#he's grown up with such a belief that magic is wrong and evil and cruel

[camelotreign]

arthur knew about merlin’s magic way before the final battle.      he was just never able to admit it to himself which is why he often joked about how merlin having magic was ridiculous.      arthur isn’t oblivious though,      he just didn’t want to believe it.      more than anything he was hurt that merlin didn’t trust him with his secret.

[numbaoneflaya]

Can I get a list of all ur ocs?

Well anon youve done it, you made me make a list of all my major OCS in one place. I hope your happy with yourself. Under the cut for obvious reasons, may link in my blog desc later.

Modern/BTD verse!!

Jilly- Ferret beastkin little creature, was recently turned into a werewolf by vincent as well so she's running around on full moons in a wereferret wolf hybrid creature form. Chaotic and friendly and wants to be everyone's bestie. She has the most energy in the world and is very kind hearted. Banned from most Claires for stealing and from one Home Depot for climbing the shelves. Prone to living life with rose colored glasses on and seeing the best in everything/everything even when there's nothing there. Socialization is a must for her and is why being basemented/kidnapped broke her psych so quickly and developed severe stockholm. Sometimes overly talkative/enthusiastic and can scare people off. Even if she sees someone shes decided shes friends with be noticeably 'evil', will convince herself it must be for some reason/her fault and ignore it.

Ciggy- Undead punk still learning to harness his powers to interact with the world as a ghost. Was sacrificed by a cult he joined for free concert tickets and to get laid. Likes to cause problems on purpose both pre and prior death and he's not above possessing someone once he learns how to. Was called Rooster in high school before he dropped out because he's loud, obnoxious and always screaming. And also has bright red dyed hair. Looking 4 ways to become less ghosty bcs he wants to be able to help raise his infant daughter, whom he died before he could meet. Bit annoying and in your face, likes poking at bruises, his or others. Kind of a sad heart seeking attention through volume and persistence.

Mike: Vampire loser! Sells drugs and lives at raves. Was turned when she was attacked by a coked out vampire (whom she supplied the product to) and has major scarring on her face and chest. Needs a somewhat constant influx of blood so shell sometimes take victims back to her place and chain them up, slowly draining them over time. Feels bad (ish) about it tho so it is possible to survive her if you are nice and or interesting enough. Kind of desperate for a friend and for love. Is a stalker. If she likes you enough/finds you interesting, she might just appear in your house one night and start rummaging through your fridge like nothing is wrong and youve been besties for years. Its best to indulge her and be friendly, otherwise she could turn violent quickly if her feelings are hurt.

Kilaine- Regular human woman, but fucked up. Born and raised by an elite waspy society she had an interest in the human body and pain tolerance since she was young. Quickly learned that these traits were socially unacceptable in most professions, so she became a doctor. The only family she cared about was her younger sister who she lost in a car accident, where they were flipped over and trapped inside while it was afire. While her sister burned up in front of her Kilaine only lost her left arm and had major burns on her body. This tipped her descent into sadism and she is now madly obsessed with bringing her sister back no matter the cost. Rude and offstandish, clinical.

Dragon age verse!

Thurwen- My main Hero of Ferelden with a bad temper and a heart of gold. City elf from the Denerim Alienage, 18 at the start of origins. She's a reaver warrior with a lot of pent up rage which sometimes scares others when she lets it out in battle. Over the years she's grown less moody as she's had to take the role of Commander. Crude sense of humor and violent impulses, very sensitive to the plights of others and tries often to help. Never seen crying in public but only cries to herself at night- major martyr and hanged man complex.

Caz- My circle mage elf inquisitor who was an apostate before the conclave. Blood magic, but make it sneaky. Wary of strangers and new faces, always dealing with the impulse to flee/find a high vantage point. Endless curiosity about the unknown/ the forbidden/ naughty, was supposed to be made tranquil for it but she escaped. Kind of a little creature as well, lived on her own for a while as an apostate in the woods, filed her teeth down to sharp ends to make herself look more intimidating (shes 5 ft tall) and less cute (her elf ears are huge and expressive, which shes embarrassed about)

Dag and Thagna- Carta twins! Professional lyrium smugglers since birth pretty much. Raised casteless in dust town and had to work their way up the chain of command by themselves. Dag is the brother, Thagna the sister. Their father traded them to the carta for drinking money and their mom died in childbirth so they have somewhat of a codependent relationship. Both charismatic and calculating, friendly and agreeable but won't hesitate to put a dagger in your back. Hard to pin down morally or physically, squirrelly bastards.

Reila: Dalish elf who works for the inquisition/ is the inquisitor in some aus. She has an extreme fixation on elvhen history and rebuilding what they have lost. Not a people person, prefers solitude. Takes some time to warm up to shemhlen as she has a hard history with them. Good friends with Caz, who recruited her in the first place. Doesn't understand very many social cues and finds societal expectations limiting and frustrating. Fondness for halla and hooved animals, which she finds graceful.

Elder scrolls verse!

Valkya: Near seven foot nord woman whos over a thousand years old by the events of skyrim. Tall and buff, two handed warrior and compulsive hero there to bask in the spotlight save the day. She was killed at the start of the events of Elder scrolls online and had her soul ripped out and sent to coldharbor and she's just been a pain in the ass about it since then. Her body can physically die and will not regrow pieces. Her soul however will escape and teleport to the nearest source of power where her body will regrow from an aetherial plasm until its whole again. Loud and brash, friendly and jovial. Actually pretty keen especially after centuries of life but prefers to play dumb as it makes people underestimate her. Plus, she really does enjoy mud wrestling and drinking contests and acting generally like a rambunctious frat boy. Ha developed a bit of a substance problem and a problem with acting out, as after being alive so long she would turn to anything to dull the ache inside of her that never goes away.

Espira- My Dragonborn! Redguard from Hammerfell who was briefly in the Ash’abah due to killing undead while protecting her parents water farm as a child. Ran away from them after years and went to Cyrodille, then to Skyrim and was caught crossing the border. Reserved, kind and soft spoken, she's a sword and shield warrior who's committed herself to doing good in the world by helping others. Dislikes killing and anything messy but believes it is often necessary in order to protect the weak. She blacksmiths often to save money on the upkeep of her own equipment, and takes up metal jewelry working as a hobby with the excess material. Prone to trusting others too much and giving too many second chances, as shes always looking for ways to make even the most hardened criminal a second look at life.

Riley- Espiras little brother who she locked in the wardrobe during the event of the water farm attack. In preventing him from doing violence against the undead she kept him from being conscripted into the Ash’abah. He's way more chaotic than his sister, and suffers from a case of little sibling syndrome in which he will often pester/poke at people just to get a rise out of them. Still kind hearted as his sister, he tries to hide it because he believes that the world is a cruel place and the cruel survive. Despite that belief he is often still unable to force himself to be cruel/careless, only making a show of it so that others leave him alone and don't see that he's very sensitive and emotional. Deaf in one ear due to a magic mishap in his youth, he trained and enchanted his most beloved rats to live for years and sit on his shoulder, alerting him to noises he would not otherwise notice.

Felria: Evil vamp :/ chaotic evil dunmer necromancer. Small and devilish and likes dead bodies too much. Manipulative and cunning, she loves acting. She's a trained assassin for the dark brotherhood and is the speaker. Likes dressing up for missions and wearing disguises like its all a play. Loves toying with people more than she loves killing them, will act in ways that cause as much trauma as possible for other people just for fun and she finds the reactions interesting. Considers herself too far removed from most people's perception of morality and of her so it's hard for her to trust someone or see them as worthy of knowing her. Finds the psychology of grief and fear to be interesting and wants to study them first hand. The hero of kvatch.

Herren: Fifty something year old rat woman looking for something to keep her going. Ran away from her wealthy family in her youth when they wanted her to take charge of the household, instead became an infamous jewel thief and swashbuckler. Spent most of her life traveling and stealing and double dealing. She's smarmy and sarcastic, a serial romancer of the highest caliber. Bit of a show off and a hedonist, always looking for the next good party or new product to snort. Her family died off due to the hard times she wasn't there for and she keeps looking for bigger and bigger heists to fill her appetite as she's chronically bored and lonely, though wont accept intimacy and will scoff at it out of the belief she doesn't deserve it. Irresponsible and selfish, lonely and terrified of any sort of commitment. Fun to party with though!

[howimproper]

For Qingming x Boya. Qingming slowly changing Boyas mind about demons

So, this went in an unexpected direction but I can't say I don't love it 😂

A Road Less Travelled

When Qing Ming had contacted him via magic ear to set up a rendezvous, Boya hadn't thought in a million years that it would go this way.

Typically, it's to join forces for a hunt, (Boya is convinced this is no more than an excuse however, because those hunts are always well within Qing Ming's ability) or instances gaining in frequency simply to catch each other up on their lives. To share in a companionship that grew quickly and terrifyingly as easy as breathing. 

Boya is not adverse in either case. 

With the death of the Empress, Boya's life had changed exponentially. His presence in the palace or even Imperial City itself required less and less until he is eventually finding himself sent far and wide. It's not only him, he knows. His sect was created and maintained to protect the palace from the threat of demons and spirits alike, and just because the Evil Serpent housed within the deceased Empress is no more for a time, does not mean other threats do not exist. As the head of the sect and arguably its best warrior, Boya is no stranger to his skills being in constant demand- however his superiors willingness to grant so many requests is...new. 

Boya can't decide if they're trying to get rid of him, or are simply uncertain of what to do with him and his unexpected fame at being one of the main hands that dealt with the rise of the Evil Serpent and, by happenstance, the death of their nations ruler. Do they lord him as a hero, or an unwitting traitor quickly swept under the rug? 

Never mind that the Empress had seen to her own demise. Boya has, and never will, understand nor enjoy politics. He much prefers the simplicity of wandering village to village to city to countryside in search of his next quarry. Less politics, less complication. He has grown used to and learned to embrace the isolation, and emphatically ignores the pangs of loneliness he certainly does not feel when he is surrounded by people who do not know him or his mind. 

He most certainly does not look forward to the warming of the magic ear he had gifted Qing Ming, or the smooth, almost playful cadence of his voice when he is contacted at random for reasons innocuous or intent. And he most definitely does not drop everything he happens to be doing at the time to indulge the other guardians whims. That would be irresponsible of him, not to mention undignified. 

Except sometimes he does and he's not even sorry, what is wrong with him. 

It has only been a handful of short months since the last time he'd dropped everything to find his feet taking him to a quiet lakeside home near a far away mountain. Not long at all since he'd indulged in the tranquillity and ease of the only presence he'd found that did not raise his hackles or feel like the weight of chains on his shoulders. Boya is self aware enough to know that he is not a people person. He has the skills, as all those born amongst the elite do- but he has long since grown too abrasive, too direct from long years spent honing his body instead of his tongue to be comfortable rubbing shoulders with self important nobles or braggart so called intellectuals masquerading as scholars. 

Once, when he was younger and blinder to the truth of the world he dwelt in, he might have been more suited to opulent surroundings and the couth if hollow companionship of the equally sheltered and stupid. But then his mother had been torn from him, and he'd become more austere, rough, jaded. Not consumed, but definitely intent on ideas of revenge and self righteous anger at the being responsible for the death of his innocence. As he'd grown in body, skill and mind however, Boya had honed those qualities into a fine weapon that he aimed mercilessly at not just the one, but the whole of demonkind. 

Boya has hated demons for so long, that when faced with the man who was for all intents and purposes his opposite, he had found the control he sweat and bled for crumbling to dust between his fingers, and he had lashed out. 

He still doesn't know, to this day, what stayed his blade throughout the infancy of that acquaintanceship. Whether it was the presence of his fellows or the weight of the task they all shouldered- until eventually time and exposure had ever so slowly smoothed reflexive hackles, if only enough for him to notice the quiet, sombre air of understanding that permeated often short and prickly interactions. 

Only for those hackles to stand straight back up with every instance of sympathy or outright regard for the beings that exist purely as cruel thorns in Boya's soul. At every sign that this man prefers the company of beasts, kin of half of his blood.

Boya hates demons as surely as the sky is blue and his heart beats within his chest, but against all conceivable reason, Boya can't hate Qing Ming. 

When he tries, Boya just finds that he hates himself. 

Against all logic, it was only the passing of days that tempered him to the man's presence. Barely moments in time that gently uncoiled the tight grip of his ire until he found himself beset with an inexplicable sense of kinship that brought nothing but confusion in its wake and made every attempt at rebuke reflexive and half hearted at best. Until they stopped all together and Boya instead found himself drawn in ways he'd never before experienced. Until for the first time in his life, he'd turned the weapon crafted from the bleeding edges of his stone heart to protect an existence he'd spent longer hating than living. 

At first, he told himself he did it out of duty. There were a great many lives threatened in the City, in the world, and he would fulfil the purpose he'd curved into himself gladly and with a small, quiet relief. But that had only been part of the reason, and it had taken some long months of separation and reflection before he'd realised it. Then some further time spent agonising over the ambivalent nature of the realisation, and a few shameful nights spent trying to drown it. Boya is not known for seeking life's answers at the bottom of a bottle, but if there is one existence that can drive him to it, it is probably Qing Ming's. 

He can't decide if his eventual acceptance of the matter was brought about by lowered inhibitions or the regretful insight one experiences only during the first moments one opens their eyes to a truly magnificent hangover. Mayhaps he simply grew tired of waking up face down on or sprawled half under a drinking table in some out of the way inn room he’d stomped into at some ungodly hour. 

Honestly Boya thinks he probably shouldn’t drink at all. His constitution for it in excess seems to leave much to be desired. He can’t be good at everything, he supposes. A realization he is endlessly glad to have come upon alone. Gods forbid he be prone to acts not of his character whilst sober, (if he had had company Boya is of the mind that he might have bemoaned the sorry state of his life in a most undignified manner and he swears never to drink again. It’s only a short while later that he makes a liar of himself and wakes with the indentation of bamboo and regret pressed into his brow.)

The occasional presence of his dizi on the table leads him to think he might be either a whimsical or maudlin drunk. All the more reason to avoid it, (he hasn’t received any complaints yet, so at least he does it well quietly, aish.) 

He is not pining. He isn’t. 

And if he’d come to an abrupt halt in the middle of a busy street to many startled or annoyed protests the first time the magic ear he’d given to Qing Ming had warmed, no one needed to know, because Boya will take it to his grave. 

It’s a process of years, but it is, regardless, a process. One Boya hadn’t much fought against after those first few nights spent agonising over it with the taste of wine sharp on his tongue. The fact that it came about even without the confusing presence of Qing Ming there to turn his life upside down resigns Boya to the belief that he is indeed quite pathetic, all told. 

Still, he always answers, and still, he always eagerly goes where bid. 

Boya wishes he could hate it. 

Never more especially than the first time he meets a demon picking wildflowers of all things on an overgrown road obviously less travelled, (a small, unwashed slip of a thing in the guise of a child, with eyes too big when they’d met his and small, girlish hands clenching in fright around green stems) and lets it go. 

He’d grasped the hilt of the blade carried at his back, fully intending to draw it when, inexplicably, he’d been taken in by the fear in its- her eyes and felt not like a righteous man, but a demon himself.

What is wrong with him.  

He tells no one, and drinks himself into a stupor the next night. He ignores the wildflowers he finds outside his door the next morning. 

It’s all Qing Ming’s fault. Him with his ridiculous exquisite robes and that stupid fan he hides those mischivous attractive smiles behind. Gods, he’s pathetic. 

“Is this where your friend is waiting, Mr. Boya?” Small hands grasp and tug on the sleeve of his travel cloak, and Boya resigns himself, once again, to the lack of urge to shake them off. 

“Mn.” He grunts in reply, and the little girl trailing at his side like some misshapen duckling beams, wildflowers in her hair. 

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks as he weaves a path through the small village towards the tea house he’d been informed to meet at, freshly washed and happily bouncing demon child following at his heels. He has gone from mercilessly slaying demons to throwing the cute ones at someone always too happy to take them. 

Divine Lord take him, he is so pathetic.  

[deviant3lover]

The Trio, but what if they were young Gods?

Honestly, these are my own personal headcanons ever since I watched a bit of Okami’s boss battles, but I definitely welcome other ideas on what sorta gods y’all would see them like.

I was primarily inspired by in game artworks such as these:

And I wondered, 

“Hmm. How would people see the trio if they were feared/revered Gods? What kind of deities would they be?”

DISCLAIMER: 

In this list, all three of them had died as mortals.

Genos is a vengeful fire god, whose flames have burned and purified great evils that had come to torment the populace, and just as often, have found themselves extinguished at the hands of a greater threat. Everyday it gets harder to do so, with the deity’s power exploding in growth and size due to his diligence.

His mortal body isn’t one of flesh or blood. Not anymore. Instead, his avatar is created from a mass of metal and burning coal as his fuel, furnaces smoldering inside his body. Magic engravings are carved into the metal, acting as his blood and bones, twining the inorganic materials together just as they would for veins and nerves in a human.

A lone old man is one of his most dutiful attendants, and is his first follower. When the young god departs the mortal world to return to the celestial plane, he repairs his broken avatar, or creates a new one with different metals and engravings to house more of the young God’s power in his fights against the demons that plague the world. Too often has his own flames, or sheer recklessness, had been the cause of his own defeats in battles.

Kuseno should know. He’s seen it far too many times when he was still a mere boy. These same markings and metals were the ones that were tattooed on and built into his burnt and distorted skin; they had saved his life and blessed him with magic. 

But they weren’t enough to protect him from death when the boy had found himself getting swarmed by demons. 

All that was left of him was patches of blond hair, blood splattered all over the scorched open field where he fought, and bits of tattooed skin found beside deformed and clawed metal that had long grown cold when he found him at daybreak.

For his follower, the one that had acted as a father figure to him when he was still mortal, Genos makes sure that he will always come home to a place filled with warmth and good food, no matter the season, taking care to protect his crops from overheat or fires. He’s not known for his blessings, but for the people that he loves, he won’t hesitate to cultivate their quality for their loyalty.

He isn’t a cruel god, but he isn’t a forgiving one either. For those whom have wronged him, he makes their crops die, their residences swelter, their precious metals too hot to touch, much less trade: even with the best rubber gloves.

This is his mercy in the face of their blasphemy. If they refuse to seek forgiveness from one of his shrines or messengers, Genos will burn down the protections they use on their most valuable items and gifts, cursing them to never again be used by their hands, nor by the hands of anyone they conscript or affiliate with. His fire is too damning to be stopped by insulators of the finest quality, too persistent to be stopped by barriers of any kind.

Never again will their treasures be theirs to hold, and even Genos’ messengers cannot be entreated to remove it themselves: they must call upon his name and presence if they wished to dispel it.

The cursed ones who insist on using them will find their fingers burned, the items eventually melting and burning down into nothing.

For this, he’s often a god of good fortune for the unfortunate and desperate, for the displaced victims whose homes have been destroyed. Many people praise him for his blessings, and just as many curse and fear him for the damage he can cause to their lives. 

Farmers who’ve kept a good record in respecting him will see that their crops never overheat or burn, and wouldn’t drown from merciless rains. When winter comes, they will not freeze, and neither will them and their families. 

Merchants and rich lords are careful not to offend him, while the poor and unremarkable make small, heartfelt blessings when he punishes acts of cruelty made by authority figures abusing their power.

For some reason, a wandering bald ronin finds himself in the favor of this God, so much so that his acquaintances balk at the sight of all the blessings heaped upon him. Others joke about how an unremarkable man such as himself had a divine being worshipping him.

He mostly remains oblivious to this, until winter rolls around. His stay at a shabby inn remains uneventful and freezing, until a blond stranger greets him at his door and asks to be let in, eyeing Saitama with an intensity that he’s unused to seeing. 

He attributes the sudden burning warmth in his face as body as embarrassment. He’s not used to this much attention being directed to him after all. Introverted as he was, he didn’t hear the other residents softly exclaiming at how warm their rooms became, nor did he notice them staring wide eyed at his new disciple, knowing exactly what his presence meant.

—

Garou is a fearless and awe-inspiring air god that takes great delight in being a spirited competitor and a trickster, pushing his mind and body to the limits of what he can do: both as a celestial and as a mortal. Man, beast, or demon, Garou had taken many forms to combat and play clever tricks on others, constantly experimenting and learning new ways to become a more formidable threat to his enemies, and an incredible ally to those who’ve won his genuine care. 

He’s more active during the night. Demons and monsters are plentiful under a starless sky, and the quieter nights has him travelling the lands in relative peace: unless he decides he’s bored and finds something, or someone, to play tricks on.

He inspires plenty of respect, awe, and even humor for his exploits. His sense of justice however, is notably somewhat distorted in the eyes of the public. Scholars have written about his achievements and debated at length at how he came to be, who he truly is, for how easy it is to misinterpret or misunderstand his character when writing plays featuring the deity. He’s an attractive and rightfully arrogant man, so it becomes all too easy to paint him in a better or worse light depending on the writer. 

Illusions, tricks, impressive physical, magical, and mental prowess, as well as being notoriously devoted to himself, his beliefs, and the select few he deems to be good, it’s not guaranteed that he’ll work with, or against you. He’s a force of chaos with his own code, for better or for worse.

His former master, an older and wiser god, had taught him how to fight from what he had learned from the flow of water- from the steady stream of a river to the thunderous force of ocean waves crashing against a jagged cliff face. Garou had repaid the lessons with sewing discord in the mortal world with his misguided ambitions, using his lessons to learn how to harness the wind to do his bidding, away from Silverfang’s techniques.

Lessons from other age old masters and their followers has him learning every style of every kind, magical and martial art alike, never paying attention to the philosophies surrounding each one out of disinterest.

His insolence had casted him out from the rank and file of the celestials, and he wanders the mortal plane as a demigod in search of a challenge and purpose after Saitama stops his naïve onslaught against the world.

In another life, maybe he would’ve had a more merciful upbringing as a child. But his mortal life was cut short: how? He can’t remember. 

Maybe it was his tormenters at school.

Was he cursed? Were they just cruel?

Maybe it was a stormy night on a treacherous mountain when he tried to journey to a far off dojo for strength, away from what little he can remember from home.

Did he slip and fall to his death?

Maybe he had an unlucky encounter with a demon or two.

Or three. Or ten. Maybe they swarmed, razed, and devoured his village.

All he can remember was that his past life was filled with cruelty, where the world worked against him. When he awoke at the steps leading upwards to a dojo that gleamed an unearthly gold, the ground being amassed of clouds that didn’t touch his skin, and the skies jet black with stars shining like faraway lanterns, the boy-spirit didn’t hesitate on climbing the steps.

Storms and violent winds are heralds for the oncoming chaos he brings to the lands he wishes havoc on: the young god can be as theatric as he is destructive. He may have expressed the desire to become one with the demons, but his acts against humans are significantly less lethal than the ones he commits against demons, more mischief and punishment than cruelty.

A young boy had saved him when he took on the form of a wolf. Call it bad luck, or underestimating the threat, but Garou had been hunted to near death by man and monster alike. 

Tareo stumbled across his unconscious, bleeding wolf form and took him as close to his home as he dared, housing him in an abandoned den safe from the weather’s damage. From there, he travelled to and from his house as days went by, patching him up as best he can while talking about his life and what today had been like, somehow oblivious to the danger that comes with caring for a wild beast, who’s staring at the kid incredulously, knowing this very fact.

In time after the wolf had disappeared from the den, leaving him dispirited and lonely for some time, he becomes acquainted with a ‘Mister’ who frequents the town he lives in, who teaches him how to defend himself against his bullies.

And in the dark hours of the night, when he ventures too far into the more dangerous parts of the village when his ‘friends’ forced him to, an eerie howling can be heard over the wind. They flee not long after when they see and hear the illusions that Garou had conjured in the dark thickets of the forest.

Tareo learns to associate the cold winds with danger. He may be in awe of gods and folk heroes, but he finds himself wondering who he managed to win the favor of to justify divine intervention. Just how often do cold winds press so insistently against him when he goes to dangerous alleys and areas?

Maybe Mister will know. He’ll ask him about it sometime.

—

Badd is a formidable and intimidating thunder god, whose displays of power have kept enemies in fear of committing cruel acts, lest they find themselves lost in a violent thunderstorm, their meager attempts to return home making them look like lost pieces of cloth getting battered around by the wind as the sound of thunder grows louder in the distance.

A cruel mortal will find themselves nearly dying from a tree almost crushing them on a dark night, with only Badd’s occasional flashes of lightning acting as their sole warnings for their brush with death, searing the experiences into their minds, prompting them to avoid the more vile crimes out of fear. Demons will find themselves stricken right where they stand, instantly killed on the spot.

If his followers have strayed to the dark arts in his name, Badd will angrily strike his condemnations on a surface that can withstand his thunder. If they forget, he strikes down his commandments instead, the words white-hot and glowing from his divine power.

Despite his brash and fearsome demeanor, he is the kindest out of the three, the most paternal figure in the trio. Many families dedicate their offerings to him; in return, he makes sure that they are safe from danger, and that their children aren’t stolen away by demons in the night.

He takes a shine to earnest folk. Good, hardworking people will be safer when travelling into more dangerous situations. There are plenty of books written on the patterns of thunder and lightning he sends down, and what kind of omens they are to prepare accordingly. 

Most of it is psuedo-science. Badd may not be the most cunning god, but he knows that enemies can learn different patterns and work against him. 

Zenko had cried with a grief she had never known when he was killed trying to protect her and their home as a young Ronin. Growing up, the pain dulled, and she took up the mantle he had chosen to take, teaching her students on how to protect their village just as he did, travelling the land to spread Badd’s name.

She knows exactly who her brother is now, and acts as his messenger and regent for his followers. It’s been years and she’s grown up, while he’s a busy god defending the other side of the planet from dangerous threats, so their meetings are few and far in between. 

But every now and again, they cross paths and reunite; he always cries and she always comforts him, sighing with equal amounts of affection and exasperation at how sentimental he always gets. Every time they meet, he thanks her for all the offerings she’s made to him, all the devoted followers she’s inspired to carry out his name and commandments. Every time they meet, she hugs her brother as tight as she can and swears his heartbeat now sound as loud as the thunderstrikes he summons on his enemies, the static crackling on the clothes at his newfound power, but he’s still the same big brother that raised her as best he could when she was little.

Zenko misses Badd everyday when they have to go their separate ways, and know he’ll be left devastated when she lives and dies a mortal life, but they treasure what time they have when they manage to reunite.

All Three

Due to their ferocity and fearlessness, many, many warriors pray to them for power and success. They’re far more popular in young fighters seeking to make something out of themselves, just as old gods are more popular with veterans and experienced warriors. Revitalizing food are often offered to them, with the occasional sweet cakes dedicated to Badd. Trophies of their successes (such as a horn from a slain demon, some scales from a malevolent dragon) are offered to shrines for safekeeping after they’ve prayed to them successfully.

All three have soft spots for children and the victimized, and such, many family offerings and whatever could be spared from folks who have little to offer are often found at their shrines. 

They strike a sense of home for the ones who don’t truly fit in. Badd was not well mannered or refined, Garou was mischievous and disillusioned with the world, and Genos had everything he’d known and loved torn away from him when he was young. All three aren’t the best at socializing, are intimidating in their own rights, and are known to be aggressive at times.

For them, they don’t leave much, except for heartfelt prayers and confessions they’d never dare to tell others. The three fulfill it as best they can: in person if they have to, though they are careful to use a slightly different form each time. Who knows what could happen if people started recognizing you when you take on a mortal form?

[amandaklwrites]

Movie Review/Why This Movie Affected Me: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005)

Genre: Children, Family/Action, Adventure/Fantasy

Rating: 10/10

Movie Review/Why this movie affected me:

Oh, Narnia. A magical world that I had often dreamt of traveling to as a child. Even now into adulthood, I wish I could be whisked away through a magical wardrobe that left into a land that I could only imagine in my mind.

When this movie first came out in theaters, I was about the same age as Lucy (the actress and I are the same age anyway!), and I am so glad that I got to experience this movie when magic was still filling so much of my imagination. Not that it isn’t now, but it was more intense back then.

Just recently, I had watched this movie again. It is one that I can watch over and over, and never get tired of. It is one that has captured so much of my life that I don’t think I could ever shake it. It was one that stuck with me at age nine, and it’s still fully grasping my heart after so long.

I don’t think anyone will understand why this movie had been so apart of my soul. I don’t remember if anything specific convinced me to go see this movie or if my mom just took me, but I do remember how I felt afterward. I felt like I was empowered, like I had been brought to life. I was obsessed with this movie—and I mean OBSESSED. I talked about it so much in elementary school that other kids were constantly telling me to shut up. I wanted to learn archery because of this movie (my grandpa did teach me!), I had become enchanted with sword fights and armor from this movie, and I fell in love with every single character. I remember crying in the theater when the White Witch killed Aslan, and even more so when he came back to life (let’s be honest, I still cry now), and the absolute wonder of this world of Narnia. As I’ve grown up, I’ve come to realize how much I loved stories of kids traveling into other worlds as a kid. More so than magical things existing in our world (though, I did love Spiderwick Chronicles around this same time frame). I had wanted to fall down a rabbit hole or walk through a wardrobe so much that I had ached as a child.

Growing up, I remember always wanting to be Susan. I dreamt of being so beautiful and wonderful like her (and actually, I am a bit like her when I think about it—I am a bit too serious, I see some things in black and white, and I would probably be hesitant about going into battle), and she was like an idol to me in this movie. But the more I age, the more I realize, especially at the time of seeing this movie, I was more like Lucy. I was a little girl who had believed in what would be considered too many magical things, and I was a bit of a loner. I had dreamt of magic places and characters, and I would be off playing by myself whenever I got the chance. I was teased by other kids, I was made fun of, I was called a freak to my face and whispered about when I was nearby. So, when Lucy is telling the other kids about her experience in Narnia, and they don’t believe her, and Edmund makes fun of her, I know exactly how that feels. One hundred percent. So those moments always get to me. But also like Lucy, I still chose to believe what I believed in, and didn’t take crap from anyone. And I think, in the end, here so many years later, it was for the best. It was what made me who I am.

A few examples to show how much I love this movie, at that age and now—one of them is, when I was a kid and got this movie on DVD, I watched it over and over until I memorized every line, until I could quote the whole movie if I wanted to. And even to this day, when I probably don’t watch the movie for quite some time in between, I can STILL quote every line in the movie. I can say them along the characters, even when I’m not looking directly at the screen. It’s just one of those movies for me.

The other example was a few years ago. My family and I had gone to Seattle to visit, and we went into their big Pop Culture museum they have up there (I forgot what it’s called, I apologize), and I was touring through the Fantasy area, where they had props and costumes of so many fantasy movies. I had turned the corner, and just right there, I saw it instantly. It was Susan’s bow and arrows, and her horn. I remember whispering, “Narnia,” and I rushed over there and started crying. Then, just nearby, was the White Witch’s dress and staff. My mom had to come find me blubbering in the corner (I was luckily all by myself) and pull me away because I kept staring at them. I had felt like a kid again, so excited and amazed that I was looking right at these props of a movie that had changed my whole life.

If it isn’t easy to figure out, I love everything about this movie, even as an adult. It gives me the same feelings a child, though I can look at it from the adult perspective. Like I think it’s pretty incredible that all these children could go into a war and come out alive (though, yes, I do know that most of them are older than they are in the books—I did read all the books after I saw this movie!). It’s pretty amazing. But I do agree that they were strong characters in the first place, with a strong sense of right and wrong.

The cast, I think, are the most important part of this film. All four of the kids were absolutely perfect, and for their ages, fantastic actors in my opinion. William Moseley and Anna Popplewell slip so well into their characters that to me it felt so seamless. Skandar Keynes and Georgie Henley were younger, so their portrayals were a little rougher, but honestly, they were still so good, considering their ages. Everyone else was just as wonderful—Tilda Swinton as the evil White Witch was horrifying, James McAvoy as Mr. Tumnus is just so sweet (and I somehow got Tumnus in a personality test?!!?), and the ultimate Liam Neeson as Aslan was the best casting.

Let’s talk about Aslan for a moment. I do know very well about the connections of these stories with Christian allegories that may or may not have been purposeful by C. S. Lewis (though, we can also discuss how Lewis was raised Christian, then became an atheist, then Pagan, then Christian again at the convincing of his friends��I’m looking at you Tolkien—so I think a lot of his work is influenced by it all), but can I just say: if Aslan is God, I’m one hundred percent okay with that. I think Aslan as a view of God is exactly what Christians should believe in for their God. I myself am not religious at all, but I know a lot of Christians and I have read the large chunks of Bible for Literature Studies, so I think I get the grasp of some of their beliefs. And most of the Christians I know, or people (like my family) that had been raised in churches and religion, believe in a God that is kind and watchful and just lets people live their lives (yes, I know, not everyone believes in this version of God, I’m just speaking on experience from talking to people that I know that believe in God). And I think Aslan reflects that well. He is “not a tame lion” as Mr. Tumnus puts it, which I think reflects on the idea that Aslan/God could be cruel and destructive if he wants (think about what he did the White Witch), but mostly, he is kind and gentle and all knowing. Aslan isn’t always there, and he doesn’t step into every single thing in the world of Narnia, he steps away and leaves the Narnians to experience the world themselves. And I see the connection between the idea that the Narnians are hopeless and left behind when Jadis the White Witch rules over Narnia and Aslan hadn’t come to save them. But, according to the prophecy of the four children, he wasn’t meant to save them all himself. He still keeps to the sidelines to let the Pevensie children save the world themselves, and he steps in toward the end. (And yes, with the same allegory, he returns and the Narnians faith does as well). But I have always loved Aslan, as a child and even as an adult that has an entirely different set up beliefs than most people I know. I love the allegory of him as a type of God. Because if there had to be a God, I would want it to be Aslan the Lion. I would believe in him completely. Though, I did notice the line that he said to Peter, where there was something even higher than him that controlled their destines and that makes me wonder—if that is a direct quote from Lewis (I’ll have to research that), or just a line from the movie, what does that mean?? Are they talking about the powers of the universe? Are they saying that Aslan isn’t the only higher power in this world? Which to me, makes him even more complicated and interesting, to have him mention something like that. And my god, he sacrificed himself for Edmund, do we realize that? I hated that scene in theaters and I still hate it now, watching the humiliation he’s put through, the absolute fear in his eyes, even if he knew what would happen. It makes him feel less like God, and almost human. Because though he knows he’ll come back—he’s scared. He doesn’t want to die at all, he doesn’t want to experience that. And to me, that was when I had loved him even more. Because he has feelings, he responds to fear and danger, but he still has the belief that everything will be okay. I could easily write a whole essay about Aslan, but I’ll leave it at that for now. I just love Aslan so much.

Everything about this movie feeds me joy into my soul. The story itself, the magic, the love of the siblings, the battles, the comfort of knowing that something like Aslan can protect a whole world. The movie had created a whole world for all of us to see, and I thought it was beautiful then and I think it’s still just as magnificent now. It’s a movie that taught me something as a child and as an adult and keeps hope and belief and magic in my heart. Can’t you tell at this point? I could gush and talk about this movie for hours, maybe even days, so I can’t go into every single detail—but maybe I’ll mention some things I’ll reference on my blog in the future.

But I can say, this film opened my whole world. I can remember that whole time frame after I saw it, how much I loved it, how it made me feel so strong and magical myself. I even have a jewelry box that is an exact replica (though small) of the wardrobe, and some other cool prop stuff. I cried when I watched the Disney+ episode of props from their movies and it was William, Anna and Georgie seeing their costumes and props (I’m not kidding, I sobbed like a child). I still look into wardrobes just in case whenever I stay somewhere. It showed me that though I was considered a freak at my school, I didn’t care. I still believed in myself and the magic. I think this movie (along with Alice in Wonderland, to be honest, since I loved that one before this, so it was influential there too), is the reason I don’t care what people think of me, for the most part. I just do my own thing, I can be alone, I believe my own stuff. Of course, things get to me and everyone cares about what people think of them, but for the most part, I’m comfortable with who I am and I always will be myself. And I can thank this movie for that.

Whenever I watch this movie, I feel like I’m home.

[theflikchic]

”A Tale of Magic...” is heartbreakingly contradictory. A ’short‘ essay by me.

Some background. I had to stop reading ”A Tale of Magic...”. Now, keep in mind, I think Chris Colfer is doing a great job as an author and I wish him nothing but the best. I love the “Land of Stories” series because of its characters and world, and everytime I read it, I get inspired to keep writing MY stories.

But... I couldn’t get through this one. I was so disturbed by how severely dark it is. The fact that the Christians are trying to kill children was so hard to read, especially since I myself am a Christian. NOW, I have NO problem exposing the church for its wrongdoings. I actually encourage it. I love when people call out witch trials and such. But in the case of the story, and the writing, not only is it disturbed, but it’s contradictory to the entire message of the original series.

Aside being a wonderful take on grief, the ”Land of Stories“ series has the message that anyone can be anything. That you should never discriminate against people of a group who may have harmed you. That’s why we have Hagetta. She represents that idea of “people are people”. And with “A Tale of Magic...”, that all went right out the window.

In the book, Colfer reveals that magic ”is not a choice”. He says this so much. It feels like...like it’s waving its arms at you to show you that it’s a gay metaphor. I think making magic as a metaphor for being gay is totally fine! Make your stories fit your experiences! But the PROBLEM is that there’s no subtlety at all about the social justice areas of the book and it makes for a jarring read. This is where the issue comes in.

It is established early on in the book that magic is good and witchcraft is bad. But since it’s a prequel, we know that there are good witches and bad fairies. So why are there ONLY bad Christians? If anyone can be anything, how come witches- who are literally born with evil powers- can be good but all those who believe in God are cruel monsters? Whether you think Christians suck or not is irrelevant, as this is contradictory to the writing ITSELF.

I skipped to the end to see how Brystal (the main character) would handle facing her overly religious father who ostracized her for being magical. She had been taught by her teacher that you need to love and forgive those who have wronged you. And yet, she casts away her father and scorns him. She does exactly what he did to her, despite the fact that she’s been constantly taught otherwise. And it’s seen as a triumphant moment. This unintentionally says- “Love and forgive everyone. Except for the people who believe in God.“ If Brystal was the bigger person and forgave him like she was taught, that would be an even a bigger triumph. It would show that she’s really grown. But that’s not what happens.

The other main problem with this is that there is little to NO thought given about the actual religion. They just call him “God”. And because they oppose the fairies, who are metaphors for being gay, it’s basically said that they’re Christians. But that doesn’t work. It doesn’t work because the Land of Stories is established to be a land that has no idea ours exists. Their time moves slower than ours. If they’re moving slower, that means either a) they have this religion before Jesus showed up or b) they missed Jesus on Earth altogether. So it can’t be Christianity, because WE made that belief system HERE. What’s IN the Book Of Faith? What did it originally say? There’s no info given at all.

The book sadly shows that Colfer is going through a rough time in Trump-America. But it unintentionally contradicts its message. As a Christian, it’s hard to see the only people like you hurting your favourite characters. I wish him all the best. I hope stuff gets better but I don’t think I’ll read the rest of the prequel series. I will always love the original series but sadly, I felt excluded from the new story. When the next one comes out, I would greatly appreciate it if someone would tell me if any of my questions are answered.

I hope you’re doing okay, Chris. Despite all this, keep being YOU. Keep writing. You really do inspire me.

[ourlastbastion]

Embers Ch. 1

Takes place 10 years in the future. Sequel to Wild Fire; though readers don’t need to read the prior fic to read this one.

After the defeat of the Acolytes and their leader, Kai Palakiko, in the frozen desert of Antarctica, life had been busy for virtually everyone. The DWMA was occupied with trying to repair the damages that the Acolytes had caused, to rebuild the lives that had been ruined, to help process those that survived and were being locked up. But, mostly, it was spent dealing with the aftermath of a slaughter, and comforting mourning parents.

 A lot of people had died during the fight, a lot of people on both sides. Even if it had been a victory for the DWMA, the cost had been steep. The deaths had not just been at the battle of Antarctica, however, rather, there had been bloodshed all over the globe.

During the first year after the victory, things had only gotten worse; members who had not been present for the battle retaliated against the DWMA and against Death. They killed their neighbors in the name of the Acolytes, set off bombs in public places, slaughtered people left and right to avenge their so-called ‘God’. It took so much time, but through suicide attacks and the DWMA hunting these lingering members down, the violence died down too. Still, there was so much left to heal, both personally and globally.

The battle had been horrible, bloody, cruel. Human against human, most of pure souls swayed by differing opinions, brainwashed through generations of cultic beliefs. 

It took time before meisters and weapons were able to relax again, able to fall into their old routines. No longer was there a massive cult, an army of humans, sorcerers and witches alike waiting to topple the order of the world.

Everyone needed a distraction, something to let them forget, even if it was just for a single night, the horrors that they had seen and done. And so, the annual Winter Festival was born: a night to celebrate the victory against the Acolytes, and to honor the heroes who fought to the last breath to put an end to them. Every year for the past decade saw parties, festivals and celebrations lit up the sky all over the world on that night. 

No place, however, was more festive than Death City, the seat of Lord Death’s power, home to many veterans from the Battle of Antarctica, and the target and source of Kai’s wrath. The city always goes all out for the Winter Festival, so much so that the roads were shut down all day so that preparations could commence, though the celebrations don’t start until the sun sets. Lanterns in the shape of Death's face illuminate streets, flowers hang from signposts and windows, symbolic black and white ribbons and banners flowing about. Pictures of those who died in the fight were set up at a shrine that was set up, and people would leave gifts to their dead friends and family to honor their sacrifices. 

Vendors set up booths and tents all over the main road, performers would be out and about, music and plays alike. Children would dash from booth to booth, spending their parents’ money on games and food, while their parents would fight a futile battle to keep their kids in sight or at their side. Students and teachers crowded around stages, or showed off their tricks to enthralled children. People buzzed with life and joy as the moon hung above them, watching in delight. It was the night where everyone would have a good time. 

Well, most of everyone. 

Maka didn’t hate the festival. She had been there in the fight, she knew how terrible it had gotten, she knew what happened. The festival was something that people needed. But, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it, not really. It was a painful reminder of a terrible battle. 

It was the ten-year anniversary of the defeat of the Acolytes and of the witch Kai, but it was so much more than that. For Maka, it reminded her of the day that Maleko died, and a part of her couldn’t help but bitterly feel that they were celebrating his death, too. The festival was a reminder of a little boy who would rather die with his mother than live without her. 

How could Maka bring herself to fully celebrate with that in the back of her mind?

Maleko had been a friend. He’d been family, during his time at the school she’d come to see him as a baby brother. He’d helped open her eyes, to see that the world wasn’t quite so black and white, that someone’s circumstances of birth didn’t dictate if they were good or evil, that being born wasn’t reason enough to die.

He had been a sorcerer, the enemy of the school, but she could never see him as an enemy. He was kind, he was sweet. All he wanted was to reunite with the woman he considered his mother, all he wanted was to be with his family. He didn’t care about the war, he didn’t care about who was good or who was bad, he just wanted to go home. But he couldn’t, nothing would be the same ever again, even if they’d won the war and beat the DWMA during that fight, he had already lost. 

Kai was dying, poisoned by her own companion. Maleko would never have the life he wanted, not when he’d already lost the one person who mattered.

After Maleko had saved her and Soul, she had lost track of him, unable to find his soul in the chaos around them. But she had seen him fall, wrapped up in Kai’s arm, as the final tower she erected crumbled, saw them both fall and be swallowed up by the freezing sea. 

She had held out hope, her, Soul, and others who had befriended the boy, they had held onto a sliver of hope that he had survived. But, when the official death tally was counted, when Stein, Sid, and Marie had fished the bodies out of the sea, she couldn’t pretend. Maka had to accept the reality; Maleko was dead. 

At first, Maka wanted to hate him. Hate him for choosing to die when he still had so much life to live, decades, centuries even left to live. She screamed, angry that she had lost a friend, heartbroken that she hadn’t been able do anything, something that could have prevented all of this. Soul and Crona had been there for her during that rough few months. Had consoled her while she consoled them. After the grief subsided, she was able to find reason once more.

Maleko, even if he had survived, would never have returned to the DWMA willingly. At the end of it all, he had come to hate them. The school was the reason Kai died, they hunted her down. He’d only have been driven into the arms of the other witches. With his magic, the anger he felt towards them, there was no doubt he would have grown to become one of their greatest enemies, one who only wanted revenge. And, a part of Maka knew that she wouldn’t have been able to blame him.

It had been hard for her to return to the DWMA after that fight. She had been seriously hurt during the fight, and even after she and Soul both recovered, it had been hard to go back to how things had been after the bloodshed and slaughter she had witnessed, had been a part of.

There was little doubt that Maka had her ideals and beliefs, that she believed in the mission of the DWMA, it’s strive to protect the greater good, to be defenders of the people, to fight the monsters that normal men and women couldn’t. She would always believe in that, would always agree with that. But, because of the Acolytes, because of Kai Palakiko, words she had said, truths  she had brought to light...well… it was harder for Maka to be as dedicated as she had been. She realized that there was a lot that the school did that was morally ambiguous, that there were decisions the leaders, that Death, made that felt wrong.

Children could be seen as enemies deserving death if they weren’t human. Humans with pure souls could be executed if what they believed in went against the order Lord Death tried to maintain, even if they didn’t think they were in the wrong. The Acolytes had thought Death a false God, thought him to be a wolf among sheep, monster because he was Death, because he recruited children and teens to fight the wars of adults. 

Maka could understand where they were coming from, she could see their reasoning for why they would hate him so much. But, they worshipped a witch, they worshipped Kai, who had killed more than any could count, believed her to be a true God and waged war on Death and the DWMA.

And so, they were killed.

They hadn’t been good people, many of them had become killers, fanatical killers. But, they were human, not Kishin Eggs.

It was hard knowing what the right thing was. When things were black and white, it was easy to know what to do, but she had learned the world wasn’t quite that way. There wasn’t a true ‘right’ choice.

Many of the people they fought may never have had a choice, or maybe their were doing what they had been told their whole lives they had to do, and she was killing them without giving them a chance to see that they don’t have to be bad. 

Crona, oh Crona, they were a perfect example of it. They had been raised by Medusa, someone Maka would forever consider the worst of the witches, they had been conditioned to be a killer, to be a monster. Crona and Ragnarok had been well on the path of becoming a true Kishin, living a life of bloodshed and madness because they hadn’t known anything else, because they hadn’t been allowed to. But, once given the chance to be something better, Crona blossomed and became something amazing. 

Why couldn’t they give others the same chance? Why was it to kill first, question second? 

It wasn’t like she could just stop, though. She and Soul were a team, and she was to make Soul a better Death Scythe than her father had ever been. But, it was harder for her to look at the missions and job requests and not question them. Did these people have reasons behind their actions?  Were they hurting others because they were protecting someone else? Were they the victims and they just finally lashed back after years of abuse and pain? Had there been a force outside their control that drove them to such drastic means that their souls became tainted? 

Could it be resolved without taking their soul? 

It made her reluctant, hesitant where she would have been decisive. Soul had noticed. Crona had noticed. All her friends had noticed. None mentioned it, perhaps understanding her moral struggle. Even so, Maka did her best to push on with a smile, to continue working hard.

After a few years, they graduated. They went their separate ways, followed their own paths.

BlackStar and Tsubaki were in Japan, training at Tsubaki’s family home, while also helping Death Scythe Azusa in keeping local witch covens and yakuza clans from getting out of hand. From the letters Tsubaki regularly wrote to her, it seemed that they were doing well, that BlackStar was enjoying himself, and that he was right at home there.

Kid came back now and then, but he, Liz, and Patty were usually on the move, going after one witch or another, communicating mostly through call. His father couldn’t leave the city, so Kid did the work for him. Liz had even gotten a job as a journalist for a fashion magazine that she worked on while they travelled. Maka always kept an eye out for any of her articles. 

The only ones who stayed in the city were Soul, Crona, and Ragnarok. The Demon Sword often complained that if he was able to, he would have left them a long time ago; Maka doubted that was true, he loved his meister, he wouldn’t abandon Crona. Her relationship with both Soul and Crona had deepened over the years, it had felt completely natural for them to grow so close.

Spirit had suggested she apply to be a teacher at the academy. Maka had considered it, she was suited to be a teacher, she knew all the material, she felt that she was good at mentoring others. The idea of teaching the newest generations of meisters and weapons was tempting, it really was. But, Maka didn’t want to be anchored to Death City. She wanted to be out in the world, doing good, taking missions and helping people, protecting people. She still had to make Soul into a Death Scythe. 

Staying in Death City would mean that her opportunity to do so would be limited. So, she refused and continued to take jobs with Soul. Maka was careful about the jobs she took, no longer blindly accepting that everyone on the lists were irredeemably evil. In a way, it had made her all the better of a meister. 

Some missions, though, even Maka had trouble trying to see the others view, had trouble thinking of ways they might not be as bad as the missions made them out to be.

“And, so you see, this makes the seventh child in the past month to go missing in the area,” Death said, bouncing in his spot as he stood before Maka and Soul. There was a map showing on his mirror, a large area of England circled in red. “A further study showed that there have been almost fifty reported abductions in the area in the past two years where the child has yet to be found, even more likely to have been unreported.” 

No matter how much Maka may try, she couldn’t fathom what reasoning a person might have to justify child abduction. 

“And you want us to go and investigate, correct?” Maka asked, standing straight and stiff as she faced Lord Death, ignoring her papa who stood at his own side.

Death gave a slight bow. “Yes, that’s is correct, The police have done all that they can, but haven’t made much progress. It will just be the two of you, however, I don’t want to send a large group in fear that the kidnappers may notice. If they know more people are snooping around, they’ll get cautious. At worst, they might even flee before we catch their trail.”

“Going around and stealing kids, how uncool can you be?” Soul shook his head, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. His expression was his usually relaxed, lazy one, but Maka could see the underlying disgust in his eyes, that unspoken hate towards these kidnappers. “Not a single one’s come home yet?”

“Unfortunately, none have been found,” Spirit spoke up, holding a stack of papers in his hands and glancing through them. “The police can give you more information when you get there, and since we expect you to be down there for a while, we’ll arrange for a place to stay in the meantime, as well as some financial assistance so that you won’t be lacking necessities.”

“Considering that it is the Winter Festival tonight, we can assume there is a high chance another child may go missing during it,” Death added. “Which makes it even more important that we find who has been stealing these children, and more so, to find the children and bring them home.”

Maka frowned, he was right. Everyone would be out during the festival, not just in Death City, but all over. It’d be easy for someone to snatch a child when they were constantly running from their parents side during the night. They could disguise themselves as a vendor or performer, lure the child away. “There’s no way we’ll make it there in time for the festival,” Maka warned. They’d be there by morning at the earliest. It was a ten hour flight, and they were only human. 

“I’m aware,” Death agreed, “I would have arranged for this sooner, but until now, the police have insisted on handling this on their own; our aid has only just been requested.”

This was the kind of mission that Maka could do, that she could do and not feel doubts, not second guess the guilt of her enemy. There was no way to second guess or to doubt, there was no way that those responsible weren’t a terrible person. She knew this was a mission she would be focused and steadfast on, and there was little doubt that her papa and Lord Death knew. She’d do what she had to in order to find these kids. If they were still alive, her mind added. There was no guarantee that they were still okay. 

She just had to hope that they were.

“When we head out there, where do you suggest we head to first?” Soul asked.

Clapping his hands together, the reaper gave them a nod. “Yes, yes. Once you arrive, you’ll be meeting with Detective Caine from the local police department. He’ll debrief you on everything that’s going on,” he explained. “He’s the lead detective on the case who you’ll be working with.”

Spirit took a step forward, “He’s apparently pretty charming, but Maka, you can’t fall for anything he might say,” he was quick to say. “If he tries anything on you, too, just give me a call and I’ll take the first plane down there!” 

It took all her willpower not to roll her eyes. Maka was a grown woman now, and her father was still acting like this. She could take care of herself. “We haven’t even met him,” she chided her father instead. “I’m not going to fall for some guy I just met, what year do you think this even is?”

Even if she was the sort of person to believe in love at first sight, what could this detective potentially have to offer that could trump the ones she already had in her life? But, that was beside the point. “Is there anything else we need to know?” she asked the two instead.

“This has been under investigation for a few years already, so there is quite a case file already formed. That being said, I’m sure the police will be more than happy to assist you and Soul in whatever you need,” Death said, his voice was far too cheery considering they were talking about a case revolving children being stolen away. “We’ve already covered your expenses for the plane, all that needs to be done is for you two to pack what you need and head out.”

“Make sure you call me once you land, too! Call me every day!” Spirit added, which Maka promptly ignored.

Instead, she gave Lord Death a bow, “Understood. We’ll head out as soon as we can.”

“We’ll catch these kidnappers in no time,” Soul added with a crooked smirk and a nod towards Spirit and Death. “Those kids will be back home before you know it.”

____

At the completion of the mission debriefing, the two had gone straight to their shared apartment to prepare for the coming trip. They still shared their home with Blair, and for the duration of any mission away from home, this one included, she was the one who would tend to their home in their absence. As such, Maka needed to make sure that Blair would have enough money to cover groceries and emergency expenses. Some of these expenses would probably end up being fish or wine, but so long as the cat caused no trouble while they were gone, she would be fine with it.

The two were going to be joining an investigation that had been in the works for a few years by now, so it was hard to gauge just how long to pack for when Maka didn’t know just how long they would be gone for. In the end, she decided that a weeks’ worth of clothes and other necessities should suffice. If they were there for longer, which she imagined they likely would be, then they could use local laundromats to clean their clothes and buy what else they needed while there. So, by the end of it all, she and Soul both had about two bags packed and ready to go.

There wasn’t much that Maka could say happened within the next handful of hours after that. She and Soul had gone to the airport and took a plane to England, to the small city where the heart of the investigation was taking place. There hadn’t been anything of note that had happened during that time.

The plane ride had been smooth, save for a few bouts of turbulence and a small bit of drama between some screaming children. Maka had taken the time to start reading a new book while Soul napped.

When the plane landed, it was getting late.

Carrying her bags as she left the doors, Maka looked at the throngs of people coming in and out of the airport, Soul right behind her. “Well, here we are,” she said. The sun was setting, the moon rising, people didn’t’ seem to be too anxious. “Where do you suppose we should go? Find a hotel or go straight to the police?”

Soul yawned, somehow still sleepy despite the nap he took on the plane. “We should probably check in with the station, let them know that we arrived,” he licked his lips and moved aside for a mother and her son to get by. “That way they know to contact us if something happens.”

“Right,” Maka nodded and started walking. They’d need to find a map, or maybe they could ask someone to point them the way to it. “Let’s give Crona a call when we settle in to a hotel later, too. I wanna know how their mission is going.” And it had been a while since she got to hear their voice; they’d been sent on a mission by Lord Death two weeks ago, and since then they only got to talk over the phone a small number of times.

Laughing, Soul followed beside her. “I’m sure Ragnarok has been making it miserable,” he joked and shook his head. “But, yeah, I’d like that. Be nice to check up on them, make sure they’re doing okay.”

They could talk, maybe not for too long—it was late, and even if Brazil was roughly three or so hours behind them, Maka didn’t want to keep Crona up for too long, especially not with how dangerous a mission Crona and Ragnarok were on. Maybe just a short call, a hello, make sure they were okay, that’d be fine.

Before Maka could go another step, a hand landed on her shoulder, bringing her to stop and firmly tugging her backward.

Instinctively, Maka reeled away, wrenching herself free from whoever had  grabbed her and reaching for Soul, readying to face some thug who thought he was trying to be tough and probably preparing to mug them.

However, it wasn’t some street thug who had stopped them, not even a witch or Kishin Egg. When Maka turned around, what she saw—who she saw was a young man, a good few years older than her and Soul, dressed in a white button up and slacks, holding the suit’s jacket over his shoulder. The stranger had a handsome enough face, Maka supposed, and had a head of long hair that was a shade more orange than red, tied back in a messy ponytail. He looked like he could be some hired thug, but at the same time there was something about him that made her feel that he wasn’t one.

His eyes were gold in color, yet were much like Soul’s in shape. Even as he stared at the two, with one hand hanging onto the jacket he draped over his shoulder, the other—the one that had grabbed Maka—pulling back to hang at his side, he watched them with a look of disinterest. Maka’s eyes went lower on his body, taking in the sight of the likely loaded gun strapped to his hip.

Giving them both a once over, he tilted his head to the side, looking unimpressed with what he saw of the two. “Maka Albarn? Soul Evans?” the stranger asked.

Soul took a step forward, staring up at this man with a frown. “Yeah. And you are?” he asked carefully. Like Maka, he was a bit suspicious of being stopped and called out by a complete stranger, and it was clear by the look on his face that he didn’t appreciate Maka being grabbed and yanked back the way that she had been.

Maka frowned, tearing her gaze from the gun to look up at the mans face. He was taller than both of them, and in a way he looked like he easily intimidated others—but not Maka, and not Soul. They’d faced people scarier than him, tougher than him. He was going to have to try a lot harder to make either of them nervous.

As if to answer Soul’s question, a police badge was held up. “Elijah Caine,” the stranger introduced, holding the badge out for the two of them to see. “You two will be coming with me.”

It wasn’t a request.

He had already turned around and was walking away, his badge back to where it had been hung on his belt. He didn’t wait to make sure that Soul and Maka agreed, didn’t stop to make sure they were, indeed, following him. Elijah Caine just started walking away expecting the two to do just as he told them to do.

Soul frowned, “That’s Detective Caine?” Soul muttered to Maka, picking his bags up and following behind the man, making sure to keep enough of a distance from him that their whispers wouldn’t be heard.

Following suit, Maka shook her head. She had only heard of the man during their debriefing, and neither Lord Death or her father had painted that much of a picture of what kind of person he would be. Even so… “I expected him to be a bit…”

“Less of a dick?” Soul finished for her.

“Yeah,” Maka chuckled.

Elijah didn’t even turn to look at them. “How about you two quit your jawing and pick up the pace?” he asked them. “Or did you forget you’re here for a job and not a vacation?”

He was unpleasant, and Maka was finding that she wasn’t too big of a fan of him. However, she did quiet down and walk a bit faster; as much of a grump this detective seemed to be, he had a valid point: They were here to help with a series of children going missing, not to have fun. She couldn’t blame him if he was temperamental, this was a pretty serious issue.

So she followed Elijah through the streets with Soul scowling at her side, making sure to keep any snide remarks she had to herself. Now was not the time or place to be snippy.

Eventually they were lead to the precinct, a rather nondescript building on the outside. Elijah only said a few quick words to a few others on the way in for the cops to ignore Soul and Maka, and with that he had them being taken to a glass meeting room with a long oval table in the center of it.

There were a few whiteboards littered with case notes, scene photos, and names. A few carboard boxes were on the table, stuffed full of files that Maka could only assume were about this case. A couple of other officers were moving about the room, talking and discussing theories and ideas while flipping through one file and writing on the boards. The trashcans were full of empty Styrofoam coffee cups.

The people looked tired and stressed.

“Those are the files,” Elijah said, dragging a box over and shoving in to Maka. “Look through any of these that you want. We’ve got a list of suspects, but all of them have solid alibis for each kidnapping. What have you been told so far?”

Maka picked up the first file in the box, flipping it open and skimming the contents. “Kids have been getting stolen away. You’ve had about fifty in the past few years,” she answered, closing the file and picking up another, it’s information was fairly similar to the other; child had been alone, parent had left them alone for a few minutes to do something and when they came back the child was gone.

Taking a seat, Elijah threw his jacket over the back of the chair. “Half-right,” he said. “There has been fifty-eight reported cases of children going missing within a twenty-mile radius of this city, all within two years. Considering not all parents actually care, the exact number of children who are missing is no doubt higher.”

That didn’t make Maka feel any better.

Soul took a seat, leaning back and staring back at Elijah cooly. “And if it’s been two years, why haven’t you asked for help sooner?” he asked. “You sure waited a long time to ask Lord Death to send someone to help you, waited until there were too many kids gone. This an attempt to save face or something?”

He was baiting him, looking for a reaction, but Elijah gave him none. His gaze wasn’t stoic, it wasn’t uncaring, it was tired, it was the look of a man who didn’t have a single fuck left to give to the two of them. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate. Call it bureaucratic bullshit.” Elijah reached over to grab a coffee from the table, probably cold by now and already half-drank. “Politicians wanting to protect their bloody pride by not accepting outside help.”

“You don’t sound like you agree,” Soul continued.

“I don’t. They sat on their hands too fucking long and look where we are now,” Elijah responded, drinking the cold coffee.

Maka ignored them as they talked, instead focusing on the files as she went through one after the other, skimming through and taking in the information quickly until she had gone through half the files in the box. It was then that she looked up at the detective.

“You said it had been two years, right?” she asked, and when Elijah hummed a response, she continued. “Who was the first recorded victim?”

Elijah watched her evenly for a few moments before getting up from his seat. He pulled over another file box, rummaging through the folders before pulling one out. “Amanda Lewis,” he answered, opening it and sliding it across the table to Maka and Soul. “Twelve years old. Two years ago she left school but never made it home.”

Maka took the file into her hands, looking at the girl in the photo. She was small, long black hair, dark eyes. What Maka noticed first was that it was a school photo that was used in the file, not a personal one, not the kind of photo the family would have kept in their home. She moved the paper to look at other photos, her school, the route she was known to usually take, her house, her room.

Leaning over to look at the file, Soul glanced at the papers and then at Maka. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, Maka?” he asked.

She frowned, looked at the papers. This was the official start of it all, the first child who went missing. Well, if Maka and Soul were going to be on the case, they needed to start from the beginning. “Detective Elijah, is there any way we can speak with the Lewis family tomorrow?”

Elijah raised a brow, “You have their statements right there,” he pointed out.

“I have questions I’d like to ask that aren’t found in here.”

There was a small pause, Elijah once again assessing her, “We’d like to avoid causing more distress to the families,” he said slowly, carefully. “But, if you think it’s important that we talk with them again, I’ll make the call and arrange for a meeting with them. Anything else?”

Maka began reorganizing the files, putting them back into their boxes. “Can we takes these with us? So we can read them and be ready for tomorrow?” she asked him. They’d need to familiarize themselves with the details of the case, and it’d be easier for them to do so when they get to their hotel rooms rather than try and read through the files all right here.”

“We’ve got copies of the files, so take the boxes with you,” Elijah nodded, grabbing the other two boxes and shoving them towards Soul and Maka. “If that’s all, then you two can leave, do your readings, and I’ll call you both tomorrow about meeting with the Lewis’. Get your sleep, and get ready because I can guarantee this isn’t going to be some easy hunt a monster and be done with it case like you’re familiar with.”

Soul chuckled as he stood, picking up a box and holding it in his arms, “If that’s your way of saying we’re not up to snuff, then you’re in for a treat.”

[gusgus48]

Hobbit Modern AU Ideas

Modern AU –

fili racecar driver - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169317228648/fili-racecar-driver

Being a writer and fili, the biggest racer around takes your brainstorming for your novel as your exposing his private moments. Cue the apologies and attempts to make it up to you.

X Thranduil

Death threats - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/178575054578/death-threats-idea

A habit of yours to calm down finds you drug before the King when your angered words come to light. Humor is found in the fumble but you are not to be released just yet as your safety cannot be guaranteed.

 Muse - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/174860431823/muse

You find yourself unknowingly as a muse for an artist in your life. This Is brought to your attention when the crew collecting his art for a show claims the wrong collection, the one all centered around you.

X Thorin

Holiday Pay Idea - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/179959419773/holiday-pay-idea

Your attempt at helping out a coworker lands you as his intended and meeting the family over the holidays.

 Cruise Idea - https://blankdblank.tumblr.com/post/177171050044/cruise-idea

You and Thorin both get sent on a couples cruise alone. Easy enough to hide right? Wrong one of the directors for the entertainment takes enjoyment at flaunting lone passengers the whole cruise, hearing this you both come to an agreement that takes quite a turn.

 Thorin x reader in highschool - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169394392648/thorin-x-reader-in-highschool-you-dont-speak

Going to the same high school with the Durins. You have a crush on Thorin but what he took as an invitation to attend a dance as a group was turned down. He attends anyway only to learn you didn’t go at all. The young prince has to find a way to make it up to you.

X Dwalin

Writer - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/174861184993/writer

Being your neighbor’s favorite author and they swoop in for secrets.

 Mr Fabulous - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/175646270903/mr-fabulous

Your giant grimacing neighbor, with whom you share a love for tiny fuzzy animals turns out to be quite a dynamic character.

No Pairing Yet

Crush Comics - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169317279943/crush-comics

Making comics about your crush and their interactions with you in your daily lives.

 Fave band member loves your fan videos of their songs, searches for you - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169383389338/youre-in-love-with-a-bandsinger-always

Your habit of singing to your favorite band’s music is recorded and shared to the world by your younger sibling. Turns out the band loves those videos and your voice and awkward dancing through chores or cooking always brightens their mood and keeps them going. Their new album is almost ready, all they’re missing is a female singer, one person comes to mind. They post it to the world and it takes everything you can manage to keep your sibling from sharing who you are, only they’re not your only threat to your anonymity.

 Radio - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/172444731033/radio

Filling in on the radio one day lands you a full time gig, one that you use to sneak messages to your long time penpal, who just so happens to be a member of the band you love and the station has kept you from meeting for years. Possibly with the fans help two star crossed lovers could finally get their happily ever after. - Requested

 Stuck in a storm - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/174860909963/storm

You are stuck trying to interview a notoriously private clan. When your job is on the line in these terrible circumstances they take pity on you not realizing you would never accept it.

 Here comes the Bride - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/174861139468/here-comes-the-bride

Filling in for your identical relative on a gown fitting a certain prince charming comes racing in on his white steed to ensure no one steals you away.

 Challenge - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/174920589228/challenge

A drunken challenge for your hand is long since thought forgotten only to pop up one day when completed.

 Field Trip Buddies - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/175197096628/field-trip-buddies

Being a volunteer on a field trip and getting to know your relative’s favorite regular volunteer.

 Camp Counselor - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/178244588228/modern-durin-au-camp-counselors

Obvious, summer camp au.

Superstitious Idea - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/178795004908/superstitious-idea

You have habits in the office but the new Dwarves moved to your floor come up with some interesting reasons behind them.

Sharing is Caring Idea - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/179958415523/sharing-is-caring-idea

Coming to the aid of an actor/character when you both only need part of each of the items on your lists.

Possible Series

X Thorin Modern AU

Durins - Soccer/Rugby AU - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169316283943/durins-soccerrugby-au

Durins form a prof Rugby team. OC is on a college soccer team and unknowingly forms a bond with two of their relatives. Soon enough they find themselves moving in with her and her four wards, baby brother and three cousins she is the guardian of. The tapes the relatives send bring the Durins to being your biggest fans. (Your country – soccer is not big, theirs you easily become famous for your skills.)

 Durins Hockey Au - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169318714293/durins-hockey-au

Being the top female hockey player and pairs figure skater with your cousin. Your Brother(twin) gets signed to the best hockey team around, the captain of which is your biggest fan. Your teams play the same venues different times so you travel together, feelings are formed and along the way an assumed marriage is brought to light only to have said lover boy racing to claim you when he learns the truth.  - Requested

 Pen Pal - https://blankdblank.tumblr.com/post/177169884209/pen-pal-idea

As a child Thorin still was a force to be reckoned with. Claiming a contract with his pen pal to marry when old enough silencing his elders on choosing for him. Well, you’re all grown up and heart broken at the cruel behavior of those around you, time to see if that contract is still valid I suppose.

 Who’s the daddy? – modern thorin/fenrir x reader - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/172235275403/whos-the-daddy

A one night stand with the identical brothers leaves you expecting. But unwelcome among his clan after the death of one the other chooses exile to care for you and their child.

 Cologne - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/177246296128/random-cologne-idea

Being at odds with your coworker, who is in a jealous rage at the cologne you come into work wearing each day, something he realizes has a much deeper significance to you when you are seen breaking down in your bosses’ office.

 Bachelor/Bachelorette AU - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/177450852493/bachelorbachelorette-au

Being signed up on Bachelor with one of the young Durins, the twist, this season has a Survivor element to it. Final three rolls around and the man on his knee is not the man you were signed up to be won over by.

 Bear Reserve - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/177621378168/kinda-have-a-story-idea

The new detectives in town soon find some haunted houses are better left unexposed to the towns they are housed in, wishing to keep the treasures within to themselves, but secrets were meant to be exposed. This one is just right in front of everyone’s nose.

 The Replacement - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/177724191048/the-replacement

Your Cousin once again flaked on her contracted role in a popular Dwarf tv crime show, good thing she’s got an identical Cousin right? At least that’s what the director believes.

Prison Break - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/178315239783/prison-break

Being a guard in a High level prison. Getting to know the new prisoners your belief in good vs evil are tested and you are faced with a choice, do what is right or do what you’re trained to do.

Sunny Side up – https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/180169411908/sunny-side-up

Staying at your Cousin’s house through your floor being switched out, he shares with his Boyfriend and Boyfriend’s Cousin. One thing he didn’t mention, they’re kinda sorta nudists.

Red Belt Idea - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/181399622698/red-belt-idea

Meeting your soulmate and when you try to focus on work magical belts bind you together.

 X Thranduil Modern AU

Thranduil Soulmate - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/169394526418/thranduil-soulmate

When you find your soulmate you can hear and feel after your heart starts beating for the first time. In a senseless existence you find a way to stun everyone by mastering several instruments and singing, a chance encounter with your mate gives you a blurry glimpse of what you are both missing. In your years apart he grows to quite a fulfilling career as a news anchor even without being able to hear, also learning to speak without others knowing his set back. Years pass and after a few chance encounters you manage to slip him your email, growing to learn one another you fall for one another only to finally hear each other on your path into the same elevator.

 Convenience - https://blankdblank.tumblr.com/post/177190641469/convenience-idea

Forming a marriage of convenience to protect his Son’s best friend takes a turn a few years down the line when he learns his Wife truly does love him and has all along causing him to nearly break your heart at his aloof demeanor. *cracks knuckles* time for some romance. Someone is getting wooed.

 Death’s Flower Shop - https://blankdblank.tumblr.com/post/178654618699/modern-thranduil-idea

Modern Thranduil idea, soulmates, the dead are collected by flower delivery people, a chance encounter saves the lands of a King and the people inside. (Please just read the story, not even a page long, hard to summarize properly)

Save the whales - https://gusgus48.tumblr.com/post/180169676853/save-the-whales

Staying at leg’s for the night, they have a shower sharing rule (keep it running to save water for the next guy bit) Thranduil’s waiting on the other side of the curtain half asleep.

[scribbles-by-kate]

Thought on 7.9 “One Little Tear”

I think a lot of people suspected Lady Tremaine was Rapunzel, especially when the Gothel reveal was made. So, they did a Disney-heroine-turned-villain story, instead of doing a villain-turned-hero/heroine story, like before. It’s the first time they’ve done that!

Rapunzel Tremaine - we’d all probably guessed it, but it was still fun that Rumple got to be the one to say it :) It was interesting to see her sacrificial love for her family get twisted when Gothel tricked her and then things didn’t go her way. When she saw her family had moved on and Drizella was calling another woman ‘Mother’ you could see her jealousy and her love turning into obsession. She’ll do whatever it takes to have her family, even hurt others, and that’s the point where you turn into a villain. If you’re hurting innocent people, you aren’t a hero any more.

Tremaine and Rumple - so, if she didn’t know him by sight, she knew of him. She knew who he was and what he was looking for. She just didn’t know him enough to have known he called people ‘dearie’, or maybe she did and she was just playing it cool. Interesting that he snaps his fingers when she mentions the dagger. I suppose he wanted to see what she knew before he revealed himself. I’m not surprised he agreed to help her for information about the Guardian. He’s probably feeling desperate, taking any opportunity to get what he needs.

Tremaine is so evil - giving Lucy back only to then trick Jacinda and use the ‘evidence’ to destroy Lucy’s belief. Ugh! She acts like she cares about Jacinda and Lucy, but she only cares about what she wants. At least now Jacinda knows she really cares for Henry, but they have a long road ahead…

Gothel’s test - testing someone to see if they’ll harm an innocent is just mean. Of course most people would resort to drastic measures to keep their family with them, especially after being cruelly separated from them. Say what you want about Rumple, but he always told people the price for his help. People never went in blind with him, not like Rapunzel did with Gothel. It’s not fair exchange if you don’t tell someone the price. You’re just going to make them desperate, and of course they’re going to resort to desperate measures then. Seemed like she stacked the deck against Rapunzel from the beginning.

Rogers in the evidence locker - his face when he found his hook! :) I do suspect he’s going to be the next person to wake up. Hope so, at least. It’ll be interesting to see his dynamic with Rumple when he’s awake. And he knows something about the dagger, though he seems less focused on that after what Weaver tells him about himself, which is probably good. It’s always frightening when people become too interested in that dagger…

Rumple telling Tremaine about Bae - aw. He always opens up when he’s trying to get people to see the error of their ways. It’s a very interesting aspect of his character - don’t make the mistakes I made. I really do hope that referencing Bae means that we’re going to see him again at the end. Of course Tremaine is too full of her plans to heed his advice. I wonder what’s going on with the marks on her wrists. Is it part of Gothel trapping her in the tower, or is this the seed of pain that Drizella planted? Maybe just a reminder that Gothel is really the one with the power.

Kind of mean to have Rapunzel serving at her own daughter’s party - that was kind of icky. Well, Cecelia said she shouldn’t be working, but… Yeah, I thought that was weird. No wonder Rapunzel was mad. Why does she have to be a servant?

Gothel and Rumple - oooh, there’s something brewing there! She offers to help him and he says he won’t serve anyone. Rumple, you might wanna hide that dagger… Loved him snarling at her not to say Belle’s name! Loved him denying her ‘help’ as well. You can do this on your own, Rumple! Have a feeling these two are being pitted against each other.

Rumple searching for Lucy - you can see he feels bad. He probably should have thought about the price, but maybe he did and he just didn’t realise it would be Lucy. Maybe he didn’t think too much about it because he was so desperate for the ‘information’ Tremaine said she had. I can see how he’s just fumbling in the dark here, trying to do the right thing, but not always getting it right. I truly don’t believe he’s trying to hurt anyone. I don’t think it’s about finding the Guardian and screw everyone else: I don’t think he’s as self interested as he was before. I just think he’s trying to do his best, and feels bad when he gets it wrong. He doesn’t actually want anyone else to suffer so he can get what he needs: he’s actually grown - before he wanted what he wanted and no matter who suffered - he’s different now.

Gothel looking for the Guardian - someone pure of heart, incorruptible by evil, and willing to sacrifice. Well, that’s the first real information we’ve been given about the Guardian. That Gothel is looking for them too is a problem, because I’m not sure she wants them for the same reason that Rumple does… I don’t think their interests are going to align. I wonder why Gothel is looking for the Guardian… It seems to me that her ‘tests’ are kind of doomed to fail? The tests are cruel and don’t give people all the information they need to make an informed decision. That seems to set people up for failure, so is Gothel maybe trying to turn each potential Guardian into a dead end? So that Rumple can’t offload the Darkness, maybe? Although maybe she wants a potential Guardian to actually become the Guardian so she can corrupt them or take the magic for herself. Interesting that many people have the potential to be the Guardian too - suggests it’s somewhat of a moveable feast. And it’s interesting the Guardian is pure of heart, because that describes Rumple…

Rogers and Weaver - I love this scene. Weaver starts off so defensive, and then suddenly he opens up. I suppose he figures he’d better, or Rogers won’t leave it alone. Maybe he tells him about Belle to distract him from the dagger. Still, it’s so striking to see him open up like that, and to Captain Hook of all people!. Rogers isn’t awake: he can’t help him in any material way; yet he opened up to him in a way he wouldn’t with Regina. I suppose the failure of his plans with Tremaine made him take a different tack. Maybe he figured he’d better talk to someone before he makes another mistake and someone else goes missing or gets hurt. I loved that Rogers believed him and that he wants to help him - Captain Hook helping Rumplestiltskin! Who would ever think that could happen?! And I loved Weaver just saying ‘Yeah, ok’ all amazed that he actually has help now! And yet, he’s not solely focused on the Guardian or reuniting with Belle, because when Rogers asked what they should do, Weaver said ‘find Lucy’, so he’s not just out for himself: he actually does give a crap about his family. I do think we’re going to see him really help Regina and Henry out at some point. Now that he’s opened up to Rogers, maybe he’ll come into the fold a bit more. We shall see.

[strawberry-skies-xx]

listening

prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He’s devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it’s not God that’s been listening. And he realizes that he’s not asking - he’s been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King.

tags: religious blasphemy i think? boyking Sam, Ruby

A/N: Ruby’s true name, Proserpine, is another name for Persephone. I took it from another fic on AO3: A Threefold Path to Redemption by rei_c.

----- images aren’t working on tumblr for me so this is the new divider ----

Sam had never been comfortable holding rosary beads. His hands always seemed to sting after and the wood seemed to bite into his skin even though it was sanded perfectly smooth. 

It happened with his crucifix necklace, too. The silver seemed to burn against his neck, the crucifix’s fire seeming to make its way down his body from where it lay in the hollow of his throat. 

Praying was different. Even as his skin seemed to be too small for him and he was painfully aware of every line of holy silver or wood against it, prayer didn’t do that. Not usually, at least. The words only tasted like ash when he said something specifically religious, such as God or Heaven. Other times, the words seemed to ring around him, echoing silently around the church and making Sam feel like someone was actually listening. 

Sam was devoted. He went to church every day and prayed as he should, yet he couldn’t recite the Lord’s Prayer. He knew he should be able to, but he stumbled over the phrases and the words felt like glass cutting his throat. He recited it anyway, because if God didn’t want him then he’d fight for his own redemption. 

He’d asked why several times. Why did it hurt, why did he seem to be the only one who had this, why did he feel better saying the words Satan and evil and demon than he did saying any religious name. He never got an answer - those were the prayers that whoever was listening (God was listening, Sam told himself) wouldn’t answer. 

Until now. 

He had prayed and asked why and now he was standing in a pew looking at a woman with dark hair and darker eyes, smirking at him. She stood casually, hands in her jean pockets and looking like she knew something he didn’t. Which, she probably did, Sam thought. 

“Who are you?” Sam asked, because she’d appeared out of nowhere and there was no requirement for formalities. His mind told him demon in a hissing whisper, and he felt something stirring in him because of her presence, but she hadn’t said anything so logically he shouldn’t know who she was already. Not as certainly as he did, anyway, not like the coiling, smirking, confident thing shifting in his mind and the way his body straightened, certain of his position over her. Which made no sense, the logical part of Sam’s mind told him, yet that part was quickly losing. 

She smiled. “I thought you’d already know that, Sam,” she said, and Sam again got the feeling that she knew something very important that he didn’t and it was bothering him. The new thing inside him hissed at him to demand it from her, to take what he wanted because she was less than him and he had the power here -

He ignored the whispers because they made no sense, he told himself, and the whispers laughed, saying that he knew they made perfect sense and he just didn’t want to accept it, he knew exactly what he was and he was being stubborn. He ignored that too, fighting desperately against this thing rising inside him, coiling and striking against the suffocation of the church’s holy air and Sam’s walls of devoted religious belief that were slowly crumbling. 

Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe. The church air usually felt too hot, too humid, but this was worse. It was choking off his words, and Sam had to take a deep breath even though it felt like glass down his throat. “I don’t… I have no idea who you are,” he said, and he felt the lie in his words though he had really never met this woman before. 

She smiled. “I’m Ruby,” she replied, and the thing in Sam rebelled at this - she was lying, trying to deceive him and that he should punish her for that. He ignored it, only paid attention to the lies part and the soft whisper in his mind that said Proserpine. 

“No it’s not,” he said. She raised one eyebrow, mildly surprised yet Sam still felt like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Okay, then what is it?” she asked, in the way that someone would ask a child a question knowing that they didn’t know the correct answer. The thing inside Sam hissed with irritation at this - insubordination, it supplied, but Sam forced it down and called it ignorance. He tried to ignore how the whispers laughed again, saying that they were one and the same and Sam was too soft to do what he knew he had to. 

“You’re going by your vessel’s name, Ruby, but your true name is Proserpine,” he said, and the name echoed around the church, curling tendrils of darkness contained in the holiness of the church’s walls. Sam tried to ignore how his skin didn’t burn when he said the name and how it rolled off his tongue as easily as God’s name never had. Ruby shifted a step back, fear flashing in her eyes for a split second before it was smoothed over into a calm mask. 

“So you already know a demon’s true name. So what?” she said, trying to hide the discomfort in her voice. 

He shrugged. “I read about demon’s true names. The right person can control a demon completely with their true name. Coercion, possession, magic. If someone knows a demon’s true name, then they’re screwed.” Ruby’s eyes flicked down and Sam followed them as they glanced back up. He took a step forward. “Am I the right person?”

Sam ignored the soft hisses in his head of yes, yes, this is exactly who you are, you are the one who controls them. He focused instead on how Ruby didn’t reply, and didn’t notice the way the hisses curled around his thoughts, the slow, illogical anger rising in him. His voice got harder and he suddenly took. 

“Proserpine.”

Her head snapped up to look at him, a sliver of amber flashing around her pupils before disappearing. She nodded. “You are the right person, Sam,” she said, then her voice became looser, more relaxed. She walked forward, between the pews and towards Sam. “You’ve always felt… wrong being in a church, right? Everything burns, your body feels like it’s too small for you. Even the air seems to rebel against your presence here,” she said, not a question but Sam still nodded as if it was one. 

He ignored how close she was and how the burning in his body seemed to calm even more the closer she was, the air around him cool and his breaths not burning his throat. He looked down at her. “Why can’t I say the Lord’s Prayer?” he asked, and His name felt like holy fire in his mouth as it always did, and the whispers switched to hisses and something struck against his body like a snake, fire running through him and fading. 

She laughed. “You’re praying for the wrong king. You’re the other side of the coin, Sam. You’re not the prayed for, you’re the prayed to. Don’t you know what you are by now?”

He glanced down, nodded, felt the thing inside him purr at this admission. “King of Hell,” he whispered, and the air around him seemed to twist and curl, snapping against his skin, every holy part of the church rebelling against him. 

She put her hands against his chest and looked up at him. He looked down, meeting her eyes; they were earnest and sincere. “Why pray to the king when you are the king?”

Sam had three realizations then. One, the thing inside him wasn’t just inside him, it was him. Two, this was who he was and he couldn’t escape it, so he let the thing he’d been feeling since the beginning of this meeting flood through him, icy cold and contrasting sharply with the holy fire of the church air. 

Three, he was a walking blasphemy and that, somehow, was more than okay with him. 

He looked up and there was a congregation of people standing in front of him. Demon, his mind whispered, names flashing through his brain as he looked at each one. He smirked, hand going up to his crucifix necklace and enjoying the fire that spread through his body, a cruel sense of satisfaction running through him at his rebellion against the church he’d prayed to for so long. His eyes flicked down to Ruby, who was looking at him with something akin to pride and adoration. 

“How do I start?”

[evolutionsvoid]

Before becoming what he is now, Englorious Shaid was once a human sorcerer. While some may use some magical prowess for good, Englorious only cared to use his talents to further his own goals. He desired more and more power, and did so through magical experimentation and the collection of ancient magical artifacts. Those who were unfortunate enough to live near the accursed tower he called home knew well that their land and homes were his testing grounds. Whatever artifact or tool he got his hands on were tried out on the locals, with no regard of their safety or lives. Eventually, his cruel antics caught the attention of a band of heroes, who sought to purge this evil. The team attacked his home and defeated his various minions, all building up to the final battle. The clash that ensued was one worthy of legend, as the sorcerer threw all his power at the knights. Seeing that swords and blades could not fell such a powerful foe, the heroes took one of his ancient tools and turned it against him. The spell tore Englorious' soul from his body and fused it into one of his crystal balls. An empty husk, his once proud body crumbled to dust, and the sorcerer was vanquished. The heroes took the imprisoned sorcerer and presented it to the king as a trophy of their conquest. For many weeks, the soul of Englorious was locked away in the guarded halls, screaming from his crystal prison. For some time, they guarded his sealed soul, but as the weeks rolled on, security got lax. With no proof that Englorious could use his powers in his current state, they believed that he was no longer threat. When the orb was left unguarded, Englorious' minion, Kree-Tal, crept in and rescued his master. 

The trapped soul was spirited back to his destroyed tower, with pursuers no doubt following behind. Using old safeguards placed within his home, Kree-Tal was able to activate the pre-placed runes and teleport the entire tower to a hidden location. The massive spell succeeded in relocating them to unknown territory, but it also caused even more damage to his base. Regardless of his home's condition, Englorious worked with Kree-Tal in finding a way to release his soul. After many attempts and failures, the best they were able to do was crack the orb and free Englorious' magical abilities. With his power, he was able to create a false form to move about with, but his soul remained locked away in the orb. With no real solution in sight, Englorious was content with this temporary solution and looked to rebuilding his home and strength. As he fixed up his tower and curated his surviving artifacts, he believed that this new form would work so much better for him then a measly fleshy body. At first he welcomed this new shadowy form, seeing the potential it had. As time wore on, though, Englorious began to miss the simple pleasures of having a body. Eating, drinking and sleeping was something he longed to do once again. With that, Englorious has now brought his focus upon finding himself a new body, and a spell that would allow him to move his soul into it.   

Attitude - Englorious is a patient and methodical person, trained in these ways by his years of using magic. Anything he does calls for planning and tactics, a practice that he can spend hours on. Anytime he looks to launch a mission or seek out a magical artifact, every little thing needs to be researched and looked into. He prefers to do things in a slow and elegant manner, with no rushing or blind flailing. Everything must be organized and put in its proper place, which can be seen with his vast collection of magical artifacts. His archives is meticulously sorted, labelled and stored, to the point where he loathes using any of them in fear of damaging them or screwing up his system. Educated in the ways of magic and other talents, Englorious enjoys studying and reading the many tomes that his library contains. Some say that his desire for planning and research is just an excuse for him to read through more books and scrolls. As an educated man (as he likes to call himself), he looks down on the brute force of physical combat and the blindly aggressive ways of warriors. To him, the use of swords and shields is one peg up from smacking one another with sticks. Those who do not care for reading, studying or any kind of planning are instantly seen as dumb in his eyes. Such love for elegance and finesse is the driving reason he wants a body again. When he was human, he enjoyed good food and wine, which is something he can no longer have. His shadowy form is incapable of taste, smell and touch, which has begun to drive him mad. Though his new form offers many other benefits, he yearns to be able to drink his favorite wine once again, while enjoying a good tome next to a warm fire. This desire has grown so much that Englorious has his servant, Kree-Tal, cook fake meals for him to eat. At the designated times that one eats, Englorious sits himself at his banquet table to "enjoy" the food that Kree-Tal prepares for him. Though he cannot eat, drink or even smell, he acts like he can, often commenting that the food "smells delicious" or that the use of spices is "exquisite." Outside of this fantasy of his, the food and drink just ends up landing on the floor, which Kree-Tal then cleans up after the meal. Englorious knows that this seems ridiculous to others, but he goes through this ritual just to keep himself sane. It is just another reason why he needs to find a new body and the correct spell that will let him claim it. He can spend countless days researching and looking into the perfect form for him to inhabit, and his top picks will frequently change as he weighs the pros and cons. When in pursuit of a physical body, even Englorious can stray away from his well laid plans, as his desires get the best of him and he rushes to claim his prize. This usually ends in defeat for him, which only strengthens his belief that meticulous planning is a must for everything.   Relations - When a human, Englorious never worked with any one else. Seeing himself as superior to all others, and having a vast array of spells at his fingertips, he never saw the point of working together. Now that he has been knocked down a couple pegs and is working to regain his former glory, Englorious has turned to outside sources of help. His main source of aid (and grief) is King Olaf the Seventh. Englorious only knew of Olaf because the teleportation of his tower landed him near the mountain range that Olaf rules. Englorious met with the power-hungry king and was immediately turned off from the immature ruler. He saw Olaf as foolish, egotistical and just plain stupid. The king's plans and goals were absolutely ludicrous and shoddily put together. Englorious saw no need for the king and looked to never speak to him again. It was only with Kree-Tal's prodding that he agreed to meet once again with Olaf and discuss a partnership. While Englorious had magic and knowledge, he lacked resources and manpower, which Olaf had in droves. This partnership was further solidified when Olaf revealed that he possessed an ancient, indecipherable tome known as The Stitched Manuscript. This book of primordial knowledge was passed down by his ancestor, but the ability to read it was not. Englorious took interest with it, as he believed it could contain the spell that would at last give him a new body. So with that, the two formed a partnership. To this day, their deal still holds, but it has been very rocky since day one. Englorious' first impression of King Olaf has not changed at all, as the bumbling ruler is still a pride-driven fool. Olaf constantly demands results and rarely follows plans, which infuriates Englorious. This irritation is only increased when Olaf tries to steal magical artifacts from Shaid's archives, and complains that he never lets him use them. Even when Englorious is given access to The Stitched Manuscript he is still bothered by Olaf. The king is extremely protective of the book and requires dozens of Tin Soldiers watching over Englorious at all times. Englorious despises the controlled environment that Olaf forces on him when he is trying to decipher the tome, and finds it very difficult to get any work done. To top it all off, they always end up arguing with each other when things fall apart, blaming one another and refusing to take responsibility. At times it is a wonder on why they even work together.

Outside of Olaf, Englorious has had run ins with various other characters. While working with Olaf, he has met Marianess, a shade from the Underworld who also helps the king out from time to time. Englorious dislikes her as well, as he finds her brutish, blunt ways offensive and simple minded. In turn Marianess sees him as a know-it-all snob. The only time the two can agree with each other is when it comes to complaining about Olaf or making fun of him. They can at least bond over that. He has met Baalastor during his time with Marianess, as the shade loves to drag the ancient demon around with her. Out of the whole lot, he is the only one that Englorious is fine with being around. Baalastor acts much more professionally than the others and takes time in his actions. The only thing Englorious dislikes about him is his lack of motivation and the fact he doesn't really seem to care about whatever they are doing. Another run-in has been with Ver'Rahl the necromancer, but these meetings have been brief and not very professional. The two have just seen each other on the battlefield, when their forces seek to destroy the Knights of the Wrong Table. Englorious despises the idea of even talking with Ver'Rahl, mainly because he is a necromancer. Englorious always says that necromancers are the drama queens of the magic world, never shutting up about life, death and other stupidly "dark" things. Even away from that, Ver'Rahl is a pretty vile person to begin with, so Englorious sees no point in working with him.     Subordinates - The one being that he has working for him is Kree-Tal, a sentient crystal ball that has been passed down through his family. Kree-Tal does the work of a butler, taking care of the tower and maintaining the vast collections. Though Kree-Tal does the cleaning, organizing and cooking, Englorious does not look down on him. Rather he treats him like an equal, asking him for advice and running ideas past him. He sees Kree-Tal as an important source of information, as he has served under his ancestors for many years. The two work well together, and Englorious would never think of mistreating his servant. In the rare case where Kree-Tal objects with an order or task, Englorious will actually respect him and think it over. Abilities - To list Englorious' abilities would be a near impossible task, as he has many spells at his disposal. As a well-trained sorcerer, he can unleash a devastating amount of elemental spells, as well as weave illusions and other magical tricks. When in simple combat, he is content with hurling missiles of ice, fire and lightening at foes. It is during tricky situations when he uses more complex spells. His shadowy form aids these abilities for him, as it is impervious to all physical damage. His shadow body can become intangible at any time he wishes, so blades and arrows will simply pass right through him. This helps when he is unleashing explosive spells, as he doesn't have to worry about damaging his shadow limbs. He is also capable of creating more than two arms at a time, so that he can hurl multiple spells. When enraged or need of a quick retreat, he can produce dozens of shadowy arms and barrel through the battlefield at blinding speeds. The other benefit his shadow body has is the lack of flesh. Since he does not have mortal flesh and muscle, he does not have to worry about mana poisoning or Mancer Syndrome. There is no physical body for him to taint, so he can use a variety of powerful spells without worry. This gives him a heads up above other mages and sorcerers who must manage their mana use in fear of poisoning their natural mana.   Tools - Due to his vast collection of magical artifacts, and the fact he is always looking for more, Englorious has a wide array of tools at his disposal. The problem is that he values them more as antiques and collections, then as weapons for war. From time to time he will pull one out for use, but often he is very hesitant and worried about damaging them. He also possess tomes and scrolls that he can use to craft spells and other abilities. When on a mission, he will handpick ones that will work best for his goals and bring them along. Outside of the realm of magic is his spider legged pedestal. This is run by the mana that courses through his orb, which allows him to move about on his own. This set of legs is not used as a weapon by any means, and is just used for locomotion.     Weaknesses - His biggest weakness is the orb body that his soul is trapped in. Despite his large, shadowy form, his true body is held inside the spider-legged construct. Attacks and blows on this small body will disrupt his shadow form and whatever spells he was casting. With it being small, it can easily be launched or thrown, which will drag his shadow form with it. If the orb is shattered, it will splinter his soul into fragments, effectively killing him, unless it is fused back together quick enough. Another problem is his reliance on magic, seeing it as the one and only tool. With mana and magic on his side, he can be a devastating opponent, but if he is cut off from his source or drained, he can do little else. His desire for a body to inhabit can cause him some problems, as it forces him to make plans that involve capturing opponents alive. This just adds more difficulty to his efforts and more things he has to take care of. It also can force him to make rash choices, as he is desperate for a new body so that he can eat and drink once more.   ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Englorius Shaid, a character whose name I should probably change to something less stupid, but I kind of like it too much.