Knights.

A Clerk opened the door to the War Room.  “Your Highness.”  Seeing three royals, two of which were Prince’s from the second and third leading families, the Clerk paused.  “Your Highness’.  Sir Jorah has called for you.”

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

So I decided not to participate in No Content November.  Though that may eventually leave me without a stockpile of finished chapters; and you all in the same boat as those who read my BNHA fics (stuck in a post as I write scenario).  I hope not.  But only time will tell.

Next chapter snippet:

Yami pulled away leaving her wanting more, smirking at the look of disappointment in her sweet face.  That’ll help you forget and focused on better things and keep you coming back, he thought to her. Thing was could he withstand it long enough till she full returned to herself.  He had to.  Teris was worth it, and deserved his support and patience.  He’d surpass his limits of desire for her and hold out for as long as it took.

[hearteyes-candyskies]

bitter blooms (yandere aizawa x reader)

a/n; retelling of hades and persephone

1.8k words

-------

The sun glints in your hair the first time he sees you, casting a halo of light on your otherworldly face. It blinds him. 

You’re playing in the field with your attendants, nymphs that could never hope to be as lovely as you. Flowers bloom beneath your feet- literally, white rosebuds and zinnias and little daisies that stand proud.

He watches for hours, until the whole field is covered in fragrant blooms and the sun has started its slow descent down. He didn’t think you could get anymore beautiful, but as you stop to watch the blood-red sky, ruby light illuminating youthful features, his heart stops. 

He decides that he cannot live without you.

On the other side of the field, unaware of your secret admirer, you decide you cannot live without the sun.

In both of your fierce desires; one selfish, one innocent, the ground in which your love will bloom is salted, condemned to death.

-------

He watches you for six moons, watches as the warm spring sun brings pure joy to your face and leaves sweetpeas in your footsteps, views the soft white of Eucharis lilies trail after as you revel in the never-ending heat of summer. 

Below, the world of the dead slow to a halt as their king spends his days yearning after a goddess with a warmth so unlike his own, wondering if they might be able to bring warmth to his cold, dead realm. 

Hades decides he has to find out. 

------

The bright yellow blooms of Narcissi are the bringer of your doom. You cannot help but reach for them- so lovely and unlike any other flower in your arms, but with the first brush of velvet petals against soft skin, the earth rumbles and a chasm forms. 

An abyss of darkness chases after your nimble feet, but even graceful leaps are unable to save you, soft soles unused to running, unused to danger. As you fall into the never-ending void, you wonder if this will be your end. 

Gods can’t die, you know that much, but to endure an eternal descent in pitch-black would be close enough. 

Your lids flutter closed, assured that the soft rain of bright petals above you will be the last thing you ever see. There is a warmth to this darkness, almost like the brush of robes- 

Strong arms catch you, and the darkness takes the form of a man, solemn and somber with eyes like Chaos itself. The antithesis to your world of light, and yet you cannot help but think that he is more beautiful than any flower the sun could give you.

That does not mean you stop loving its warmth.

-------

You cling to your light robes for a week, until they are tattered and worn, gossamer fabric dirty with your own sorrow and fear. The marble palace is not cold, per se, and yet you find yourself shivering every time its lord leaves you. 

The hatred you feel at the warmth he gives you is only eclipsed by the cold fury of being separated from your home. Picked flowers die, stems growing soft, petals withering; you know that much intimately and from experience. 

He has not dug you carefully out of the ground, roots intact, and transferred you to another home; no, he has snapped your stem in blind ignorance, caging you in glass for his own admiration, both knowing and unknowing of your slow demise. 

Petals fall, colours fade, and yet he still cannot see that it is he who kills you. 

‘Shouta’, is all he has said when you had gotten to your knees and begged the lord of the Underworld to set you free. 

‘For you, my name will never be Hades, only Shouta.’ He holds you as he says this, salty tears seeping into the cool black fabric of his robes. Your skin burns where he touches you, but it is not like the anger of the sun. When mortals die of cold, they begin to feel feverish, overheat, and in their final moments all they can do is strip to escape the oppressive, imagined heat before the ice takes over.

You are in your final moments, stripping away parts of yourself as the incandescence of Shouta’s love burns you alive and freezes your heart. Orange lilies turn to candy tufts, and the world above has a taste of its first winter. 

-------

When you tire of locking yourself away in cold marble rooms, you begin to wander your new home. Sometimes you sit on the small black throne next to Hades himself, listening as souls petition the cold king for mercy, for another chance, another life.

You want to shout at them to go, to stop wasting their never-ending breath and eternal time, because you know better. Shouta will never let you go, not until the end of your long, immortal life. He has tried his best to give you a poor approximation of one, but it means nothing when he has stripped your former life away himself. 

Still, time goes on, and it becomes tiresome to carry such rage. It grows weary, when there is no sun to measure the days and years mean nothing to a god. Sometimes, you sit on his lap, wrap your arms around him and tuck your face into his neck. 

Flowers are beautiful, and you are grateful for your ability to create them, but they do not lend themselves easily to power. Hades makes you feel unstoppable.

‘Shouta’, you whisper into his ear, eyes half lidded and body languid against his. ‘My lord.’ The shudder that runs through the god of the Underworld at your words is as sweet and heady as any ambrosia, and brings a warmth so different than that of the sun.

Petunias bloom in your wake, strange and lifeless in this cold, unfeeling world. Your anger and anguish at being torn from youthful innocence is a raw wound, and though it is Hades who caused it, it is Shouta who soothes like a cool balm against fevered skin. 

Your imagined heat drives you mad with thirst, and Shouta is cool water, a fresh stream trickling through the snow. 

-------

His flesh is cool against yours the first time you let him into your bed. Warm hands trail up the hard plains of muscles carved from marble, and when your touch lingers for too long, it is as if he steals your warmth for his own. Selfish even in his most basic of functions.

It’s been who knows how long, and though you are not mortal, you fall prey to human cravings. Pleasure can be found in the most undesirable of places, and as soft praise spills from hated lips, your heart wrenches. 

Hades, no, Shouta, is your jailer. He is your lord, your king, your husband by decree of Zeus and he is the one that holds the keys to your prison, who lets you rage and sob and bury your face in his robes all the while looking with eyes of immeasurable sadness.

He kisses sweet apologies up the flesh of your thighs, devours you like Tantalus seeing food, drinks you in like you are nectar from Ganymede’s cup. Surely someone who brings you to such heights of pleasure cannot be as bad as you think?

You think of Hera, condemned to a loveless marriage to an unfaithful husband, love turning rancid to hatred like sweet wine to vinegar. At least your husband will never leave you; has sworn on the river Styx that his love for you will never run dry, that he will never let you go and your snare of his heart will never end.

That is more than most can ask for, you know. Love does not come easy to ever-living beings, when hundreds of years pass in the blink of an eye and personalities remain unchanged. No room for growth, no roots for love to bloom. 

The earth of your love has been salted, but it is earth nonetheless. Hades’ soft, mournful love nurtures the delicate petals, and you do not forget your love of the light.

You cannot live without the sun, but Shouta is your sun now. 

Shouta cannot live without you, so you will never leave.

-------

When the spirits that crowd into the throne room become more and more skeletal, eyes gaunt not just from lack of life, you know something is wrong. Your mother’s name falls from restless lips, angry and resentful, and you know. 

The land above you is dead, as barren as your mother’s heart without you. Shouta cannot live without you, you cannot live without the sun, and your mother cannot live without her daughter. 

She is playing her last, desperate card; an eternal winter as cold as Zeus’ refusal, as empty as his mind when he promised a child to his brother. Soon, the dead outnumber the living, gods starving as sacrifices stop while Demeter roams barren fields lamenting the loss of her love. 

Unbalance is rife within the world, and Hades is no fool. On the fifth year anniversary of your disappearance, Shouta takes you by the hand, guilt written clear across his face, eyes filled with such bleak despair that your heart aches for the man who kidnapped you. Your heart aches for your husband.

When you reach the destination, tears well in your eyes, tears of joy and tears of sorrow. You know not to eat the food of the Underworld; lest you bind yourself eternally to the land of the dead. Yet, perfect and whole, a small pomegranate tree stands proud, flesh as red as the rubies which litter your husband’s kingdom. 

‘I- I am sorry. A choice, for when you had none.’ You’ve heard the whispers; Hermes will come on behalf of Zeus to negotiate for your freedom, for the survival of the gods. Your freedom is on the tip of your tongue, close enough to taste, and yet all you can dream of are the tart burst of blood red arils. 

With shaking hands, you split the crimson fruit, taking six perfect seeds in the palm of your hand. Your choice- six months in the sun, reveling in the memory of lost innocence and childhood, and six months here, ruling the dark land of the dead at the right hand of your husband. 

You look into the eyes of the man who stole you from your life, who gave you power when you had none, who looks at you like you are more precious than all the gold and gems the Underworld has to offer, who offers you the keys to your prison five years too late. 

There is sweetness to be found in sour moments, you think. You strip away the final piece of clothing, expose yourself to the cold, core burning bright, and embrace the cool kiss of death. 

Shouta’s lips are warm against yours, and you wonder when you began to steal the warmth back from him. It does not matter- your white rosebuds are long gone, petals dried and dead, and there are only tulips now, yellow as the flower that first pulled you in. 

Salted land still bears fruit.

[little-birdseeker]

The Sisters

A fresh breeze of the sea blew over the market of Kugane and through Ianas long, brown hair, while she was strolling over it. Everything was so strange, so new, so different from Limsa. It was exciting! She was the first of her family, the Birdseekers, to see this beautiful city, and she wanted to see all of it, so she could tell them everything she experienced in her letters!

She followed the people, looked around the stands and let her nose guide her to the most delicious smelling food she had ever seen, when a certain person caught her attention. This red… this ears… and the tail! Could it be? “Isa?!”, she shouted, running to the mysterious little lady, who looked around baffled after hearing a very familiar voice.

“Iaaaana!!”, Isabelle screamed in excitement, when saw her sister running towards her. Before Iana could react, Isabelle had put her arms around her and gave her a big hug. “Isa, what are YOU doing here?” Didn’t dad tell her she was the first to visit Kugane? How did her little clumsy sister end up here? “Hmm… i was looooking for some nice cloooth! For new dreeesses, you see?”, Isabelle answered with her high voice Iana certainly hadn’t missed. And she was showing her cute, dumb smile again. “That’s not what i- ah, forget it. Let’s search for a quiter place, okay? Can’t hear much here…” - “Ohhh, i knooow where to go! Fooollow me!”

After Isabelle had pulled Iana over half of the market, they finally sat on a little bench. While being pulled, Iana had enough time to take a closer look at her little sister. She hadn’t changed much, but still… “Tell me, Isa…”, she began while inspecting the red lady besides her. “Where did you get that dress? It looks really nice and well made, although i could do better, you know?” - “Oh, thiiis? Made it aaall by myself, in Uuul’dah!��, Isabelle answered proudly, happy about the praise she got. “You made this? You, who always ruined the fine cloth dad gave you?”, Iana laughed, which made Isabelle look slightly offended. “Reeeally, i-” - “Yeah, yeah, you made this, i go it”, Iana interrupted her sister, petting her head. She really hasn’t changed. Still trying to impress her big sister, and still getting offended if she didn’t believe her. It was still her dumb little sister. But still, where did she get that dress? She couldn’t made it herself, did she…?

For a few seconds, Isabelle gave Iana a grumpy look while being petted, until she shoved away the arm of her big sister. “It’s sooo nice to see you again, Iaaana! How iiis everyone at home? Are mooom and daaad okay? And what are yooou doing here?” So many words. So many questions. Iana sighed softly, before she answered. “When i left, everything was okay. Some were still worried about you, especially mom, you know? The usual. Ruun has left a while ago, too, but he should be okay. At least that’s what his letters tell. He writes one every moon. And i… i was hired from a company, here in Kugane. I arrived a few days ago, and well, now i’m going to work here as the first Birdseeker in Kugane. At least that’s what dad told me. But Isa, since when are you here in Kugane? And what in Azeymas name are you doing here?”

“Oh, ehhh… i caaame here a feeew moons ago, i think? I could ask Vaaalli again, she will deeefinitly know when whe caaame here! She is the leeeader of the free cooompany i live with, and they moooved here, so… i came with them!” Iana looked absolutly baffled. What exactly did her little sister tell her right now? A few moons ago? A free company? And… that ring at her hand she was waving in front of her!? “So, Isa, you are telling me, you are part of a free company now, you are living here for a few moons in Kugane and you got married?”, Iana asked, pointing at the ring. “Mhm!”, Isabelle nodded proudly. “Then why didn’t mom and dad tell me about it?” - “Eeehhh… i, eh, kinda didn’t tell them?”, Isabelle responded and showed her dumb smile again, while looking a bit embarrassed, too.

Iana couldn’t believe it. Her little sister, the clumsy little bringer of chaos, had found a man, and didn’t tell her family about it? To be fair, she had been somewhat popular in Limsa, maybe because of her cuteness, her red hair and also her considerable bust. But still… who wanted to have such an annoying girl around all the time? And how did she managed to get married before her, her big, beautiful sister, who may have managed to get some boyfriends back home, but… they all had been idiots. And besides that… a free company?

“Okay, okay. You are married, i get that. But… a free company? One of those companies full of adventures?” Again, Isabelle nodded. “My huuusband brought me to them! They were sooo nice to me, and are aaall my friends! There is Vaaalli, our little leeeader, and Saaang, her huuusband, who teachs me, aaaand Niiiyu, my best frieeend, and Azuuura, the mom of eeeeveryone, and -”, Isabelle counted on her fingers while her green eyes seemed to glimmer with joy, when Iana interrupted her. “Isa, Isa, okay, i got it, i got it! There are many wonderful people. But what are you doing there? Adventuring as their little mage or what?”, she giggled. “Mhm! Aaand weaving!”, Isabelle answered as proud as she could.

“...what?” Iana hadn’t expected to be right. “You… what? Magic? Isa, nobody in our family could use magic, and you know that! You can’t fool me!”, she mocked her. “But i caaan use magic! Looook!” Isabelle stretched out her arm and… somehow, little sparkles appeared around it. “Oh, please. You are really desperate to impress me, aren’t you? We all know you just need a bit of magic powder to create something like that”, she giggled again. As if her sister could use magic. No Birdseeker had ever the power to use magic - even teleporting was something only a few could use. But magic? Never!

“Hmpf! Then taaaake that!”, Iana could hear Isablles huffy voice, when a surge of water hit her face, producing a loud splash. “Ehhh, wha- That was toooo much, i’m sooorry, Iana, soooorry!” Her whole face was wet, and her clothes, too. Big drops of water were dripping down from her face, taking her wonderful makeup with it. But Iana didn’t moved. She was too perplex from what had happened. Were did that water come from? Isabelle couldn’t carry that much water with her, could she? Iana would have noticed for sure! And nobody else was here! That meant…

Magic! Iana looked at Isabelle in disbelieve. Why, of all people, was she the one who could use magic? And not her, the big sister? Why had it to be her clumsy, idiotic sister? Iana would be such a good mage, she knew it! And, besides that: if Isabelle could use magic, she could teleport, too! Which meant she could just… teleport back home, instead of taking a ship, which took at least a week to sail back to Limsa. While Isabelle could always go back home, Iana was stuck here!

Envious rage was building inside her, until she shouted “You are so proud of yourself, aren’t you? Just look at yourself! Look at you, look at me! You, with your red hair! Have you ever seen someone like yourself? A real Birdseeker has brown her! Like me, or dad! A real Birdseeker can’t use magic! A real Birdseeker is a masterful weaver, like dad and the others! A real Birdseeker is married to another Seeker of the sun, unlike you, i bet! I don’t know how you did end up i our family! But you are no real Birdseeker! You don’t deserve those stars at your cheek! You are a disgrace to the family! You, and your husband, your so called weaving-skills, your magic, your shitty red hair, and… and your ridiculous boobs!”

Tears had build up in Isabelles eyes as Iana was yelling at her, running down her cheeks slowly, running over the red stars on her right cheek. And when Iana has stopped, Isabelle was shaking. For a second, she was looking at Ianas green eyes, she and Isa had inherit from her mother, before Isabelle turned and ran away. Away from her awful big sister. Iana didn’t followed her. Why should she? That girl wasn’t worth it. Instead, she should write a letter home. A very important letter.

When Isabelle appeared in front of the free companies house, she ran straight to the door. She didn’t care if anyone was there, she just wanted to be alone. She ran through the house, crying, until she reached her own room. She slammed the door after entering her room and jumped straight into her bed, where she burried herself in the blanket and all the cushions she had hoared. What did she do wrong this time? Everything? Could she ever be a true Birdseeker? One, her father and sister and everyone else would be proud of? She didn’t know. She just… didn’t know. So she kept crying. Crying, until there were no tears left...

((If you want to know, how the story continues, click here!))

[ship-ambrosia]

A Fool Like Him

My good friend @sweetmemories2606 told me that yesterday was an unofficial Stingyu Day, so naturally as Stingyu is one of my favorite ships behind only Nalu and Gruvia, I had to jump on that train! Sting x Yukino needs more fanworks, so I am here to deliver!!

I promise Heavens Bringer will be updating soon! I just keep getting distracted (by things like this lol)

~~~

Sabertooth, one week after the Grand Magic Games

Word had spread quickly after the final day of the games, after the dragon invasion had been stopped, of the changes that came to the former Number 1 magic guild in Fiore. The original master, Jiemma, and his daughter Minerva had disappeared in the chaos brewing just before the fight broke out. Even before that, Jiemma had been removed from his position as master. But with his removal, the members of Sabertooth collectively realized that the guild they were fighting for and the guild that they were a part of were two different guilds entirely. And they had to choose which one they really wanted to take back home with them.

Sting Eucliffe, out of necessity, had to be the first one to make such a decision. Surely, that was why Minerva had elected to make him the new Sabertooth guild master rather than herself; so that she could slip away from their guild just as easily if it all came crashing down. In that moment at the end of the games, as he stared down the five members of Fairy Tail across the courtyard that he was to face - he remembered being so pissed that Natsu wasn't there, that he nearly hadn't listened to a word they said - Sting made that decision. They wouldn't give up, even though he had the clear advantage. They were all exhausted. Beaten up. He'd only shown his face once during the entire match, to knock Quatro Cerberus's ace out of the competition. Fairy Tail believed in the strength of the bonds between their members. Natsu had told him earlier in the games that such bonds were the source of his power, the fuel for the Fire Dragon Slayer's flames. His love for Lector, for Rogue and Frosch, reminded him of just how much he loved Sabertooth, and that he needed to fight for a Sabertooth that loved it's members. That was why he surrendered to Fairy Tail that day. That was why the Sabertooth he brought home with him became more relaxed, breathed more life. That was why, he told himself, he was so obsessed with Yukino's return.

Sting let out a sigh as he sat at his desk, filing out more paperwork. He allowed himself to lay his chin in his hands, his eyelids drooping as he allowed himself a moment to rest. Maybe Rogue was right, maybe he had been overworking himself... but it was all to show the other guilds and the Magic Council that even if he was the youngest master of a magic guild since Fairy Tail's founder, Mavis Vermillion, he took his job seriously. He also was definitely trying to avoid thinking about someone.

He doubted he could ever get through a day successfully completing that goal though, as the image of Yukino standing before the entire guild, exposed in just her tank top and skirt as Jiemma excommunicated her and forced her to remove her own guild mark, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He had been so furious with her for losing that he couldn't even stand to look at her. Sabertooth mages didn't lose. That just wasn't possible. But as the week of the games wore on, Sting's anger directed more toward himself. He hadn't know Yukino well - no one in the guild was particularly close, save for him and Rogue - but she had been a calm presence, a friendly face in an otherwise chilly crowd. He hated that he had missed her, that he disagreed with Jiemma's decision. He hated how cruel he felt in the way she had been forced out of Sabertooth. He hated how Natsu broke into Sabertooth and nearly defeated their guild master over a girl he had known for two days, while Sting had known her for a year and still couldn't bring himself to stand up for her.

And when he saw her for the first time again standing in front of the Eclipse Gate with Lucy as seven dragons stepped out of it, Sting knew he couldn't ever let Yukino leave. He couldn't ever bring the original Sabertooth back, because he cared too much. He wanted to grab Yukino, Rogue, Lector, and Frosch and hold them close and protect them from the hell descending upon Crocus. He wanted to know his friends were safe.

A knock on his door shook Sting out of his thoughts, and he quickly sat up in his chair. "Come in," he called to them, and then sucked in a breath when an angel glided across the floor toward him.

He'd had a similar reaction back at the Grand Ball. After the dragons had been "defeated" - technically all the credit goes to Natsu for that, since he destroyed the Eclipse Gate - the king of Fiore invited them all to a party. He'd dressed up, and made everyone who was choosing to stay in his new Sabertooth come as a means of announcing his formal takeover as guild master. Initially, he'd seen Lisanna Strauss walking by him while he spoke to Gajeel and done a double-take, but his heart sunk. Until he noticed her walking toward Lucy and two more girls with white hair. Lisanna had an elder sister, but only one. When the girl with the white hair in a ponytail turned, he saw that it was her, Mirajane. The other girl had white hair, only a few inches longer than Lisanna's. The rose decoration in her hair gave her away, and his heart started to pound wildly. As the group walked toward where the boys stood, Yukino saw him. The look on her face was horror and guilt. She muttered out an apology and turned around.

Sting was star struck. He knew Yukino was pretty, but he'd be lying if he said she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the room now. Seeing her all dressed up forced him to face the facts. It was like an arrow straight through his heart. His own idiocy almost let her slip away from him.

Did she hate him? Probably yes. Still, he gathered himself enough to quickly excuse himself from Gajeel and Rogue and walk forward after her. Lucy and Mirajane noticed him immediately, and he couldn't blame them for the way their expressions grew concerned.

"Yukino, wait!" Her entire body stiffened when he spoke her name.

"I didn't actually think you would be here," he explained quickly. Sting felt like his voice quivered quite obviously. He took another deep breath.

"Master and Minerva have disappeared," he began. "So we all want to start over. We're going to remake a new Sabertooth, rebuild it from the ground up."

He saw her turn around and face him. It gave him the confidence he needed to keep talking.

"We um... we were unbelievably cruel to you," he looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. She shrunk back against his blazing gaze. "But it's my goal to lead a guild that treasures its members."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to come back to us."

The words echoed in his ears as he felt a very similar sensation to the moment she turned around at the ball pulse through his veins. Yukino wore her normal attire, a short strapless dress covered in an ornate cape, but it wasn't the clothes that made him focus in on her beauty this time. It was the realization he'd had, the reason he tried to keep her off his mind as much as he could. Sting clenched his fists a bit to force himself back to reality.

"Good morning Yukino," he said finally.

"Master Sting, I-" she immediately grew quiet as his expression darkened and he held up a hand.

"Just Sting," he insisted for the hundredth time since they'd gotten back from the games. Yukino's habit of adding "Master" to his name now had a way of reminding him of Jiemma - something that left a bad taste in his mouth as it also made Yukino feel more distant from him than ever before. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm truly grateful to be back in Sabertooth, I love this guild so much," she immediately began tearing up. "But I still... I don't think I belong... I shouldn't have come back-"

Sting got to his feet immediately as the walls crumbled around him. "Who's made you feel that way? Yukino?!" He exclaimed when she didn't answer his first question. "Yukino, I'm serious who is it that makes you think you don't belong, because I-"

He had made his way around his desk and toward her, and was suddenly cut off by the weight that pushed against him, bumping him back against the desk. Yukino wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her face against his chest.

"No one," she spoke finally. "No one has made me feel that way. Everyone is trying to finally get to know each other and it's wonderful it's just I... I keep going back to that night. When no one did anything. When i couldn't have even been given the decency of having my guild mark removed in an official way. When Master Jiemma made me remove it myself. I was all alone. I don't want to be alone again."

His tongue had gone numb, Sting moving his jaw a moment but no sound came out. He had to say something. He was extremely afraid of the possibility that Yukino Aguria could walk away from Sabertooth right now if he didn't consider the right things to say. Rogue had told him he needed to be comforting. He needed to have confidence that he could put any of his members' fears to rest. On the inside, he trembled just as much as Yukino was in his arms.

"You won't be," he replied finally, and she looked up to face him. Damn him if the sight of her in tears didn't make him want to move heaven and hell just to see her smile. "Nothing like that will ever happen again because this is my Sabertooth, not Jiemma's. I won't lie. It's going to be a difficult transition, Yukino. It's going to be painful and it's going to be long. But I've changed. I was just like the wizards Jiemma wanted; cold, arrogant, pure power. I want to be warm. I want to be friends with my guildmates, and I want friendship to mean more to me than raw strength. So I need to make Sabertooth be a guild filled with all those things."

They stood there in silence for a long time, the only sound Sting could hear was the pounding of the blood in his ears.

It felt like an eternity before Yukino finally replied. A simple "Thank you, Sting." But it was more than enough for him. She paused before speaking again.

"I promise I'll help you make Sabertooth just as you envision it," she breathed out, as though she were thinking over every word. "Even if we're the last members left here, i will help you and Rogue complete your new Sabertooth."

His cheeks felt warm, and Sting couldn't believe he was blushing. He was blushing, damn it. What kind of control did this girl have over him? And more importantly, why had it taken him so long to realize just what she meant to him?

"Although... we still haven't placed your guild mark back on, have we?" Sting asked her. "I'll... I'll do it, if it's okay? Reverse the treatment that Jiemma gave you, and have the guild master place it back on."

He watched as Yukino's face turned the same shade of red as Titania Erza's hair. Sting mulled over his words in a panic, trying to discover what mistake he had clearly made.

"Th-that's very kind of you, Sting..." she stuttered. "But I... I'm wearing a dress. Perhaps I could go home and change? And come back? And then you could place my guild mark?" Her voice got higher and high in pitch with every question.

As her words revealed what he had implied, Sting blushed a brighter shade of red too. "Of course! Of course you can go home and change! I wasn't... I mean it wasn't my intention, I-"

As he tripped over his words, she smiled. And he watched, as if in slow motion, her face relaxed. Yukino leaned forward. Something pressed to his cheek, and then she stepped back into his line of vision, a softer pink on her face now. Sting's insides turned to goo.

"Thank you," her eyes were finally glittering with joy again, the way they used to when she would speak to him. "Thank you so much, Sting."

As she left his office, he couldn't help but think back to his standoff with Kagura just moments after he'd asked Yukino to come back to Sabertooth. Even though Kagura was drunk, she had incited very real fear in him. Lucy and Erza, too, when they insisted it was only natural for Yukino to join Fairy Tail. The other guilds wanted to fight for her, but Sting had sensed real competition with Fairy Tail and Mermaid Heel. He was so afraid of losing Yukino in that moment. For losing any chance he could have had to act on the feelings he had only recently discovered in himself.

It had taken him too long, the naive fool that he was. Only now he realized he was selfish in his hope of having a chance with Yukino. How could she ever feel the same after everything he had let happen to her?

The last thing she needed was a fool like him to love her.

[vehicroids]

day 6 of @bunny-week - family! so, looking after other people’s kids

It was Kenny's idea to look after Stan and Kyle's kids - they wanted to go away for a weekend for their anniversary. Butters loved kids, so he was happy to help. He was, however, less than impressed about getting volunteered.

The look on the kids’ faces was enough to make Butters stop complaining. Jasper threw himself at Kenny, chattering excitedly about school, while Butters picked up Hazel, who was making grabby hands to be picked up. Hazel was old enough to walk and talk, but she was too stubborn to do either.

The kids were adorable, and Butters loved them a great deal. Kyle was rattling off a list of what the kids needed, when they ate, when bedtime was… Butters wasn't listening. Lucky for him, Kyle had made a list and pinned it onto the noticeboard. The list was far too long - Kyle was way too anal. It was probably good they were going on vacation.

“Dude, come on, I wanna go,” Stan whined.

“Alright, alright, I'm coming. Any problems, and you guys know how to reach us,” Kyle said.

And just like that, they were gone. Butters was relieved - now it was just him, Kenny and the kids. Kenny took one look at the list and snorted.

“He never changes, does he?” Kenny said.

“‘Fraid not,” Butters laughed.

“Well, whatever. Why don't we do something fun?” Kenny grinned at the kids.

Kyle was about as fun as his mother was - Butters wondered if Jasper had his own Eric, complete with a song tilted Jasper’s Dad is a Big Fat Bitch. Butters had to try not to laugh at the thought. Imagining someone having their own Eric was cruel.

The kids were excited - with Kenny and Butters, they could do what they wanted. Within reason, of course. Butters finger painted with Hazel, who was all too happy to get dirty with paints. She painted the paper, herself, and Butters, and it was a good thing the paint would wash right out. He dabbed a bit of paint on her nose, and she turned cross-eyed trying to look at it.

He watched Kenny and Jasper play with ‘swords’ - two fallen twigs. They had an elaborate story that carried on with every visit. Kenny was both the damsel in distress and the villain, and Jasper needed to save the princess. Unfortunately, it seemed he would never reach his fair maiden.

It reminded Butters of when they were little, when they had made elaborate stories with their friends. Mysterion and Professor Chaos sprang to mind - Butters tried so hard to be his rival back then. Then, of course, there was the paladin and the princess. He would have done anything for Princess Kenny, and he still would have done anything for him now. He had such a crush on the princess, it was funny to look back on it.

“What?” Kenny hummed. “You wanna come and play? Come on, you've gotta bring Chaos back.”

Jasper's eyes lit up, and Butters laughed. “No, you wouldn't wanna meet Chaos. He's, well, the bringer of destruction and pain.”

“I wanna meet him!!” Jasper piped up.

“No, I'm telling you, it ain't gonna happen,” Butters said, standing up. “Watch Hazel for a sec, would you?”

Kenny nodded, and Butters ran back inside. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink, leaving a watery rainbow coloured mess. He could clean that later. He washed as much paint off as he could, before drying himself off. He couldn't very well be Professor Chaos if he looked like a clown.

He emerged from the back door, arms folded over his chest and standing proud. Kenny beamed at him, and Jasper looked at him in confusion. Butters sauntered closer, then put his hands on his hips. He laughed, a deep and booming laugh, and Jasper lit up again.

“You dare to ask for Professor Chaos? Fool, you're bringing your own demise,” Butters smirked.

Jasper held out his stick-sword, ready to ‘stab’. “I'm not scared of you.”

“We'll see about that.”

Kenny handed over his stick and sat down with Hazel. Butters was locked in battle with a little eight year old boy, with Kenny cheering for Butters in the background. He laughed - it really did feel like they were little kids all over again.

With a stick to the heart, Butters fell, clutching his chest. He knelt down in front of Jasper, looking up at him with a hiss.

“You… haven't seen the last of me,” he gasped.

Kenny laughed at the theatrics before standing up. “I think that's enough of that for now. Come on, let's get started on dinner.”

Kenny got started on dinner, while Butters had to wash the kids. Washing them was a fight - Hazel liked being dirty too much, and taking an eye off Jasper meant he would try to escape. Every time. Butters wanted to tear his hair out.

Butters was glad when it was finally bedtime. The kids, exhausted, didn’t put up much of a fight. Relief. At last, it was only Kenny and Butters, lazily watching TV on the couch. Kenny yawned, before snuggling close to Butters. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer.

“You ever think about kids?” Kenny asked.

“Having kids?” Butters hummed in thought. “Well, I mean, I suppose I’ve thought about it.”

Butters was hesitant, however - his parents were truly awful people, along with Kenny’s parents. How would they know how to be good parents when they didn’t have good examples growing up? Kenny looked up at him, like he could sense Butters’ fear.

“We’re not our parents. Look, Stan and Kyle had shitty dads, and they’re great with their kids. And that’s why I think that maybe, we’d be okay, too,” Kenny said, sounding unsure.

“You think so?” Butters leaned his head against Kenny’s.

“We’d make great parents, I’m sure of it.”

Kenny smiled up at Butters - a winning smile that always made everything feel better. Butters smiled back.

“Maybe we can look into it? It doesn’t have to be now, but it’s an idea,” Butters said.

Kenny lit up. “Really? Holy shit, I thought you’d say no!”

“Well, it ain’t a yes or a no, it’s a ‘let’s think about it’,” Butters said. “I don’t wanna rush in or nothing.”

Kenny didn’t stop smiling. “Good enough for me.”

He went back to snuggling into Butters, who kissed the top of his head. Could they really cut it as parents? Butters wanted to find out.

[dungeonsndrag]

The Day Superman Died  Chapter 2: Inner-Demons

Inner-Demons

When I was a child, my mother would tell me stories before I went to sleep. Cautionary tales about the demons that hid under my bed, waiting for me to sin so they could swipe at my feet and drag me down to hell.

I hated my mother. She demanded perfection, civility. She was a bland, cruel woman.

And yet, I fell right into her trap, I was the proper dutiful son, I focused, I studied, I trained. I became the dutiful squire, and finally a dutiful knight. I was the first Blood to be given a seat at Arthur's round-table.

If only I had appreciated it. If only I had been simple. I could have lived a happy little life, married a good woman and been given a small castle of my own, then I could have died peacefully in the middle of the night from a heart attack.

No, too mundane. Jason Blood was worthy of a far more exciting death than that. 

What a young fool I was.

I fought on the front lines for years against the forces of Morgaine Le Fay, Merlin's’ former apprentice who now swore a vendetta upon the throne.

She would throw her endless armies of demons at us like waves crashing against the cliff sides, neither side could gain ground, but she was wearing us down, and she knew it.

I first met her son, Klarion, on the battlefield, I was helping a town retreat from an invasion when our eyes caught across the bloody chaos. He was helping an elderly woman gather her belongings, ushering her to join the other escapees. I had heard the Witch-Boy was a kinder soul than his mother, I had not believed it till this day.  

Klarion was a misunderstood boy, born from a beast far more vile than himself.

I could relate.

We didn't meet again until a year later, where our battle was far more...intimate.

After this Klarion and I would meet often, in secrecy, until one day, he came to Camelot, beaten and bloodied, running from his mother.

He pleaded to Merlin, telling him that Le Fay was planning an all-out assault on Camelot, something she had not deigned to do before now. She would be here in days and we'd be wiped out, once and for all.

Merlin would not listen.

They shackled the Witch-Boy and paid his warnings no mind.

I tried to plead Klarion’s case to Merlin and Arthur, but when they wouldn't budge I took matters into my own hands.

I broke Klarion out of the dungeon myself, and as we made our escape, his mother’s assault began. The ground was stained with the blood of many demons and men that day.

We almost made it out of Camelot unscathed but as we reached the gates, Merlin caught up to us.

He claimed me a traitor to the crown, and a terrorist deserving of execution.

I didn’t care.

He did.

“Yarva Demonicus Etrigan.”

He began to chant, an old foul magic, something LeFay would prefer.

“Change, change form of man.”

The curse took hold fast as flames of hellfire engulfed my form. I remember the searing pain, the stink of burning flesh.

“Free the Prince, forever damned.”

To spite me, Merlin undid himself, using his magic to summon a force he had sworn to combat.

“Free the might from fleshy mire.”

As my flesh melted away, shimmering orange scales took its place.

“Boil the blood in the heart of fire.”

Thick sharp horns grew from my skull and reptilian fins from my face.

"Gone, gone the form of man"

I gazed down at my hands, the world now cloaked in red, my fist now adorned with massive claws.

“Rise the Demon, Etrigan!”

I stared at my lover, tears streaming down my cheeks, sure that my new monstrous form would give him pause.

Klarion found it within himself to love a beast such as me.

He conjured us a teleportation spell and chanted to set us free.

In the days to come he helped me master this new hellish hate.

And discovered with meditation, I could temporarily reverse my fate.

I could walk as a man for an amount of time.

But The Demon would always return with a rhyme.

As the years went on, our love was tested, and as all good things, our time together ended. I learned that my bond to this demon meant my life was now eternal. Every time I saw injustice I would recant the rhyme infernal.

As Jason Blood I continued to live, finding a place in the world as it shifted and changed around me. I watched empires rise and fall, I watched civilizations end and begin. I took up collecting, keeping trinkets from my adventures, tomes, and weapons, items of great magic power. I found a home in Metropolis, alone with my things, relics of a bygone era. For a time I found myself working as a detective of sorts, using my experience with magic as a way to help those being targeted by the darker forces of the mystic realms...but alas as the years dragged on I began to realize I too was just another relic of my collection, watching the world roll past me as I sank into isolation.

Now. I find myself staring out into the world I no longer feel connected to. The skies burn and winged monsters descend from the heavens.

Wings of metal and mouths that spew fire….twisted visions of angels….demons.

I grab my sword, I have plenty of swords, but only of them is MY sword.

Forged for me by Sir Justin, The Shining Knight himself, the only round table knight younger than I, his armor was pure Nth Metal, when the light hit it he shined like a god, demons ran from his presence alone. The sword he made me, he named Light-Bringer, told me in my darkest moments, it would help me find my way. I've had this sword longer than any other belonging...and I've spent years building its legend.

Legends are delicate things, a fragile magic that relies on the memories and the devotion of others, they only take form when enough people believe them to be true. The legend of Light-Bringer is that when the sword is drawn, it can summon Sir Justin's steed, a brilliant white stallion with wings made of pure light. A Pegasus. As I said, legends take a long time to curate. The one advantage to my...longevity? I've had plenty of time.

I draw the brilliant glistening blade and as It leaves its sheath, threads of light branch off of it, swirling to the center of the room, tethering together, forming an angelic mare.

I grab the mane of my steed and hoist myself up, I look at my face in the reflection of the blade, stern, a scar draping from the corner of my lip, over my nose to my left eye. My hair still a dark red but a streak of white has been growing for the last 3 decades. I barely recognize the face looking back at me, for it’s not my true face….it is the face of Jason Blood...but I am not just Jason Blood.

"Gone, gone, the form of Man…"

Next:

Chapter 3: Bugs and Beasts

Masterpost

[silecouslandold]

though the heavens fall | part i

"An empire before yours, greater than yours, was toppled by a Ferelden farmgirl. Imagine what I can do to you."

One might be a woman, or Ferelden; never both. She never looked back, she must not look back, lest she faltered; the moment she fell, Ferelden failed with her. She was not her own. She was no one else's. Anora Mac Tir was Ferelden, proud, hardened, wilfull and free. Ferelden did not break, and neither did she.

They called her the Great Whore of Ferelden. Daughter of traitors. Notorious mistress of the king. More Orlesian than Ferelden, they called her. Dark, wild, deceitful, and dangerous. Sile Cousland loved Denerim at night. Chaos. Utter chaos. Had she been required to rule these people, superstitious peasants that they were, she had no doubt that she would loathe them; but observed with anonymity, they were a riot. She slipped through the dark alleys, thinking that for all the blood of Andraste, she’d have all their heads on pikes inside of a month if she were Anora. It was a great fortune for everyone, really, that she was born the spare. Fergus might not have made his own bed, being the eldest, but by the Maker, she would see him lie in it. AO3

Prologue

It wasn’t the stillness. She could bear that. She knew little else in those uncertain days, watching, waiting for the inevitable, knowing the steps to a dance without knowing when the music was to begin, the great breath of anticipation before the final act unravelled itself.

It wasn’t the silence. Somewhere thunder rumbled. It was raining; it was always raining. For this she was grateful; the sunlight would have been too obscene, too cruel. If the sun broke through, she would be undone. She prayed the storm, at least, would not abandon her.

The world was gray, pale, colorless; the light from the candle that glowed on her nightstand was terrible in its way, casting shadows on her face, casting light where it didn’t belong.

Velanna had known the truth long ago.

The creators were banished, the shemlen’s Maker was gone.

They were alone. Utterly and completely alone.

Waves crashed on the shores of Amaranthine, bringing the end nearer. Any day now. Any second.

And so she waited. Closed her eyes. Extended her hand above the flame and felt it warm her skin.

Watched, waited, unflinching, unerring.

In peace, vigilance.

The corners of her mouth twitched at the irony.

Ah, fate, with its fiendish designs, its vicious humor.

She lowered her fingers and felt her searing flesh, the sickening ghost of a funeral pyre filling her nostrils, her skin bubbling, agony pulsing through her with the blood roaring in her ears.

How long had it been?

She drew her hand back as her fingertips blackened. Closed her eyes and curled her hand into a fist, biting her lip until she tasted blood. She must not sleep. She must not laugh, must not become hysterical, must not lose herself. It was all she had left to lose.

She relaxed her shoulders and opened her palm, the charred flesh restored without a trace of a wound.

She allowed herself to smile. Well. Perhaps not all she had left.

Her eyes drifted to the amulet that sat on the table before her.

She had worn an amulet once, the vial of blood to remind her of those who had sacrificed all, those who had walked her path. Not anymore. That had been an illusion; that path wasn’t hers.

It was then that she heard it.

The cry of the raven.

Of course it would come to this. Fool she had been not to realize it sooner.

Dirthamen.

She rose to her feet and moved towards the window.

Keeper of secrets, keeper of whispers, keeper of knowledge.

“You are lost, and soon you shall fade…”

Her hand extended into the mist, into the gray, out of Vigil’s Keep.

The raven brought her one message, the one she had anticipated.

It’s time.

She whirled from the window, her arms flung wide, the door across the room swinging open with a crash, the light on the nightstand extinguishing. She strode towards the hall. Halted.

Sentimental fool.

She spun, in spite of herself, and grabbed the amulet, hanging it around her neck like an executioner’s noose. Exactly what it was.

Wasted seconds. Seconds were all she had.

She flew out into the hall, torches blowing out as she passed, and flung herself at the last door by the back staircase. The closest to escape.

The room’s sole occupant shot up in bed as the door banged open, dressed beneath the tangled sheets, her hair falling wildly across her face, her eyes gaping stupidly, lips parted as if in shock.

“Time to fly, little Hawke.”

Velanna took the staff from beside the doorway and flung it at the awakened dreamer, who had risen to her knees and was looking wildly about her. Skittish doe, Velanna thought grimly to herself. Never had a creature been more unsuitably named.

“They’re here?” Bethany Hawke whispered.

Velanna, too preoccupied to suitably rebuke her, gave a quick nod. “Go.”

“But what about --” “I’ll distract them. Go.” Velanna grabbed her arm and threw her out into the hallway. Bethany caught herself, shakily leaning against the wall, and gave Velanna a nod of acknowledgement. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line, her lips no longer quivering, but her eyes were wide, filled with terror.

She turned without another word and hurried down the spiral staircase that led out of the fortress.

Velanna stood in the empty halls, illuminated in flashes by the lightning outside, and felt suddenly paralyzed. So much history. So much lost. So much to protect.

The Amaranthine Seven. Indestructible. Immortal.

Iconoclast.

A shudder ran through her body. She allowed herself to pause, to breathe. Bethany would have reached courtyard by now. She had time.

She walked down the length of the hall, her fingers brushing the cold stone as she walked.

She closed her eyes. She felt the lyrium that coursed through her veins, slowly inhaled, and willed the wind to bend to her. She heard the howling, the sudden force blowing open every door in the keep, extinguishing every flame. The beginnings of a smile curled at her lips.

Come. Yes, come to us now, bring your justice, bring your rage, bring your justice and your flaming sword.

The Tevinter motto she had come across so many times, read so many times, and yet never understood.

Let justice be done, though the heavens fall.

Her eyes remain closed as she glided down the hall she had walked so many times before, walked now for the last time. She stepped around the corpses that lined the floor, clad in blue and grey, soaked with red. Her hand curled into a fist and slowly released, the last of the Ferelden wardens bursting into flames.

She made her way down the stairs, stepped through the throne room, the hearth still burning, clinging to life. No more. She passed by it, sighed as it froze. It was too late for regrets.

The steps where Anora had lain, having drunk too much Scotch, her golden hair fanned out around her, hands covering her rosy cheeks, her laugh echoing through the great hall. Here the queen of Ferelden had grabbed Nathaniel’s arm, eyes wide, and spoken in the voice of a conspiratorial delinquent, “my father will never hear of this.”

Here Anders had staggered towards his chamber, arms overflowing with Sigrun’s various stolen trinkets, the boon of the only card game he ever won. Velanna still didn’t know how he’d done it.

Here Nathaniel had busted his grandfather’s lute over the hearth, because no family heirloom was worth enduring another drunken performance from Anders.

Here Fergus had raised a toast to the generation of the Dragon Age, the last of their names, the bringers of the Golden Age. Here the last of the Couslands, the last Theirin, the last Howes, the last daughter of the Mac Tirs raised had clinked their glasses, wine spilling over the rims, staining the rug beneath their feet, the rug Velanna walked across now. It was stained now with a red deeper than wine.

Here Oghren had pulled off Justice’s finger after an arm wrestling match by mistake. It had all seemed very hilarious to the men at the time.

And here, at last, here was where Justice grabbed her by the shoulders, bony fingers struggling to keep their grip, torn flesh hanging from the hideous empty eye socket.

Think of what we could accomplish.

She’d called him foolish at the time. She’d smacked the rotting hand away, disgusted. And yet still, after all that had happened, the thought would not leave her; it should have been her. It should have been her.

Too late.

She raised her arms slowly, the doors creaking open, and summoned the forces that were as she willed. The wind whipped at her face, the cold rain stinging her flesh painfully, her tears freezing on her face. For this, all for this. Tainted, plagued, maimed.

Damned.

Her fingers trembled as she lowered herself to her knees. She closed her eyes and dug her nails into her palms. The trees around her stirred; the statue of Andraste’s foundations cracked; roots tore at the earth.

Her nails bit deeper into her flesh, breaking the skin; blood dripped through her fists.

The trees shook, quaked, moaned. The ground broke. The forest danced, slowly, menacingly, awakening to her; lightning flashed and set fire to their limbs; Velanna panted, bled, whispered frantically under her breath. She couldn't stop if she wanted to. Not now.

Her fingers extended, blood running down from her palms to their tips, and began to trace on the stone steps of the keep. This place, where peasants once stood and pleaded for bread, where Oghren fainted in a pool of his own blood, where they dragged Sile off.

Sile.

The amulet around her neck grew heavy, a weight, pulling her down, sinking her, drowning her.

Fire raged; the sky unleashed its floods; electricity coursed through the air; blood dripped from her fingers.

Her eyes darted to the gallows and pleaded, silently, fruitlessly, for Bethany to hurry.

Her head was light. Blood loss. No; the bleeding had stopped. It wasn’t enough.

She bore her teeth, the wind tearing at her hair, the rain cold on her face, streaming down with the tears that burned her eyes; she slowly lifted her arm up to her lips, trembling.

In war, victory.

At any cost. Any cost. Any --

She looked up sharply, a shock running through her body. They were here.

Et pereat mundus.

She sank her teeth into her arm. Screamed in pain. She tore the flesh away and rose slowly to her feet, defiantly, deliberately. She pushed back her shoulders, raised her chin, spread her arms before her.

The templars approached to see the figure standing before them, blood dripping from her mouth, her lips pulled back in a red snarl, the wind and rain whipping at her face, her hair, her clothes. She was beautiful. She was terrible. A monster they wanted, a monster they got.

She saw their eyes. They were frightened.

She needed them frightened.

“What else?” she screamed, above the wind, above the rain, above the rumble of the earth, the swaying of the trees.  “What else do you want?”

“Melificar!”

She felt the force of the templar’s cleanse before she saw the speaker, her mind burning, her insides momentarily paralyzed. She gasped in for breath, struggled to fight the numbness. Struggled to push back. She was going to faint. Her teeth gritted. Don’t let them see you flinch. Anything else.

She gripped the stone wall of the fortress behind her, breathing raggedly, eyes wildly searching for the assaulter; only one of them, one imbecile who hadn’t yet realized that they needed her. Her mind pushed back against the invisible shield; the banner they carried bearing the chantry symbol burst into flames.

The templar who had been holding it yelped and dropped it, the fire catching at their feet. Two of them frantically cleansed the spell; the one nearest to her whirled, drawing his sword. She was grinning, blood still dripping from her teeth. Fierce, terrible, an animal.

She might have been a Keeper, once. She might have been a hero.

Another time, another life.

She felt the rage coursing through her veins, the blood pulsing through the wound on her arm.

Let them feel it; let them suffer. For all they had taken from her, for the souls they condemned.

For every family she had ever known.

They took it all.

Curling fingers. Let their blood boil. Let them know what it was to be consumed by a fire that had ignited long before they were born.

She sighed and closed her eyes; she was nearing sweet delirium now. The worst for her was over.

She heard their screams. Her eyes fluttered open to see them on their knees.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled.

She was smiling now.

“Halt!” A man from the back of the hoard stepped forward. He wore no helmet. Not a Seeker; not a lyrium deprived husk, either. She was puzzled enough by his appearance to loosen her grip; the gasping templar’s hands went to their throat, heaving great labored sighs, the red draining down from their faces.

“We come on behalf of Divine Justinia. I seek only information.”

Velanna narrowed her eyes. “You won’t find any.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “I have been charged in seeking the assistance of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden --”

“I am no warden.”

“No?” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you not Velanna, one of the Amaranthine wardens who served under Sile Cousland?”

“Don’t say her name,” she hissed.

“But you did swear the --”

“I swore an oath to her.” Her voice rose in hysteria. “No one else!”

“I understand.” He took a step forward.

Velanna opened a palm, a flame flickering in warning. “No closer!”

“All right.” He held up both his hands, his tone sickening, patronizing. She wanted to call up the roots under the ground he tread to strangle him. Not yet. “We wish to find her.” Velanna folded her arms and stared at them. “She isn’t here.”

“We fear for her safety.”

She snorted gracelessly. “Do you think me vapid?” “We have reason to believe that the disappearance of Sile Cousland is related to the incident in Kirkwall.”

Velanna’s blood ran cold. “She wasn’t there.”

“We are not implicating her,” the man said quickly. “We believe she can be of great help.”

Velanna began to laugh then, a shrill, feverish sound that bubbled up in her chest, threatening to strangle her, bursting forth in torrents. “You think she would help the chantry? After all that you’ve done?” “What happened in Kirkwall --”

“If you’re so concerned about Kirkwall,” Velanna cried, “why don’t you seek answers there?”

“We have people there,” he said. “We have a source we believe can enlighten us as to the location of the Champion.” “Run to your source, then,” Velanna sniffed. “You’ll find no help here.” The man shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Our source is...unreliable.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Mythal curse them, they’d taken the bloody dwarf.

She folded her arms. “I don’t know where Sile Cousland is.”

“We have reason to believe otherwise.” He stepped forward again. The buzzing in her ears returned. Someone must have cracked.

“You are the last person to see Sile Cousaland in Ferelden, are you not?” “What have you done?” she asked, realization hitting her in the stomach, taking the air from her lungs. There was no response. She shrieked again, “What have you done?” She hadn’t believed it when she’d first heard the rumblings of an inquisition.

So it had come to this, after all.

“I cannot stress the importance of your cooperation,” the man continued, his pretense of friendship rapidly cracking. “Ferelden’s insubordination has been of great concern to the Chantry. We don’t wish to be driven to drastic measures --” Her head was spinning. An Exalted March. They were threatening a bloody Exalted March.

She swayed on her feet. The hysteria rose in her throat again, and she collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. She doubled over, clamping a hand over her mouth, attempting to smother herself. It was futile.

“You insolent heathen --” one of the men strode forward, sword in hand. Their diplomat did not make an effort to dissuade him this time.

“What could possibly be funny?” The man in the front asked, frowning.

“You’re finished,” she seethed through her teeth. “You’re done. The Chantry -- is crumbling --” The blow landed on the side of her face, knocking her to her side.

She spit out a stream of blood and grinned. “You’re desperate.” He kicked her this time; she could feel her ribs snapping. She doubled over, gritting her teeth. She raised her eyes to glare at the lackeys. Pathetic.

“You’re going to fall,” she rasped. “Like the Tevinter Imperium before you.”

Another kick between the ribs.

“Bring her in,” one of the men ordered. “It’ll take awhile to break this one.” She eyed the sword in the nearest Templar’s hand. She’d known this could happen.

She would run herself through before she would be taken by the Chantry.

There was a split second as the templar leaned down; she reached for the sword with her hands. The blade cut deep into her bleeding palms. Blood. Yes, there was still enough --

She summoned the last remaining willpower in her body. The blood rose from her skin, swirled, and knocked her captors back. She dragged herself towards where the blade fell, her hand on her broken chest, her hand reaching out desperately, agonizingly.

A templar boot crushed her hand. She screamed out in pain.

But the sound she heard was not her scream.

The scent of burning flesh knocked her back.

Her eyes rose up to the shrieking templar before her, his skin blistering under the flames.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“You idiot!” she attempted to shriek, but the pain was excruciating. She croaked and spit out another mouthful of blood instead.

“I couldn’t leave you,” Bethany’s voice was suddenly beside her. “I’m not going to lose anyone else.”

“You’ll die,” Velanna rasped between breaths, “you absolute cretin.”

Bethany laughed then, a sound she hadn’t heard since the girl had fled Kirkwall with Nate. “Carver used to call me that.”

The templars were regianing themselves; magic was useless now. Bethany sank to her knees in resignation.

“Kill them!”

“No, you idiot, that’s Bethany Hawke --”

Bethany lay down beside Velanna then and grabbed her unbroken hand, squeezing it.

“We’re already dead, remember?” she whispered.

Velanna only managed a slight nod.

There was a sudden commotion behind them; Bethany sat bolt upright. The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air; a templar fell down in Velanna’s line of sight, pierced straight through the eye. She excruciatingly rolled her head to the other side, wincing at the brain matter that splattered on her face with the second felled templar.

The diplomat staggered forward, clutching his throat, gurgling blood, he fell face forward onto the earth.

A hooded figure stood over him, a bloodied knife in hand.

“You,” Bethany said, her eyes widening.

The hood fell back, exposing the red hair beneath. Leliana’s eyes were grim, her mouth compressed into a thin line.

“We’re out of time.”

[megamanx1994]

SVTFOE & SF Warriors of Karate Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The team up (Disclaimer!!! I own nothing of SVTFOE or SF!) Previously: His parents saw them. "What happened?" asked his mom. "The biggest thing happened," said Marco, "Should we tell them." "We don't have a choice," said Star. "We were having a fun time at the dance, and them monsters showed up," said Marco. "And then when Marco was fighting them, he suddenly shot fireballs!" said Star. Marco showed them. They looked at Star. "I didn't do any magic to prove this," said Star. "She's telling the truth," said Marco. "Its not that son... I believe you both," said his dad. "Its just that we knew this day would come," said his mom. "What day?" asked Marco. "The day we tell you the truth," said his mom. "The thing is..... you were..... found by us," said his dad. "Say what now?!" asked Marco. NOW “What do you mean I was found?” asked Marco. “You were left here by someone,” said his mom, “Your father and I were enjoying a day out, when we saw a basket.” She remembered when she saw the basket with a child. “There was a baby inside the basket, alone, and abandoned,” said his mother, “So we took him in and raised it as if it was our own child……” “But he had an extraordinary gift, and we knew that it wasn’t normal,” said his dad, “We were going to wait until you were 18….. but now that we’ve seen your power, we figured now would be the good time to tell you.” “So…… I’m not your son?” asked Marco. “Oh…. Sweetie of course you’re our son,” said his mom as he gave him a hug, “You just come from a different family.” Marco looked down on the floor. Later Marco was looking up at the sky. Star joined him. “Are you ok?” she asked. “It just happened all of a sudden,” said Marco, “I find out that I’m not part of their family.” “Well they think you’re still their son,” she said, “There’s some good news.” “Yeah,” said Marco, “But still, it’s a lot to take in.” “Come on, you’ve faced worse,” she said. “I guess so,” said Marco. Star laid on his shoulder. “Besides, we had a fun night,” said Star. “Yeah,” said Marco. Ludo was sitting on his throne. “You monsters really need to work out or something,” he said, “Its no wonder why Butterfly always beats us!” “Perhaps I could be of assistance,” said a stranger. Everyone was looking at a man in the shadows. “Who are you suppose to be?” asked Ludo. “I am known by many names,” said the stranger, “The mastermind of evil, the bringer of chaos, the warlord, but you can call me…… M. Bison.” Bison appeared from the shadows. “I know you,” said Tom, “You tried to take over the world, but your plans were destroyed.” “Yes,” said Bison, “Those fools believe they’ve gotten rid of me, but I have come back from the dead seeking revenge.” “So what do you want from us?” asked Ludo. “I could not help but overhear your plan to summon together a team of fighters, and I think I know how to help with that,” said M Bison. “Really?” asked Tom. “Let us join forces,” said Bison, “I can make your monsters stronger while bringing new soldiers, and you can rid yourself of your rodent problem.” “I like it,” said Ludo with a grin, “Now I can finally get my hands on that wand.” “Wand?” asked Bison. “It’s a powerful wand that gives whoever wields it unlimited power,” said Ludo. “I could use that,” he said, “We have a deal.” He shook Ludo’s hand. “Not so hard,” he said. Gakuen was meditating when he felt something. “Its just as I feared,” he said, “We must be ready for the fight.” Later, Star was sleep and she was having a nightmare about St Olga’s reform school. Tom had finished off Marco and he was done for. He turned to Star and he and another man in the shadows moved closer to her. “Say goodbye Star,” he said, “Forever.” "No!" she said, "Please don't!!!" "Too late," said the stranger. He got out some scalpels and went for her forehead. Star woke up screaming. Marco came down. “What is it?” he asked, “What’s wrong?” “I had a nightmare about St Olga’s,” said Star with tears in her eyes. “You mean that Reform school?” asked Marco. “Yes,” said Star, “It was horrible…. Tom hurt you and then he tried to experiment on me…. I feel like my mother’s just gonna send me there because I’m a mistake.” She started to cry. “All I do is make things worse,” said Star. Marco sat by her bedside. “You’re not a mistake Star,” said Marco, “And sure, your magic can be strange at times, but you always manage to make things right again. You’re my best friend and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove your parents that you’re a great princess.” Star started to smile. “Thank you,” she said as she hugged him. “Well, I should get to bed,” said Marco. Star stopped him. “Um…. Could you stay with me until I sleep?” she asked. Marco thought to himself. “She’s my friend and I can’t leave her upset,” he said in his head. “Ok,” he said After a while Star leaned over to him. “Marco?” she asked. “Yeah?” he asked. “Thanks for staying with me and making me feel better,” she said. She kissed his cheek. Marco smiled and laid back down. “Good night Star,” he said. (Who is Marco’s father? What is M. Bison planning to do with the wand? Why am I asking you all these questions?! Tune in and find out!!!)

[swtdisasters]

meet laila bishop

► basics;

Full Name: laila alexandra bishop Age: 28 Birthday:  December 21at, 1989 Sexual Orientation: bisexual Relationship Status:  single Religion: atheists Occupation: Graphic Designer  Nationality: English/American Species: Witch           ► Abilities; enhanced senses, immortality, shapeshifting, enhanced healing. (while                      transformed) enhanced speed, enhanced agility, enhanced strength, and enhanced                      endurance

► background;

Place of Birth: Salem, OR Hometown: Salem, OR Education: Bachelor of Fine Arts in Graphic Design, Master of Business Administration 

► physical;

Faceclaim: Claire Holt Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Blonde Height: 5′7 Weight: 130 Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars:  poppies on her lefft forearm 

► relatives;

Father’s Full Name: Ryan Bishop Father’s Status: Deceased  Mother’s Full Name: Hannah Crownwell Mother’s Status: Deceased Siblings: None Uncle: Samuel Bishop Uncle Status: Alive Aunt: Robin Bishop Uncle Status: Alive

► personality;

Positive Traits: fun loving, positive, hard working, adventurous  Negative Traits: vengeful, quick to judge, vicious 

► misc;

Hobbies: Boxing, Hiking, Crafts, Browsing old record shops Favorite Book: The Grimm Tales Favorite Music Artist: The Killers Favorite Subject: Art Pets: NA Habits: Having one head phone in, speeding, foot tapping

► BIOGRAPHY; 

December 21st is a day that was supposed to bring about the change the Bishops, the winter solstice was the day they were the strongest and their power simply thrived. But in the year of 1989, it was the day Ryan and Hannah would welcome their daughter Laia to the world. The prophecy stated that the child of two powerful witch families would be born under the full moon on the longest day of the year, and that witch would become the head of both families. The most powerful, insightful, talented witch to be seen in generations. While this was a joyful occasion for most of the family, some saw it was a chance to be reedeemed. 

The history of the Bishops run deep, creating veins within the family that ran in two very different directions. The light side of the family who lived among the mortals, using the abilities for good and the betterment of their kind. And the dark side, who hold a deep seated grudge against the human race for crimes against their family. Crimes running as far back as the execution of women accused of being witches in Salem. The funny thing about the Salem Witch Trials was the fact that they only ever got it right once and it was the very first person that faced the stake. Emily Bishop, the first woman to be executed by fire and a Bishop witch. Her death began a battle against good and evil the world had never expected. 

Ryan and Hannah Bishop were born of the light and saw the good in the world. They were two young witches who met on a sidewalk and the rest was history. The pair wed just a year after their first meeting and their daughter was welcomed into the world just two more years after that.  And they could not of been happier. The three remained in Salem, embracing the history of their people and taking the adversity as a chance to grow.

Laila was a happy girl, born of the light of the mood and gifted beyond recognition. Usually a child’s magic ability did not show first signs until the age of puberty. She was special and the prophecy was true. The young girl’s powers arrived on her first birthday, taking her parents by utter surprise. They were forced into starting her training as soon as she was able, starting with what was bad and what was good. From then on, Laila was taught that the light was the only way to live a happy life. At the age of four, she was completing spells that most witches were even too scared to try. As proud of her as they were, her parents were worried.

Intuition told them they needed to be careful, to stay clear. They ignored that feeling to give their daughter a life she deserved. That, however, came crashing down on Laila’s fifth birthday. A fire in the Bishop cottage claimed the life of Hannah and Ryan. Many in the family believed the fire to be foul play, though the fire department ruled it to be an electrical problem. And some believed their death came at the hands of their daughter, gifted with magic she could not control. This fear hindered most from stepping forth and taking the young girl into their care, leaving her to Samuel and Robin Bishop. Her aunt and uncle were not born of the light, but were baptized into the darkness and the hate. They wanted to get revenge on the mortals and their plan was to use Laia to do it.

The rest of her teenage years were bathed in darkness. She learned spells most witches swore to never do, she mastered the dark arts, and the bid into the sweet siren song of the darkness. How could she not? That was the only life she knew and the only love she had ever been shown. 

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, a mysterious gift was left for her on the window sill. A witches glass, gifted with the truth that defined her whole life. For until this very moment, Laila believed she was the reason for her parent’s death and had been punishing herself ever since. But the glass told the story through the eyes of her mother. It was not an electrical fire, it was not her own magic, but it was the evil of her aunt and uncle that burned her parents. The people who had cared for her were only using her as a pawn. They wanted her to become a chaos the world had never known, so they killed her parents to see that it happened.

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, Laila lost control for the first time in her life. Black flames licked at her boots as she watched the home she grew to love and know burn to a crisp. It was a warning to her aunt and uncle, to run now before Laila had a chance to find them. For their mission to bring chaos had failed, instead, giving birth to one of the greatest bringer of peace.

Laila set out in the world on her own, learning the secrets she had been sheltered from her whole life. She learned that there were more supernatural things out there, from vampires to phoenixes who rose from the ashes. She took to the world and fell in love the the curiosities that it had to offer. It was then she realized that she was born of the moonlight, someone of goodness but had a darkness inside that was destined to be there. She could see the best in people, but was not fooled by the demons inside. She took to hunting, riding the world of the evil spirits and creatures that threatened the peace. By day, she studied and worked towards a normal life. By night, she trained to protect herself and she studied the beasts she knew nothing about. 

Laila knew now that she was born to be something more than a Salem witch or a bringer of darkness. She knew she was born to protect those who could not protect themselves.

; give this a ❤︎ if you’re interested in plotting with Laila ;

[oumakokichi]

What's your view on Ouma and Saihara's relationship?

Oh my god, thank you so much for asking this. This isactually one of the things I’ve wanted to write about the most lately!

I’m going to reference some of Ouma’s FTEs in my answer, soI’d like to thank @kaibutsushidousha for translating them all to English! ThoseFTEs gave me a lot of insight on things, and were incredibly fun to read, so ifanyone hasn’t checked them out already, I’d say go take a look!

My explanation’s probably gonna get long, and it WILL include spoilers for pretty much every part ofthe game, so anyone who wants to avoid spoilers shouldn’t read past this part!

First, let me start by saying I think Ouma is the smartestcharacter in the entire game. Moreso than the mastermind. Moreso than Saihara. He’snot “the mastermind” himself, but he IS one step ahead of just about every single othercharacter, and he’s clever as hell about guiding the rest of them subtly to theinformation he knows while simultaneously making it seem as if he just wants tomess with them.

Ouma’s title is SHSL Supreme Leader. He has charisma, he hasan adorable, childlike quality, and he has the ability to lie his ass off. Ifhe really, truly got off on making others suffer, or if he enjoyed the killinggame half as much as he pretends to for the first four chapters, he could havewooed them all from the moment he met them, earned their trust, and then soldthem out to Monokuma (for one cornchip, etc. etc.). I honestly believe he’ssmart enough that he could have killed everysingle member of that game if he had actually planned to.

But Ouma’s goal is very specific, and in order to obtainthat goal he needs Saihara. Where Ouma and Kaede disagreed on the basis of howto lead the group on a very fundamental level, I feel as if Saihara’s morehesitant approach both to leadership and to pursuing the truth is exactly whatOuma wants. Someone has to take on the role of leading the group, and whileOuma certainly could, he definitely doesn’t want to. He wants someone else todo it, so that he can continue with his own plans in the shadows. And Saihara, slowly coming out of his shell and beginning to finally,seriously weigh the consequences of pursuing the real truth of a matter versusthe perceived truth of a matter, is just the one he wants.

I think he’s a parallel to Saihara in every way conceivable.I’ve seen people call Ouma the new Komaeda of the fandom, but what I don’tthink people quite get is that he’s intentionally similar to Komaeda on a fewfronts, yes—but he’s also a subversionof everything Komaeda was in sdr2.

I remember people talking about how the conflict betweenHinata and Komaeda was originally supposed to be between Hinata and Akane,given the context of their first and last names (Hajime and Owari, beginningand end). That concept sadly didn’t get implemented in favor of giving the conflict-bringerrole to Komaeda at the time, but I feel as if now it’s finally come back aroundvia Saihara and Ouma (although don’t get me wrong, I would love to see anactual female protagonist or deuteragonist for this trope and not a bait-and-switch).

The theme of ndrv3 is truth versus lies, and the greymorality that stretches between them. Reality, fiction, black, white, all thesethings are heavily emphasized even in Saihara and Ouma’s character designs. And at everyopportunity, these two are shown on opposing sides of class trials and debates. 

But I don’t take this to mean the relationship between the two of them ishostile. If anything, I think it’s exactly the opposite. I think Ouma is tryingto guide Saihara into solving things that he already knows the answer to, allthe while acting as if he enjoys antagonizing or wreaking havoc in order tofool Monokuma into thinking he would never, ever present a threat to thekilling game itself. And Saihara is smart enough to realize he’s being led,even if most of Ouma’s thought process remains an enigma to him.

Ouma’s FTEs highlight this perfectly. Throughout all ofthem, Ouma plays games with Saihara, and claims that at the end of a set numberof events, he’s going to “have to kill him” for knowing about the existence ofhis supposed secret, evil organization. And although he could win these gameseasily time and time again, he chooses notto. He teases Saihara and slowly nudges him in whichever direction he wants himto go, and at the end of it all, he loses on purpose, because his objective wasnever to win in the first place.

If that’s not a perfect analogy for how Ouma behaves inevery single one of the trials, I don’t know what is. His resourcefulness andperceptiveness suggests that he knows the answer to just about all of thembefore they even start. In Chapter 2, he even makes an offhanded, amusedcomment about how he “didn’t even read the Monokuma file.” And in hindsight Irealized that of course he didn’t, because he already guessed that Kirumi wasthe culprit by knowing that she had received her own motive video.

At any point in time, he could have chosen to lie blatantlyand condemn the group, and therefore get them all killed, or come clean withthe info and be considered a leader and a savior to all of them. Instead hedoes neither, and teases out the answers in the trial at his own pace. At onepoint when no one, not even Saihara can guess how the culprit climbed up to thegym window, Ouma even goes completely blank-faced before “randomly” taking thediscussion in another direction. And Saihara even asks point-blank if that wasOuma’s way of trying to give him a hint (to which Ouma, being Ouma, respondsthat he has nooo idea what he’s talking about).

Ouma’s not even really what I would call the Komaeda ofndrv3. If anything, he’s the Kirigiri. With an actual detective in theprotagonist role, Ouma instead tails Saihara’s every step when exploring newareas, always acting as if he’s come around to annoy him or the others. But thewhiteboard in his room, the statue of Amami, and his decision to stage a case that not even Monokuma could possibly know the entire “truth” of in Chapter 5,all suggests that he was investigating absolutely everything, running his owntheories and guesses parallel to Saihara’s.

And while I think Saihara is certainly uncomfortable withsome aspects of Ouma’s character and finds him inscrutable, I also think that preciselybecause of his own inability to pinpoint Ouma’s true objectives andpersonality, he’s curious. He’s a detective, so it’s only natural. A characterlike Ouma presents so many mysteries that anyone with a penchant for solvingthose mysteries would be intrigued. Saihara wants to see more of “Ouma’s trueself,” despite Ouma’s consistent efforts to make sure absolutely no one wouldever like him or get close to him.

As Saihara develops and grows throughout the course of thekilling game, again and again he’s led along from trial to trial, given hints,and not-so-gently nudged in the right direction by a perceptive, incrediblyintelligent character with all the patience of a 10-year-old. And just as Kaedeentrusted her will to Saihara and he learned many things from her in Chapter 1,I can’t help but feel as if Ouma’s death in Chapter 5 was meant to mirror that.As Kaede died framed as a culprit but beloved by everyone, her intentions ofsaving them made clear, Ouma dies as a victim but hated by everyone, suspected,doubted, and with his motives unknown to all of them.

Ouma didn’t want to die if he could help it, but he trusted Saiharaenough that he believed he could continue leading the group—without being ledalong anymore—and thus willingly sacrificed himself for the sake of forcing awrench into all of Monokuma’s plans. And Saihara, while still undoubtedlyskeptical as to whether he ever really knew the true Ouma at all, neverthelesssteps into this role, and does catch on to the truth of things in the followingchapter.

This got way longer than I planned for it to, but therelationship between these two is central to the entire story. Regardless ofwhether or not you ship them romantically, I don’t think anyone can deny thattheir dynamic is still extremely important to the plot, or that they’re bothparalleling and observing each other’s actions every step of the way.

Ouma has what I would consider to be pretty canon feelingsfor Saihara. Call him a liar all you want, but without an undeniable interestin Saihara (or a huge crush the size of a brick), there’d be literally noexplanation at all for his actions. Mysteries are meant to be solvable, andthat means Ouma himself is no exception. Rather than pure chaos, his actions arefueled by an interest in Saihara and a desire for pushing him into center stageso that he himself can better undermine Monokuma’s plans.

And Saihara…well, he’s uncomfortable with Ouma’s cold,calculating nature and his tendency to flip-flop from one extreme to the other,make no mistake. But without his interest in Ouma, he would never have come toseriously question the meaning of the word “truth” or the nature of reality versusfiction versus belief. He also probably would have died about ten times over ifhe’d just flat-out doubted Ouma every time instead of trusting on instinct thatOuma was throwing him a bone, rather than hanging him out to dry.

All in all, they’re a very interesting, very fun dynamic,and I do ship them together myself. I just hope the fandom comes to understandtheir relationship a little more and doesn’t immediately assume the worst aboutit.

[ship-ambrosia]

Jerza Week, Day 7

This is late again too and I'm sorry! But I'm glad I got out a piece I loved and thank you to everyone who supported my works for this week! I was actually pretty nervous as I had never written Erza or Jellal much before this week. This one doesn't focus on their relationship as much, but Jellal's with my daughter for them. I think Jellal would make a great, loving father, but that he'd also have a lot of baggage that comes with the things he's done in the past.

Be sure to check out Heavens Bringer on AO3, and stay tune for my Jerza Week compilation.

Summary: Jellal and Erza's youngest daughter asks about her namesake, opening up old wounds and guilt for her father.

~

Jellal had never planned to keep the man he had been for all those years a secret from his children or those of his friends. What had happened to him was common knowledge across the continent, as well known as how strong a mage he was. The Tower of Heaven had hurt a lot of people; even some who hadn't been enslaved in the tower, such as Yukino or Kagura. Surely, his children would meet people one day who knew who he was and hated him, and he never wanted them to have to find out the things he had done from someone else.

Still, he had been caught off guard one day when his youngest daughter asked him about who she was named after.

"Well," Jellal started slowly, after he had guided six-year-old Simone Fernandes to the couch of the small home that he and Erza had bought shortly after she discovered her pregnancy with their older daughter. He scratched his chin, looking for the right words to say as his thoughts settled from the chaos they'd been thrown into when she asked. "What made you wonder?"

"Auntie Kagura mentioned it the last time I was with her and Auntie Millianna," she answered honestly, kicking her feet. "She said that I was very smart for my age, and that it reminded her exactly of my namesake. But when I asked her what she meant, she only told me to ask you, daddy."

Jellal let out a breath. The words had probably slipped out of Kagura's mouth out of joy, not bitterness. It was clearly a mistake, and she'd remedied it by telling Simone to ask him. Still, his stomach churned nauseously at the thought of his daughter's namesake. Yes, it had been years and years ago, and yes, he'd been brainwashed at the time, and yes, Erza, Millianna, even Kagura had forgiven him. But he still saw the man haunting his dreams, forever reminding him that he could never truly undo every trauma he had inflicted.

"You were named after a man named Simon Mikasuchi," he explained to her slowly, thinking out every word very carefully. "He is Aunt Kagura's older brother, and a very close friend to me and your mother."

Her eyes sparkled with interest. "How come I've never met him?"

"He... passed away. Some time ago, long before I even joined Fairy Tail."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Simone answered, and she was silent for a long time. Long enough that he thought the subject was over; until she spoke again. "What was he like?"

"Well, he was very strong; he was a wizard, too, just like your mother and I, and Aunt Kagura. He was loyal and protective, and extremely intelligent. And he was never easily fooled," Jellal chuckled a bit, thinking of the next thing he would say. "And he loved your mother just like I do. If he was still around, I might've had to fight him for her."

Simone giggled too, crawling into her father's lap and hugged him around the torso. "But you still would've won, right daddy?"

He brushed his fingers through her dark purple hair and nodded to himself. "Mmhm. No one loves your mother as much as I do. And besides, if she didn't pick me, then you and Scarlet would be someone else! You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Simone stuck out her tongue. "I wouldn't mind if Scarlet was someone else."

He laughed again as he gently scolded her for saying that about her sister, although on the inside he was cracking at the seams. Memories of that day flashed in his mind, sounds and voices and images that made his skin burn. He hugged Simone a little tighter, hoping his answers had satisfied her for now.

"What happened to him, daddy?"

Again, he never wanted to keep the things he had done a secret from Scarlet or Simone, but it felt wrong to tell his daughter at this age that he had once killed someone by his own hand, who had also meant a lot to him. Simone was extremely intelligent for her age, just like her sister, but he was certain that she wouldn't understand. She'd be afraid of her own father. He and Erza had only recently begun to explain the Tower of Heaven to Scarlet, who was three years older than Simone, and Jellal had just gotten to the part where he had been brainwashed. Even though Simone was too young, he didn't want to lie to her either.

"Simon was killed," he answered, cringing a little at his own words. They themselves brought so many dark memories swirling to the surface. "Someone else very close to your mother, they were not themselves and in a moment of dark madness they killed him."

His daughter was silent for a moment, frightening Jellal. She seemed to mull this information over as he spiraled further into his depressing memories.

At the end of the day, he had only ever confronted his feelings over the matter once. He had tried to atone for his actions by destroying the Nirvana with a self-destruction circle, or by fighting evil while part of Crime Sorciere. It had been enough for many others. Enough for Erza, Natsu, Gray, Lucy, and everyone else in Fairy Tail, who had agreed to protecting him during the Grand Magic Games when he disguised himself as his Edolas counterpart, Jellal Mystogan; for the allies of the people that he and Meredy cared about, such as Lyon from Lamia Scale or Sting, Rogue, and Yukino of Sabertooth; for even Kagura and Millianna, both who had previously vowed to personally see to his death; for Sho and Wally too, who had been just as close to Simon as the rest of them; for the former members of the Oracion Seis, who had all suffered under his madness at the Tower of Heaven but yet had been inspired enough by his work to join Crime Sorciere, of which he was eternally grateful; for Queen Hisui, who knew of his crimes and yet pardoned him and the others for their efforts in bringing peace back to the kingdom and the Magic Council who had agreed with her and even eventually reappointed him to the Ten Wizard Saints.

"What happened to the person who killed Auntie Kagura's brother?"

Jellal couldn't help it, he avoided his daughter's gaze. "Your mother, and Aunt Kagura and Aunt Millianna forgave him. Because he tried very hard to make up for what he'd done, and they accepted it."

When Simone's small hand grabbed his, he looked up to her. And he realized in that moment that she was so intelligent for her age that she had figured it out without him telling her. She knew he, her father, was the one who had killed another man who loved her mother, the man that her parents had named her after.

"But he's not mad anymore, right daddy?" She asked softly, hugging him tightly again. "He's himself now right?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Then I think that he needs to forgive himself. If he isn't the same as before, I think Auntie Kagura's brother would want that too."

Jellal looked down at his young daughter once more while she buried her face against him. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew. Kagura was right, Simone was quiet but incredibly intelligent, just like the man he had once known. They had named her sister Scarlet Belserion Fernandes, and true to Erza's history and heritage, their eldest daughter was a magical prodigy. But Simone, Simone Mika Fernandes, took after both of her namesakes, her aunt and her brother. Jellal was proud of her intelligence. Surely she could grow up into a formidable mage all her own.

And maybe one day, for his little girl, he could finally do what everyone else had and forgive himself.