#how much leeway do visitors have

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Robbie, Playoff Willy, various Scouts; pull yourself up by the jockstrap

For the prompt: A little more of Robbie's time with the Scouts - Cup party, with the Tweedles and Willy, maybe Julius & Erin. Your choice - just more of that.

(I'm not here, but the tumblr queue is! Well. Probably.)

“Now, I know I have no right to talk about maturity,” Robbie says, then promptly ducks the jock that comes flying at him, the rest of his message going undelivered.

“No throwing shit at teammates’ heads during playoffs!” Playoff Willy yells.

“It wouldn’t hit him in the head if he wasn’t so short!” Bender says. “I misjudged!”

“Misjudging is not acceptable during playoffs!” Playoff Willy says. Robbie wants to write a book of his sayings. Like Sun Tzu but for maladjusted athletes who don’t know how to lose. Which is pretty much all pro athletes, in Robbie’s experience, so it might even sell.

Robbie nudges at the limp jock with his socked foot. It looks sad. Defeated, even. “Bro, when was the last time you replaced this?”

Bender looks to Playoff Willy, like he’s waiting for Robbie to get yelled at, though Robbie’s pretty sure Playoff Willy cares a hell of a lot less about feelings than he does about potential head injuries. Or like — anything. The only feelings Playoff Willy cares about are like, motivation. And probably bloodlust.

“Pike has a point,” Playoff Willy says. “That shit is falling apart.”

“But I wore it in!” Bender says. “None of the other ones fit right.”

Robbie pokes it a little further from him. The visitor’s room floor is sketchy as fuck, but he doesn’t think he can do the thing any damage at this point.

The elastic snaps. Well, snaps is a strong word. The elastic’s too damn worn for that, so it’s less a dramatic death and more feebly giving up on the last thread of life remaining.

“Whoops,” Robbie says. Maybe he should have considered that the thing was an antique before he started poking at it.

“Willy, look what he did!” Bender says. “That was my lucky jock!”

“How lucky can it be when we just lost the game?” Playoff Willy growls.

Bender is, thankfully, smart enough to realize that’s a rhetorical question.

“Still up a game, Playoff Willy,” Money says, and Playoff Willy shoots him a glare, but doesn’t say anything.

Robbie’s still impressed that Money’s got the balls to call him Playoff Willy to his face, and even more impressed that Playoff Willy lets him. Everybody knows Money is his favorite, but as the playoffs have gone on, that seems to buy less and less leeway. Money told him from the get-go that the longer the playoff run, the worse Playoff Willy got. Robbie didn’t really believe him, or maybe didn’t want to, but he’s got to say, Playoff Willy during the Conference Finals is a whole different beast than the first round. Emphasis on beast, there. If he mauled someone Robbie wouldn’t even be surprised. Unless they were playing well, he guesses.

Thankfully, Robbie’s been doing okay for himself, shutting down the guys he needs to shut down, so he’s also currently in Playoff Willy’s good books, at least enough that he doesn’t fear mauling.

“I’ve had that for eight years,” Bender moans.

“That’s fucking gross, dude,” Robbie says. “Genuinely. I did you a favor.”

Bender throws a glove at him. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to have been around for two presidential terms.

“If I have to leave next game because I got nut shot, that’s on you, Pike,” Bender says.

“Bro, if you go onto the ice without a jock Playoff Willy will cup check you himself,” Robbie says.

He winces, but either Playoff Willy didn’t notice the slip, or Robbie’s earned even more grace than he thought.

“He isn’t wrong,” Playoff Willy says. “Normally I wouldn’t, since it’s a chickenshit play, and an auto major, but I don’t think they really care if it’s your own teammate.”

“Refs won’t give a shit,” Scratch says. “Social media probably won’t shut up about how he slept with your wife, though.”

“I can make it look like an accident,” Playoff Willy says. Robbie does not doubt him even a little.

His brow furrows a moment later. “I don’t have a wife,” he says, sounding almost unsure.

That would be kind of suspicious, but Robbie’s learned that’s just how Playoff Willy talks about anything non-hockey related, like first he has to go consult with normal Willy, who’s being held hostage somewhere inside him.

“That could not matter less to idiots on twitter,” Scratch says.

“Last round they said I slept with your wife,” Money says.

“Why did you sleep with my wife?” Playoff Willy asks, then, after checking with kidnapped Willy again, “You’re openly gay.”

“Like I said,” Scratch says. “Could not care less about your actual relationship status. Or sexuality, apparently.”

“Scratch is still mad about it,” Joey says.

“I’m not mad about it,” Scratch says. “I just think people should do basic—“

“I fixed it!” Bender says. “I fixed it, guys! All it needed was a little super glue.”

Robbie has such a bad feeling about this. Bender’s honestly lucky his balls have survived this long: that elastic was literally holding on by a thread.

“You don’t want kids, right?” Robbie asks.

“Oh yeah,” Bender says. “Not quite yet, but Lacey and I are—“

“Oh, give me that fucking thing,” Playoff Willy says.

Super glue isn’t going do shit to save Bender’s jock after Playoff Willy and a pair of scissors get through with it.

“Have some respect for your testicles,” Playoff Willy hisses, and then marches the remains of Bender’s jock to the trash can.

That one's an instant classic. Robbie is adding it to the book of Playoff Willy for sure.

“That’s one for the book of Willy,” Harvard says. Obviously Robbie didn’t need telling, but he does appreciate that it’s becoming a collaborative effort.

“Hah,” Robbie says. “Testicles.”

“Willy,” Harvard agrees.

“What are you two giggling about?” Playoff Willy growls.

“Nothing,” they chorus, ducking their heads so they don’t accidentally meet Playoff Willy’s eyes. That’s a mistake Robbie isn’t making again.

“It was so comfortable,” Bender mumbles. “Like wearing nothing at all.”

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” Scratch says. “That was kind of the problem.”

“So comfy,” Bender whispers.

*

Robbie’s never been to a funeral for a jock before, but he guesses there’s a first time for everything.

“R.I.P.,” Money says. “Like rest in peace. Not like rip. Though that is what you did.”

“Before getting hacked to pieces by a madman,” Scratch says.

“May you find peace and serenity in—“

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Playoff Willy says.

“Scatter!” Money says, and they all flee. Well, Robbie doesn’t. Not because he doesn’t want to, but he’s fucking exhausted. Plus, he blocked a shot last game, and anything faster than an amble makes his leg throb like a bitch.

“What the fuck were they doing?” Playoff Willy asks.

“Funeral for the jock we murdered,” Robbie says. Well, Robbie’s crime was jockslaughter at most, but that’s not important.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Playoff Willy says, then bows his head, eyes closed. He doesn’t move for a good minute, and Robbie’s shifting uncomfortably, wondering if he's finally snapped just like the jock did, and if getting Money will help or just make it worse.

He startles when Willy speaks, murmuring, “Sorry I killed you.”

Presumably — hopefully — he’s talking to the jock, rather than saying it to Robbie just before he kills him. Robbie reminds himself he’s safe. He blocks shots.

“It was for his safety, and the greater good,” Playoff Willy says. “Thank you for your years of service.”

He opens his eyes then, and Robbie accidentally meets his eye.

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He doesn’t think he was supposed to see that either.

“I won’t tell anyone about this,” Robbie says.

Playoff Willy’e eyes narrow.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” Robbie says.

“You’re a quick learner, Lombardi,” Playoff Willy says. “I like that about you.”

“I block shots too,” Robbie says, just to make sure Playoff Willy remembers his utility.

“You block shots too,” Playoff Willy murmurs, then nods to himself.

“Integral part of the team,” Robbie says, then, aware he’s over-selling it, he awkwardly shoots Playoff Willy two thumbs up.

Playoff Willy’s brow furrows, then, after a long consult with the normal Willy tied up in the basement of his brain, he gives Robbie two thumbs up back.

[syndullqs]

𝐬����𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 — 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒚

summary — your past has made you a hardened general. commander cody intends to break you.

warnings — gn!jedi!reader, mentions of a traumatic past, cody being annoying

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊. the men in that hangar were expecting a visitor, and a notorious one at that.

“you’re acting like you’re meeting the chancellor,” general obi-wan kenobi poked fun at his commander, who was standing at attention next to him.

“can’t be too prepared, sir,” cody responded as a ship landed in the hangar of the Negotiator. obi-wan only laughed as he watched the ramp pull down, revealing none other than you, jedi general y/n l/n. you had a reputation for being emotionless, which obviously wasn’t the case. no one ever seemed to get an extreme reaction out of you, ever. you seemed cold, and they were right to assume that. being the competitive spirit commander cody was, he wanted to change that.

“general kenobi,” you offered a small smile as you approached him, shaking his outstretched hand.

“general l/n,” he greeted, “this is commander cody,” obi-wan introduced. cody stood at attention, but dipped his head towards you.

“sir,”

“it’s a pleasure,” you dipped your head in response. oh, it definitely would be.

~~

the campaign on alderaan was successful. the separatist forces were driven out and once again, the republic could go home with a victory. which also meant commander cody could do more of his, well, job.

cody, any chance he could get, would make comments that would make anyone flush. you, however, never budged. you offered him a small smile, and a shake of your head before moving on. challenge accepted.

“general!” cody called from behind you. now, you weren’t blind to the commander’s plan. you knew of the reputation you held, and it wasn’t by choice. the strings of your past were still attached to you, making you a hardened person. he was determined, for whatever reason, to break you.

maybe a part of you liked how difficult you made it for him.

“what can i do for you commander?” you stopped in your tracks and turned to face the commander. he was attractive, the way he seemed to glow with that boyish look. yet, your face remained neutral, your eyes meeting cody’s.

“general kenobi has some reports for you to sign off on,” he explained, handing you a datapad.

“and you couldn’t comm me? or general kenobi himself?” you posed, raising an eyebrow as you took the datapad, signing it anyway.

“what, i can’t spend time with you, mesh’la?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. you knew what he called you; you were well aware of the terms of endearment used by clones. your own men used them quite often.

“as much as i find the nickname flattering, commander, i know you have other, more important, things to be doing,” you told him, offering him a softened expression. cody huffed, his chest filling with pride as he viewed your softened expression. finally, some leeway.

“oh, well of course, sir. i just wanted to run that by you,” he meant several things with his smug expression, and he also knew you’d get every one. he leaned in just enough, daring to enter more of your personal space.

“if you need me, i’ll be in the hangar, sir,” he gently tipped your chin with a coiled pointer finger before stalking off. his move was bold, especially given how you two barely knew each other. your stomach fluttered at his touch, even if it was fleeting. shivers crawled down your spine, and not ones in warning. your expression hardened, but your eyes told a different story. your heart melted a little, and you felt the lingering affects of cody’s finger.

“noted,” you spoke, and cody heard you. he smirked as he stalked off, pride filling his chest. he wasn’t going to lie, though. you weren’t the only one that felt the spark at the touch. cody felt it in the pit of his stomach, and it terrified him.

lol look at me pumping out fics HAHA. this will probably be a multi-parter, but idk either. if y’all like it enough i’ll add more parts. anyways, i graduate college here soon and the way i’m SO excited, but it also means a little more free time for me until i start my big-girl job haha. anyways, hopefully you enjoyed some cody!

[oumiyuki]

First Outdoor Live for Shuka and me: Saito Shuka 5th Anniversary Shuen 2024: Tenshi to Akuma no Sasayaki 👼😈

Gosh, how do I even begin…?

First, I just want to let everyone know how hot it was XD I’m already someone who sweats a lot and the heat from the Sun returning the same passionate feelings as us Shukajins and Shuka ;D was simply…! HOT!!

For Day 1 (17 August 2024, Saturday), I did not have the leeway of using my analog hand fan or the Aqours electronic fan I had on hand as I was finding my way around Saitama to get to Tobu Zoo where Shuka’s Live was being held.

As you all know, I was running late due to that! And it was also because I made the mistake of still wearing my watch – that made me think I still had time, but Japan is one hour ahead of Singapore! XD Gyaahh!

I feel like the guide Shuka and staff left about exiting from the North Exit and it being a 10 minutes walk to Tobu Zoo is…for people in the know XD and interestingly, the station itself had a paper put up guiding visitors to take the West exit! So well, I followed that instead.

I was already running late, I was attempted to follow guys that wore Converse shoes cos that’s a good way to guess that they are Shuka fans heading to her Live venue but because I was already late, I figured it’s not wise to follow random dudes in hopes they are going to the zoo XD So don’t worry, I didn’t. Instead, I went to the bus and asked the nice bus driver uncle if it goes to Tobu Zoo >v<

When I made it there, 2 lady staff was waiting in a tent and helped me put on the wrist band for the zoo pass and Shuka’s Live pass – thank you! Because I would’ve been stumbling to put it on (I was fumbling with it for Day 2 XD) The nice ladies then told me it’s another 15 mins to Shuka’s Live venue and I was like – “Ah, thank you.” On the outside. But inside my mind, I was like, “Ehhh!? Another 15 mins?! Even though I’m already late. Mouuuu!!” And I jogged and sped walk my way to the venue XD

The “good” thing of being late is that you get to be led to Shuka’s venue by her wonderful singing voice XD

I also like how when I ran past the attraction for a roller coaster ride that had tall stones with Egyptian carvings on it and some other horrific poster near it, I was like, “Yeah nope, turn right because no way Shuka’s Live venue is where something scary is XD” And it is the right way to continue on my way.

[Egytian carvings to the left, let the Shuka poster be your guide]

Speeding things up, because why would you want to know what else I saw on the way there, right? >v<``

When I neared the Live venue, that’s where you’ll see the Live Goods tent too. As I ran pass, I saw the merch I wanted sold out already so I was a bit sad but more importantly!! I could sense Shuka already XD Jogging in and slowing to a walk so as to not disturb anyone, I tried looking for my seat but it was like “BWAAHH!! AAHHH!! WOOO!!!” energy from lots of guys cheering so I was like “Never mind, I’ll stay at the back” XD

I joined in just as Shuka started the Devil Side of the Live!! (Courtesy to the Shukajin who made a set list record so I could fact check where I popped in >w<) So, it was where Shuka was singing “Baby Tell Me”!

But truth be told, I can barely remember how the song went cos I laid eyes on Shuka in her Devil themed outfit and I was just speechless, eyes glued to how amazing she looks and while I was amazed by her shining on stage and performing, I was very much constantly thinking about how good she looks in that outfit XD

You’ve seen the pics, you felt the same way! I bet on it!! XD Aahhhhhhh!!! >w<♡♡♡

[mind blown, attention stolen, Devil Shuka is here]

Followed by a Medley of HYPED songs…!! *O*

Tsuki de hoshi de Taiyou da

Zenshin Zenrei

Ippai Attena

Bokura wa Genius

Excuse me, Shuka-san?? I believe this was where I jumped a bit too much and knocked my knees against the long bench XD And Miyuki here didn’t even realize it until she’s back in the hotel later to see the bruises. I’m telling you, the hype and high and smiles you feel from being on cloud 9 after experiencing a Shuka Live let’s you not feel pain XD But adrenaline aside, I did apply my essential oil blend that soothes pain so I’m guessing that’s why I could still go all out for Day 2! HAHAHA!

*coughs coughs* Back to the Live!

Shuka performs Darake next, and you can bet the energy explodes even more because everyone was looking forward to the 555 songs?? At least I was!!!

ShuShuShu is next and I had my Ai no Yajirushi towel with me so I took it out to twirl for this towel song!! Towel songs are so funnnn~ (I’ve been a fan of towel songs since μ's Mermaid Festa Vol.2, and have been looking forward to any towel songs. SO, I thoroughly enjoyed Shuka’s one too!!)

Mata Ashita was the next song. I vaguely remember me swinging my hands along to it >v<

I don’t remember where the MC part takes place, but I’m going to assume here where she had performed a bunch of songs already. Shuka mentions how she posted about her having a sore throat and that made everyone worry so she apologizes and reassures us that she is alright and in fact, super energetic >w< She’s adorable when showing how energetic she is. >w<

I felt that her sore voice wasn’t obvious in her singing which is really cool. Other than when she performed “Mikata”, that one was when you hear some scratchiness in her singing voice. Ah, and when she talked, that was when her scratchy voice was obvious.

Shuka calls out the dancers called “Gyaruz” to introduce them and that’s when a cute moment happens cos Shuka starts asking her band members if she forgot to introduce them XD Usually the flow would be to introduce her band members first! And so, her band members told her Shuka did forget and she was a little in denial about that like “I forgot?? Ehh? I forgot??” XD Too cute. And then she introduces each of them!

Shukajin then goes: “You forgot something!”

Shuka: “Mm?”

Shukajin: “Vocalist?”

Shuka smiles, “And the vocalist is Saito Shuka.”

And we all clap and cheer for her!! >w</

Somewhere in between the MC part is a conversation where Shuka makes a cute noise with her scratchy voice too and it was extra adorable. I think it might be where she was asking her band member if she forgot to introduce them? I don’t remember exactly, I just know she was adorable XD That voice was hnnggg XD

Oh, and Shuka asks if we got hit by the water she shot. And the reaction was… “Yes!!!” and she apologizes that only some got hit by the water? XD

I… …also remember Shuka saying that we have now seen Angel Shuka, Devil Shuka and now that she is wearing the Live Tee she is Real Shuka! (which is the purple coloured Tenshi to Akuma no Sasayaki t-shirt but cut up and redesigned into a different fashionable way which allows Shuka to show off her midriff when she dances >//w//< paired with her jeans-shorts. Healthy legs in display =//w//=b)

[Real Shuka and her midriff ahhhh >//w//<♡]

You know, now that I’ve reminisced to here, I wonder if Shuka performed One Piece and Kutsuhimo first before the MC part >v<``

Because, when wanting to lead into a song, birthday bgm plays by the band member and the Gyaruz girls help to bring out the birthday cake and we all sang “Happy Birthday” to Shuka!! >w<7 It’s always so fun singing it to her hehe~

Shuka sneaks some to eat and from there is where it became picture-taking time!!

I love how everyone sat down and Shuka was like, “If you sit, we can’t see you!”

Then, some of us stood up again. And Shuka continues to say, “Ah, but it’s okay, we can take a proper picture later.”

That leaves us lost as to whether we should sit or stand XD So some was sitting, some was standing XD

[Day 1 together picture; I can be seen hehe >v<]

The photo gets taken and we go on to have Shuka perform the final song Mikata.

Shuka thanks everyone after, running to the sides of the stage and back to the middle to bow, the Gyaruz and band members join her to join hands and bow to us too…

It’s always such a bittersweet feeling when the Live ends. And as she’s going back stage, she waves to us, smiles, bows, all of that. It doesn’t take long for her to disappear behind but it’s kind of slow motion in my memory…=v=

And once you hear the electronic announcer voice says it’s the end of Shuka’s Live, that’s when we clap real hard again and then start to disperse. :>

I was at the back so I just made sure to drink more water, wipe my sweat, take a photo of stage and the Sun shining through the ferris wheel to us. 😊I then bumbled my way over to the goods tent and checked what else is selling. Although the t-shirt and keychains were sold out already, the hood towel was still available! So I went to buy one >v</ (LITERALY NO REGRETS FOR THIS BUY. More about it in Day 2 gushings :P)

Aaaand, the next part of the tent is where they are selling Shuka CDs and whatnot, I already have all her CDs so I didn’t buy anything from there, so onto the third section of the goods tent, there was where a staff would give out a postcard with Shuka at a spot in Tobu Zoo where the bears are at! Super cute picture UwU Alongside the Stamp Rally card and he stamps Day 1 on it! The tiger is so cuteeeee!!! Look at her!! >w<

[Tobu Zoo kuma Shuka!]

Beside that booth, is a present box where we can put our gifts to Shuka there. So, I took out my gift for her and placed it gently inside ^w^ From what I noticed, I think not many knew if there will be a present box cos I think there was less than 5 presents including mine XD While on Day 2, I believe I spotted a bit more presents in the box XD I hope Shuka loves the present I chose for her!! \>w</ Woof woof!

(Gosh, I’m making you all read so many words. There’s no way y’all are reading all these, right? XD To you who read all the way to here. Thank you. And I hope you’re smiling as much as I am while writing these~ ^w^)

[Sunset. This picture captures the feeling after a Shuka Live… Breath-taking, at a loss for words yet so much feeling/emotion running through your mind…]

~ DAY 2 ~

The Summer heat was high. I am early at Tobu Zoo this time because I don’t want to miss a single second of her Live. I won’t go into details of the fun before the performance but just so you know, it’s so awesome that our Live ticket already includes full access to the zoo and amusement park attractions! ^w^

Now…

It’s really hot and I kid you not. I was grateful for any natural wind and not natural wind that blew our way. When it was time to enter the space where the Live will be though, there was no natural wind there and my Aqours electric fan of course decided “I’ve worked hard for you for HOURS now. Time to rest…zzz…” [cue my shocked face XD] But it’s okay!! It’s like minutes to the start of Tenshi to Akuma no Sasayaki Day 2!!! I’ll just keep wiping this sweat and hydrating—

AHHH!! When the music changes to like a storm is brewing and SOMETHING IS COMING…!! And the band members come out!! I love them, by the way. We all love Shuka so we’re here but her band members just feel like family or super good friends already (to Shuka) so the feeling of cheering for them is sincere and excited~ >v<

And then, and then, there was this mash up of Shuka songs too…That one made me feel like if there was a montage playing too of Shuka’s growth, that’d be so cool too. But just hearing the songs mashed together like that… It evoked that feeling already and the scenes of MV to Shuka Live performances played in my mind too anyways—

HYAAAA!! From that, THE wedding-like music starts playing and, I think the backup dancers were already around and I was doing my best to absorb all that was happening. (Oh, also there were a bunch of tall guys so I had to tiptoe to see Shuka XD) But it’s all worth it when I saw Shuka in her Angel form which was this outfit like a wedding dress. Miyuki mind: CHOTTO MATTE EEEHHHHHHH?? KAWAIIIIIIIII!!! HOLD ON. WHAT, HOW, WHY, SHUKA?? >w<

I was smiling widely and fangirling hard inside XD And she starts singing Aishiteshimaeba. I love this song a lot too but because of being caught up in the moment…? I totally forgot Shuka’s Live performances are extra fun with the dance moves she came up for us to dance along with her XD So when this super enthusiastic fan beside me did the moves – I was like OH YEAH, THERE WAS THAT. WAHHH. And tried to mimic and dance along the best I could >v< I kept remembering how Shuka told us she wants us to not be shy and be cute for this song so I focused back on seeing her perform on stage and did my best for the moves where I can remember XD

PaPaPa is the next song. And this is one of her super hyped songs too. Understandable considering how fun it is and one of her early songs too! >v< So, as someone who usually play the blurays at home and cheer with my hands/light sticks, I forgot again that there’s like claps and other things the at-the-venue fans do XD I feel like I’m being too focused on this because of the enthusiastic and loud fan beside me but I’m not opposed to learning the fan moves in the first place! I especially like the Love Live! ones after all :P So well, I was trying to follow along…again… XD

P.S. It feels good to be praised by Shuka when you pull off the moves so it pays off? >w<

PiPiPi next!!! I loooooove this song a lot >v< Maybe it’s because I love old school things but the lyrics having “antenna” in it just makes me smile so much XD And and, it’s such a cute song?? And thus, I didn’t forget the dance moves for this one XD I can’t even explain how adorable Shuka looks throughout this song as she sings and dance it… I’m sorry for my lack of vocabulary for it… But just imagine that…that megawatt smile, glowing not just from the stage lighting but from the Sun and her angelic form?? That’s how it was from my POV… TvT

Here comes the new song from her 555 album! And yes, it’s PuPuPu!!! MEANING SHE JUST CHAINED THE PAPAPA-PIPIPI-PUPUPU SONGS!!! That’s such a cool thing to do, right!? *O* And I love this song from her new mini album!! It’s peppy, it’s fun, it’s cute, it tells a story of friendship when two argues and how they care about the other, and understands the other too, and how they make up and it’s all good again. >v<♡♡♡ I know I had the biggest, silly smile as I watched her sing this song, staying on my tippy toes to keep my eyes on her… mmm… Cute and wonderful. (I also clap hard after each song I think XD)

After that much hype, it’s MC time!

I found it cute how Shuka knew we’d want to do it?? So she gets us to congratulate her for her 5th Anniversary. And also to wish her happy birthday XD So she would say “Shuka-chan, congratulations on your debut 5th anniversary” and we’d echo “CONGRATULATIONS!!” and she goes, “Shuka-chan, happy birthday~” and we’d echo, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” >w<

Shuka then mentions about wanting to go bbq together and we’d shout back things like “Let’s do it!” and another one even went, “Right after this??” XD

Shuka likes to know the fans that are around so she starts asking our age group! When she asked “Are there teens?”, the person behind screamed so loudly <v<; Me and the other guys in front visibly flinched from the loudness XD I think Shuka was looking to the other side so perhaps she was not affected by that screech! Then she goes, “Those in the twenties?” and I cheered! I chuckled a bit on the inside that those in their twenties did a very cordial cheer? It was properly loud but not annoying is how I remember it XD And then Shuka goes, “Those in the thirties?” There was quite a bunch too and I remember I accidentally pumped my fist up too XD I was like, Hold on, Miyuki. We still have a few years to that. XD And when she asked for the older age group and there were still replies Shuka was happy about that!! :D

[Shuka serenading us and playing instruments for us at the same time TwT She's so amazing, mouuuu, daisuki! >w<]

Shuka spoke more and then asked us to take a seat for now as she wants to serenade us >v</ I gladly sat down to hydrate myself but I was concerned if I could see Shuka when sitting down @v@ Thankfully? I could see her in between the heads of the tall people in front of me XD But it was slightly tough to make the head of hair become unfocused while I tried to make my eyes focus on Shuka only. It was a strange first minute or two while I watched Shuka play the harmonica and sing Himitsu Dogu. But gosh, I’ve wanted to experience this Live too and it’s wonderful each time!!!

Next, Shuka sings Kokoro from her 555 mini album. My eyes soften as I nod to the music and her singing voice, taking in each lyric into my heart. I really liked how everyone sat quietly and listened. And I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Shuka for even a second.

When the music started for Hanarenaide, I felt something from the tip of my toes to my fingers and the top of my head. I knew this song resonated with me from when I heard it back home, but Shuka singing it to you Live? While you’re sitting there, and she’s sitting up on the stage… It’s like the world just had me and her. I remember I could not help but groove to the song and her words and I simply wanted the words in my mind to reach her – zutto hanaremasen. zutto soba ni… (I’m never letting go. I’ll be by your side always.)

We clapped so hard when she finished singing. >o<♡♡♡

And while I was feeling things, Shuka goes off stage to get changed and the band gets their solo moments!! It’s suuuuper cool! *w*

Miss Devilish Shuka returns in her full devil form and I swear I still feel the same way as Day 1 – Excuse me, Shuka-san?? What are you wearing?? What are you doing to me?? XD That looks so sexy and pretty and devilish indeed!? XD

[The Devil owns my heart and takes good care of it!?]

Shuka is singing Baby Tell Me and it’s such a fun song too to be bouncing to while she have fun singing and running about the stage?? Oh, but she did not just run around the stage. This was where she was going to shoot us with water XD So she also ran all the way to the back and climbed a tower?? A high place XD And she sprayed a whole lot of water – from that far back, the water barely not reached me XD So I was like “Aww” >v< But it wasn’t over yet…!! She ran down and came all the way the sides too to spray us with water with her water hose-gun thing XD So yes – I was hit by the holy or maybe not so holy water since she’s on the Devil Portion of the Live now XD

It's one heck of an experience to see her up close!! It’s like, “Oh right, Shuka is that small. How is she so small but so amazing? Oh gosh, Shuka is right here…!!” kind of thoughts as she ran between the aisles to spray us with water! And then back to the stage!! >w<

After this hype marathon, there was some music box and thunder bgm which brought the mood back to “Oooh what’s next??” >v< And Shuka starts singing Tsuki de hoshi de Taiyo da! So I was jumping and hyping along to it! >w</ And when you’re hyping to it, suddenly it’s a little interval bgm thing again and she’s onto the next song Zenshin Zenrei…!!! *O* Waahhh!!

You’re Zenshin zenrei-ing one moment, and then bam, now it’s Ippai Attena!! XD It’s one hype song after another, I’m telling you!! All I remember now is being unable to stop smiling, to be bouncing on my tip toes to constantly get to see Shuka and cheering happily. (All while appreciating her moves and smile of course ;D) Bokura wa Genius is the final of the Hype Medley. This song was always super energetic for the full version too so definitely a wonderful finale of the medley hehe >w< Ugh, whenever she lowers her voice for a cool moment during the song…! >w< It’s so goooood >w</

Oohh, I like this next part – the BGM gets you pumped and Shuka asks you to do a few rounds of “S-H-U-K-AAAAA SHUKA!” cheers before her next song Darake!!! >w< I want to do that agaaain >w</ Shuka counts the number of times we cheer it with her fingers so we know how many to go too \*w*/

[Inner Miyuki reacting to Shuka counting down >v<]

And now we are onto the 4th song of her 555 mini album. I was trying to take note of where she planted each of her new songs too, and I loved how they were placed!! ^w^

PuPuPu alongside the other fun triple P songs >v<

Kokoro and Hanarenaide as a ‘sit down get serenaded’ segment

Darake as part of the Devilish hyped portion

And last would be Mikata >v<

But first, TOWEL SONG…!! ShuShuShu!! As mentioned in Day 1 report, I find towel songs extra entertaining and fun for us to participate in >w</ This time, I tried twirling the Tenshi to Akuma no Sasayaki towel… and I must say, it’s a bit heavy to spin XD But all in all, there was spinning, jumping and cheering \>w</

Sekai no hate is one of my favourite songs too. It’s so cool, empowering, and the MV is as gorgeous as Shuka! I remember hearing it for the anime and then the MV…Shuka’s brown eyes literally so bright and alluring! And I would think Shuka rocks any colour but she rocks her favourite colour red so, so well…!! u>v<u I digress. Shuka on stage performing Sekai no hate is charming and I was left staring and experiencing her performance. I didn’t even bother doing the cheers the dudes around were doing. It’s that feeling of…like, all you can see is Shuka, all you can hear is Shuka, and…it’s just an amazing feeling.

At the end of this song though, Shuka reached out her hand skywards and stayed in that pose for a long time, so it’s like she froze and the people around started wondering if she really froze XD Then she “unfroze” and head towards the backstage again for outfit change! I bet she was feeling the moment thus the elongated pause in pose. =w=♡

Piano version of Hero ni narikatta plays while we wait for Shuka to return. 😊And this is another one of my favourite songs from her. I especially love the acoustic version and so I was loving the instrumental as I get hydrated, waiting for what Shuka is going to bring next—

I WAS NOT PREPARED FOR MY TOP FAVOURITE SONG OF SHUKA’S TO BE PERFORMED NEXT.

THE SECOND THE FIRST BEAT DROPPED.

My eyes widened, my jaw fell agape morphing into a smile of disbelief and awe.

My processor was going into overdrive as I understood that Shuka was singing “Mou Muri Demo Hashiru”. I literally, unapologetically, and fervently tell whoever I can and Shuka that my favourite song of hers is this. It’s been an unspoken dream of mine to get to experience this song of hers Live. I’ve seen the MV, I’ve looped the song a gazillion times, I’ve watched her perform it in other Live performances via the Blurays, but…Live in person?? I wanted to get to taste this. And I am living it. The world does not even need a rebuilt or to “fall apart” again as I was still living in the space that felt like it was just Shuka and me as my eyes never strayed from her, when she pours her heart out in singing each syllable and verse which she would go lower to the stage’s floor, I’d just do my best to tip toe some more to see her, chasing after every poignant second of this performance. I lipsynced to it as the words were known by heart. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to properly convey my love for this song and how good Shuka’s Live performance of this was.

If you ever have the chance, please go to Shuka’s Live and experience her performance. It reaches your heart…

And while I’m still reeling from having a dream come to fruition unexpectedly… (Shuka is amazing that way, right?  (◕‿◕)♡) The next song Shuka performs is Kutsuhimo.

Gosh…It felt like coming full circle. Of course, I came to know Shuka from loving Watanabe You, but when I got into loving Shuka too, I supported her from her debut song too. And Kutsuhimo is like the string that ties us together. A strong bond that’s like…fate and like a pinky promise too. We put in the effort to continuously support one another. :)

[Shuka performance touches my soul and I have ascended (again)]

MC time! Both Shuka and I need that moment to hydrate and breathe again XD (By this point I think I already finished my sports drink and my 2 litres of water is probably down to 500ml or less OuO;)

I think Shuka liked to ask us if it’s hot / if we’re feeling hot, and we would go “It’s hot!!!” XD And while she’s drinking, someone asked if the water was delicious, she smiles/smirks and under her breath, she goes, “It’s not water” XD But doesn’t tell us what it is. Well, considering the hardcore setlist, you’d think it’s a sports drink at least XD

Shuka then asks us if we are enjoying the outdoor live which we of course tell her we’re enjoying it to the max. Then Shuka goes, “Tasukaru?” (“Does it save you?”) and we all laugh with her because this is like a youngin’ slang. Probably the Japanese Gen Z slang? XD Basically a thing to say when what you love is there. (Fun fact: Shuka did not understand this slang is either and learnt about it during Uraraji when the person who wrote in used this slang. And further understood it more the more people used it even during her InstaLive. >v<)

Shuka continues to talk about a bunch of stuff such as how she would think a lot into what song to perform for each Live, and to cherish every second there is with everyone… And that’s how quite the tough and crazy setlist got decided for this first ever outdoor Live too. She smiles sheepishly yet happily at this, and we laugh because we know it’s really a setlist jam-packed with energetic songs and Shuka really kept going song after song. But we love it >v<

Shuka also tells us about how she feels that with each Live performance she gets to do with us, with each challenge she overcomes from the various performances, she finds/hones a new weapon to be able to be stronger again >v< (EXP points gained and levelling up!!)

When she goes “The last song for today”, me and everyone around whines for more XD And we asked for extension XD but of course, it’s the last song for the day. And Shuka leads in with her these heartfelt words…

“For a final song…Right now, what I am feeling up to this point have been enveloped into this song and I hope to deliver it to you. You all are not alone, you have me. No matter how tough or sad things get, or when things seem out of reach, I will definitely be unwaveringly by your side. You can come over to me knowing it will be okay. Every day, every day, let’s keep supporting each other and walk together. So…please listen to this song – Mikata.”

Mikata to me, is another song of hers that is one where she bares her vulnerable side to us like she did in “Yoku warau riyuu”. Some lines that calls out to me are “I’m going to continue singing at the place where I am reflected in your eyes.”, “Even if feeling like a coward or feeling uncool. Put that aside, and take my hand.” and “I’ll tie my shoelaces again and start running once more.”

When Shuka sang the final line of Mikata, I like how there’s such a loud silence and then the band plays the instrumental of Mikata, like it just continues and then Shuka goes, “Thank you so much for coming over to play with me for the 5th Anniversary Live. Now, allow me to introduce the band…”

“I may not be a hero yet…but right now, I know that what I can say with confidence is that I’m your ally (mikata). And will always have your back.” Shuka… >o< To me, you ARE my hero. But I’m also just…so, so happy to have you as my ally. That’s for certain!! >o< ♡ (I also teared up at this part when Shuka talks about her journey of 5 years as a solo artist, how she wants to be our hero and don’t think she is yet… Shuka… OmO♡)

Shuka also asks if we will continue to see more sceneries with her. And I can tell you, my answer is a resounding yes. My new dream is to get to attend her FC event performance because I adore her acoustic singing and I want to get to experience that too.

So… With this feelings of adoration, admiration and endearment, I once again have set forth to reach that dream! >v<

Ah, I just realize I did not mention about how Shuka was in “real Shuka” mode AKA where she is in the Live T-Shirt and shorts and the way it got redesigned is so hawawa too O//w//O

If you asked me whether I like Angel Shuka, Devil Shuka or Real Shuka more… I don’t think I can really give an answer right away XD They are ALL so wonderful hehe~ >w< ♡

After Shuka introduced the backup dancers, Gyaruz, I think there was picture-taking moment… And then they go off backstage…and then Shuka asks for her phone cutely, “I want my phone~ My phone, please~” >v< Kawaii sugiru desho?? (Isn’t she too cute??) >w< And once she got it, she gets to record her usual video where we all cheer loudly and she asks the question which we go “SAIKO JAN!!!” >w<

…haaa… …

This 2 days of Shuka Live was simply awesome. I’ve got no words. XD I mean, I’ve said so much, I feel like there’s more to say but…it’s that…basking in the moment feels. The post-Live euphoria… You can’t wait for the next time you get to see Shuka but at the same time, you’re just…smiling and remembering the 4 hours you just had with her for this 2 days… =v= ♡

For me, the feeling of missing Shuka and Japan while feeling like I’m still there…lasts quite long XD It’s probably why I can still be gushing about Shuka’s Live even though it’s September already :P But I really wanted to get to share it??

Again, thank you for reading all the way here. I love Shuka!! Aaahhhh >w< ♡

Fangirling OuMiyuki signing out (≧◡≦) ♡

See you around! \(^ヮ^)/

[slavdollz4mangione]

Regarding the cuffs, they keep him shackled the entire time. He gets the chains in MDC and they stay on the whole day till he’s back after his hearing. It’s standard practice to uncuff one wrist if the prisoner needs to pee. Whether or not he’s watched in there depends on the discretion of the men handling him. They have to uncuff him when he’s changing but again chances are they don’t leave him alone in a room so he has zero privacy.

And yes if he needs water it’s up to them to hold the bottle up to his lips. They’re not allowed to uncuff him at any point. It’s also mandatory to have two escorts physically holding on to him at any given point of time, even if they’re locked in the transport van. This is protocol for high risk inmates and while we all know that’s bogus, they’ve falsely classified him as one in order to make his life as miserable as possible. I can’t tell about his wrists but his ankles were definitely cuffed too tight and they’re kinda stupid to do that with so many eyes on him. He won’t Hulk out with one extra inch of leeway around his ankles.

The holding cell is a secure room. Not a literal cage (thank god)

Since he’s in federal custody, he’s also not allowed to meet visitors without the shackles. So if his parents have been in to see him, unfortunately they have seen him in chains. He’s allowed one brief hug (well more like he’s being hugged, he can’t move his hands) at the beginning and ending of the meeting.

He’s only allowed to remain unrestrained while meeting his lawyers, and they typically have security nearby for standby. He’s definitely being watched but not heard when he’s with Karen. Considering even his legal team has had struggles getting face to face time with him, I doubt his family has been approved to see him. It’s very unconstitutional but he’s restricted a lot more in federal custody even though the material conditions are better. They truly can get away with anything by citing “safety concerns” for everything.

thank you for answering to my previous ask anon! this is really insightful for me as well.

my heart genuinely breaks so much for luigi, they’re treating him as less than human and it’s beyond unfair, i don’t even have the words to describe how visceral of a reaction i just got reading all this.

i hate that we all feel so powerless, that we’re not being able to do anything about it other than share information, donate, keep mentioning his name, critique and call out the juridical system and police forces.

i wanna be hopeful that justice will be served and that luigi will walk a free man but being more aware of how horrible his living conditions are right now doesn’t make it easy.

[greenandhazy]

I have a coworker who I think is just… mediocre at our job and I’m really unsure what to do about it.

Like, a significant portion of our jobs involves walking visitors through interactive presentations, and he often delivers 50% of the details that me and my other coworker do, his delivery just sounds off (not super conversational, sounds like he is rattling off stuff by rote and already preparing to move on), and he spends a lot of time talking about his own perspective (yeah I didn’t know that either, I never used this, my memories of this are different) in a way that just… doesn’t come off expert in the way I think we should? We all chat a little bit about our personal experiences a little, but for the rest of us it’s just little details we throw in to connect and enhance our presentation, and for him it seems like… he doesn’t really know anything except his own experiences.

And it’s not technically my job to give him feedback. I’ve corrected him here and there on actual facts he got wrong, but it’s hard to know how to do this overall because like… we do have leeway to omit or elaborate on things as needed? It’s not like we have a “you MUST say XYZ facts” policy for every interaction. It honestly seems like he needs the kind of in-depth training we’ve never done at my job because everyone else has been… better at this… but our boss doesn’t work on Saturdays which is the main day we do this, so she doesn’t really get a chance to see him perform this work.

I could just go to my boss and tell her “he’s bad at this,” but I’m not sure how much of my reaction is MY standards as opposed to institutional standards, and I don’t necessarily want to come off as overly-critical.

Especially because I’ve already gone to her about one of our security guards, who is just always doing way Too Much (pulling kids away from exhibits to make them do activities, giving long explanations about activities that don’t need them, introducing people to exhibits that don’t need explanations and getting facts wrong because that’s not her job). So I feel like I have already dipped into my “bitching about coworkers quota,” and I think I have to remind her of that conversation because the security guard hasn’t stopped. I might have to pick my battles on this one.

Also I really need a break. I’ve had a few days off here and there in the past month or two, but I seriously need like a week.

[263adder]

Displacement

Chapter 2: You're All Crazy

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46882966/chapters/118518730

Summary: Only the other week it was Changelings and Admiral Picard with his Merry Men. Now there's an unidentifiable anomaly ahead and Captain Shaw is getting a headache.

Liam Shaw x Reader

Part One | Part Two

Starfleet had responded, though they didn’t give nearly as much instruction as Shaw would’ve liked. There was far too much leeway leftover for Commander Seven to start getting ideas in.

Their orders were to complete their initial route, the one that had been derailed by Picard and Riker’s unwanted company, then return to Starfleet Headquarters for maintenance as planned. Their latest visitor could depart there. Given the unreliability of time travel, it was unlikely they’d ever return home; so Starfleet had minimal concerns about her gaining knowledge of the future. Apart from barring her from sensitive parts of the ship, principally Engineering and the Bridge, she could have the freedom of any other guest.

Of course someone would have to explain what had happened. Starfleet seemed to be under the impression Shaw would do that in his capacity as Captain but, given how much he knew his subordinates liked to interfere, that felt like a task he’d happily relinquish to someone more eager to get involved.

Tapping his communicator, Shaw summoned Seven of Nine and Kenney, his Chief of Security, to his ready room for a debrief.

“First of all,” he started, not bothering with the formality of a hello, “Starfleet have strongly discouraged us from pursuing the anomaly. We are to continue on our current trajectory. A research vessel has been dispatched to investigate further.”

Seven’s face hardened and Shaw watched resignedly as an argument formulated in her mind. Before she could protest, he added: “We can still continue to analyse the results of the probe. And, of course, if we encounter it again there’s nothing to stop us gathering more information.”

A gleam came into Seven’s eye that he definitely didn’t like, but he decided to take her nod as confirmation there would be no more funny business.

Turning to Kenney, Shaw asked if there had been any luck identifying their visitor.

“No, Captain. Narrowing down the location and date of her origin will enable us to pull up her records, but those aren’t available on our database. These files were never uploaded because, well, it wasn’t thought they’d be needed in this day and age.”

“Fair enough. Starfleet hasn’t imposed containment, however, she should be supervised to ensure she doesn’t wander too far. Once they regain consciousness, create a rota and have a member of Security accompany her at all times. Set up guest quarters too. She’ll be aboard until we reach Starfleet Headquarters.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Captain.” Seven interjected. “I have some experience with time travel.”

“Of course you do.” He commented dryly, thoroughly unsurprised.

“I’d be willing to volunteer to accompany them around the ship.”

“So you can ask questions about how they came to be here and if they saw anything that could identify the anomaly?”

“You said Starfleet had no objection to further research.”

Shaw seemed to spend his life sighing around his crew and today was no different from any other day.

“Fine. Engineering and the Bridge are off limits. Someone needs to explain that she’s in 2402 and everything else that comes with the time travelling territory – mainly that, you know, aliens are a thing. I don’t think they knew that 400 years ago.”

“Noted.”

“And err, I’m not actually trying to be insensitive as per usual, but,” he gestured toward his own face in mirror to the implants on Seven’s, “don’t be surprised if she looks confused about your appearance. I’m surprised she didn’t clock Doctor T’plokan’s ears and start screaming.”

“I will take Commander Musiker with me. She is – adept – at putting people at ease.”

“Good idea. Very well, you’re both dismissed.”

“Captain.” They said, taking their leave.

For a moment, Shaw wondered what it would be like waking up 400 years in the future. If it would be nearly as confusing as everything that had happened to Titan only a few weeks ago, when they discovered the Changeling plot. If it was in any way similar, he sympathised for the headache this woman was due.

*           *           *

Seven picked Raffi up from their quarters and was heading toward the medbay when her communicator chirped with an update from T’plokan.

“Commander. The patient will awaken in the next ten minutes according to the neural calliper.”

“Understood, I’m on my way.”

Turning to Raffi, she asked: “What’s our approach?”

Raffi chuckled. “We’re not ambushing the enemy here. We’ll go in, be our usual friendly selves and answer whatever questions she has.”

“That could be a lot.”

She nodded. “Yes, and all we can do is be patient with her. Remember what an adjustment it was for us when we landed in the 21st century? On the plus side, it’s given us an insight into what life must have been like for her.”

“Crowded and hostile?” Seven reflected.

“Smaller.” Raffi corrected. “We’re about to open up the entire potential of outer space. Multiple human settlements, not just Earth. Hundreds of alien cultures, some of which we’re only just learning about.”

“You’re aware she might not believe us?”

“Luckily we have plenty of evidence aboard that we’re telling the truth.”

“Speaking of,” Seven said, brushing her fingers over the ocular implant at her brow, “are you certain I should be there when you break the news? I wouldn’t want to alarm her.”

Raffi pulled Seven’s hand away from her face, tangling their fingers together. “Have you ever heard the expression no one cares what the bridesmaid is wearing?”

Seven gave her a look of confusion.

“Guess not. What I mean is, she’s going to have a lot to process. I doubt she’ll even notice. We might be answering questions for hours.”

Or not.

When they walked into the medbay, their patient was wide awake – barely tolerating T’plokan’s presence as she removed the neural calliper from her forehead. Once it was off, she batted the Doctor away.

“Hi.” Raffi said softly, walking up to her bed. “It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling better?”

The patient shifted gingerly, relaxing when the sting of pain didn’t return with her movement.

“Do you remember us? We were here when you first woke up. I’m Raffi, this is Seven, and that’s your doctor – T’plokan.”

“Greetings.” Seven said.

“You tried to hit me with a tray, remember?” Raffi prompted when she got no response.

“Would you like me to try again?” The woman asked, voice somewhat hoarse from sleep.

Raffi laughed good naturedly. “Not really, but I wouldn’t blame you if you tried. This has to be pretty confusing right? Unless you’ve remembered how you got here?”

“Sadly I’m still in the dark on that one. Your Captain said you were too.”

“Yeah. Honestly we’re not sure how you got here. We were sailing on course when we intercepted another vessel. You fell down one of our ladders, presumably having come from the other ship.” Raffi explained, adding more to the story to gently acclimatise her. “We tried to contact them but got no response. You don’t remember leaving home, so I guess you can’t tell me anything about them?”

“Sorry.” She replied impassively, eyeing Raffi warily as she stepped closer to her bedside.

“Eh, we figured that might be the case. You had a nasty fall.”

“Which I seem to have recovered from.” She replied sceptically. “How long was I out, exactly? Because I’m pretty sure I had a broken arm the last time I was up.”

“It’s been five hours.” T’plokan supplied. “I will need to assess your condition again, but I doubt you need to stay in medbay much longer.”

Holding up her right arm, their guest looked at it curiously. Twisting it side to side as if looking for evidence of the damage.

“There’s not even a scar.”

“I know this must be confusing…” Raffi started.

Pushing herself upright on the bed, she flung back, “No shit. Where am I?”

“You’re on the USS…”

“Titan. Yeah, I got that bit. But seriously. Where am I?”

“Okay honey. This is going to be a shock, but I promise if you just hear me out I’ll answer all of your questions.” Raffi said, using the same comforting tone she took on when Seven had a nightmare that roused them both from their sleep. Seven’s shoulders lost some tension just hearing it.

“You’re aboard a starship – a spaceship.” Raffi clarified, using the terminology she would be more familiar with. “We’re currently in the Alpha quadrant, performing a mission for the United Federation of Planets – under Starfleet. Which is the organisation we all work for. And the year, the year is 2402.”

The three Starfleet officers stood in silence, waiting for the information to sink in, anticipating the next response.

Snorting derisively, their visitor swung her legs off the bio-bed. “Yeah, right. Okay. I don’t know what looney tunes action I’ve stumbled into, but I’m out. Where’s the exit?”

“We’re in outer space.” Seven interjected. “You can’t exit the ship until we reach our destination.”

“I am not in space.” She insisted, standing up on steady legs. Her clothes were still bloody, the hem of her jeans torn, but it would do for an escape.

“You’re all crazy and I’m leaving. See ya.”

“Wait.”

Raffi stopped Seven from dashing after her. “No, no it’s okay. Maybe once she looks out of a window, this will all make sense. Chasing after her will just make her think we’re keeping here, which won’t give her any reason to trust us.”

Following their visitor through the corridors, she soon stopped when they crossed paths with a Hallian ensign. Shaking her head, she continued again. Stopping again when an Orion officer passed them in the corridor. Another shake of the head and they were off once more; their guest refusing to accept the proof in front of her very eyes. Winding through the corridors until they finally reached an exterior corridor, where long windows illuminated the truth.

“You see what we mean?” Raffi asked once they caught up.

“Green screen.”

Seven wasn’t familiar with the term and evidently Raffi wasn’t either as she asked her to elaborate.

“Green screen. It’s just a picture projected onto a wall. And those, those people back there…” she said, pointing a finger over her shoulder, “were in costume. What is this, the set of the next Twilight Zone movie? Who do you think you’re fooling here? Just tell me what’s going on?”

“I know this is confusing, but we’re not trying to lie to you.”

“Every word out of your mouths has been ridiculous. Why are you trying to keep me here?”

“Why would anyone go to the effort of creating such a vast conspiracy for you?” Seven asked, losing the patience Raffi had asked for. “Are you a person of great significance? Have you been targeted for abduction before?”

That made her lose steam.

“You’re in the year 2402. We estimate you came from the early twenty-first century, which means you are almost 400 years beyond your own time. We didn’t bring you here. Another entity did. We need to understand why. If you don’t believe your eyes, believe your body. Your arm was broken five hours ago, now it’s healed. You don’t have technology capable of that in your time, but your society is too advanced to believe in witchcraft.” Seven stated.

Her bluntness seemed to have more of an effect than Raffi’s empathetic approach as, instead of stubbornly shaking her head, their visitor finally stilled.

“2402?” She asked quietly.

“That’s right, honey.”

Looking up at Seven, she said, “And you don’t know how I got here?”

“No.”

“Then how am I meant to get home?”

Raffi started to console, but Seven stuck with the truth. “We are not entirely certain we would be able to return you to your own time. There are strict rules on time travel. Since we don’t know how you came to be here, it is unlikely we could send you back the same way.”

“So… I’m stuck here?”

Raffi took over. “Maybe. But even if you are, everything will be okay. The twenty-fifth century is a lot different than you’re used to. The Federation will resettle you and help you adjust. You could even go back to London if you wanted to.”

Looking at her like she’d just sprouted a second head, their visitor restated: “Everything will be okay?”

“Of course.”

“What you’re telling me is that I’ll never see my family or friends ever again. That they’ve been dead for centuries. That I’m going to be a charity case for the rest of my life if I’m stuck here. Does that sound okay to you?” She accused, voice rising. “Christ, I don’t even have my phone on me. I don’t have photos or… or,” a hand reached to her throat, “not one piece of sentimental… every part of my life is just gone?”

They looked back, eyes full of sympathy. Dropping her hand away from her throat, she stared back.

“What now?”

Raffi sighed. “We need to understand how you got here.”

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“I know, but that could be the initial shock of time travel.”

Seven added, “It’s possible other people are at risk of this fate. We need to understand how you came to be here.”

“And, if you do,” she asked hesitantly, “you might be able to send me home?”

Seven glanced at Raffi, unwilling to instil false hope and make impossible promises, much as she wished the comfort the girl.

Luckily, they were spared an answer by a welcome intrusion.

“And how are we all doing this fair afternoon?” Shaw asked genially, stopping between the three women.

“Captain.” Seven greeted.

“Are we all caught up?”

Raffi nodded, keeping her eyes on their guest – who Shaw turned his attention to.

She looked wan, but otherwise healthy. Certainly better than when he first saw her in the infirmary. Shaw hadn’t intended to pay her another visit, he was there against all his better judgement. Spending time with Picard and his former crew was clearly having a bad influence on him; the Shaw of a month ago would’ve kept his distance. But, perhaps, being on the end of Seven and Raffi’s antics had made him sympathetic. Hell, if he didn’t intervene they might rope this poor woman into stealing a shuttle and starting a war with the… oh wait that had already happened.

The computer told him they could be found on Deck 6 along a port-side corridor. It seemed like an odd place to break the news to someone that they were trapped in the future, which made Shaw walk a little faster than he normally would. Which is where he found the three women stood at some sort of impasse.

Stepping closer to their passenger, Shaw outstretched a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t actually been introduced, I’m…”

“Captain Shaw, USS Titan. Yes, I’m aware.”

She didn’t accept his handshake, so he let his arm drop.

“You’re not a member of my crew, so you can call me Liam.” He said, leaning against the corridor wall. “You’ve met Seven and Raffi. And you are…”

She gave her full name. He could see Raffi making a mental note of it, ready to look up her past once they had access to the records from her time period.

“Well it’s very nice to finally make your acquaintance. Security arranged quarters for you, why don’t I show you the way? You’ll have them all to yourself. I’m sure you’ll appreciate some privacy.”

He certainly would, and the woman clearly felt the same since she nodded in agreement.

Turning to Seven, Shaw said, “Commander, Lieutenant Yana is waiting for you on the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Sweeping his arm in what he was sure was a mocking manner, Shaw extended an invitation to his guest.

“Shall we?”

Usually I write reader inserts in first person, which I didn't do and now I'm questioning that decision. For the record, I always try hard not to use Y/N just because I think it pulls people out of the flow of the story but I'll see how that progresses in the next chapter! I guess I could give her a placeholder name or nickname?

As always, let me know your thoughts. Thanks for the nice response to the last chapter!

[beforecreation]

This was most unexpected. His assumptions were that there were no more than the three types of people he had spotted in his earlier venture: servants, husbands, and hooded figures that kept to themselves. This little girl had fit none of those descriptors by looks alone, and certainly behaved much unlike any human child he had seen before. Messy and unsavory, she has the gall to drool all over the place, disrupting his current activity of reading as his eyes adjust to meet his latest visitor. A frown firmly across his face, he shuts the current book and sets it aside, he did not spend hours navigating the halls of this wretched kingdom and gathering snippets of information for a nosy child to interrupt him.

But she spoke unlike any ordinary child, she spoke as if she were a predator, waiting to strike and gobble him up with those sharp teeth of hers. A confusing and visceral thought, one he did not care to wonder about how she would go about doing such a thing. Whether or not this child merely trying to scare him, or disgust him, he realizes that her loyalty laid with the avaricious queen given her speech about catching betrayers.

However, the thought of someone so young and small supposedly being put in charge of punishing the malcontent causes him to snicker briefly. He couldn't help it, for all his years alive, he could never take the words of the youth as a serious threat, even if the world he now occupied was far different than his own. If she truly was a predator of some kind, there would be no fear for her to feast upon by threatening him.

"You must be joking." He utters without a thought, sarcasm as dry as it can be slipping from his lips. "Save both of us some time, and spare me your threats."

With that, his ashen eyes are taken off this mysterious, messy brat, and grabs a tome to study the language of. To think, she proclaims herself some kind of enforcer to be weary of. how laughable, how pitiable for someone so delusional to think that they possess power over him. Delusional... just as the woman who started this whole mess to begin with. His eyes shift back to the girl who had yet to leave his side, and with a sigh, he forces a smile upon his face once more.

"Why... don't you worry, little one. My interest is purely so that I may admire her more. She is woefully closed off after all, my heart simply... cannot handle it. I fear for our connection, should she keep this wall between us."

Nothing but lies have been spewed, but if this child was the daughter of the queen as he suspected, then his attitude would surely be reported back at some point. If not now, then at some point in the near future to be sure. This facade of a lovestruck and hopeless fool was important to keep up, regardless of how much he had to bite his tongue. Patience was an essential tool, and even though the destroyer's moods had been subjected to swinging around on even minor provocation, exerting control over himself was of the utmost importance.

This wasn't a situation he could simply wield his power around without consequences.

"And to answer your earlier questions, you are correct in that I am no beast. I am divine in nature."

He supposed that hanging onto his identity as a god posed no harm. The ever insatiable queen had stated her refusal to acknowledge him as such, but that meant nothing to Beerus himself. He knew who he was, and no one would take that away from him. Especially not his supposed partner to be.

But perhaps the current situation wasn't all bad. If he may gain a repertoire with this child of hers, perhaps her assumed mother may give even more leeway to appease the desires of her spawn. Engaging with someone who had in no uncertain terms voiced a voracious desire towards him did not appeal in the slightest, but if things may turn in his favor, he would have try to grasp any opportunity that presented itself to him. If nothing else, he hoped to gather the basics from her.

"And now that I've answered one of your questions, why don't you answer one of mine? You and your queen, what are your names?"

Something felt off, a subtle shift in the air that hinted at an intrusion. Someone had slipped into the library, an unwelcome presence that had somehow navigated the labyrinthine depths of this vast sanctuary. The library itself was a sprawling expanse, far larger than it had any right to be, housing countless volumes from every corner of the globe. Some books contained mere whispers of knowledge, while others held captivating tales of the cult's origins and the immense power contained within their pages.

Here, too, lay the entire documented history of every nation the cult had laid waste to, alongside the names of every victim they had claimed—those they had slain, those they had enslaved, and those they had resurrected as soulless soldiers for their dark army. This place was a stronghold for the cult, ruled by power, yet brimming with secrets. 

As he settled into his chair, ready to delve into another tome, an unsettling awareness crept into the room, as if something unseen was observing him.

She could already taste his essence, a tantalizing hunger stirring within her as she yearned to consume such a being. Yet, the rules were clear: husbands were off-limits. They were not to be touched, not to be taken, and nothing could be done to them unless the command was given, releasing them from their titles and allowing them to be devoured or toyed with. As he lifted his gaze from the pages, he caught sight of her—a girl, a child, perched on the table beside him. Her golden hair cascaded down, spilling over the edge like a waterfall, and in an instant, her head snapped up, locking eyes with him.

“Now here is a presence unlike anything I have ever encountered loomed before him. What are you?” A formidable beast, a force of nature that she couldn't recall summoning. “You radiate the essence of a great disaster, yet you are not one of my three beasts.”

The girl grinned, revealing a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, glinting like daggers in the light. With a predatory gaze, she rose and glided toward him, her elegant white dress flowing around her. Her small, bare feet made a soft tapping sound against the table as she approached, stopping just inches away, looking down at him with an insatiable hunger. Drool dripped from the corners of her lips, splattering onto the pages of his book. Though she couldn't devour him whole, she yearned to consume his name. If she could feast on his name, she could savor his memories, transforming him into the perfect partner—docile and uncomplicated, another one of the foolish ones who followed her every whim. 

She had done it before, and she could do it again. This one was a delicacy meant for someone of her caliber, and the thought of having him sent shivers of delight through her. She fought against the overwhelming urge to leap upon him, to sink her fangs into his skull and devour his name, or at the very least, some of his memories, erasing them from existence.

“You’re not the first to wander into this place, and you certainly won’t be the last. If you think you’ll uncover something valuable here, you’re sorely mistaken. Just like those who came before you, searching for treasures or secrets, you’ll find nothing but the insatiable hunger of Greed. I’ve devoured all who try to betray one of us, and I won’t hesitate to feast on you too if you dare to threaten them, especially before the wedding day. Keeping them content is the key to keeping everything in motion. “

She stood there, they were all part of the same insidious cult, with Greed reigning supreme. It was far wiser to align with them than to oppose them. She played her part, hoping for the scraps that might fall from their table, for that was the essence of her existence. In this wild world, a wealth of food was everything; the more you possessed, the more fulfilled you felt. It was a love affair with abundance—an insatiable craving for flesh, for meat, for names, for memories, and for souls. She could never get enough.

“You’re squandering your time. By the end of the week, you’ll be wed, and if you dare to act against her, she’ll either end you or mark you as prey. When that happens, you’ll be trapped in her with me, and I’ll relish the thought of devouring you alive.”

[greyias]

After two years of writer’s block, I pick up and finish a long lingering chapter of a WIP. And then decide to go try and fill in the placeholder markers I left, pull up Wookieepedia to double-check myself and—

—guys I think the post-KOTOR, pre-Shadow of Revan lore for Manaan specifically is a fucking mess.

[yandere-sins]

I have a question about yandere. Do yandere love themselves (love yourself)..cause I read that though they project their love and possessiveness to the object or someone borderline insanely and we get to know their thoughts about their darlings only. People say projecting those mostly possessiveness things is like projecting your insecurity. What about their thought process. What do they think about themselves in more in-depth.

And let's say if there was a darling who is true to herself with good emotional intelligence and knows how to deal with red flags especially the manipulative ones...how would the yandere deal with it.

Wow, I feel honored you would come to me, the sinful yandere gremlin, to ask these questions. I'm not sure if I have good answers to that, lol.

I guess, in the end, everything depends on your yandere definition. There are enough games/lore/etc. that have shaped the word into that of a person that's more or less lacking emotional stability/emotions at all. Only when they find their person (or, rarely, object) they will start to finally feel something inside of them again and only think about that darling, get obsessed with them. So basically, psychopath or sociopath that starts to only truly live once they have found what they were always looking (destined?) for.

However, I think here on Tumblr at least, we are pretty much set on the differences in yandere types like the possessive, obsessive, protective, etc. (If you want to look into those, I know @/yandere-daydreams has two posts or more about them. Just use the search option on their blog!) and those are just the supercategories we are basing the personalities on. If you have/create a yandere that is very confident, I don't see a reason why they wouldn't love themselves in varying degrees, except if you want that as their insecurity. I also don't see why an obsessed yandere with stalker tendencies shouldn't like themselves. Except, again, if you're going to use that as insecurity to justify their actions. I frequently write about a yandere!Bakugou who is so overly confident that he wants his darling to admire him, and I think in this case, it would be weird if he didn't like himself. That would ruin the character I built for him, though, of course, someone could interpret that as his insecurity showing.

Technically, you can handle yandere like you would with any other personality. I don't think it's unlikely either for a character who very much likes themselves to get upset because the thought of not being great enough to keep their darling's attention on them is sending them spiraling mentally. And possessiveness is not necessarily insecurity, even if it can come from insecurity. Likely, yes, not a must though. However, I am eyeing supernatural fanfiction here, but the possessiveness of a werewolf doesn't necessarily mean they are insecure.

For their in-depth thoughts, it somewhat comes down to: is the yandere aware of how bad they are behaving? Or are they delusional? Both minds would circle around their darling, but a delusional would refuse to see anything wrong with their treatment of their darling, while yandere who are aware will have a moral fight against themselves between what they want (keeping their darling and loving them) and laws, society, the knowledge about what is right. Both types of yandere have very chaotic thoughts, just in different ways. One might be absolutely in love with finally owning their darling and spending time with them, while the other dies inside whenever they think about what they did.

In the end, it's up to us who are thinking about the yandere how they see themselves. They could love themselves and stand behind what they are doing or not. However you choose their personality to play out. 'Yandere' alone does not make a complete personality, especially not if it's fanfiction. You'll always have to work with what you already have and turn it into something that makes sense for the characters. That's the great leeway we have with the fictional concept of yandere! So many possibilities!

As for the darling who's good at seeing the red flags: it also depends on the yandere. Some yans might be put off with not being accepted. Not to a point where they could let go of their darling and wishful thinking, but so that they remain an onlooker from the distance and stalker of the night. Realistically thinking, the best a darling can do is get a restraining order. However, I'd wager the yan is neither happy nor going to accept that. Not every yandere is physically or mentally strong enough to kidnap/threaten their darling though, so they do whatever they can, even if it never gets farther than being a nightly visitor at the window. However, even they might reach a breaking point on some occasion. Other yandere won't take 'no' for an answer at all. Like I said above, it really depends on the personality, character, and type. There's no way you can just put it all under one hat and call it done. Yandere doesn't have to be complex, but in my opinion, if you want to make it good, you have to think about it a bit deeper than just saying yandere is all the personality there is to them.

[silyabeeodess]

Do you have any hcs about the Totems or the Book of Prophecy in FusionFall?

The first few bullets are pretty long and can’t be compiled easily into a couple paragraphs for an opening, so I’ll just keep everything below the cut:

A while back in another set of headcanons, I mentioned the possibility of some alien visiting Earth long ago to warn the planet about Fuse in-advance. While I still think it can work given that aliens do canonically visit us present-day in the game and the news and the ability/material to create the totems would have to come from somewhere off-world, I do have another idea as well. I will say this now: I don't think Fuse visited Earth at some point previously given how close he was to taking it over before we players travelled back to the past with blueprints for the nanos. However, if we take time-travel and the wormholes from the mission “Messages Across Time” into consideration, there's a lot more we can work with:  

One interesting thing about the totems is that we find several familiar cartoon characters depicted on them.  What’s interesting about this though is that they aren’t CN’s original characters, but rather some of Hanna-Barbera’s characters such as Fred Flintstone, Top Cat, and--more importantly for what I’m about to get into--George Jetson.  Hanna-Barbera characters such as Scooby Doo have been featured alongside CN originals during the CN City era, and they also have appeared in cameos like Yogi Bear and Boo-Boo Bear in GAOBAM.  It’s also worth noting that one important location tied to the totems, the ruins, is called the Hani-Baba (Hanna-Barbera) Temple.  Therefore, it’s likely safe to say that these characters exist within the world of FusionFall even if we never interact with them directly.  It’s possible that these characters took the information from Fuse’s invasion and planted that knowledge in ancient times so present-day Earth would stand a better chance than whatever occurred in their own timeline.  We know time-travel exists for them because of crossovers between The Jetsons and The Flintstones like “The Flintstones: The Rescue of Dino and Hoppy” and “The Jetsons Meet the Flintstones.”  This would explain why we see such characters across multiple eras featured on the totems.  Someone from the Jetson’s futuristic time period (It’s 2062, according to promotional sources for their show, but we can make some leeway in either direction since the creators couldn’t have known where we’d be technologically in modern times and FusionFall itself also has a futuristic setting.) could’ve travelled to the Flintstone’s Stone Age and established the totems then.   

While there is also a possibility of multiverse travel/communication, with the name for the temple coming from the name of the Hanna-Barbera universe, I feel this is less likely for two reasons.  The first reason is that, aside from Professor Paradox’s appearance in the game, the difference in missions from its original version and the Academy update would show that much of FusionFall’s attention is on a single, linear timeline: As players, our actions in the Future and jump back to the Past do massively change events. The second reason is that the multiverse idea wouldn’t explain how the totems themselves were created, what materials they’re made from, or how said materials were obtained.  

So, here’s a balance between my initial ideas and what we’ve gathered in the previous bullets.  Aliens have visited Earth to help in the fight against Fuse: We see it with the Plumbers and the anonymous visitors in their UFO hovering over the Haunted Ridge, the ones who gave us an off-world ore that can fend off Fuse’s infection via a crashed meteor in the “SACT Attack” mission arc.  This ore is never mentioned again, but given its similar attributes to the totems; that the same fusion monsters, Alpha Arachnids, both try to tamper with the meteoric ore and rip out pages the Book of Prophecy; and that none of Earth’s materials have been known to defend against fusion matter, the totems are likely made from that ore specifically.  In modern times, all anyone knew how to do with it was place the raw ore in separate locations, as seen when Agent Greenberg has us place them around the Haunted Ridge mining camp.  By the time anyone figured out how to draw out its full strength against fusion matter, similar to the nanos’ creation, it was too late. Therefore, just like us, someone must’ve gone back in time to create the totems and spread them all across Earth before Fuse could arrive. (Why they’d choose Earth’s ancient civilization instead of something more recent is up in the air, unless they something went wrong with their own jump through time, again, like us.)  These were likely some of the Hanna-Barbera characters, which the ancient people listened to and revered enough to carve their likenesses into the totems themselves.  Their knowledge would then be added to the Book of Prophecy, passed from generation to generation to prepare ours for the invasion those fellow time-travelers also experienced and give whoever possessed the book the key to activating the totems.  It’s not a traditional “prophecy,” as an ancient civilization would assume, but a retelling of events experienced by those from the future.       

It’s important to note that the power to activate the totems (referred to as both the Power of Prophecy and the forces of Destiny) came from the book itself and not the player, so it doesn’t seem to be derived from imaginary energy (IE) or anyone with IE could’ve managed the job.  In the mission “Head to Totem (Part 1 of 5),” the player “absorbs” the Book of Prophecy’s spine when trying to activate the first totem.  This and the fact that the power is somewhat easily transferred from one person to another--given how Billy stole it, how Hex would’ve stolen it if Billy hadn’t already, and how it was transferred to the Pillow of Common Sense and then given back to us with Mandy’s help--seems to be an intentional security measure.  Something like a book is easily destroyed, as seen with the Alpha Arachnids’ attempt.  Meanwhile, if that power is able to move from one host to the next, it’s much more difficult for Fuse to track down and get rid of. This would also explain why the runes that allowed the player to activate the totems were hidden along the spine instead of in the book’s pages, as well as explain the existence of the Rock of Transference that Hex used, which is located at the Hani-Baba Temple.   

“The Power of Prophecy (Part 3 of 4)” reveals that there were many more totems spread across the globe than the ones we encountered.  However, with Juniper Lee’s and the Magic Tree’s help, the player is able to amplify that power and activate all of the remaining totems at once.  This and Hex’s expertise would hint at the power’s origins being something more akin to magic or ancient technomancy than a science.  

As for the Book of Prophecy itself, ancient books didn’t always have spines as we know them today: Some were just clasped together with metal or leather, and wooden boards were used only as early the 6th century.  In order for the book to have a spine more similar to what we know, it would have to be at least that old and/or the time-travelers would’ve also had to pass on the knowledge of more modern-day bookbinding.

Furthermore, the book wasn’t written solely for the sake of beating Fuse.  Maybe that could’ve been the initial purpose, but it was twisted later on.  In “The Book of Prophecy” mission arc, the love potion May has us create is from its pages.  This makes it clear that, over time, the book was used less for the purpose of containing “prophecies” and instead used more as a general book on magic.  This also further addresses how it’s been passed to various people across the years, with some of those people having ill intentions.  

“The Book of Prophecy (Part 3 of 5)” reveals that Marie Kanker got it “from a graveyard at midnight” before it ended up in May’s hands.  What she was doing in said graveyard or whether or not she had to... do some digging, to get the book is probably better left unknown... 

Hex’s discovery of the Rock of Transference likely means that more knowledge exists elsewhere in the world regarding the specifics of the book, totems, and Hani-Baba Temple.  

Give the temple’s overall importance to the totems, it’s highly likely that they originated in its general area.  

[tenspontaneite]

Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 23/?)

In which a Healer visits her patient, three unfortunate children have a very cold day of travel, and Corvus learns something unexpected during his convalescence.

(Chapter length: 14k. Ao3 link)

Warnings: non-graphic descriptions of respiratory illness, an amputated limb, and non-consensual administration of medical treatment. Discussions of suicide and mercy-killing. Depictions of early stages of adapting to a new physical disability. Mentions of cold-related injury in background characters.

---

A runner came for them early. Early enough that Sarli and her apprentice had barely risen. Seeing as Sarli was not yet presentable, Cairon answered the door; she listened to what little she could glean of the conversation through the walls.

She heard “Yes,” and “yes,” again, and then “I understand. I will tell my master.”

Sarli finished dressing and went out to receive the news. “Well?” she questioned, once her apprentice was within her line of sight, and he straightened.

“The castle requests our attendance to the prisoner at our earliest opportunity,” he reported. “And there is someone to show our way to the new cell waiting outside.”

She considered this, and the urgency it implied. It was fortunate that they had no appointments booked until the afternoon, apparently. “Have they any news of his condition?”

“Sick, and weakening.” Cairon was succinct.

“Unsurprising.” Sarli went to her medicine cabinet and opened it, considering the arrayed items with a careful eye. The infection was surely still persisting, so, something for the reduction of fever. The lilium, of course, for pain. It would be well to bring an anti-inflammatory, too. Perhaps several. And, if the elf persisted with his reticence, then…the needle, too.

She plucked a few vials and bottles from her shelves, then went for the other assorted basics of bandages and disinfectants, and handed some of it off to Cairon to pack while she wrapped the rest. And then there was nothing but for the two of them to leave their House of Healing and follow after their waiting escort.

The elf’s new prison was apparently in a wing of the castle proper; or so she surmised when they did not divert for the dungeons once through the castle gates. She supposed the stipulation of moonlight cut off many of the more secure below-ground options; she had been very clear in specifying that some amount of moonlight must be upon the cell for as close to the entire night as possible. She wondered how they’d managed it.

Once they were through the inner doors, one of the Crownguard took up her escort. “Healer Sarli,” she greeted, with a nod of respect. “If you’ll follow me? Your patient is waiting.”

“Of course,” she said, and so they followed a little further. The castle was well-guarded today, she noted. Very well-guarded. And increasingly so, as they progressed into a wing that did not seem designed for prisoners at all. “Is this not a residential wing?” she asked at last, a little nonplussed by the finery of the halls she crossed. Cairon, too, seemed a little narrow-eyed about the affair, though he did not speak. His eyes marked each and every Crownguard as they walked.

“Diplomatic wing,” corrected their escort; despite her professionalism, there seemed a hint of unease to her countenance. “I’m afraid your stipulations for all-night moonlight access were difficult to manage, Healer. The diplomatic quarters are empty for the moment, and they have always had high security anyway, so it was decided that one of the rooms should be converted for use as a cell. The windows are…larger, here.”

Sarli raised an eyebrow. She supposed there had been no call for the crown-castle to host Moonshadow prisoners before, but even so… “Surely that must have been rather a lot of work.”

“Less than you’d think. It was mostly a matter of replacing the door and putting a cage on the window. And stripping the room, of course.” The Crownguard hesitated for a moment. “It did take the night, though. The prisoner was only moved here two hours ago.”

She paused. “So, then, he has had no moonlight this past night.” Although her tone was neutral, she thought it plain that she was not pleased. Beside her, Cairon looked grim.

“Regretfully, no.”

Sarli pursed her lips, and said nothing more until they reached the cell.

It was apparent when they reached it. The door was thick and iron-banded, adorned with bolts and keyholes and chains. It was a sharp contrast to the finery of the rest of this area of the castle. There were two Crownguard directly outside the door, and several more posted the length of the hallway. Evidently, they were taking no chances with the elf that had slain the King. The effort they’d gone to was testament indeed to how valuable they considered this prisoner.

There was also a man who was certainly not a guard of any sort, waiting for them. He looked up as they neared, eyes sparking with recognition. Clearly, he knew her by the robes. “Healer Sarli,” he greeted, and offered a short bow. “You have been anticipated.”

Sarli stopped across from him and eyed him appraisingly. No sign of military conditioning, but a certain self-assurance to his manner regardless. He seemed sharp-eyed and shrewd, and was dressed smartly in predominantly dark colours. She recognised his like. “There has been no tribunal yet,” she observed, a little startled to see an observer from the Crow Lord’s office here.

He nodded agreeably. “There hasn’t. I believe they aren’t in any particular hurry to hold one either, since it will be a moot point if the elf doesn’t survive the new moon.” The man’s eyes slid from her to Cairon, then back again. “I am Teyron. I will be present for any and all meetings between the prisoner and his guards and visitors of any kind.”

She inspected him. “Seeing if there is anything to glean from non-exceptional measures?” Her voice was dry.

Teyron smiled. “That, too.”

Sarli shook her head. It was like that, was it? Very well, then. She supposed it mattered little to her. Cairon seemed a little confused, though, so she turned to him and said “This is a member of the Crow Lord’s office. He is here to gather information on the prisoner via the passive methods of observation and insight. He is also here to ensure no one attempts covert communication with the prisoner during visits.”

She was watching him closely to be sure he understood, and was satisfied to watch him fall briefly still. “I see,” Cairon said, in the end, eyeing the Crow Lord’s man with some mixture of caution and curiosity. “Is that standard for prisoners of war?”

“It’s standard for prisoners with a covert operations background,” Teyron said affably, and inclined his head to the door. “Shall we?”

“Yes.” Sarli approached the door as one of the Crownguard reached over to slot a thick key into the mechanism. When it was opened, she allowed Teyron and the guards to precede her, then followed without further ado.

She lingered in the doorway for a moment, taking stock of the room. If this had been ambassadors’ housing, she could only imagine it had been for lesser members of a delegation. The place was well-lit, but it was not large. Even stripped of its finery and furniture, it was emphatically not large. A servant’s posting, perhaps? Even such a lowly use was beyond it now. It was utterly bare but for the trappings of a prison. No bed, not even a pallet; but there was a chamber-pot, she was glad to see. That was certainly more than the Lord Protector had provided.

As the Crownguard had said, there had been bars affixed around the broad window of the impromptu cell; the mortar barely looked dry where they penetrated the walls. She thought humourlessly on how much work it would be to rehabilitate this room when it had expunged its use as a prison.

And then there was the prisoner himself. Her patient. The guard had not thought to mention the chains affixed to the wall, but he was well-secured by them. There were cuffs at his neck, both shins, and the surviving arm, all held fast by long chains that coiled around him like darksteel snakes. They seemed to allow him a surprising range of motion, and Sarli guessed that he would easily be able to reposition himself in front of the window, should he desire. And yet, he had made no attempt to do so. Instead he was slumped backwards against the wall, peering narrowly at them; he seemed too weak to hold himself fully upright.

Sarli inspected him in a fast, evaluative moment, then stepped forwards. “You will remember me, I trust,” she said, and approached without ceremony to lay her pack down. Cairon trailed at her heels, silent and watchful. “I am here to continue your treatment.”

The elf did not reply. His eyes slid from her to Cairon, and then to Teyron. There they lingered for a while, dark and suspicious. She supposed he must be aware of what that man represented. At all times, Teyron would be watching for any opening or weakness implied in his reactions. The elf had already been silent and taciturn, and she doubted this would help matters.

So she sighed, and beckoned Cairon over. The Crownguard followed as well, which she noted with some asperity. The territoriality was reflexive; a Healer should not be managed in her treatment of a patient, nor crowded in such an unseemly manner. “Are you a Healer’s assistant as well as Crownguard?” She questioned the woman, annoyance lending sharpness to the words.

“Begging your pardon, Healer,” said the Crownguard. “I am protection. He has sufficient leeway in his chains to attack you.”

“And perhaps that would be a legitimate concern nearer the full moon,” Sarli said. “But for the moment, my patient is so weak he trembles at supporting himself upright, even leaning on a wall. If I cannot stop him, my apprentice will. Step back, if you please.”

Two faces went disgruntled at once: the Crownguard’s, and the elf’s. The latter, she supposed, was unhappy with her entirely accurate characterisation of his weakness.

“As you say, Healer,” The Crownguard conceded, finally, and did step back. Satisfied, Sarli went to her work.

Her first order of business was to give her patient a thorough looking-over. In plain daylight, his inhuman skin-tone was more evident, but the sickly pallor held to it nonetheless. His face was a little too pale, and the shadows beneath his eyes were dark. She felt for his pulse, and found it shallow and laboured. His temperature was somewhat higher than preferable, though not yet dangerously so. She inspected the stump of his arm next, removing the bandages and gauze, and noted that it had healed very little at all. It was not bleeding, but the edges of the wound had made no visible effort at sealing, even as careful as her stitching had been. Sarli saw that it was at least not visibly infected, even if the inflammation was severe. Finally she gestured for the stethoscope and listened to his lungs again. Their condition was more advanced now, though she could have surmised that merely by listening to him breathe.

For his part, the elf bore the examination stoically, flinching only the first time she touched him and then not at all thereafter. At last she sat back and observed him. “Will you take your medicines of your own accord?” she asked, and he blinked slowly at her. There was no hostility in his eyes, only a weary resolution. Outside of the dark, they lacked their uncanny phosphorescence, and seemed a great deal more human.

“I will not,” he rasped, as he had once before. The Crow Lord’s spy watched avidly from the corner.

She inclined her head. “I respect your pride, and your force of will,” she said. “But it is my duty to heal you.”

The elf’s eyes slid briefly to Teyron again. She expected him to remain silent after reminding himself that they were observed, but he surprised her. In that terrible rattling voice, he said “Your duty, to heal one who is already dead.” It was not quite a question, but had the taste of one regardless.

Sarli considered the words, feeling in them some edge of a culture unknown to her. There was significance here that she was not privy to. “I know nothing of the ways of your kind,” she said at last. “If you think you are already dead, then perhaps you are. I cannot heal a corpse. But I am human. If you are not beyond my aid, then the alleviation of your suffering does remain my duty. I will see it done.”

He exhaled, and the sigh would have been silent if not for the crackle of his lungs. He descended into a brief, painful series of wet coughs, then he met her eyes. They were oddly steady. Again, that rasping voice: “I have heard of how human healers alleviate suffering.”

In the corner of her eye, Sarli saw Teyron shift, less with interest than with wariness. She could read the thoughts, there. The elf’s words were not quite an overt invitation of a more permanent mercy, but they skittered close enough that an information specialist might fear what she would do.

And well he should. It would be easy, after all. No one could stop her from mixing the lilium a little too potently. It would spare him his pain. Spare him the suffering of the next few days. Spare him the inevitable torture that would come, should he survive.

Sarli regarded the elf, expressionless. Beside her, Cairon was very still. “You speak of the mercy-killing that a Healer may practice as if you would invite it,” she said, at last, and he made no objection to the words. Just watched her. “You refuse to eat or drink on your own, and accept no medical aid that is not forced upon you. In this regard, you behave as one seeking to die.” Sarli watched him, and nodded to herself. “…But I think that there are limits upon that intention, for you. If you truly wished to end yourself, none could stop you. Yet you have not.” Slow and deliberate, she set the stethoscope fully aside, and reached for her medicines. “If you will not do it yourself, do not ask it of me. I will not be the instrument of your destruction.”

The elf looked away, deliberately taciturn. There was a flicker of frustration in his expression, but nothing else. She wondered if he had been wishing that someone would take the decision from him and enact his death themselves. She wondered if his strange culture, such that it was, forbade direct suicide. Either way, he had not died, and he was not yet upon the nadir of suffering and despair that would see her change that.

Not yet. But she had given the quiet death before, and might well give it again, should there be a need.

Silent, she gestured to Cairon, and received the needle and the lilium from his hands.

“Know this, my patient,” Sarli said finally, and watched the elf’s eyes turn guardedly her way. “Once Mercy becomes a knife, there can be no more Mercy thereafter. But where life persists, there is Hope of change.” The words sat holy upon her tongue, and she lingered for a moment beneath the weight of them. She exhaled, silent, and finished “This is a lesson that the centuries have taught us very well, and that you would do well to learn.” Then she kept at her work, eyes steady on her tools. She did not look for her patient’s reaction.

When she lifted her eyes to regard him, he was very carefully expressionless. If her words had provoked any response in him, he was allowing none of it to his face. Stoicism stared back at her. There was a light tremor in his living arm; she eyed it, finished her assembly of the needle and reservoir, and reached out to prick the skin. He barely twitched as the lilium joined to his blood, soon to bring him the relief from pain that she had promised; but only that. No more. Her Mercy was not yet a knife.

The elf endured the treatments in silence. She had come prepared for the notion that he might not accept medical aid, but even so, the medicines that could be administered to the blood were not many. The lilium, yes. The anti-inflammatory as well. But she had no recourse to treat his fever if he would not drink. She sighed, and set it aside, well within his reach. “If you change your mind about accepting medical treatment, this here is for your fever,” she said, and he glanced at it. “It will aid your body in fighting the infection. Consider it.”

He blinked, slowly, then looked deliberately away. Apparently he was done with speaking for the day.

She accepted it, and then finally rose. Her old bones ached from kneeling for so long, but she refused to show the duress; she handed the bags to Cairon and then turned to leave. “I will return tomorrow, in the morning,” she stated, to the Crownguard and the observer both. “If there is any change in his condition before then, send for me.”

They murmured their assent and bowed lightly as she left; she waved off her escort and left with Cairon without ceremony. He was very quiet, saying nothing, and watching the guards they passed on their way through the castle. Though his expression was well-schooled, she knew him well enough to see his unease.

Once they were upon the streets, surrounded by the hubbub and bustle of the castle-city, he finally ventured to speak. “Did you mean what you said back there, master?”

She glanced at him, and found him looking troubled. “I rarely say anything I do not mean, Cairon,” she answered, just a little wry. “But perhaps you should be more specific.”

He looked away, not meeting her eyes. “’Where life persists, there is hope of change’,” he quoted.

Sarli considered it. “Yes. I spoke it truly.”

“You believe that.” He was not one to doubt her word, but he seemed searching now. Uneasy in his skin, as though the answer mattered to him. “Even for…him.”

‘Even for the assassin that slew the king’, went unspoken. Or perhaps, ‘even for an elf’.

For a moment her heart burned with familiar anger, familiar grief. But those were the trappings of Sarli-the-person; thus Sarli-the-Healer breathed out and cast them aside. “Even for him, Cairon, yes.” she said. “Hope is a beacon to every soul.”

The comment occasioned some glances from the people around her; and well it should. It was not lightly that anyone devout spoke ‘hope’ aloud, and a Healer was always devout. “I wouldn’t think someone like him has much in the way of that,” Cairon said, after a moment, and though it wouldn’t be clear to a stranger whether he’d meant hope or soul…

She stilled a little, and cast him a warning glance. She looked deliberately around at those around them. He took the admonishment and fell silent until they were alone again, walking to the mouth of the Valley, and near to home. Then she spoke, before he could, as if no time had passed at all since his badly-placed comment. “His prospects are ill, yes,” said Sarli, “but not hopeless. Never hopeless. You should know better than that. Certainly you should know better than to express such a sentiment in public.” It was a rebuke and a warning both. He should know better. Few indeed were the people who would not.

He flinched as though struck, and did not try to defend his words. Good; if the wrong ears had marked her apprentice saying such a thing, it could cast a shame on her, to have taught him so poorly. And that was the best of the potential negative consequences.

“Perhaps you need a reminder,” Sarli allowed, opening their door and easing herself through. Cairon glanced warily at her, setting out the bags, and she went directly to the bookcase. She pulled out a leather-bound tome, bloody red, a lotus engraved on the cover in metallic silver. It was the work of moments to find the correct passage, and she presented the book to her apprentice without preamble. He took it in his hands and stared at it as though it were a live snake, for all that he had certainly heard and read its scriptures before. She commanded, “Read.”

“…The tools need cleaning, master,” he offered, hesitating. “The medicines need putting away.”

“I will do it,” Sarli said at once, and then again: “Read.”

Again, he hesitated. And then his eyes fell upon the page, and its old sacred tale. He winced at it, very slightly, then finally exhaled. Sarli knew then that he would do as she had commanded, and turned away to begin attending to the tools of her trade; behind her, out of sight, words as familiar to her as her own breath filtered into the air upon her apprentice’s voice.

“’When the Last Light came to Her, She was lingering silent among the death-shrouds, and Her hands were wet with the blood of mercy’…”

Learn, she bade him, in the privacy of her own mind, and finally felt her heart settle from the clamour his public heresy had set it to. It could have been worse. He hadn’t spoken loudly, and his phrasing had been ambiguous; the onlookers might well think he was calling the person-of-discussion soulless, rather than hopeless. Still unsettling for someone not aware of the situation, but not dangerous.

And dangerous it would be, should anyone find him – a Healer’s apprentice – to have verbally denied that the Last Light existed for everyone. Even the lords, even the royalty, secular as they were, would never say such a thing where someone might hear.

Her apprentice thought himself very subtle, and often he was. But not always. And certainly not around her.

Be more careful, Cairon, she thought to him, though she did not speak. I will not always be here to protect you.

“’…this is a dark time, and its shadows may stretch for many years. / But I have something to show you, and I wish for that you will take heed. / So come with me, and I will show you Hope / In the dark of a thousand shadows…’”

 ---

She was warm; she was comfortable; she didn’t hurt. Rayla slept, and slept very well.

The lilium kept her under for the first span of the night, blotting out the shifts and sounds that would ordinarily wake her. It ebbed after a while though, and a thin edge of pain made her blink groggily awake. The tent was not dark; Bait glowed in his sleep, and the egg glowed too. That was normal. Everything was fine. She went back to sleep.

A while later she stirred again, feeling the warmth of the tent ebbing as the night’s cold encroached. But it wasn’t so bad. She went back to sleep.

Later, again, she woke with the disorienting sensation of sudden and unexpected contact. She made a surprised noise and cracked her eyes open to look. Callum had burrowed himself into her side, all curled-up, like he was cold. The lilium must have still been in effect, because all she did was sleepily think oh, that’s nice, take a drowsy moment to appreciate his warmth, and go back to sleep again.

The final time she woke that night was to a dragging awareness, somewhere in the back of her sleeping mind, that something was amiss with someone’s breathing. Not right. Not normal, for the middle of the night. She dragged herself to consciousness, eyes opening. She checked Callum first, who was still plastered against her side, deeply asleep. This time she had enough presence of mind to feel flustered about it. There was nothing wrong with him, though, so she turned her head to inspect the rest of the tent’s occupants…

…and found Ezran sat upright, plainly awake, running a hand calmly and absent-mindedly over the shell of the dragon egg. He didn’t look like he’d only recently awoken, either. He had the look of someone who’d been sitting up for a good while, quiet and weary in the night’s stillness.

After a moment, he seemed to notice that she was watching, and his eyes slid her way. He looked so tired. “…Hi, Rayla,” he said, voice hushed and quiet, as if to avoid waking anyone else up.

She blinked, then squinted, half sitting up. “What’re’y’doing awake?” she questioned, words a little slurred and incoherent from sleep. “It’s only…” she groped at her Moon-sense, which was growing rather weaker as it waned. “…three. Three’n the morning.”

“Huh. Is it.” He seemed vaguely interested, as if he’d had no idea what time it was before she told him. And…she supposed he hadn’t. What must it be like, being human, not knowing at all times what the time was? She made an impatient noise at him, and then he seemed to realise she’d asked a question. “Oh! Um.” He glanced down at the egg in his lap, hesitant. “Zym’s awake.”

Rayla frowned. She’d been worried, in a half-asleep sort of way, that he’d maybe been kept up by nightmares, or grief, or both. But… “And that woke you up?” she surmised, and he nodded tiredly.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Can’t get back to sleep, either. It’s…hard to be asleep, when someone’s in your head being all…awake.”

She considered that, thoughts slow and groggy. “You tried putting him down?” she asked, eventually.

“Yeah,” he said again, morosely this time. “It helped a little, but not much. He’s just…awake.” He patted wearily at the eggshell. “He used to be mostly-asleep all the time, before the storm. Now it’s more like he’s…I don’t know, a regular baby or something. Asleep a lot. But not all the time.”

She’d heard elf parents complaining about their babies keeping them up all night; she thought of that with a vague sleepy humour, finding the circumstance of the baby Dragon King keeping the child King of Katolis awake to be weirdly amusing. Unfortunate, though. “That sucks,” she said, eventually, still struggling to manage anything more coherent. She did not feel properly awake.

“Mm.” He shrugged tiredly. “Not much I can do about it, though.” His eyes slid back her way, and lingered. “Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet…”

“Kinda,” she supplied after a moment. “I could tell someone wasn’t asleep. Wanted to check everything was alright.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Ez watched her, eyes just a little too luminescent in the dark for it to be normal. It could have just been reflection from the egg…but it wasn’t. “You should try to go back to sleep, then,” he said eventually. “Just because I can’t get back to sleep doesn’t mean you need to be awake.”

Rayla accepted the sense of that reluctantly, aware that she was tired and really did want to sleep, and that there probably wasn’t anything she could do to help Ezran by being awake. But, even so, it felt a little wrong. “I can sit up with you, if it’d help,” she offered.

He shook his head. “Nah. Thanks, but…it wouldn’t really help anything. And you need your sleep.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a baby dragon in your head being unhappy about how squashed he feels,” Ezran pointed out.

She sighed. “Fair enough.”

Callum chose that moment to make a tiny murmuring sound and curl a little further into her side, all balled-up, one hand settling with its fingers curled over her waist. She stiffened, abruptly reminded that he was there, being cuddly, visibly so, and Ezran was awake to see it-

Even tired as he was, Ezran very plainly did see; his eyes flickered to his brother, and a trace of a smile lifted his lips. “At least one of us is getting a good night’s sleep,” he commented, with a lightness to the words, like the sight had pleased him somehow. “He looks pretty comfy there, huh.”

Her shoulders hunched defensively. She half wanted to turn away, to shield Callum from view, but it was a little late for that. Instead she held herself stiffly motionless, cheeks prickling with heat, and said “He’s just – cold. He’s cold and I’m the biggest warm thing around. That’s all it is.”

Ezran barely twitched before shaking his head. “Nah. Callum’s just like that, when he sleeps. He’s either moving about and kicking the covers off or he’s hugging. He doesn’t really have any in-between. You should see him at home – he usually just ends up hugging a big pillow or something…” He tilted his head, looking at them. “But, yeah, maybe he’s cold too. He does look kind of…balled up.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was cold, but then she noticed he’d picked his cloak off the floor and slung it around himself. He didn’t look too chilly. “Right.” She muttered, self-conscious, and tensed a little further when Ezran cast his brother a thoughtful look and reached over.

He touched his fingers to Callum’s neck and smiled. “He’s so sleepy,” he said, affectionately, and lingered there for a few moments longer. “And, yeah, he’s a little cold.”

“I said so,” Rayla said, vaguely soothed by this apparent corroboration, but-

“And he’s warm and comfy where he is, and it’s nice.” Ez finished, drawing his hand back, settling with the egg again. “Or that’s about what I can get from him when he’s asleep, anyway.”

She didn’t say anything, but could feel the flush rising in her ears. She was entirely, acutely aware of the weight of Callum against her side…and the way that he, too, felt pleasantly warm. In the end she made a sort of vague, disgruntled noise, too embarrassed to offer something more coherent.

Ezran looked at her, then. He seemed almost curious. “Do you not mind, though?” he asked, inquisitive. “I remember you were annoyed about him moving around in his sleep, around when we first started travelling. And now he’s cuddling you.”

Rayla looked away, face hot. “…If you try to push him off, he just comes back,” she muttered in the end, half-exasperated and half-flustered. “He doesn’t even wake up. Just…” She nodded towards him without actually looking, because she wasn’t sure she could particularly cope with the sight of Callum’s sleepy face and messy hair right now. “Easier to get a full night’s sleep if I just leave him.”

She didn’t realise her misstep until a few moments later, when she became aware of Ezran’s silence. She looked up at him, and found his watchful gaze on her. “So it hasn’t just been tonight, huh?” he asked, plainly picking up on what she’d given away. She grumbled again, but didn’t answer, averting her eyes. More thoughtfully, as if to himself, Ez said “And you don’t mind.”

“Who says?” she retorted, disagreeably. She’d certainly minded plenty near the start, after all.

But, again, Ezran was thoughtfully quiet, for long enough that she eventually glanced back at him. In the shadows, the faint luminescence of his eyes was striking; something she’d expect more of her own kind than his. With those eyes on her, he said again “You don’t mind.” It wasn’t at all a question, and strangely, her breath caught. She found she couldn’t answer.

Ezran looked at her with such a solemn weight of knowing that she felt stripped bare, felt exposed, as if she faced a priest of the Moon's Shadow instead of a ten year old boy. A priest of the Shadow, with the eyes to see the secrets hidden beneath her skin. She stilled, oddly shaken, until the moment passed and Ezran nodded, eyes falling on Callum again.

“Good,” he said, softly. “That’s…good. Callum needs more people who’ll care about him.” Before she could flush at that, he smiled. “And he always has been pretty huggy.”

Uncomfortable, Rayla glanced down at Callum’s sleeping face. Only half of it was visible at the moment, with how he’d smooshed it into her side. “I noticed,” she said, a touch dryly. Then she hesitated. “Ezran…” He looked at her inquisitively, and suddenly it was hard to force the words out. “You…are you going to tell…” she trailed off, not even entirely certain what she was asking.

He fixed her with that oddly penetrating look again, as if he knew what she was trying to say better than she did. As if he understood, even without having touched her at all. “Am I going to tell him he gets cuddly with you when he’s asleep?” he offered, now with a little spark of mirth in his eyes. She stared narrowly at him, suddenly absolutely certain that he was enjoying this. “Or that you’re okay with it?”

There was something about the way he said that last part. Teasing, like he meant something else. Something more horrifically embarrassing, like ‘that you’ve got a huge crush on him’, or possibly another equally terrible equivalent. Was she imagining it? Did he actually guess that she – or was she just overthinking…?

She looked at him again. At the tiny smile, the knowing look, the glimmer of mischief.

Yeah, he knew. Or at the very least, he knew more than she wanted him to.

Her face burned, and her shoulders hunched as she looked away. She’d hoped to keep this hidden from him, even despite his empathic abilities and uncomfortably astute people-reading skills. She’d been an idiot. It would never have worked for long.

“Any of that,” she agreed, in the end, not meeting his eyes. She was so hyper-aware of Callum’s presence now that it almost itched, that she wanted to push him away. But she didn’t want to risk him waking into this conversation, of all things. As it was, she was thanking the stars for how much of a sound sleeper he was.

Ezran smiled, tilted his head consideringly at his brother, and hummed. “I guess I won’t tell,” he decided, in the end. “Callum can be kind of slow about this kind of thing, so it’ll probably work out better if I don’t say anything. At least for a while.”

What was that supposed to mean? Slow about what? What would work out better?

Still. She could at least appreciate the decision he’d apparently made. Rayla glanced at him warily, but though he was clearly having a good time with the topic, she didn’t see any duplicity in him. Her shoulders eased a little, and she sighed. “Thanks,” she said, begrudgingly.

“Plus, it’ll be way funnier to watch you guys if I don’t tell,” Ezran added helpfully. Rayla glared at him. “What? It’s true. Last night was already great, with how you laid all over him like that, his face was hilarious-“ at her tiny strangled noise, he cut off, looking at her inquisitively. “What? Do you not remember?”

She hadn’t, until he’d mentioned it. But now…the memories were hazy, and dreamlike in that characteristic lilium-drugged way, but they were there. “I do now,” she muttered, tense with mortification, suddenly awash with the recollection of how nice it had been. Drugged-Rayla had found such an entirely uncomplicated contentment in the whole thing that it warmed her even now. “Ugh.” Then, since he already knew, and she might as well: “This is exactly why I was worried about taking the lilium.”

Ezran stared at her. “It is? I thought it was because you didn’t want to act weir-“ He stopped. “Ohh. I get it. You don’t want to act all crushy around Callum.”

Her shoulders went up, and she reflexively looked down at the human prince pressed into her side to make sure he was still soundly asleep. Thankfully, nothing had changed on that front. Still- “Shh!” She hissed at him, prickling with self-consciousness.

Undaunted, he said “You were fine, you know. Just kind of cuddly. Cuddly’s fine.” He indicated his brother’s sleeping form, as if to present it as evidence. Rayla followed his gaze and pinked. “He’s, you know, a cuddly person. So he was surprised, but…” Ezran shrugged.

She intensely wanted to escape this conversation. But it wasn’t like she could just…leave. Opening the tent would waste all the heat and leave them all properly cold for the rest of the night. So she did the only thing she could: “Enough talking,” she said, firmly, ignoring the flush in her cheeks. “You should try to go back to sleep now.” Seeing him open his mouth to object, she added sharply “Try. Even if you can’t. Laying down with your eyes closed is still better rest than being up and awake all night.”

“Aw, fine,” Ez accepted, and eyed her. “You’d better try to go to sleep too, though.”

She sighed. “I will, Ezran.”

He extended a hand over his brother’s side, littlest finger befuddlingly extended. She stared at it warily, uncertain what he meant by it, and after a moment he prompted “Pinky promise?”

“What in Xadia’s name is a pinky promise?”

“A promise you make by linking your pinky fingers and shaking them,” he explained. “Means you can’t break it. So?” He waggled the finger.

She’d always thought they were called ‘pinkos’. “I don’t have pinky fingers, Ez.”

Undeterred, he said “That’s okay. You can just use your last finger. It’ll count.” So, sighing, she relented and extended her left hand to link fingers with him. He shook it twice, very solemnly, and then the promise was – supposedly – sealed. He looked very satisfied with himself. “There,” he said, and leaned back. Then, true to his word, he gathered up the egg again, repositioned the grumpily half-asleep Bait, and planted himself down on the ground, eyes determinedly closed.

It looked kind of comical, actually. His face was a little screwed up, like he was trying to stubborn himself into unconsciousness.

Glad for the reprieve from the uncomfortable conversation, and mindful of the weird human finger-vowing custom, Rayla settled back down herself. Callum hadn’t shifted much when she sat up before, and didn’t shift much now. He just pressed his face into her shoulder instead of her arm. She glanced at him one last time, for a very long moment, and then closed her eyes. Sleep followed soon after.

 ---

 Rayla woke again a few hours later. It was a while past dawn, and though the Moon would still linger above the horizon for a few hours yet, its recession pulled at her. Habit brought her awake with unerring ease at that sensation, so she blinked her eyes open and rose. Callum mumbled incoherently as she displaced him; she glanced at him quickly, but was relieved to see he was still asleep.

She sighed, quashing the increasingly-familiar flutter in her chest, and carefully extracted herself, reaching out to pull his fingers out of the wool of her jumper. That complete, she shuffled over to the tent doors, noting that Ezran had evidently managed to get back to sleep at some point…though, he was stirring now. That was unusual. Usually he slept as deeply as his brother, and didn’t budge even when she moved about. He sat up and yawned as she started undoing the door toggles, blinking sleepily at her. “Morning, Rayla,” he greeted, after a moment, voice rough.

One look at him and she recalled the middle-of-the-night conversation they’d had, and the mortifying details therein. She offered him a wary half-smile, folding the tent-door back. Instantly, it was colder; the air between the two tent layers made goosebumps lift on her skin, even with most of it swaddled in wool. She shivered, but reached outwards for the next door anyway. “Morning,” she echoed, after a moment, fingers working carefully at the toggles. Her left hand prickled with a strange numbness as it moved, clumsy as if cold, even though it was just as warm as the other one.

The outer door opened, and the air from outside was so frigid it felt like a slap in the face. She grimaced, inhaling sharply, and that inhale half-burned her lungs with the biting chill. “Ugh,” she said, and a few seconds later, Ezran made a similar noise as the air hit him.

“Oh, wow,” he said, sounding a little impressed. “I guess the tent really does make a difference.”

“That’s kind of the point, yeah,” she agreed, then forced herself outside.

It was a very bright morning, even now. The sun had just about poked past one of the mountains, and the sky was a pale, clear colour almost devoid of clouds. What little cloud-wisps there were moved noticeably; it was still relatively windy. She squinted against the brightness, then ventured out. Frost crunched beneath the boots she’d apparently slept in.

There hadn’t been any more snow in the night, so the area she’d cleared hadn’t particularly filled in, but it was white anyway. She frowned at her footprints, stamping a few times experimentally, and confirmed that it really was just frost. Frost, at least a couple centimetres thick. She turned around and found it had settled on the exterior of the tent as well, turning the whole thing pale and icy-looking. “Ugh,” she said again, disgruntled, knowing that they’d need to clear that off before they could pack it.

She’d headed over to the burned-out campfire by the time Ez followed her out, having pulled his boots and his cloak on, shivering. “What’re you doing?” he asked her, as she piled in their remaining firewood and went for the flint. He had Bait in his arms, the toad looking half-asleep and as grumpy as ever.

“It’s a cold morning,” she said. “Better have a hot drink or something before we go. It’ll do us good. Plus, I think our meat is all frozen, so we’ll need to heat up breakfast, too.”

“Oh, right.” He paused for a moment to think. “Can I help?”

“You can take the scarves and gloves and stuff off the snow-people,” she offered, dryly, and nodded to the line of icy sentinels at the edge of camp. “Since you and Callum apparently forgot to do that last night. They’ll need warming, too.”

Ez winced. “We did forget.” He sighed, put Bait down by the fire, then trotted off to obey. He returned a short while later with some particularly frosty winterwear, which she put close-ish to the burgeoning fire. Hopefully not close enough to catch alight. “Are we going to wake up Callum soon?”

She glanced consideringly back at the tent, which she’d left entirely open. “Cold will probably wake him up on its own soon enough,” she estimated. “But sure, why not.” So she stood and went, Ezran apparently deciding to follow. She found Callum curled up and shivering on top of her cloak, chasing the last vestiges of warmth, shifting like he was on the verge of awakening. She rolled her eyes, then reached through the tent-layers to poke him in the thick wool socks over his feet.

He giggled, apparently ticklish, and squirmed when she poked him again, and then finally cracked his eyes open. He peered at Rayla, then at Ez, as if not awake enough to comprehend what he was looking at. “Cold?” he offered, in a sort of incoherent questioning complaint, and then squinted at the brightness of the light from behind them. “Mm…too bright. Shut the curtains?”

Ezran snickered. Rayla lifted an eyebrow. “No,” she answered, helpfully, and watched him blink a few times more. He frowned.

“Tent,” he realised, seconds later. “Camping. Mountains. Right.” Finally he pushed himself up, then frowned. “Why am I on your cloak?”

Beside her, Ezran’s face was suddenly beset by an enormous grin. Rayla pointed her finger at him sternly and said “No.” Turning back to Callum, she added “…Probably it was warm, or something. Give it here, though, I’m getting chilly.” She ignored Ezran’s expression and prodded Callum until he was up and pulling his boots on, then reclaimed her cloak. He seemed to wake up a little when she started struggling to get it around her shoulders alone; for all that her hand didn’t hurt at all anymore, the motions for pulling clothing on still tugged unpleasantly at the wounds on her arm and shoulder, and she was all-too-aware that the lilium had worn off.

Rayla sighed, and lingered in place while Callum sat up to help her with the cloak. She was getting used to that, but it still rankled a little. She carefully didn’t look at his face, too aware of Ezran watching them.

“Thanks,” she said, when he was done, then receded from the tent doorway. “Now get up. We’ve got a long way to go today.”

“Don’t we have a long way to go every day?” he asked, pulling his boots on, and she snorted.

“Generally, yes. But considering how many days we’ve been sat around lately, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He seemed a little surprised to see the fire re-lit when she led him out, but settled under the explanations of breakfast and a warm drink easily enough. “It’s a good idea,” he agreed, a little ruefully, settling to hold one of his icy gloves over the fire, just far enough not to burn. “I feel all numb and cold and stiff, kinda. Would be nice to warm up a bit before having to move.”

“We’ll all feel fine when we’re walking.” Rayla shrugged, and checked on the water. “But, yeah.”

A while later, when they’d all had some pine tea and they’d boiled some meat into a bland but serviceable semblance of breakfast, he glanced at the stiff way she was holding her arm and inquired about her pain levels.

She blinked at him owlishly. “Hurts, but not any worse than usual?” she offered, shrugging. Almost on reflex, she flexed her bad hand, as though to chase some of the familiar stiff ache from it, but there was just…nothing. No pain at all in the hand itself. In the wrist, sure, but the hand?

It didn’t feel normal. But it didn’t hurt, either. She wasn’t sure what to think about that.

He noticed the motion, of course. “Is your hand bothering you?”

She sighed, and looked away. “No.” Her voice was a little short. It didn’t hurt. It was bothering her, though, just…in a way she wasn’t sure she was ready to think about yet, let alone talk about.

He accepted that easily enough, even though he plainly wanted to press further; he was so annoyingly considerate. “Alright. Well, I was just wondering…” he glanced at her arm, hesitated, then went on. “…if it’s been long enough that it’s safe for you to take willow bark again. So you can take something for the pain while we’re travelling.”

Rayla blinked, nonplussed.

“You didn’t think of that, huh?” Ezran spoke, observing her reaction, and she frowned.

“I didn’t,” she said, after a moment, and considered her injuries, invisible past the bandages and several layers of clothes. “It’s…hm.” Eyes narrowing a little, she thought about it. It wasn’t like there wasn’t still stuff going on under the surface. Willow bark probably would slow or disrupt that. But, at this point, the seal on the wounds was solid enough that it wouldn’t necessarily be dangerous.

“Rayla?” Callum prompted, when she’d been quiet a long time.

“I think it’ll make me heal slower,” she concluded, after a while. “…But, now I think about it, I’ll barely be healing at the moment anyway, so…I might as well?” She shrugged, and felt a little lighter; it was undeniably cheering to think of maybe having some painkillers to tide her through what would be a pretty physically-demanding day.

She’d already got caught up in the relief of that idea, so was a little taken-aback when Ezran squinted at her and said “Why not?” She frowned at him, confused, and he elaborated. “Why aren’t you healing at the moment?”

“Oh.” Somehow, even after spending so long with them, confirming every day that they were human…she’d forgotten they wouldn’t know. So, with a false nonchalance, she nodded towards the sky, where the pale crescent of the sinking Moon still remained, washed out in the bright blue of daylight. “It’s New Moon soon,” she explained, averting her eyes from theirs. “It’s just…like that. For Moonshadow elves.” She scowled a little. “Especially without moondust.”

“Oh, right.” Callum nodded, as if remembering. “You said you’d be weaker at new moon. I didn’t know it affected stuff like your healing too, though.” He hesitated, looking at her. “How far away is it?”

Rayla grimaced. “Three days, ish. Including today.” She hadn’t in her entire life seen an unmedicated elf at New Moon. The ones who were crazy enough to go without moondust hid themselves away for the duration. She didn’t know what it would be like, but…

“And it’s already making you heal really slow?” Ez seemed morbidly interested. “Even days away?”

She was quiet for a while, uncertain if she wanted to admit it. “My healing, and my senses, and my strength.” Her voice was curt. “I’m weaker already. It’s not so bad yet, but in a day or so…” She shrugged. “No avoiding it, I suppose, but I’m not looking forward to it.” It was nagging at her, even, in a strange insistent way that she wasn’t used to. There was an animal awareness in the back of her mind, intent on the waning Moon, itching and whispering at her as if to say that she wasn’t safe, she wasn’t secure, she needed to find somewhere to hide before it was too late…

Callum and Ezran shared a glance. “Can you tell us what to expect?” Callum asked, trying for pragmatism, though she could tell he was worried.

She snorted. “No, not really. People tell a lot of stories about natural New Moon, so it’s hard to know what’s true.” She squinted at the sky. “I’ll have a better idea the day before, though. By then I should be able to tell how hard it’ll hit me.”

He hesitated. “Is it…” he seemed to struggle for the words, and she looked at him until he managed it. “Will it be dangerous? For you?”

Her first instinct was to snort dismissively at the notion, but then she paused. “…No, probably not,” she estimated, after a little more thought. “If I was sick, maybe, it could be a problem. Or if I was more badly injured.” She glanced at her arm consideringly. “We get sick easily, at New Moon. If that’s worse off of moondust…” A pause for thought. “I suppose the worst case scenario is my arm getting infected.”

Callum looked dismayed. “Rayla, that is dangerous. Infections are bad.”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, they can be,” she acknowledged. “But worst comes to worst, we’d just have to hold out for…Half Moon, I suppose, or anything past it. That’s one bonus of not being on moondust.” She grimaced at the thought. “Moonshadow elves off moondust are pretty impossible to kill with infection, near Full Moon. So, there’s that.”

She didn’t mention, because she doubted it’d help anything, that people tended to tell tall stories about the extremity of weakness that the New Moon brought. Stories that indicated that an unhealthy elf could sicken and die so quickly that they were gone before the Moon could turn back. But she wasn’t that unhealthy. She had injuries, maybe, but she didn’t have anything that could suddenly get worse and really mess her up. She should be fine.

Her hand, though. She recalled the weird experience she’d had the first time the binding had loosened, and twitched. If the human healer was to be believed about the dangers, that could have been the sort of thing that’d go wrong at New Moon. But, thankfully, she was plenty past that now.

The words had apparently reassured Callum, at least. “Well, thank Mercy for that,” he sighed, then looked at her curiously. “So, if you have a sick Moonshadow elf, do you take them off moondust to help them recover, or…?”

Rayla rolled her eyes at him. Trust Callum to get curious about the details of it. “Not if it’s close to New Moon,” she said. “Then they’ll just get worse. Or – actually, they get better for a day or two, then they get worse fast.” It was something she’d been taught about, with regards to first aid in the field. If someone was sick or severely injured near Full Moon, you stopped their moondust, and the influx of magic would sort them out once the drug left their system. But if the Moon was waning, it wasn’t worth the risk.

“But the full moon makes you recover,” he said, thoughtfully. “Do you heal faster, too?”

She glanced at her arm, momentarily pensive. She wondered what it would look like, when the Full Moon had passed. “Yeah.” Shaking her head as though to dispel the thought, she shoved a jar of icy cooked meat into Callum’s hands, and said “Heat that up, would you? I’ve got some packing to do.” She took that opening to escape the conversation, too-aware of the throb of her wounds and the strangeness of her hand.

She left the boys by the fire as she went around the snow-banks, pulling the wrapped slabs of frozen meat she’d shoved in there for cold-storage yesterday. The venture had been successful enough that divorcing the supplies from the surrounding ice was a little challenging; the snow had turned icy, and clung to the packages in sharp-edged clusters. Finally she brought it all back to the cleared space and got to work.

It was an annoyingly long time until they were ready to leave. Heating up breakfast took time, getting frost and ice off of their stuff took time, getting the contents of their waterskins to melt into something drinkable took time, and getting their gloves into a fit state to be worn took time as well. Rayla was fully impatient when at last they could put the pot away, and even then…

Reflexively, she tried to pick it up one-handed. Left-handed. It felt heavy; her hand shook, and her wrist ached, and the pot slipped from her fingers. A pot, and it was too heavy to hold. Her jaw clenched, and she reached with the other hand instead. She lifted. That, at least, was properly effortless.

Is it always going to be like this? she wondered, dismayed, keenly aware of the unhealthy fatigue in her wrist. Then, ruthlessly, she shoved the thought away. She tucked the hand carefully against her side, and went back to the increasingly-familiar awkwardness of trying to conduct camp chores with only her right hand available.

The dull ache of her damaged wrist harried her until, eventually, she took some willow bark between her teeth and chewed for long enough that all her pains went a little further away. It wasn’t as effective as the lilium, but her mind was clear, and it was a relief not to have to travel with her wounds searing at her so terribly.

“Right,” she said, when everything was finally in order. “Let’s get moving.” She pulled on her gloves at last; the fabric itched and tingled strangely on the skin of her left hand.

The boys checked their snowshoes, hefted the straps of their bags, then tromped over to her where she waited at the edge of their former camp. She settled her own straps over her uninjured shoulder, glanced around to make certain they’d not forgotten anything, then started walking.

“Goodbye, snow-people,” Callum said to their icy constructs, both boys waving the things farewell as they left. Despite herself, Rayla shook her head at them, and smiled.

 ---

 The snow was icier today, and a little easier to walk on with the snowshoes. That was a mercy, considering literally everything else was harder.

Just a few days ago, the initial burst of mountain-hiking had set Callum’s legs to aching more fiercely than he’d ever experienced in his life. He’d acquired soreness from combat training plenty of times over the last few years, but that didn’t hold a candle to the stiffness of legs unused to walking uphill for days on end. Then the thundersnow had happened, and he’d had a chance to recover. There’d been some walking yesterday, but not enough to reduce him to the same state as before.

He suspected that would change today.

The going was almost entirely upwards, and it was steep. Even with the snowshoes, it was hard to find his footing, and in places he pretty much had to climb, bracing his hands against rock directly in front of him to pull himself up. Ez, being considerably shorter, needed to be helped up those parts, Bait riding in his sweater to free up his hands.

It made him miss the first few days of their journey, a little; back when the ground had been level enough he’d been able to draw as he walked. Now he didn’t dare look at anywhere except where he was putting his feet.

…Most of the time, anyway.

He couldn’t really help staring around with wide-eyed wonder, sometimes. Every time they crested a slope or finished climbing the steeper sections, he could look ahead or behind and see the mountain range sprawling out around them. The angle wasn’t quite right for him to see all of the way they’d come, but some of the lowlands were visible anyway. They looked impossibly green and verdant from where he was, up on the mountain with its snow and ice.

It was weird to think that, mere days ago, he’d been somewhere warm enough to not feel the chill biting at his fingers. There wasn’t even much sunlight to help warm him; the clear skies of the early morning had given way to a patchy, sullen layer of clouds. It made for some pretty scenery, what with the rays of light casting between them over the landscape, but it didn’t soften the chill at all.

The cold wasn’t all bad, though. It created some really beautiful things. Callum found himself admiring the branching twigs of a leafless shrub, eyes following the strange frigid crust they’d accumulated. Ice clung to the undersides, an inch long, in an odd rippling pattern that made his hands itch for charcoal. Ice was on everything today, but this looked different. Where most every other grass and shrub around them was white and lumpy with thick frost, this looked clear and almost glassy. He tilted his head to see the watery light glimmer through, thinking of how he’d shade it.

It was then that Rayla nudged him, breaking him from his reverie. “Something interesting?” she asked, eyebrow raised. He offered an embarrassed laugh.

“Er,” he said, and indicated the shrub. “Just…that. The ice on it. It’s pretty.” He shrugged.

She looked blankly where he’d pointed. “…It’s twigs.”

“Pretty twigs,” he insisted, lips twitching. “The ice is really interesting! Sort of…wave-y? Ripple-y?”

“Kind of like icicles, maybe?” Ezran suggested, sounding a little winded as he leaned in to look. He evidently wasn’t having any easier a time with the walking than Callum.

Callum eyed the shrub appraisingly. “Yeah, something like that. Like sort of…lengthways icicles.”

Rayla shook her head at him. “It’s ice on twigs,” she said, exasperated. She was smiling a little, though. “Nothing special.”

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Callum announced, in staunch defence of the icy twigs in question. “And I want to draw it.”

She rolled her eyes, then reached out to tug at his cloak, beckoning him onwards. “Uhuh. Sure. But later. Now’s for walking.”

He mock-saluted, hand to his chest, and walked.

It was tough going. A mere hour later, his head was fogged with exertion and his legs were burning, and he seemed constantly out of breath. It wasn’t as though he was unaccustomed to the feeling of tightness in his chest, of labouring for steady breaths for what felt like hours on end – but it was distinctly different to experience it free of the usual panic or distress. He got out of breath during training, sure, but – not like this. Not in this strange, persistent way, where even the short breaks they took didn’t seem to help.

Given the exertion, it took him a while to realise that the breathlessness was a little weird. A lot of the walking was more like climbing, and it made sense to be panting during that. But they came to a plateau around midday, and walked on nearly-flat ground for a good fifteen minutes, and he still couldn’t quite catch his breath. “…Is it just me,” he managed, between gasps for air, “or is it weirdly hard to breathe today?”

Ezran’s breath was huffing and puffing too. “Not just you.”

Rayla glanced at them, and then at the mountain range ahead of them. “It’s the altitude,” she said, plainly, and both of them turned to blink at her, still plodding numbly onwards.

Callum frowned. “What?”

“Why we’re finding it harder to catch our breath,” she clarified, waving at the mountain. “It’s altitude. When you’re up high enough, the air’s thinner. Harder to breathe.” She shrugged. “And we’ve climbed a lot today.”

“…Oh,” he realised, nonplussed. Ezran, for his part, seemed too busy staring exhaustedly at the sky to have many thoughts on the matter. “Isn’t that mountain-sickness?”

“Same thing, different names.” Rayla agreed, pausing to stretch out her legs and shake them a little, as if to dispel some stiffness. Whether it was the oncoming new moon, or just the harshness of the ascent, she seemed to actually be feeling the exercise for once. “We must be past three thousand metres now. That’s when most people usually start getting mountain-sickness.”

He considered asking what that was in feet, but didn’t quite get around to it before his brother spoke. “That’s a lot of metres.” Ez mumbled, tiredly.

Callum glanced at him, then back at Rayla. “Should we be…worried, about this? I don’t know much about mountain-sickness, but can’t it get pretty bad?”

“We’d need to go a lot higher for the breathing to be an actual problem,” Rayla said, shaking her head. “But let me know if you get weird headaches, or feel sick, or dizzy. That’s the stuff to watch out for. For now, though…” She hummed pensively, and narrowed her eyes at the scenery. “…I’m thinking we won’t have to go much higher than this. It’s not like we’re trying to summit anything. We’re just trying to get onto the next mountain.” She tilted her head to scrutinise the route. She pointed out a vaguely-sloping plateau a fair distance away, somewhat lower on the mountainside than their current position. “I reckon we can start going down again that way, and then find somewhere to camp past there. That’s got to be a couple hundred metres lower. Should be easier to breathe.”

“Sounds good,” he sighed, and lifted his face to a cold breeze. He hadn’t expected to be grateful for the freezing weather, but with how hard he was working…if it had been warmer, he might have passed out by now. He pulled in a few more unsatisfying breaths, then pushed onwards.

After about half an hour, they stopped ascending quite so viciously and instead began a meandering up-and-down path along the mountainside, heading steadily downwards. This was when Callum discovered that going down mountains was just as hard as going up them, albeit in different ways. It was so icy that they had to take it painstakingly slow, and even then he felt constantly on the edge of a nasty fall. His toes crushed together at the fronts of his boots, beginning to grow sore.

The third time Callum slipped on ice and had to be steadied from falling face-first down-slope, Rayla went away and snapped a branch off of a large pine, shearing off its needles with her blade and scraping off most of the bark. She judged it against his height for a few moments before unceremoniously chopping several inches off the end. “Here. Walking cane.” She said, presenting him with it, and went off to go find another branch, which she prepared for Ezran.

They mumbled thanks at her, exhausted, and continued their descent with somewhat greater poise than before. The descent pulled at different muscles to the ascent, so his legs weren’t complaining quite as much, but the fronts of his toes were starting to hurt in that sharp way that suggested there’d be blisters soon. He’d never had blisters on the front of his feet before, and wasn’t especially looking forward to the experience.

The pine-canes weren’t sturdy, and Callum snapped his after less than an hour. By that point though he didn’t need it as much, so he just went without until – finally – Rayla glanced at the sky and announced their lunch break. “Oh, thank Mercy,” he muttered, dropping his backpack with abject relief and collapsing to the ground.

Ezran lowered his with rather more care, but made an incoherent noise of gratitude when he finally sat down. “Shouldn’t that be Fortitude?” he mumbled, tiredly. “Since we made it this far without falling over?”

“Speak for yourself,” Callum huffed, wiping a hand over his face. Even through the gloves, he thought he could feel the livid heat of his skin, warmed by exertion. He imagined he was probably super red-looking right now. “I’ve fallen over tons of times. Or…nearly fallen, anyway.”

Rayla lowered her bag and the tent pack carefully, as though being mindful of her other shoulder, then collapsed with obvious relief beside them. “You have a god of not-falling-over?” she asked, sceptically, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Not a god,” he said back, just a little amused, eyes closing as he panted for breath. “Paragon.”

“You have a paragon of not-falling-over?” she corrected, and when he opened his eyes to glance sideways at her, her lips were twitching.

He snorted, then closed his eyes again. He half wanted to turn over and plant his face directly into a snow bank. It’d help him cool down, at the very least. “Pretty much,” he sighed, and after a moment of consideration, did reach to his side and pick up a handful of icy snow. He smooshed it onto his face, the ice crystals a little sharp-edged on his skin. “Endurance, and willpower, and keeping going even when stuff’s hard.”

“Fortitude’s a good Paragon for us right now, I think,” Ezran said, sounding exhausted, and Callum offered a wordless hum of agreement.

“If this had been an official mission, people would’ve sent us off with him, you know,” he said, almost wistful. “They’d have said ‘Fortitude follow you’. And ‘Prudence guide your feet’. That’s traditional for big or important or tough journeys.”

Rayla offered a dubious hum. “Well, this journey’s definitely all three of those.”

For a while, they just laid there, getting their breath back, trying to cool down. Callum’s under-layers began to feel cold and clammy with the sweat, indicating they’d probably smell terrible later on. He was too tired to bring himself to care.

Eventually, Rayla pulled herself up, even though she plainly didn’t want to. “Right,” she said, determinedly, in as bull-headed a manifestation of Fortitude that anyone could have asked for. “Food. We can’t take too long with this break, so…food.”

Callum made a face. “I’m really not hungry.” In the wake of the sheer exertion of the morning, eating seemed unthinkable. The mere notion turned his stomach.

“Yes you are. You’ve just not cooled down enough to feel it,” Rayla refuted, pragmatic, and went for the reserves of cooked meat she’d put in her bag. “It’s hard to eat after exercise, but when you’re on a stupid long journey, you do it anyway.” She opened the jar and waved it aggressively at them. Both of them complained pitifully at her, but she wasn’t having any of it. In short order they’d both reluctantly withdrawn a portion and sat up to start nibbling on it.

“You’re like aunt Amaya is about breakfast,” Ezran muttered, mouth part-full, chewing around the bite he’d taken. “She’s really bossy about that too.”

Rayla looked nonplussed. Plainly, she wasn’t sure what to think about the comparison.

“Imagine if we told her that,” Callum put in, uncertain whether to be amused or alarmed at the thought. “Wonder how she’d react to being compared to an elf.”

“She’d definitely make a pretty weird face,” Ezran offered thoughtfully. “She’d probably be glad Rayla’s making sure we’re eating, though.”

She grimaced at that, looking like she’d swallowed something sour. “Don’t know about that. She’d just stab me for running off with you two in the first place.”

Callum opened his mouth to protest, remembered the depth of his aunt’s sentiments for elves, then shut it. “…Well, I mean…”

“Don’t worry, Rayla,” Ez said, reaching out to pat her on the knee. “If you ever meet aunt Amaya, we’ll make sure we’re there, and then we can convince her to be nice to you. No stabbing.”

Rayla glanced at him, expression slightly pained. “…If you say so.” It was very obvious, from her face, that she had absolutely no intention of going near their aunt if she could help it. Not for the first time, Callum wondered what kind of reputation Amaya had in Xadia.

“We can keep teaching you sign language, too!” His brother went on, determinedly cheerful. “I bet she’d be too surprised at an elf trying to talk to her properly to, um,” he searched for a word.

“Stab me, clobber me with her shield, or throw me in a dungeon?” Rayla suggested, and both of them made faces at her. Callum, for his part, had recently seen Rayla contend with what would surely have been a fatal stabbing if he hadn’t tossed her assailant off a cliff, and wasn’t particularly keen on imagining any Aunt Amaya variations on the affair.

It was uncomfortably easy to picture, though. He’d seen one of his aunt’s famous Battalion sparring sessions, and she was…very, very good at fighting. Struck suddenly wordless, he said nothing.

Ezran shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Rayla sighed, and for a moment, looked down at her left hand. She flexed its fingers carefully, slow and methodical, and Callum remembered how she’d been looking at it earlier. For all that she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, she’d seemed…unsettled. “Well,” she said, quietly, after a moment. “I guess sign language is…probably pretty good exercise, for this hand.”

“Keeping it moving, helping circulation?” Callum supplied, after calling back to mind the Healer’s advice. “Yeah, I guess it would be. We could do a quick bit of it now, while we’re resting?”

She eyed him, then rolled her eyes. “Suppose. Might as well make it something useful, though.”

“Like what?” Ez asked, intrigued.

“Like watch signals. Check-ins, and stuff. The kind of thing my lot would use ictus for.”

“Huh,” Callum blinked, and thought about it. It wasn’t like he’d not seen military sign language terms being used before, given who his aunt was, so… “Yeah, sure. What first?”

Rayla, apparently, had been drilled thoroughly enough in proper silent report-giving enough that she had a list of important terms ready to go. She determinedly worked her hands through learning the signs to demand a status report, report all-clear, report a problem, and report possible enemies in the area. It was all pretty basic, but she clearly wasn’t used to learning this sort of thing, and…well. And her hand was obviously giving her problems.

He didn’t comment, because he could see she didn’t want him to. But it was slow to move. The fingers trembled strangely in certain positions, and didn’t quite seem to respond right. Several times, between his demonstrations of new signs, he saw her flex the fingers and shake the hand, as if trying to dispel some stiffness that wouldn’t quite deign to leave...

“That’s probably enough for today,” he decided, once she’d navigated her hands through a quick practice exchange of an all-clear status report. “Or, at least, for now. Probably won’t sink in, if we try for more.”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yeah, probably,” she agreed, and glanced briefly at the way ahead. “We should be moving again, anyway.”

“Next time, we’ll teach you something more fun,” Ezran promised.

She glanced his way, smiling a little as she hefted her bags over her one good shoulder. “Like what?”

“Like talking about your favourite foods, maybe?” he suggested, picking up the bag with the egg carefully, and kneeling to let Bait jump onto its top, riding there like a monarch in his carriage.

“That sounds like a good way to get ourselves stupid hungry with nothing good around to eat.” Despite the words, she sounded amused.

Callum thought longingly of the castle meals, and regretted not eating more at lunch. Rayla had been right; he really had been hungrier than he’d felt at first. “Still nice to think about,” he said wistfully. “Give us something to look forward to when this is all done.”

“Suppose.” When he looked at her, she looked a little wistful herself, as though she were caught in similar thoughts of home.

As they started to walk, he glanced at her sidelong, and eventually asked “So…what are your favourite foods, back home?” If, as she’d claimed, everything in Xadia was magical…did that include the food? What did magic food taste like?

She hesitated for a moment, like she wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to say, or even if she wanted to. But then she smiled, still wistful, and started describing her favourite Xadian fruits and berries to them, and which ones she’d learned to find and pick herself in the forest she apparently lived in.

He listened to it all, interjecting with questions here and there, and…though she was pretty sparing with the details, started to get a better idea of the place she’d grown up in. A forest full of magic, and wild fruit vines growing on trees tall enough they’d probably overshadow the cliff his home castle was built on. Trees tall enough and immense enough to carve houses out of. It was so fantastical to imagine. Thinking of the wonders of Xadia, waiting so far ahead, made it a little easier to keep walking.

The hour passed like that, with easy curious conversation to take their minds off of the travel, and in the end Callum felt lighter than he had in days.

Even if Rayla wouldn’t tell him what was in a moonberry surprise.

 ---

 In the wake of the storm, the Healer’s house grew busy, and from his sickbed Corvus bore witness to it all.

The first day, there was a stream of miners displaced from the mountain by an avalanche. Broken bones on two, sprains on a few more. A day later one of the same group, only recently recovered from the mountainside, was brought in hypothermic and near-dead, losing two toes and a finger to frostbite before she was stabilised. No one had died, apparently, but it had been a near thing.

Now, the whole town was effectively on standby, waiting for the weather to improve. The tail-end of the thundersnow was still lashing at Verdorn’s periphery, for all that the mine-folk apparently thought it had moved past Farel – and, accordingly, the mines – by now.

“It’ll be another day before it’s safe to go back there,” said the Healer’s wife, a woman named Serris, who oversaw the mines and was apparently rarely home. “So in the meantime, we’ll just have to do our best impressions of directionless layabouts. At least you lot have the excuse of injury, eh?” This last comment she directed at her battered fellows in their beds, a good-natured jibe, and they jeered back at her.

“I’ll be glad to see a little more of your face in the meantime, at least,” said the Healer Marla, her voice dry. “And if you’re so offended by being a layabout, you can come help me mix these salves.”

“A harsh taskmistress, my wife,” commented Serris to the house’s residence, amused, before she went as commanded to help with the work.

Corvus quite enjoyed the company, in honesty. He’d grown accustomed to travelling and serving with the Battalion, and though he was frequently detached for his tracking endeavours, he missed the camaraderie of his fellows. It was good to have people to talk to, even if most of them were as bedridden as he was. And, with little else to do, they all spent a lot of time talking. He was recipient to a lot of questions about his current mission, which he couldn’t answer, and a lot of questions about the Battalion, some of which he could. He admitted when asked that he’d been told to stand by and heal, so wouldn’t be heading anywhere soon.

“I’m to get transportation to Greatport if I can do it without risking myself,” he said, a little wistful. He liked Greatport. If he had to convalesce anywhere, it would have been a good choice. But… “Apparently, I’ll have to hold off on that for a while, though.”

“You certainly will, master Corvus,” Marla said severely, without even looking up from her mixing. “Horseback would be terrible for you as you are now. It’s waiting for a cart to take you or nothing, and we’ve a while until the next of those is due to leave.”

So that was how his days passed, in the thick of the storm. He tried not to spend too much time worrying about the General, or the princes. For better or for worse, he was off the mission now. He just…wished he could have done better. If he had, maybe the princes would be safe now. Instead, he’d undoubtedly driven them straight into that deadly storm, with their captor potentially too badly injured to see to their safety.

He tried not to fret. But it was hard to avoid, when he had frostbitten testaments to the dangers of the mountains convalescing around him. The elf wasn’t the only danger to those boys, was she? And his failure had sent them straight into that gauntlet. He’d wanted to save them, but instead…

Still, Corvus did what he could to avert his thoughts. He’d sent what information he could to Amaya. There was nothing else he could do, at this point.

Except:

“The tavern had some interesting visitors today,” said Serris, after returning from checking in with her workers at the tavern in question. She shot a piercing look at Corvus as she spoke. “A couple of kids, one of ‘em in Crownguard armour. They said they’re tracking that elf.”

Corvus straightened on his headboard. So did everyone else in the house of healing. “Kids?” he repeated, then processed the Crownguard part. There was only one Crownguard he knew of who was young enough to easily be called a kid. He was suddenly at full attention. “Siblings?” he questioned, intent. “A girl with dyed hair? Her brother the Crownguard?”

Everyone was looking his way, now. “You know them?” Serris guessed, after a moment.

Lord Viren’s children, here? “I’ve met the Crownguard,” he said, slowly, mind working furiously. They were tracking the elf? That made no sense. That wasn’t a job for Crownguard, it was a job for the Battalion, the military – for him. And the dark mage…

He thought ‘elf’. He thought ‘dark mage’. Then he thought, ah.

For a moment, it all seemed to make sense. He considered Lord Viren with unease, and everything he’d heard of the man, working so closely with the General. Perhaps he wasn’t content with what could be harvested from the five felled Xadian assassins. Maybe he wanted the sixth, too, and had sent his daughter and son out to that effect…

…except, that didn’t quite fit.

“…Is that what they said?” Corvus asked, after a long silence, aware of the sudden quietness of the room of convalescents. “That they were after the elf?”

Serris eyed him, cautious. She folded her arms. “They tried to hide it at first, but, yeah. They didn’t know you were here, either. Seemed interested in that. They might come visiting soon.”

Corvus made a noncommittal noise, and tried to pore over his thoughts, tried to identify what tasted wrong about this situation. He’d been on a low dose of lilium for days now, and it slowed his mind more than he cared to admit. He needed his wits about him now, because there was something off here. Something important.

Slowly, through the fog, he drew the discrepancies from his gut into his mind.

Viren was Lord Protector now. If he wanted a pursuit of the elf, why not make it larger-scale? Why send only his children? Why not work with General Amaya, who was expressly pursuing the elf already, and surely had the best knowledge of the resources available? Soren certainly wasn’t a trained tracker. He doubted the girl, the dark mage, had that sort of training either, at her age-

He stopped. Examined the thought.

Dark mage. Tracking. Were there spells for that sort of thing?

For the first time, he felt an inkling of anger. If they had a way to find the princes and they’d been withholding it…!

Except that wasn’t right either. They said they were tracking the elf, not the princes. And, at this point, the news that the princes were actually alive probably hadn’t spread very far. So…Lord Viren had sent his children, a talented but inexperienced Crownguard and…a dark mage…in pursuit of an assassin thought to have slain royalty. Why? Were the ingredients worth so much to him? Was there some other motive?

…He’d sent his children covertly. Hadn’t given word to General Amaya, or Corvus would certainly have been notified by now. He wanted that elf found, and either he didn’t trust the General, or…

Or, there was some other motivation at play here. Something secret. Something, perhaps, that the Lord Protector would only trust to his own family.

Corvus recalled, all at once, that the elf had her wrist bound by magic. It was what had given him the advantage in the fight with her, knowing about it ahead of time, knowing what to target, what to exploit…and the Healer had said it was dark magic, hadn’t she? Dark magic, when there were only two dark mages who the elf might have encountered. One of those mages was now here.

Something isn’t right here, he thought to himself grimly, and felt his fingers itch for a quill. Amaya needed to know about this. But…

He sighed. Kora hadn’t returned in a while, so he could only assume she’d been put to work on the other end, relaying vital information to those places and people she was bound to. If he wanted to report, he’d have to do it by the town’s rookery, and send it to the Crow Office for redistribution. That would take time, and he still didn’t have the full story. If the Lord Protector’s children were here – if he could talk to them-

He needed to report. But it would be better to wait until there was more to say.

“If they ask…” Corvus said, slowly, to a dozen keen pairs of ears. “Tell them where to find me. I think we need to talk.”

--

End chapter.

Chapter Notes: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OGBo7nKVDIfWjhxGe90fwaS3lP0IfQJ3?usp=sharing

Link to PIAJ chapter notes folder (Google Drive folder including worldbuilding, commentary, medical notes, research notes, and misc notes for all applicable chapters within this section)

This chapter's notes cover: travel details, the Crow Lord’s office, Hope, Mercy scripture, Moonshadow religion, rare Moonshadow elf abilities.

Timeline: https://docs.google.com/document/d/107eD8zmLAAFBWSOgsLyl8g4pAdQF4EgMh4rpN_m91U4/edit?usp=sharing Link to PIAJ Timeline Google doc ( to be updated as story progresses)

PIAJ Masterpage: https://tenspontaneite.tumblr.com/piaj Link to PIAJ Masterpage on tumblr (containing links to chapters, meta, art, Q&As, and resources) (Link may not work properly on mobile/app)

Author Notes: 

So. It’s been a while. You can pretty much completely blame that on a single scene, which blocked me so hard that it actually kicked me directly out of the fandom. I’ve never had that happen before. I had to slowly claw my way back via my other tdp fics. The scene in question is written now, thankfully. I deferred it to the start of next chapter out of desperation, and then managed to write it all in a mad burst of inspiration the other day.

Various things have happened in my life that you can, like, vaguely catch hints of if you read back on my tumblr, if you’re into that sort of thing. Otherwise:

Credits: more Hogarth inspiration for one Sarli line in this chapter, specifically 'Where there is life, there is hope of change'. It's not word for word in the text, but there was definite inspiration there. I can't quite remember which book it was – In Extremis, maybe? Middle of its series, in any case.

Next chapter is done, and I’m very excited about it. It has some fun content, but most of all: it has my favourite Runaan plotline scene. I wrote it a long time ago, relatively early on in piaj development, and have been in love with it ever since. I’m so excited we’re finally to the point of me being able to publish it. I’m going to write a fucking huge author’s commentary section for that chapter’s extended notes, I have so much to say about it.

For now, though…I like this chapter a lot, actually. I’ve reread it so many times while trying to block-break over the last few months, and normally that would make me sick of it, but I still love it. Really enjoying starting to get to The Good Stuff. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Or some sort of stat enrichment! It’s incredible fuel for the writing engine.

[silverstringscomposed]

“We had a visitor...We may have to keep distance from each other, Aoi...I need you to control yourself. We’ll start everything tomorrow, but...We should keep separated for now.”

Control himself...

Sitting alone in this room....He hates it, it’s cold. Aoi stares upwards towards the high ceiling as he sits on his throne as he recalls what Kenzo had shared with them.

He’s not entirely stupid....His Producer only shared enough in length what was probably deemed enough and the safest for them to know. 

Noboru was first to leave after hearing the basics within the first fifteen minutes into their meeting.

He could carry on as normal, but he would keep his eyes from above the many rooftops he always perched around upon. Keeping an eye on how the Game week would play out from above while covering as much ground as possible with the other Reapers. The redhead was going to be on a short fuse for a few days, but he would be just fine....Aoi was relieved that perhaps Noboru would be the safest or left alone...

Miu on the other hand was asked to leave when Kenzo shared their visitor was from ‘upstairs’ and that she was not allowed to visit the other wards for a while.

Aoi didn’t miss how her eyes widened briefly before slowly nodding, she would remain in the penthouse for a while...Probably allowed to only roam Ginza at the end of the day or when there wasn’t a Game. She would be very lonely....But for her, it would perhaps be a few days just like with Noboru.

Now for him....

Aoi shifts, his back against the hard edge of the arm of the throne as his legs dangled over the opposing one. His head felt heavy, allowing Ginza to basically flow more....Every thought, melody....Everything to the city that was now their home.

Kenzo told him to control himself.

The Song of Ginza always beautiful to them, had to be more structured. Just like the very melodies he once played on the piano when he was alive....The jolts and rush of emotions that once coursed through him and to the city would need to be kept on some level of dullness control. An Angel coming by was new, Kenzo didn’t provide a name and again....Aoi wasn’t stupid.

They would be in trouble if they didn’t keep up some appearance....

Ginza wasn’t an outstanding ward compared to Shibuya or Shinjuku, but it didn’t mean they would be left out of observation. Kenzo and Aoi had been certain they were doing fine, they were a ‘young’ ward again...There was still leeway and honestly, Aoi was beginning to notice how Kenzo and himself weren’t exactly how they were before...

Yet they still kept up their idea of allowing themselves to express something entirely not approved....

Kenzo gave him an apologetic smile as Aoi and him parted, “....I’m sorry.” It felt like a slap honestly, they had been doing so well....At least they thought so, but with what happened tonight....

Aoi tilted his head back, closing his eyes as he gripped his left hand tighter at the phantom pain still there after so many years....

He didn’t want his family to be broken...So this had to be a step, for now.

This was going to be...So hard.

[magioftheseas]

Komahina ;)

;3

Nothing like injured Komaeda getting cared for by the reserve boy. :>

“Don’t you think you’re a bit audacious?”

“Mm.”

“As a reserve, you should know your place, right?”

“I guess.”

“If you keep this up, you’re just going to get hurt, Hinata-kun.”

“I could say the same to you. You’re injured.” Hinata clicked his tongue. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“It’s hard to calm,” Komaeda grumbled, puffing at him. It only brought out the bruises along his jaw and cheek. It’s such a gruesome sight that no matter what Komaeda said to him, Hinata wasn’t going to worry about anything else. It looked like it hurt, like, really fucking hurt—how the hell could Komaeda weather that and still talk down to him? Komaeda even seemed to get more offended the longer Hinata stared. “Just because I’m such an inherently worthless individual doesn’t justify you being the one to look at me like that, Hinata-kun.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” he asks instead of replying, and for what it’s worth, he does feel stupid about it.

Komaeda waved him off dismissively—and his arm is bandaged up, too. Fuck.

“I’m not so pathetic that I need your pity,” Komaeda sneered and it’s more frustrating than infuriating.

“It’s not pity, it’s...” Hinata sputtered. “How do you expect me to feel when you get injured like that?”

Komaeda raised an eyebrow. The one on the unblemished side of his face, thankfully.

“What do you mean?”

“How would you feel if our positions were reversed?” Hinata asked through gritted teeth and, maddeningly, Komaeda did smile.

“I guess I’d feel bad!”

You only guess?! This guy... He’s...

“Intolerable...” Hinata sighed, shaking his head. “Geez. You’re intolerable.”

Komaeda just laughs like he doesn’t care. Like he doesn’t mind, not one bit.

What a difficult personality... And, yet...

And yet, he was the only one visiting. His phone was buzzing, and when he checks it, it’s just Nanami wondering where he is. He makes a face, uncertain of how to convey he was the furthest from the mood to play games with her that he could possibly be.

“Ah,” Komaeda utters, and Hinata doesn’t look up. He doesn’t even think to acknowledge the other until Komaeda inhales sharply with, “That’s Nanami-san, isn’t it?”

When he does look up, Komaeda is scowling at him. It just makes his marred face look even more ruined.

“It’s a lucky guess,” Komaeda gives as a way of an explanation, but with a simmering tone.

Without breaking eye contact, Hinata just pockets his phone.

“No, it’s my mom.”

Komaeda clearly didn’t believe him. Hinata didn’t care.

“It’s not important, so don’t worry about it,” Hinata said. “I’m here to visit you, after all.”

--

It’s not like he’s completely ungrateful. He knows he has a lot to be thankful for, maybe even too much, as Komaeda would scathingly put it.

When he met Nanami, he couldn’t have been anything other than happy. When she wanted to be friends, he was elated. When she introduced him to everyone else—

Pretty much only Komaeda’s stare of disdain and disbelief brought him to reality.

--

Right. Komaeda was the only one who understood he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He should hate him for that.

Instead, he...

--

“O-Oh, um, you’re still here,” Tsumiki’s stammering as soon as she trips in, only catching herself on the door at the last minute. Hinata does give a friendly wave, but Komaeda is turned away and curled up.

He’s in such a bad mood that he’s not even offering a greeting.

So childish, Hinata thinks.

“He needed someone else to check up on him,” is what he says. “I’m glad to see you, Tsumiki.”

Tsumiki flushes, eyes twinkling. It’s so easy to make her happy that it only makes her more pitiful. But, it’s nice, isn’t it? The way she smiles, the way she giggles as she totters, keeping her hands clasped close to her heart. It’s nice to make someone happy, even if by the simplest means.

Nanami’s certainly easy to make happy, too.

“If Komaeda-san is taking visitors then it should be fine if I look over his injuries, right?” Tsumiki is looking at him so expectantly because he made her happy. She doesn’t look at Komaeda. “Right, Hinata-san?”

Unlike everyone else, Komaeda is...

“You...” And caught in her gaze, Hinata’s voice gets caught in his throat. As great as it all is, it’s still—suffocating. “Komaeda, is it fine?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” is Komaeda’s sullen, grumpy retort. Tsumiki immediately lights up, but then Hinata gets between them.

“Liar.” He doesn’t look at her. He can’t. “The staff nurse said he shouldn’t be bothered. Sorry. He’s been in a mood.”

“O-Oh...” Tsumiki’s voice breaks. “Oh, oh... I-I’m sorry... S-So sorry...! I’ll just...!”

It’s a devastating relief that she immediately runs out. Hinata does swallow, and he wonders if he’s going to get scolded. The sensation of it all makes him dizzy, but...

“What the hell are you doing, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda’s giving him the strangest look; like he’s an aberration, an abnormality, and this is what keeps him grounded. What allows him to suck in his breath and breathe.

“You don’t like worrying other people, right?” he asks right back. “You couldn’t have wanted Tsumiki-san fawning over you.”

You’re not like me, he thinks. You’ve accepted your place.

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you sending her off so rudely.” Komaeda’s bristling with irritation. Actual irritation. He’s the only person who ever regarded him this severely in weeks now. Hinata had almost forgotten what that was like.

Despite the fact that I should be happy, I hate myself enough to want this.

“It’s fine to inconvenience people sometimes,” he said. “You’re injured, so... You should be given some leeway. You shouldn’t be expected to cater to everyone in this state.”

“Your impudence truly knows no bounds,” Komaeda huffed. “Just who do you think you are to lecture me like this, Hinata Hajime?”

Who am I?

“Why don’t you answer that yourself?” he asked, smiling now. “You’re the one who understands me best, Komaeda.”

[dwellordream]

“...As they created their special variant of childhood and parenting, Americans were creating a social revolution fully in line with the political changes that began with the famous revolt of 1776. Both rejected entrenched hierarchy, and embraced independence and more personal autonomy. Both revolutions were uneasy and often hazardous undertakings. Together they made the United States into a very strange place in the world. That strangeness is captured in many of the opinions voiced by articulate Americans in the first sixty years of the republic. 

“Our children,” Nathaniel Willis declared in 1827 as he launched his new publication, The Youth’s Companion, “are born to higher destinies than their fathers.” This vision has become a cliché to us today. But it was alien to most Europeans and would have been unfamiliar to American colonists. For centuries in the Western world, elders reigned and were assumed to possess knowledge and wisdom as well as power. Their welfare and needs were primary and their dictates unquestioned. This perspective is still common in many parts of the world today. Lady Elphinstone of Scotland captured its essential meaning when she declared, “My children from the youngest to the eldest love me and fear me as sinners dread death. My look is law.”

Views like these dominated Old World values regarding the appropriate reverence and obedience of children toward their parents. American revolutionaries had rejected this tyrannical posture in the political arena. In the circumstances of the world they were creating, Americans also rejected such views as a guide to household affairs. Although Europeans, too, were changing their perspective on childhood as they absorbed the lessons of the Enlightenment, and as they responded to the political revolutions erupting throughout the continent, the social conditions of European life made it more difficult for them to change as rapidly or as fully as Americans in regard to how the generations treated each other.

Why and how had things become so different in the nascent United States? Historians of the American Revolution have long understood that the changes articulated in that event were deeper than politics, that they had roots in cultural and social life, and affected the domestic realm and private relations. American children, famed historian Bernard Bailyn speculated over fifty years ago, needed a different, more open- ended kind of schooling. Since they needed to adapt to the new circumstances of a changing landscape, following in their fathers’ footsteps was not good enough. That knowledge was often inadequate to the circumstances. 

Individual resourcefulness and the willingness to adjust to the unexpected and to create the still unimagined became basic values as Americans defined a new type of individual adequate to the possibilities of the new world they were creating. Children, who were less constrained by ingrained habits, had an advantage over their elders in the American environment. At a time when European Enlightenment thinkers were seeking to throw off the shackles of custom and tradition, Americans reorganized their lives in ways that unselfconsciously adapted those perspectives, removing layers of tradition and encrusted custom. 

Even before the Revolution, Enlightenment European thinkers, such as John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau, were read with marked appreciation by Americans who believed that these philosophers’ views about children, and about childhood as a formative phase of life, were especially relevant to their environment. John Locke is best known today for political writings that helped to establish the basis for America’s commitments to liberty, for opposing tyrannical rule, and ideas that Jefferson and others used in formulating their views about freedom of religion and conscience. But Locke was also looked to as a pioneer in ideas about how children could be raised to become responsible citizens and trusted to exercise their independent judgment. 

He believed that children were malleable and childhood was a time when habits were laid down that would shape later life. He urged parents to appeal to children’s reason, not to their fear of punishment. Fewer restraints and adult impositions during childhood and a willingness to accept a child’s natural inclinations as a basis for learning underwrote Rousseau’s more radical beliefs in the innate wisdom and natural sensibilities of children. Rousseau looked to rid society of traditional ideas and social patterns by giving children more leeway to grow and time to exhibit that wisdom. 

In tracts written from the late seventeenth through the mid- eighteenth century, these two philosophers helped to shape modern ideas about children that were important throughout the West. For Americans eager to be informed, Locke and Rousseau captured the special importance of childhood to the ideals of a reformed society. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, questions regarding parents and children and what they owed each other were very much part of the American conversation. After the Revolution, Americans eagerly addressed parent- child relations, sometimes with considerable urgency, because they saw the Revolution and republican government as setting special requirements for childrearing. 

Fathers’ injunctions, like kings’ dictates, were problematic in the new society they sought to create. The American revolutionaries spoke regularly of the rule of law and argued that they were trying to maintain liberties threatened by British imperial action. But even as they spoke about conserving older liberties, they turned toward more radical social notions. In attacking the legitimacy of the king— the most revered of earthly authorities— they undercut the unquestioned authority of fathers. That authority remained elsewhere the guiding basis for domestic and social relationships.

 In France, whose own revolution similarly raised fundamental questions about the rule of kings and fathers, republican beliefs initially dismantled patriarchy after the Revolution of 1789, but it was reassembled within a decade as the French republic tumbled and fell. In the United States, preexisting conditions and the continuity of republican and democratic ideas created a context in which social and family changes were sustained and elaborated. Not only were old- fashioned fathers deeply suspect in the United States, but Americans were asking what kinds of children were needed to maintain the revolution that Americans continued to embrace. 

This made matters regarding childrearing part of the national agenda from the very beginning of the republic. Most American historians have not fully appreciated how radically the American environment and the revolution that it spawned were revising the most fundamental of human bonds. European visitors to the United States in the half- century after the Revolution saw it clearly. As they witnessed the behaviors and demeanors of the old and the young, they witnessed a series of historically important changes. The great observer and French political theorist, Alexis de Tocqueville, devoted a chapter of Democracy in America to the unusual nature of American family relations. 

Among chapters registering his observations about (and sometimes disdain for) Americans’ peculiar cultivation of the arts, their transformations of the English language, and their neglect of traditional philosophy, Tocqueville was much more admiring when describing “The Influence of Democracy on the Family.” That influence, he argued, was in line with other leveling effects of the greater equality experienced in the United States. “It has been universally remarked that in our time [1830s] the several members of the family stand upon an entirely new footing toward each other; that the distance which formerly separated a father from his sons has been lessened; and that paternal authority, if not destroyed, is at least impaired.” 

Societies throughout Europe and the Americas were also starting to feel the crosswinds of change, as the Western world came under the influence of democratizing conditions, but Tocqueville found it to be “even more striking” in the United States. Speaking of young people beyond the earliest years, he observed: “The same habits, the same principles, which impel the one to assert his independence predispose the other to consider the use of that independence as an incontestable right.” In Tocqueville’s view, independence in children was more than a practice; it had become a conscious part of a child’s self- understanding. This all took place peacefully, since there was no struggle between the generations. 

Fathers feel “none of that bitter and angry regret which is apt to survive a bygone power.” Instead the expectations had become an instinctive part of the culture as “the father foresees the limits of his authority long beforehand, and when the time arrives, he surrenders it without a struggle.” Tocqueville went on to contrast the quality of feelings in more traditional societies with those in the United States. In the one, the father “is listened to with deference, he is addressed with respect, and the love that is felt for him is always tempered by fear.” 

But in democratic America, as fathers yielded authority, “the relations of father and son become more intimate and more affectionate; rule and authority are less talked of, confidence and tenderness are often increased, and it would seem that the natural bond is drawn closer in proportion as the social bond is loosened.” Tocqueville was probably too quick to identify these two— the social, with its weakened emphasis on hierarchy, and the emotional, whose qualities Tocqueville argued resulted in an increase of “tenderness” on both sides. We would do well, for the moment at least, to separate these two aspects of the changed relationship between parents and children. 

Many memoirs from the period document the former; few tell us much about the latter. Tocqueville’s observations about greater warmth and affection may have been (and not for the first time) an instance of wishful thinking by a social observer eager to believe that natural “feelings” and natural “bonds” would grow when social ties were loosened. Somewhat later than Tocqueville, another observer of American domestic relations, Polish count Adam de Gurowski, concluded that in the United States, children matured early and were early “emancipated . . . from parental authority and domestic discipline.” 

In this way, Gurowski accounted for the observations common at the time that “[c]hildren accustomed to the utmost familiarity and absence of constraint with their parents, behave in the same manner with other older persons, and this sometimes deprives the social intercourse of Americans of the tint of politeness, which is more habitual in Europe.” Many Europeans commented on the rude manners of American children, but few appreciated, as Tocqueville and Gurowski did, that this resulted not from parental laziness or indifference to child governance but from a different kind of disciplinary regime. 

One who did and who made the contrast with European children explicit was the author of a volume called America as I Found It. “English children in the presence of strangers are reserved and shy. They feel that the nursery and school room are their proper sphere of action. . . . Most unlike to these is the sentiment of the American, both parent and child. The little citizen seems to feel at a surprisingly early age, that he has a part on the stage of the world, and is willing enough to act a little before his time.” 

The notion that children believed they had a part to play on the stage of the world was an unusually effective way of seeing that American children had large expectations and they were early trained toward the appropriate habits of mind and demeanor. Probably nowhere else in the Western world could one visit the homes of respectable families and find children who so easily took part in the family circle and were so comfortably regarded as equals, not as subordinates or dependents. 

In fact, throughout the West during the nineteenth century, middle- class opinion was endowing children with special appeal and setting childhood apart, and family practices were distinguishing children’s activities from those of their parents. While Americans, too, saw something precious and important about childhood as a stage of life, their cruder conditions and more demanding economy made it far less likely that children would inhabit an exclusive world in nurseries and at play away from the travails of the world.”

- Paula S. Fass, “Childhood and Parenting in the New Republic Sowing the Seeds of Independence, 1800–1860.” in The End of American Childhood: A History of Parenting from Life on the Frontier to the Managed Child

[doe-eyed-and-angel-kissed]

1️⃣ The One Where Shikaku Invites Trouble

Really. Whatever Inoichi says, this is not Shikaku's fault. Shikaku is a good shinobi. The Hokage clearly instructed them to build goodwill within the Daimyo's court. It's just a bonus that one of the highest ranking nobles approached him and introduced him to his latest conundrum.

That's Shikaku's story and he's sticking to it. Stop laughing Inoichi!

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Sarutobi Hiruzen stared at the two of his most promising shinobi. Namikaze Minato stood impassively before him and Nara Shikaku is on a slouch that was seemingly perfected by his clan.

"The second eldest son of the Daimyo was found dead yesterday at one of the Daimyo's residences. The period of mourning will start tomorrow for the family." The Hokage let his two ninjas digest the information. The family's period of mourning will last 5 days and then the public mourning will happen for another 5 days. The last day will include the funeral where the second son will be entombed on the family catacomb.

"That would mean that you would be expected to attend the 5-day mourning period in the capital."

"Yes Shikaku-kun. I want you and Minato-kun to be part of my contingent."

Minato nodded. "Was there a suspicion of foul play?"

"There's always a suspicion of foul play in these cases Minato." Shikaku is the one who answered. "Nobles may not have the same tutelage as us but they're sometimes more creative at making murder to look like a suicide or an accident."

The Hokage did not dispute the Nara heir. The Daimyo sometimes asks the Hokage to look at suspicious deaths in his court. But this time it is not the Daimyo but his heir, Hirohito-sama, who sent a second missive.

He relayed the information to Minato and Shikaku. Judging by their eyes  they got his underlying message. Building amity between the next generation ninjas and nobles is the main reason for asking the two of them instead of one of the older ninjas.

It is never too late to foster bonds that will help their village. Aiding the heir of the Daimyo is a definite way to do it. It may seem crass to capitalize on their grief but Sarutobi Hiruzen is the Hokage of their village and a ninja. As ninjas, they always need to know how to turn the tides in their favor, exploit every opportunity, and aid their village in whatever way necessary

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Shikaku went to apprise his father of the situation.

His father only gave him one piece of advice. "Try to figure out who would stand as the General for the heir when he ascends. I know that the current general hailed from a known samurai lineage."

Shikaku hates it whenever his father starts his advice with 'try to' because it actually means he better do it. He could also bet his napping hours that his father knows more than what he said about the samurai general. By his father's grin, whatever Shikaku will find out will be a huge headache for him and entertaining for his father.

Shikaku thought of the likelihood of the Hokage agreeing to just switch him out with Inoichi, since the Yamanaka would definitely get a kick out of the mind games of the court. Or maybe one of the Hyuuga twins or Fugaku since their clans are crazy with politics.

"Oh! That's the scheming face!" Inoichi's gleeful voice greeted him when he arrived at Chouza's. He spent the whole way there designing scenarios and then immediately shutting them down because he knows the Hokage will never go for them.

"Now that's the resigned face. What are you thinking about Shikaku?" It's really good Chouza is there to balance out Inoichi's exuberance.

Shikaku ignored Inoichi and turned to Chouza towards the low table in the living room. "Just a new mission. It's politically inclined and you know how I feel about that."

At their looks, he elaborated. "The second son of the Daimyo died. It was suspicious. The kicker was that the heir is the one who sent the missive."

"Meaning, there is a divide within the court, more pronounced than usual. The Daimyo may be appeasing both sides and ordered his son to intercede on his behalf or the heir is going rogue and acting on his own suspicions." Inoichi immediately supplied.

"What did Shikatsu-oji say?"

Chouza took one look at Shikaku and snorted, "Oji-san gave one of his try to do this or that advice, huh?"

Shikaku didn't even bother to answer. He just plopped his head on the table and proceeded to ignore his two snickering best friends.

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The palace at the Capitol is as opulent as Minato imagined. Uniformed guards lined up along the wall that sequesters the palace in the middle of the Fire Capitol.

Rumors that the circular base of the palace is due to a fuuinjutsu-added security by one of the successful Uzushio refugees may not be so baseless. Kushina hounded Minato, before he met with the other contingents, about that rumor.

Twelve years after—what the Shinobi nations refer to as the Collapse of the Whirlpool—Konoha's staunchest regret and there is still no concrete evidence about any Uzumaki other than Kushina. If this trip to the Capitol can give Kushina some resolution about what happened to her nation and meet a fellow then all the more reason for him and Shikaku to create a more permanent rapport with the ruling family. Even if the formal garb is itching on Minato and he can clearly see Shikaku and other members of the contingent to be fidgeting as subtly as they can.

With the Hokage up front and his two guards, greeting the Daimyo and his family, Minato and Shikaku are left to their unspoken side-mission.

"I don't see the heir," Minato observed. All of them familiarized themselves with the whole family of the Daimyo. It is a breach of protocol to not be present at the arrival of the Hokage.

Shikaku muttered a low, "Troublesome." Shikaku catalogued everybody and found out that the current General is indeed a samurai. He is standing at the Daimyo's right, two steps behind the ruler. His stance is impeccable, the alertness is clear, and it is fairly obvious that the General is someone to be reckoned with. Shikaku can undeniably see the usefulness of such person.

Shikaku felt a pointed stare from his left and saw the missing heir clearly motioning for him to follow.

Shikaku signalled Minato and it didn't take him long to trail after the heir. He found Hirohito-dono at the end of the corridor clearly waiting for him.

The smile he got, when the heir spotted him, is pained and obviously forced. Shikaku guessed that only the long-ingrained social etiquette allowed the heir to graciously greet him.

"Nara-sama, I hope your journey was well."

"It was, Hirohito-dono. The Hokage and the whole of Konoha express their condolences."

The smile got even more pained, "Thank you. Please send my acknowledgement to the Hokage and to your village. Konohagakure has always been good to the family and supportive of the current regime."

Oh. Shikaku finally got it. The reason he's so restless about the mission. And the constant thought of, what's so different about this suspicious death?

My acknowledgment. Not my family's acknowledgement.

Good to the family. Not my family. Distancing himself from the current regime.

Oh. This is. Oh, so troublesome.

Although slim, Shikaku knows there may be a slight chance he might be reading too much into the heir's words. But the heir's words and actions point to a planned usurpation.

His Hokage needed to be informed right away. Shikaku and Minato are given a great leeway but it does not take a lot of thinking to know that a takeover by the heir against the Daimyo during this time with, what looked like, help with Konohagakure elite ninja is not on either of their purview.

They were walking for about 5 minutes—the heir was prattling about the structure of the palace and the famous arts that surround the hallways—when Shikaku noticed the circuitous way the heir is taking. At Shikaku's askance, Hirohito just gave a shrug and a wink. The move appeared more natural.

Shikaku is even more baffled by the shrug and wink than the plan of usurpation. Was the pained smile and grimace the sham or was it the easygoing attitude?

The layers and level of deception Shikaku is being privy to makes him think that the heir is quite confident the Hokage will back the play that the royal have for the Daimyo's place.

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The Nara heir briefly thought that he was being herded towards the office of the royal. The polished hallways giving into cobbled stone made him think otherwise.

They stopped at the archways that lead towards the palace armory. The heir stepping sideways and urging Shikaku to enter first with a telling grin does not inspire any sort of positive feeling to the jounin. Given the current circumstance though, Shikaku is confident that no permanent harm will happen to him.

Five steps in and Shikaku is ready to just blab to the Daimyo and let the heir get executed.

One second he saw a black-haired person, wearing a funeral garb, tending to a very sharp-looking sword,then in a blink he had the said sword right at his throat.

The woman—because with that face, it is clearly a woman—moved alarmingly fast from being cross-legged on the table in the middle of the armory towards him. It is all that Shikaku can do to snag the woman's shadow to stop her movement. She still managed to poise her sword on his neck.

Everybody is frozen, with Shikaku's hands in the air and the Heir looking thoroughly amused.

"Hirohito-sama, how many times do I have to tell you? The armory is off-limits to visitors and you should not startle me."

The heir stepped forward and gestured her sword down, "He's suitably cowed, my lady."

The said lady gave Shikaku a considering look. She gave a challenging smile. "Desist your shadows, Nara-sama."

Shikaku nudged his chin towards the sword. "At the same time, hime-sama?" At her nod, the shadow receded while Juko lowered her sword.

If Shikaku is only a split second slower to connect their shadow his throat would have had a gash. As it stands, Shikaku's throat would no doubt have an angry red line. Her sword felt so cold it burned even if it barely touched him. That is no ordinary sword and he'll label her a ninja if not for her obvious samurai stance.

The blue of her eyes really lent well in throwing icy glares to the two of them. And while Hirohito looked to be somewhat immune, Shikaku is not lowering his guard.

"Minamoto Juko," the heir presented grandly, "Meet Nara Shikaku-sama, the heir of the Nara clan and Konoha jounin."

"Shikaku-sama, meet Juko-chan. She's my carer, sentinel, and the brains and brawn of the operation."

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

GeekGem’s Cartoonverse

*While there will be more added...but I’ve shown this to a friend and also @pikablob I think I just want to share this. I don’t think it will be a major thing or not on here. But the fact...this was made on Friday...an index of my...thing. And I wanna make jokes about it. Spoilers ahead for Hilda and Wander Over Yonder. Stuff may changed. But I tried to explain this the best I can. This is what I kind of been focusing more on.*

For a long time, multiple worlds and universe’s have been mainly separated from each other. With many existing in their own reality. But something changed that.

During the events of, “The Windmill” when Victoria Van Gale tried opening a breach to the Nowhere space that was so big. It was happening during the events of, “The End Of The Galaxy” when Lord Dominator tries to destroy the last planet in a galaxy where the remaining living inhabitants are hiding out.

When the breach is happening, the machine becomes damaged and goes haywire. All while Wander tries to save Dominator from dying in her own exploding ship.

These events were happening at the same time. And when Dominator’s ship finally exploded during the breach, a shockwave effected not just that galaxy...but multiple dimensions that weren’t fully connected. 

Because of these events. The multiverse in a way broke, somehow connecting multiple worlds and universes that weren’t connected before. While Hell had more leeway with the amount of worlds it had. Being somehow connected to the world of the Boiling Isles, and even the likes of Endsville.

It was because of Victoria’s attempt to open a breach so big, and Dominator’s ship exploding, many worlds started to coexist now without problem. All thanks to the Nowhere Space, and the shockwave caused by the massive explosion. 

For many, no one knew this happened. But few started to see something had happened. One of them being Eda Clawthorne when her portal to the human realm was not always sending her to the one Luz came from...but other Earth’s.

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Cartoons.

Netflix: Hilda. Possibly Kid Cosmic.

Disney: The Owl House. Wander Over Yonder.

Cartoon Network: Courage The Cowardly, Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends. The Grim Adventures Of Billy And Mandy. And due to Villainous confirming a Cartoon Network multiverse, all the shows are somehow connected because of Black Hat Industries.

SpindleHorse Toons: Hazbin Hotel. Helluva Boss. Hell for a long time had more leeway of connections to other worlds. But now it has been expanded due to the aftermath of what had happened.

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Stories.

Johanna’s Unexpected Visitor: Johanna gets a visit from a masked robber. But for some strange reason, he decides to hang out with her after stealing her stuff. After this, Johanna is traumatized by the event and starts to learn some defensive moves in case it happens again.

An Owl Lady In Trolberg: Eda’s first realization that something was off. But was focused on getting human goods to sell. But this landed her in Johanna’s apartment. Despite trying to calm her down, Eda decided to keep her bound and gagged while stealing her stuff.

Luckily afterwards, and Tontu realizing something was off with the Nowhere Space. He is able to get Hilda and Johanna to where this Eda lady is at. After a meeting between them, along with Luz and King being included. Eda apologizes and returns them their stuff. But during the process, Hilda gains a new friend in Eda. Along with Johanna despite being offended at what happened. She accepts Eda’s apology and the two become friends.

Valentino’s Newest Princess: Angered by Angel Dust secretly using the Happy Hotel to hide from him. Val decides to do something extreme, kidnap Charlie Magne, and send a text to her girlfriend Vaggie.

Octavia’s Unlucky Night Out: Wanting to get away from her parents fighting and have peace to herself, Octavia sneaks out of her home for the night. But she is sadly kidnapped by Striker, an imp who was hired by her mother to kill her father. With his plans changing that he’ll use her and her mother as leverage to lead Stolas into a trap.

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Courage Vs Dominator: Embarrassed and enraged by her defeat, Dominator has been preparing for many months to become the greatest villain again. Even though she’s still weakened, she’s gonna try again. 

With a small rebuilt ship, and some of her powers intact. She finds an unknown world and lands in the middle of nowhere. She is amused by an elderly couple who thinks she’s literally just a young woman playing dress up and pretending.

Amused by this, she plays along and soon tries to prepare her domination of this planet. But what she didn’t plan on that was their dog Courage who clearly saw her landing, who has been trying to expose her for who she is, is not just a dog.

Despite terrorizing and scaring this easily frightened dog to her heart’s delight. She soon realizes he’s not gonna stop without a fight.

Courage Meets Eda: During another visit to a human realm she didn’t intend to go to, Eda winds up in the middle of nowhere and meets Muriel and Eustace Bagge. Despite Courage being horrified by her being a witch. The dog soon gains Eda as a friend before she leaves.

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Hilda And The Pumpkin Headed Prankster: During a visit with Eda. Hilda meets unfamiliar face they have known heard about. But when he meets Johanna and soon discovers Eda has been in this world, he starts unleashing chaos and plans to make Johanna spend eternity with him forever.

Knowing she needs help unlike she hasn’t before, Hilda goes to Eda. But for Eda, things start making sense when Hilda starts speaking about the person she met, and when they start looking through his belongings. Eda realizes this is an old friend of hers who may of not been telling the whole truth of who he is.

Now Hilda and Eda must do what they can to save Johanna and stop Trolberg from going into complete chaos.

Hilda And The Greatest Villain. Eda Vs Dominator: It’s been a while since the events with Jack. And Eda has been weakened since Lilith was able to share the curse with her. And Johanna has been feeling odd and questioning herself as a parent. Especially her relationship with Eda.

During all of this, Hilda meets another person she has not heard much about, who only calls herself D. But it is really Lord Dominator hiding out in Trolberg after her embarrassing defeat by Courage.

Hilda befriends the woman, until she realizes D is more like a bully than what she hoped for and gets D into trouble. But after Dominator learns a lot of things from Hilda, such as her mother, Eda, and even the events with Victoria Van Gale and her windmill, she starts planning.

Dominator soon learns why there are similar planets named Earth, and why there have been these portals to other worlds. And that her ship exploding was among the reasons this all happened. But what she possibly needs is some extra power to enhance herself. And she see’s Eda as a possible source.

Despite everything that’s happened to them. Hilda and Johanna soon face a person that they never wanted to meet. Which makes it more fun for Dominator as she decides to tell the awful and critical truth of how Johanna is as a parent.

Even though she’s weakened, Eda must help Hilda to save Johanna yet again from someone who will fully test her limit. But that won’t stop her from saving the woman she has grown to care about deeply about. Even if it might risk her into becoming the Owl Beast again.