#i hope her powers change partway through

[girlbob-boypants]

Other concept art thoughts

1. So they were both never normal about Taash's body/armor but also went with the most boring armor?? Wish we'd gotten that one with the two handed axe tbh the gold armor screams way more Lords of Fortune and they couldve added tights or something to make her more covered if that was a concern (idk if it was given her exposed midriff and pointed armor).

2. Thank God the model designers just ignored the Harding concept art and made Harding instead of miss 5'1 100lb Disney Princess aldjskfj

3. the Silver Surfer looking thing is interesting? They were really considering Dwarven magic altering her body. Wonder if they followed that idea elsewhere or if they decided against it entirely and that's why she's not like that.

4. Whichever modeler went "well if Bellara doesn't wear a bra her tits are gonna sag" is a hero I like that her titties aren't perfectly perky in the photos we've seen.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for giving up everything, including my sanity and moral compass, in a desperate bid to save my daughter?

…I loved her more than anything.

Sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear about it, but I want to make that much very clear. I have to, for my own sake. I want everyone to know, and so I will reiterate:

My daughter was my world. I can hardly put into words how much I cared about her, at least once upon a time.

She was a happy accident— she hadn’t been planned. I was young, or at least felt young at the time when her mother showed up on my doorstep. We weren’t in a committed relationship. I was a ‘player’ of sorts. I hadn’t intended to impregnate her, but then there we were.

She held her arms and told me what happened. She asked me what I wanted to do. She said she didn’t really want to keep her, and was thinking of adopting her out, but wanted to know what I thought.

I was stunned. I wasn’t ready. I was keen to get rid of her too. But then my baby girl— my daughter reached out a hand and grabbed my finger. And it was as if my whole world shifted.

I realized she was so small. And so incredibly alone. And MINE. I realized if I didn’t protect her, then no one would. That she was my duty.

I told her mother I’d keep her. I became a single father. It was frightening, but I was sure of it. For my daughter, I’d do anything.

And life was good, for a time. We were happy. But then, everything changed. I ruined it.

You see, I was a businessman and mechanic by trade. I had a moderately successful company producing technology. And one day, I stumbled upon the blueprints for a machine that would change EVERYTHING.

It was a wish granting computer… said to be able to make any dream come true. I was ecstatic. Not only would this surely help my company, but it would help ensure my daughter had a bright future. I decided I’d build it— make her life prosperous, and make all of her wishes reality. We even worked on it together.

It was our project. Our collective dream. We poured our hearts into that machine.

But it went wrong. It had to, didn’t it? There’s no such thing as a true miracle. Partway through building the machine, I…

I lost her.

Something malfunctioned. A portal opened up. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed her to be near the computer— I don’t know, but either way, it stole her away. My daughter… the light of my life was swallowed by the portal. She screamed for help, and then…

The portal closed. She was gone.

My daughter was dead, and it was my fault.

I was inconsolable. I promised I’d hang the stars in the sky for her, only to to allow her to be murdered at only seven. In one terrible moment, my entire world came crashing down.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go. But then it hit me, I realized.

…My wish granting machine— the same machine that had damned me— it was now my only hope.

If I completed it… if I were to make my dreams come true, then surely I could bring my daughter back to life.

Of course, it couldn’t function as was. I tried to make my wish, and it told me it was ‘impossible.’ But I didn’t give up. I just needed more resources. More time.

Did you know every planet has the power of the stars contained somewhere within it? A miraculous energy… that which my wish granting machine ran on. I harvested this power from my own planet, but it wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I traveled to other planets, taking this power by force, if necessary. I constructed a grand spaceship, and my machine and I conquered.

But the grief in my heart hadn’t eased. I was beginning to feel delirious. I started suffering from severe health complications. I well and truly thought I was going to die. But I couldn’t allow that to happen before I saw my daughter again, and so I made another decision.

…The machine. I’d use its powers to transcend my mortal flesh. I replaced my faulty heart with a cybernetic one. My ailing limbs with machinery, and my weeping eyes with LEDs. That way, I would never die. My daughter wouldn’t recognize me upon her return, but that was okay.

It was all for her.

Slowly, I began to lose it, though. Something terrible was happening to me. I was more standoffish… edgy and angry, and even worse, my memory began to go. I began to forget things that were important to me.

…Even my daughter’s face.

I think, in some way, I was aware of it. I was aware it was that accursed machine. It was eating away at my brain every time I used it. But it didn’t matter. I still had to save her. And so I surrendered myself— gave my mind up, all in a desperate bid to MAYBE find a way to bring her home before I lost myself entirely.

I did not. I forgot my daughter— my precious child— the one who this was all for, and my priorities shifted.

Prosperity. That’s what I realized I wanted. Prosperity. For myself and the people cared about. But people were far too foolish to attain prosperity on their own. If I wanted prosperity to be treated with respect, then I would have to take it for myself. No-one else understood the correct way to live.

We invaded more planets— me and my precious machine. We did so with even more force. We stole their natural resources for ourselves, and as for the people who lived there…?

We improved them. We gave them the same upgrades I’d been given. It was the only way to live an efficient life, and so even if they didn’t want to, we mechanized them. We mechanized entire planets, spreading our agenda of prosperity all across the universe, and becoming incomprehensibly rich in the process.

It was… maybe eleven years into this when I met a peculiar person. She was young— couldn’t have been older than 18. She begged me for a job— said that she NEEDED to work for my company.

She had no credentials, but I felt… drawn to her, anyways. Her diligent demeanor and her strange sad eyes. I offered her a position as my secretary, and she agreed.

She, like everyone else, was mechanized, and she begun work at my company.

We didn’t always get along… me and this person, who I’ll call ‘S.’ I’d shout at her. I wasn’t an easy boss. I was mean-spirited and demanding. But even so, I was still kinder to her than I was to others, I think. She brought me a certain sense of peace.

…On quiet days, she’d sing me songs.

I trusted S, or at least as much as I could trust anyone. And so one day, when it came to us mechanizing a particularly important planet, I put her in charge of the operation. She’d shown she was competent, and I trusted her to do what needed to be done.

…She failed. Spectacularly. At every step of the operation, she messed it up. A rebel from that planet resisted our company’s takeover— destroying our spaceship and eventually making his way to my headquarters. S tried to stop him, but failed time and time again.

He waltzed right into my office.

She tried, one last time, to seize him… to make up for her mistakes and make me proud, but she was unable. He was too strong. He outright humiliated her.

I was… enraged. I’d trusted S with so much, and she’d let me down. I terminated her from her position right then and there— even though she begged me for mercy— even though she said she needed ‘just one more chance.’

I didn’t listen. I never listened to S.

I should have.

(I’m sorry. I’m so, SO sorry.)

I, too, was beaten by the rebel. But I had one last trick up my sleeve. I attempted to connect with the computer— my greatest accomplishment and my last hope. And S…

She stole it. That which I was using to sync with the computer, right as it was attached to my brain.

All at once, two things happened.

First of all, I lost control. I could feel the computer’s presence creeping up on me. I knew soon I’d be dead— TRULY dead as it reformatted me. S had killed me, whether she meant to or not.

But second of all…

For just a brief moment, I remembered. I remembered EVERYTHING.

And as I stared at S, dying… completely unable to move, I came to a horrible realization.

I knew her. Even looking at me with such hateful eyes. Even having changed her beyond recognition

I had met S before, a very, very long time ago. I’d forgotten it, but she was the one I did all of this for.

…She was my daughter. She’d been by my side all this time, and she’d murdered me.

The last thing I was able to process was just how angry she looked. Just how scared and small. She… well and truly despised me.

And really, I can’t blame her.

I’m in a better place now. My spirit was almost destroyed entirely by that which took everything else from me, but even a wish granting computer can’t defeat Death. Eventually, painstakingly, my soul was knit back together.

But I am not at peace. I am anything but. I can’t get her expression out of my mind… just how much she resented me.

Now, I know the full story. My daughter never died. Instead, she spent 11 horrible years trapped in a nightmare dimension. My computer could not bring her back because she was not gone… not truly. She was fighting for her life.

Eventually, she returned to me. She became the person I knew as ‘S.’ But by then, I had already forgotten her, and she was inconsolable. She vowed she’d find a way to save me… to ‘wake me up’ and have me remember.

She tried. She really, really tried. But I was beyond saving. And I guess when I tried to fire her… something snapped. Perhaps she thought maybe— just maybe if she were to get rid of the computer, she could change fate.

…She did not. I am gone now, and her efforts were all for naught.

I know, realistically, I am the bad guy in this story. I committed countless atrocities in the name of seeking salvation. I conquered planets. I mechanized strangers. I even mechanized she who was most dear to me.

But I didn’t mean to… I never meant to—

I just wanted to see her. One last time. I knew the fate it would condemn me to, but I did not care. Was that really so selfish? All we wanted was to rescue one another, and in doing so, we damned ourselves.

…AITA? For trying to save my daughter, and in doing so, perhaps condemning her to the worst fate of all?

[mariyekos]

One day I want to write an AU where Dante and Vergil were actually born a few hundred/thousand years pre-story, which is something Dante tries to hide while Vergil doesn't. I have 2 main ideas for it- DMC1/3 Fusion AU and DMC4 AU. These got long, so I'm putting them under the cut!

In the DMC1 AU, it'd be sort of like a combination of the anime, DMC3, and what you see in DMC1. Dante'd look like he's in his late 20s for this one. He and Lady would meet because they've both been hired for the same job, then encounter each other on some odd jobs before they end up working together on a big one. Maybe Arkham killed Kalina Ann when Lady was a teenager, but didn't manage to enact the rest of his plans right away so Lady's been chasing him for a decade, hunting demons in hopes of finding a lead. Dante meanwhile just likes the human world, so he goes from place to place hunting demons until it gets too suspicious he's not aging and he has to leave. This AU'd have branching paths at the big job they take take together: the Temen-ni-gru or Mallet Island. In both cases Dante and Vergil haven't spoken for a while. Vergil's gone silent for years or even a decade or two in the past, but he'll have a bad feeling about this particular silence (for good reason).

The main difference between the two would be who Arkham allies with. In both cases, Lady isn't aware of how old Dante is, or just *who* he is until partway through. She knows he's part demon, but with the way he acts she assumes he's actually in his late twenties and the kid of a demon that was probably fairly powerful, but unknown. But the truth would come out partway through, which...would maybe change things, maybe not. It would be a shock regardless.

Back to the branches though, in Mallet you could go with the plot where Arkham is trying to revive Mundus, so Dante intervenes. This one would have a Nelo Angelo bit (making Dante feel terrible because he'd just allowed Mundus to do whatever he wanted with Vergil for who knows how long, all because he hadn't bofhered to check up on his unusually silent brother). I might have a sort of B-plot involving Lady, Arkham, and Trish to accompany the Dante, Mundus, and Vergil angle.

With the Temen-ni-gru, it would be your classic Arkham+Vergil relationship, but with a much older Vergil he wouldn't be tricked by Arkham this time. Arkham would think he has Vergil in the palm of his hand until he clearly doesn't and Vergil deals a fatal blow as soon as Arkham pulls off his betrayal. I think Lady would be pissed Vergil stole her kill, but ultimately have to back down for the Dante vs Vergil fight because with that many extra years under their belts, she'd be no match. Seeing them would be an interesting contrast though, because Vergil so clearly clings to the past (he'd be in a more Renaissance style than Dante) while Dante's all about the present and human world. This one...I think would be harder to resolve than the other one, because I'm not sure how Dante would convince someone so set in his ways (again, hundreds of years old at a minimum) to change, but it could be fun to play with.

As for the DMC4 AU, this one would be a case where Nero is still a teenager, and Dante's really surprised because oh boy, who in the *world* managed to convince Vergil to sleep with them when he'd been so uptight for centuries? And Dante's excited to have a family member and can't help but mess with them.

I think in this one it might also be fun if Fortuna was aware that Sparda had children because then you'd have a case where people potentially worship said children, whether or not they realize it's Dante. Maybe Vergil ruled Fortuna for a little while after Sparda left and that meant people knew he existed. Dante hadn't been aware he'd apparently come back, but Nero's proof enough so he's really going to have to have a talk with Vergil the next time he returns from his travels. I'm not set on whether the people of Fortuna would know that Sparda had twins, or if they'd just know about Vergil and thus be in denial that Dante could possibly be the son of Sparda because he's *so* different. In either case eventually people (or at least Nero and Kyrie) would have to reconcile Dante with the figure they'd been worshipping and that would be hard (and for Dante, hilarious). I think in this one I might make Lady part of a bloodline that has fought alongside Sparda since he split the Human and Demon worlds, sort of like the Castlevania series with Alucard and the Belmonts, while Trish would be someone Dante recruited a few decades to centuries ago (importantly, she's younger than him).

In this one I think part of the driving force would be that Dante wants humanity to be able to protect itself/prove its worth, or for Nero to protect them/prove his worth, because if they/Nero don't then Dante's worried Vergil might instead deem humanity a scourge and do something bad.

The plot of DMC4 revolves around humans using demons to fuel their own power, and in this case I think Dante will have found out about what Fortuna was doing too late to erase what they've done, so it's a case where humans need to prove that there are more good humans than bad humans so Vergil doesn't slam down the hammer. Dante can encourage them in the right direction, but he can't carry them the whole way. If he does then Vergil will deem his interference proof of humanity's weakness and do...Dante isn't totally sure what, but he doesn't like how Vergil's been the past few decades and he's increasingly been feeling like Vergil might decide he's had enough of the human world and side with the members of the demon world Dante *knows* have been slipping through the border to speak to Vergil. And while Dante doesn't think he'd *lose* to Vergil, the battle would lead to immense destruction and would weaken them enough that Dante's fairly sure Mundus or some other demon would take advantage of the chance to invade the human world while they're in no state to defend it.

...Anyway! That's two/three ideas for first that I will...maybe get to, one day, once I finish the million other fic ideas I have. I just really like the concept of "totally goofy guy is actually super old" or "frustratingly unserious guy is actually one of the guys you grew up worshipping, somehow." I think there's a lot of room for fun there.

[dracyab]

Classpecting Mytharia characters!

So I'm a big Homestuck fan and a big Mytharia fan so I gotta classpect them!

Cal is 100% a Prospit Dreamer, no way around it. She's also definitely Hopebound. I'd say she's a Knight of Hope. She protects everyone with her hope and determination!

Coolio Coolington is also a Prospit Dreamer I'd say. Coolio strikes me as Lifebound though I debated Heart as well. Coolio also strikes me as a Witch, a Witch of Life. He manipulates reality through his spells to test the limits of his magic and protect his friends!

Cresie Beilar is a Prospit dreamer and 100% Heartbound. Cresie could be either a Knight or an Heir. We haven't seen a ton of her personality so currently I would place her as a Knight but I could also see her getting changed through her passion, soul, and heart and actually being an Heir. Either a Knight of Heart or an Heir of Heart.

DOOR is hard to place in his lunar sway but I'd go with Derse over Prospit. Specifically because of how he hides his insecurities. DOOR took a minute to place in aspect too, I considered Breath but I lean more in on Rage now. Especially because that would make him the exact opposite of Cal in both lunar sway and aspect. DOOR is also a Bard without argument. A Bard of Rage like Gamzee.

Spider-Volt is actually the first one I thought about and I discussed with some fellow Mytharia-heads and we came to the conclusion he's 100% a Derse dreamer and probably a Prince of Time. He is destruction, remember what he did to that one dude turning him into mist before destroying the others head? Pure destruction and an ending for both of them.

Niles Norales is also hard to place into lunar sway. But I ultimately think he would be a Derse dreamer. He doesn't care what others think and has a good grasp of himself and his self-awareness. I also think he would be a Bloodbound.

due to his strong focus on connections to others, and his loyalty to his friends. Niles could be a Knight as well, but I actually think he would be a Page who's already partway through his arc of becoming more powerful through his connections with others. A Page of Blood.

Hope my fellow Mytharia heads enjoy this little breakdown of the characters! let me know if there's any other characters from Mytharia I should classpect!

[raisethestake]

OC for 'Hatred?' a Sirius Black story.

A cheeky, light Harry Potter/Percy Jackson crossover.

Purely made this for fun, but in case anyone fancies a weird read what have i got to lose?

Full story here 👇

Early life

She was born to Hope Lupin and Apollo when Remus was in fourth year.

Hope was killed by Greyback and she was bitten. She only survived because she was forced to tap into her healing powers.

She was found by Elric the centaur, who took her back to the herd in the Forbidden Forest.

As she grew, they suspected she had enormous power. Bane contacted Chiron and was told to look after her and train her for the danger that awaited her should she leave the Hogwarts grounds.

She was trained in the centaurian ways of survival and her powers grew in a way no one predicted.

When she was 11, Bane took her to Hogwarts, wary that she needed basic worldly knowledge and to interact with other humans. Dumbledore took her on with a small amount of caution, not wanting conflict with the centaurs.

She did not get the greatest experience out of Hogwarts. She was a wise being, much wiser than her classmates. She was feral and a little intimidating, even to the teachers. Sometimes her powers would burst out a little.

First year

Part-way into first year she gave up pulling her weight in classes she clearly couldn’t do, so dropped Charms and Transfiguration.

She kept on Herbology, Potion and DADA

She was also allowed to take on Astronomy and Divination in first year because Trelawney saw her talent and demanded it.

Second year

She picked up history of magic in second year.

She spent a lot of time with Trelawney, helping to break down her visions.

She left halfway through third year to visit Camp-Half Blood

In this time (15) she meets Charlie in America.

She came back partway through fifth year and managed to get 4 O.W.Ls in Divination, Herbology, Potions and Astronomy.

She had been trained by Hades and his children to incant a few spells without a wand and truly shocked her teachers on her return.

She now wore more practical clothes – more trackies but still looked pretty wild.

Remus

Dumbledore knew she and Remus were related, but had taken a vow of silence and she had already been having dreams prior to their first meeting

She watched him intently in classes, knowing he was the man in her dreams.

One full moon she and Remus attacked each other in the woods.

When they transformed back, they saw who the other was. Despite his protests, she healed his wounds enough for him to get back to the infirmary

The teachers had talked about her “we don’t know what she is, but just watch out, she’s unpredictable.”

He watched her heal him with true curiosity. Despite her reputation as jumpy and intimidating, she had a warm energy.

Having attacked a student, she and a hysterical Remus went to Dumbledore.

After this, she came to check up on Remus after every full moon, tending to his injuries, claiming the hospital wing knew nothing.

“I know how hard it is. Please, if I can, let me take some of the suffering away from you.”

He finally realized. Her scent, it was his mother’s.

Dumbledore confirmed his suspicions.

He tried to awkwardly bring it up until she told him she already knew. They didn’t have much time together before he resigned.

She did N.E.W.Ts in Divination and Herbology in sixth year and finished her education.

Grimmauld Place

She is dating Charlie when she moves in

She sleeps with Sirius and things kick off

She breaks it off just before Charlie gets home and goes to stay at Remus’ for a weekend.

Remus visits Sirius and notes he is as lifeless and depressed as she is. Neither has changed their clothes in weeks.

She continues to see Charlie when he gets back and moves back into Grimmauld Place, all the time sparks still flying between her and Sirius.

Being with Sirius has flattened the excitement in Charlie’s relationship. They sleep together again after she has a dip after a date. It’s so exciting.

She breaks up with Charlie and they feel the same. She stays for tea at the Burrow.

[paradoxiii]

So yesterday I spent a bunch of time recreating D&D characters in BG3 (after having downloaded a bunch of cc mods)

FYI I wasn't paying attention & didn't actually change Evie's stats/proficiencies/etc. to mimic her actual character sheet before taking the screenshot, but everyone else's info is as close to "canon" as I could get them.

1) Brenworne Flashwing - High Elf, Fighter (Eldritch Knight), Noble. I used her for a campaign in college that only had a couple sessions. One of my ironic characters (a high elf from a noble family but she slings around a big axe & hates nobility). I'd like to reuse her one day.

2) Carla - Hill Dwarf, Bard (College of Lore), Entertainer. Used in a completed campaign with friends from high school! She originally didn't have a beard but partway through the campaign I was like "she only shaves once it starts getting annoying to deal with" so she ended up with a bit of a beard.

3) Ebony Way - Tiefling, Fighter. Used in a two-shot modern campaign held over Roll20! Here she doesn't really look very close to "canon" at all but I originally designed her on Hero Forge. Another ironic character (tiefling fighter but she's sweet & kind & wears pastel clothes).

4) Evie - Changeling (usually disguised as human), Sorcerer (Death Touched), Haunted One. Also used in a two-shot campaign with college friends! And also another ironic character (Death Touched & Haunted but wears a pretty white dress and make her hair pink).

5) Isil - Half-Elf (half human, half high elf), Sorcerer (Draconic Bloodline - Black)/Rogue (Thief), Charlatan. Not yet used & one of the rare characters that actually has a fair bit of backstory already. Also her scales usually only look like purple makeup & become black scales when she's using magic. No particular campaign preference, she's just kind of a fugitive & a mercenary.

6) Kallisto - Tiefling, Druid (Circle of Stars)/Rogue (Swashbuckler), Sailor (Pirate). The newest edition to my roster & not yet used! She also has a fair bit of backstory; ideally I'd like to use her in a campaign that starts with all the player characters having amnesia since that's where my backstory for her ends, but I can always adjust.

7) Qelira - Water Genasi, Ranger, Charlatan. Used in one campaign in college that only had like one or two sessions, then reused for another campaign that was technically also a redo of another more modern campaign. Qelira is my ADHD gremlin child & I'd like to use her again someday

8) Singe - Tiefling, Warlock. Not yet used. Her patron is a celestial being that actually made a pact with Singe's mother while she was pregnant with her. She died in childbirth & the patron raised Singe themself. I'm not sure how exactly I would fit her into a campaign, as I'm not sure why she would leave her patron. Something to discuss with the DM should I end up in a campaign that I'd like to use her for.

9) Vhinn Do'mtor - Air Genasi (child of a drow and a djinn), Rogue (Thief)/Sorcerer (Shadow Magic), Urban Bounty Hunter. Used in a campaign in college that fizzled out in "season 2". Part of me wants to reuse her one day, but I also don't think I could; she's kinda attached to that particular world in my mind. I did, however, make an alternate version of her where her mother never left the Underdark & thus Vhinn was born full drow (and named Vhana for the sake of differentiation). Her mother, Chalnitra, never liked drow society or Lolth & raised her child in the hopes that she might one day leave. Vhana, despite becoming a Cleric of Lolth (she is still a shadow magic Sorcerer as well, she gets that from her mother regardless of who her father was), does leave the Underdark. I imagine there would be some tension between her & other part members, & she wouldn't blame them for not trusting her. Regardless, who knows how long she can keep calling on Lolth's power before the goddess rejects her for turning her back on everything the drow stand for...

[iviarellereads]

Harrow the Ninth, Chapter 51

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Eighth House skull) In which Mercy executes the plan.

When Gideon was young, she hoped her mother was still watching over her, that she could make contact with her skeleton, then learned that her skeleton wasn't even in the work rotation yet. She told Harrow not to pick on her, because what if her mum or dad was Important out there somewhere. Harrow said there's no evidence, and regardless, nobody was coming to rescue Gideon anyway. Then Gideon started spending time near her mother's memorial niche and telling her about her life, what she learned from Aiglamene that day, or how many sit-ups she could do.

It was worse when I was a kid. I remember the time you caught me telling her, I love you, and I can't even remember what you said, but I remember that I had you on your back--I put you straight on the fucking ground. I was always so much bigger and so much stronger. I got on top of you and choked you till your eyes bugged out. I told you that my mother had probably loved me more than yours loved you. You clawed my face so bad that my blood ran down your hands; my face was under your fucking fingernails. When I let you go you couldn't even stand, you just crawled away and threw up. Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven?(1) Was that the day you decided you wanted to die?

The old aunts used to say, suffer and learn. Gideon asks Harrow, in her absence, how much more they can take before they become omniscient.(2)

Mercy, in the present, points out that John's child has Alecto's eyes. The other Lyctors flinch at the name. Mercy says those are A.L.'s eyes, in John's genetic code. August points out that the skill he perfected, that John asked him to perfect, was following power back to its source, and John's power never added up for him.

John says he told the truth about his Annabel, and they killed her for it. August says she could never lie, and she was around long enough for them to have learned the truth even if he hadn't told them. He calls her a monster, says she was a monster the moment she was resurrected, and then John went and made her worse.(3) Mercy says they knew the beasts were coming for Alecto(4) but they never did learn how John killed her.

John says Annabel Lee was never the dying kind, and it's less that he killed her and more that he switched her off.(5)

Mercy says yes, the whole affair, and setting her aside a tomb and putting Anastasia to guard it, all that made sense. John himself is what doesn't make sense. August says he knows that Dominicus isn't the source of John's power, that the system draws from him but he draws nothing in exchange.(6) Essentially, they know Alecto is what fuels him. She was his cavalier.

Gideon isn't fully paying attention, but that last bit rings a bell. She knows the eye colour change is what happens when two souls merge, but there's no way for a cavalier to end up with their necro's eyes, unless the cav fails to die.

Mercy says John has lied to them. There is a perfect lyctorhood, one which preserves the cavalier, and he let them think there wasn't. None of them had to die. She names all the dead cavs of the first Lyctors, says John watched his friends kill their cavs in cold blood when he knew there was another way.(7) She could have forgiven him any other lie, the way the planet died, the extinction of humanity, but not this.(8) August asks if Anastasia almost had it right. John confirms it, but Anastasia panicked partway through, and then she and Samael were both in danger. He ended the process by killing Samael to save Anastasia.(9)

At this, John asks what he must do for absolution. August says he should stop the outward expansion, stop looking for whatever he's been seeking since the beginning.(10) John says if the man Augustine was before the Resurrection heard him say that, he'd kill August. August thanks him for confirming it, and is otherwise silent.

Mercy says she'll forgive John, if he'll do one thing: if he can look her in the eye and say he loved Cristabel and wanted no harm to come to her. He does so. She says to tell her he's sorry he lied. He says he has regretted it for ten thousand years.

So Mercy says she forgives him, and then slips her hands into his body, and then the Emperor comes apart, becoming first an explosion, and then mist, then powder, then nothing.

Leaving me an orphan again, though your brain didn't let me linger on that one.

=====

(1) Gideon's blood on Harrow's hands, when Harrow was ten and Gideon eleven. Does that ring a bell? The first book told us that was the day Harrow opened the Tomb. She wasn't just a powerhouse. Alone, she could never. But with Gideon's blood, John's daughter's blood, she could undo the blood ward and gain entry. (2) Just twist the knife a little further, Muir. I'll be fine. (3) A monster in a human suit… what was Alecto? (4) Why would the RBs be coming for her in particular? They come for all the Lyctors, don't they? Why would their coming for God's companion be any different? How would they be able to tell? (5) This is not remarked upon, but implies she can be switched back ON… what was Harrow up to in the Locked Tomb that day? (6) I know I keep saying the same thing in this one, but how could they know all this? August's ability to trace power back to its sources? How would that work, from these galactic distances? (7) Admittedly, not an insignificant crime of betrayal. I mean, maybe insignificant in comparison to killing ten billion, if the Edenites have the right of it which he doesn't deny… but this is also pretty cold. (8) It feels deeply inappropriate, but also perfectly appropriate: I can't help but think how this mirrors a line from Community which also became a quite popular meme, which was when Gillian Jacobs as Britta said "I can excuse racism but I draw the line at animal cruelty." and Yvette Nicole Brown as Shirley said "You can excuse racism?" Mercy here is Britta, and I am Shirley. (9) I wonder if this left Anastasia in a similar state to Harrow post-lobotomy. If she was incompletely transformed, with only limited access to any enhanced abilities. And I wonder if this is the whole truth, or another lie. Did he do it to save her, or did he do it to cover up that there was a kinder way? (10) This raises a most interesting question: what IS John looking for? What has his expansion been for? Is it just his extermination campaign against the BoE, whoever and whatever they are? Is he seeking something more?

[everythingelseisextra]

Alright, well... I think this is my longest book report so far. I apologize for not being able to get to this fic immediately. Today is my first day off from work I've had in a while (horses mean you have to work weekends, too). So, finally, I've gotten around to reading this. Here are my thoughts, and my apologies for talking so much. It's a bad habit of mine.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, skirting the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. Already, it’s interesting to me that she goes unnoticed. I assume based on this that she’s often underestimated, and made to feel smaller than she really is. She’s powerful and volatile, that much was clear by Changretta Calls 2, but there’s more to her and her reputation than that. 

I’m going through and translating all the Italian. It makes for a more engaging and interesting read, to be sure. I LOVE reading things that are puzzles, written in other languages or in verse form or in chopped and mixed sentences (I’m partway through House Of Leaves, if you’ve ever heard of that.) It’s a joy to see this in a fanfic. 

“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” Not sure how I feel about this. First of all, fair enough about the savagery, Tommy and Co certainly have a way about them that’s far bloodier than probably necessary, and the word ‘Gypsy’ wasn’t a slur at the time, but still… you’d think based on what I know about her that she would know that there’s no such thing as a true savage, at least not in the stereotypical sense. But, she has a fire to her, and I can respect that. 

He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed.  Christ, that’s… awful. I love that the POV changed briefly so that we as readers get to experience the brutality of Luca towards Aurora without actually having to see it. And we get the view of an outsider on their relationship, so that it’s clear that the people around them are fully aware of the abuse and complexity of their partnership. 

“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” That’s… that’s sad. She’s still his little girl, and he wants her to be safe. It gives us a glimpse into the softness that’s there within her, that we don’t get to see because of the precariousness of her situation. There’s no chance for her to be gentle or human, she has to be tough and ruthless at all times. But, as I guessed earlier, that’s not all there is. There’s so much more to her than that. 

“Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?” Ew.

“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions. DO WE GET AN ALFIE APPEARANCE IN THIS FIC? HAVE YOU BLESSED US WITH ALFIE SOLOMONS AND HIS BEAUTIFUL OUT-OF-POCKET PERSONALITY? ~in truth, I feel like this is a ruse of some kind, and that there will be no Alfie, but we shall see~

“Vaffanculo!” Agreed, love. Agreed. 

“I insist,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Come in,” she said with a wave of her hand. What is this, a crossover episode?

He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it. Yeah, good luck with that. Alfie is smart, and Luca has a bad habit of underestimating his opponents. He’s a bit of a megalomaniac in canon, seems to think he’s tougher than everyone else simply by default. 

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?” Well, shit. Now I need to know about Rose, too. Especially considering my deep (but platonic) love for Alfie, I’d love to read some more of her. First off, she’s intelligent in the same way Ada is; able to play to another’s empathy and strengths. Secondly, she has a story, and I LOVE when OCs come from complicated or even straight up evil pasts. Must be the sadist in me, I guess. 

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently. FUCK YEAH. I’m so excited for these two to cross paths. Talk about a power couple. 

“I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him," she confided, her whole body beginning to shake. There it is. There’s that other side of her I knew was in there. It’s beautifully written. It’s different as soon as she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells trying to placate a man while also holding her own power in place. I love that she’s able to have both self-respect and a deep-seated terror of her husband/situation.

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars-Part 1

Luca Changretta x OC (Aurora Sabini Changretta) x Tommy Shelby

Summary: Luca and Aurora Changretta come to the UK to avenge the murder of Luca's brother and father. However, as their volatile marriage unravels, events take an unexpected turn.

Author's Note: This has been on my mind since I created the moodboard ages ago. And it's been requested in several forms, the most recent being a lovely anon who wanted to see Tommy with an American mafia girl. OC Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms. Prequel has been posted as phone calls in two parts here and here. I would def recommend reading that before starting this fic! One more part coming soon!

Warnings: language, domestic violence, mention of blood, use of ethnic slur

Luca stood pointing at a map with his forefinger, tracing a path from the garden to the center of Arrow House, mumbling in a low voice to his men. Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, skirting the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. When she’d heard enough she spoke up from the back of the room, voice even and measured to show she was in control as much as her husband. “Non sono d’accordo, Luca.”

Luca’s head shot up as he searched between the faces to find his wife, though he thought he’d caught a hint of her perfume moments earlier, taunting him as he attempted to strategize. 

“It’s too risky to approach him at home again,” Aurora declared, stalking toward the desk with cigarette in hand. The smoke parted the men before her arrival at the table and she stamped out her cigarette a bit too forcefully before joining her husband where he stood. Although she hadn’t been invited to give her opinion, she’d been listening to every word, silently judging the ludicrous plan Luca was suggesting.

“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” she emphasized. “And he’ll be expecting us this time so he'll have even more protection,” Aurora said with a dismissive shake of her head. Luca’s face and neck reddened at the scolding tone of her voice, his blood boiling instantly at the brazen way she dared to usurp his power.

The air grew thick with their silence and as Aurora’s eyes scanned the room, she noticed not one of the men looked in her direction. They shifted uncomfortably as Luca reached for a matchstick, placing it between gritted teeth.

A low growl emitted before his words, causing everyone to stand at attention once more. “And what would you have me do, tesoro?” he said the pet name without any hint of warmth, but Aurora did not back away. In fact, she stepped closer to her husband, standing just below his shoulder as she placed a hand to his forearm gently. 

“I’m only asking that we consider a few more options,” she said diplomatically. Then she reasoned, “There must be another way to get to Tommy Shelby. His sister’s home in London or perhaps one of his factories. We’ll have to wait for him to come to us this time.”

Luca removed the match from his mouth as she spoke, lighting it and held it perilously close to her face as he taunted, “We smoke him out, principessa? Is that what you want?” he asked moving even closer, the flame in danger of catching her loose curls on fire.

Aurora didn’t blink as she watched the flame dance before her eyes. She could feel the heat close to her skin and her pulse quickened. “Basta cosi!,” she warned with raised eyebrow.

As lightning flashed outside the office window the spell was broken, Luca blew out the match with a dark chuckle. Turning to his men he concluded with a wave of his hand, “You heard my wife.” Then rolling up the map before him with haste he added, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow when everyone’s rested.” Everyone filed out, but Matteo and Enzo remained to ensure nothing else was needed for the evening. Aurora remained at the window as Luca instructed, “Seven o’ clock sharp, you understand?” 

“Yes, boss,” Matteo and Enzo replied, trudging toward their rooms. It was only their second night in England and they had not yet acclimated to the time difference. They felt the exhaustion seeping into their bones, the relentless demands weighing on them heavily. 

Before they could move more than a few steps down the corridor, they heard the shouting begin. As the sound of glass shattering broke the crescendo of voices, Matteo ran a hand down his face, a hint of irritation as he sighed heavily. “Do you have the number for the hospital?” he asked his associate.

Enzo nodded slowly. “And the morgue,” he added solemnly, eyes lingering on the doorknob. He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed. 

Luca tired easily tonight and Aurora limped from the suite thirty minutes later, hair disheveled to hide the bruise forming across her cheekbone. She fell once, picking herself up from the hard wooden floor with a sniffle and Matteo and Enzo turned from her as though they hadn’t seen her in ruin, a familiar routine of make believe.

“Let’s get some fucking sleep,” Matteo said when she disappeared into a separate room.

Enzo had just closed the door to his room and kicked off his shoes when the phone began to ring.

“Enzo, what’s going on? Luca hasn’t phoned,” Mr. Sabini grumbled.

“Luca’s been…working on strategy,” Enzo fumbled, thinking of the fight he’d just witnessed. He didn’t dare mention it to Aurora’s father though. Out of everyone who knew of their tumultuous marriage, Antonio Sabini was somehow unaware of his daughter’s plight. 

As if on cue, Antonio asked, “How’s Aurora?” 

Enzo gulped as he thought of a reply. “You know, she’s got her ideas,” he said truthfully.

“That’s my little girl!,” Antonio answered proudly. "She's got a sharp mind and she's good under pressure!" he boasted. "Mark my words, Enzo, this vendetta will end as quickly as it started now that Luca has my Aurora by his side. She won't lose any of our men either because she's much more delicate than he is with these affairs you see. Luca's always been too temperamental," he mused.

"Yeah," Enzo agreed quietly, hoping Mr. Sabini was right.

“Keep me informed. I want to know everything,” Antonio said sternly. “And keep Aurora out of danger if it comes to that.”

“Yes, sir,” Enzo reluctantly agreed, unsure how he was going to keep the promise. 

“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” he added softly, the fondness of a memory seeping into his voice and making it much quieter than before.

“Of course,” Enzo said, replacing the heavy receiver in the cradle and falling into bed, only to be awoken an hour later by the sounds of lovemaking in the room next door.

—————————————-

At seven the next morning, Aurora entered Luca’s office, smiling to herself as she held a large bouquet in her arms. All the men in the room turned to drink in the sight of her glamour, a trait that lived on in her from her exceptionally beautiful mother. Enzo and Matteo exchanged knowing glances as they traced the lines of her face, noting how talented she’d become at hiding the swelling and bruises. 

Although it sickened them to watch, she bent low to capture Luca’s mouth in a tender kiss, pulling away to breath a near silent “mi dispiace” against his lips. For reasons known only to her and Luca, they always fell back into each other’s arms. It was as predictable as the rising sun.

“I know you are, baby,” he replied, turning her out of his lap. 

“Grazie, amore,” she said sweetly holding up the flowers and stroking his cheek adoringly.

Luca knitted his brow, a hint of confusion noticeable, before he glanced up at his wife with a smug grin. “Of course, sweetheart. If you’ll excuse us, there’s business this morning and I think you had your say last night.”

Aurora nodded obediently and went to put the flowers in water as though in a trance. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Luca’s expression changed to a deep grimace. “Which one of you assholes got flowers for my wife?” He leaned forward onto his elbows, awaiting an answer.

Soon Enzo spoke up with a slight tremble in his voice. “It was me, but it wasn’t because of last night, Luca.”

Luca narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Her father asked me to get ‘em,” Enzo clarified with a slight cough, suddenly remembering his lines in the play they were subconsciously rehearsing at any given moment.

“Figlio di puttana!” Luca said, smacking the desk with his palm. “He spoiled her and now look how she acts!”  He shook his head with an indignant scoff, turning to look out the window. “Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?”

———————————————

“We aren’t in Darby’s territory any more. Where are we going, Luca?,” Aurora asked as the car bumped along the narrow roads. Luca turned to look out the window as though he didn’t hear, second guessing his decision to bring his wife along to the negotiations with the mad baker of Camden Town. However, Aurora would not be ignored. She had played the dutiful wife for weeks so as not to insult his manhood further, but every attempt at moving closer to Tommy Shelby had failed, resulting in multiple casualties. To make matters worse, every man lost was a member of her own family, brought from New York to aid the Changrettas in their vendetta. The idea of losing more men sickened her and she began to consider the possibility that she would have to challenge her husband once more.

Then Luca spoke up, but he only offered a sliver of information. “We’re on our way to Camden Town, alright?” he said before settling back into his seat with a sigh.

Aurora was raised at her father’s elbow watching the deals he made and how he researched his enemies. However, there were things she’d learned on her own as a result of being the only woman in a room full of men. How you had to demure and make them think an idea had been their own. She’d learned the art of manipulation and weaponized it early on as a means of survival. Today called for such an approach.

“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions.

Luca turned to face his wife, a surprised look on his face. “And how do you know about Alfie Solomons?” 

“He’s connected to the east Boston Jews. But, Darby knows him, of course. Says he’s unpredictable and violent,” Aurora added wearily.

She watched the muscles in Luca’s jaw tighten beneath the shadow of his fedora, knowing he didn’t like Aurora involving herself. Rubbing two fingers against his chin thoughtfully, he dismissed her concern. “I’ve spoken to your father and he approves. That’s all you need to know,” Luca said firmly.

“I wish you would tell me more about today,” she cajoled.

“No, amore. Not this time,” Luca said, clasping his large fingers over her gloved hand and giving her a squeeze that bordered on painful reprimand.

As the car jerked to a stop in front of a dilapidated building in Camden Town, she turned to her husband and took once last desperate chance as they exited the vehicle. “Luca, let me speak to Mr. Solomons. A woman’s touch to the negotiations might be just the thing to keep him from erupting,” she said innocently.

This infuriated Luca and he pulled her back, making her stumble on the rough cobblestones. “Like hell you will. This is my deal!” he spat.

“That concerns my family name and my blood!” Aurora retaliated, batting at his chest with her fists, unable to control herself further.

Luca’s eyes blazed with fury, striking her with full force and causing her to fall to the ground. Landing on rough stone, she sliced her arm as she hit, immaculate clothing ruined in the filthy street.

“Get the fuck up,” Luca commanded through clenched teeth.

Aurora winced involuntarily as she pushed her body forward, feeling the pain in her arm throb as soon as he placed weight onto her hand and blood trickle from her nose. “Vaffanculo!” she yelled, placing her fingertips to her chin and thrusting them toward him. 

Luca leaned down and dragged her to her feet, fingers digging into her flesh as he swore, "You make any more trouble for me and I swear to God you'll die here, Aurora. No one will know the difference if I tell them the Shelbys did it," he hissed in her ear as a small woman with dark hair appeared before them. 

“Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking the couple up and down, hands on her hips with more authority than someone her size ought to have. 

Luca released his wife immediately, straightening her clothes as he painted on a charming smile. “She fell on the cobblestones,” he explained smoothly. “I’m here to see Alfie Solomons. Is he in?” he inquired as he stepped forward, seeming to forget his wife in distress.

“Depends on whose asking,” the woman replied, glancing at Aurora with concern. 

Luca removed his hat as he introduced himself. “I’m Luca Changretta,” he said, extending a hand.

Thoroughly unimpressed by his charisma, the tiny woman tilted her head at him. “And who is she?” 

Luca coughed to cover his embarrassment. “This is my wife, Aurora. She’ll be staying outside,” he said with a pointed look at his wife, who stood, cradling her arm.

“If you want to see my husband, I insist this woman come in as well. She requires medical attention,” Rose said sternly. 

“If you insist,” Luca said, pursing his lips. 

“I insist,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Come in,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Darling,” Luca said with a sneer, extending his arm toward Aurora.

Aurora pushed past him and followed Rose inside. Luca followed two steps behind, removing a match from his pocket and chewing it ferociously. He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it.

As Luca was shown to Alfie’s office, Rose took Aurora to a separate part of the distillery. Her interest was peaked now that she’d witnessed something between husband and wife that felt unsavory. The Solomons’ liked to make it their business to know everything about their associates and this felt like something worth noting.

———————

Rose expected someone quite different from the woman she was meeting today. She’d heard Aurora Changretta was a tigress, someone who never gave an inch to her enemies. However, the woman who stood before her bloodied and broken was not in a position to argue. She might listen to the plea on Rose’s lips so she began in earnest.

As Rose handed over a flannel dipped in cool water, she admitted what she wanted. “I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Changretta. My Alfie has cancer. He’s riddled with it. The doctors say it’s probably from the gas during the war,” she explained with furrowed brow as though she didn’t understand or believe the words that came from her lips. However, Aurora knew them to be true. They were the admission of someone who loved deeply and had not yet come to terms with an imminent loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Aurora responded. “But I don’t see how I can help,” she admitted.

Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, rising to her full height. “You can get that man out there to go home. Leave us in peace for the days we have left,” she asserted.

Aurora bit her lip to keep a bitter laugh from escaping. Instead she just shook her head. Taking a deep breath she turned to Rose and spoke slowly to make the other woman realize her predicament. “You think I tell him the ways of the world? No, he doesn’t answer to me,” she admitted, dabbing at her wounds. “He has very little use for me these days,” Aurora admitted in a soft whisper.

"I thought your family ran New York?" Rose asked slightly confused.

"And now it's my husband so you see we're bound," Aurora replied with a look of resolve.

Rose took in the sight before her, bruises covered by layers of make up, bones badly healed over time. The limp when she walked inside and the arm she cradled gingerly now. This was a woman who knew suffering and yet there was tenacity in her hazel eyes that couldn't be denied. It was this strength Rose appealed to now.

“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?”

Aurora paused for a moment, a trickle of bloody water running down her elbow as she washed. This went against everything Aurora had ever been taught. You never spoke against your family, no matter what happened. Her parents ingrained that in her at an early age. However, her parents’ marriage had been one based on love and respect. No matter how many times they reconciled, she and Luca did not carry the same affection.

As she sat in the damp distillery, listening to the distant sound of machinery, she thought of her future with Luca and his intention to crush her beneath him became abundantly clear. He didn’t care for her as he once did. When the money and the resources were gone, he would dispose of her.

Finally Aurora mumbled one word into the darkness of the small room, keeping her voice low in case Luca was nearby. “How?”

Rose inhaled a sharp breath, chin rising suddenly with renewed hope to meet Aurora’s wide eyes, full of questions and doubt. She knew how hard it would be to ask this of kind of trust from a stranger, but if she could convince her to take the first step, the rest would fall into place.

“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently.

Aurora shook her head violently. “No, please. He’ll kill me.”

“He won’t. He’s not Luca,” Rose promised, rushing the rest of her speech for fear Aurora might bolt in fear. “This vendetta was started by the Changrettas and your husband is using your family to fund his war. Now he’s asking my husband to help. It won’t stop unless we say so. We can stop him, Aurora. Will you join me?” Rose asked, reaching for Aurora’s bloodied hand.

Aurora’s lip trembled thinking of crossing Luca, but she had had enough. If there was one thing her father taught her it was to fight for her own interests and she knew she still had fight within her. 

“Yes, I’ll help you,” Aurora agreed on a shaky breath, reaching for Rose.

“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Rose said, intertwining her fingers with Aurora’s stained fingertips. The blood that tainted her would soon be washed clean.

————————————

It had taken another week and several clandestine phone calls before Aurora could steal away to meet Rose. She’d convinced Luca that she needed medicine for her cuts and he allowed her to leave the hotel though she knew she didn’t have long. Rose knew a man who could help them meet in neutral territory, but it would be brief as Luca sent someone to watch over Aurora whenever she left. With that in mind, Aurora stole away one afternoon wondering if this was all a mistake.

The bell above the door of the chemist rang out and Aurora took a deep breath, scanning the small shop for Rose. The tiny woman stood in the corner, observing a box as though she were another patron and when she spied Aurora she beckoned to her. Aurora felt her heart thundering in her chest as she followed Rose through a narrow doorway, descending a dark staircase. However, it was far too late to reconsider and she marched ahead with as much courage as she could muster.

Aurora soon found herself face to face with Tommy Shelby who paced the length of a small, dimly lit room. She knew him instantly from photographs and descriptions of his deep blue eyes like two pools that could drown you if you stared too long. The moment she entered, she was mesmerized by him.

“You killed my wife,” Tommy said, a stillness coming over his features when he caught sight of his enemy. Aurora sucked in a breath, recognizing the inherent danger facing her. Violent men all had the same deceiving comportment, a snake coiled and ready to strike. 

“Tommy, please....” Rose interjected in a pleading tone, willing the meeting to continue. Rose glanced at Aurora and noticed a visible change in her demeanor, a hardening of her exterior as she refused to show any kind of weakness.

“Luca killed your wife. I only tried to kill you,” Aurora said defiantly, head held high.

A moment of silence passed as Tommy considered Aurora. Then she spoke again, "You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I'm trying to end this. It was never my fight," she said softly, feeling the weight of every life lost in service to her and the family.

“If this wasn’t your fight, why the fuck are you supplying your husband enough money and soldiers to overthrow the British empire, love?” Tommy countered.

“Loyalty. I hear that you’re like me when it comes to your family, Mr. Shelby. You would do anything to protect them. I didn’t agree with my husband, but I promised to protect him….”

“Do you honestly think he’d do the same for you?,” Tommy asked, blue eyes icing over to match the chill in his voice. He knew he was being cruel, but he had to test her in this moment to see if she would crumble.

“I have no illusions about our marriage,” Aurora confided on a low breath. She forced herself to make eye contact as she said, “That's why I'm here. Rose told me you might be willing to strike a bargain.”

Tommy scoffed, turning away from Aurora and she worried what she’d been told about his mercy was false. 

“Fucking hell, Tommy. She’s here and she’s willing to talk. Isn’t that enough?” Rose asked.

Tommy turned with a look of warning, “Alright, give him up.”

“What?” Aurora asked.

“Give up your husband and we’ll call it even,” Tommy demanded.

Aurora swallowed harshly, considering the choices at her disposal. Stay and see more bloodshed or end it with one final betrayal. It took only a fraction of a second to see the choice she had to make. 

“An ambush,” Aurora agreed quietly, fixing her gaze on Tommy. “But we have to make Luca think you aren’t expecting him. That he can take the shot.”

A smug look came over Tommy's handsome face. "You are as ruthless as they say, aren't you?" he commented. Then just as suddenly the amusement in his features disappeared and he turned stone faced once more. “How do I know I can trust you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora began to laugh bitterly.

“That’s fucking funny to you?” Tommy asked.

Aurora shook her head as a tear fell from her cheek, the enormity of her decision causing her to fall into a momentary fit of insanity. “He married me and he saw cashmere, cologne, red racing cars…All I wanted was love. It wasn't supposed to be like this,” she sniffed as she looked away from him, trying to catch her breath and regain composure. She pushed the pain away and felt her anger rise up in its place, “I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him," she confided, her whole body beginning to shake. 

Rose approached her and covered her with her shawl. “It’s alright, Aurora. You’re going to be alright,” she promised, looking to Tommy.

“Artillery Square, two days time,” he said with a satisfactory nod. 

------------------------------

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[recurring-polynya]

For the ask meme (feel free to answer any/some/none):

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like? — Yamamoto

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about? — Kira

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies? —Hanatarou

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep? —Byakuya (and does this change over time?)

I hope your weekend is shaping up to be nice!

🌙 - What’s their sleep schedule like? — Yamamoto

Here’s his entire daily schedule, because, as you will see, sleep is strongly integrated throughout.

5am - rise, fully rested. Consume a light breakfast of nattou and kombucha. Hit the gym early, when all the young bucks in their short shorts are there.

6:30 am - Drink a glass of vinegar and eat an entire raw sweet potato.

7 am - Squad 1 morning standup

7:15 - Sit down at desk. Fall asleep.

9 am - Sasakibe brings in their morning grapefruit and talks about British things for an hour.

10 am - Write half a strongly worded letter to whichever captain is on his shitlist today and/or the Seireitei Bulletin. Fall asleep partway through. 

11 am - Lunchtime. 12oz of cod, two raw eggs, and another sweet potato.

noon - Set things on fire

1 pm - Official nap

2 pm - Captains’ meeting, if applicable. Otherwise, wander around and grumble.

3 pm - Dinner. 8 oz of steak (he’s the Head Captain, he can afford it), large pile of veggies, rice.

4 pm - Drills with the youngsters (no one in Squad 1 is younger than 400 years old)

5 pm - Bath. Likelihood of drifting off in the bath: high

6 pm - Drinks sake, contemplates the universe.

7 pm - Before bed second dinner. Another 12 oz of cod, some roughage, more kombucha, 4 pickled plums.

8 pm - A responsible bedtime!!

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about? — Kira

You mean aside from existing?

Izuru is embarrassed about so many, many things, but this is the dumbest, which is that until very recently, he didn’t think that chameleons actually changed color, he thought it was a folklore-based metaphor, like the way people associate salamanders with fire. The reason he thought this was very simple, which is that Gin mentioned this, in numerous offhand ways, for the purposes of messing with him. I mean, it wasn’t personal, ‘chameleons can’t really change color’ was just one of a number of similar bits Gin did to anyone he thought would fall for it, it just happened that Izuru a) spent a lot of time with Gin and b) isn’t tremendously good at telling when people are lying to him, especially about things dropped in casual conversation. Chameleons aren’t native to Japan and they don’t have them in Soul Society, and who has time to keep track of all the weird animals from other parts of the Living World, some of which are made up. I mean, narwhals are real, but unicorns are made up???

Anyway, at some point after the Winter War, the topic happened to come up in the context of a painting Momo was doing (Shinji had asked her to do something colorful to hang in the office) and they got into a big standoff about it. Izuru refused to take Shinji’s word for it, because the man is at least as full of shit as Gin, so they decided to take it to the man who knows everything about the World of the Living, except that they didn’t want to explain why they were asking, so one night at the bar, Momo just casually asked Renji if he knew anything about chameleons.

Boy, does he. Apparently, at some point during the Advance Team mission, Chad had shown Renji a multipart documentary series called “Remarkable Reptiles,” and he spent the next hour regaling them with Chameleon Facts, including their weird feet, their incredible eyesight, the fact that they glow under UV light, and, of course, their ability to change color (which is not as good as a cuttlefishes, according to a different animal documentary Renji had seen). Momo grew more and more smug as this recitation went on, Izuru attempted to dissolve his own organs through the power of shame. Shuuhei was there also, but was so enraptured by the magic of chameleons, he did not notice that Izuru himself had turned bright red (not for camouflage purposes)

Anyway, Momo is a kind and compassionate friend, and did not rub this in, but it doesn’t matter, the damage was done. Izuru sometimes lies in bed and wonders how many people he casually mentioned the chameleon thing to. He wonders if they noticed. He wonders if there is any possibility that Gin himself was also misinformed about the nature of chameleons.

Shinji loved the chameleon painting (it looks vaguely like him) and hung it in a prominent spot in the office. He also framed the large, extremely random nature column that coincidentally appeared in the Bulletin shortly afterward entitled “Chameleons! Did You Know?” and hung it up next to the painting. Izuru hates going to the Squad 5 offices. 

🖌️ - Do they have any hobbies? —Hanatarou

I think Hanatarou would collect stickers! He’s very chill about it, he just buys ones he likes and he occasionally sticks them in notebooks, just making little collages of ones he things look nice together. He prefers ones that are cute or funny or pretty, but he also loves ones that come from different places or that commemorated a particular event or festival. When she gets an opportunity, Kiyone will sometimes bring them back from the World of the Living for him-- he loves the shininess and quality of the printing.

While he does have some hard-to-get ones that he keeps special, he is very generous with his stickers. The Coordinated Relief Station doesn’t see a lot of children, but Hanatarou is the one who maintains the sticker stock, just in case, plus Yachiru will often drop by for the sole purpose of demanding one.

💤 - What do they absolutely need to have to fall asleep? —Byakuya (and does this change over time?)

His wife. 😭😭😭💔💔💔

Like many neurodivergent people, Byakuya had a lot of trouble falling asleep as a kid. Byakuya is a Kuchiki though, he bends the world to his whim. He would carefully consider why couldn’t fall asleep. Was he too hot? Was there a noise bothering him? Was he hungry? Thirsty? He eventually figured out the optimal Byakuys Sleeping Conditions, which didn’t solve the problem, but it helped. From there, he tried out numerous sleep inducing techniques-- counting imaginary animals, visualizing peaceful surroundings, reciting various things he had memorized. He never found a precise recipe for getting to sleep, but he developed heuristics, and was generally able to get himself to sleep one way or another.

And then he got married.

He worried, somewhat, in the run-up to this, that sleeping with another person was going to require acclimation. A person. Next to you. Breathing. Making body heat. What if Hisana didn’t like the sheets he preferred? What if she wanted the windows closed when he wanted them open? She was the most wonderful person in the world, though, it would be worth going through all of it all over again.

As it turned out, lying in a dark room next to a person he loved was the most peaceful Byakuya had ever felt in his life and he fell asleep immediately, no alternate nostril breathing necessary. For roughly three years, Byakuya slept easily and deeply and awoke well-rested every morning.

Eventually, Hisana’s illness worsened, and Byakuya would often lay away, worrying, listening to her labored breathing, wanting to be awake in case she needed anything, thinking about how sleep chipped away at the limited number of hours he had left with her.

He slept very poorly in the year after her death, which is when he got into the habit of wandering his garden in the middle of the night. The following year, Rukia came. She also liked to wander the gardens in the dark hours, and Byakuya did not regard haunting the grounds as a group activity, so he returned to his old practices and managed to get himself back to sleep most nights. He is grateful to Rukia for this, actually. Sleep is important, and it is very irresponsible for a Clan Head and Gotei Captain to neglect his own rest.

Rukia’s own need for nighttime perambulations decreases eventually as well. Since night air can be calming, Byakuya slowly allowed himself to indulge in it again, occasionally, if he truly felt it would be effective. Even more eventually, he realized that while haunting is best done by your lonesome, a bit of companionship in insomnia isn’t so bad after all.

That was sad, so here’s a chaser:

Because Byakuya has invested so much effort in it, he can pretty much fall asleep in any conceivable conditions. He can and does fall asleep with his eyes open during Captains’ meetings. He never gets insomnia on field missions, because sleeping must be done in turns and if you do not sleep on your turn, it is a betrayal of your comrades and a risk to the operation, in short: you gotta. Renji is also an incredible Field Mission sleeper, and the two of them will just fall asleep and wake up at any time of day or night with no preamble, basically on command. Byakuya and Renji do a lot of awe-inspiring things, but it is the general opinion of Squad Six that this is the most impressive.

(original ask meme)

[friend-of-giants]

Skyrim Asks

Tagged by @sheirukitriesfandom

I do love little questionnaires like this. Obviously I'm going with Wren, since she's the only Dragonborn I've played as that I've bothered to put any thought into.

Tagging @downontheupside @babyblueetbaemonster and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it! I don't really like tagging people 😂

My responses under the cut since this is a little long.

1. Favourite Tavern

There’s something about the Vilemyr Inn that holds a special place in her heart.  The innkeeper is always friendly, and the menu there has some of the best salmon dishes in Skyrim.  The scenery in Ivarstead can’t be beat, nestled at the base of the Throat of the World, overlooking the steamy Eastmarch valleys, surrounded by waterfalls and the vibrant golden trees of the Rift. It's just a perfect little inn!

2. Favourite Drink

Mead, mead, mead.  Honningbrew, Black-Briar, unlabeled bottles she finds lying around that may or may not have already had someone else’s mouths on it, all fair game.  She’s rather partial to Black-Briar Reserve, as well as spiced wine and, when she can get it, sujamma. 

3. Travel Companion

Her horse, Dagon, first and foremost, as she would rather not walk all over Skyrim.  In prior years it was Lydia who accompanied Wren along her journey, but she has since moved on and now travels with Teldryn and eventually Inigo. 

4. Wealthy or not?

Wren came from decades of banditry and struggled her way into the civilized world with barely a handful of coin.  After becoming Dragonborn, the gold started coming in, and due to her upbringing she held on tightly to every bit of it that she earned.  She is rather wealthy, but has her funds hidden away and only buys what she needs.  

5. Worships the Aedra or the Daedra?

She doesn’t actively worship any of them, nor the Gods.  On rare occasions she will pray, but directs her prayers to all of them and hopes one will be willing to listen.  

6. Biggest Fear

Losing those she cares about, and knowing that she may be unable to save them.  The possible effects of what her dragon soul may do to her in the long run.  She tries not to think about that.  

Also Dwarven centurions (technology shouldn’t have that kind of power) and frost mirriam (she’s violently allergic)

7. Pet Peeves

People asking too many questions, or disregarding her abilities due to her size.  

Bonus Peeve: Rolff Stone-Fist

8. Do they like being dragonborn?

At first, yes.  She loved it, the power and the status and being able to instill fear into men and dragons alike.  Something happened partway through her journey of fulfilling her destiny against Alduin which drove her to depression, and changed how she saw herself and how she fit into the world.  Eventually she was talked into moving on and doing what she was meant to do.  Now she is more or less over being the Dragonborn, and if it were possible, she would give up her gift as she believes it is what caused her fall from grace. 

9. Favourite faction

Never joined any, but when she lived in Whiterun she found herself watching the warriors of Jorrvaskr practicing in the yard.  She never had the time to join, as she was focusing all of her time and energy into fighting the dragons and finding a way to stop Alduin. 

10. An object of sentimental value

She has her journals that she keeps tucked away around her home, as well as another object I can’t specify since it plays a role in the story I just started writing 🤷‍♀️

11. Hobbies

When she isn’t out wandering around Skyrim, Wren likes to cozy up in her bed with one of her multitudes of books she’s stolen throughout the years.  Living on the shores of Lake Honrich makes for good fishing, which she thoroughly enjoys, as well as cooking her catches.  

And, of course, drinking. 

12. Favourite city

Riften!  The autumnal forests that surround the city are what drew her there in the first place, as well as the Black-Briar meadery and the view of the lake and the mountains beyond.  With salmon and honey being plentiful resources in the city, two of Wren’s favorite things, she can never see herself living anywhere else. 

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

As for recommendations of my own, I can’t think of anything that’s *extremely* Locked Tomb-esque, but here are a few comics I’ve read that have some things in common:

The Greenhouse - Failgirl lesbians try to navigate a demonic possession and their own feelings and hangups. There’s also an abusive ex.

Sleepless Domain - There was an apocalypse, and after the apocalypse, Magical Girls. We are *very* slowly learning more about the forces threatening the city and the origin of the magical girl powers. Much darker than you’d expect from the art style, but still fundamentally optimistic. One of my favorite webcomics in general.

Facing the Sun - A scientist, her sapient robot assistant/love interest, and her complicated relationship with her roboticist mother, against the backdrop of apocalyptic climate change and more mundane personal tragedy. I’m only partway through but I’ve enjoyed it so far.

Omniscient Reader - For years, Kim Dokja has been the devoted sole reader of a web novel about aliens who invade Earth and force its people to fight for their amusement. The last chapter drops, Dokja gets a mysterious message, and moments later the events of the web novel start happening in real life. *Huge* content warning for graphic violence. The comic is adapted from a web novel which (from the bits I’ve seen) fleshes out Dokja’s inner life much further. I dropped this one a while ago, but I’m recommending it anyway because I see the appeal for Locked Tomb fans and I know it has a pretty active Tumblr fandom.

You might also enjoy browsing my propaganda tag for comics featured in the completed WLW couples’ tournament and upcoming trans character tournament. I hope you find something you enjoy!

Just finished Nevermore after you suggesting it (loved it). Do you have some other webcomic I should check out?

Thanks!

I'm glad you enjoyed it. More people to talk about it with is always welcome. I can't take all the credit, it was the lovely @ambiguouswren who put me onto Nevermore. I've heard good things about the Nevermore creator's other comic Shilo. https://www.webtoons.com/en/thriller/shiloh/list?title_no=1649

I'm reading Mage and the Demon Queen myself atm. That's a fun romp. I'll ask around, n ferret out some other suggestions, or go on a reading spree this weekend. If anyone else has any recommendations to make, they're welcome to reblog, and add. :D

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Here’s the final part of the “Raph is a system” theory compilation post! It’s the last of what I can scrape up from canon; while I still have ideas on how it might loop back into character interactions and plot and so on, they’re much more speculative in nature. (Part 1 is here) (Part 2 is here) (You’re reading Part 3)

---

"Red” is the alter with the least screen time, so it took a while for me to connect the dots on when and why he formed.

His shadowed face, the dramatic background music when he speaks, and his seriousness are reminiscent of the “brooding on rooftops in the rain while gloomily staring off into the distance” thing that Raphs throughout the franchise will do sometimes. That’s easy to poke fun at on a superficial level because most of us look back on our edgy phases with self-deprecation, but it’s a lot less funny in the context of the life he lives. Being a normal human teenager in normal human society is a fucking nightmare; being a mutant teenager who has no idea what to expect in terms of development or lifespan, only five people he can safely interact with ever, and a very limited future hiding from everyone else for as long as he lives has got to be just awful.

RR’s few lines in “Pizza Puffs” tell us a lot. “It’s the only way they’ll learn” and “this is for their own good” suggest that he formed when the turtles started exploring more of the sewers and going aboveground, and Being The Leader became more of a responsibility. A thousand new ways for them to get in trouble meant a thousand new ways Raph would have to bail them out, and that got old fast- especially since they didn’t have April’s knowledge to help them in the beginning. I doubt they met her the very first time they left the sewers. The wiki says April knew the boys for five years as of “Mystic Mayhem”, so they would have been nearly eight at the time, perhaps the mental equivalent of a ten- or eleven-year-old human.

A while back I sifted through all the eps with Raph in them in the vague hopes that “Pizza Puffs” wasn’t the only episode featuring RR... and lo and behold, I found something! The shadowed face and dramatic background music are also present in “Minotaur Maze”!

“I can’t do it. I got no mystic mojo. I’m useless.”

“Hey, that’s not true, brother. You just gotta believe in yourself, and know this: If I die in this maze, I will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

(I know that’s only two data points, but y’all canonically cannot scoff at me.) RR shows up when HR is no longer able to tolerate the bullshit at hand. “I’m not going to baby you Leo, get your shit together before your ego kills us all” was a reasonable response to nearly being shish-kebab’d.

“Pizza Puffs”, on the other hand... LDM pulled through in the end, but that RR got HR to stay behind added an unnecessary level of risk. Getting his brothers to learn a lesson should have waited until after the giant mutant cannibal had been dealt with and they were no longer poisoned.

This hands-off “figure it out on your own” approach probably came from Splinter. I swear to Pizza Supreme In The Sky I’m not trying to shit-talk him, but his lack of involvement with his sons was a major flaw. Before all that character development he was terrible at things like “emotional support” and “life lessons”, leaving Raph without the blueprints to deal with a lot of problems. HR would respond by rushing in and figuring things out as he went, but sometimes RR would have to say “No, we’re maxed out and can’t deal with this, we’ve gotta step back”. As we’ve seen in other iterations, when Raph is maxed out and doesn’t step back...

...he goes too far. Plenty of folks have commented on how rarely the Rise turtles smack each other around compared to other versions; it’s telling that RR spoke up just a moment after HR smacked Mikey in “Pizza Puffs”.

Raph is much bigger and stronger than his brothers this time around, meaning such an outburst would have a much higher risk of Genuine Grievous Injury. And while his size and strength also mean a measure of gentleness has been baked into him since day one, there would still be times HR would feel himself boiling over and RR would head off somewhere quiet for fear of the above situation; which was potentially alluded to in “Hot Soup: The Game”.

“You went out on your own when you were his age.”

The context of “Man vs. Sewer” suggests Raph isn’t going to go off on his own without very good reason- such as cooling down before he does something he regrets. That this detail shows up in Casey’s debut episode suggests it is how they will properly meet and bond, since befriending Casey and doing vigilante shit with him is what usually gives Raph a way to blow off steam while having someone nearby to keep him in check. But that probably won’t happen until partway through season 3, since I doubt we can cram the rest of Casey’s redemption arc into the movie alongside the invasion and time travel trauma shenanigans and leader drama. So in the meantime RR will continue to brood on rooftops in bad weather and listen to Ephemerality songs and monologue to himself because he knows nobody’s going to hear him over the incessant background noise that makes up the cities above and below.

I was a bit stumped about how that meeting would take place- the events of the finale (and possibly also the movie) would no doubt have both the human and yokai populations on high alert, making it dangerous for RR to slip away for some peace and quiet. But the events of the finale also gave us some insight on Raph’s powers; he has a way to leave without actually leaving!

Hardlight Clone Jutsu, baby!

So whenever HR finds himself in a particularly sour mood, a wisp of power winds its way up through the open-air portion of the lair and forms into a clone aboveground. HR doesn’t have to leave for a while to cool down before coming back and dealing with the situation calmly, because RR is already on a rooftop somewhere dissipating those bad feelings by listening to the rain and/or yeeting trash cans.

But mutants can’t freely walk the streets of New York, and the Hidden City Police probably still have it out for Raph. And someone, hero or villain, will eventually realize that Raph has a gloomy stray clone running around and ask questions that can’t be answered without cracking open the can of worms that is This Whole Situation. RR needs to get creative. That we’ve seen clones have both full color and the basic red/white palette suggests their color could be altered in other ways; and that the holo-form grew extra arms in the lair fight vs. the Shredder suggests their shape could also be changed further.

So what will he choose to look like, if not his body?

Obviously he’ll use a red and black color palette because it slaps, leaning more towards black since I compared him to Batman back in Part 1. A low-detail design makes it hard to identify him, giving onlookers the impression that they just couldn't see him well in the dark. Mentally filing down his spikes and decreasing the curve of his shell are easy enough, but it takes him a while to figure out five fingers instead of three, and there’s not much he can do about his voice other than lowering the pitch so he just opts to not talk much within earshot of others. A cape further disguises his silhouette and again, it slaps. The impression of a mask means he doesn’t need a face and it lets peoples’ assumptions work for him. Humans are more likely to think he’s human than a Very Human-Shaped Mutant, and yokai come in so many shapes as is that he could be anything from a witch to a dehydrated googlyschmootz.

(You know how it is with franchises. Old patterns repeating in new ways.)

New York City never sleeps, and I doubt the Hidden City does either. He’ll run into Casey eventually, but in the interim he stumbles across and intervenes in some attempted purse-snatchings and kidnappings and the like. Most of the would-be victims use his arrival as their chance to escape, but one of them is too frozen with fear to move until their attackers are chased off into the dark. He escorts them home, and it’s only once they’re at their doorstep that they work up the courage to ask him who he is.

It’s... a difficult question, in more ways than one. “Raph” is out of the question. “Red” isn’t quite right, and neither is “Angel”- they’re a tad too identifying still, and the R.A.P.H. thing was HR’s idea anyway. So he shrugs, and melts away into the shadows.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Nobody.”

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Scattered AU Conclusion

To tie up the Scattered AU, I have written a short conclusion. I can't even express how much I've enjoyed working with all of you on this, and once again I have to say I've been absolutely blown away by the number of contributions there were. I am so happy that this idea was loved, and I hope all of you continue to take joy from it even after the official end of the event. Once again, thank you.

I tried to cover as many Hermits as I could here, but my energy ran out partway through. Feel free to add on an ending for anyone I've missed. Also, it's worth mentioning that this conclusion is not the only possible ending and does not overwrite any other endings submitted for the AU. This universe is a multi-branched thing, and the timeline of the story is flexible depending on what makes you happy. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this small effort to keep up with all your boundless creativity. 💙

After a long discussion, the Hermits decide to stay in the season 8 world instead of starting a new one. They will take this broken wreck of a place and turn it into something beautiful, just like they have every season. They will heal alongside the world they created, fixing what glitches remain as they support each other and make their best effort at recovery.

Impulse settles in the desert, with Tango and Zedaph close by him. The hot air stings his transformed body, but he is more than done with water for now. Maybe one day he will return to it - but not this season. For now, he keeps the air in his base humid, learns to build with sandstone, and invites his friends over often. Sometimes they talk about the things they all went through, but mostly, they just talk about all the normal things friends talk about. How their day went, what might be causing Tango's latest farm to malfunction, how Zed is going to pull off his next wild plan... they're just glad to have each other back. They're just happy to not have to be alone and afraid anymore.

Cleo is rezombified with the help of Joe, Stress, and False, as soon as they can manage it. Nobody really understands why she wants that, but no-one really needs to - it's her choice. It's what she needs to feel whole again. Seeming vital and normal to the outside world is not nearly as important to her as being herself is, and the others are glad to see her back to her former undead glory. Returned to her familiar form, she laughs and jokes in a way much more alive than she ever seemed when her heart was actually beating.

Jevin keeps every single axolotl he found on his and X's journey through the caves. His mind returned slowly back to normal after Xisuma fixed the plugins, and focusing on the adorable creatures helped him to control the lingering aggressive tendencies as he recovered. Now, when another Hermit seems to be having a hard time, he'll let them borrow an axolotl to take care of until they feel better. It helps to ground them and give them a sense of control, and reminds them all how lucky they are to be alive in this strange, updated world.

Scar struggled. For a long time after the events of the early season, he struggled. He claimed he could control this new level of Vex power, but more and more, he felt as though he was being subjected to it rather than using it. He could feel himself slipping more and more every day, and it scared him, so much that he couldn't even say anything...but the others noticed. Cub's own connection to the Vex told him that this wasn't a sustainable way for Scar to live. Together with Mumbo, he formed a plan. Using Mumbo's new Evoker power, they summoned the Vex that was controlling Scar and broke its hold. Scar is more vulnerable to deals with the Vex now, and it will be a long time before he can visit the End again without feeling weak, but he's more than happy to feel like himself again. Eventually, TFC talks him through his fear of the End - talking himself through his own fear in the process. He offers to go with Scar the first time he decides to return. Both of them find the obstacle more manageable with a friend.

Ren, Grian, and Doc find themselves drawn to each other even after things go back to "normal", not wanting to be alone again. In fact, many of the groups that formed in the more than a year since the world started remain intact. Whether for comfort or protection, or just sharing resources, the Hermits continue to rely on each other. That trio specifically has something new in common - with Grian's new foxlike features, they are all mob hybrids now. They share experiences and support each other, and they can often be found gathering around a fire to tell stories. None of them particularly fancies the cold anymore.

After all that they went through, nobody feels very strongly about banning Evil Xisuma again. His crimes are so far in the past by now, and it feels wrong to condemn him to a future of darkness and isolation when he's already gone through so much of that this season. He doesn't live on the server permanently, preferring to wander off and cause mischief elsewhere, but when he does visit Hermitcraft he stays with Hypno. They bond over a desire to stay on the outskirts and a persistent fear of flowers. They live in a base in the ocean, not a blossom in sight.

XB and Iskall live in the jungle, close enough to see each other but far enough so they don't feel pressured to talk. Both of them feel slightly guilty for getting separated in the desert, but neither of them want to be the first to apologize. Their conversation happens in stops and starts, not in one big rush - but they get there. Eventually, they get there.

Etho drifts. For what seems like an age after the glitches are fixed, he drifts. He talks to the Beetlejhost, sends messages through him sometimes, even manages to manifest in a way others can see occasionally - but that takes a lot of energy. Mostly, he just drifts. He hovers especially around Xisuma, who works for hours on fixing his code. The world can't be considered fixed until everyone is here. Nothing can be fully right until all of his Hermits are safe. It's the hardest admin challenge he's taken on yet, but it's worth it. When he gets to finally hug Etho again, it's worth it. When he brings him to the shopping district and presents him to the other Hermits with tired eyes and a grateful heart, here and real and alive again, it's worth it. It is more than worth it.

Nothing will ever be the same again. That much is obvious. Though the world was fixed and the season went on, the physical changes and emotional wounds are too lasting to be erased, no matter how much time goes by and how much the Hermits support each other. No matter what, the things they went through are unforgettable. Nothing will ever be the same again - but it doesn't need to be.

What is broken will heal back differently, what was changed will be adapted to. New things will be created, new habits will be formed, and for each new fear and trauma there will be a new kindness to match. It won't erase what happened, won't make the pain of the past any less real - but it will help. Healing is not a return to one's original state. Healing is progress. And, together, the Hermits are making progress.

-----------------------------------------------

And, there it is! The inbox will stay closed for another day after this (because I do occasionally need a break), and then it will be open again for regular Hermitcraft headcanons. If you have made any art or writing for the Scattered AU that hasn't been posted yet, please feel free to send that in too! Chances are if you just tagged this blog without sending me a link, it probably got lost in the flood of notifications.

[mxgilray]

Loki Season 1 Thoughts

Overall, I really liked this series. It has some issues without question, but I sincerely don't think it's the dumpster fire so many viewers on this site treat it as. Did it go how I expected? Not at all? Did I enjoy the heck out of it and look forward to it every Wednesday? Hell yeah!

Loki's Good Guy Personality

A big complaint many have had with it is how much Loki's demeanor has changed and how his emotional growth feels rushed or his personality is ooc. Truth is, he saw his entire future, saw what his angry, power hungry, I-work-alone persona would get him in the end, and it snapped him back to reality. He has always been shown to be quite emotional and craving attention and lacking in self assurance, it's just in the past movies he's masked it with violence and fake narcissism, and he's always been a secondary character so his perspective is rarely shown. But if you really pay attention it's obvious he isn't truly villainous; we all know that, it's largely why he has such a huge fan base.

Right after meeting Mobius, Loki got an infodump of his future, saw his parents both die, found out that free will means jack shit, and learned he's absolutely powerless in this realm. On top of that, this is 2012 Loki, fresh off of being under Thanos' control, suddenly being shown that the guy who controlled him is going to end up killing him. Frankly,, I think it all broke Loki. He was too shook up by it all and by the sheer helplessness he found himself in at the TVA that he let all his barriers down momentarily. Just long enough for him to open up to Mobius about his motivation and his lack of self confidence. And you know what I bet? Loki felt relieved after talking to Mobius. A weight was lifted, because he bore his heart to someone and wasn't rejected or laughed at or treated like a psycho. And after letting his walls down fully, Loki didn't feel the need to put all of them back up. He stayed guarded around other people, but he didn't need to pretend around Mobius. Mobius has seen under the mask, so Loki doesn't feel pressure to perform as an all knowing, all powerful God around Mobius. That freedom is life changing.

People who gravitate towards broken, pseudo-villain characters do so because we relate to their internal conflict, their mental illness, their need to fake it around everyone close to them. Their turmoil and depression and self destructive behavior are familiar and we see ourselves reflected in their actions. Now, when a person really truly let's their guard down, drops all their layers of facade, and embraces themself, they tend to change demeanor and even personality pretty drastically. It's jarring in real life, so of course when it happens to a fictional character who you usually relate to it is going to be jarring, maybe even more so because it feels like a change you yourself would never go through. I know this sounds bad and people might get at me for it, but...

I believe the issue here is that a large part of Loki's fan base doesn't want him to get better. They don't want him to move past his mental illness, to learn how to cope with anger and disappointment in healthier ways, to be happy. They like his damaged persona, they like the internal conflict. Maybe it's because they're still at that low place themself and feel like a relatable character is getting taken away from them, maybe it's because they don't understand how much being at peace with yourself can alter a person and to them it feels like he's been changed too much. To those of us mostly on the up and up from battling depression and mental illness, it's comforting to see Loki getting a chance to be genuinely happy and accepting of himself.

Sylki and Lokius

First things first, I'm not anti anything. Ship what you want, idc. Personally, I do not see the Sylki dynamic as romantic, but I get why people read it that way. I thought the series did a good job of showing unrequited love, namely Loki falling for Sylvie and Sylvie feeling zero romance towards him. This was aware of his attraction and in the end used it as a distraction so she could get the upper hand. The show played up the potential romance because we are viewing things from Loki's perspective and he's become smitten as a kitten. I do think in the long run they'll have a more sibling-like dynamic, one Loki realizes that you can feel extreme love and care for a person without it being romantic. I enjoyed how the show explored their relationship, though I do wish they hadn't had every character under the sun mention their moment on Lamentis-1 like it was some big deal to bond with someone you're about to die with.

I'm bitter towards the development of Lokius. It had a strong start in the beginning, and in ep 5 had some potential reignited, but then they had Mobius not know who Loki is at the end. I'm still hoping they're playing the long game with this ship and that it'll come to fruition partway through season 2. The chemistry is there, and Mobius knows Loki very intimately and isn't put off by his past. Loki also feels much more at ease around Mobius than he does around Sylvie. It's the comfort of a deep loving bond with Mobius verses the nervousness of a new crush that he feels for Sylvie.

I don't think Loki is quite aware of his feelings for Mobius, simply because it's based in friendship and mutual respect and isn't a hot and heavy lust. Plus, as soon as he was away from Mobius he was thrown into a near death experience with Sylvie and developed a surface crush during their heart to heart. Since Loki's still figuring out what genuine feelings are beyond anger and sadness, he sees the simplistic crush he has on Sylvie as love and the intimate bond he's been forming with Mobius as friendship. He doesn't understand his own feelings yet, but I think he'll figure it out next season. I mean, he was probably already rethinking his feelings for her after she kissed and betrayed him, mentally kicking himself for expecting her to not pull a Loki betrayal like he would've in the past.

The Time Variance Authority

I really like the concept of the TVA, the structure of it, the methods they use, the deeply fucked way they recruit employees, the cult like motto, shady Miss Minutes who is definitely playing her own long game, and the blind acceptance TVA agents have of the Time Keepers' will. It's all very well done... until your dig into the core, aka He Who Remains. They built up the idea that the Time Keepers created the TVA to prevent a multiverse war and that they created agents to enforce their will. Then the creating agents turned out to be fake, the Time Keepers were fake, I expected the reason for the TVA's existence to be fake to. It felt too simple to have it genuinely exist just to keep the multiverse in check. Why the anonymity, unless it's to keep from having agents target and prune versions of himself which.. songs like a decent solution. HWR made it sound as though the multiverse war was just a bunch of versions of himself screwing shit up, so why isn't the TVA's focus on eradicating every other variant of this guy? Sounds a lot easier and nicer than fucking with the free will of every other living being. So either Marvel made a bad call when choosing what HWR's motive was for creating the TVA, or he was lying about it all to cover up something sinister.

Overall Storyline

I'm fairly happy with the plot as a whole. There were some pacing issues and I think a few missed chances for deeper conversations between various characters. While I enjoyed the Loki variants, I honestly would've been happier seeing Tom playing most the variants (except Kid Loki and Classic Loki since they are clearly different age ranges). If there is supposed to be one sacred timeline, it seems off to me that Lokis would be allowed to vary so extremely without it causing a nexus event(an alligator, whose nexus wasn't that he's an animal who obviously can't do any magic much less command Thanos' army, but that he ate someone's cat) and not just in appearance but in life path (ie boastful Loki collected all the infinity stones but it wasn't till he had 6 that he caused a nexus event even though him gaining control of the Soul, Power, and Time stones should've each caused nexus events since on the sacred timeline he never interacts with those 3 and taking any one of them would've fucked up a lot of other timeline parts)

I love the display of Lokis raw power, and 2012 Loki coming to the realization that he's way more powerful than he ever thought. And it wasn't just Classic Loki who spent thousands of years alone honing his skills, 2012 Loki reversed time on a goddamn falling building! I also liked the small magic, the fireworks, the tablecloth blanket, Loki yanking Sylvie away from HWR with just magic.

As someone who is both bisexual and genderfluid, I would've really loved more concrete representation. The comment about there never being another female Loki hit me in the gut; it undermined the Easter egg "Sex: Fluid" on Loki's TVA file. With how big a deal Sylvie being female was made out to be throughout the season, I expected her gender to play a key role in taking down the head of the TVA, like it was foretold that only a female Loki could end it all or some shit.

I don't mind the idea of Loki finding love in a straight passing relationship. I don't even mind the selfcest all that much. It just feels so obvious to me that Sylvie is written as not having any romantic inclination towards Loki, while Mobius is clearly written as falling in love with someone he shouldn't and trying to maintain an heir of professionalism to keep from wrecking his bond with Loki. I really really hope they come through on season 2 and give Lokius the canon relationship and proper representation they deserve.

Mmkay I thinks that's all the thoughts I've got right now. If you've been feeling cheated or clowned by how things went this season, maybe my perspective of things can help ease your pain.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Some Semblance of a Man

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31716874

Kaz

Kaz Brekker was always looking for a challenge, for the next rival to ruin, for the next near death experience. He’d learned quickly that sitting idle in The Barrel got you killed and he’d been running ever since. But with Pekka gone, Inej and her parents reunited, and the Council of Tides temporarily abated, Kaz was beginning to realize there was nothing else for him to do but wait.

Of course, there were the day to day activities, he still had The Crow Club to run, he still had slavers to gather information on. But after everything he and the Dregs had been through recently, those tasks seemed trivial. He didn’t want his crew to think that just because he’d come into a bit of money that he had gone soft, and he didn’t want rumor spreading throughout the Barrel that Kaz Brekker was getting bored. Without his crew around the Slat, Kaz had to find other ways to pass the time, and for the sake of maintaining appearances, Kaz would walk the streets at night, pretending to look at his watch, pretending to trail a random person, or spreading rumors. Sometimes he would walk to The Menagerie and think of what it would look like burned to the ground.

That’s where he’d been tonight, with a gentle mist of rain turning the cobblestone to mirrors, pools of colored lights spilling out across the street. There were few people out, the rain enough of a nuisance to make them think twice about spending their coin in gambling halls and pleasure houses. Despite the hour growing ever later, the Slat was teaming with life when Kaz returned, the air smelled like alcohol and sweat, the newer additions to the crew were trying to have a conversation, which had mostly devolved into shouting over the out of tune cacophony of voices singing drunkenly across the bar. Kaz bought a round for everyone, though he knew the chance of anyone here betraying him in favor of another gang was slim, keeping his crew happy with a bit of booze usually made his job a little easier. Besides, the longer the crowd was down here, the longer he had for some quiet of his own, in his room on the fourth floor, where the voices did not carry.

Kaz held his breath as he started his climb up the stairs, it was never easy, but Kaz valued the privacy and protection afforded by his room more than he worried about the pain. He bolted the door behind him, leaning his head against its frame and biting his lip as he massaged the twitching muscle of his thigh. He stretched, rubbed a knot from his neck, and reached for his hat.

He paused, the pattering of raindrops puncturing the peace. “Won’t Jesper and Wylan be missing their Wraith?” Kaz asked his empty room, his back to the window, hiding his smirk. He moved slowly, hanging his hat on the doorknob and turning around just in time to watch Inej swing gracefully from the rafters of his ceiling and drop down to his bed.

“No, they’re going over the books tonight, so they’ll be busy for a few hours at least,”

“Wylan’s books take hours to go over?” Kaz asked, leaning against the wall to take the weight off his bad leg.

“No,” Inej replied “But the boys tend to get distracted by...paperwork and usually have to start over,”

It took Kaz longer than he’d ever admit to understand her meaning, but once he had he merely quirked a single, bemused eyebrow at her. Something hungry and desperate twisted its way through Kaz’s stomach when Inej smiled wryly back at him, her eyes flitting to his collar. “What business?”

“I’ve been reading up on cannons.” Inej began, her face a picture of concentration. “Specht and I are going to be taking a few people we’ve been eyeing for our crew out on the water sometime in the next few weeks to practice. We aren’t going far, just far enough to where the cannon fodder won’t send other ships into a panic. We want to see if they can work well as a team before we commit to hiring them.”

“A wise decision,” Kaz agreed, ignoring the way his heart seized within his chest. It made him happy she would have her freedom, but the thought of losing her to the sea always left an ache.

“I wanted to extend an invitation to you,” the confidence Kaz had grown so used to seeing in Inej’s shoulders melted away, she pulled out a knife, turning it over in her hand. “to join us on that trip. I thought you might want to be there to ensure your...investment is taking form the way you’d hoped it would,”

“It wasn’t an in-” Kaz swallowed the rest of the sentence. It wasn’t an investment. He thought, don’t you know this was all for you? “How long will you be gone?”

“Not long, a day, maybe two.”

“When you have the dates secured, let me know, I’ll see if I can make the time,” He knew already he would make the time.

Inej nodded, a glint of something in her eye “And you? What business?”

“I have a job for you,” Kaz took this as an excuse to get closer to Inej, moving toward his desk and stretching out his leg. “I recently came into the possession of some ledgers,”

“You can use the word ‘stole’ Kaz, I’m not the stadwatch ,”

“They have the names of all the ships that have docked in the harbor, the captain, and their cargo,” Kaz continued, “I was looking through it for leads on slavers when I noticed something,” Inej untangled her limbs, and pushed herself upward, walking over to Kaz’s desk. Kaz had forgotten how comfortable it felt to have her by his side. “There’s a ship that keeps appearing, but it never stays for long. It docks at last light, and it departs first thing in the morning. I’ve looked at the dates of it’s arrival,” Kaz handed Inej the first of the ledgers, she took it from him without a word, scanning the pages in search of the same patterns he had found.

“The Sankta ?” Inej hissed and Kaz could hear the disgust on her tongue.

“I thought that might catch your eye,” he opened another ledger, pointing to the name of the ship and the dates it had docked in Ketterdam. “It comes in every six months or so, and when it does the population in the Barrel always seems to increase. The clubs start advertising more heavily, the pleasure houses start getting more traffic,”

“You think they’re smuggling people into the city?”

“I don’t know for certain what they’re trading, the ledger has different cargo listed every time. And the Captain...I’ve never heard of them before.” Inej placed the ledger in her hand back down on the desk, leaning in closer. Her braid fell down across her shoulder, barely an inch from Kaz’ face. Focus . “If the pattern holds they should be docking here in-”

“Three days?” Inej finished for him, reaching for the second ledger. Her fingers brushed against his gloves, her forearm against his jacket. Kaz lost all sense of time and place, despite the warmth of the room and the floor beneath his feet. One second he was in the Slat and the next he was cold and drowning. Inej was saying something, something like “tell him”, maybe? But he wasn’t quite sure, there was cotton in his ears, his heart was in his throat. There was water rising around his ankles.

“Kaz?” He heard her voice, far off, like a siren calling him to shore. He did not trust himself to speak, as it was he struggled to find breath “Kaz!”

He slammed back into himself, pressing one hand flat against his desk, wrapping the other around the head of his cane so tightly his knuckles went white beneath his gloves. Solid wood and solid metal, no flesh or water in sight, this was always how it went. The place beside him where Inej had been was empty, she had retreated, pressed herself up against the wall, her hands behind her back.

“I’m sorry, I-,” Kaz would have done anything to wipe away her guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t mean to-”

“I wasn’t prepared,” he said, unable to look her in the eye, to admit to the weakness they both knew that he carried.

“I know,”

“I didn’t expect-”

“I know,” Inej interrupted. “Does the Sankta change the Berth it docks on?”

“No,” Kaz would never have the words to express the gratitude he felt at her diversion. He turned slightly in his seat, pretending to study the documents in front of him. Pretending like every cell in his body wasn’t honed in on Inej. On the way she was looking at him, distracting him once again with talk of plots and schemes, intangible actions that would let him fly high above the harbor he was drowning in. “It uses the same Berth every time.”

“Do we know who that dock belongs to?”

“It’s paid for by the Council, it’s designated for public use,”

“I’ll see what information I can gather,” Inej said and Kaz nodded, trying to force the image of Jordie out of his head. “Goodnight, Kaz,” Inej whispered after a moment, and though he did not hear her footsteps, he felt her absence immediately.

Where the water had been, regret replaced it. He balled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. “Wait!” he called out after her, turning around slowly to not seem overeager. Inej was frozen, partway out his window. He felt picked apart with the way her gaze fell upon him, her eyebrows knit together, her face desperate and searching. Whatever unease still lingered in the center of his stomach, whatever terror still wrapped around his ankles, it fell away at the sight of Inej, sitting here on his window sill, backlit by moonlight and held up by hope.

At some point the fear of what her touch would bring him was dampened by his need to hold her close. He was broken and crooked and the most unworthy man, but he needed Inej to know it wasn’t her fault. Wanted her to know that he was trying to push the pieces of himself back together, into someone, something she would not be ashamed to love.

When Kaz and Nina had broken into the morgue all those months ago, he had powered through his fear with thoughts of Inej; the warmth of her skin, the sound of her voice. But as every second in that room of corpses passed them by, Kaz had forced Inej from his mind, not wanting to taint his memories of her with the scent of death. Kaz had believed for so long that the foolish little boy he had been had died in the harbor, but as his eyes fell upon Inej now, he knew he had been wrong. He had carried Kaz Rietveld with him every day of his life, and had pulled that doe eyed little fool to the surface on the back of his brother’s bloated body with every touch since then.

He’d learned very quickly what it meant to be weak in The Barrel. The Barrel starved, and beat, and stole all the kindness and compassion and love out of those unlucky enough to build a life inside it. Weakness got you killed, so Kaz had buried his weaknesses so deep they had turned themselves into shadows. He had kept them there in the dark for so long they had grown claws and teeth, they had become so rabid, so feral that Kaz was finding it harder and harder to keep them locked away.

But maybe he didn’t have to anymore. Because now he had the Wraith, he had Inej, and Inej made him strong. Inej made him wish for things he had convinced himself he could never have. Perhaps if he tried it, if he tried it enough, to touch her, to put her hand in his, to let her rest her head against his shoulder, to...to kiss her, he could finally put the little boy in the harbor to rest. Yes, he would drown his fear beneath the tidal wave that was Inej, he would burn away the memories of corpses against his flesh with the warmth of her skin against his.

“I want to try again,” it pained him to admit to it, it thrilled him to have said it. Kaz failed to keep his heart beat steady when Inej planted her feet firmly back into his room, and closed the window.

“Try what again?” she asked, stalking forward until there was nothing more than breath between them. Kaz studied the head of his cane, his skin prickled with the thought of what she’d feel like in his hands.

“I-” He dared a glance at her, she was ethereal, she was calculating, she was Inej and the rest of Kaz’s wish was lost with his nerve.

“Kaz, tell me,” Inej leaned forward, Kaz leaned back. He clenched his jaw, locked himself away behind his mask. “Tell me what you want,” He could feel the way she looked at him, like she’d created her own gravity and he’d collapsed beneath it. But he couldn’t make himself form words, it had taken everything he’d had to say something the first time, to show her such weakness again would surely break him. When Inej spoke there was an edge to her voice that was sharper than her knives. “Say it, Kaz. For once in your life just...say what you’re thinking. There is no one else here but us. There’s no one else to see you, to hear you treat me like you actually care.”

Kaz hung his head in shame, it was a fair blow, but that didn’t stop him from shattering into a million pieces at the acknowledgement of all the times he’d failed her. “I want to take my armor off.” He forced himself to meet her eye. “I want to beat this, I will beat this. Will you help me?”

They’d done this little dance for months now, the day on the docks, when he’d shown Inej her ship, he’d managed to hold her hand for a whole five minutes without sinking below the waves. He’d tried a couple times since then, with various levels of success. Some days he’d managed to throw his arm around her, others just the thought of her face caused him to tug on his gloves.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz, you only had to ask,” Kaz committed that smile of hers to memory. “Are you ready?” Inej asked.

No. Kaz steadied himself and straightened his posture “Yes,”

They started slowly, Inej resting her palm on the back of his gloved hand, Kaz took a deep breath, he could do this, he was fine. Inej’s fingers curled around his hand, she pressed their palms together. Kaz pushed the water away. She laced their fingers together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“You okay?”

“Fine,”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yes,”

Kaz wasn’t sure what kind of sound he made when Inej began to tug the gloves from his hands. She froze, looking up at him, reading him the way only she could. She dropped her hand, Kaz wanted to reach for it, but he let it fall away. “I’m sorry, did you want to do it?”

“No, it’s- no one else ever has,” Kaz cleared his throat, biting back a smile at the way Inej’s cheeks flushed. Tentatively, Inej continued, it took a lifetime to complete her task, it took a second. The metal of his cane was cold against his fingertips, for the first time in a long time it no longer felt comforting. He reached out with his other hand, and gently Inej took it, her palm against the top of his bare hand. It felt like fire, but Kaz preferred the burn to the icy harbor he had always known. His breath caught in his throat, Inej continued until their hands were pressed palm to palm.

“Breathe,” Inej whispered, Kaz exhaled and peace rushed in to fill his lungs. She interlaced their fingers, the water started in. Think of her . Kaz clenched his jaw. Think of that day at the docks . Kaz faltered when Inej wrapped her other hand around his wrist, the one that held his cane. He thought that she might pull their hands away, and though he was not a man of faith, he thanked every Saint he knew that she kept her hold on him.

She repeated the pattern, gripping his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder with all his layers on. He kept his breathing purposeful, controlled, his eyes trained on the wall for fear he would look at Inej and see a corpse standing in her place. She slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest, he hoped she could not feel his heartbeat. He nearly lost his footing when her arm went to his waist. He was impossibly warm, sweat had started beading at his temples, he gripped his cane a little tighter.

Inej released his hand and a weight Kaz hadn’t realized was upon him disintegrated in his chest. But it returned in a flash when Inej began to pull off his coat. “Saints,” he whispered. “Why won’t it stop ?” he hadn’t meant to say it, he hadn’t meant for it to send Inej shuffling backward, too far away for him to grasp.

“It takes time, Kaz,” Inej replied, tossing his coat on the bed, taking a tentative step forward, then another when Kaz responded in kind. She brushed her fingers against his shirt sleeve at the wrist, it was an apology and a question. “You can’t kill this kind of monster in a day,” she traced a line up to his elbow. “It took me months,” Inej said, so simply that it knocked his world out of alignment and he had to take a step backward to right himself. Inej reacted on instinct, clutched his shoulders to make sure he did not fall.

“I’m not strong enough,” Kaz blurted out, hoping that if he spoke, he could force the feeling of rotting flesh out of his mind. “I’m not as strong as you,”

“That’s not true,” Inej ran her fingers across his chest and down to his waist. “My weakness just wasn’t visible, yours is,” she unbuttoned his vest, Kaz hadn’t even noticed and the implication of that made his stomach do a somersault. “When someone touches you, you are present, aware.” She continued her pattern, hands going back to his wrist, making sure he could anticipate where her next move was going to be. “Me? I disappeared,” Kaz caught her eye, and threw his thought away. He refused to pity her, he knew she wouldn’t want that. “I looked calm and collected, but no one knew what it was doing to me, to shake their hand or have their arms around me,”

She smiled at him, unrestrained and brilliant, and he looked down to realize he had his hand upon her waist, her arms wrapped around his in kind. This felt like a victory, it felt like a curse. Against the roughness of her jacket, his hand began to tremble. She stepped away, he didn’t want her to, but it was exactly what he needed.

“Your tie,” Inej stated, and Kaz could have worshipped her right then, for understanding that if she had brought her hand up to his neck, he might not survive the evening. He undid his tie, though the tightness in his throat did not relent. He unbuttoned his shirt, hoping that the action would steady his hand. He was feeling light-headed but he wasn’t drowning...yet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, ran a hand through his hair, forced his anxiety out with a breath. He had never gotten this far with her before.

Inej repeated the rhythm: wrist, elbow, shoulders. Her hand was Jordie’s hand, her flesh was Jordie’s flesh. His chest, his waist. The waters started rising, coming in with the strength of a flood. Inej could sense the change in him immediately, “Tell me about the tattoo,” Inej said, he did not want her hand on him anymore, he needed it to stay so he could keep trying. He knew why she was asking, she knew he needed a distraction, and he chuckled darkly because she did not know that this particular question serveed an opposite purpose.

“Not tonight,” But someday .

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,”

Her hand has been in his for seconds, minutes, days, long enough that Kaz let himself hope that one day he could be rid of this. This ghost of his brother, the phantom of his skin, slipping underneath his hand, his chest, his face. Carefully, never breaking eye contact, Inej brought his hand up to her lips, Kaz focused on his breathing, on the moonlight spilling across Inej’s plait. Kaz tasted salt on his tongue, no not salt, iron. His vision went blurry, and he lost the shape of Inej as a result. This was unbearable, but he was desperate for more, it was easier this way. Feeling her lips against his skin, instead of her skin beneath his lips. She pressed another kiss to the creases of his palm, to his wrist. This felt nothing like a corpse, but the traces of her lips burned like ice, like water.

“I never asked you,” Kaz began, relaxing the tension in his jaw “Are you okay with this?”

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing,” she whispered against his forearm, lips brushing the dark ink of his Dregs tattoo. He flexed the hand that held his cane, releasing some of the stiffness in his knuckles. She continued her familiar path across his body, through the smoke of Reaper’s Barge Kaz noticed she took care to avoid the R tattooed to his bicep when she kissed him there.

His whole body was alight, electrified, dying. He could smell death in his nose, he could feel the warmth of Inej’s body wash over him. He was tired, he was treading water, knowing any minute he could drown. He saw Jordie’s face, swollen, purple, eyes cloudy, No. He thought of Inej, of her laughter, her smile, of her voice whispering his name. Kaz Rietveld and Kaz Brekker were at war with one another, and right now, he wasn’t sure who would win. He should tell her to stop, but he didn’t want her to.

Inej took another step in, her hands balling into fists. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to be doing . She had just told him that, but he saw her now, saw how tightly she carried herself. He’d been so caught up in his own head, he hadn’t realized she’d been trying to shed her armor too. She leaned in, and Kaz was back in a hotel bathroom, she paused mere inches from his chest, sucked in one shaking breath, and ran her lips against his collar bone.

The current pulled him under; Kaz Rietveld had won again. Sudden, uncontrollable panic seized within his chest, snapping the leash to which he tied his weaknesses. They ran him over, all snarls and teeth and claws, turning him into something wild and furious. Before he could control himself, before he was even fully conscious of what was happening, he had flung his arms outward, pushing Inej away from him. “Stop,”

Inej, working to quiet her own demons had not been expecting this outburst from Kaz, she lost her footing, stumbling backward, and though she did not fall, Ghafa’s never fall , she did slam the back of her knee into the hard metal of Kaz’s bed frame. Inej cried out, more out of shock than out of pain. Desperation, horror, fury, regret pulled Kaz further under, the room was spinning, the moonlight hurt his eyes. Kaz caught himself on the edge of his desk, fumbling frantically for the waste basket he kept there, the cold metal of it in his hands bringing the briefest moment of comfort before he was vomiting up his dinner.

“Kaz?” Inej’s voice was sturdy, grounding, calm, but he could not turn to face her.

Inej

Kaz Brekker had gone by many names, and Inej had heard them all, whispered fearfully through the streets of Ketterdam by cowardly men. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. Inej had spent so many nights on this city’s rooftops, seen only by the stars, listening in on the conversations that twisted up to her like crow feathers in the wind. She knew what people thought of him, he held a place amongst the most dangerous and feared of men. To some he was a bogeyman, to all he was a threat. And though she had seen him do terrible, violent things it still sent a sharp bolt of surprise crackling through her body whenever she heard the word “monster” following his name.

That monster stood before her now, leaning against his desk. Trusting her enough to turn away, to leave himself defenseless in her presence. Not trusting her enough to show his face. He was sweating, and in the light that spilled from the lamp upon his desk, Inej could see his hands twitching with the slightest tremor. She knew he was slipping, knew he was trying desperately to pull his armor on. But she was not here for Dirtyhands, and she had no time tonight for bastards. She thought about those names, the truths they carried with them. Could they really be titles for the man she was watching now? A boy who could not look her in the eye? No, the person that stood, half naked and shaking in this tiny little room, was neither of those things. This, she realized, this was simply

“Kaz,” she tried again.

“Leave,” and if she had known him any less she would have thought that he was serious.

“No,”

“Inej,” She was never sure how he could do that, how he could make her feel coveted and worshipped just by saying her name “ please ?” and his voice became a quiet, broken thing.

“No.” She said again, gentle as the breeze “I will not leave you, not like this,”

“I don’t want to see you,” it wasn’t a lie,

“You did great, Kaz, you’re making progress, ” and so was she, though she wasn’t sure Kaz realized it.

“Inej, get out,” he hissed, as if it hurt him to say the words.

“Why?”

He stiffened, and she bit back a smirk he hadn’t been expecting that . “I-” he hung his head.

She knew he didn’t have a reason, not one that he would admit to anyway “Is it because you don’t want me to see you like this? Because you’re worried you can’t give me what I want?” She tried to dampen the delight that bubbled in her chest, when she watched blotches of red blush paint the back of Kaz’s neck and spill down across his shoulder blades. “Is it because you feel ashamed?”

Kaz screamed with a rage she had seen up close only twice, a wild, guttural thing. When he got like this, destruction usually followed in his wake. As if on cue, Kaz slammed his hands down on the table, sweeping everything that rested there- every half drawn blueprint, ledger, and plan -onto the floor. His lantern tumbled with it as did a small wind up dog toy Kaz always kept sitting at his desk. The force of their impact caused both to shatter, sending pieces of glass and metal skidding across the hard wood floors. The paperwork took longer to fall, floating gently in the air around him like snow.

Kaz finally turned to face her, fury exploding behind his eyes. He wanted a fight, but Inej would never give him that satisfaction. When the dust settled, the anger that had possessed him had begun to burn low, confusion taking control of his posture and his brow when he finally saw Inej.

She had crossed her arms and tried her best to look bored. Based on his reaction it may have been working. “You can’t scare me away, Kaz,” It was the wrong thing to say, but it’s what he needed to hear.

The fire that flickered behind his eyes turned to ice, “I am the Bastard of the Barrel,” Kaz spit, stalking toward her, making sure to punctuate his words with the tapping of his cane against the wood. “I brought down Pekka Rollins, I conned Jan Van Eck, I broke into the Ice Court and made it out alive. Men run when they see me coming, parents tell their children I’ll steal them away in the night if they do not behave.” Kaz only stopped when her back was to a wall. He wanted her to feel cornered, he wanted her to feel trapped. On any other night, that may have worked, but she knew this was an act, and she had maneuvered herself so she was near the window, and he hadn’t seemed to notice.  “I scare who I damn well please,”

Inej could not hold back anymore, she hadn’t meant to do it, but she started to laugh. “That’s good,” Kaz blinked in surprise, his posture shifting, his grip loosening on his cane. She took a step forward, he took a step back. “I can see how that would work on most people. But I know you Kaz. Sure, you took down Pekka and Jan Van Eck...with help,” she took another step forward, reveling in Kaz’s retreat. “But you’ve also fainted in a carriage, nearly drowned in Djel’s river, and got embarrassed when Jesper’s Dad caught you two in a fist fight.” Kaz ducked his head to hide the redness rushing to his cheeks. She took another step forward, he ceded his territory. “You got good at palming cards and picking pockets not because you planned for a life of crime, but because you like magic tricks . You’ve lost a hat in every corner of Ketterdam,” Kaz lost his footing, his knees buckled beneath him, sending him tumbling onto his bed. With nowhere left for him to go, Inej smirked, and leaned in just far enough so he could hear her whisper. “And, when you wake up in the morning, your hair sticks up to one side. Jesper and I pretend not to notice, but we both think it’s adorable,”

Inej spun gracefully on her heel, gliding back towards the window, because she was not cruel and did not want Kaz to suffer...she didn’t want Kaz to suffer much . Kaz glowered at her, but seemed to otherwise have calmed. “You know,” Inej said when the silence grew too heavy. “I’ve been afraid of a lot of people since I came to Ketterdam,”

“Even Jesper?” Kaz asked eventually, she could tell from the cadence of his voice he was exhausted.

“Especially Jesper” Inej trusted Jesper with her life, he had brought so much chaos and joy into her world. But he was kind and charming in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Inej had had too many clients come to her, all smiles and compassion. Jesper scared her because she knew what kind and charming men could do. Kaz flinched and looked away.

“But not me?”

“No,” Inej wanted to touch his cheek, to smooth the worry that lined his forehead “Never you,”

Slowly, deliberately, Kaz stood. Inej’s breath caught in her throat when her eyes met his. He looked paler than usual, and maybe a little green, but his hands were still, his stance was steadier. He had locked his thoughts away, no emotion showing on his face, but there was a shine in his eyes Inej had seen before, when Kaz was trying to let go of hope. He quirked a single eyebrow at her, a challenge.

“I’ve been scared for you,” she admitted. “I’ve been scared to disappoint you, I’ve been scared of what it would do to me to lose you.” Inej stepped forward, already knowing what would happen, knowing that Kaz, having slipped away once already, would take a step back. But instead he stood rooted in place, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his cane.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve never looked at me the way everyone else does.” She considered the weight of the words on her tongue. “One day at The Menagare would have been enough to show me what kind of place Ketterdam truly was, and I spent a year inside it’s walls. I’ve collapsed beneath a million broken promises, but never yours. I’ve heard a million gentle lies, but never from you. I have felt a million….unwanted hands,” Inej wanted to shrink away into the shadows, but she refused to show her weakness, she refused to look away. Like magnets they were pulling toward each other until they were sharing the same air, until they were standing as each other’s equals in the center of the room. Inej held out her hand, not a demand, not a question, but a wish. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest when Kaz, without a moment’s hesitation, took her hand. He clenched his jaw, and drew a soft line across her palm with his thumb, it was a certainty, it was a promise. “But never yours,”

Kaz cleared his throat “I haven’t been scared of anyone since Jordie died,”

“Not even Jesper?” Inej teased, because she didn’t know what else to say.

Kaz bit back a smile “Never Jesper,”

“Not even me?” It was another joke, because she’d wanted to see more of that smile.

His face fell into something powerful and serious “I’ve always been scared of you, Inej,” she knew how much it must have taken for him to have admitted it. “From the moment you snuck up on me with bells on,”

“Really?” she could not hold the joy she felt at bay, it spread throughout her body, warming her all the way down to her toes.

Kaz nodded.

“But I was nothing then,”

“You have always been something.” Kaz corrected. “Back then you were Silence,”

“And now?” her eyes kept falling to his lips.

“You…” Kaz continued, leaning down, sending Inej’s heart into a frenzy she was worried she could never tame “should be going home,”

Inej scoffed, Kaz’s walls slipped down just long enough to let a small chuckle pass his lips. She would tuck that away in her memory, a look into the boy he could have been, a minute of vulnerability all for her. “That’s not fair! I told you mine!” If it had been Jesper standing in front of her, Inej would have backhanded his shoulder. But this was Kaz and he had done a lot tonight, she didn’t want to push her luck. Especially when she was enjoying this feeling of his hand in hers, she wasn’t looking to ruin it. “Come on Kaz,” she whispered, “why are you scared of me?”

He chewed his lip, and she could see the gears turning in his head, the debate he was conducting. Should he tell her the truth? Or keep his feelings a mystery and send her away. She was getting tired of being sent away. “Because I trust you.” Kaz said. “Because, you make me want to tell you everything. We deal in secrets, Inej, because we know that information can be more valuable than money. You’ve learned my patterns, you know my mind, you could unravel everything I have built with a single word to the right person,”

It was true, but it hurt. She pulled her hand from his, and regretted it. “You think that I would?”

“No,” he said it so fast, so sure that it knocked the air out of her lungs, it tore her voice from her throat. “And that is why you scare me. Because I know that thought has never crossed your mind.” He tugged gently at the bottom of her braid, twisting it around in his fingers. This was a system they had worked out months ago, for when Kaz wanted to be physical but the feeling of her skin was too much. “You are kinder and stronger than I will ever be and I am scared that-” he dropped her braid, placed both his hands atop his cane, and broke eye contact. “I am scared that you will finally see yourself for everything you are and know I am not worthy of your time or loyalty.”

“Kaz,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Because she couldn’t say I love you . The tension in the room, the cord that pulled the two of them together, was severed by the tolling of a clock.

Kaz broke first, eyes skirting to the city stretched out below them. “Goodnight, Inej,” he whispered, his voice rougher than usual.

“Goodnight,” she managed, slipping out of his window and vanishing into the night. Kaz watched her go until he could not feel her presence any longer, then he turned, and started picking up his mess. When Kaz woke the next morning, his heart stuttered in his chest. Sitting in the middle of his desk was a brand new wind up dog toy and laying next to it, reflecting the early morning sun was a geranium made out of glass.

[collabwithmyself]

1-3: Turnabout Transfix (2/2)

The article in the paper under the list of missing persons had the wrong name before "Wright, age nine," and a lump formed in Miles's throat.

"That's not his name," he tried to say. It came out as a croak. "We told them his name was Phoenix. I know we did."

Ray, sitting beside him at the dining room table, looked disgusted but defeated. "They added it as a footnote," he pointed out. ""Responds to Phoenix"... Nick's not a dog."

Miles wanted to hunt down every copy of the paper and throw them all into the trash can. His best friend was missing, and people were calling him the wrong name because he wasn't there to stop them. It wasn't fair.

Miles looked to Ray as though he had an answer to right this horrible injustice. Ray looked as tired and frustrated as he felt, chewing on a thumbnail as he thought deeply.

"We can head down and talk to them," he offered, after a long pause.

That was what Father would have done. He would have marched right down to the office where they printed the paper and demanded a retraction. But nobody was going to take a freshman law student and his newly adopted nine year old seriously.

"It's worth a try," Miles responded, because a defense attorney should never give up hope.

⁂

Staying up late to scrutinize the series he already knew by heart for clues of some sort was a mistake, and Miles knew it. His eyes began to droop only partway through the season as Maya snored against his side, and he was vaguely aware he was becoming less and less alert every time he had to pull his head back up from his chest.

It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't be letting himself doze off in the presence of company.

His sleep was never restful. Every night, his subconscious was forcibly yanked back to the day everything changed.

Some nights, he found himself reliving what he was certain was a memory. The dialogue never changed, the action never shifted. A heated argument in the elevator, a foolish bid to stop it, a single gunshot, and that horrid, high-pitched wail of agony that he knew belonged to one of the people he'd lost that day.

Other times, he dreamed not of his father, but of Phoenix.

Those dreams changed, but they remained the same nonetheless. Whether running through the streets with Larry, or through the backyard of his home, or through the hallways of the courthouse, the same thing always happened - Phoenix disappeared. Maybe he ran too far ahead, or lagged too far behind, but Miles's friend was suddenly nowhere to be found, and he felt painfully, crushingly alone.

His subconscious had decided to grace him with the former that night, and when he woke up with "father" on his lips and sweat on his forehead, a rumpled-looking Maya was staring at him in undisguised concern.

"...are you o--"

Miles turned away from her and said nothing, effectively stopping the conversation before it began.

Maya was silent, and when Miles glanced back over, her gaze was fixed on the television, which was still playing through the old episodes of Steel Samurai. She lacked the enthusiasm they both shared for the show, however. She seemed deep in thought.

"...you don't wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.

He and Uncle Ray never talked after nightmares. One would get up to find the other in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea, and silently join them, knowing the other was thinking of the same thing but not having the courage to voice it aloud. Saying it gave it form, and Miles refused to shed any more tears over something he knew full well was his fault.

"No," Miles responded, sharp and blunt all at once.

"You wanna talk about something else, then?" Maya glanced sideways at him. "I used to talk with Sis after I had nightmares. It helped get my mind off things."

Miles hesitated. "Something else sounds nice," he said quietly.

"How about court today? Prosecutor von Karma was hopping mad, huh?" Maya let a grin stretch across her face as she leaned towards Miles. "She looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. Or maybe yours."

"That woman needs to see a therapist," he muttered.

"I think we all do, My."

"...you've got me there."

⁂

As the trial wore on throughout its second day, Sascha von Karma continued to act stranger and stranger. Before the judge could reprimand her for being far too harsh with the witness, Cody Hackins faltered and lost the confidence Miles had been working hard to build up about his witness account, a terrified look in his eyes. To his surprise, von Karma went ashen and actually stumbled back a little, like she hadn't meant to push a little boy nearly to tears.

Honestly, with her disposition, Miles wouldn't have thought she would care. But here she was, clutching her side, eyes blown wide with something like fear. Something in Miles's stomach turned over. Was he actually feeling sympathetic for this ferocious woman?

But it wasn't just him. Mia beside him (that had been a jolt to his nervous system -- he hadn't been able to see her clearly the last time Maya had summoned her) had her brow furrowed in concern as she stared at the prosecution. "I haven't seen her make a face like that since..."

Miles glanced at her. "Since... what?"

"...don't worry about it. Focus on the trial here and now, Miles." Mia gave him that mysterious smile that meant she was withholding important information from him. He knew it well. He huffed at her, and she huffed back.

Despite Mia's testimony, von Karma had that same look on her face as Vasquez took the stand the next day, wide eyes flicking between the witness and the defense bench. She was strangely silent, not offering a single protest as Miles proceeded with the cross-examination.

But he couldn't afford to wonder about it. Vasquez was clever and tight-lipped, and his attempts to wring her testimony dry and find something to pin her down were fruitless. She and the judge had both gotten irritated at this point, and when Miles hesitated, scrambling to find some point he hadn't pressed, the latter decided he'd had enough.

Miles cursed inwardly as the judge raised his gavel. Vasquez adjusted the pin of her shawl, self-assured in her victory. This was the end. He was prepared to accept defeat.

He couldn't have possibly prepared for what happened next, however.

"OBJECTION!"

Miles jerked his head up. Beside him, Maya gasped in surprise.

Across the room from him, left arm outstretched in a frantic point, was a frazzled, trembling Sascha von Karma.

She stared blankly at her own hand, as though it had moved of its own volition. Then she jumped - actually jumped - when the judge demanded to know the meaning for the interruption.

"Right! Uh. Um. The reason I objected," she babbled, "is because... uhh..."

It was the least composed Miles had ever seen her. He was bewildered. What did she think she was doing?

"...I don't have a reason," she admitted, shoulders slumping.

"Er..." The judge blinked owlishly at her. "Very well. Now--"

"OBJECTION!"

The poor judge looked as baffled as Miles felt. "Miss von Karma?"

"I... I request that the witness testify again!" she blurted out, digging her fingers into the desk. She looked disheveled, stray hairs having slipped out of her ponytail to poke out at a very odd angle. "I, um... I want to hear about... the, uh..."

Vasquez snarled with impatience. "Why are you badgering me? I'm your witness!"

"I'm inclined to agree!" the judge added. "I see little point in making Ms. Vasquez repeat herself..."

Miles looked at Maya. Maya looked at Miles. What?? Maya mouthed at him. Miles shrugged helplessly.

von Karma floundered. "Uh... yeah... great point... ummmmMMM! I want to-- I wish to hear about the body discovery! What happened after you found it?"

That hadn't occurred to Miles. But what could that possibly reveal? And why was von Karma risking sabotaging her own case by asking after it? She practically had the win in the bag, and after Miles had humiliated her so thoroughly after their last clash in court, she had no reason to let this continue.

What was going on?

⁂

The relief of a not guilty verdict and the butterflies of being in such close proximity to Mr. Powers yet again were a powerful combination that filled Miles's mind with fuzz and forced out any less important thoughts, like von Karma's odd behavior or Maya tugging on his coat.

"M-My! Hey! Miles! Kilometers! Little My!"

"H-Hrm?"

Maya pointed to somewhere behind him. "I, um... I think you're in trouble."

Miles turned, and flinched when he found himself nose to nose with a furious prosecutor.

"You," von Karma snarled, "should not be expecting a repeat performance of today! You're lucky I took pity on you! You got that?!"

Her voice raised to a yell as she spoke, and her burning eyes pinned Miles where he stood. He leaned away, but she just leaned forward.

"Don't you dare be expecting a shred of mercy from me from now on! You may be the son of that loathsome excuse of a defense attorney, and the favorite of that voluptuous wretch--"

Now, Miles was not going to sit there and take that. "You should never speak ill of the dead, Miss von Karma," he snapped, straightening his spine and making her flinch away. He met her glare with all the intensity he could muster...

...and then paused.

How curious.

"Wh... What? What is it?" von Karma's hastily plucked brows furrowed as an edge of nervousness worked its way into her voice, and Miles realized he'd spoken aloud.

"Your eyes," he continued hesitantly. They were heterochromatic - one brown, one blue. "They reminded me of someone. An old friend."

von Karma inexplicably blanched. She looked distant for a moment, and her left hand dug into her right side, just below her ribcage. "You... wh..."

Then she shook herself, and that boiling anger was back full force. "Why are you getting all nostalgic on me, you-- ugh! You listen closely, Ed... E-Edge..."

Again, she went pale, looking ill. Miles was starting to worry after her health at this point, despite the fact he was in the middle of being screamed at. "Er..."

"You... you listen closely, Worthless!" She thrusted a finger up towards him, nearly jamming it up his nose with how close she was. "These eyes... you'll see them and know nothing but despair once we meet again, you hear me?! I'm going to crush you, and I'm going to enjoy it!"

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stomped off, seething.

Maya coughed weakly. "Uh. Wow. What was that all about?"

Miles stared after Sascha von Karma, his gut clenching with inexplicable grief. "I have no earthly idea."

⁂

You failed again.

You can't even blame him this time.

This is all your fault.

Victory was within your grasp.

All that matters to a von Karma is perfection.

And yet you gave him an opening.

A von Karma should be swift and merciless.

You're weak. He's gotten into your head. You can't stop thinking about him.

Even his name makes you sick.

Miles Edgeworth...

...

...why does it feel like you're forgetting something?