#her design went through the war she was supposed to have water powers but still be a healer? idk what i was thinking

[emberlyric]

last night I designed the concept for a new superhero - she's a member of the gang Solstice and her aesthetic is all about red, blood, healing, body systems, etc

super excited to draw her. her alias is Suture which sounds sick

[nightsinfoxx15]

FOXX15 Character lineup (+ Lore) Pt. 1

OOOOOOHHH THE LONG PROJECT IS DONE—

I made a whole google sheets for another project that I had an idea of doing at first but I ended up forgetting it and left it MONTHS later.

so I made a character lineup to excuse my early project:

Warning: this will be update as time goes on within the series of FOXX15

Lineup one:

Alyssa

Featured in Elementals

Fire type swordswoman

early designs she was based off of Lara Croft hence the adventurous outfit she have on as her hero form.

her sword is based off from FF7 cloud’s sword

Azenith

She’s gonna be featured in a lot of the series except for Madame Carolyn (She’s in Elementals, Shattered Nights, Nevada War, and Next Gen)

her earlier design was supposed to be a Lynx, turned into a White Tiger to represent an Las Vegas known magicians Siegfried and Roy with their infamous white tigers (one of them being Manticore) but then I decided to do a snow leopard because it would be majestical to her water/ice powers as snow leopards are native in colder climates.

also Lynx don���t really exists in Nevada—

Her sword is also a cane/staff. Even though she doesn’t have trouble walking. I thought it would be cool to have a cane like sword sheath.

Her whole hero outfit was supposed to be corresponding to Jason’s hero form (which we will get into later) as cat alliances.

Bob

Former Nevada Governor (late 80s throughout the 90s) so he is a former ruler god of Nevada

Featured in Madame Carolyn and Shattered Nights briefly

During his last term as governor, he tried eradicating the Nevada dragon species for the sake of peoples safety. He made a genocide killing almost half the population of the dragon species living in Nevada in 1999. Which made him and Janis (which will be introduced soon) fought in December 1999 to January 2000

Brian

Featured in Elementals, Madame Carolyn, (maybe in Shattered Nights and Nevada War)

I made him as Michele nervous wreck assistant at first before I decided to go against her actions (pretty much every council member’s reaction except for one)

He didn’t had anything incorporated except for being a Lust demon with pink fire so I decided to turn him as a healer

Bryce

Still deciding on when he’s supposed to be featured in the series but mainly he’s supposed to be in Nevada War or Shattered Nights

Former Governor of Nevada (2011-2016) He became the first Angel form to become a Seraphim of Nevada

His seraphim dragon form are based on the colors of earth to match his dragon tail which is a gradient of blue and green

double swordsman

Lineup 2:

Carter

Las Vegas’ Justice of the peace judge

real momma’s boy (can’t keep no bitches)

His early design, he was supposed to be a Lust demon but I changed him into a Lust dragon because I said so (I like designing dragons for my series lol)

Third eldest son of Oscar and Madame Carolyn

Cassandra

Featured in Elementals

She had a little redesign. She was supposed to have a purple mask representing her as a Puerto Rican woman but decided to get rid of it because the masks I was looking up were native to Cuba so I ended up getting rid of it

Her hero outfit still became simplistic as time went on

Electrical powers color codes with her outfit color (purple)

Cassie

Featured in Elementals

She’s a secret assassin for Michele’s mafia using Roses as a secret weapon to kill off their target

Her early design was based off of Assassins creed costume designs from the cape/hood designs

her powers are based on the moon. Roses are a big part of her powers but the moon have most control in powerful moves and abilities (source: Elementals, fiery Moonlight)

Cedric

Featured in Elementals and Madame Carolyn (might be featured in Nevada War)

he hasn’t changed too much. He’s still the same 🧍‍♀️

Cerena

Featured in Elementals (and maybe Shattered Nights, Nevada War, and Next Gen)

She gone through a lot of redesigns in the past when introducing her in 2021 (same with her friends Justine, Raya, and Vivian)

She’s next in line in the Sun Goddess of Las Vegas as she is the princess of the Sun Goddess (Marisol)

As going through a bunch of redesigns, at first she was going to correlate to her name (moon goddess Serena) and have her control water but I had her changed designs and she still has it but mainly she use her Sun spells as the series starts developing

Lineup 3

Christopher

Featured in Elementals

his outfit stayed the same until I redesigned him and Kyla (soon to be introduced) two nights ago

Clara

Feature in Shattered Nights

Big advocate in the dragon species (as she is a counselor to help people with genocidal trauma for the dragon species

She’s similar in terms of power like her mom (Madame Carolyn) but as a Lust demon, she’s more of an affectionate wrath dragon demon

Debra

Mayor of Henderson and Lady of the moonlight in Henderson

Featured briefly in Elementals as “Mayor March”, appearance in Madame Carolyn, and will be showing up in Shattered Nights and Nevada War

She had minor redesigns along the way as I started going in and Worldbuilding on Henderson, Nevada in late 2021 and early 2022

She’s in a relationship with Madame Carolyn

“Sweet and innocent before sending her off to church camp” type of woman.

Dixie

Baby Bison ✨

Justine’s Bison, she got her from her dad at a really young age. Technically, Dixie and Justine grew up together

Dixie is named after college in Southern Utah (Formerly known as Dixie State University) she was a plush toy that I got during junior year of high school year in Utah 😭

Domingo

Cerena’s father

Sun goddess’s husband (Marisol)

Sun god of Las Vegas

the dude gone through at least two redesigns until I finally said this was it

he was originally gonna be Ghost’s bodyguard but it wouldn’t make no sense on how it would be played out and I haven’t gave in much thought

his name is a translation of “Sunday” in Spanish

Part Two coming up next

[edge-lorde]

i wish in the show when the boats crashed they would show pieces of them still floating over the water for the rock theory to work better.

alas...

i agree about modern technology in etheria being largely overlooked in favor of more simple, elegant magical alternatives already existing. I also like some first ones tech still being used by the princesses every day, like the holo display in brightmoon being first ones tech.

it is odd to me how the show strongly implies that all of the runestone kingdoms on etheria had to have been installed by the first ones because of their connection to the heart, and all (/almost all if you count the fire kingdom) are still in existence 1000 years later, but even the ruling class has forgotten their connection to the first ones and how to read their writing. i guess its necessary for plot reasons and is interesting, but it feels odd that there would be no continuing record of it.

like the oldest king recorded on britroyals is from the year 757 . thats over 1000 years ago, and china has records of dynasties going back to the bronze age like 1600 bc. yes many changes have happened, but 1000 years doesn't seem long enough to make them totally forget their history AND have kept the kingdoms in place. unless, the kingdoms formed after mara caused a planet wide apocalypse. But if so, how could brightmoon have working first ones tech built into their palace? idk.

as for the scorpian kingdom-- tryant king scorpio is as good of an explanation as any. it would explain why the horde would overthrow them first.

i also thought more about scorpias place in all of this. it confused me why if the horde stands for an anti-princess society they would keep scorpia in a privileged position and even tell her she was supposed to be the princess of the black garnet and giver her pictures of her parents. if they didnt want a princess led society and also didnt want to get rid of a baby, also fine. why not just not tell her shes a princess and toss her in with the other orphans? i think the answer is shadow weaver.

when adora came through the portal as a baby, shadow weaver was already enmeshed in the horde. we know she was eventually given access to the black garnet for her power. scorpia doesn't seem like shecould be more than a few years older than catra and adora and the other main teen cast, meaning she was probably a small child when adora was a baby. maybe scorpia was meant to be shadow weavers first adora-- shadow weaver would have known scorpia would have been able to connect to the black garnet. maybe she had been planning to raise her the way she did adora, to be her eventual access point to the heart of etheria. then adora came through the portal, and shadow weaver realized adora was more special and switched her focus onto her, while keeping scorpia close by as a back up.

however, i also like the idea of the scorpion kingdom having mechanical technology before hordak got there so he could be influenced by tech that was already there and have kept the scorpion motif designs. i think maybe the other princesses didn't like the scorpion kingdom before the war because they had an industrial society that they saw as polluting and unnecessary, while the scorpion kingdom saw the other princesses societies as old fashioned and out of touch. as their tech industry became more sophisticated, they stopped venerating magic and saw the warrior-ruling class of princesses sitting in their castles in luxury while the people worked to support this lifestyle in times of peace as oppressive.

Even if grandpa scorpio wasn't personally a tyrant, the people could have seen his rule by birthright as inherently oppressive and the first to go.

then once hordak came onto the scene scorpion tech went from industrial to futuristic in under 30 years. I put it in the original posts tags as a joke, but i do think hordak would have been the one to create the etheria version of the internet, or what ever they used to skype each other and track locations. the hive mind certainly seems to work in a similar way to the internet so he would have been familiar with the concept when he arrived.

he would have created everything he did for purely practical reasons, and the internet and digital video would have been made for military purposes. like i feel the internet exists on etheria but theres no scoial media. theres digital video recording, like the recruiting video clip specials on youtube, but no place where people go to watch videos like youtube. its like the 80s, where most people outside of the military dont know about it and you have to be in the know in order to use it. being part of the etherian makers guild is how you could get in the know. this is how bow gets tracker pads for him and his dads, but they dont seem to be common outside of that. the makers guild would be the only way horde tech slowly gets out of the horde and starts influencing the rest of the planet. i could see individual horde soldiers/civilians (if they have any) being part of the guild and talking to nerds in brightmoon as a pastime.

i also headcanon that maybe dryl once supplied the scorpion kingdom with materials as a mining operation until the horde overtook it. the workers either left because business dried up because none of the other kingdoms had markets for large quantities of the materials they mined and they didnt want to supply the Horde, or left to straight up join the horde. this left a child entrapta alone in the castle to do with it as she wished..... (her parents either dead, or left to find business elsewhere with the intent to return but never did).

more spop world building notes

i was talking with an irl friend about my brightmoon head canons and mentioned to them how odd it was that the boats in spop don't seem to sit in the water, as can be seen from this screenshot of sea worthy:

they also float in the air sometimes i guess.

example of them in the water:

my friend noted that the fins look like hydrofoils , something i hadn't known about. theyre basically fins that go on the bottom of a boat and, qutoe from the wiki--

"As a hydrofoil craft gains speed, the hydrofoils lift the boat's hull out of the water, decreasing drag and allowing greater speeds."

real hydrofoils look like this:

the resemblance is even better with hydrofoil boards.

real hydrofoils have structures that go under the water in order to give the boat/board the lift to be able to rise up like this

but what if the same effect could be achieved a different way?

we know that there's a stark difference in technology between the horde and the rest of etheria, but Horde navel vessels also appear to float just over the surface of the water despite looking much heavier than the other etherian ships we see.

we also know they have other floating land vehicles like the skiffs.

much of their other vehicle technology has a scorpion aesthetic, as it was adopted or stolen from scorpias former kingdom. examples:

we also know that first one's technology combined magic with regular technology, and entrapta seems to be the first person to have been able to reinvent this kind of tech during the events of the show.

We also know that the galactic horde doesn't use magic in its technology at all, as its a major plot point in season 5.

other people have made theories that i agree with, (but don't feel like trying to dig up their posts) that when hordak arrived on etheria, he did so at a time when anti-princess sentiment was already high and was adopted into an existing conflict because he brought with him stronger technology that could even the playing field with people with magical powers. he then would joined with the scorpion nation in this effort in some way-- whether it was mutually beneficial or not.

this is the image of the scorpion nation being taken over by the horde that light spinner showed micah as a child to convince him to help her grow her own magical abilities

it should be noted that light spinner/shadow weaver was at this time a powerful sorceress in illusory magics and is a villian well known for manipulating children in her care (adora, catra, micah). The scorpion kingdom take over could have happened like this or been more of a mutual endeavor and this is just what she chose to show micah because she knew it would compel him to action. Evidence could point either way. Scorpia is the only living scorpion person we ever see in the show, but she's also been treated well (has her own room with a picture of her parents with her on display and a closet full of dresses) and been given status beyond her abilities in the horde. she's supposed to be a force captain in season one, before even catra is made one, and yet when she is left in charge of a crew of soldiers its played for laughs, as if she's never had to do that before in a meaningful way. at least to me, speaks to there having been an alliance between the growing Horde and the scorpion kingdom at least at some point, and maybe a promise to take care of a young princess that was honored.

the textual evidence in support of hordak bringing advanced tech to an old conflict is scorpia mentioning before the prom that the other princesses didn't like her kingdom even before the war, the face that the horde cadets grew up being fed anti-princess propaganda despite the horde harboring a known princess in a position of authority, and the tech that the horde has. As i said before some of it has a scorpion motif like it came from the scorpion kingdom, but some of it does look like what we see of galactic horde tech, notably hordaks lasers and the green forcefield prison cells present in both hordes.

we also know that hordak himself is an engineer, having made many technologies presumably by himself-- such armor to hide and manage his medical condition, something he did not want other people to know about. So its my opinion that all of the tech we seen in the etherian horde is an amalgamation of scorpion tech, galactic horde tech adapted by hordak as well as new designs he invented. none of which use magic before entrapta joins the horde.

so what is my point? well, the other etherian kingdoms other than dryl dont seem to use any modern tech at all, at least at the structural level. like bow and his parents have a data pads they can call each other with, but much of the way people are living in etheria looks almost medieval. the princesses dont seem to have any ground vehicles at all for example.

and yet both sides have floating boats.

one could say the princesses boats are magical while the horde boats use some kind of magnets or some other floating technology we don't have.

OR

you know what they do both have?

FLOATING ROCKS

so all of this to say...

what if they put rocks in the boat and it make it go up instead of down????

[konigsfaerie]

Sapphire Throne

Summary: While in the throne room, Loki finds a way to relieve his new queen's stress.

(sub!loki x dom!fem!reader)

cw: contains bdsm and femdom)

The Mortal Queen is what they called you, even though you were mortal no longer. You spent your childhood and formidable years on Earth, and when you met Loki and were taken to Asgard, your newfound people either loved or hated you. But the people that loved you adored you, would die for you, and the people that hated you really hated you, some going as far to commit treason to get you off of the throne. Some had views like Odin. Views such as mortals are of no consequence, only made to worship the gods of old and die at an early age. It infuriated them that someone from Earth could hold such power not only physically, but at court.

Nevertheless, Loki fell in love with you during your time on Earth and made you Asgard’s queen, and you stepped into the role with such love in your heart for your people, whether they detested you or not. As you sat on the throne, your love next to you, deciding whether to go into enemy territory, you placed a hand on your chin and contemplated for a moment, water running through your veins. “I hate to put our people at war again…. Our soldiers through more battles,” you said, your eyes falling to the floor and then back up to your council members. “But I fear if we don’t, Asgard might fall. We can’t risk our people like this.”

Most of the council members had the utmost respect for your rule, although one or two silently protested your status. “Is it decided, My Queen?”

You gave a look to Loki, and he nodded in return. “It is, Vastros. We will invade their territory within the next nightfall. We go to war this winter,” you proclaimed, slamming down your large staff, the color of lavender. The look on your face was no look of pride, of hope. It was the look of a woman knowing she would send her people to die, even though you were sure we’d win the war.

The entire castle shook with your proclamation, and Loki’s matching staff hummed in response. For many decisions, Loki let you take the lead, as he knew you needed to solidify your title as queen. It didn’t matter much, because on many, if not all issues, you eventually came to the same decision.

As the council members left in unison, both of you stayed at your thrones. You gave a deep sigh, a hand flying to your forehead.

You personally got to know almost all of the soldiers before you were first crowned. At first it was an act of simply wanting to gain trust among the people, but soon they became some of the most trusted friends you had. You were already a trained fighter, but the way of the Asgardians were much different, and your magic was extremely new to you. While you could wield the power of the elements, they taught you power of the supreme weapons they held. This was why it was so painful to declare war. You knew that many of the people you came to love so much would die on a nondescript, frozen-over battlefield, no one to send them off to Valhalla.

“I know you’re stressed, my darling,” Loki breathed, “but you did make the right decision.” His deep green eyes found your chocolate brown ones, full of love and sympathy. “I suppose I never warned you of how much it could hurt… making decisions for a whole nation of people.”

You shook your head. “No… I suppose I didn’t know how many enemies we had. How much they wanted to get their hands on our vaults.”

His face fell to the floor, knowing he couldn’t exactly say something to make all the hurt go away. He knew how much you loved the Asgardian people, your newfound people. And knowing some of them might die… He quickly fell back into his head, as he was quite likely to do. But you knew him completely. You knew his thoughts, his doubts. His thoughts of thinking he wasn’t good enough to rule Asgard, not good enough to rule beside his Mortal Queen, not good enough to love his queen and receive love in turn. You wouldn’t let him fall back into those doubts.

“There is one thing you could do to relieve my stress, pet,” you quipped, giving him a small smirk. While you would maintain your composure at almost all times, the love in your eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

His back straightened on his throne, his eyes slowly finding yours. “Anything,” he said, not much more than a breathless whisper at the sound of one of his favorite nicknames you gave him.

“Get on your knees.”

Loki was wearing his Asgardian leathers, and you also fell into traditional Asgardian fashions, a small blue cape adorning your shoulders to honor your favorite element, with small green accents to honor Loki, only going down to your mid-back. Beyond that, you had a white jumpsuit on and white boots, streaked with even more green.

Before you could blink, Loki was at your feet, his knees on the ground and his back perfectly arched like the good boy he was. “M-My queen.”

Many people would probably guess he was a brat, and you a brat tamer, of which you both could absolutely be, but the gods-honest truth was that he loved serving you in all ways. It got him off. It made his cock twitch. And seeing him on his knees for you made you wet. Something about his willingly submissive nature towards you and only you made you want to make him beg.

“Oh, sweet boy,” you teased with a chuckle, “you’re so ready for me.” Even with all the doom and gloom, you knew that throughout the meeting when he looked at you, he was imagining just this. You placed a boot on his shoulder, contemplating just what you had in store for him. “What shall I do with you?”

The guards were still at the doors, which undoubtedly made Loki more excited, knowing his personal guards knew how much he served his queen.

“Leave us,” you commanded.

As they gave a curt nod and exited with a bow, the doors closed with a loud thud and you gave another smirk. “I know you like it when they watch, my little prince,” you mused, gazing into those wanting eyes.

In turn, he gave a small whimper and bowed his head.

“Unclasp my cape,” you ordered.

His hands scrambled onto your body, feeling on you until he reached your cape, unhooking the small golden buttons with his fingers. “P-Please let me touch you. Please.”

A small, almost nonexistent golden zipper ran down your white jumpsuit, and as you unzipped yourself, you pushed him back onto his kneeling stance. “Touch me?” you teased, his mouth falling open as he realized you didn’t have anything underneath your clothes. Your body lay more than halfway exposed, his eyes going directly to your breasts.

“Touch… these?” You grabbed your tits, pushing them together and twisting your nipples in-between your two fingers. You gave a little moan, spreading your legs so he could see how you glistened.

He knew to stay put. To stay absolutely still until you said otherwise, because he was such a good boy for you. Because he had seen how you enjoyed punishing him so much the last time he dared to touch you without permission, spanking him and not letting him cum for days at a time until he begged for release. The ways in which you punish him each time he disobeys got more creative.

“Now, who’s my good boy?”

“Me! I-I am! I promise, just please let me-”

You grabbed his wrist, pushing his face into yours, letting his lips fall onto yours. As the two of you kissed, you grabbed his throat and pushed him towards your body, making his hands grab your thighs. “Touch me,” you breathed.

He went to work on your body, squeezing your thick thighs, going up to your equally thick torso, cupping your breasts. You could feel his breath hitching. As your tongue flipped over his, you used your powers to slip off his pants, revealing the feminine underwear he had on that you commanded he always wear.

“Up.”

At once, he jumped up and let you survey his body, a small pout on his lips from the ghost of touch he felt. You felt it too, but you’d never reveal that. In times like these, you’d never let him know just how much you needed his fingers against your body.

“Take your shirt off.”

He quickly stripped down, all but his underwear, as you hadn’t ordered him to do so. And he knew how much you liked looking at his cock straining the thin fabric, of his ass popping out of the cheeky, lacy underwear. Loki bit his lip, waiting for you to instruct him further. Needing you to tell him what to do, even yearning for it.

“Such a good little prince,” you observed, putting one finger on the lacy underthings and pulling them down, his rather heavy cock immediately popping out and standing to attention. “And an excited one, hm?”

You finally arose from your throne of crystal sapphire, walking behind and fetching a black collar. “Is this what you want?”

He suddenly was unable to speak, only nodding without abandon, knowing the collar was a special treat you only gave to him when he was extra obedient. You let out a chuckle, placing it around his neck until you heard a click. With any other collar, he might be able to unlock it, but not this one. You had specifically trained with the most experienced of magical designers and created this yourself. Only could you unlock it, and that’s why it excited him so much.

You sat back down upon your sapphire throne, abandoning your jumpsuit and spreading your legs, placing them on Loki’s back, pushing him to your pussy. “Make your mommy feel good.”

His tongue immediately got to work, spreading over your glistening folds and lapping at your clit. As soon as he started moaning, you knew you were done for. The vibrations were already sending you over the edge, and as you groaned, you grabbed a handful of his black curly hair quite roughly, which only made matters worse for him.

He scooted even closer to you, slowly pushing a finger into you. As his fingers pumped into you, you gripped one arm on your chair, the other holding his hair tightly. Not only was he pumping into you, adding another finger, but he curled them, knowing exactly where your g-spot was. “My love-” you moaned, “Fuck!”

His tongue worked away from your clit, obviously wanting to taste you for longer. He stroked your pussy with his tongue, up and down, up and down, which caused you to wriggle around in his mouth. You could hear nothing but moans from him, his tongue diving deep in your hole.

Unable to stand it any longer, you gave him an order. “My clit, now. Make me cum.” You could only hold your composure for so much longer.

You could feel the disobedience thrumming off of him, wanting his tongue inside you for as long as he could. His tongue entered your hole again and in response, you dug your boots into his back and he let out a small cry of pleasure. “Now!”

He immediately realized his mistake, his place, and his tongue started making circles around your clit slowly. “Ah, fuck, Loki!” you gasped. “Make your queen cum, make your mommy cu-” Your body pulsed with pleasure, digging your boots into him even more. As you tried to escape your orgasm, his hands found your thighs and his tongue kept your pleasure in place, making you dizzy as your orgasm reached its height and your hips bucked against his soft lips.

As you came down, your hand wrapped around Loki’s beautiful curls once again, snapping his head up to look at you. You surveyed his beautiful face, his chin dripping with your juices. His tongue licked his lips, and you pressed your mouth to him, your tongue circling his, tasting yourself.

Your hand moved down to his waist, moving him to your lap and pressing him against your chest. “Sweetie?” you grabbed his face, looking into his eyes and putting on the sweetest smile you could muster. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His eyes widened slightly, his cock pressing against you as he made little movements, needing to feel your touch. “Mommy,” he begged. “Please. I’ll do anything, just please touch me.”

Your firm hand gripped his cock tightly. “Like this? Is this what my sweet boy wants?”

He started nodding, his mouth opening slightly as his eyes dug into yours. “B-But I…”

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be inside you!” The words almost came out like one, and you gripped the edge of his collar, getting up from the throne and dragging him just beyond the throne room, upstairs to both of your chambers.

As you dragged him above, you glanced at his blushed face, loving the fact that you had total control of him, body and soul. He was yours, and there was no denying that. In that moment and all moments forward, he’d do anything you told him to do.

You both entered your rooms, clad in black and white marble, huge statues of jade and sapphire separating the bedchambers, living spaces, and kitchen. With a stroke of your hand, the candles and fires lit at once, illuminating his face as you pushed him against the stone wall and started teasing the head of his cock.

With a touch of your finger, the collar fell to the floor and before he could start pouting, you pressed your hand against his throat. He gave a smile completely fueled by pleasure, his form slacking against the wall as your hand moved to stroke him. “Tell me what you want again.”

“I want….. I want…. Inside of you,” he whimpered, writhing against your hand.

“And should I let you cum tonight?”

“Yes! Please!” His blush went deep red, his eyes snaking over your form, landing at your drenched pussy, moving his eyes just for a moment at your hardened nipples.

“Please what?” Your face was one of hardened stone, minutes away from bending him over and punishing him until he cried if he didn’t call you by your proper name in the next five seconds.

“Please my queen! Fuck me!”

You gripped his throat even harder, moving him over to the bed lined with silk sheets and white covers. You threw him onto it, flipping him over to appreciate his ass. You gripped it hard, giving it a little spank. You simply couldn’t help yourself, and you made a mental side note to fuck it later until he was whimpering under your weight.

You flipped him over once more, straddling his perfect thighs and placing his hands on your tits. “Squeeze my nipples, my little prince.”

Of course he did as he was told and his hands sent shocks through your body. You moved his knee up, slowly grinding your clit against it. You bit your lip, letting out a little moan as he continued to palm your breasts. “I love you, sweet boy. I love you so much.”

“I love you more tha-'' before he could get the words completely out, you softly pressed your lips to his, nothing like the desperate kiss only minutes before. This time, it was tender, it was soft, but it also contained all the words you wanted to say.

I love you.

I’d do anything for you.

I’d kill for you.

I’d die for you.

As you pulled away, you gripped his hard cock and slowly lowered yourself onto him, promoting a loud moan from his lips. “Does this feel good, baby?”

His head tilted back, grabbing your thighs tightly enough to leave marks. You’d let him. If anyone was to see, it would only be further proof you owned each other. And the bruises around his neck would be proof you especially owned him. He could conceal them with magic, but he wouldn’t. During council meetings and social gatherings, he’d press against them so he could feel what you did to him the previous night.

Before he could get his answer out, you slowly started riding him, almost teasing him. In response, he fingers teased your nipples, twisting and rubbing them slowly. You reached his full length, and realized you probably weren’t going to keep your calmness for much longer.

You leaned your body completely against his, wrapping your arms around him and riding him with abandon. “You’re a fucking goddess- you’re - you’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he breathlessly remarked.

His length completely filled you up, and as always, was stretching you out. Sometimes you thought you couldn’t handle it, but eventually you regained your control and pressed your hands around him, enveloping him to completion. You bounced back and forth on his dick, crying out in unison with him, already on the brink. You were pulsing against his thickness, but you didn’t want to cum just yet, if only to tell him not to.

“Goddess, can I?” At this point, his words were just sounds and you didn’t know if you could reply without moaning your words out.

“Can you what?” you let out.

“Can I cum?  Please?” The last word was just a plea, and you knew he’d do anything just to cum, to release inside of you and have you dripping with his cum.

“Yes, that’s what you want. You want me to cum against your cock and make me leak with your cum. Tell me that’s what you want,” you growled.

“Yes! That’s what I want!” he started, thrusting with you as if he couldn’t handle it anymore. “I want you fill you up, I want my cum all over your thighs, I want-”

“Cum for me!”

At those words, you both cried out as you slammed his shoulders onto the bed, bouncing up and down and taking both your orgasm and his.

The orgasm you had previously was nothing compared to this. You were all filled up, cumming against his cock without abandon. You could feel him shooting inside of you, you could see his hands ripping at the bedsheets as he moaned in pleasure, which only built the orgasm, stars exploding in your eyes.

You both were breathless, panting against each other's bodies. For a minute, you couldn’t move, the pleasure finally ebbing from your body, but then Loki was flipped on top of you, stroking his dark curls and kissing his forehead.

You could feel how tired he was, how tired you made him, and you commanded the collar back to your hand, locking it against his throat. “Thank you,” he said, biting his lip and looking into your eyes.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

“I love you more than words could possibly say.”

[fire-lady-ilah]

I would be fascinated in any ideas you had about how the hunt for Aang would go with 'good parent Ozai' AU!

Ask and ye shall receive! (@tiktokonaclock, here’s that part two you asked about). This continues from where I left off in part 1.

At first, Ozai says no. He has good reason to do so, Zuko is the Crown Prince, should he and Azula die then he will be heirless— he doesn’t know if Ursa would be able to bear another child, nor does he wish for another. In a less logical way, his mind protests because that is his son. Sixteen, yes, but still very much a child. That isn’t even the age of conscription.

He knows that the Avatar is a child, Commander Zhao’s report said that he appeared to be twelve, travelling with two other children that were closer to Azula’s age. He knows that his children make a formidable pair, he has no doubt that, together, they could be able to take on entire battalions of soldiers.

They are his children and they are Ursa’s children. How could he just let them go out to face an enemy such as the Avatar?

Zuko has Ozai’s charisma and awkwardness (as they come together, though few remember the way the Fire Lord used to stumble over his words as a teenager). Zuko looks so much like his father that sometimes older servants even refer to him by his name. But Zuko is equal parts his mother. He has his mother’s kinder nature, and he has her drive. Ursa’s persistence is one of the only reasons the Fire Nation is flourishing as it is now. Ozai knows that it had been suffering near the end of his father’s rule, he knows that he is an amazing military leader, just as he knows that it is better to leave his wife in charge of the majority of domestic policies.

It is that persistence combined with Azula’s carefully crafted wording that she also got from her mother that makes both Ozai and Ursa cave and give permission for their children to hunt the Avatar. Sometimes, Ozai wonders if his life would be easier if he didn’t love his family so much.

Zuko and Azula leave the Fire Nation together. Zuko is sixteen and looks the very image of a Crown Prince, even if a few hairs escape his top knot and fall across his face. Azula is fourteen and looks every bit the Princess she is. A single hair escapes it’s place and she leaves it be. She would not dare call attention to imperfections, just as Ozai himself wouldn’t. He is full of pride as he watches his children board the ship (the second newest design, as advanced as possible while having already been tested. He would not let untested technology take his children from him permanently). Captain Jee stands on the deck, greeting them. Apparently he had been demoted from his position at some point for assaulting an Admiral.

(He remembers the day he discovered the Captain’s existence well. Zuko had been eleven and helping him look over military documentation that had been sent to him to approve. One of such documents had been Jee’s demotion to lieutenant.

“I remember him. He was Lu Ten’s friend.” He heard his son mumble as he touched the included portrait of Jee. Closer examination showed that it had been drawn by his nephew himself. His son had loved his cousin, and he was not against doing things to make him happy. If Jee was loyal to Lu Ten, it only meant he would be more likely to be loyal to Zuko.

“I will have him transferred to the palace guard.”)

He proved to be honourable in the guard and had quickly been promoted back to captain after Ozai heard the true reasoning of the assault through Zuko’s horrified voice. He himself cared little for the affairs of military officers, but if it made his son happy to sign the papers for the Admiral’s dishonourable discharge and imprisonment, so be it.

That action had only solidified Jee’s loyalty to his son (and by extension, his daughter).

Now, I’m conflicted on whether or not Iroh would go with them. I’m leaning toward yes. Neither of them have been hurt by their father, but Zuko is still the most naturally kindhearted person in the royal family and he is destined to be Fire Lord. Azula has more empathy than she does in canon (although that’s not saying much), I doubt Iroh would comment that she’s “crazy and needs to go down”. After all, Ozai loves both his children here. That means that he doesn’t intentionally harm their mental health, nor does he encourage competition between them. They both want to make both their parents proud. If nothing else, Iroh would go with them so that he could stop them.

Thus, shortly after the Crown Prince and Princess of the Fire Nation step onto the ship, the Dragon of the West follows. It is filled with the best of the Fire Nation to seek the only bender of all four elements.

A stark contrast to canon, no?

The hunt progresses somewhat like in canon, though not. Lo and Li instruct further Zuko and Azula in lightning bending.

(“Only a hair out of place, Princess Azula.”

“That means I shall achieve perfection soon.”)

Iroh takes over his nephew and niece’s firebending training, though Azula is a master in her own right and Zuko is nearly a master as well. He forces them back to their basics.

Zuko yells and stomps and Iroh is reminded of his brother at the same age, back before his brother became the monster he is now. The same brother he sees glimpses of when Ozai is alone with his wife and children, the same brother that he sees none of in the Fire Lord. Azula is silent and moves to do her basics without complaint. She unnerves him, but he still loves her.

He loves them both. And he loves what remains of his brother in Ozai, even if he would choose the balance of the world over the Fire Lord in an instant.

They visit Admiral Zhao first. He declares that he has already captured the Avatar and that he would be more than willing to transfer his prisoner onto the royal family’s better equipped ship.

The siblings visit the chained Avatar. Zhao speaks of what he plans to do.

That is the thing about Ozai loving his children. Loving them means protecting them from certain cruelties, at least more than he did in canon. Zuko and Azula both see the Avatar, only twelve, and Zhao’s words overlap with Azulon’s orders to their father when Lu Ten dies. After all, Zuko had been only a year younger then.

That night, the Blue Spirit and the Dragon Emperor break the Avatar out of the stronghold with dual dao and twin daggers as the Prince and Princess sleep in their luxurious cabins. If that isn’t completely the truth, no one says anything to suggest as such. The Blue Spirit is knocked out by an arrow to the forehead. The Dragon Emperor does not allow the Avatar to remove the mask.

(“How did you not see that coming, Zuzu?”

“In my defence, you were supposed to be watching my back while I pulled the Avatar away.”)

They meet the Avatar’s companions briefly before the Emperor gestures to the rising sun and they disappear.

It is only after the escape of the Avatar that Iroh begins to consider the siblings further.

They pen a letter to their father.

Ozai reads between the lines and wonders, just once, if perhaps he had sheltered his children from the reality of war too much. He does not wonder again because he knows the alternative would have been far worse.

Instead, Ozai speaks with his wife. Ursa is a complex woman, but the Avatar is the reincarnation of her grandfather and she has an actress’s mind (and thus she has a politician’s mind).

As their children chase the Avatar, the Fire Lord and Lady put their own plan into motion. Canon Ozai may be content to lay all responsibility on his children, but this Ozai is actually a decent dad.

The siblings are free to enter Fire Nation territory as they wish and have no reason to sneak into the temple, even still they do. They watch as a Fire Sage, one of the highest religious authorities in the Fire Nation, disobeys the Fire Lord to help the Avatar.

Zuko’s quick fingers undo the water tribe boy’s restraints as Azula’s undo the girl’s. They share playful smirks, after all, neither of them are in any danger. They are a powerful team and they have their father’s unwavering support.

(“Why did you just untie us?”

“Zhao’s a dick.”)

Avatar Roku emerges in place of Avatar Aang. He pauses in front of the children, the girl that has Rina’s smile, the boy that has her hair (his own hair), always trying to escape from its confines.

They do not waver. They do, however, run when the Avatar begins to destroy the temple.

The siblings believe the Fire Nation is the greatest in the world. They believe that it is their duty to spread their glory to the other nations. But, late at night, taking tea together, they consider that perhaps Fire Lord Sozin went about it in the wrong way.

(Great-grandfather says hi, Ursa reads aloud from their children’s letter. Not for the first time, Ozai regrets sending his children on such a dangerous mission. He knew that Avatar Roku had been spotted on Crescent Island, he knew that he had blown up the temple. How close had his children come to being blown up?)

The Avatar sets course for Omashu. The siblings make a stop in the Fire Nation while they’re nearby. They have a friend to pick up.

Parts: [1] [3] [4]

[batmurdock]

some unspoken thing [starnovamora]

for @murdockquills & @novasforce, who introduced me to cosmic marvel - thanks for letting me hitchhike in your milano to the triumphant finish line.

--

Love was a weakness. 

That was what she’d always been taught. Love was something that made men fall apart, brought kingdoms down, watered intent to nothing, and dulled the blades of a half-decent assassin. 

Relationships, if they could be called that, were just other weapons to wield. Gamora knew the best grooves to press to make people fall apart — good ways and bad. She had no qualms about using those points of access to her advantage, either. 

Like now, lying here, between two men on whom she and everyone else staked the hopes of the universe, Gamora knew best how to kill them — or give them, as Peter called it, “la petty more”, which Gamora was fairly certain wasn’t the right phrase, but who was she to argue with someone she— 

Cared for. 

It was still hard to say it. Love came easier to Peter, to Richard, than it ever would for Gamora Zen-Whoberi Ben Titan. She’d believed that for many years as she ran her knives together; sharpened their edges, honed her own. She had watched them haunt each other; two ghosts orbiting an empty galaxy, and waited for them to come into alignment together. 

Because she knew how to press. And she knew when to pull back. 

It had been a few hours since they’d left the party. Her skin still glowed from the last release, mossy; warm and flushed. The ceiling overhead had a glass pane through which she could see the tall peaks and spires of buildings in the distance — but it also magnified the stars beyond. 

Idly, agate fingers stroked flaxen hair, Peter dozing off; undignified and utterly beautiful against her stomach. Beside her opposite, his arm wound around Peter and Gamora both, Richard mumbled something about needing to check the scanners. He lolled his head back with a dazed and hazy little smile, and Gamora felt everything inside of her soften. 

To a dulled blade. 

Was that such a bad thing? 

It hadn’t occurred to her that she could be anything other than the one to kill. The vibe, the men, anything else. She was designed to finish things. To tactically strategize exits in the form of eviscerations. If she wanted to, while they slept or dipped into the happy lull of the Lovers reunited, Gamora could’ve ended it. Snuffed out the sun, smothered the light. She knew, after all, their every flaw.

But love was, as it turned out, their greatest strength. 

It could stay the hand of a murderer. Peter’s pleading expressions when she felt far away; when the Stones called out to her, or when memories of her so-called father kept her icy and isolated. Rich relenting long enough to lie in bed beside her for ten extra minutes when the universe was once again on the brink of destruction.

Just some unspoken thing.

She realized, more or less, that they’d said it of one another. Two war heroes nursing their wounds and afraid to show one another their scars for fear of…what, exactly? Oh right. Weakness, she supposed. 

But love brought Peter Quill home. Love brought Richard Rider back. And love — 

Love made the Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy want to finally, maybe, change careers. 

To encourage life. And growth. And — she wasn’t sure what else. Her father waxed poetic about gardens. Gamora’s were just yards littered with bones piled high toward the heavens. But whatever it was, growth, or garden, or the opportunity to simply keep going - all Gamora knew was that she wanted more. 

“I love you,” she said, quietly. Finally. She whipped that knife out of its hilt and brandished it with a simple flick of her tongue. 

It didn’t hurt. 

Her fingers threaded through Peter’s golden tresses, traced lines across Richard’s back. The stars twinkled down through the skylight, the city lavender and indigo above them, slowly being swallowed by the faintest of fogs. But no need to venture outside. No need to go beyond this room. 

Everything they had was within reach. Not power, not violence — but the tender way in which Peter stretched and squeaked faintly, in which Richard groggily yawned and shoved his head a little more into Gamora’s shoulder like a burrowing thing. She smiled to herself, arms still wound around her boys, and exhaled at last. 

She had grieved them. Together. Separately. She had cursed herself for not trying harder. Being or doing or saying more. Seeing them spiral, watching them die or disappear — helpless to stop any of it, anything at all — 

But here they were. Peter, grinning up at her, beardy and golden as a blazing sun, bare and shining. He glowed a little when he wasn’t thinking about it, sometimes — not unlike how when he went down on Rich, Rich tended to blue blaze to life himself.

How strange, even still, to think of herself as anything other than a black hole that devoured life with the swing of her sword, the firing of a gun. Total decimation shouldn’t have a chance at something more.

But as Gamora had seen the face of Death, she had seen that of Life.

That face had slept beside her, or was peering up at her now. Surrounded by the softness of it, Gamora thought not of how hard she swung her sword, nor the force with which she once kicked a Brood back into its crumbling nest so hard the entirety of it imploded. No - strength, at times, was a tenderness - notching an arrow just so, keeping your grip just loose enough. 

You couldn’t hold too tight to things like Peter, for example. Just enough. Couldn’t push Rich too far, or he’d just refuse to come back down. In her own way, she’d been trying all along to reel them in - to get them to realize something she, too, was only just starting to realize herself.

Peter was wriggling upright reluctantly as Rich slouched closer, his hand catching Peter’s cheek in a soft grip. They kissed over her, and Gamora almost laughed. 

“Oh, that’s fine, don’t mind me--”

“I’m starving,” Peter exclaimed as they broke apart, eagerly looking between each of his loves. “What’s around that’s open?”

“Everything,” Rich laughed. “Anything. I think we were promised free takeout for life.”

“Pretty sure no one said that,” Gamora mock-frowned. It was easy to fall back into this - as Peter smooched her stomach and [to her horror] made her scrunch into a baffled little ball, which made Rich throw his head back and laugh - 

This was their love.

This was their world.

This was not a sword, but a shield. Not a gun, but armor. Or perhaps all of them were the bullet - she the sighted rifle, Rich the force behind it, and Peter the hand to pull the trigger of the galaxy’s greatest power.

“Let’s get room service,” Gamora murmured, and, stretching, rolled over slightly to grab the nearest communicator. Peter’s lips graced her shoulder, and Rich lounged against Peter’s back, snuggling in again. His hand found her hip, tracing silvery lines where parts of her weren’t - human.

But all of her was, with them.

And all of this was love.

Strong enough to see them through to the not-so-bitter end.

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 11

“Don’t speak for me, Duarte,” Cardan says.

“Don’t boss me around.”

Previous

Read chapter 11 on AO3 or read below:

“But, just, if I had the choice,” I say, “I would rather be apart from society.”

We’ve gone around and around a few different points by now. The latest one is the Ghost reminding me that, since betas are one in a thousand, there are only three hundred thousand in the United States, which is less than the population of Wyoming, and I don’t know anyone from Wyoming. They can and do seek each other out, but in a lot of ways, chemical and social, they’re separated from everyone else.

“Would you?” asks the Ghost.

“Well…” I trail off, thinking of the Bomb and the Roach and how they, very possibly, endured de-designation one way or another. I don’t think that’s something I want for myself, not seriously. Sure, I could do without all the complications of heat, but would I like to go through life with dulled senses, knowing most of the population was experiencing something I never would?

The problem isn’t really that I hate being an omega, it’s that I spent my whole life watching alphas, surviving alphas. Wishing I had what they had.

I look at Cardan, who’s been preoccupied with picking at dirt under his fingernails this entire time. He wears a mask of boredom. I know he’s listening, though. He’s good at playing dumb.

“I want to be like them,” I hear myself say. “No, I want to be better than them. That’s all. That’s what it is. And how am I supposed to be better when I’m—” I gesture at myself. I know I look better now than I did before, but I am far from my peak.

Regarding me steadily, the Ghost says, “There’s power in what you are right now, you know. There’s power in driving people crazy for you. A well-placed omega can ruin a political negotiation, a business merger, a marriage. Start wars.”

“Helen of Troy,” I interject. We all know how that went. “That’s soft power. But I don’t want—want…”

I shiver in my chair and hug my arms to my chest. Cardan’s voice is dark and low when he says, “I don’t think she’s up for this discussion.”

The Ghost gives him an odd look, and I say, “No, I’m fine. It’s fine.” I quash down panic; the meds shouldn’t be wearing off this soon, but there’s nothing I can do about it. “I don’t want soft power. I want to be taken seriously.”

“Well, you got us to take you pretty seriously,” the Ghost replies. “Cardan takes you seriously.”

I snort. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Don’t speak for me, Duarte,” Cardan says.

“Don’t boss me around.”

“I think that when you get to college, or at least out into the real world, you’ll find it’s very different,” the Ghost continues.

“I live in the real world,” I retort.

“No, you live in a bubble. A rich person bubble. When there aren’t as many expectations—when there are just normal people—alphas and omegas don’t have as much trouble with each other.”

I press my lips together so I can’t remind him that my mom married an alpha and it didn’t exactly end well. “But systems of oppression still exist. How many omega presidents have we had?”

The Ghost holds up a hand. “We’ve been over this. I’m not saying they don’t.” He pauses. “It wasn’t a kind thing Madoc did, sending you to Insmire.”

I blink at him. “How did you know—”

“Well, we did have to do our research on you.” He presses his lips together. “Cardan said you went to school together.”

“Oh, right.” I feel foolish, and also defensive. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan pick up his head. “Well, Madoc isn’t kind. I mean, he can be, but—he isn’t.”

“No,” the Ghost agrees. “If he was kind, he would have sent you to the best multi-designation or omega prep school there was. But he didn’t let you have it easy. From what I know of him, he wanted to teach you to fight, on all fronts. And from where I’m sitting, it worked. I bet your sister isn’t a pushover either. Your twin?”

I almost laugh, thinking about Taryn fistfighting anyone. But I guess we did both learn to lie pretty well. I shrug my shoulders.

“You’ve had the worst of it in high school with entitled rich kids. The real world is more balanced, and you’re more than ready for it.” He pauses. “And there is one more thing, but I don’t think you’ll appreciate me saying it.”

“Go on.”

“Mating.”

Cardan makes a choked sound.

“I don’t mean sex,” the Ghost says, with a glance at him. “I mean finding a mate. It’s something I’ve thought about, as someone who can’t have it. Sure, betas get to fall in love like everyone else, but we don’t get to have that… connection. That belonging.”

Neither Cardan nor I speak for a moment. We are both too busy looking at the ground. “It’s a lot of pressure,” I say slowly. “What if you pick the wrong person? How do you know?”

“You might.” The Ghost sits back in his chair, seeming to retreat back into himself. I have the feeling this is the most he’s spoken in one go for a long time. Then he says, “But what if you pick the right one?”

I open my mouth to reply when I am hit by another full-body shiver, and then my cramps return with a vengeance. I whimper and wrap my arms around my abdomen. “Ow.”

“She’s getting worse.” It’s Cardan who says it. He sounds newly panicked. “You have to help her. I can’t do it.”

The Ghost raises his eyebrows. “It’s okay for me to help her now?”

“Yeah, well, you were doing alright, keeping her distracted, so I guess you’re ready for more responsibility.”

I blink up at the Ghost, who’s already standing from his chair. “You were distracting me? How long has it been?”

“A good couple of hours. You like to argue.” He helps me out of my seat. “He’s not as stupid as he looks, is he?”

“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “No, he isn’t.” Standing takes most of my concentration, but I look back over my shoulder at Cardan, who’s rigid like he’s grown roots. His hands have a white-knuckled grip on the side of the chair. He nods at me, and I nod back at him and let the Ghost lead me away.

The door to our cell-room had been left open while we were talking around the table, so it’s no longer as stuffy. I let out a groan of relief when I sink down onto the mattress. My gross, terrible mattress. My itchy blankets. I am so happy to be back in a visceral way that I don’t quite understand. Because it’s my “nest,” I guess. I want to wrap myself up in the blankets and curl up in a little ball, but the Ghost is still standing here.

“We have to lock Cardan in with you at night,” he says quietly. He sounds apologetic. “Especially if it’s only me on watch. There won’t always be eyes on him.”

I shrug. “He hates me. I’ll be fine.”

The Ghost’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“Oh, what?” I scoff. “You’re taking your eyes off him right now.”

“Yeah, because I can feel his eyes boring holes in my shirt.”

I snicker. I have decided that as far as people who’ve shot me go, the Ghost really isn’t so bad. “Hey,” I begin, wincing through another cramp, determined to keep distracting myself. “Why are you doing this? The Bomb said she’s sticking with whoever you work for because she owes them. Same for you?”

“No,” he says flatly. “I’m too far in to get out.”

“That can’t be true. I mean, if you go to the police, bargain for immunity in exchange for testimony…”

He gives me a dour look that says I’m being incredibly naive. “Ask me whose house this was.”

I blink at him, wondering if the connection should be obvious and the fever is slowing down my brain. “Whose house… was it?”

“It was being built as a weekend home for someone’s mistress. It was never finished.”

“Why? What happened to her?”

He looks me over, withdrawing further into himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get you more medicine. You should rest. The second half is going to be harder than the first.”

“It is?” I ask, my voice sounding small and pathetic, but he has already left.

---

I don’t remember much about the next twenty-four hours. Just flashes, impressions, snippets of conversation. People are in and out of the room, making sure my water bottle is full, replacing it if it isn’t, giving me pills, for all the good they do. At first it’s the Ghost, but eventually it’s the Bomb, which means she’s come back. My ears, straining to pick out Cardan’s voice through the closed door, hear the Roach’s laugh, so he’s returned too.

It’s a bad day. It doesn’t take me long to sweat right through my dress, and it takes even less time for my shorts to soak through. The medicine can’t keep my temperature in check anymore, only drive it down to a balmy one hundred. I am miserable, and I am bored. There is nothing for me to do but stare at the wall, and even if there were, I probably couldn’t focus on it. My head feels like it’s being weighed down by a bag of rocks. The only thing that seems fully awake and alive is my libido, spiky and insistent. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this sick and this aroused. Masturbation doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

I am aware of Cardan coming back into the room, hours later. I am aware of his footsteps on the floor, the sound of him sitting heavily on the floor. I get a fresh waft of lavender; he showered again before coming in. Even though I had been dozing and wish again to be unconscious, I do pick up my head to look at him.

“Hi,” I say.

He raises one hand in greeting. “Hey.” He looks less like himself than ever, pale and drawn and wilting, and his brows are drawn. But he’s still handsome. Even the paleness benefits him, setting off his dark hair. Like a vampire. I have the urge to press my mouth to the column of his neck again.

Instead, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Aside from everything?” Cardan sighs. “I don’t know. The Bomb and the Roach came back, but something is weird. They wouldn’t talk about it in front of me.”

“Oh,” I say. That should mean something to me, but it doesn’t right now. I can’t fit the pieces together.

He sighs again, a longer sigh this time. “And I’m feeling like a pretty shitty alpha,” he says.

“Why?” I ask, drawing my knees in tighter to my chest. “Because you haven’t boned me yet?”

Another strangled noise escapes him. I’m getting used to those little squawks. “One, never say ‘boned’ again. And two, no.” He sounds sullen. He rakes his hand through his hair. “Because I’m not taking care of you.”

My brain short-circuits. “What?”

“I talked to the Roach about it.” He pauses. “I mean… if we were paired up, if we were doing this on purpose, it should be me. I should be helping you. Instead I have to let other people do it.”

“But we’re not paired up, and that is taking care of me. In these circumstances…”

I trail off, and he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It sucks,” I say, as if agreeing with him. “And it’s—I’m just scared.”

He tsks, tossing his hair out of his face. “Nothing scares you.”

I pull the blankets tighter around my shoulders. “That’s not true. I’m scared all the time. It’s why I’m so angry at everything, everyone. At myself.”

Cardan is quiet for a moment, then says, “I guess I get that.”

I wonder if he does. There is a lot I still don’t know about Cardan. “If the last year has shown me anything, it’s that I can’t control anybody else’s behavior. Locke. Taryn. Valerian.” I shift. “Just me. It’s just me. I’m the only thing in my control.”

He smiles, weakly. “Slow down, Hamilton.”

“It’s Burr. And that’s not the lyric.”

“Whatever. Nerd.”

My own smile is transient. “Anyway, now I’m not even in my control. Now I have to be afraid of myself. So that… it just sucks.”

“Yeah.” After another stretch of silence, Cardan asks, “Are you afraid of me?”

I don’t answer him right away. Because the answer, of course, is yes. Yes, I have been afraid of him for such a long time. Yes, I am afraid of what he represents, the power and the system set against me. Yes, I am afraid of the way he affects me, the things I want to do, the vulnerability in me.

But the answer, in some strange way, as we have languished in our cell, has also become no.

“I,” I begin, but then there is another urgent cramp, another painful jolt of arousal on its heels, and I groan. “Oh, god.”

Cardan’s eyes widen in alarm. “You don’t have to answer that,” he says quickly. “Just… just relax. Just chill. I’ll stay over here.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I manage through gritted teeth, clutching my stomach. It is, of course, worse.

Trying to get comfortable, I toss and turn for ages, but I must fall asleep through the pain because the next thing I know, Cardan is gone again, and I am holding a scrap of soft cloth in my arms. On instinct, I bring it to my nose. It smells like Cardan, that musky smell he’s taken on in the last couple of days. Warmth bursts in my chests like a firework. It’s his shirt. He left his shirt with me. What is he wearing now?

It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I nuzzle the fabric. It is not exactly soft, a little grimy from lack of washing, but saturated with his scent. I am amazed at how my brain calms just from this one, simple thing. My horniness problem is not solved, though, so I slide my hand into my shorts to take care of it, my face still pressed to Cardan’s shirt. It muffles my cries when I come, but I’m honestly too far gone to care if I am heard. After I am finished, I wriggle out of my dress, pull the shirt over my head, and promptly fall back asleep.

I doze fitfully. Someone comes to replace the water bottle, which briefly wakes me long enough that I roll around for a few minutes before I’m out again. I don’t mind that the mattress is lumpy or that the blankets scratch my skin; whenever something begins to bother me too much, I stick my nose in the collar of Cardan’s shirt and breathe in, which is usually enough to soothe me.

I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming or awake when I feel someone press the bottle to my lips and say, “Drink, Jude.” It sounds like the Roach, or maybe Madoc. I open my mouth and manage a couple of swallows of water before putting my head back down and dragging the blankets up over my shoulders.

“Is she still asleep?” I hear Cardan ask. His voice is hushed. The smell of him doesn’t bother me so much now that I have his shirt, but I do scent him and groan softly, pressing my face into the pillow.

“Mostly,” says probably-the-Roach.

There’s a pause, then Cardan asks, “Can I do it?”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, but I want to help.” Something shuffles, like he’s kicked at the floor. “She’s only like this because of me.”

The Roach sighs, then says, “All right. Come over, but be careful.”

I hear Cardan’s footsteps on the floor, and then a hand pushes some of my hair off of my sweaty face, dragging down to skim my cheek. I lean into his hand. It feels so good to be touched.

“Jude, hey,” he says quietly. “Can you pick your head up a little higher for me?”

There’s something beneath his voice, a dark undertow that pulls me down. I find that I want to do what he says, which isn’t a remotely comforting thought. But I pick up my head, and he keeps one hand against my jaw as he tips the jug against my mouth. A little water trickles down my neck, wetting the shirt he lent me, but I swallow most of it down.

“That’s good.” He takes the jug away and sets it back down on the floor. I can hear the strain in his words, like he’s fighting with himself. “Really good.”

His hand finds my hair again, and I would do anything for him to just keep running his fingers through it, but then the Roach says, “I think that’s enough.”

Cardan disentangles his fingers from my hair and stands; I hear him step back. “It’s just so weird,” he says. “It’s weird to see her like this. She hates—she never asks for help. I’ve never seen her vulnerable.”

“Well, her body’s treating it like a sickness,” the Roach says. “But we’re looking out for her. Another, what, day or so? Less than a day? And she should be free and clear. And hopefully by then this will all be over and we can let you guys out.”

“Yeah.” There’s a pause, and then, “Thanks.”

The Roach chuckles. “Don’t thank me, kid. We kidnapped you.”

“I know, but.” Cardan hesitates. “Is it weird that in some ways I’d rather be here than home?”

“Pretty weird, yeah.”

“Yeah.” Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he asks, “Jude?”

I say nothing, do nothing. I want to keep eavesdropping. He wouldn’t be saying half of this if he thought I was awake. So I keep my breathing low and even, and let him say what he wants.

But he says nothing, and for a second I think he’s getting ready to leave me alone again. Then I hear him take a step—toward me—and his hand is briefly back in my hair. I feel warm lips against my forehead, soft and fleeting like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. I have to fight my every instinct not to lean up into the kiss and give myself away, but then his hand and lips are both gone. I hear the quick retreat of his footsteps, the closing of the door.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper to the empty cell. “You can’t just leave me with that.”

But he can, and he did, because he assumed I was asleep. He left me with the memory of a forehead kiss, with a whispered conversation to dissect, and a tingling feeling throughout my entire body.

“I hate you so much,” I say, curling closer around his shirt. There is no answer but my erratic heartbeat, drumming out a truth I am almost, but not quite, ready to hear.

Next

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary -- Chap 18

Hey guys! Still working on my professional writing endeavors, getting past some BETA reading stages atm. However, I had this unfinished chapter in my WIP pile, so I thought I'd add more to it to work past some writer's block. Thank you guys for all the continued support both for this story and my professional writing career! I'm hoping to respond to some of y'all's comments soon!

Read More on AO3 or see MASTERPOST for more chapters!

Michael let out a sigh as he entered his room, the smile he had been wearing all day finally leaving his lips. He could handle the attention if he didn’t need to smile at every moment. It was annoying, their pride. As if they were the ones who had descended into hell. As if they had seen the river Styx and spoken to the devil himself. Michael had known they would treat him like a puppet, but he hadn’t expected it to be so annoying.

Ariel tried his patience the most. The blond boy could barely get in a word when he was around, hand on his shoulder and speaking for him. If not for Miss Mead, Michael wouldn’t be able to bear it. Who did the man think he was? His father? Then again… the two weren’t as different, he supposed.

He let his bag fall off his shoulder and onto the floor. Why he even bothered with classes anymore was a mystery. What little friends he had — if he could call them that — shrank away from him. Such was the cost of power. That’s what Mead always said.

He missed her.

Pulling off his tie, he settled into his desk chair. Taking a book from the collection in his room, he set to reading. That girl had been looking at it while the witches and warlocks discussed the semantics of the Seven Wonders. He could still feel the way his finger burned, the way her green eyes bugged from her head before she tossed the book back on the shelf.

The last thing he needed was some inexperienced witch accidentally putting a hex on him. What sort of fool read magic spells aloud without considering the consequences? Had she not seen a single horror movie?

Michael remembered her eyes, the milky film that came to them in hell and the fire that burned in them when she faced that demon. If she were a fool, she was certainly a competent one.

Written mainly in Latin, Michael did his best to translate the words of the tome, some of them lost to water damage or tears. Speaking Latin, which had slowly become a synonym for the devil’s language, was simple for him to master. He thanked Satan for that ability. It was the only thing that could have put him behind his fellow warlocks. Ariel and the others had to think the blond boy was perfect. Anything less would ruin his plans.

Even so, perfection wasn’t easy. Mead assured him he was, but perfections seemed more impossible than hell itself.

He tutted at himself. So, this is what the girl had been talking about.

With a sigh, Michael moved to ready himself for bed. Passing the Seven Wonders only ensured him more work during the day. Ariel may not be a demon, but he certainly worked to possess the boy day and night. Nothing would satisfy the man until Michael moved like him, sounded like him, ruled like him. A perfect replica.

It was pathetic, really.

He tossed his tie onto the bed and slowly went to work unbuttoning his shirt. There was not a moment in the day where he wasn’t deep in thought, planning, re-planning, checking the chessboard to see how his pawns moved in his absence. The only time his mind was silent was when he dreamed. Even then, they felt like fevered visions, quickly forgotten when his alarm rang in his ear.

Unbuttoning his sleeve, Michael was startled by a flurry of pages. He jumped and his eyes were wide for only a moment before they hardened into an unreadable mask. When he turned, the pages of the tome were moving on their own, the force behind it frantically searching for something.

“Finis venit, ante initium.” A chilling breeze whispered.

The end comes before the beginning.

Slowly, Michael moved closer, body tense and on alert. He half expected the book to fling itself from the desk. His father was always impatient.

Finally, the pages settled. Craning his desk light closer, Michael saw the layout of a summoning circle. The spell, its components and the words to be spoken, were laid out in perfect detail. What it was to summon, however, was but a blur of intelligible ink.

The faint voice continued to whisper, “Mulieres gladius tuus sic recensetur. Tempus belli.”

Your sword has awoken. It is time for war.

.

.

.

Emily stood in a field, a sea of green reaching out for miles around her, no sign of ever stopping. She spun like a dog chasing its tail, hunting for something familiar. There were no wildflowers, no clouds in the sky. The air was not too warm nor too cool. It was, in all ways, perfect.

She didn’t know tranquility could be so suffocating.

Panic rose in her bell. In hell, at least she had Michael, but here she was alone. Emily ran towards the horizon even though she knew it would never end, tall grass catching at her legs like a million tiny hands. They whispered as she pushed on.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

The mere thought was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. If she had any need to breathe, that is. Dreams were peculiar that way. You could be strangled even when your body needed no air.

“You’re back!” A voice cried. Emily turned to the familiar figure, tripping over her own feet before righting herself. Her chest heaved and her eyes were dilated in alarm. A dark figure stood in long robes, unaware of the heat. How long had the heat been there? “They said it would take longer, but I knew you’d get Cordelia’s help.”

“Nan?”

Emily’s mouth had opened to say the name, but it was not her voice that spoke. Instead, another’s passed her lips. It was an unpleasant feeling — as if someone had reached down her throat and pulled out her tongue.

Her head turned as if someone were doing it for her. The brunette’s resistance only made it worse. Behind her, Cordelia stood almost swallowed by the verdant grass. Each step she took was careful and calculated. If she ran, the pair would only get further away… or so she believed.

Nan.

Nan.

Nan.

Then she was by Emily’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder. They felt like talons instead of flesh, digging into her shoulder; a breath away from being painful. She did not want to look. Looking made it real.

“What are you doing here?” Cordelia asked.

“I was asked to be here,” Nan replied, then nodded to Emily, “to meet a friend.”

The younger witch spared a glance to her Supreme, brown eyes meeting green for a fraction of a second. Those brown eyes quickly flicked back to Nan, unwilling to give anything else her attention. Emily opened her mouth to speak, to ask Nan all the questions that had been plaguing her since Hawthorne — What voice had spoken to her? Why had it spoken to her? What did it all mean? Why her?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Once again, she was spoken over. The words caught in her throat by something she could not see. Green eyes narrowed and grew dark, annoyed as Cordelia spoke once more.

“Nan, where are you?”

Emily’s heart fell. This was her Supreme’s true intention. She shouldn’t have been surprised. When Cordelia had said the spell would unleash the true potential of her powers, Emily had expected something different. Optimism had made her foolish.

The sky turned dark, gray clouds replacing azure skies. Emily did not notice, far too consumed by her doubts and fears. Why were her dreams always subverted? Why did they always get torn out and turned into another’s designs?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Nan’s eyes dashed from Cordelia, eyes narrowing as she observed the changing sky. She did not have time for this. Cordelia was a side effect and the spell would only last so long. There was work to do, work Cordelia would never comprehend or appreciate. Nan walked towards Emily, shuffling through the tall grass, her hand reaching into her cloak to pull out a bright, shining orb from the void and shadow.

Emily was nice. Her thoughts were nice. Overcast skies peeled away into bright blue once more. Nan’s eyes flickered towards her former Supreme whose brown eyes looked upwards in silent awe. Her thoughts were less nice. Then again, they had always been that way. She blamed Fiona.

With a flourish of her robe, Nan’s face lit up with a proud grin she couldn’t control.

“I believe this is yours.”

Confusion laid wake to slow joy which reminded Nan of a child on Christmas. It flickered in and out, but never disappeared, her mind warring between blinded optimism and pessimistic doubt.

It was beautiful, more than beautiful; opalescent and scattering light like the brightest star in the sky. Blue skies and the bright sun paled in its wake. A rainbow of refracted light scattered colors here and there.

Dainty hands hovered over the orb as if the smallest touch would burst it like a bubble. It was warm, magnetic — like a fire on a cold day.

The dead witch held the orb out even further, nodding to Emily with enthusiasm. Cordelia should appreciate the girl more, Nan thought. Perhaps, after this, she would. There were so many plans for the girl. More plans than a mortal mind could comprehend.

Emily cradled the orb like a child, her chest thrumming. A buzz filled her body. She looked between Nan and the object in her arms, unsure which she should focus on.

“What is it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, “is it—”

Nan smiled, “Exactly!”

Emily stared at her. Reading her thoughts, Nan smiled and nodded, giving the girl time to process.

“Your power,” Cordelia said.

Her eyes fixated on the orb as if it were a star held in Emily’s arm. “I’ve never seen—”

“I tried to give it to you last time,” Nan said, leaning in to whisper, “but you weren’t ready for it yet.”

“Ready?”

She looked to Cordelia, but the woman held no answers for her. When Emily turned back to Nan, the girl was gone, carried away by the breeze.

Cordelia looked to Emily only to stumble back and fall to the grass. Swallowed whole by verdant green. There was no pain. No sense of impact. Even if there were, she would not have noticed. All she could do was stare.

Emily’s green eyes had become a solid, glowing white that matched the glow of the orb in her hand. The girl looked ethereal — skin as clear as marble, hair swaying as if it were in water instead of air. When Emily knitted her brows and cocked her head in confusion, she didn’t look human at all. She looked… more.

Her gaze quickly returned to the orb, curling around it like a content cat. The smile on her face was that of relief, of a mother holding a newborn babe. Her hand gently brushed over the orb, trying to convince herself it was real.

“I’m afraid it will disappear as soon as I awake,” Emily said, a faint laugh leaving her as she said the words and looked back to Cordelia. “No matter how hard I try to pull it into the physical realm.”

Even her speech sounded different. Cordelia, at that moment, realized why Emily was so different than her other girls. With a power rooted in the limbo world — the world of visions, dreams, and hellish realms — Emily belonged more there than she did in the physical plane. The strain, the spark not quite a flame, was not her power trapped in this plane, but her body trapped in theirs.

Emily watched Cordelia, a flicker of anxiety and fear breaking past the overwhelming joy, “What must I do?”

The Supreme sputtered. She and Myrtle had worked tirelessly to create this spell, to get them into this limbo, but the next steps were lost to her. The blissful smile left the girl’s lips, Cordelia’s doubt hanging in the air like suffocating humidity. Why? Why did she torment her like this — with intangible possibilities and crushing hope?

The brunette’s voice caught in her throat. The sound startled the Supreme. “Please.”

For a moment, it seemed golden tears would pour from eyes of pure light. “I have missed it so much.”

One moment Cordelia was sprawled in the grass. The next she was standing. She had not moved to stand. It just, quite simply, was a fact. Something in her hand threw her off balance, hard and cool — A dagger, sharp enough to cut stone and polished so well she could see the conflict dancing in her eyes. Those eyes looked to the weapon with furrowed brows. Then, they looked at the girl before her.

What was this power? If she looked in her own soul, would her eyes be consumed by the same light? She thought of the dream Emily had told her, the child witch nearly burned to cinders. Was this the force that saved her that day?

Would this be a force that could save them?

But why was Nan there? Was it even Nan or was it a spirit playing pretend? You could never trust anything in a dream.

Emily stood, enamored by the orb, wanting to commit it to memory before it was lost for good.

Cordelia spared one last glance to the shining beacon in her student’s arms. The knife felt heavy. That heaviness only grew as the moments passed. It was divine, that light. She didn’t want to move. She wanted to bask in its light till the world stopped spinning.

But she was the supreme.

She was a leader.

She had lives to protect.

She had no choice.

In the end, it took little force to strike. Weight was but a concept in this realm. Cordelia’s ears rung as blinding light burst forth, a bomb of magic. Its comforting warmth burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

She had no choice.

The good of the coven had to come before all else.

.

.

.

“Delia? Delia, are you alright?”

Cordelia was pulled from her dream by an urgent voice. A blur of red was all she could see of Myrtle, a blur that refused to go away. Her hands shook over her face as she tried to rub her sight back into existence. Was she blind again? What had she done? She couldn’t be blind. Not now. There was far too much work to do. Far too much—

The Supreme swayed ever slightly and steadying hands tightened around her arms.

“Get me a chair,” Myrtle ordered.

“I’m fine,” Cordelia insisted, “Did we get it right? Did we—”

“Calm yourself, Delia. Getting worked up won’t help anyone.”

Cordelia felt a stood hit the back of her leg. With shaking hands, she reached back and lowered herself upon it. She couldn’t do this again. The girls could not see her fading. The warlocks could not see her fading. Not now. Not like this.

“Emily?” Cordelia called out, “Emily?”

Misty came beside her Supreme, brows knit with worry and hands reaching out for hers, “Miss Cordelia—”

Words were torn from her mouth as a loud gasp filled the room followed by a gust of wind that those of the inner circle could not shield themselves from. Queenie ducked to the ground, Myrtle to the table, and Madison to Zoe. If not for Misty, Cordelia would have been thrown to the ground. They shielded their eyes from the dust and debris that had accumulated over decades and when the wind stopped all they could do was stare with open mouths.

The greenhouse had always been well-loved. It had been attended to over the years by many a witch, creating a chaotic accumulation of plants, dirt, and tools. Cordelia herself had spent many an hour inside those walls. However, with her role as Supreme, she had found herself there less and less. The plants that did continue to grow were stubborn and dry, the colorful petals of flowers muted and wilting.

Cordelia rubbed her eyes and the blur receded from her sight, details coming into focus. First her fingers, then the table, and finally beyond.

“Oh, my god,” Zoe said, hardly louder than a whisper. Cordelia’s vision continued to clear, but she did not need sight to know the look upon the young woman’s face.

Queenie looked to her friend, muttering out, “holy fucking shit.”

Every brown, dry, and twisted stem now grew a verdant green. The flowers were brighter than any they had ever seen. Vines curled and moved before their eyes, curling up the table and around Emily’s arms.

She was still panting, covered in a cold sweat as if she had woken from a nightmare, but she could feel the vines slowly creeping up her hand. She held it up before her, eyes wide as the vine continued to advance up her arm. Her body was buzzing. The vine seemed to be a part of her, yet entirely separate from her being, a phantom limb or a tail that moved in instinct. It reached towards her wrist and settled in the palm of her hand, blooming a single small wisteria flower.

“Behold,” Myrtle spoke, “our oracle has awoken.”

Emily’s green eyes danced around her. Her heart drummed in her ears and nearly burst from her chest.

“Did I — Did I do this?”

Misty left Cordelia’s side, content now that the perceived danger had passed. A smile came to her lips as she came to Emily’s side, a spring in her step. She regarded Emily’s wide-eyed awe with amusement.

“I’m going to teach you about Louisiana mud now.”

“O— ok.”

“I don’t think she needs Louisiana mud,” Queenie noted, pulling off a few plants that had rooted themselves around her leg.

Misty frowned, “A little mud never hurt nobody.”

“Say that to my neck,” Madison scoffed, “I still have to use a bottle of perfume to mask the smell of shit.”

“I think that’s just you,” Zoe said.

“Whatever.”

Queenie moved closer to Emily as the two began to bicker.

“Did you see Nan again?” she asked.

Emily regarded her expression, the grief in her eyes and the heavy weight which pressed upon her shoulders. She nodded.

“Did she say anything?”

The expression on the brunette’s face spoke louder than her words. “Nothing beyond the circumstances.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you done being a killjoy?” Madison snapped from across the table.

Queenie’s grief quickly melded to annoyance, “You done being a bitch?”

“You say that like a bad thing.”

“Because it is.”

“Whatever.”

Flicking some dust off her shirt, Madison sauntered to the door only to turn back at the last moment.

“Welcome to the coven, bitch.” She said, “You’re our new Sabrina.”

When Emily stepped out of the greenhouse, the sky was scattered with stars. Time was different in the other. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but her mind was still buzzing, her ears still ringing.

She was a witch.

She was powerful.

She was something.

“Someone looks happy,” Misty noted, linking their arms together. Emily wasn’t even put off by the contact. All she could do was beam until her cheeks hurt. Words were intangible. Not a single one could describe the elation that beat in her chest with every step. If she could, she would soar.

“Careful there!”

Cordelia’s voice cut through the night, the songs of crickets and frogs stopping in their tracks. A hand latched on to the back of Emily’s shirt, pulling her back like a toddler on a leash. Her feet sink into the grass… or, should she say, back on the grass. The light from the house was enough for her to see Cordelia’s expression turn from that of surprise into one of amusement.

“Let’s save the levitation for later.”

“…my bad.”

The Supreme couldn’t quite place the look Emily gave her. It felt like she was looking past her… into her. She didn’t move, a deer caught in headlights. Her hand remained balled around a piece of Emily’s shirt until another voice broke the silence.

“Don’t worry, Miss Cordelia,” Misty assured, tightening her hold on the girl as the Supreme fell back into pace with her red-haired mentor, “I won’t let her float away.”

Queenie bumped Emily’s shoulder. “What else you got? Besides that, Airbender, Earthbender shit.”

“I… have no idea,” Emily said, “What else is there?”

Cordelia’s voice rang out behind them once more.

“Perhaps we should leave the experimentation for later.”

“You’re the one who keeps telling us to push ourselves.” Queenie reminded, reaching into her pockets and presenting a coin. “Here. Take it.”

Emily did as she was told, plucking the coin from her hand.

“Not like that, idiot. With your mind.”

“Oh.”

Holding the coin in her palm, Emily focused on her hand. Her fingers curled around the coin as if she were holding an apple instead. A picture of the coin pushed into her mind, she imagined plucking it up with her fingers, turning it in her hand.

The coin rose, fell, then rose again. Twisting her hand, it began to travel towards the girl before dropping in her empty palm. Emily shook her hand free of the buzzing, cracking her fingers for good measure.

“Smart-ass,” Queenie muttered.

“But you said—”

“I’m teasing, girl. Relax.”

“At least now you can actually participate during lessons,” Zoe noted, stepping aside to let Emily up the back steps of the mansion.

The brunette frowned, reaching for the handle of the back door, “I participate.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Look—”

One moment she was opening the door and the next she was in the hall. The breath left her lungs as she fell face-first onto the hardwood floors.

Zoe’s voice came from down the hall, “Emily?!”

“I’m fine,” the girl groaned, rolling over and laying on her back. When she looked up, the inner circle was coming around the corner. Queenie and Misty were snickering at the sight. She frowned.

“Oh. shut up.”

“At least you weren’t impaled,” Zoe offered, moving to help the girl to her feet.

“At least I wasn’t what now?”

“Don’t worry. Misty would make you good as new. You’ll smell like shit for a while, though — Louisiana Mud and all that.”

“Okay. Wait. Hold on.” Emily said, pushing up her glasses just so her hands had something to do, “Let’s go back for a second. You were way too calm about that. How often does this shit happen?”

“What was it?” Queenie asked, looking to Misty as she counted on her hand, “Madison died twice, Zoe died and came back, you died and came back and died again. Plus Nan, then me. So… seven times?”

“Don’t forget Myrtle.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. That’s two more deaths — so nine?”

“She died twice?”

“You were dead the second time,” Zoe interjected. Misty simply nodded in acknowledgment. “And don’t forget Fiona.”

“Fiona doesn’t count. She was a bitch.”

“So is Madison.”

Madison, who had been regarding the interaction quietly, frowned. “Hey!”

“Fair point. So that’s a total of ten.”

Emily looked to the three women with an expression of concern — like watching the village idiot run into a wall over and over and over.

“Only one impalement, though,” Misty reassured.

Emily sighed, “This place really needs to come with a liability warning.”

Zoe shrugged, “Just don’t use it to play tag and you should be good.”

“Well damn, that ruins all my plans for tomorrow.”

Zoe smiled and shook her head, “I think all that power is going to your head.”

“… maybe a little.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“One question: How do I stop the spontaneous…” Emily said, gesturing about her, “y’know?”

“Only by training and hard work, my dear” Myrtle spoke. “Which is why my dear Cordelia made you this.”

From her hands, a necklace hung. It wasn’t fancy or ornate. A simple thing, really. It looked like something you might find in a thrift store. At the end of the leather chain was a gold coin with a singular line carved in the center.

“It’s —”

Emily interrupted before she could finish, “The Isa rune.”

Myrtle smiled and nodded. Good. The girl was prepared. She would need that knowledge in the coming conflict.

“Simple, but effective,” The red-head said, “It should help you channel your power properly until you can do so yourself.”

The brunette looked at the amulet for a moment, turning it this way and that. Had runes always felt so… alive? The closest way she could describe magic was the buzzing of bees in your body mixed with a magnetic pull. Her eyes flickered between Myrtle and the coin.

“Thank you,” She finally spoke, moving to place the object around her neck. It weighed more than she thought it would and rested right under her heart.

“Think of it as insurance,” Myrtle said, “we’ve got enough destruction with our younger girls.”

“At least now I can keep up with them.”

“Or join them,” Madison said, pushing herself around the small crowd they had formed in the center of the hall, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do… like sleep.”

Emily listened to the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind her. Then, she turned.

“Madison.”

The woman sighed and turned around, “What?”

“Thank you.”

The former starlet was silent for a moment, then turned around and kept walking. “… Whatever.”

Emily smiled ever slightly and turned to the other girls. “You guys, too.”

“You know what they say:” Myrtle said with a knowing smile, “blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb.”

Her words echoed in Emily’s mind as she prepared for bed; rosewater for her face, rosemary for her hair. Before, they were household remedies. Rose was an anti-inflammatory that helped with redness. Rosemary promoted hair growth. There was something more to them now — her skin glowed and freckles danced across her face like stars, her hair was soft under her fingers and shone in the bathroom light.

Misty was already snoring when she made it back to her room, curled up on a thin mattress set up beside Emily’s bed. The brunette tip-toed across the floor, avoiding the creaky floorboard she had come to know by heart.

Heavy eyes pulled her towards the realm of dreams. The bed was warm, the sheets just heavy enough to sink her into the bed. Her thoughts began to slip into white noise, echoes of words that could not be recalled.

“Finis venit, ante initium.” A voice whispered, just as she was about to doze off. She hummed in annoyance, turning over on her side.

A cry made her blood turn to ice. She shot up in her bed, looking around for the source. She had nieces and nephews. She knew the sound of a baby’s cry. Footsteps paced the floor above and the cry continued — the attic.

“Misty,” She hissed, “Misty!”

Silence consumed the room, only broken by the baby’s cries. Emily climbed across her bed and reached to shake the woman awake.

“Misty! Do you hear that?”

The woman groaned and swatted at the hand that shook her. Her words came out low and slurred. “’Is jus’ a bird. Go t’ sleep.”

Emily looked to Misty, then back at the ceiling. Footsteps came from above once more. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the crying stopped. She regarded the ceiling with narrowed eyes, then slowly lowered herself back in the bed. Someone must have taken care of it. One of the younger girls probably had a nightmare.

With a sigh, she turned on her side, willing sleep to return to her. Her hair continued to stand on edge and an intense need to move plagued her limbs. With the grace of a mouse, she scampered over to the door, locked it, and threw herself into the covers once more.

The moon cast the room in a pale glow. Emily had lucked out, the room facing the back of the house where she was free from the obnoxious yellow lights from the street lamps. She looked at the plant on her bedside, wilted flowers now proudly blooming. She reached out a hand, picturing water crawling up the stem. Yellow petals turned blue, the color sweeping across them like an ink stain. Even when she pulled back, the color proudly stood. One minute, two minutes, three — the color remained.

Emily stared at it with pride. Something had awoken inside her, something she had yearned for since the moment she was born.

Power.

She finally had power.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hate (one-shot)

Synopsys: Bucky and reader have been stuck in the safe house for quite a while now, and the snow doesn’t seem like it will be letting off any time soon. New Year is creeping closer and closer. And it’s just the Reader’s luck that she’s stuck with a person who absolutely despises her guts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluuuuuuuuffff, soft angst 

Warnings: swearing, the reader is so dumb... like the last three brain cells she had, left the chat because of what an idiot she is

Word count: 2816

He hated her. Y/N was absolutely one hundred percent sure – Bucky Barnes despised her. The war veteran, the last serving Howling Commando, the longest-held war prisoner and the man who had stolen her heart hated her.

      She watched him from over the rim of her coffee cup, how his long brown locks fell over his high cheekbones, and he huffed pushing them away from his face. Y/N had to force down the groan of just how much she had to restrain herself from going over, running her fingers through his hair and maybe tying it back in a little bun. Fuck, if he ever did that, she was sure she’d die from the hotness that was Bucky Barnes.

      They hadn’t known one another for that long. Y/N had joined the Avengers a couple of months after the whole Thanos thing. For one, she had been one of the unfortunate ones to be dusted. She had been taking a warm, relaxing bath after a long day when her feet suddenly disintegrated in the water. The last thing Y/N had managed was to throw her book over the side, so at least that didn’t get wet.

      Sam had found her after everyone was brought back by Bruce. He was recruiting new people for the team as the new captain, and the first thing she had been there to witness was his try-on haul of the new star-spangled costume.

      “Don’t you think it’s a bit novel?” Y/N asked biting on her lip. “I think the shield would be enough to tell them who’s the boss.”

      “It’s a symbol!” Sam emphasized and turned around to look at his ass. “It’s supposed to send a message.”

      Y/N hid her smile behind her palm and shrugged. “Just… never picked you as the tights guy.”

      Sam groaned. “They are not tights!”

      That was the moment when Y/N had met Bucky, and that’s when all of her rational thinking flew out of the window faster than Redwing.

      He came sauntering into the living room, a grey T-shirt stained with sweat and clinging to his body, the fabric defining each and every muscle the man owned. When Sam said that Y/N started drooling quite literally, it might've been because of the fact that a little dribble of her coffee she had had in her mouth actually spilt out on her leg.

      “You look like the American fucking flag,” Bucky snorted and gulped down a large mouthful of water, cocking his hip out.

      Fuck, Y/N thought to herself, how in the absolute hell can someone drinking be the most sinful thing on Earth. Like holy hell when did sweat become a turn on for her? Especially when it slowly slid along his neck and disappeared down his chest. She had to close her eyes to remove the mental image of him panting on top of her. Sweaty, like in that moment, but because of different reasons.

      “Fuck off, tin can,” Sam snapped back, “or I’ll replace you with her.” He motioned with his head towards Y/N, and she ducked further down on the couch. “You’re not special with your sniping.”

      Bucky shook his head and threw her a quizzical look. “And what’s so special about you?”

      Y/N would’ve probably answered nothing, that she’s completely ordinary because actually talking about her abilities and giving herself some credit was way beyond her skill set, so Sam stepped in.

      “She’s an army vet and was in the Snakeskin program.”

      Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Snakeskin?”

      “They were an elite ground force group of troops trained to be as stealthy as assassins. Her specialty is sniping. So, don't go on thinking you're something special. 'Cause you're not.”

      The super soldier now fully looked her over, and Y/N wanted the couch to cut open and swallow her whole, because holy fucking fuck, was Bucky’s gaze intense. It was like he was trying to carve out her soul just by looking at her. The only thing that came to her mind was to give him an awkward smile and a small wave. He gave her a nod and then looked back at Sam.

      “I’ll be out for the rest of the day. Steve said he wanted some help with repainting the fence.”

      “Yeah, you go be a good wife,” Sam waved him off and looked himself over once more in the mirror. “And please remind him he owes me twenty bucks.”

      “What for?” Bucky hollered from the hallway.

      “He knows!”

      They only heard a scoff before the elevator dinged, announcing Bucky’s exit.

      “So,” Sam looked at Y/N through the mirror. “That went well.”

      If only that was how she saw it. Y/N thought Bucky hated her, and Sam’s little remark about her replacing him was not sitting well with the woman. She wasn’t there to replace anyone, least of all one of her childhood heroes who was doing everything in his power to prove his worth to the world (even though she didn’t think he had anything to prove and everyone else could just go off and fuck themselves).

      She was just there to hopefully once again regain some sort of a sense to her life. After leaving the Snakeskin program, and being one of the victims of the Snap, it was hard to find where she belonged. Then Sam called Y/N up and told her they were reforming the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and he wanted her to be a part of it, so she jumped on the opportunity.

      And that’s what lead them to that moment – Y/N slowly sipping her coffee as Bucky tried to finish up a crossword puzzle. From time to time she glanced up from the swirling black liquid to the super-soldier, but of course, he wasn’t paying any kind of attention to her. He never did.

      After their first meeting, their interactions were limited to small ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ and communicating during missions. There was never any direct animosity, but the fact that Bucky talked to everyone on a daily basis except for Y/N – well, she didn’t need it to be spelt out.

      But it was just Y/N’s luck, wasn’t it? First, she got sent out on a mission with a man who can’t stand to even spare her a glance, then they get snowed in without a way out (even the jet was seven feet under the snow), and now New Years was right around the corner, and she would have to spend it all alone.

      Y/N looked out the window to the never-changing scene of swirling white flakes. They weaved and moved in a dance she couldn’t comprehend. But while she watched what was happening beyond the glass, Bucky was watching her.

      His eyes trailed the way her face curved and sloped, eyelids half-closed surveying the scenery, but mostly how her flannel shirt had slipped off from one of her shoulders. He so badly wanted to reach out and gently place it back to where it was, but he couldn’t.

      Bucky was no longer the same confident man in an army uniform that used to sweep ladies off their feet and make them dance the night away. This man woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and could barely keep eye contact with anyone that wasn’t Steve, Shuri or Sam for no longer than five seconds. So, pulling Y/N’s shirt back up was out of the fucking question. But he didn’t have to dwell on it for too long.

      “I’m gonna take a shower,” she announced, although she had no real idea as to why. Bucky only responded with a hum, which she guessed was more than what she expected to receive, but then again – it was more of an acknowledgement than she’d gotten in the three days they’d been stranded together.

      The stream of hot water pelleting her skin was a welcome change from the icy touch of being ignored and discarded. Although Y/N was stuck in a safe house somewhere in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere in Finland, it was a Stark-created safehouse. So, it was occupied by every possible piece of technology. Including the best speakers known to man.

      Because Y/N was a punk-rock emo bitch at heart (did you really think I wouldn’t put this in? Killjoys are back, suckers! Put on your fucking eyeliner and get ready cause it was not a phase, mom, it's a fucking lifestyle!), her playlist automatically switched from ‘Kicking-Ass’ that was designed to hype her up during missions to ‘Singing-Like-A-Rock-Star’ with ‘Gives You Hell’ blasting through the bathroom.

      It was like Tony had known that people would be absolutely jamming in the bathrooms because the floor was lined with a rubber mat, giving Y/N the freedom to go ham.

      And she sent up a little 'thank you' to wherever Tony was because she had needed that. She had needed to let go of all of the tension and thoughts that had collected in her body just so she could re-enter that same worrying state a second later. Just with clean hair now.

      Pulling on comfy grey sweats and a huge navy-blue T-shirt, she twisted the towel and plopped it back over her head to keep the wet strands away. The house was constantly warm because Bucky kept the fireplace stocked almost 24/7, but it was even warmer now as he had added a new pile of wood, though the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Which was fine by Y/N.

      With a huff and a roll of her head, she ventured into the kitchen, having decided that dinner needed to be had. It was halfway through her boiling pasta when the shrill sound of her phone ringing made her drop the sauce-slathered spoon.

      “Yeah?” She pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear and went to wash off the spoon, careful not to put the curved-inward part under the stream.

      “Y/N,” Sam’s warm voice invaded her senses. “How are you holding up? Fury and Maria says the storm’s still raging.”

      A glance outside of the window told her as much. “Any news on when it might stop?”

      “None at this moment,” Sam replied. “They’re checking every five minutes for an update so they can finally send an extraction bird out.”

      “Ooh, can you ask Maria to send the one with the bed?”

      “Sorry,” Sam sighed in mock sadness, “that one’s been sent out to Guatemala to pick up Wanda.”

      “Ugh,” Y/N groaned and threw her head back. “Damn Wanda and her mission. Could she not like manage until she got back to the Tower? It's not like she's had to sleep in the middle of the jungle or something?”

      Sam laughed, and it made her smile, knowing that he understood her joking tone. “Yeah, right? What a princess!”

      Y/N smiled and finally added the pasta to the boiling water. “What are you gonna get her for her birthday?”

      “Dunno,” her friend replied. “She’s been looking at that one perfume for a while, but we gotta figure out what Vis is getting first… speaking of other halves – you and Bucky getting on well?”

      Y/N huffed turning to face the boiling pot and stirring the pasta in it. A little vortex formed completely mimicking how she felt on the inside. “As well as two people who can’t stand to be near one another, but have to share a place, can.”

      She heard him chuckle. “Come on, it can’t be that bad! I still don’t think you’re in the right about this.”

      “About what?” her eyebrows furrowed. She took out a piece of pasta and chewed on it. Still wasn’t the right texture.

      “About Bucky. I think you’ve got it all wrong.”

      The scoff that wanted to escape her throat was blocked by the piece of food, and she almost choked on it. “Sam, he fucking hates me!”

      “I – I don’t hate you,” came a voice from behind Y/N, and she spun around, mouth left hanging open as her phone was clutched tightly by her ear.

      She could practically hear Sam grin through the phone. “I guess you gotta go.”

      Bucky stepped closer just as she lowered the now silent mobile. “Y/N, why would you ever think I hate you?”

      “Be – because you do?”

      “When did I say that?”

      She shook her head. “You didn’t have to.”

      Bucky’s whole face fell at her words. “What do you mean?”

      “I mean you talk with everyone else but me. You can’t look me in the eye one bit, and do I need to remind you when you actually left the whole Christmas gala thing right after I walked in, and I quote ‘I can’t be around her’.”

      Bucky’s eyes widened, and this time it was his jaw that hung open. “You heard that.”

      “Loud and clear.”

      “I – I,” he stammered and then cleared his throat. It was time to put all the cards on the table. “I only said that because had I stayed; I would’ve done something I’d regret.”

      “Like what?”

      “Like kissed you.”

      And there went Y/N’s breath. And her heart. And her sanity. And frankly, everything she’d ever known.

      “I would’ve most likely told you how I felt,” he said and stepped closer watching every facial feature of hers.

      “And how do I make you feel?” she breathed out.

      “Nervous. I haven’t had feelings like this for a girl in decades… and I didn’t know how to process them let alone act on them. Things have changed so much since I was chasing skirts… nowadays everything’s so complicated… and I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same. I mean, we have to work together, and we live in the same place, so if things didn’t work out… I just didn’t wanna risk it.”

      As he talked, she had started to pace. In stressful situations where she didn’t have to focus on pulling the trigger or if she wasn’t trying not to trip off a treadmill, Y/N paced. A lot. She was pretty sure there was a line in the living room floor where she had done her thinking before missions.

      “Wait, so you like me?” Y/N spun around and pointed at him. “Like really like me?”

      “Yeah,” Bucky chuckled as relief flooded his veins. He wouldn’t have smiled as wide as he did, had he not seen her lips quirk up. “Yeah, I really like you.”

      “And you don’t hate me?”

      “Not one bit.”

      Y/N stepped forward, head hanging low as she carefully grasped Bucky’s hand and intertwined their fingers, metal twining with flesh. “So, you like me?” she looked up at him, eyes intently watching his face. He squeezed her palm stepping closer as well, chest to chest at that point. He placed both of their hands right over his beating heart.

      “Yeah, I do... Happy New Year, Y/N,” Bucky muttered with a shy smile gracing his face.

      “What?” she had been so lost in his eyes that his words weren’t registering. His soft chuckle was like a melody designed by angels.

      “I said Happy New Year.”

      Y/N looked down to the worn watch on his right wrist and sure enough, the two hands were perfectly aligned to 12. A small chuckle escaped her mouth as she reconnected their gazes.

      “Happy New Year, Buck.”

      He was so close to her; she could smell the hot chocolate he had been drinking. Y/N closed her eyes, insides trembling as he leaned closer. But the kiss never came

      “I heard you in the shower.”

      “What!?”

      Bucky grabbed a spoon from the table and used it as a microphone, pointing at Y/N and wiggling his hips to the rhythm of the song. “’ Hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!’” She shoved him away from her and through a laugh threw her towel at him.

      “Ugh, I hate you!”

      “No, you don’t!” Bucky grabbed at her waist and pulled her to him. Together they plopped down on the couch, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to pull her in his lap, legs thrown over his and head resting against his shoulder. Y/N looked up at him, her hand leaning against his stomach as she drew gentle circles on the shirt clad torso.

      “Can I kiss you?”

      She chuckled and moved closer to Bucky. “Are you still going to make fun of me and my singing?”

      He looked like he was contemplating before he nodded, a wide smile on his face as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Yeah. Most definitely. For as long as you let me.”

      “And if I say forever?”

      She didn’t need to hear him say what was on his mind when the only thing that existed was Bucky’s smile. Y/N’s own lips widened, as he bent closer. The New Year and the new decade had begun quite a few minutes ago, but neither cared much because as their lips touched, a new chapter in their lives opened.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane @its-nott-my-problem

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28

A/N: Hi! so, quite a lot of things have happened. and the biggest thing is... I’m gonna be seeing MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE in JUNE!!! AAAHHHHH!!! I’ve been a fan of them since I was nine, and now I finally get the chance to see them perform live! I’ve never been so stressed in my life while trying to get tickets to something! I was in the middle of my 9 AM lecture and I was legit shaking. I fuffed about for like 3 seconds and those 3 seconds cost me the tickets... at first! and then it was like the emo gods were smiling down upon me, I saw there was another date added. I thought it was a glitch in the system because nothing was announced. so, obviously, I clicked off, only for my twitter notification to go off that they have announced they have added another date. I think it’s fair to say that I was barely functioning as I clicked furiously on my computer. And now I get the chance to see them... I am STOAKED!!!

[pastelsandpining]

I’ll Be Home (Coming Home After Being Away)

The seventh prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​ | Prequel

Prompt List

Words: 4596

Summary: So, this is actually a sequel to tomorrow’s prompt but can be read separately?? I guess?? The rundown is that Link left years ago to search for his fairy and never returned. Zelda tried not to lose hope. He made her a promise, after all.

Ocarina of Time, child timeline?? Idk how the timelines work y’all please

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist 

“Your gown is ready, your highness.”

“Thank you,” Zelda answered, nodding in the direction of her lady-in-waiting. “I’ll be there shortly.”

When the door shut behind her, the princess turned her gaze back to the long dried flower. She set it carefully onto the page with the others and slowly closed the book, ensuring no petals or leaves crumbled in the process. The book was placed back on the shelf, right next to the Ocarina of Time and a dust-covered medal imprinted with the crest of Hyrule. She had no time to gaze at the reminders of her childhood this afternoon, because there was beckoning from all directions that insisted on getting her ready in time.

Zelda stepped through the doors of the washroom, where she was pleasantly surprised to see the water was still warm. A wash of her hair and a soap of lavender scent would treat her well and be pleasant to anyone in close proximity. She could not deny her maidens the credit--they always went above and beyond to make sure she was presentable in every fashion. A grand event called for twice the effort, so the princess sat without complaint in her robe as they brushed gentle powders over her face. 

“Are you excited, Princess?” asked a maiden as she painted a color onto Zelda’s closed eyelids. “I hear there are princes from outside of Hyrule coming to get a glimpse of you.”

“Oh, is that so? I hope one takes a liking to you, Elizabeth,” she replied, folding her hands in her lap. “You would fare well with royalty.”

“You’re too kind,” Elizabeth said, and Zelda could hear the blush on her cheeks. “No man would notice me.”

“Hold yourself high,” Zelda encouraged as she pried her eyes open. “Everyone is deserving of love and happiness.”

“Do you hope to find love tonight?” asked the maiden behind her, who was busy twisting her hair into an elegant knot. 

“I believe that whatever is fated will happen in time. If that time is tonight, then so be it.” It was a far better answer than telling them she had found love long ago and had no intentions of finding it again. 

Zelda could hardly blame the maidens for their excited chatter and shared whispers. She pretended not to notice them, because their one form of entertainment was to gossip. Anyone who gossiped with ill intention was not worth troubling herself with, and while they were far from it, she didn’t pay any mind to them. It was not her business what anyone said about her, or about the anticipated guests, or about themselves. She had other matters to concern herself with.

An hour had passed by, and she was finally permitted to stand from the chair and move to the next room. A silken slip hugged her form and protected her skin from the rough edges of the corset. There weren’t many layers, but she was still grateful for the design of the dress. 

It was a soft pink, a color to match the rose on her cheeks and paint on her lips. The skirt consisted of multiple layers that ruffled out into a pattern at the bottom. There were lace and glittering jewels sewed onto the bodice that caught the light. The neck cut low, but not low enough to be anything but modest. The top of her sleeves were rather poufy and the rest poured off in pink streams, but they were transparent and light. It fit her well.

The crown on her head, golden and sparkling with precious rubies made her look like a blossoming queen. She would turn heads tonight, more so than usual, and it was all thanks to her dressmaker and maidens. But she was already exhausted, and the ball hadn’t even begun. 

Yet she was being escorted through the halls of the castle and steered towards the ballroom, which was already filling up with people. She could see that the maidens were right--there were people from everywhere, even outside of Hyrule. She wondered just how many suitors her father had contacted.

She supposed she would find out shortly, because her father had gathered the attention of the crowd and was now introducing her. With no more room to run, Zelda stepped out from the archway and down the stairs. The king took her hands and pulled her in for a kiss, and she had to fight back a smile.

“I’m not married yet, father,” she said, reaching up a hand to brush away a tear from his cheek.

“No,” he agreed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You really do look like your mother.”

“So I’ve heard,” she replied with a laugh. “It’s not too late to call them off. I could refuse to marry, stay with you.”

It was the king’s turn to laugh as he leaned his forehead to hers.

“Go,” he urged. 

She pulled her hands free and pressed a kiss to his cheek before gathering her skirts and descending into the crowd. Various diplomats were on her immediately, greeting her and complimenting her and talking her into a frenzy about their own nations and accomplishments, no doubt trying to impress her. All she could do was smile and nod and pretend she was interested until another person came along to sweep her away.

“My father owns quite the bit of land,” a lord whose name she’d forgotten boasted as he twirled her across the floor. “It could be an advantage for both kingdoms.”

“Yes,” Zelda agreed, but she didn’t voice her knowledge of where this was going. The kingdoms were far enough apart that they’d try to force her to move and give up the rule of Hyrule--which was not an option as far as she was concerned. So when the next person cut in for a dance, she was more than willing to switch partners.

“I hear Hyrule has been at the edge of not one, but two civil wars within the past century. I have no room to suggest anything, but I can offer some tactics that would help convince the provinces to obey,” said a prince from a nation she’d never heard of. 

“Hyrule has managed quite well on our own,” Zelda replied, fighting to keep the bite out of her voice. “But thank you. Should we need assistance again, we will be sure to reach out.”

“My father believes in discipline. That’s the only way to make a child listen,” continued the prince, as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

“I’ve found that competent parents can make do without the use of force,” she stated simply and used a passing server with a tray of wine to make her escape. She was not technically of age to be drinking, but no one knew that as far as she was aware, and if the night was going to continue like this, then a glass or two wouldn’t hurt.

She was happy to find the wine dry but sweet, and she recognized the danger of something so tasty. While a duke rambled away to her, she reluctantly reduced her number of glasses to one for the night. The last thing she needed was for these men to think she was under any sort of influence.

When she was granted a moment to herself again, Zelda ducked further into the crowd until she found someone familiar to her. Nabooru, the not-so-new Gerudo chief, was in attendance, dressed in glittering Gerudo jewels.

“Princess,” greeted Nabooru with her arms open for a hug. “You look as lovely as a rose.”

“It’s lovely to see you again. How is Gerudo Valley fairing?” Zelda asked, taking caution not to spill her drink during the hug.

“Very well, thanks to you. The funds your father lent us were enough to not only build a proper town, but to conduct repairs to the Desert Colossus. With Impa’s consistent transport of food and resources, we’ve managed to turn ourselves around.”

“It does no good to dwell on the past. We can only own up to our mistakes and move forwards from here. Had it not been for our mistreatment of the Gerudo in the first place, Ganondorf would never have felt the need to avenge the pride lost in the civil war.”

“Lighten up, kid,” Nabooru said with a grin. “Things are looking up. Have you found a suitor to your liking yet?”

“Hardly,” Zelda replied, leaning closer as she lowered her voice. “The men I’ve spoken to so far are so full of arrogance and a lust for power.”

“That’s men for you,” Nabooru answered as she took a seat at a table. Zelda smiled and slid into the seat across from her, setting her glass down on the white tablecloth. “Don’t let any of them fool you. Ganondorf had a winning smile and the charm of a king, but look what he truly turned out to be.”

“For all of your skill and beauty, I cannot believe you settled for him.”

“Hey, Gerudo men are in very limited supply. When you’re a naïve girl, a powerful man giving you attention is enough to cloud your mind. I’m happy you’re able to see through that.”

“I would offer to marry you if you were younger,” Zelda joked as she picked up her wine to take another sip. “If any of your warriors are available and interested, I’d be more than happy to comply.”

Nabooru laughed.

“It’s going that badly, huh?” 

“I’ve danced with at least eight men so far tonight, and I think three of them were named ‘Edward’,” Zelda whispered with a laugh of her own. 

“I don’t think you’re one to talk, Princess. Which ‘Zelda’ are you again? The thirtieth? The forty-seventh?”

Zelda rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t reply because it would seem her time was up. There was a prince who spoke from besides her with an “I’m sorry to interrupt” (oh, he’d better be) and a request to dance.

“Find your prince charming,” Nabooru said, waving Zelda away with her hand. The princess gave her friend a playful glare as she took the prince’s hand and was pulled back towards the center of the ballroom.

“Might I ask who requested my hand in dance?” she asked with a polite smile. Now that she was closer, this prince seemed younger than her. Not by much, but by enough for her to be a little taller than him.

“My name is Prince Henry of the Liles Empire, just off the north coast of Hyrule,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to see your beauty up close.”

“Likewise,” she said, though she hardly meant it. He was not bad on the eyes, but those who approached her with comments on her appearance struck her as vain and, well, in it for just that. She could be reading them wrong of course, but she’d learned how to navigate her instincts and properly react after Ganondorf’s plan had been thwarted. 

“If I’m being honest, I do not know how to hold a proper conversation with a lady such as yourself,” stated Henry as he led them in a circle. 

“I could not tell,” she replied with a patient and gentle smile. 

“My mother convinced me to ask you to dance. She believes an alliance would benefit our kingdoms.”

“A smart lady. Many of the others here tonight have said the same thing.”

“I don’t want to marry, though. You’re beautiful and kind, but I..” 

Zelda gave the poor boy’s hand a squeeze. She knew his position quite well, if she was reading him correctly. All people had their secrets and anxieties. She would likely never see him again, so she felt she could be his peace, even if only for a moment.

“It’s an unpleasant position to be in,” she supplied, twirling him in the direction of a smaller crowd.

“It is. I couldn’t force myself to love anyone else.”

“Oh? Do you have someone in mind?” 

A blush crossed the young boy’s face, but he looked eager to tell someone. He was the first of the night not interested in her or her land, so she was more than happy to indulge him.

“A kitchen girl back in my kingdom. She came to deliver breakfast one day when my servant fell ill and spilled tea on me.”

“Ah, a fairytale meeting,” Zelda replied with a small laugh.

“She’s beautiful. But my parents would never hear of it.”

“Stay true to your heart. I was always told that those fated to be together will find each other in time. To those who won’t agree, I say if you aren’t happy, how could you ever be expected to make a kingdom happy?

“They told me you were wise, but you speak as if you know the pain yourself.”

Zelda offered a sad smile. Perhaps one glass had been too many, because she was about to bare her soul to this young prince she’d met only minutes ago.

“I love a boy from my childhood,” she told him, cracking open old scars. “A little boy from the forest who helped me catch a tyrant. He disappeared years ago and no one has seen him since.”

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

“If I may offer advice, Prince Henry, tell your kitchen girl properly that you love her. But take care of your heart. It’s the only one you have.”

She tried to spend as much time around Prince Henry as possible. She found him pleasant company and he could be quite silly, but after an hour, the young prince could no longer keep the other suitors at bay. She was whisked away again, and she was growing very tired. 

Her feet were sore in her heels, and her corset felt tighter with every tick closer to midnight. Yet she wasn’t dismissed yet, and she was determined to make it through this. No one could say she hadn’t tried.

Zelda searched the crowd for Nabooru again, longing for another conversation with a competent person, but she’d hardly taken two steps before another voice interrupted her.

“Princess Zelda, might I request a dance?”

She held back a sigh and plastered yet another polite smile on her lips as she turned, but she was not a good enough actor to keep it from slipping away. Her eyes widened and she took a step back, because she was convinced for a moment that she was dreaming.

His eyes were a striking blue, a color she’d accustomed herself with long ago. His smile was charming instead of crooked, but his dimples were just the same. He was taller now and he lacked the forest color he once ran around in, but something about him told her he hadn’t changed that much at all.

“Link..?” she whispered out, then clamped her hands over her mouth like she was afraid of someone hearing her. A breeze slipped past them when a couple whizzed by, but that wasn’t why she was trembling.

“I realize I’m six years late, and I apologize,” he replied, his cheeks reddening with shame. “But I made a promise to you, and I couldn’t bear to break it.”

“You..” For all of her wise words throughout the night, she found it very hard to speak. She took a hesitant step forward, then lifted her hand. Her fingertips brushed over his cheek and once she knew he was solid, she pressed her palm against his skin. He was warm beneath her touch. Warm enough to feel alive. “Is it really you..?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice soft and filled with more emotion than she’d ever heard it before. He placed his hand over her own, making her skin burn under his touch, but she couldn’t pull away.

For a moment, all she could do was look at him. She looked at his eyes, took in his face and his features, and tried to blink the stinging away. 

Perhaps the whole ballroom was watching, but Zelda dropped her hand and instead wrapped her arms wordlessly around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and squeezed her eyes shut as the first of the sobs escaped her. His arms circled around her waist and held her close, but it did nothing to stop the trembling. He was not the child she hugged all those years ago, but he still felt so familiar.

“Can.. can we go-“ She couldn’t finish her question.

She was aware of the scene she was making, and she didn’t want to embarrass her father any further, so she bit back another sob and kept her head down as Link led her out of the ballroom and onto a nearby balcony. The fresh air was icy on her skin and wet cheeks, but he took her face so gently into his hands that she felt like she would melt.

“I missed you,” he spoke. It was no louder than a whisper, but it reached volumes that deafened her to everything else. All she could do was hug him tight and cry harder.

“Goddesses, Link, I— where did you go?” she asked when she caught her breath again.

“Termina,” he replied. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long, but they needed help.”

She’d never heard of it before, but she didn’t care because he was here. 

“I thought.. I didn’t know if you were even alive.” But her love for adventure hadn’t changed and she sat him on a bench as she demanded, “Tell me everything.”

And so he did. He told her of the troublesome Skullkid and the malevolent mask. He told her of the overhanging moon that threatened to fall, and of the trials he had to overcome. He told her of the masks he collected and of the god he had to fight. And Zelda’s heart ached for her hero who could not catch a break. Trauma followed him everywhere he went, and he hadn’t even found Navi. 

“Link.. I’m so sorry,” she said, gripping his hands tighter. “You’ve gone through so much..”

“It’s over,” he assured her. “Or at least, I hope.”

“I couldn’t imagine. I’m so happy you’re safe. Oh, you’ve grown so much..”

“And you look every bit the princess you were always meant to be.”

Zelda laughed, bubbly and weak, and buried her face in her hands.

“Goddesses, I missed you,” she murmured and wiped at her eyes. How he could still call her beautiful when she looked a mess, she didn’t know. 

“I made a pinky promise. Besides, I recall you telling me you’d be very mad at me if I didn’t come back and I don’t think I could live with that.” 

She lifted her head and sniffled.

“Well, you certainly took your time,” she joked and brushed some hair from his eyes.

“I hope this can make up for it.” Link pulled a box from his pocket and carefully pried it open. A sparkling blue jewel in the shape of a teardrop hung from a silver chain. It was almost glowing against the black velvet cushion.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed, running her fingers gently over the stone.

“It’s a Moon’s Tear,” he explained as he lifted it from the box. 

“From the falling moon?” she asked. Link gestured for her to turn around, so she shifted on the bench and set her back to him. 

“Clever girl,” he replied. She could practically hear the smile on his face.

The jewel was cold against her skin, but Link’s fingertips brushing the back of her neck as he clamped the necklace is what made her shiver. 

“You’re quite ridiculous, I hope you know that,” she said as she turned to face him again.

“It’s no ring,” he answered and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “But I hope it’ll do.”

Zelda blinked in confusion, fiddling with the Moon’s Tear as she watched him gather his thoughts.

“A ring?” she asked quietly.

“I.. promised to marry you when I got back. You’re perfectly allowed to decline, of course. I wouldn’t— I mean-.. is this weird?”

Her cheeks burned as she burst into a fit of giggles, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle them. Link looked at her, flushed with embarrassment, and soon he was laughing too. The innocent promise of two children had lasted over years of distance, even if it was more of humor than anything else now that they were older. She leaned into him, holding her stomach as her muscles grew tighter. Goddesses, she missed his laugh so much. Six long years were not enough to change him at all. 

When their laughter quieted, Zelda lifted her head and took his face into her hands. He smiled at her, sending her head spinning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever return,” she whispered as she ran her thumbs along his cheekbones, relishing in his warmth and presence. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she was being too forward—she just got him back and would rather not lose him again. So she reluctantly pulled her hands back to herself and fiddled with the necklace again.

“There were times I didn’t think I would,” he admitted. With the stories he recounted, she believed him. And she was beginning to understand the Princess’s decision to send him back in time in the first place. But it didn’t seem like he was fated to have an easy existence. 

“I’m sorry your search was in vain.” And even that wasn’t enough, but what could she offer him? What words could she say to him that could quell the sadness running deep in his veins, betrayed by his eyes despite how happy he looked to be back. For all the wisdom she held in her blood, she knew no answer. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” said Link softly, turning his gaze on her. The more she looked at him, the harder it was to maintain the poise she’d so very recently returned her hold on. So she looked away with a small smile and tilted her head to gaze up at the stars. 

“What would you say?” she asked, tracing the constellations painting the sky with her eyes. A thousand stories came with those stars, stories about their past and their future, stories about fate and things beyond their understanding. She always felt that the stars knew and could see everything, and hiding was a naïve comfort they were never really granted. Even when they were children, throwing themselves under a blanket and giggling, the stars could see everything--even the secrets they didn’t truly have. They had known all along what would become of her and of the Hero of Time. She didn’t know if she pitied the stars or envied them.

“I would say anything that leads me back to you is more than worth it.”

Zelda turned her eyes to him, where she found nothing but sincerity and a tired smile. She could remember a childish curiosity whenever he looked at her, but she couldn’t quite name the gaze his eyes held now. Heat blossomed over her cheeks again and with a laugh, she ducked her head.

“Welcome home, Hero,” she said as she shook her head. “I hope you’re able to find the life of peace you deserve.”

“To be honest, Princess, I think a life of peace would drive me to the brink of sanity. I didn’t return with the hopes of finding it. I don’t… I don’t think I’d even want it.”

There was no hiding the mix of confusion and surprise and concern that took over her features upon hearing his words. A life of peace did not interest him? She wondered for a moment whether he was already past the threshold of sanity, or if he’d simply left his mind in Termina.

“Then,” she began, treading lightly over what could possibly be dangerous waters, “what is it that you want?”

“I want a life by your side.” His cheeks were as pink as hers under the moonlight, but it could very well have been just an effect of the bitter cold. “I know we’re not kids anymore and.. and a lot has changed. But if I could be even just in your service, I would be satisfied.”

“You owe nothing more to Hyrule,” Zelda spoke quickly, taking back all sense of personal space as she held his cheek again. “You’ve done more for us than we could ever begin to thank you for. You reap scars and trauma we can’t even begin to imagine. We are happy to have you back, of course, but you needn’t swear your life to any more trouble, Link.”

“Serving you would be of no trouble at all, Princess.” His hands wrapped gently around hers, pulling it from his skin, and he brought her knuckles to his lips instead. His warm breath fanned over her skin and for the first time of the evening, she did not regret the gloveless design of her outfit.

She could hear her own words, hypocritical and laughable, pouring from her lips when she told little Prince Henry to follow his heart and to hell with those who disagreed. It was much harder to take her own advice--like it was a bitter medicine that brought her heart into her throat and made her tremble. But all she could see was the little forest boy giving her one last wave, so much alike with the man who sat before her now. Her heart lurched.

“I love you,” she said, hardly louder than the gentle breeze that circled them. “And I know that I’m not your Zelda--the Zelda you first defended Hyrule for-”

“You are every bit the same Zelda. The only difference is this time, we don’t have to say goodbye. Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” she begged, gripping his hands tighter.

“Then let me stay with you.” 

He freed a hand and cradled her face. She leaned into his touch, into the warmth that batted away the cold, into the feeling that he really was here. And then he was leaning forwards, his breath fanning over her lips, and she closed the space between them with an eagerness that Impa would refer to as “unladylike”. His lips were soft and their kiss was slow and gentle, fanning a spark so that it blazed into a flame. In the years she had spent imagining how this reunion might go, she never quite got the magic of it right. It felt strong and peaceful, like something old and practiced but new and exciting all at once. And when they parted, Zelda was quick to recall that silly little promise.

“You meant to ask for knighthood,” she stated, a giddy feeling flooding her at the idea. “But how would you feel about prince consort?”

It was Link’s turn to laugh, and she laughed too as she closed a hand around the Moon’s Tear necklace glowing against her skin. Of course, they had a while to catch up on before any official announcement could be made. They were not granted the opportunity to grow into their relationship, and now was a better time than any to get started. 

Her Hero had returned, and Zelda quite liked the idea of never having to face any of the men who tried to win her hand ever again. Apparently, it was made evident enough by their return to the ballroom floor. 

Link had asked for a dance, after all. Who was she to deny him after so long?

[hanaasbananas]

A Little Love

This is my @mlwritersguild Valentine fic for @epcot97!!

It's not super long, but I had to split it into parts for narrative reasons so...

Part Two, Part Three

AO3

It began, as things often did in Paris, with an akuma attack.

Marinette had found that the employees at Gabriel were particularly susceptible to akumatisation, especially right after they’d had a meeting with Monsieur Agreste himself, and she’d come to anticipate them.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t be caught off guard though. With fashion week only a few days away, and so much work still to do, she’d sequestered herself away with the designs and sewing supplies, not noticing the akuma until it was too late.

Shitshitshit she thought hysterically, scrabbling to reach for her purse as she crawled behind the

overturned table for temporary shelter, her mind racing, eyes darting around wildly as she tried to find a way to escape. Oh, why had she chosen to work in the one place with only one exit?   Could she transform here? She briefly entertained the notion, but no, it was too risky with the akuma right there and-

The table was ripped away from in front of her,  the akuma-apparently hell bent on destroying any and all Gabriel employees, from top designers to bottom of the barrel interns- bearing down on her, his lips stretching wide in an ugly sneer. He reached for her with sharp needle like fingers that she’d seen rip the door to shreds in seconds , and, resigned to her fate, Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, hoping somewhat futilely, she thought, that the pain would not last long.

She’d barely felt the whisper of his fingers on her skin when strong arms grabbed her, one wrapping tightly around her waist, the other underneath her knees. “Hold on!” Chat Noir yelled in her ear, securing his hold and lifting her up and away.

Marinette’s eyes flew open just in time to see them pass above the akuma who roared in fury, extending his arms to try and stop them, catching her leg and scoring a shallow cut all the way down her calf. Chat Noir didn’t set her down until he’d cleared the building and set her down at the entrance.

“Are you alright?” Chat gave her a quick once over, grasping her by the shoulders as she nodded, dazed and swaying on her feet. “Shit ,” he hissed, eyes alighting on her injured leg. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-I-” the building behind them trembled and he swore again, head whipping around to look up as the windows rattled, some of them shattering from the force.

“I need to-will you be alright?” Marinette saw the concern swimming in his green eyes, warring with the need to get back to the fight and she nodded, smiling faintly, though she suspected it looked more like a grimace.

“Go,” she urged him, “I’ll be fine.”

Chat opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment, another tremor ran beneath their feet, and with one last dubious look at her, he went back inside

***

It wasn’t until later that evening that Marinette saw Chat Noir again. She’d been ruminating on their encounter, remembering the feeling of his arms around hers, the sheer power she’d felt thrumming through him as he carried her to safety.

Marinette wasn’t blind , she knew that Chat was attractive-handsome, even. And he was her partner, the only one who truly understood the struggles that came with their dual identities. Perhaps if there had been someone in her civilian life, the pull might not have been as strong, but Marinette was tired of resisting, of holding herself back from him.

A movement across the street caught her eye and Marinette grinned. And she would start right now. She jumped up, ignoring how the tea she was holding sloshed over the sides of the mug from her quick movement.

“Chat Noir!” he barely stopped at her voice, slowing just enough to grin and wave before faltering as he saw her face.

Using his baton, Chat vaulted over to the balcony and perched on the railing. “Hey…” he trailed off, head tilting to one side curiously.

“Oh,” Marinette laughed, noting with interest the slight blush that dusted his cheeks. “I guess we didn’t have much time for  introductions earlier, huh? I’m Marinette.”

***

The arrest was discreet.

Father had asked for that much, in the end, speaking of a son who had nothing to do with his own schemes, and did not deserve to have his name tarnished.

Chat wanted to laugh, to ask where that care had been before, when his son had needed him, but instead he remained silent.

“We need to tell the son. Adrien, I think his name is.” Ladybug spoke up beside him, her voice subdued as they watched fath-no Hawkmoth being led away in disgrace. “He shouldn’t have to find out from the press, at least.”

“No.”

“What?” Chat averted his gaze when she turned to face him, “we have to tell him, Chaton.”

“Yes, I mean no , I-” he shook his head in frustration, trying to piece his jumbled thoughts together.

If Ladybug showed up to talk to Adrien, he didn’t think he’d be able to keep it together. He was barely holding on as it was, and distantly, he wondered if this was what a cataclysm felt like. Like all of his negative emotions: grief and hate and despair and rage, and rage and rage had been amplified tenfold, churning around inside him in a dark mass that threatened to consume him, to destroy him from the inside out.

“I meant…” he licked his lips “I’ll talk to him myself, you don’t have to. Go home, m’lady, it’s been a long night.”

“If you’re sure,” she turned his face to meet hers, worried blue eyes scanning over him and he nodded, mustering up a weak attempt at a smile.

Briefly, Chat contemplated visiting Marinette, but he dismissed the thought. In the past few weeks, she’d become a good friend to him, and he’d even caught himself thinking about seeking her out as a civilian, so that he might ask her out. But he knew that if he arrived on her balcony tonight, if he allowed himself to break, to crumble in her arms, he would certainly reveal his identity to her and then what would happen?

What would she think when she found out that the hero she had befriended, who she had allowed to visit her so often, had invited into her home and cared for, was the son of the supervillain who had terrorised Paris for years?

No, he couldn't handle a rejection tonight, no matter how well deserved. Not now.

“I’m sure.” Chat said instead.

“Well...okay then,” Ladybug hesitated a long moment before stepping on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can meet up somewhere to discuss…” she shrugged, seemingly at a loss “to discuss things, I guess?”

“Mhm.” He watched her go with a heavy heart, imprinting the image of her zipping across the skyline with her yo-yo, in his mind, a dull certainty settling like a heavy weight in his stomach.

Chat Noir would not be seeing Ladybug ever again.

***

A week after they’d defeated Hawkmoth -her boss! Marinette could hardly believe it, though she supposed that explained the amount of akumatisations that happened there-for the last time, Marinette found herself at the Eiffel tower, waiting-for the second time.

Looking over the small picnic she’d set up, she ran her fingers through her hair again, rearranging the set up for the fifth time that evening. The food she’d meticulously packed into the basket with the knowledge that it was Chat’s favourite had probably gone cold by now; the wine which had been cooling in a bucket of ice now sat in water, and still, Chat Noir was not there. 

Marinette wouldn’t give up though. Not now. She couldn’t. Flipping open her yo-yo, she called him, barely blinking when he didn’t pick up and it went to voicemail.

“Hey, Chaton, I just thought I’d call to say I’m at the Eiffel tower if you want to meet up, I’ve missed you, and well... I think it’s time we reveal our identities to each other. Call me back, okay?” 

She tried not to let her worry get the best of her-Chat had been acting strange after the last battle, maybe he’d come down with something and was sick, maybe he just needed time to adjust to the new normal. He hadn’t visited her balcony either, or she might have considered revealing herself to him there. 

Marinette shivered as the wind picked up, grabbing the picnic blanket and wrapping it around herself to keep warm. Whatever it was it didn’t matter; she’d wait as long as it took. 

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian season 2 ep 1 AGAIN! it’s the rewatch folks

- The entire last season reminder/intro scene is kind of clunky and we’re-hitting-you-over-the-head-with-this, but I think it’s important to note that it’s probably meant for the vast majority of people who watched this stuff once a wholeass year ago, and not for me, the crazy person who watched each episode at least five times lol

- 

I like the way mando & bb walk from darkness into brief light and back into darkness here... the directors keep finding such cool ways of using the armour cinematically, there must be some lighting considerations to be made when your main character is essentially a walking disco ball. I enjoy the mood of this planet too -- the distant lights, the way the sky isn’t quite dark like there’s a city providing some light pollution nearby (it’s a bit clearer as he walks further into the... town? that it’s not just sunset, the sky is lit up weirdly) 

also when din moves towards the camera and out of sight in this first appearance, the signet is the very last thing that leaves the frame! I just thought that was sweet, a clan of two :’)

- shotout to these two lads and their boldly absolutely inexplicable hat choices (I love gratuitous star wars crowd scenes you guys)

those tacky gold sequins on her sleeves... immaculate, beautiful, someone sat through like full body makeup application to be on screen a literal split second, that good good sw nonsense

- oh I didn’t notice before but I think those gladiator dudes are using vibroaxes! I guess they have the technology to portray it in live action now after the vibroblades in the first season

- the way bb glances up at din like ‘hey dad. dad what the fuck???’ as one gomorrean nearly chops the arm off the other fjaslfds

- when you look for it it’s comically obvious that those guys are working for the dude mando’s meeting, they’ve all got more or less the same dark uniform and don’t look much at the fight haha. they might as well have ‘hired thugs’ stamped upon their foreheads

- I like how pared down and spare the music is in this fight scene, it’s just the faint whine of the electric guitars under the thuds of meat hitting metal 

also still love how din fights, the fact that he doesn’t even try to not get hit a lot of the time, he’s just tanking through it waiting for someone to fling themselves at him in a way he can exploit to take them out

the bouncer seems to be holding something like sci-fi handcuffs when he grabs din and lifts him off his feet, so he probably meant to restrain him quickly. bonus: I didn’t notice it the first time around, but din really went straaaaaiiight for this dude’s gentleman area once he dropped him back on his feet lol (you can even see him taking a split second to orient himself and take aim first fhsdkfhas). good job space cowboy dad, sometimes fighting smart means fighting dirty

- leaving this awful dude hanging upside down to get eaten after employing some very deliberate phrasing so he’s not even breaking his word is the ruthless HEIGHT of mando’s hilarious petty streak and it makes me cackle, gives me life, waters my crops    

- oh, the palpable loneliness and longing in din’s voice when he says ‘if I can track down another of my kind’ ;_______; I’m sorry buddy

- may we speak for a moment about the fact that din carries his son around in what seems very much to be a saddle bag sdafjkhsa

- the way din checks in with peli (to see if she’s fucking with him? he’s very confused anyway haha) over the map before saying “I don’t see anything” is so precious. he already seems much more socially tuned in and responsive compared to the beginning of season 1, you love to see it, coming out of that freeze response baBEY

- I can’t get over how much the baby loves speed, this is coming back to bite you so hard if you’re ever going to have to teach this kid how to drive one day mando

- awwww the little patented mando finger curl as he enters the bar <3<3<3 that’s sort of his tell for being preoccupied/anxious; I think finding other mandos, someone to trust and to get help from, means A Lot to him  

once he sees the marshall in the armour his shoulders drop down and he stands up straighter :’) hope is a powerful thing (I guess all of this might add even more to how angry he is too)

the DEAD STOP when cobb takes the helmet off sdkfhkajsldhfsdk

- yodito putting his lil mouth on the lip of this jar thing is such a well observed little quirk of baby behaviour, I’m crying

(there is liquid of some sort in this thing; I’ve seen some people theorize it’s a spittoon but for my own peace of mind I’m going to forcefully declare that it is not thank you)

- so much stuff packed into that “He’s seen worse”!! dismissal, self-deprecation, sorrow, resignation, warning. 

- the contrast in this standoff of vanth’s eastwood eye twitch and the complete deadpan impassiveness of din’s helmet and general demeanor... wonderful  

- upon rewatching I’m actually wondering if some of these scenes with the baby on his own were filmed independently of the actors and that it might add to that slight distracting feeling of disconnect/distance you get through the episode. (it’s sort of odd to me that mando doesn’t even glance down at him as the whole place starts to shake, for example) there must be a lot of stuff that comes down to technical considerations with the baby; I suspect it takes a lot of time and resources to have him walking around too much, which is why The Waddle is kind of a rare treat   

what I’m saying is that they may be saving up dad & baby interaction resources for episodes where it’s more relevant or important

- so is this a one bantha town or is it just for convenient film language reasons it was all alone in frame like that lol

also cobb’s ‘mondays amirite’ look fdsakjfhsjk 

- since I think it every time I get to this part: this is a very neat hairstyle this person is rocking, suits them! 

- ah the stern pointer finger of emphasis. din TALKS, no, COMMUNICATES so much in this episode you guys!!!!! 

- rip this tusken, the bravest person who ever lived

- the delivery of “...they might be open to some fresh ideas” is the funniest moment of this entire episode don’t @ me

- oh the kotor-ness of it all lol

- jill (the girl who hands cobb the detonator) is so cute with her hat and everything ;____; 

- I suppose these tuskens are really the bravest people to ever live considering they saw what happened to the last guy (or gal I suppose I don’t know how sand people gender works)

- baby needs some goggles to protect his giant eyes from wind and sand Y___Y

- they’ve nailed how to make the jetpacks work in live action, it looks really cool and I suspect it easily could have uh. not 

- this poor sacrificial bantha... it even tried to get away

- ooooh the heart eyes -- cobb 100% has a crush on this man jfsdflhsad. (with it being sort of unrequited/’oh man I’m behind about 150 layers of dissociation too many to even really consider that one way or the other bud’ from mando’s side #personal headcanon disclaimer)    

- my take on why din doesn’t get dissolved in acid in there is that that stuff is released from a specific gland or something that the dragon can unleash at will and that the spit itself doesn’t have that quality on its own (or at least it’s a lot less potent) 

- seems pretty well confirmed by now that yodito is a carnivore huh hahaha

- I find it obscurely satisfying that cobb seems to be wearing exactly his old outfit under the armour -- he did just strap it on on top of what he already was. (there’s something there -- he’s a whole thing still without the armour, and at this time at least din would not be I don’t think) just some good narrative foil stuff going on here under the surface

also once again props to the costume design; without the armour he looks so vulnerable again, they have dressed him to emphasise his height and slenderness (especially compared to mando, who actually seems to have bulked up a bit? fatherhood suits him I guess)    

plus, the way the baby looks questioningly up at din while he watches cobb walk away? yeah, din is lonely, let this poor man have a friend who stays around soon T______________T

- heeey boba, nice threads! my guess is that he’s not going to be there for the armour if he does track din down, since he hasn’t seemed to be in any haste to get it back before (which is interesting!). he might also have been unable to go looking for it before because he was still recovering from being half digested, of course, they could play it a lot of different ways

I wonder if we’ll get more of him in the next ep or if they’ll let the tension ramp up through the season 

[cecilspeaks]

173 - The Hundred Year Play

Quoth the raven: [bird noises] Welcome to Night Vale.

Listeners, some exciting news from the world of theatre! The 100 year play is about to reach its final scene. Yes, this is the play that has been running continuously since 1920. Written by a brilliant playwright Hannah Hershman, designed to take exactly 100 years to perform. And the tireless volunteer of the Night Vale Players Playhouse have been going through those scenes, one after another, for decade upon decade. There’s little time to rehearse, for each hour brings new scenes and each scene will only be performed once the play moves on, in order to keep up with the tight schedule needed to execute the entire script before a century elapses.

It is a monumental work of theatre, but like all work, it must some day cease. Today, specifically. I will be in attendance at that historic moment, when the final scene is performed and the curtain closes on the 100 year play.   More soon, but first the news.

We bring you the latest on the lawsuit “The estate of Franklin Chen vs. the city of Night Vale”. As you know, this case has grown so large and complicated that I’ve not had the time to discuss it in my usual community radio broadcasts. But instead, have started a true crime podcast called “Bloody Laws, Bloody Claws: The Murder of Frank Chen”, in which I strive to get to the truth of just what happened on that fateful night when five-headed dragon Hiram McDaniels met Frank Chen, and then later Frank Chen’s body was found covered in burns and claw marks. It’s a confounding mystery. The Sheriff’s Secret Police announce that it seems really complicated and they’re not even gonna try to solve that sucker. “Oh, what?” a Secret Police spokesman muttered at an earthworm he found in his garden. “You want us to fail? You wanna see us fail? That’s why you want us to investigate this case, to see us fail at it?” The family of Frank Chen say they merely want the appropriate parties, in this case the city of Night Vale, Hiram McDaniels and an omniscient conception of God, to take responsibility for their part in this tragedy. The trial is now in its 10th month, and has included spirited re-enactments of the supposed murder by helpful Players Playhouse performers in between their work on the 100 year play. 3 changes of judge and venue due to “some dragon attacks and constant interruptions from a local audio journalist, who hosts a widely respected true crime podcast”. Still, with all this, we near a verdict. Judge Chaplin has indicated she will issue her ruling soon. “Like in the next year or so?” she said. “Certainly within 5 years. Listen, I don’t owe you a verdict, just because you’re paying me to do a job, you can’t rush me to do it. The verdict will be done when. It’s. Done.” Chaplin then huffed out of the courtroom followed by journalists shouting recommendations for episodes of their podcast to listen to.

I was present, you know, on opening night of the 100 year play. Ah, how the theatre buzzed! Of course this was partly the audience, thrilled to be at the start of such an unprecedented work, but mostly – it was the insects. The Night Vale Players Playhouse had quite a pest problem at the time, and still does. It’s difficult to do pest control when there is a 100 year long play being performed on stage at every hour of every day. The curtain opened those many years ago on a simple set of a studio apartment,  a kitchen, a cot, a window overlooking a brick wall. A man sits in the corner deep in thought. A doorbell rings. “Come in, it’s open,” the man says. A woman enters, flustered. She is holding a newborn. “There’s been a murder!” she says. “The victim was alone in a room, and all the doors and windows were locked. “My god!” the man says and springs up. “Who could have done this, and how?!” the woman tells him: “It turns out to be the gardener, Mr. Spreckle. He served with the victim in the war and never could forgive him for what happened there. He threw a venomous snake through an air vent.” The man sits back down, nodding. “Aah! So the mystery is solved.” As a playwright, Hannah Hershman did not believe in stringing up mysteries a second longer than was necessary. The baby in the woman’s arm stirs. “Shush, shush little one!” the woman says. The man looks out the window where he cannot see the sky. “It might look like rain,” he says. “Who knows?” Thus began a journey of 100 years.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today’s episode is sponsored by the Night Vale Medical Board, which would like to remind you that it is important to drink enough water throughout the day. Drink more water! Your body cannot function without water. Without water, you are just dust made animate. Water forms the squelching mud of sentience. Try to have at least ten big glasses of water. Not over the entire day, right now. See if you can get all ten of them down. Explore the capacity of your stomach. See if you can make it burst. You will either feel so much better, or an organ will explode and you will day painfully. And either one is more interesting than the mundane now. You should drink even more water than that. Wander out of your door, search the Earth for liquids. Find a lake and drain the entire thing, until the bottom feeders flop helplessly on the flatlands. Laugh slushingly as you look upon the destruction you have wrought. The power that you possess now that you are well hydrated. Move on from the lake and come to the shore of an ocean. All oceans are one ocean that we have arbitrarily categorized by language. The sea knows no separation, and neither will you when you lay belly down on the sand, put your lips against the waves and guzzle the ocean. The ocean is salty. It will not be very hydrating, so you’ll need to drink a lot of it. Keep going until the tower tops of Atlantis see sky again for the first time in centuries, until the strange glowing creatures of the deep-deep are exposed, splayed out from their bodies now that they no longer have the immense pressure of the ocean depths to keep their structure intact. And once you have drunk the oceans, turn your eyes to the stars. For there is water out there too, and you must suck dry the universe. This has been a message from the Night Vale Medical Board.

20 years passed without me thinking about the 100 year play. You know how it is. One day you’re an intern at the local radio station doing all the normal errands like getting coffee and painting pentacles upon Station Management doors as part of the ritual of the slumbering ancients. Then 20 years passes and everything is different for you. Your boss is gone and now you are a host of the community radio station, and there are so many new responsibilities and worries and lucid nightmares in which you explore a broken landscape of colossal ruins. So with all of that, I just kind of forgot the 100 year play was happening. But they were toiling away in there, doing scenes around the clock, building and tearing down sets at a frantic pace, trying to keep up with the script that relentlessly went on, page after page. And sometimes one of the people working on the play would wonder: how does this all end? But before they could flip ahead and look, there would be another scene that had to be performed and they wouldn’t have a chance. So no one knew how it ended. No one except Hannah Hershman, the mysterious author of this centennial play.

Soon after becoming radio host, during the reading of a Community Calendar, I was reminded that the play was still going on, and so decided to check in. I put on my best tux, you know it’s the one with the scales and the confetti canon. And then took myself to a night at the theatre. I can’t say what happened in the plot since that first scene, but certainly much had transpired. We were now in a space colony thousands of years from now, and the set was simple, just some sleek chairs and a black backdrop dotted with white stars of paint. A woman was giving a monologue about the distance she felt between the planet she was born on, which I believe was supposed to be Earth, and the planet she now stood on. I understood from what she was saying that the trip she had taken to this planet was one way, and that she would never return to the place she was born. “We… are… all of us… moved… by time,” she whispered in a cracked, hoarse voice. “Not… one of us dies… in the world… we were born into.” Sitting in my seat in that darkened theatre, I knew two facts with certainty. The first was that this woman had been giving a monologue for several days now. She wavered on her feet, speaking the entire four hours that I was there. And I don’t know how much longer she spoke after I left, but it could have been weeks. She was pale and her voice was barely audible, but there was something transfixing about it, and the audience sat in perfect silence, leaning forward to hear her words. The other fact I understood was that this woman was the newborn from the very first scene. Not just the same character, but the same actor. 20 years later, she was still on that stage, still portraying the life to the child we had been introduced to in the opening lines. She was an extraordinary performer, presumably, having had a literal lifetime of practice. And that was the last time I saw the play, until tonight, when I will go to watch the final scene.

But first, let’s have a look at that Community Calendar. Tonight the school board is meeting to discuss the issues of school lunches. It seems that some in power argue that it isn’t enough that for some reason we charge the kids actual money for these lunches. They argue that the students should also be required to give devotion and worship to a great glowing cloud, whose benevolent power will fill their lives with purpose. Due to new privacy rules, we cannot say which member of the school board made this suggestion. The board will be taking public comment in a small flimsy wooden booth out by the highway. Just enter the damp, dark interior and whisper your comment, and it will be heard. Perhaps not by the school board, but certainly by something.

Tuesday morning, Lee Marvin will be offering free acting classes at the rec center. The class is entitled “Acting is just lying. We’ll teach you how acting is just saying things that aren’t true, with emotions you don’t feel, so that you may fool those watching with these mistruths.” Fortunately, Marvin commented: “Most people don’t want to be told the truth and prefer the quiet comfort of a lie well told.” Classes are pay what you want, starting at 10,000 dollars.

Thursday Josh Crayton will be taking the form of a waterfall in Grove Park, so that neighborhood kids may swim in him. There is not a lot of swimming opportunities in a town as dry as Night Vale, and so this is a generous move on Josh’s part. He has promised that he has been working on the form and has added a water slide and a sunbathing deck. He asks that everyone swim safely and please not leave any trash on him.

Friday, the corn field will appear in the middle of town, right where it does each September, as the air turns cooler and the sky in the west takes on a certain shade of green. The corn field emanates a power electric and awful. Please, do not go into the corn field, as we don’t know what lives in there or what it wants. The City Council would like to remind you that the corn field is perfectly safe. It is perfect and it is safe. 

Finally, Saturday never happened. Not if you know what’s good for you. Got it? This has been the Community Calendar.

Oh! Look at the time. Here I am blathering on and the play is about to end. OK, let me grab my new mini recorder that Carlos got me for my birthday. It’s only 35 pounds and the antenna is a highly reasonable 7 feet. And I’ll see you all there.

Ah. What’s the weather like for my commute?

[Shallow Eyes” by Brad Bensko. https://www.bradbenskomusic.com/]

Carlos and I are at the theatre! The audience is a buzz, with excitement yes, but also many of them are the insects that infest this theatre. The bugs became entranced by the story over the years, passing down through brief generation after brief generation, the history of all that happened before. The story of the play became something of a religion to this creepy crawly civilization. And so now the bugs are jittering on the walls, thrilled to be the generation that gets to see the end of this great tale.

The curtain rises on a scene I recognize well. It is the simple set of a studio apartment. A kitchen, a cot, a window overlooking a brick wall. A man sits in the corner deep in thought. A doorbell rings. “Come on, it’s open,” the man calls. A woman enters. She is very old, tottering unsteadily on legs that have carried for her many many years. “Please take my seat,” the man says with genuine concern. “Thank you,” she says, collapsing with relief onto the cushions and then looking out, as if for the first time, noticing the audience. I know this woman. I first saw her as a baby and later as a 20-year-old. It seems she has lived her whole life on this stage, taking part in this play. “My name,” the woman says, “is Hannah Hershman. I was born in this theatre, clutching a script in my arms that was bigger than I was. My twin, in a way. I started acting in that script of mine before I was even aware of the world. I grew up in that script, lived my entire life in the play I had written from infancy to now.” And she rises, and the man reaches out to help, but she waves him away. She speaks, her- her voice is strong, ringing out through the theatre. “The play ends with my death, because the play is my life. It is bounded by the same hours and minutes that I am.” the audience is rapt, many have tears in their eyes. Even the insects weep. “Thank you for these hundred years,” Hannah Hershman says. “This script is complete.” She walks to the window. “It might look like rain,” she says. “Who knows?” The lights dim.

Thunderous applause, cries of acclaim, and Hannah Hershman dies to the best possible sound a person can hear: concrete evidence of the good they have done in the lives of other humans.

Stay tuned next for the second ever Night Vale Players Playhouse production, now that they finally finished this one. They’re going to do “Godspell”. And from the script of a life I have not yet finished performing, Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Many are called, but few are chosen. And fewer still pick up. Because most calls are spam these days.

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog  Ch.4-6

This arc is called “Sword Dancer”, and I have no idea why, since they never call Anderson’s weapons anything other than “blades”.   Are they swords?   Maybe, but you never see him dance.  

The story starts at an orphanage, where Alexander Anderson is a priest there, settling a fight between two boys.   He sounds gentle and patient at first, until he tells them that the only thing they should be fighting are demons and heathens.   That pretty much sums up the character.   His mercy and compassion are almost entirely confined to the membership of the Catholic Church.   

Then another priest shows up and informs him of all the vampire incidents going on in the U.K.  Anderson doesn’t much care, since it only means more dead Protestants, right?  Except this latest incident is happening in Northern Ireland.  

So this neatly sets up one of the major conflicts within Hellsing.  Kouta Hirano took the vampire lore from Dracula and expanded it into a sort of 20th Century Cold War thing.   Instead of a single vampire hunter using crosses and holy water, we have an entire government agency, a secret service steeped in religious imagery.    But that religion isn’t a homogeneous thing.   Christendom has splintered a few times over the centuries.   Most notably, there was the East-West Schism of 1054, which saw the Eastern Orthodox Church separated from the Roman Catholic, and the Protestant Reformation that began in 1517.

I’m not sure how much research Kouta Hirano did into this topic, because he seems to have distilled the whole thing down into two major vampire-hunting groups, the Catholic “Section XIII” also known as the “Iscariot Organization”, and the Protestant Hellsing Organization.   Hellsing only bothers with vampire stuff in the United Kingdom, while Catholic Ireland is under the protection of the Iscariots.

Presumably, the Iscariots are tasked with protecting other Catholic nations as well, and maybe other Protestant countries have their own vampire-hunting sqauds to mirror Hellsing, but this overlooks the bigger issue: Catholics and Protestant populations don’t just fit neatly inside of political borders.   There’s plenty of Catholics inside Great Britain, for example, so it’s kind of glib for Anderson to write off British casualties as “not my problem”.  

And I think Hirano recognizes this, which is how Northern Ireland ends up in this story.    All of Ireland was British territory until 1921, when it was partitioned.   Southern Ireland became an independent nation, while Northern Ireland wanted to remain in the U.K., so it did.   This has caused no small amount of conflict in the decades since, and Hirano uses it here rather effectively.    There’s a treaty between Iscariot and Hellsing, one that recognizes Northern Ireland as their territory, but Iscariot still sees a duty to protect the minority Catholic population.  

So Anderson is sent to deal with the vampire attack at Badrick (or “Patrick” depending on who’s translating, and if he runs into Hellsing, well that’s too bad for them.    Despite the treaty, Iscariot considers themselves to be the morally superior group, so they won’t back down if confronted.  

From all of this, I get the sense that the normal relations between these two groups sort of depends on the rarity of vampire attacks.    There’s a lot of unsettled issues between them, but as long as nothing happens in disputed zones like Northern Ireland, everyone sort of minds their own business. 

Anyway, it’s now August 15, and Hellsing is indeed intervening in Patrick.   I never understood why Alucard had Seras sitting outside while he fought the ghouls in this house, especially when he was just going to call her in later.  But now it makes more sense to me.    He went in expecting to kill the vampire inside, and she’s outside to shoot down anyone who tries to escape, just like in Chapter 3.   Except Al found more ghouls inside than he bargained for, and he finds this dull, so he’s calling an audible and bringing Seras in to handle them instead.  

And this marks the debut of Seras’s Hellsing uniform.    In the anime, she gets this look pretty much from the start, so it’s weird to see her wearing pants in Chapter 3.   I assume she’s wearing pants in Chapter 2, but we don’t see her lower body in that.   My head canon is that she was still wearing her old police gear up until Chapter 4, while this uniform was still being tailored.   

I have mixed feelings about the design.    My first time seeing Seras was a cosplay photo, and I dug the idea of a vampire soldier.   Once I found out Hellsing was all about weaponizing vampires, I got into it pretty quickly.   And I found out Seras started out as a police officer, and that seemed really cool.   Like Alucard would handle all the spooky blood licking stuff, and she would dust for fingerprints and use pencils to pick up guns.   The uniform implies a professional discipline, the sort of thing that would set it apart from the almost casual villainy I find in vampire shows like Buffy or what-have-you. 

But, the artwork tends to make this look ridiculous, because Hirano keeps drawing it like it’s skin-tight around the boobs.   I don’t understand why he keeps doing this, since you don’t normally see it on the other women characters in this story.    Unless the idea is to set Seras apart from the others, which I can sort of understand.    Seras is the sidekick, and to a certain extent, she’s supposed to look kind of silly.   Even in this heroic pose, there’s still something goofy about her, like she can’t quite achieve full dignity yet.   Maybe this is supposed to be like Robin wearing the short pants until 1991, but I never really cared for that creative choice either.   

So she starts going to town, and Alucard takes a lunch break while she’s at it, which is a cool moment that didn’t make it into the anime.   He reminds her that the ghouls have to be killed expediently using shots to the heart or head.   That one who fell down the steps was still moving, you see, so Al had to finish him off.

And this is where Seras first addresses Al as “Master”.  This was one of the first scenes I found when I started trying to find out more about the character.  At first, it seemed like Seras was all business, but then you get stuff like this, where she’s doing the creepy vampire bit as well.    I like the way Hellsing approaches this.    Seras is gradually adjusting to being a vampire, and she isn’t always aware of that adjustment as it happens.   It seems like combat helps her get into that zone.   Early on, Seras would seem to change into a berzerker state, then snap out of it.   Except she never snaps out of calling Alucard “Master”.  

This is the start of that hard-to-define relationship between the pair.  Remember, the Cheddar Priest said she would have free will as a vampire, but she defers to Alucard anyway.    Before, that just seemed to be a practical matter.  She recognized Alucard as a superior officer, and as a mentor figure.   But now it seems more fanatical. 

Watching the anime, I was suspicious of Alucard’s intentions, because... well why wouldn’t I be?    He’s fucking Dracular for pete’s sake.   I thought maybe he was angling for some chance to escape from Hellsing’s control, and maybe Seras was part of his plan.  Scenes like this didn’t exactly dissuade me from that notion.  Seras got some ghoul blood on her, and she finds herself compelled to eat it, and he’s looking on very excitedly.    But then she gets impaled through the neck, and that puts an end to that.

Back at headquarters, Integra gets word that the Iscariots have send Alexander Anderson to Barick, and she realizes that this could escalate into a major incident.   No one at Hellsing seems to know much about Anderson, except that he’s powerful, and if he runs into Alucard it could be a major battle.  

This page marks the first appearance of Walter C. Dornez, whom she calls for consultation.   I find it odd that Walter has already received the same report, and has already taken steps to deal with it.   Almost like he expected something like this to happen...? 🤔 🤔 🤔 🤔 

As it turns out, Anderson’s already there.   He’s the one who impales Seras with a bunch of blades/swords/bayonets/whatever, and he already killed the vampire that Alucard was sent to find.    As far as Anderson’s concerned, the only thing left to do is kill Alucard and Seras, but Al shoots him in the head before he can really get started.    But as he goes to remove the holy blades from Seras, Anderson gets back up for Round Two.

Alucard calls him a “Regenerator”, like this is a thing he’s encountered before.   Anderson’s not just a priest with blessed weapons, he’s got special powers that the Vatican gave him for the purpose of hunting vampires.  Then he stabs Alucard a bunch of times and prepares to cut off his head for good measure, until Polnareff jumps in and... no, wait, wrong story.   Yeah, Andy just chops his head off, then goes to finish off Seras.  

Except Seras got away.    Somehow she got up and lumbered off while he wasn’t looking, pulled out all the knives in her back, and then managed to double back and fetch Alucard’s head.   Trouble is, she still can’t get out of the house, because Anderson set up a mystical barrier using sheets of paper.   Boy, that’d suck if you touched a wall and it shocked you.  Seras probably won’t forget this moment....

Then Al’s head is like “Ight Imma head out,” and melts into a puddle of blood. 

The blood then arranges itself into words, which tell Seras to drink the blood, as this will make her into a “true” vampire, instead of a “servant” vampire, which I guess is what she is now.   And this is also the first time we learn Seras’ true name.   Everyone had been calling her “Police Girl” up until this point.   

Although, one might argue from this scene that this is not her original name, and perhaps it’s a brand new name Alucard invented for her, one that she has to earn by willfully drinking blood.   I’m pretty sure this was disproven by later flashbacks to Seras’ childhood, but it’s fun to think about.    Maybe we never knew her human name.   Maybe she doesn’t even remember it.

But before Seras can make that choice, Integra shows up with a couple of guards and tells Anderson to stand down.   He kills the guards, and promises to finish her off as well, but she tells him that Alucard can’t be killed with a simple decapitation.   

Also, Seras is back up.  She hasn’t consumed Al’s blood, but she does pick up a gun to defend Integra, which is pretty cool.   See?  She looks badass here, maybe because you can’t see her anime boobs in this shot.  

Anderson still likes his chances, until Alucard starts to reassemble his body.   Unlike other vampires, stabbing Al through the heart and cutting off his head aren’t enough to kill him.   This is because of... something the Hellsing family did to him over the past century.  I don’t think it gets spelled out in this story, but it’s heavily implied that the Van Hellsing from the Dracula novel defeated Dracula and then enslaved him, and his family line has been modifying him ever since to turn him into their anti-vampire weapon.    And a big part of that involves making him stronger than the typical vampire. 

So Anderson withdraws, but only because he now sees he’ll need a bigger boat.  Alucard tells Integra that Seras’s performance was “the usual”, which is funny considering how pleased he was with her before.    Also he scolds her for not drinking his blood, and calls her a coward when she asks to be addressed by her name.   One way or another, the theme here is that Seras has to earn a name.   The way she is now, Al doesn’t seem to think she needs one.

Volume 1 ends with some notes by Kouta Hirano, including the part about how Alucard and Anderson never seem to run out of weapons.   Cosmoguns? Fourth dimensional priests?   I’m beginning to think this manga about super-powered vampires may not be entirely realistic.

Since chapters 1-6 aren’t quite big enough to fill out a collected edition, Hirano also includes a backup feature called “Cross Fire”, which he produced for “a defunct comic master”.    He calls this a “springboard for Hellsing”, which isn’t hard to see, since it features the Iscariot Organization, including Enrico Maxwell, Heinkel Wolfe, and Yumiko Takagi, who show up later in Hellsing.

This short helps me understand these characters a lot better, because when I watched the anime, Wolfe and Yumiko just seemed to show up out of nowhere, with no explanation given.    I think it was assumed that you would have read the manga collections first, and would know who they were.   Anyway, they’re both nun assassins.   Heinkel dresses like a man and uses guns, while Yumiko weilds a sword, but only when he “berzerker” personality, named “Yumie” is activated.   In this story, she’s actually among the hostages that the duo were sent to protect, but Heinkel shows up and knocks her unconscious, which prompts her to wake up as Yumie and they killerize everyone.   

I’m not sure if the Cross Fire stories are considered canon or not.   The characters show up in Hellsing later, but not quite the same as before.  So maybe these are prototypes rather than the real things.  Maxwell, in particular, looks a lot like Integra here, to the point where I thought he might be a woman in this version.   But the Heinkel/Yumiko team bears a strong resemblance to Alucard and Seras working together in Chapters 4-6, so it’s not hard to see the connection. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs,, “The Promise.”

A continuation in the Burg war arc. I especially like where the last part is leading me, super excited to write the next one. 

She could hear the sound of jets overhead, a distant roaring that turned into a scream and then back to a roar as the sleek alien crafts cut overhead. She had landed by shuttle with a group of marines not a few minutes ago, and had already taken over command. As chief weapons officer aboard ship she saw it as her duty to prepare them for battle. 

Off the books she was also an unofficial officer, but in charge of the Delta units (Drev) and the marines. Out of everyone on the ship she may have been second in line , behind her brother, regarding combat experience, but she did know more about human/other relations and their equipment. 

Even so, she brought Cannon with her to supervise and give his advice as they went along. His mechanical leg brace clicked and hissed as they hurried through their makeshift FOB. They were about half a mile outside the city, with Rundi, Tesraki, and Humans landing continuously to augment their troops. The fighting in orbit had drawn to a close with the Gromm retreating to the edge of the system.

Their job wasn’t to cripple the GA fleet though. Their job had been to simply breach the nexus and get one or two ships down onto the home planet where they would be in range of the Gromm capital City. They had done what they had come to do and so withdrew, it wouldn't matter if they managed to cripple the fleet, if they could just appear wherever they wanted without intervention by any other species.

On the ground, the Gromm forces had been mobilized, but looking over the state of their troops, sunny had to admit that she was not particularly impressed. Their understanding of war was rudimentary at best, and their physical constitutions were hardly conducive to war. The Gromm were a sort of gelatinous slime-covered species that required a lot of water to maintain their homeostasis, so their ability for drawn-out conflicts was sketchy.

The roaring of another jet thundered overhead, and Sunny lifted her head towards the sky. The F-90 darkfire roared past them low and on the right. The pilot was taking it risky and cutting very low along the ground, less than  a hundred feet, but as they did gunfire and missiles streaked away and forward completely annihilating an entire  row of advancing burg forces, just let loose from the amber dome that now covered  their original ship.

The jet banked low and to the left, cutting around the side, chased by drones on at least two sides as it tried to find a weakness in the outer shell of the dome. A single missile was fired, and Sunny watched in great interest as the projectile shot forward and then rammed into the shield.

A bright, amber circle erupted from the point of impact causing waves of power to pulse out in ripples.

The missile itself exploded on impact sending shrapnel out and away from the dome giving the pilot just moments for a tight roll.

The maneuver was so fast, that the following burg drones either didn’t have the time or the skill to respond, and both fell to the ground in wave of crashing heat.

Sunny smiled to herself, as much as a Drev could smile.

Despite being a human she was pretty sure that Adam had been born to fly. Perhaps whatever deity or spirit had made him hadn’t given him wings knowing specifically what kind of power he would possess if that was the case.

The jet pulled in a slow parabola around the opposite side of the dome and then came shooting back towards them.

Anti Air artillery took out any of the burg ships that dare venture to far into the friendly zone, and so the commander made it away scott free from harm.

How did she know it was Adam?

She could just feel it.

Also 110% because he was totally the best pilot up there, and the maneuvers he had pulled made that pretty clear. The jet circled once, then twice before slowing, landing deftly on a major piece of infrastructure, now abandoned by all nonessential gromm travelers. Sunny and Cannon jogged across their little base and approached the slowly rolling jet.

A few of the marines had taken it upon themselves to clear a space for incoming aircraft, and though they weren’t exactly trained in such things, they were smart enough to get the ball rolling bringing the commander to a stop just off the roadway. 

Now that the burg had pulled back and were keeping a tight defense around their dome, the other jets had pulled away as well, and a few came in to land. 

The canopy of the et opened just as sunny and Cannon were approaching, and she watched as the commander slipped from the front seat easily sliding down the ladder that had been provided. His companion was somewhat less steady on his feet wobbling down the ladder and then awkwardly tipping onto one knee as he hit the ground 

The commander turned to face them, still wearing his helmet but allowing the oxygen mask to hang to one side as he absently adjusted the hooks and harness  on the rest of his flight suit.

“Casualty report?”

All business, just like their military leaders back home. 

The facial expression he wore, at first, seemed distinctly not-Adam jaw set lips pulled into a hard line head held high eyes hard, but the closer she looked into the single nonmechanical green eye the more she sensed her friend in there.

“Counting all the casualties from the Esperanca, pilots, and ground forces around 211 fatalities and another 100 injuries at least half of those being serious.

Sunny watched carefully, saw as the corner of the man’s mouth twitched, watched the fiery spark in his remaining eye flicker and dim a bit. Though he didn’t show it, not in any meaningful way, Sunny knew him well enough to know the agony those words must have caused him, an internal pain that would be building up in him for a long while silently festering on his insides.

Adam was an amazing soldier.

But he wasn’t meant for war.

He had too much of a heart for it.

“First thing’s first, I want a triage tent set up for our wounded. Get Krill to wherever the most medical action is and make sure he stays there to help. The second place gets doctor Katie, and so on and so forth using all the available medical staff we have on hand. Someone get a message to Conn, and have him come down here. If we can get him close enough to one of these, we may be able to learn about troop movements. Sunny, I want you to make a call to the GA and get in contact with the Drev representative, the burg command ship is pretty large and recruit McCaster, quick thinker as he is, managed to do a scan of the ship as we passed. Looks like they tried to cram an entire army into that thing. I thought I got a good hit on them earlier, but that is less than a fraction of what is inside, and that isn't including artillery, ground vehicles, and drones. I’m hoping the Drev will be willing to help us win a war.”

“If there is one thing you can count on my species to do, it is to fight in a war.” Sunny said 

He nodded his head sharply, “In the meantime, I want to take the lull and set up the camp in the most efficient way possible, I want Artillery and ground forces spread out to greatest feasibility without compromising the line. I want to make sure they can’t take us out with one lucky shot. I want snipers on the ridges over there and there, and I want at least two jetts, drones or UFOs patrolling the sky at all times. See if we can't call into the GA and get ourselves some kind of shield, or the Gromm city for that matter. Just as many shields as possible.” He pulled off the helmet tucking it under one arm as he began to walk, “If anyone knows absolutely anything about the Gromm shield, I want to know about it. How do they go in, how do they go out, how long can it last, and how much firepower do I have to hit it with before it disrupts, or if there IS any firepower than can handle it.”

“We already have our people on it, sir.”

This was another voice sunny didn’t recognize, and the group of them turned around to see another human jogging up fro the interior of the camp.

“Sorry sir, I couldn’t help but overhearing. I was supposed to bring the news to you anyway. We have GA members that say they are familiar with the technology. It’s an energy shield that is designed to incorporate the kinetic energy of a projectile into its own power output. The more we hit it, the stronger it is going to get until there is no way to breach it.

“Than what the hell are we supposed to do.” 

“That’s just it sir, the design is great in theory, but the way it is made, it wouldn’t allow anyone in or out, and that tends to include air particles as well. If you stayed there long enough you would suffocate, so they need holes large enough for ventilation and for their people and weapons to go in and out. Inside the shield  they have collapsible portals that can be opened or closed fro both the inside or the outside.”

“So, theoretically if we were to get close enough, we could just walk right in.”

“Precisely sir, though that would reduce us to close quarters combat on their turf without the assistance of air support also leaving you trapped in an area with alien ship that contains a few thousand or more burg soldiers just raving for blood.”

The commander sighed, “Just excellent.” 

The man nodded and stepped away,

However, the commander held up a hand to stop him, “Tell your scientists to take a look into whatever other technology they might have. I want to know everything we can before we begin a ground assault. Preferably I want them to come to us, and I want  to thin out their lines before they show up.”

“Yes, sir.” The man hurried off leaving Sunny and the Commander to walk together through their little base and towards the operations tent where, seemingly all the officers had agreed to set up camp.

They allotted as the commander entered placing his flight helmet on the makeshift table and turning to his officers.

“Tell me everything we know, and lay it out for me as we know it. Don’t leave anything out.”

The man started with the casualty report and losses. Sunny glanced at Adam, who, again made sure to show no signs of how the news affected him.

“Based on the calculations sent from your scan sir, we reasonably estimate a body count somewhere in five thousand just on that ship alone. Judging from early estimates of casualties based on volume and square space. Maybe 200 of those 5,000 dead. As far as their artillery goes they seem to have one artillery unit per every 100 individuals giving us 50 units five of them having been destroyed out of the ten that were originally deployed. We do not think that this ship is meant to make it out of this alive. Clearly, we are under the impression their job is to get in and get the information by whatever means necessary.” He pointed out towards the looming burg ship, “Everyone on that ship is likely to have been put on a suicide mission. They will have no fear and no qualms about what they are doing. Their best bet is to do one mass attack and push forward through our lines. If they do that, there is no way that we can stop them other than with mass casualties.”

There was silence around the tent.

“What you’re saying is, we have no chance of stopping them?”

“Realistically, commander, not if they are doing what I think they are going to do. They don’t care about the civilians in the city, and they don’t care about us. If they attack all at once we WILL be overwhelmed, and we will be overwhelmed quickly. They will make it into the city, and they will have the warp codes before we can do anything about it. Once those codes are in their hands they will have the ability to attack any target in the known universe within reason. Of course earth, the GA the Tesraki and the Rundi will be difficult targets owing to our defense systems, but other more rudimentary planets will not be so lucky. The Tvek, dead, the Finnari, dead, the Celzex, dead, the Drev, dead…. He paused and looked to sunny and Cannon, you get the picture.”

“We can’t let them get that far.” The commander mumbled.

“No, we can’t. It will, likely, take them a day or two to organize an advance at that scale. So they are vulnerable from now until nearing the beginning of the attack.

“What are our options?’

“Well, the one good thing about being inside that dome is that they are cramped together in such a tight space that any chain explosion could potentially annihilate them all in one go. Though whoever went in would have to be fast, agile, good at close combat, and almost indestructible.”

The commander sighed looking up at the tent ceiling with a sick expression on his face, “So we have less than two days to come up with a crack team of demolition experts who are fast, agile, and trained in close combat to go in there on a suicide mission and blow up the dome before the burg can mobilize enough troops to wipe us all out, and cause mayhem across the galaxy.”

“Not entirely so, sir. We have access to GA shield technology, so you would have that added protection.”

The commander paused staring out at the field of combat eye burning with the pain of a difficult decision, “If we don’t do this, the entire universe is in danger. I cant believe someone didn’t notice this massive security breach. Giving the groom access to all those condones i none space was foolhardy at best and criminally negligent at worst, and now I have one day to come up with an idea to-” He paused 

And in him sunny saw something.

The fire flared again though his face contorted for a microsecond into a mask of absolute agony, sadness and disgust. He shook himself, “I need to make a call. I think I have an idea.” 

He turned around to march off, “Lieutenant, take command.”

“Yes sir.”

Sunny followed after him, catching up halfway to a shuttle catching his arm with one of her four.

“Adam, are you ok? What’s wrong.”

He jerked his arm away from her, and she stepped back in surprise caught off guard.

He turned to look at her and his expression softened, “I’m sorry, I just. I have to do something that…. I don’t want to do.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you.”

She was confused now, “Why not!”

The pain in his expression was only growing more palpable, “Because you would never let me if you knew.”

“Shouldn't I just stop you anyway then?” 

His expression was now one of open pain, “Sunny, don’t talk me out of it because I WILL take you up on it, but you have to trust this is the only way.”

“I’m sure you're just exaggerating.”

“Maybe I am.” the man whispered, “But it’s the only solution I have.”

She growled in frustration, “Then just tell me, and we can talk it out together! I can help.

He looked away, “I can’t trust you not to be biased.”

She crossed her arms, “And you can?”

“Sunny, this is going to happen whether you agree or not. So which side do you want to be on?”

They locked eyes, and despite his words of harshness she saw no malice in his face, and to her surprise she could see that.

He was afraid.

Where once pain had covered up fear, she could see it rearing its ugly head.

His cheek twitched.

“Please.” He was begging now, and it made her sick to watch.

It hurt.

“Adam… I, whatever it is you don’t have to do it alone.”

He looked at her with a steady expression, “Do you promise?”

She nodded.

“I promise.” 

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 9: The Potions Master

"Oh this is perfect!" Peter burst out with surprised laughter the moment he'd caught his breath back from the stone room spinning about. "Slughorn's office, couldn't have asked for better!"

"What were you two talking about over there?" Sirius demanded with a slight pout, rubbing furiously at his head and so looking more cross-eyed than anything when he saw Regulus nodding appreciatively at their surroundings as well.

"Where are we?" Remus noted as he began looking around in detail, stretching and sitting up with a small frown.

The office wasn't designed to have eight random students be plopped into it, and those were the most obvious at first. James had landed in the chair with such force he toppled it over, sending the robes that had been hanging on the back to pool beneath him but doing nothing to cushion the fall. Evans had landed hard on the desk and upset a bottle of ink, while the other six had simply crashed to the ground in the little available walking space, Alice nearly in the fireplace with a hateful mutter, "this isn't feeling any better every time!"

They all got to their feet though with more winces to see what Remus meant, and found the not so subtle signs. The desk took up the majority in a spacious room, so it looked more menacing than any office they'd been in. The walls were lined with jars full of pickled things, Lily immediately identifying four of them. They were clearly somewhere in the dungeons with no natural lighting, the place echoed with almost as much emptiness as the immense hall before.

"I think we're in Snape's office?" Regulus said, having to dig the book out from under the desk and flipping to the next chapter.

"What do you mean he got an office?" Sirius scoffed.

"Do you expect them to give him a cupboard when he became the Potions teacher?" Remus rolled his eyes for that one.

"Or how about asking, so we're really traveling through time?" Frank muttered clearly to himself. The Dursleys house before had been ominous but still something outside their world, this was a place in their school that should not exist yet.

"Next chapter's all about him, so it looks like we'll find out," Regulus inserted when he read as much, and even Alice and Frank couldn't garner up any kind of good mood at the idea of this, but at least their slight grimaces were kind to the other four making exaggerated, pained expressions.

Lily simply looked radiant, wondering if she could convince the little Black to give this chapter up, but he was already going.

The start wasn't as bad as they would have thought, listening to Harry go through his classes for the first time was something they all knew well so it was much like their experiences with the last few chapters. It came to no one's surprise gossip was following Harry around, and James at least was excited to hear, whether intentionally or not, of Harry trying to get into that forbidden room just to find out himself what was in it, and they all had a good laugh at the bits Filch made an appearance in.

Most of the classes were as unmemorable as their own firsts after so many years, the only highlight being they all laughed at McGonagall still showing off to the first years, though she'd switched from a cow as in their year to a pig this time.

The Marauders couldn't help but give a mocking laugh to the idea it had taken Harry so long to get down to the Great Hall without getting lost, while Frank made a face in sympathy for the kid as it had taken him a week.

Lily couldn't help a pleased smile that Hagrid was still giving Harry such attention even in school, though she wasn't quite sure what the motive was for this considering Harry clearly now had a friend. She tried to tell herself she was acting paranoid, but it wasn't helping her feelings of unease grow worse when Regulus got to the last class.

For once, James wasn't paying much attention to her, especially her growing frustration at someone other than him for once as he watched his friends. Sirius was shuffling his feet with guilt the moment Snape appeared properly in full detail, but at least Remus was frowning at him rather than avoiding looking at him.

"I thought you two had cleared the air on this?" He muttered, unsure how much of a wasted effort that was and if he was going to be heard anyways.

Clearly thinking of the same, Remus chose his words carefully, "we, made our grievances clear, and it, ah, made some other things come out that we needed to talk about-"

"Look Remus," Sirius' impatience pushed through Remus' awkwardness, "I did a stupid thing, and I apologize. Now you are very well aware I didn't mean it, and clearly it's had no impact on this gits life," he finished with disdain when Regulus just kept dishing out the snide comments from Snape in this future.

Remus nodded his agreement to this, giving him an awkward smile and James hoped they were done lingering on this already. "Was that really all it took for you two?" He couldn't help but mutter in exasperation, but honestly he was more than happy seeing the two smiling at each other again, he just wanted things back to normal.

It helped that Peter chose that moment.

Nothing so grandiose as some of their setups they'd done in the past, but Peter wasn't doing this to impress anyone either. He just hadn't quite decided Sirius needed to be let back into the fold without some kind of revenge, so in perfect synchronization as if they'd planned it, he and Regulus raised their wands and intentionally combined two perfect spells that had a pipe line above Sirius temporarily dump down onto him.

There was a blast of icy cold water that sprayed only him, and then it was repaired as suddenly as it had started, leaving Sirius apparently one who'd rolled around in half cleaned seaweed on its way to the lake.

"Thank you Wormtail," Sirius said as it continued dripping down him, he even had to spit a bit of it out of his mouth before he could continue, "for finally getting that over with."

"You knew I was going to do that?" Peter protested.

"You are many things my friend," Sirius rubbed carefully to get a particularly slimy chunk of green out of his eyes, "subtle is not one of them."

Peter raised his hands in surrender but went over and offered Sirius the robes which he gratefully accepted to start wiping at his nose.

When he sneezed and a bit more flew out, Lily couldn't suppress it anymore and burst out laughing.

James looked over wildly and found her leaning up against the farthest shelf, her face bright red and holding her sides.

"Oh, so you do think we're funny?" He eagerly jumped at the chance to parlay with her in such a suddenly good mood.

She didn't answer for a moment even as her giggles subsided, nor did she plan to as she'd rather swallow that nasty concoction rather than admit why she'd laughed so hard.

It should have been impossible, it certainly made no sense to her to hear the way Sev was treating a kid, no matter who Harry looked like. She'd been growing steadily more outraged at the treatment of these children, and the blow he'd dished out to Neville just now in making it his and Harry's fault for a potion exploding was honestly the worst thing she'd ever heard any person do, let alone her best friend!

She'd wanted to scream, she wanted him in her face right this second to explain that this was all just a cruel idea of a joke and he was going to turn into that kind and attentive friend she knew so well any second, she'd had so many things building up in her for a solid few minutes that when she'd watched a genuine act of merriment even being played out amongst idiots who caused her more grief than anyone, she'd finally released it all.

Potter seemed to realize he wasn't going to get a response, so finally sighed and turned back away to continue smiling and laughing with his mates like old times while Alice sidled up to her again, holding her nose but frowning for a wholly other reason. She stood awkwardly there though, unsure how to reach out to Evans this time and offer anything when honestly the lot of them were just seeing more of the same Snape they saw every day, hearing those nasty rumors of the rest of the friends he hung out with. Frank hadn't said anything to her, but she could tell he was uneasy about Evans and much she associated with those nasty pre-Death Eater's just like the rest of the school.

"I don't suppose it helps at all he's treating all the kids like this, not just Potters," she tried anyways.

"Nope," Lily's icy, one word answer was enough that Alice got the mood and left her to stew in silence and sidle back over to Frank, who was scowling hatefully at this all as well.

"If Potter doesn't dunk his head in a vat of boils when we get back I will."

"Frank, that's not like you," Alice reprimanded quietly as she took his hand.

"Well I think it's high time I should be like that," Frank took her hand quickly and gave it a squeeze as he kept hearing what Neville was going through. "I've been growing sick for ages watching all these bullies run the school, now it turns out one of them's going to be given a position of power by Dumbledore himself and he's still abusing it. I've been saying for ages I want a way to fix this Alice, got to start somewhere."

"Turning into the monster only creates another," Alice quoted with a heavier frown.

"What would you have me do then?" he sighed, easily backing down from the threat as he looked to her bright amber eyes. They hadn't even realized they'd both wanted to be Auror's last year when he'd offered to study their OWL's together, each finding out it was the others desire as well only at the beginning of this year and they'd started dating that night. It was a purpose that they were sure would have drawn them together no matter what in the end, a fight they knew they were going to get involved in with the coming war and looking to meet it head on.

"What you always do Frank, use your head," she tried to chuckle, though it didn't last long as Regulus described Harry's mores mood upon going to Hagrid's, it admittedly hadn't been the best end to his first week.

Yet they were all caught off guard by Harry easily piecing together what they honestly hadn't given much thought to. What was Dumbledore moving around that was so important then? Regulus was so involved thinking about it, it still didn't occur to him to give them warning when he finished.