#i simply fulfilled my duty as an artist

[arom-antix]

Hello, I am back from the dead to bring you this extremely important image. Mans is not okay

Inspiration:

[janthewriter]

The Flowers and the Vase

Some people are like flowers, knowingly delicate and handled with care. They are pretty and adored by the masses just for simply existing. They are handpicked and they are always arranged in the most perfect way. But most of all, they are precious and treasured. With the love they are given, they are able to grow into their most beautiful form. And clustered together, they are abundant. I don’t think flowers realize how lucky they really are to be picked.

Sometimes I am like a flower- bold, colorful, soft, and uplifting. But no matter the similarities, flowers are always distinct from the vases that hold them together. And in truth, I am more like a vase- hard and rigid. But I have to be, for the upkeep of the flowers.

Once a flower graces someone with it’s appearance, the vase almost becomes nonexistent. Vases never get picked up, only put down. Sometimes there are outliers, people that actually acknowledge the vase. But it isn’t the natural pureness or beautiful quality that captures the eyes. Instead, it’s the curvature of the vase that intrigues the curious mind of the viewer. Instead, it’s the texture of the vase that someone feels inclined to touch for the satisfaction of themselves.

Flowers come and go, but the thing about vases is they always remain. They are left empty, waiting for flowers to feel them- fulfill them. But even if they are given their wish, they are only limited to performing their given duty before they are abandoned and forgotten about until the next flower comes along. Vases see an endless cycle of flowers wither away, yet somehow they still manage to keep a small amount of hope that a new flower will make its acquaintance.

Although, vases are known for holding everything together, let’s not forget they are just as fragile as the flowers they help display. A careless move or one toss out of anger, can leave the vase shattered into a million pieces. Pieces left for someone to attempt to put back together. Pieces that can be glued together, but will never quite be the same. Different, the vase still stands. After all, the vase is nothing but a holder of the flowers.

~J.U.

**Disclaimer: I took months off from writing because of self doubt, so please be easy. There’s no real structure or form. This is nothing professional, just my recent thoughts in word form. And photo credits of the picture above go to the original artist.

[cssns]

CSSNS Get to Know Me!

Welcome back to @hollyethecurious​ !

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

I watched the show faithfully each week since the pilot aired, but didn't join the fandom until S5

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

When Emma held that knife against Killian's throat

What drew you to this event?

My bestie Krystal and her impeccable enabling skills

What inspired your topic?

The Law of Surprise from The Witcher, but this is not a Witcher fic.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

King David lifted his sword and repositioned it to Killian’s other shoulder. “Then in addition to accepting your allegiance, and in accordance with the practices and traditions of this land, I not only recognize your selfless bravery in saving my life, but offer you a boon in addition to my gratitude.”

Killian’s brows pinched together and he felt the tips of ears go red. Other than the Queen’s remarks after he’d regained consciousness, nothing more had ever been mentioned regarding his actions that day in battle. He had simply been doing his duty; never would he have imagined a public ceremony, much less a boon.

“It gives me great pleasure to bestow upon you…” the King continued, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed hard. “The Law of Surprise.”

A flurry of murmurs erupted throughout the throne room. Killian’s lips parted in shock and his brother had to assist him back to standing.

The Law of Surprise. A windfall whose nature is unknown to the parties involved. Whatever treasure or lands or blessing the King had yet to become aware of, but destiny had already designed for him, would actually be Killian’s to claim, the value of which could be innumerable.

Vaguely, Killian was aware of the order that the hall be cleared as the King offered the lieutenant his hand. Accepting the gesture, he managed to croak out a quiet ‘thank you’.

“No. Thank you,” Queen Snow replied warmly, having joined the men from the dais. “Both of you. This Kingdom is forever in your debt.”

“And I am in yours,” King David declared, releasing Killian hands. “Until the Law of Surprise is fulfilled. So…” Reaching into his robes, the King produced a scroll, sealed with the Sovereign stamp. Handing it over to Liam, he continued, “Take all precautions to keep yourselves safe during this mission the Queen and I am tasking you with. These orders are to be kept under seal until you are ready to depart from our shores. We cannot risk anyone finding out.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Laim replied, taking the scroll and giving a reverential bow of his head. “Come, little brother,” Liam prompted, slapping Killian on the back. “We have our orders and must ready the Jewel.”

Killian stumbled, his body slow to obey, still too overcome by what had transpired. Bowing to their Majesties, Killian was about to follow his brother out of the hall when the Queen surprised him once again by throwing her arms around him and giving him a tight hug. Words seemed to get caught in her throat for a moment, and Killian sensed there was something she wished to say, but then thought better of it.

When she finally pulled away, she took his hand in hers and imparted, “Take care of one another and return home as quickly as you can.”

“Aye,” Killian answered with one last nod of his head. “Until we meet again, Your Majesty.”

For our artists: What kind of art do you like to do? Picsets, painting, digital, etc? Feel free to give as much info as you like.

I do picsets and moodboard

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?

Dragging the muse out of her hiatus. She's rested long enough!

Yes, she has @hollyethecurious​ ! We’re looking forward to what you and your muse have in store for us on July 27th!

[lewisiana]

Excessive Selfness

Lewis often claimed to struggle with pride or self-centeredness. Here's a letter he wrote to a friend in 1930 and then another to someone who asked him for advice thirty years later -

January 30, 1930

I have found out ludicrous and terrible things about my own character.

Sitting by, watching the rising thoughts to break their necks as they pop up, one learns to know the sort of thoughts that do come. And, will you believe it, one out of every three is a thought of self-admiration: when everything else fails, having had its neck broken, up comes the thought ‘What an admirable fellow I am to have broken their necks!’ I catch myself posturing before the mirror, so to speak, all day long.

I pretend I am carefully thinking out what to say to the next pupil (for his good, of course) and then suddenly realize I am really thinking how frightfully clever I’m going to be and how he will admire me.

I pretend I am remembering an evening of good fellowship in a really friendly and charitable spirit–and all the time I’m really remembering how good a fellow I am and how well I talked.

And then when you force yourself to stop it, you admire yourself for doing that. It's like fighting the hydra.

June 10, 1962 -

You are of course perfectly right in defining your problem (which is also mine and everyone's) as 'excessive selfness'. But perhaps you don't fully realize how far you have got by so defining it.

All have this disease: fortunate are the minority who know they have it. To know that one is dreaming is to be already nearly awake, even if, for the present, one can't wake up fully.

And you have actually got further than that. You have got beyond the illusion (v. common) that to recognise a chasm is the same thing as building a bridge over it.

Your danger now is that of being hypnotized by the mere sight of the chasm, of constantly looking at this excessive selfness.

The important thing now is to go steadily on acting, so far as you can - and you certainly can to some extent, however small - as if it wasn't there.

You can, and I expect you daily do - behave with some degree of unselfishness. You can and do make some attempt at prayer.

The continual voice which tells you that your best actions are secretly filled with subtle self-regard, and your best prayers still wholly egocentric - must for the most part be simply disregarded - as one disregards the impulse to keep on looking under the bandage to see whether the cut is healing. If you are always fidgeting with the bandage, it never will.

A text you should keep much in mind is I John 3:20: 'If our heart condemns us God is greater than our heart.'

I sometimes pray 'Lord give me no more and no less self-knowledge than I can at this moment make a good use of.'

Remember He is the artist and you are only the picture. You can't see it. So quietly submit to be painted-i.e. keep on fulfilling all the obvious duties of your station (you really know quite well enough what they are!), asking forgiveness for each failure and then leaving it alone.

You are in the right way. Walk - don't keep on looking at it.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

8.12.24 Another Monday

8:24 am

Uncle DD is here again with Aunt Karen...Hmm....Not sure but I know I locked the door in our kitchen and he was able to open it....I will let it pass today...

Drinking my first cup of coffee...

1:08 pm

Still,have windblow...

My nana is watching "eat bulagah"....Tito,Vic & Joey mentioned again "Carmeloh"...

I'm watching "The Umbrella Academy" there are siblings who have super powers and one of them named FIVE, got a job somewhere,he became a part of case manager, people who created stories and plot a story for someone.

I wanna understand everything, if I talk to KC... I first saw her time that I worked in Cebu Pacific Air as ground attendant.

The first time that I saw KC was the time that I worked in Cebu Pacific Air as ground attendant. KC was already on her peak and looked like a hollywood artist already,with her long line crew... Huge crew...

So, many past stories happened that time to me but to make the story short... Time that my X-Ryan went to his seaman duty, I went back here in Cavite and I remember watching "Sharon Cuneta" show coz I just saw it on TV and I was just resting in the house. Time that I had my partial amnesia... But I was still able to work.

I just don't want Mitch to escape.... If she did something... I want her to explain everything... Did she give me this "simple battery"?

If I had friends, I wanted to be returned in a way... But some group put an obstacle on me... For me to be simply forgotten. I want to be pampered again or to be known as spoiled.

Returning in any way but not putting an obstacle on my maturity.

Some people put an obstacle for me not to get success for 17 years already, the plotter or someone made a case story for me to be "simply forgotten"...

The enemy wanted me to be "simply forgotten"!!!

I just don't want Mitch to escape without me knowing everything...

I still wanna get Garret or my cousin white and Pete and Ash... I need a talk... But I truly love my cousin-white.

I wanna see people that I wanna see...

I hate Manalo's until the end!!!

I wanna be the case manager of Manalo's, I hate them so much and some of their bad hearts group! Tragic for them...

Save my beloved...Save the people who are genuine to me...

KC must attack the Manalo's artist be assisted by Bea...Coz they are tall and skinny... They are stealers as well...

It should happen KC and Bea....Make it happen... I'm your sister and this is the case to plot and fulfill... The instructions are here...

Again, I can kill a traitor friend.....I will monitor the case of Manalo...

I feel bitterish...

I can kill a traitor friend coz it is so painful!!!

Let's be "Rainbow Umbrella Corporation"....

[faultedloyalty]

“‘Anything’, you say?” The question is rhetorical, said merely to hear himself speak more than anything—the pen is all but flying across the sketch-page already, the illustration coming to life beneath his fingers without pause. “It’s quite my luck that I can work with such an open-ended wish, then.”

A chuckle is tacked onto the end; he can’t help the tease, can’t help from making his own amusement, at the young man’s expense. He thinks, for a moment, of how very dangerous that word is, when spoken to a creature like him—one cannot, should not, face his kind and say they wish for him to do ‘anything’. Even if it is just in the context of a quick drawing, such a thing bears consequence still (nothing is trivial, unless he so chooses to see it so).

Consequences, however, do not always have to be meted out on a grand scale; he is no stranger to doling out more than is fair, at times, but he is also not without his understanding of what could be too far. So Daisuke will suffer a small laugh, if only to satisfy Sebastian’s inability to ignore such the infraction (and for the better that he does—Saying such things, most especially without hesitation, can get even the most iron-willed beings into trouble, some day.)

“My, but do forgive me; I assumed not that you had meant so, either.” He corrects his own infraction easily, only sparing a glance (calculative speculation masked into apology) up from his work before he returns to it again. “Neither is it so unusual to assume that I have created art for my Master, however; what I meant is that his age is not the correlation to my doing so.”

Really, it is not as if he’s complaining; his meal does not need to be artistically inclined in order for him to consume it, after all. Beyond what is required of his education, his Master hardly partakes in the more creative avenues of life as it is (a soul living only for and until its want for revenge is fulfilled will hardly allot itself time for the finer aspects of existence).

“Nevertheless, there is no need for apology.” He continues on, the matter dismissed as easily as the clouds parting above them to reveal the sun. “Offense was neither intended nor done, if I may so humbly assume myself; there is no need for worry.”

But, oh, satisfaction curls deep and twisting within his mind as the young man finally gives in. Dark, smug elation is hard to keep from his own features; even if it took time, he got what he wanted out of the offer, and it is nothing short of pleasing.

Is it not so much easier to simply relent, to acquiesce to one’s own desires? Human’s overwhelmingly have such an inability to resist them for long, and even with a far more limited patience for waiting to see it done than he lets on, he will never tire of seeing attempts to try crumble with just a bit of prodding.

“That you would accept our gift at all is gratitude enough.” Especially for myself; I require nothing more. “Please, I implore you to think nothing of it.”

His duty as both creature and butler fulfilled, for the time being, he hardly notices when his own hands still over the paper. What he’s drawn is one of the roses growing in the garden, close-up and detailed—simplistic in its choice, perhaps even predictable given where they are, but he’s sure it matters not. Not just for it having gone said, but also because the young man had been enthralled by them upon initial sight. Though, to think it’s merely his duties that give him pause would be wrong, because what is this about him knowing famed artists, might young Daisuke elaborate on that—?

(Ah, but wait; it would not be so off-base...)

“...Young Master Daisuke,” he starts, , “it was not to my knowledge that you were of such infamy yourself!”

A light scold, mostly untrue; he’d done his reading of the Niwa family several days prior to the young man’s arrival, but what-with the warning of the Phantom Thief appearing, he hadn’t gotten far. Other than being of worth-enough to have his Master agree to their young son paying a visit, there’d been little other evidence to suggest they were of nobility beyond any norm—knowing artists of any sort was mere territorial expectation.

(And yet, he still can’t help but to want to press; if only to see what is found in doing so.)

“To be so acquainted with famous artists,” it doesn’t matter that they weren’t named or known to him, “that they give you advice, surely you would know something of criticism. Might this be a way for you to judge my talents instead of merely observing them, despite the knowledge that my own work will pale in comparison to such famed individuals? How very cruel of you; to make me think you were merely interested...”

Feigned self-doubt sees him sighing dramatically, tilting the sketch away from the human’s sight. Surely he could have been warned he would be in the presence of one like this, he would have prepared his heart—!

(His facetiousness knows no bounds.)

' mm , well , really --- ' he considers it for a moment : what he'd like against what he'd dare to say that he might need , and his heart's curiosity quickly wins out versus the rest . ' anything is okay ... ! '

even if sebastian's work turned out infinitely complex , wouldn't he still be able to study it , then ? taking to it like a souvenir , one he would find far more intriguing and organic than what priceless piece his mother expected him to return with from this place .

' er , uh ! i didn't mean anything bad by it about ciel being so young , either --- i guess i just imagined you drawing for him often , maybe ... ' or was that simply the sort of thing he'd have had his own butler doing , if argentine was anything like half as well-put together as the aide before him ?

the more he thought it over , the more stupid everything seemed after-all . even his own hidden dexterity contributed little to nothing towards creative endeavors . what did it matter how swift or clever a butler and phantom thief could be ? without the proper sense for art , motions were merely motions : ' ... sorry , i shouldn't have assumed anything . '

his head dips and his shoulders slump a little ; in the end , he easily relents . ' if it's really no trouble for a sketchbook either , then , um ... t-thank you . thank you to you both ... ! '

and an enormous apology , one he doesn't dare to actually voice , though the anxiety of such a decision remains clear on his troubled expression --- easily mistaken for a polite discomfort in accepting whatsoever . the irony of his interests has never gone unrecognized , at least by his own self . a phantom thief's duty was to rob fine arts ; not laughably attempt to produce them . sebastian's words could have comforted , if only they didn't remain half ignorant .

a pity and a shame , but best kept that way --- such various lies and omissions were perpetual , outright necessity . nevertheless , daisuke keeps his curious gaze down at the butler's work in progress .

' at least i can say if making art wasn't fun , not even a little a bit , then i probably wouldn't care about it so much . besides , back at home , i made friends with a lot of really famous , incredible artists --- ' lives that were like beautiful works of art in their own right . ' they were nice enough to give even someone like me compliments and lessons , sometimes ... so maybe i just don't want to disappoint them . '

[talesofourworlds]

This goes hand in hand with that one post I made about an Ivar AU a while back. I'm just gonna dump my dumb Walter is Milla's handmaid Xillia AU here because I've also put a lot of thought into it. Under the cut because Xillia spoilers and because of length.

Much the same as that Ivar AU I talked about, this is a roleswap AU. So Walter is born into the role of being Milla Maxwell's handmaid in the village of Nia Khera. He takes his duties very, very seriously and throws himself into intensive training for the role from a young age. He's as loyal and dutiful as one can expect from Maxwell's handmaid, but Walter is, to put it simply, very intense about his role.

There's not a day that goes by where he's not seen with a serious face and focused intently on his duties. As a result, Milla feels quite a different way about Walter than she would about Ivar. She thinks of Walter as incredibly difficult to be around and gets frustrated with his need to constantly look out for her. After all, Milla is more than capable of taking care of herself. She has the Four. Unlike Ivar, though, Walter is more than willing to extend his duties to protecting the people of Nia Khera if Milla asks if it of him.

Walter lacks Ivar's ability of beastcraft. So in this AU, he wouldn't be able to communicate with the wyverns the party needs later in the story. Instead of beastcraft, Walter has the ability to manipulate mana around him to do as he sees fit. He specifically utilizes this ability to craft wings made from highly condensed wind mana. Walter is something of a prodigy because of this. He isn't on Rowen's level of being able to use spirit artes, but is still more than capable of performing spirit artes. He's mostly wind based, believing himself to be blessed by Sylph in particular. He also can utilize water based spirit artes and is a skilled martial artist.

Also unlike Ivar, Walter does not refer to Milla by Lady Milla. He instead simply calls Milla 'Maxwell,' due to her position as the Lord of Spirits. He respects Milla a great deal and feels that he only should call her by her title out of that desire to respect.

When Milla goes to fulfil her mission at the beginning of the game, prior to meeting Jude, Walter is tasked with protecting Nia Khera. He obliges, of course, without question. Naturally, he's pissed as all hell when Milla returns to Nia Khera with a pair of strangers and discovers that she's lost her ability to summon the Four. He immediately blames Jude for this, aggressively going at him until Milla calls him off and explains the situation. Similarly to Ivar, Walter cannot stand Jude for being so close to Milla. He thinks it's an insult, especially with how casually Jude talks to Milla and how he seems to have just waltzed into his charge's life.

One thing that does stay constant is the line about how a handmaid is born, not made. Walter utters this with particular disgust when he tells Jude this. Naturally, he's taken aback when Milla basically tells him to back off from Jude. He complies with her wishes, but glares daggers at Jude for a long while afterward.

Naturally, when they have a moment away from Walter, Jude immediately asks Milla something along the lines of 'Is your handmaid always so scary?' And Milla just sighs and confirms it.

Walter is also pretty unwilling to trust Alvin. Something about his general manner from the word go rubs him the wrong way. He lets that much go in their first meeting in favor of focusing on being pissed at Jude for existing, but boy howdy as the story goes on he has more and more reason to be suspicious of him.

When Walter is tasked with staying in Nia Khera after that first meeting with Jude, he's a tiny bit reluctant. He tries to persuade Milla that he should stay by her side and help her complete her quest himself rather than letting a stranger do his job. In the end, he agrees to stay behind. For a while he does as he's asked. After all, he's always done what Milla asks of him. However, the longer he's attending to Nia Khera, the more agitated he becomes over the idea of Milla trusting Jude to stay at her side more than him. So he leaves Nia Khera in pursuit of Milla.

This eventually leads to him finding Milla after the incident at Fort Gandala. Of course he's pissed that Milla is hurt and, much the same as Ivar in canon, fights Jude. Eventually Jude beats him and Walter has to accept that, for now, he has to do what Milla tells him again. He's very grumbley and glares quite a bit at Jude before accepting his duty to protect the key of the Lance of Kresnik. When he realizes how important this job is, he vows to take it as seriously as he does anything else.

And eventually he crosses paths with the party when they're trying to get to Fennmont again. Unlike Ivar, Walter isn't convinced to be at the location of the boar because of a letter he received. He knows how important his duty to protect the key is, but he noticed something seemed off when he was making his way back to Nia Khera. He tries to explain that the Spirit Climes seemed to not have changed, but that's when the boar attacks.

The party can't get to Fennmont the way they planned. Walter takes the opportunity to suggest he simply Fly Milla to where she needs to be, but when Rowen remembers that Xian Du is known for having wyverns they could make use of the plan is thwarted. Remember, Walter doesn't have Ivar's beastcrafting abilities. Frustrated, Walter leaves in a huff.

This next particular bit I'm uncertain on and is subject to change, but this is what I've got so far.

When it comes to the battle that happens in the marsh Walter isn't tricked into believing he's doing a good thing by using the key. Walter does end up being there because he's concerned for Milla's safety, and in the confusion of the battle Alvin ends up separated from the party. Walter, still absolutely not trusting Alvin because of his bad gut feeling about him, fights Alvin here. The fight is interrupted when Gaius shows up, and in the confusion Alvin is able to knock the lance's key out of Walter's possession before slipping away again. The battle with Gaius still happens, but Walter scrambles away before Milla can see him there.

And Alvin grabs the key when the rest of the party is distracted fighting Gaius and tries to get to the Lance. But he actually hesitates a moment. His hesitation leads to Walter revealing himself, interrupting the battle because Walter is so devoted to protecting the key. However, since Walter is still weak from his earlier clash with Alvin, Alvin is able to overpower him.

And everyone stares in disbelief as Alvin activates the Lance. The while thing with Exodus occurs and the party is divided in the chaos that follows the Lance being fired, of course, and reconveens after Jude has met Muzét and everything else happens. Walter, of course, is also there. And he doesn't trust Alvin for a second. Especially not after the stunt he pulled in the marsh. Of course, Alvin explains everything when he's made to and adds that he just wanted to go home. But he hadn't expected Gilland and everyone to come through like they had.

Walter plays a decent role in the missions that follow, actually earning the respect of the Chimeriad where Ivar failed to. However, he still is infuriated by how close Jude has gotten to Milla. Especially so after catching sight of the pendant that Milla gave Jude much earlier. So Walter puts his all into the Zenethra attack and is devastated when Milla dies when everything is said and done.

With no one left to serve, Walter is left angry and adrift. He ends up fighting Muzét well after Milla's death because she can't leave anyone who was onboard the Zenethra alive. And she nearly kills him. However, Muzét realizes she can use Walter. She convinces him that it was Jude's fault that Milla died. And desperate for something to cling to, Walter believes her.

"Kill Jude, Walter. Then all will be as it should be."

"It won't bring Maxwell back."

"No. But won't it feel good? Doing in the human who is responsible?"

This leads to the final showdown between him and Jude and the rest of the party. However, in his weakened state, Walter isn't able to put up as good of a fight as he would otherwise. When he ends up losing, Elize and Teepo suggest leaving him because of how much of a jerk he's seemed to be.

But Jude refuses. In fact, Jude heals Walter, who does try to resist and tries again to hurt Jude but isn't able to because of how hurt he is. Naturally, Walter is confused because why the hell would someone he's tried to kill have sympathy for him.

And Jude, being the do-gooder that he is, explains that he can't just let Walter die when he only was trying to uphold his duty to Milla in the past. And explains how he understands how Walter must have lost his sense of purpose without Milla. After all, Jude felt much the same way after Milla died.

Due to how bad of a state Walter is in after this fight, even with Jude healing him, he doesn't end up joining the Chimeriad's final stand in the endgame. But he is the last survivor, technically speaking, since the Chimeriad accepted him filling Jiao's role. So when everything is said and done he's offered a position as Gaius' guard permanently. Since he has nothing else to do, and the people of Nia Khera don't need a protector so much since the little village is significantly smaller, he agrees. He doesn't ever quite end up becoming friends with Jude, but does respect him a bit more than he did to start.

No idea how things would play out with Walter in Xillia 2, but that's another thought process for another day.

[1016anon]

Title: Daemon AU Author: 55anon Fandom: Bridgerton Relationship: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma Summary: Daemons. Athena is a sulfur crested cockatoo, Maanvir is a barasingha, Lord Helios is a luikse vechter rooster.

A/N -- I've had this sitting in my folder for a while and have made no progress. Figured I might as well post it. Sometimes putting things up on tumblr seems to help. No guarantees, &tc., you know the deal.

Anthony sometimes wished Athena had settled after Father had died.  He liked to imagine that if he had a less needy, annoying, pretentious, loud daemon, he might have been better suited to take over his duties.

"Yes, and I wish I had an artistic, compassionate, calm, quiet human, but one must make do, mustn't one," she fluffed up her feathers in irritation, crest half unfurled.

"Wishing you were Boudica again, are you?"

"At least Benedict has fun.  I spend all my nights watching you scribble figures and signatures in eternal tedium."

"Unfortunately we were not born second, we were born first and I'll thank you not to remind me of it," Anthony snapped.

"Of course, my Lord.  One must fulfill one's duties– tell me, how is the search progressing?"

"If you would accompany me instead of flying off to god-knows-where to satisfy your curiosity, you would know."

"It is entertaining to watch you wince as though the young lady in question has broken your foot."

"You know you've gained the reputation of having abominable manners."

"And yet I am unmoved.  What is the use of having wings if one of us cannot fly away?  I refuse to be trapped in some ballroom, forced to make polite conversation with these chits and their mamas.  Besides, you already have a reputation as a rake and a boor."

"This.  This is why I must toil away in the midnight hours with quill and ink.  Money will cover all sorts of sins."

Athena picked up one of the gold coins Anthony kept for her entertainment and began hammering it against his inkstand.  He glared at her, then went back to responding to the pile of letters.

She kept knocking and began squawking, bobbing her head up and down to the rhythm.  Anthony knew she could do a very good imitation of a string quartet; her dissonant squawks were very much a deliberate choice.

"Fine!  What?!  What do you want to tell me!  Out with it."

"While you were having such a fine, restless night at Madam C's, I saw the most beautiful girl yesterday in the park."

"In the park– in the pre-dawn hours?"

"She was glorious, racing against herself.  You must meet her, Anthony.  Tomorrow, or the following morning– she is the one we shall marry."

"Pardon?  You want us to marry a… merchant's daughter or some sort of nonsense?"

"She returned to Mayfair– in the direction of Lady Danbury's house.  I couldn't go further, you were quite insistent on calling me back."

"You do realize your range–"

"Our range"

"– is most unnatural.  Most cannot imagine being so far removed from their daemon."

"I am well aware," she pulled out the abacus and dropped it on his desk, knocking a pile of papers to the floor, then began pushing the beads as noisily as possible.

"Are you going to let me get anything done tonight?"

"No."

"I cannot further put off responding to these letters."

"You can.  You just think it your duty to respond in a 'timely' manner."

"We are not going to have this argument yet again."

"You say it as though you have a choice."

"Why are you so restless?  You've been like this ever since I decided to marry."

She ignored him and kept playing with the abacus.  Most nights– ever since Father had passed away– she had helped him with the necessary calculations.  Athena was now faster and more accurate than him, having learned how to divide and multiply; she was even able to use two at once with her clever feet.  Currently, she was simply using the abacus to annoy him.

"I couldn't see her daemon.  They must have extensive range, or her daemon is small."

"Very well– we shall chase down this young lady in the park, alarm her, and ensure we shall never see her again.  Are you satisfied?"

Athena tilted her head at him in extreme condescension, went to the window and flew away.  She had long since learned how to open it on her own; recently she had been flying to parts unknown more and more often.  Not only that, she had been pushing the distance she could put between them, as though she wanted to be free of Anthony; Athena had once called their connection 'shackles of grief.'

Anthony sighed as he settled in for another lonely night of Athena tugging on his heart, fighting against their connection; Anthony was certain she would break it one day.  He'd hoped that she of all people would understand why he was determined to marry this season– and she did understand.  She simply hated him for it.  Her avian counterpart, Cacatua galerita, were monogamous birds who developed very strong pair bonds with their partner; in Anthony's opinion, this was ridiculous.  Many– if not most– daemons did not take after their natural species in this particular aspect, but it seemed Athena did.

Sometimes it felt like he didn't know her, nor did she know him.  They got into arguments more often these days; it always ended in a stalemate, both of them frustrated or furious with the other and refusing to concede.  He did not quite know what it said of him that his mother and siblings did not notice.  But– unless he was visiting Madame C's establishment– she always returned and woke him by preening his hair (or screeching in his ear, if she was feeling peevish).  If he woke before her, he always stroked her smooth white feathers and scratched her head where she wasn't able to preen herself.

He felt their tether stretch to agony before she relented.

This was going to be a painful night, the constant feeling of being scraped raw to their limits and rent in two pushing under his heart.  

Anthony picked up his quill.  It was nothing he could not work through.  The letters were not going to write themselves.

–

"Maanvir."

"Kathani."

"Why is a daemon following us?"

"Perhaps because you are flouting all the rules of English high society by riding in the park at dawn, yet are dressed like one of their fine ladies."

"Have they been following us every morning?"

"I wouldn't know.  I was sleeping, like most sensible daemons."

"Liar.  You're still recovering from being seasick."

"Shall we introduce ourselves?"

"What?!  No!"

"It only seems polite.  I don't think they mean to do us harm."

"Where is their human?"

"Probably sleeping."

"I wasn't aware that the English were able to have their daemons travel such distances."

"Another reason why we should introduce ourselves.  We have something in common."

"No."

"They feel like a kindred spirit.  You could use a friend."

"Or they could go back to their human and tell them about our rides.  Let's see how far the connection goes."

She urged her horse forward, occasionally looking back and happy to see the bird could not follow.

"My antlers are going to get tangled in these branches," Maanvir said crossly.

"You didn't have to follow."

"I was curious."

"You were tired of being cooped up in Lady Danbury's garden, you mean."

"Continue on with your ride.  I'm going to find a place to graze."

"Don't talk to the daemon," she called after Maanvir, who only flicked his tail at her.  "Maanvir, I'm serious!"

Kathani made a noise of frustration, then went the opposite direction.  Her daemon was too stubborn.

–

"Hello!" Athena chirped with barely contained excitement.  She'd had a feeling the daemon would turn around.  "How are you?  My name is Athena, my human is sleeping somewhere."

"Maanvir– I think you already saw my human.  Are you always this glad to meet new daemons?"

"No, but you and I are going to be very good friends."

Maanvir laughed.  "Regardless of what our humans say?"

"My human is stubborn and stupid– I pay him no heed these days."

"I know the feeling well.  Would you like to perch on my antlers?"

"Oh, that would be lovely!" She fluttered down delicately.  "You look so majestic in the morning sun."

"Thank you," Maanvir blushed.

"Where are you from?"

"We recently arrived from India."

"India!  That's such a long distance to travel.  I saw your human go towards Danbury House– are you the daemons that Lord Helios is hosting?"

"We are.  Myself, Cicero, and Lord Julius."

"Lord Julius?  He's English?"

"Yes.  Would you like an introduction?"

"I couldn't possibly.  Lord Helios is very strict about these things– he always insists that humans must be introduced first before daemons are allowed to speak to each other, which I think is ridiculous.  If I waited for an introduction to every daemon I wished to speak to, I wouldn't be able to speak to anyone."

"It is not so different in India, but I agree it's a stupid convention.  Your human sounds very unfriendly."

"He's very important among humans.  In truth, you're supposed to address me as Lady Athena, but I can't stand the thought of such formalities coming between us.  Do you not agree?"

"I feel the same.  I've never allowed anyone to perch on my antlers before, you know.  My human guards herself very carefully."

"My human doesn't like it if I get too close to other daemons.  He says it's unseemly.  Then he says I'm abominably rude for not staying with him to call on daemons I dislike.  I hate it."

"Is that why you fly away?"

"Yes.  What about you?  Why do you spend time away from your human?"

"She also doesn't like it when I get too close.  I understand her reasons– humans have taken advantage of her, but it makes life very lonely."

"It does," Athena said, forlorn.

"We have each other now," Maanvir said gently.

"We do," she made a happy noise.  "I want to apologize ahead of time– my human is probably going to be quite rude to yours."

"No need to apologize.  My human will be twice as rude in return."

"Sometimes I feel like I barely know him.  We argue all the time these days."

"My human and I used to be quite close, but lately she's made some decisions I adamantly disagree with."

Maanvir walked on in silence, comforted by Athena's presence.  She was surprisingly light– it was no burden at all to carry her.

"Do you mind if I preen you?" she asked suddenly.

"Preen me?" Maanvir said, surprised.

"Never mind," Athena blushed.  "Only, I feel as though I've known you all my life."

"I feel the same."

Athena hopped down and perched on Maanvir's head as she gently began to preen.

Unfortunately, it was not long before they both felt their humans tugging on their connection.

"I must go.  Will I see you again tomorrow?"

"Of course, Athena.  You're always welcome to perch."

Athena pressed her beak against Maanvir's forehead in a little kiss.  "I already miss you."

"I also."

She made a frustrated noise in the direction of her human, then took flight.

–

"Who were you with?"

"Good morning to you too, Anthony."

"Stop avoiding the question.  I could feel you."

"Could you?  I thought you closed off our connection.  You've become quite adept at it."

"Athena," Anthony sighed.  "I don't want to fight with you."

"You're only going to forbid me from seeing him again–"

"Him?"

"This is precisely the reason why I no longer tell you anything."

"The girl in the park.  Athena, you're supposed to help me search for a wife, not carry on an affair with another daemon!"

Athena screeched and went towards the window.  Anthony quickly slammed it shut.

"No, we are having this conversation and we are having it now."

"There's nothing to discuss!  You're going to marry some simpering debutante I despise and make me miserable for the rest of our life, so let me have this one happiness before you clip my wings and stuff me in your gilded cage!"

"I would never do that to you!  Is that really what you think of me?"

"You may have closed your side of the connection, but I haven't.  I know what's waiting for me in the years to come."

"What am I to do when you fly away at every opportunity?  We have duties."

"You have duties."

"You and I are head of this household–"

"Where in those duties does it say you cannot marry for love?"

"Love–," he took one look at her and collapsed into his chair.  "Fuck, you've gone and fallen in love."

"Yes.  I've fallen in love, and he's wonderful.  He makes me happy, which is more than I can say of you at the moment."

"We cannot afford to fall in love!"

"So you've said many times.  And since I'm tethered to you, I know one day you will keep me from seeing him ever again.  I want to be happy, Anthony!  Why won't you understand that?"

"You refused to go anywhere near Rossini despite my feelings for Siena and now you've gone and fallen in love."

"Cockatoos are monogamous birds who only form one pair bond in their life."

"You are not a cockatoo, you are a daemon– there's no reason for you to follow their mating patterns."

"There's no reason for you not to marry for love."

"You're beginning to sound like Mother."

"On this one point, Octavius is right."

"You and Octavius agree on something.  Surely the end of days has come."

Anthony put his hand out, exhausted.  Athena perched on his fingers.

"Could you please follow my lead on this?  Just this once?" he stroked her wing.  "I hate fighting with you."

"Anthony," she pressed her beak against the furrow between his brows.  "I always follow your lead, in everything."

On this, he had to concede.  She was the one person in his life he could rely on, always, to fight for his happiness.  He had overruled her so many times.

"I won't ask you to marry against your duty, I won't even introduce you to his human.  This is the last chance I have for something that's mine, and mine alone.  Please let me have this."

"All right," he said, defeated.

"Thank you."

"Don't introduce me to his human.  I don't want to know."

"I won't," she hopped on his head and began preening.

"Will you stay with me today?"

"I'll stay in the same building."

"I'll take what I can get."

"You're so melodramatic– you hate it when I perch on your shoulder.  Or hide underneath your hat."

"We're calling on Miss Goring."

"I think I'm being rather generous by staying in the house at all."

"Don't hover by the door."

"Spoilsport."

Anthony smiled and simply sat for a few moments.  Then looked at his watch, waited for Athena to hop down and opened the window.

"Breakfast with the family," he said.

"Don't dawdle," she replied, and took off.

[oraclekleo]

Lee Soo Hyuk (Korean Actor) - Love is a Battlefield Tarot Reading

Disclaimer:

All readings have purely entertainment nature

I don’t know any of the celebrities personally

Don’t base life decisions purely on tarot readings

I can never guarantee any of what’s said in the reading

Before requesting, read the pinned post and appropriate linked post

Tarot readings are my hobby - I’m not obligated to accept any of the requests nor to complete them, it’s my choice, not duty

Waiting time is long, even several months

If you can’t wait, please, seek other tarot reader

Reading Info:

Rating: 18+

Reading Type: Single - Couple

Requested: Yes - No

Requester: /

Deck: Runic Tarot

Spread: Love is a Battlefield

Questions:

Shining Armour (Their defence tactics) 

Excalibur (Their contra attack tactics) 

Achilles Heel (Their weak spot)

Abracadabra (The spell to crack their resistance) 

Waterloo (How to defeat them)

Celebrity Info:

Full Name: Lee Soo Hyuk

Stage Name: Lee Soo Hyuk

Group: Korean Actor

DOB: 31.05.1988

Sun Sign: Gemini

Chinese Sign: Earth Dragon

Life Path Number: 8

Masterpost: Solo Artists

Ko-fi - Voluntary Tip for Readings

Lee Soo Hyuk

Lee Soo Hyuk (Actor)

Deck: Runic Tarot

Spread: Love is a Battlefield

Shining Armour (Their defence tactics) - King of Shields (Pentacles)

When Soo Hyuk is falling in love at the wrong time, he simply slows down and gives the situation some serious consideration. He’s a wise, sensible and practical man, there’s no reason for him to rush into hasty decisions. He’s likely to postpone any activities with the person of interest and focus on his priorities.

Excalibur (Their contra attack tactics) - Page of Wands

If interruption of contact doesn’t seem to help and only builds the tension and craving up in Soo Hyuk, he’s likely to attack back and act erratically and unpredictable in hope it will confuse his person of interest and maybe even convince them they can’t match Soo Hyuk’s life tempo. He hopes his fiery energy and fast pace will make them fall behind and once he sees how weak of a person they are, his growing feelings will weather and die like a flower in winter.

Achilles Heel (Their weak spot) - XV The Devil

Always beware of what you wish for, Soo Hyuk! His person of interest might actually find it unnecessarily difficult and overly dramatic and they might actually truly cancel any contacts with him or simply take that job offer abroad. Once they are gone, Soo Hyuk might finally realise how vital and important they were for him, how he built a sensual addiction to them, how he misses the convos and bickering and even the constant battling with himself. Suddenly the world seems so bleak and barren and empty.

Abracadabra (The spell to crack their resistance) - 10 of Wands

If the person of Soo Hyuk’s interest wants to lure him back into their arms, they shouldn’t come begging to him. They need to become the person Soo Hyuk can admire and look up to, professionals in their field, busy and successful people with more irons in the fire. They should show him that their life is well fulfilled without him in it but that they are willing to incorporate Soo Hyuk into it and make him their priority when, and only when, he does the same.

Waterloo (How to defeat them) - 10 of Horns (Cups)

Soo Hyuk’s special person needs to show him that they are much stronger and successful when forming a harmonious union rather than when they are living solitarily. Soo Hyuk is not someone who would give his freedom up easily, he needs to know that this is a genuine, truthful, serious and long term affair. He has high standards and won’t lower them for anyone. His special person needs to show him, he doesn’t have to and he will still be unconditionally loved. That’s the only way to make Soo Hyuk confess to tender feelings.

Thank you for reading!

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[dailyeca]

I am simply here, also hellooo scarlet how are youu?

hiiii!! :D aww me? im doing peachy! i thought id fulfill my "communications co-manager" duties and give updates to ecas current commissioners, and also answer some of the asks you all have been sending! weve got a few stackin up in the inbox! :>

stickers is making soup for lunch! and eca is doing super important artist things! :p

[hops-hunny]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: None, just more fuel to the fire. Fluff!!

A/N: Honestly this was fun to write, stay on the look out for chapter 2.5 -winks-

“Neville?!”

(Y/n) walked around the boy, taking in his appearance. She almost couldn't believe it was him. The lanky, tall, awkward boy she spent her days pining over had truly blossomed and from the looks of it, turned into a flower truly worth attention. Part of her almost didn't believe it was him but the cadence of his voice combined with the soft look in his eyes was more than enough confirmation. She'd recognize them anywhere.

The boy nodded, a small smile gracing his face as he held his arms open, inviting him into the warmth of his embrace. She accepted it gladly, sighing as she relaxed into them, squeaking a bit as she felt her feet leave the ground. Relaxing a bit, the girl closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around him tighter. 'Just like I remember..'

"Pardon?" He asked, causing her to tense as he sat her down. Had she said that out loud? If she had she certainly hadn't intended on doing so.

"N-nothing!" She started as she made her way back behind the counter, using her distance to admire his appearance. Twyla nudged her, still eyeing up the dangerous looking men.

"Geez (Y/n), and here I was thinking you were a complete prude. Who would've thought that you knew such hot guys!" She said, biting her lip as she eyed up the red head. The shorter girl crushed her foot, glaring up at her employee. She yelped but quieted up, staring down at her boss

"To be fair, I haven't seen any of them in 3 years. And plus, none of them looked like this during our years at Hogwarts." Her eyes drifted to the rings on Neville's thick tattooed hands. "I apologize for it taking me so long to recognize you, Nev. I hope I didn't make things too awkward."

"You're quite alright, petal. I'm not the same man I was when you went to school with me." He sighed, looking out the window into the distance as he adjusted his tie. "I've changed quite a bit."

(Y/n) could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't just referring to his new (but most certainly not unwelcomed) appearance, but he had been through some things as well. As much as she wanted to ask him about the things he had seen and the things he had done, she knew now wasn't the time. Neville had always been private about how he felt, that was another thing that clearly hadn't faded. She reached across the counter, placing her hand on top of his as she offered him a smile.

"So, how's life been treating ya? From the looks of it, I'd assume good?" She asked, watching as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. He went to speak but Twyla cut him off.

"Yeah, you look like you've got money! How'd you get so rich?" She leaned forward, eyes squint as she eyed them all. "What're you like loan sharks or something?"

"Something of the sorts." The redhead responded, nodding as he spoke. However (Y/n) was in shambles, she gaped at her friend, giving her a pissed look.

"Twyla you can't just go around asking people if they're rich!" She hissed out, going to tell her off but stopped as she felt a hand on top of hers. Neville chuckled some, patting her hand a few times.

"It's fine, 's only natural to be curious. And to answer your question…" he trailed off as if he was looking for an answer. "We work a less...desirable form of work. Lots of things people normally wouldn't wanna do."

"Yeah lots of paperwork. You wouldn't wanna hear about it, trust me." The freckled brunette finally spoke up. He held his hand out for the (h/c) haired girl to shake which she shook. "Seamus Finnigan."

"Oh! Your Nev's best friend, yeah? I remember during one of our herbology classes we had to leave because you blew something up." She began to giggle at the memory, trying to stifle some brasher laughter. "I don't know how you manage to do that with a plant. I'm (Y/n)." Seamus stepped back, clearing his throat as his face tinted a dark rouge.

"Oh trust me, we know. The bos- Neville would never shut up about you. Sometimes he still doesn't, going on about how he wonders what you're up to. Maybe running into you like this will shut him up a bit." The ginger spoke up, offering her a nod of acknowledgement. "Ron Weasley."

"Well it's clear who the lover boy here is swooning for but what about you two? Are you single?" Twyla asked, stepping from around the corner. The three of them began to converse, leaving the two former acquaintances to be amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry about her. She's got no filter on her mouth." She said, laughing to clear the stiffness to clear the air. He joined her, his familiar dopey smile on his face.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, really." He sighed, looking around the bakery. "You got a job in a bakery like you always wanted! I'm happy for you, truly." She could feel the sincerity in each of his words. During her time at Hogwarts, Neville had been kind enough to be the one to sample her baking all the time while encouraging her to follow her dreams. Having him in her bakery was enough to make her heart burst.

The girl felt her face heat up as she shrugged, smiling at him sheepishly. "Actually, I don't just work here, I uh," she looked back at him as he had his focus on her, engaged as every, "I own it."

His eyes widened as he gasped, a mix of happiness and shock on his face. "Really? That's even better!" Neville's eyes wandered along the different treats and such in the display table, looking at them in awe at the variety of things. Each item was different than the other and yet they all worked together. "I see you're still as creative with your flavors. You are a true artist, (Y/n)."

"I-I wouldn't go that far. I'm just doing what I love and I couldn't be happier." She squeezed the man's hand, trying to ignore the burning in her cheeks and ears. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. Whenever my parents would send me those awful howlers, you'd be right there to lift me back up."

He felt his eyes gloss over but blinked back his tears, clearing his throat as he unwillingly ripped his gaze from hers. "Wait- are those the chocolates? The ones with the brownie pieces in them?! I've been thinking about these for ages!" He exclaimed. If it weren't for the fact she was still nervous, she would've found humor in the giant, tattoo covered man freaking out about her coco brownie chocolates. 

"I remember you used to give them to me every valentine's day. We'd take them up to the astronomy tower and share them together." He sighed dreamily at the memory. "You were such a good friend for that!"

Right. Friends, that's what they were if you could even call them that. They rarely hung out with each other outside of school except for Valentine's day. She had originally gifted him the chocolates as a way to show how she felt about him but for some reason or another, he didn't realize the meaning behind them. She didn't correct him either. The way she saw it was any time she got with Neville was good time to her and that's all that mattered.

"Yeah...did you want me to pack some up for you?" She asked, reaching back for an empty box before leaning down, filling the box with the rest of the chocolates. "Here. My treat."

“Are you sure? I couldn’t possibly just take these from you! You’ve got a business to run here.” He responded, pushing the box back towards her. However, she pushed them right back, shaking her head.

“I’m positive! Think of it as an IOU for all those late night cram sessions during 7th year.” she wasn’t really giving them to him for that reason. Saying that though was just easier than saying ‘Hey take these, I’ve been in love with you for 5 years.’ and to be fair, she wasn’t in the mood for rejection. (Y/n) found herself being disappointed that even after all these years, she was conveying the way she felt for him through sweets. Anytime she went to say how she felt it was quickly just replaced with some excuse along the lines of ‘needing him to sample something’ when in reality, she knew her baking was good. But, there was just something so fulfilling from the way he’s eyes would light up whenever she’d give it to him, leaving the heart felt note in her pocket. 

“Thank you.” he smiled, taking them in his hands, acutely aware of the way her fingers were on his. He felt his face flush as he looked up at her, finding her eyes were already on his. “Listen (Y/n), I was wondering if you’d like to-” his words were cut short by the sound of a phone ringing. Shortly after Ron came up, whispering something in his ear which caused his soft expression to turn into stone. He gave him a nod, taking the box and ending the contact. “I’ve gotta get going. Duty calls! I’ll see you again soon, yeah?” he muttered something under his breath smiling at her before turning around and leaving the bakery. 

“Soo, what’s going on between you and the tall one?” Twyla questioned, sneaking another cookie from the display counter (which didn’t go unnoticed). (Y/n grabbed it from her hands, putting it back in the glass case as she rolled her eyes.

“First of all, you work at this bakery, not eat here. And second, nothing!” the blue haired girl gave her a look that screamed ‘bullshit’ which she simply chose to ignore. “He’s an old friend of mine and…”

“Andd?” she urged, using her hands to motion for her to continue. (Y/n) huffed, crossing her arms across her chest as she looked to the side.

“And my old crush. But I promise the only feelings we ever had in common were platonic ones!” she leaned over the counter, watching as his figure disappeared into the distance. A wave of regret fell over her wishing she had done something, anything to be able to see him again. She knew the reason he probably didn’t ask for her number was due to the fact that during her time at Hogwarts, she didn’t use a smart phone. It was something she had gotten into as of recent. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have asked for his.

“That looked like a lot more than platonic to me.” the green eyed girl sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as she spun around. “Love is in the air with you two! I can feel it, you know I’ve got a 6th sense for these sorta- woah! Look at the tip he fucking put in the jar!” she exclaimed, reaching her hand into the jar.

 (Y/n) gasped, eyes widening as she looked at the three hundred dollar bills in the girls hand. ‘I kinda wish I had just let him pay..’ she thought to herself. She grabbed the bills, holding them up in the light to check the authenticity. She knew Neville would never give her fake money but it was almost hard to believe that he had given it to her without hesitancy. When had he even done that?

“I told you they have money! I mean, did you see the ring he had on? The big skull one with the sapphire eyes?” she asked, watching as her boss shook her head. “There’s only 3 of those in the world! It’s a hefty price for one of them. They must be really good at what they do!”

“Since when do you know about fashion?” (Y/n) asked, causing Twyla to let out a dramatic gasp. 

“I’ll have you know I went to one of the most elite fashion schools in the wizarding world thank you very much!” (Y/n) eyed her suspiciously causing her to let out a sigh. “Okay I give up, I just shagged a guy who did. However I did steal his books!”

“Whatever.” she giggled out, walking over to hand a menu to a regular that walked in. She knew he didn’t need it but it was still common courtesy. “I just wonder what he was going to say before he left…”

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

As the sun began to set, (Y/n) flipped the sign to closed, closing the blinds. Although Wednesdays were their slow days, that didn’t mean they still didn’t get customers. There was also an unexpected lunch rush due to a conference being held in the hotel a few blocks over. Walking over to a cushion, she sat down relaxing into the softness of the chair. Her eyes shot open at the sound of the backroom door slamming open.

“You wanted excitement didn’t you?” her worker asked, causing her to nod cautiously. “Well get ready. We’ve got plans this weekend! Hope you’re ready for a much needed shopping trip.”

PREVIOUS||NEXT

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @beewitchedlou @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Introductions (AU; the government are introduced to the Emperor’s right hand man)

Emperor Palpatine sat at the helm of the table, his expensive ornate satin cloak pulled up to cover his deformed features. He had made a rare exception to the never appearing in public rule, if only to summon his little group of closely affiliated followers for a less than chummy supper. The Coruscant sun had already begun to set, its pinkish rays disappearing behind the skyscrapers visible from the large single viewport of the Emperor’s dining hall. Two months had passed since the fall of the Republic. Two months since the war came to an end, two months since the Jedi were declared traitors and executed en masse. Two months since Palpatine declared himself dictator, since his regulations had begun being pushed onto all known systems. Two months, and Governor Tarkin had thought himself to be lucky with his role.

A few faces, he recognized. Former admiral Wullf Yularen was a welcome addition despite being a bit below the required rank, fighting the just fight against outliers and naysayers. Orn Free Taa was a more unfortunate case (he had likely invited himself by flattery and empty promises), while Vizier Mas Amedda was an obvious presence. Sate Pestage, Janus Greejatus, Ars Dangor, Kren Blista-Vanee and Verge’s smug faces had Tarkin fighting the urge to roll his eyes at their insipid subservience. Artist Eveli Charis was, Tarkin figured, the most surprising member of the meeting - serving as the only female face of the small crowd. Her aside, and finance minister Gagh rounded off the gathering. 

These people were - each in different ways - the most influential people of the new Empire.

“I have not gathered you simply for the sake of sharing a dinner in the wake of our victory. Indeed, I have been wishing to relay to you my plans for the grand future of our Galaxy,” said Palpatine suddenly, his voice gravelly and his gnarly hands reminiscent of claws where they rested against the table cloth.

Tarkin thought he could see a pair of golden eyes gleaming beneath the shrouded darkness of Palpatine’s hood, but chalked it up to a trick of the light. Instead, he focused on the hand stitched embroidery of the Emperor’s burgundy robes. The man had always had an affinity for fancy dress.

“It is clear that you shall provide eyes and ears for me, and I trust you to fulfill your duties towards the Empire, and subsequently to me. However, I’m afraid I must offer you a small surprise.”

“Another, Your Highness?” Tarkin said with an amused smile, and he couldn’t help but feel triumphant when Palpatine let out a pleased cackle in response.

“I’m afraid so, Governor. Surely, you shall all take this little revelation in stride. Are we not in dire need of powerful allies?” he responded, gesturing with one clawed hand towards the Vizier who stood poised by the doorway.

On each side of the hydraulic sliding doors themselves, a royal guard clad in crimson stood at a patient salute. The Emperor’s personal bodyguards, their faces cloaked and hidden from view much like Palpatine himself. Their presence was an odd mixture of reassuring and oppressive, Tarkin had decided. But he saw no reason to fear them, given his own standing with the Emperor. If anything, he benefited from their presence as protectors.

“Will you reveal to us this secret, Your Highness?” asked Charis, her expression curious and incredulous at once.

“My child, have you not been taught the virtue of patience?” was Palpatine’s response; a thinly veiled insult that put her in her place, as she shrank back in shame and lowered her head in an obedient bow.

“Forgive me my insolence, Your Highness,” she offered, apologetic and the Emperor simply shrugged her words off.

“Think nothing of it. You are correct, it appears to me that I have unfairly omitted mentioning this to either of you. Alas, it is time I remedy this arrogance.”

Tarkin noted how the Emperor turned his head briefly, giving the Vizier a barely perceptible nod and the man stepped back. On cue, the guards uncrossed their electro-staffs and parted to the sides. Confusion seemed to overtake most of the party’s faces, as the doorway slid open with ease - only to reveal a man. Clad in black armour with red and silver accents; broad shouldered, tall and visibly disdainful towards his company. He stalked wordlessly up to Palpatine’s right hand side, where he lingered - gloved hands folded in front of his hips, legs wide apart. His eyes were glowing, an amber shade to their irises, a bloodshot sclera. The man’s face was scarred, rugged; and the only visible emotions seemed to be anger and resentment. One single dark blonde curl fell over his creased forehead.

But that wasn’t the oddity. Someone in the company - Tarkin suspected it to be Yularen, judging by the tone - gasped.

Indeed, it was difficult not to recognize the young man by the Emperor's side - the Emperor, whose features had twisted into a toothy grin. The man said nothing, taller than Tarkin remembered him. Something warped and cruel and twisted distorting his rather handsome features into something unrecognizable, all charm vanquished. He was pale, peering in distaste down at the dining party as if they were beneath him. It didn’t sit right with Tarkin, given that they all knew who he was and what his past profession up until about two months ago would have been.

Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had joined them for supper.

“May I introduce to you Lord Vader,” said Palpatine, breaking the eerie silence. “Some of you may believe you are familiar with this man. I assure you, you are mistaken. The man whom you may recall is long gone. Lord Vader has seen the error of his ways, and accepted the Jedi traitors for what they are. He came to my aid during the assassination attempt ordered by master Windu.”

Tarkin listened closely, but he was not the only one who seemed unable to tear his gaze from Skywalk-- Vader’s stern features. He looked so much older than his age, as if he had seen a million lifetimes of suffering pass him by. His hollow eyes seemed haunted, but their inherent glow was more reminiscent of a predator locked in a cage. Simply biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to pounce. Still, he made no move and did not utter a single word.

“Lord Vader has turned out to be, much like you, one of my most trusted advisors. He is my right hand man, and while I have neglected to provide him with an official rank - he outranks every single one of you. It is my belief that only he has the means to do what needs to be done,” the Emperor continued.

Yularen seemed to shift uneasily in his seat, his eyes wide and a blunt disbelief etched into his aging features.

“You wish to speak, Colonel?”

Tarkin heard himself say; wondering if they were the only ones present - apart from the Emperor himself - who had maintained some sort of personal relationship to the man Palpatine had renamed and retooled so viciously.

“No, Governor. I--” he began, but was immediately cut off by Palpatine.

“You are wondering how the man you knew as a Jedi could turn on his own kind, is that not so? You are surprised to see that his loyalty towards the Empire could outweigh his loyalty towards his kin. Am I correct, Colonel?”

Yularen seemed to pause a bit longer than required, but gave a curt nod as he found the voice to speak up.

“Yes, Your Highness. I am merely… surprised, as you put it,” he said as a manner of surrender.

“It is understandable that you would be shocked. Should you like to speak of your own decision, Lord Vader?” the Emperor drawled, his voice menacing and sing-songy at once as he gestured to offer Vader the opportunity to speak.

“No,” the young man simply said, standing so still that his lips barely even seemed to be moving; his gleaming eyes scanning each and every person present before it landed on Tarkin - the only man who’s amusement outweighed the concerns. “I believe my actions will speak for themselves, as will your evident trust in me, my master.”

The voice was a bit deeper and gruffer than Tarkin recalled it - but that could be maturity - but its monotone quality was new. Vader spoke as if the words held no meaning to him, as if whatever he said was pointless and a waste of breath. As if his words were unbefitting of anyone but the Emperor. Yet, at the same time, he was matter of fact and to the point. A quality Tarkin had enjoyed in the past, and one he presumed Yularen had as well.

“Oh, I implore you to amuse this unspoken inquiry, Lord Vader,” Palpatine pressed, and as much as it came off as if being in good faith, it was an obvious demand no loyal servant could ignore.

“As you wish, my master,” Vader simply obeyed, his burning eyes still holding Tarkin’s in a cold, disgruntled stare. “I was the single man to commandeer the troops as they marched on the Jedi temple. I surveyed the situation, and I made sure not a single soul present escaped their fate. I am prepared to do whatever it takes to serve my Emperor, and I will not be frowned upon by the likes of you.”

The last word was delivered with such pure, unbridled loathing that it seemed to lower the temperature of the room by several degrees by proxy of mere intent. Vader nonchalantly folded his arms over his chest, lips drawn into a thin line and the perpetual scowl of his forehead had already begun to carve out fine lines in their wake. Palpatine was still sneering, grimy teeth bared in a ferocious grin.

“As you can see, Lord Vader’s conviction is admirable and undeniable. He has proved himself worthy of my trust, and so, I expect you to follow my example accordingly. I expect you to show him the reverence he requires,” the Emperor concluded, that odd glow to Vader’s eyes mirrored by his as he briefly peered up from beneath his hood - this time, it could be no trick of the light.

“I trust your infallible judgment, Your Highness,” Tarkin finally said, being the first to accept the new norm. “I may not be completely assured of Lord Vader’s motives as of yet, but he shall gain my respect when he has proved himself worthy of it.”

“My friend, you need not fear. However, I understand your concerns, and I have no doubt that you will come around quite soon,” said Palpatine, and while there was malice to the tone, he was also unusually honest and benevolent.

Tarkin suspected that was entirely on him, and their long history as colleagues and friends. He nodded, glancing over at Vader whose eyes regarded him still. Their gaze was arduous, and heavy, and vile - but that seemed to be their natural state, rather than any personal vendetta.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” was Tarkin’s only reply, and he shot a defiant glare back at Vader. “You are much too gracious.”

“Will you cease your repulsive display?” Vader snapped, and while Tarkin at first almost expected Palpatine to defend him; he found that the Emperor seemed humored enough by the obvious insult to allow the man to finish his trail of thought. “The Emperor will offer you no favours based on your fawning. You embarrass yourself, Governor.”

“Now, now, Lord Vader. I believe such childish bickering belongs elsewhere,” he finally shushed, as Vader relented like an obedient school boy fearing punishment. “However, I must agree. It would serve you well to evolve your attempts at flattery into a less… tacky matter.”

That triggered a reaction from Vader, as one corner of his lips twitched briefly upwards in a mocking, superior half smirk. He said nothing, but the triumph in those golden eyes spoke for itself.

“Now, with this out of the way, I wish to return to the matters at hand - but there is one more thing I wish to clarify. Lord Vader will not tolerate any mentions of the man you might recall him to be. He is no longer the naive child of yesterday. There will be a penalty for such insolence - no matter whom it may derive from. Lord Vader is a reinvented man. You shall address him only as such, and by no other name. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” was the singular response - and a brief hint of delight, and perhaps relief, crossed Vader’s scornful face.

“Very good,” said the Emperor with a cackle.

__________

I am not generally a fan of suitless Vader, but this idea came to me and it kinda required that so I went with it for once. Enjoy!

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029582

[dorki-c]

My Guardian Demon |Chapter 1, Part 2: Two Dreams

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X (Reader)

Rating: 16+

A/N: Hey! Hey! Hey! Everybody! I just wanted to let you all know that in the beginning of this series like prologue story arc wise, I will only be highlighting the main points of said story arc.

TW: Suffocation and depiction of injury!

[Masterlist] [<--- Previous| Next --->]

(Song reccomendation for this chapter: Feeling Good by Michael Bublé)

PROMPT QUESTION FOR THIS STORY ARC: Are all demons ‘bad’?

When leaving the school gates with a silent warning that he gave to (y/n), there were a few minor details bothering him when traversing through the empty streets leading home.

At least he was able to walk alone to clear the commotion of todays events.

Sure, Izuku was used to Bakugou’s harassment towards him. For the most part, his mind always filtered out the nasty phrases that were thrown at him for the longest time.

However, what Bakugou had said was completely out of line.

Telling Izuku to commit suicide? Wow, what a great friend he was (if you could even call him that…).

Though the green-haired boy could easily say that about (y/n) as well. Even though its him and his stupid demon against society.

Was he sure that something may happen today? No, absolutely not. Even when turning a corner of the semi-suburban area that was closest to Aldera Junior High school, Izuku isn’t clairvoyant to anything that involves him.

Nope, not at all.

Even when making his way under the dark tunnel (to which he ignores his demon trying to hold him back from going in there, saying something along the lines of “W-w-wait! I don’t want to go down this way…”), Izuku still holds his head up high and ventures down the tunnel.

Like I said before, the green-haired boy isn’t clairvoyant that involves around him.

Plus, that shouldn’t exempt him from being cautious about what might lurk in the shadows.

Until this point, (y/n) only spoke in short sentences, though the only thing that caught Izuku off guard was the shaky utterance of “Izuku…L-Look behind you!”

He regrets looking behind him; A thing manifesting as a large murky green glob, paired with two large eyes and razor layered teeth (that scarcely resembled shark teeth), loomed over the 14 year old’s body.

I-I-It’s a villain!

As soon as Izuku blinked, one moment he was free and scrambling to his feet (fearful of the sludge villain) and the next, his body was trapped in something slimy… The green sludge body dripped with viscous thick globs as it wrapped like a vice around the boy. With a waterfall of pleading cut short and shown through desperate green eyes as Izuku squirmed annoyingly to the villain, there was no chance of escaping because he would be dead “in a minute” tops.

In a vain attempt to free Izuku from the grasps of the villain, the demon’s futile attempts to scratch away at the slime, only resulted in their misty hands to pass through the slime like their hand was non-existent.

Fuck—If a damn hero isn’t going to save Izuku, then it has to be his demon’s duty to do so.

Though it’s quite challenging for (y/n) to grip Izuku’s shoulders and pull him forward, it doesn’t have enough energy to stall for time.

 Was fate cursing (y/n) again? The sun was up high in the sky, yet it always deceived the unguarded and weakest of them all. Didn’t it? If it wasn’t for the saving grace of a frisbee object hitting the villain in the eye, the sludge villain recoiled backwards and (thankfully) released its hostage, where the boy’s limp body met face first into the pavement.

.

.

.

Staying close to Izuku’s unconscious body, (y/n) watched as the pro-hero blatantly invaded their owner’s space and didn’t hear their screeching of something along the words of “DISGUSTING!!!” and “AAAAAAAH BEGONE! BEGONE! BEGONE!!” And the boy wasn’t woken up because of the cheek slaps, it was because of (y/n)’s obnoxious protests of the pro-hero’s cheek slaps.

Let’s not forget the loudest sigh released by the demon when one, Izuku (finally) woke himself up, and two, when that (god forsaken flimsy, annoying, outrageous) hero, was actually the number 1 hero, has retracted his hand from the demon’s owner.

(And (y/n) definitely called the number one hero “a filthy maggot that is followed by an equally filthy contra-” before they were tuned out of Izuku’s ears.)

“Ah! Thought we lost you there!” Announced the hero (to nobody in particular).

This, unfortunately, caused Izuku to pale- where it practically looked like his whole face lost all of its colour, including his eyes- and for (y/n) to think (if they even have thoughts in the first place…) that if there was a camera pointed straight at their face, it would show the most horrifying deadpanned expression on the demon’s non-existent face which would break the camera lens.

Screaming and scampering backwards, Izuku only managed to utter the words “C-C-CAN I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH!!” before seeing his notebook (which was coincidently fish food a couple of minutes ago) signed by the hero and bowing to said hero out of gratefulness, although knowing their owner; (y/n) figured that Izuku would obviously cherish this autograph as a ‘family heirloom’.

(Izuku may or may not have blurted that out in the moment. Oh well. You can’t take everything you say back.)

.

.

.

“I have a question…” Murmured the green haired boy as the hero turned tail to “deliver this villain to the police station!” Sadly, the hero didn’t hear him and was about to leave the boy, where his demon was shaking their head in disappointment- “Why bother asking him?” Whispered (y/n), leaving the faint trace of their empty temperature to scarcely brush his cheek, “The man in front of you is a mere façade of bravery.” - it’s not like Izuku cares about his demon’s opinion.

Even when it’s in situations like this.

(And by situations, I mean when Izuku and his demon are clutching for dear life on the infamous hero’s legs when flying more than fifty feet above the ground.)

Looking below his feet, Izuku is always reminded that great power also has a greater price to it.

And well, All Might would probably agree (if it weren’t for being airborne).

Additionally, why did it look like you were enjoying him scream in fear for his life, when you know that if he dies, you die too.

(Was his demon secretly a sadist?!)

.

.

.

The landing was rocky and rough, but at least his feet managed to stand on their own after a few moments of wobbling and the small rub of your hand against his to beckon him to stand “tall and proud for being uniquely him”.

Glancing towards the hero, (y/n) scoffed in disgust at the retreating soldier whereas Izuku only begged him to “Wait,” continuing along with an unspoken prayer casted off to the sky and “one second!” to remain.

“No!”

It’s typical of a hero to say that word, but situations like this aren’t.

“I don’t have any time.” --- “I have to know!” --- “Why do you bother with him, Izuku?”

The years of quirklessness weren’t new to him. Though he wanted more.

“Even if everyone thinks I’m useless…” Izuku wanted more fulfilment for himself.

“Despite what anybody thinks.” (Y/n) wanted freedom for themself.

“I need to know.” The two of them had dreams.

“Is It possible to become a hero, without a quirk?” Even with a fearless grin, the man before the aftermath was the symbol of peace.

Well to put it simply, the embodiment of peace was secretly a human coat hanger. Now, how would the murky red demon and green haired boy react to said human coat hanger?

Uh…Yeah, they’re both screaming; Izuku was doing it out of horror, (y/n) was doing it out of disgust.

(This is a typical occurrence.)

“WHERE’S ALLMIGHT?!” The worn-down skeleton of a man looked like a couple of popsicle sticks were stuck together with Elmer’s glue as the artist called it a day. Looking left to right, then again, and finally- just for good luck- glanced left and right, as society always said, “Third time is the charm”.

“You! You’re not him!” Izuku profoundly screeched, where in fact both his demon and scrawny adult rolled their eyes. “Izuku, you don’t even have his birth certificate to prove that he—” Though poor (y/n) got cut off by Allmight proclaiming “You know how guys at pools like to suck in their muscles and flex at the same time?” The flaxen haired male then said “I’m kind of like that…” which did nothing to soothe the teenager’s shock.

“What! No! Allmight isn’t some scrawny—old—depressed looking human being!” Oh boy, your owner was as stubborn as an old mule.

“Izuku, stop what your—” Again, (y/n) was cut off by another person, “All Might’s is a hero with a fearless grin who beats every obstacle!”

.

.

.

“Kid, there’s plenty of fear behind a smile. Don’t be fooled.” The rustling of a white shirt caught the attention of the demon and human alike. And what it revealed…well…it was pretty nauseating.

“Pretty gross, isn’t it?”

The merged sickening stitching of skin pulled together in a makeshift attempt to preserve as the hero’s body, at the epicentre of the wound was a thick encircled glob of pink that seemed to allow an abundance of conjoined violet speckles to extend outwards in an attempt to infect the rest of his body.

“I got this in a fight around five years ago.” Relaxing his body, and moving the shirt downwards, the hero continued, “My respiratory system was destroyed, I lost my stomach, and the rest is history.” Even if his shitty joke didn’t lift the depressing tone of reality, all Izuku could do is stand there in shock—maybe a tad bit of horror— however he would’ve never thought that the one and only top hero of Japan had an injury!

(Izuku’s naïve thinking always rubbed his demon the wrong way sometimes.)

“W-wait! Does that mean Toxic Chainsaw gave you this injury!” Chuckling and turning his glance to the side, All Might shook his head. “I’m impressed, you know your stuff- however, that punk couldn’t land a couple hits on me, even if they wanted to.” “Most of the world wouldn’t have known about this fight, regardless of how much you dug through any news articles.”

(And most of the world would’ve never known about the deadly purple miasma growing on their precious hero’s body.) .

.

.

“This job isn’t easy, and to be nice—” At least Izuku would listen to All Might, whereas he ignored you at least 50% of the time, “—I think you would be better off picking a better profession, like a Police officer!”

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

“I mean he is right…” (Y/n) said to Izuku, as they continued their trek back home, with the boy loathful to agree at the red mist’s statement.

“Heroism isn’t easy.” Maybe he should give up his dream?

“You saw how disgusting his wound was.” He could be horribly injuried like All Might if he tries. “It’s practically oozing with miasma.” But Izuku can’t bring himself to give up his dream.

And if Izuku ever asked you to give up your dream of freedom, you would answer back with defiance.

“I know it isn’t easy (y/n).” 

 “I know I could die or get a wound like that.” 

“But I’m not giving up on my dream, if you aren’t going to give up on yours.”

Alas, the gloriously golden sun highlighted the features of the old dusk that was soon turning into their new dawn. 

(And might I say, if society got in their way, they will pay their dues the hard way.)

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @izukubabe​, @sweater-weather-seven, @nyanyabisjjj, @quietlegends, @dragonsdreamoffire​, @candybabey, @honeylavender13​​

CREDITS:

All content and art used within this story belongs to their respective owners. PLAGARISM WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

Art credits: Dorki-C and @glitterfreezed​

[MASTERLIST OF “My Guardian Demon”]​ [MAIN MASTERLIST]

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Lautrec Chain

Original Prompt: How Lautrec landed in that cell in the Undead Parish. We did it! Another chain is complete! A big thanks goes to all the amazing artists and writers who participated in this chain. Please check out their content and blogs.

@acebladespades

“A knight of Carim is nothing without his lady.”

He looked at the man behind the metal bars.

“You knew well what was expected from you.”

He took one step closer to the cell’s door.

“So why are you still alive?”

‐---‐-----------------------------

“I love you.”

His entire world came to a stop. 

Fina’s voice echoed softly in his ear. 

At first, Lautrec believed it was only a trick of his wishful mind. It wasn’t until he felt Fina’s arms resting on his chest, pulling him closer in a tender embrace, that he realized everything was true.

He closed his eyes and gently put his hands on top the golden arms of his cuirass. 

“I love you too, my lady.”

“Then, when the time comes, you won’t hesitate?”

Lautrec couldn’t answer. He knew his silence angered his goddess, but the question had caught him off guard. 

“I see.” Fina lifted her ethereal arms, leaving Lautrec alone with the metallic replicas of his armor. “Your ridiculous honor still means more to you than I, doesn’t it? How foolish I was to think that your love and devotion for me were real.”

“They are real.” Lautrec replied. “You know well you are my everything.”

“Lies. Your claims are nothing but honeyed and vacuous words. They are so typical of you mortals. If you truly loved me, you would have answered me instantly, without any trace of doubt in your voice; yet, all you gave me was silence. That’s not the way a knight should treat his lady, is it?”

“Of course not.” Lautrec smiled in a faint attempt to appease Fina’s temper.

Fina answered by resting her hands on his belly. At first, he mistook the gesture as a sign of forgiveness. His naïve perception changed when Fina dug her nails deep into his flesh and began clawing her way up to his shoulders.

The pain left Lautrec breathless. He fell to his knees, swallowing his screams and forcing himself to endure the punishment in silence. 

Even if Fina’s nails did not make him bleed nor they left visible injuries on his skin, the agony they caused him was real. 

Lautrec only dared to breathe again once Fina was done. The skin where she had touched him felt burning and tender, as if her ethereal nails had been covered in fire.

“If you wouldn’t treat a vulgar wench so rudely, what makes you can act with so much disdain toward your goddess?”

Lautrec didn’t answer. Fina didn’t gave him the chance, for as soon as she was done speaking, she embraced him again from behind.

The melted together, trapped in a blissful moment that Lautrec wished would never end.

“I love you.” 

Lautrec could feel the brush of her breath against his ear even through his helmet. 

“It pains me to hurt you like this, but you left me no choice. Please, my knight, do not make me do this ever again. All I ask from you is an answer.”

Guilt and regret kept Lautrec glued to the floor.

“So, I’ll ask you again.”

The ring on his finger throbbed with an invigorating energy that swiftly got Lautrec back on his feet. He remained still, with only the weight of his armor and the voice of his goddess keeping him grounded in reality.

“When the time comes, will you hesitate?”

“I won’t.” His answer came so promptly that his voice clashed with Fina’s. “Never forget that I am yours.”

“Oh, my knight.” Fina whispered so lowly that Lautrec could barely hear her. “My Lautrec.”

Though she couldn’t see her, Lautrec knew she was smiling.

 Underneath his golden helmet, he smiled too. 

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

“I must say I expected a more courageous performance from you.”

“My lady, it is one thing to fight a horde of Hollows.” Lautrec said once he was done rubbing of the filth off his helmet. “But to confront a ferocious drake, with nothing but a narrow bridge as our battlefield, wouldn’t have been brave, it would have been suicidal.”

“I suppose you are right. At the very least, I’m satisfied you didn’t end up becoming that beast’s dinner. You should be glad that its fire only brushed the surface of your helmet. Had it touched your skin, you’d be cursed with a burn that would never heal nor stop hurting.”

Lautrec had never believed such claims. He had always dismissed them as the exaggerated and baseless statements of antique books and scrolls. 

But he believed Fina.

The memory of the drake and the closeness of its fire formed a hole in his stomach.  

If there hadn’t been a secret passage underneath the bridge, the drake’s fire would have engulfed him whole, either reducing his body to ashes or leaving him covered in agonizing blisters. 

It was seldom that Lautrec felt fear, but there was something dreadful in imagining himself at the absolute mercy of a beast.

Forcedly, he dismissed his panic from his mind. The least he wanted was for Fina to notice how scared he was.

His lady, while gracious and merciful, did not take kindly to displays of weakness of any sort, and she took great pleasure in mocking Lautrec every time he failed to keep his mental barriers up and left his most hidden insecurities exposed.

Though her derision was always heartless and poignant, Lautrec did not resent his goddess for it. He knew Fina didn’t do it out of malice, and had he been in her place, Lautrec would have done the same thing. 

After all, he was a knight of Carim. To be always strong and resilient, especially when in the presence of his lady, was both his duty and his pride. If a lady mocked his knight, it was not to discourage or humiliate him, it was simply to remind him to keep the weakness of his heart in check.

Indomitable, stoic, dutiful, strong and steadfast.

Those were the true qualities of knighthood.

How Lautrec pitied the sentimental Astorans and the savage Catarinians for their deplorable and bastardized perceptions of what a knight was. They were pathetic, weak-minded and pretentious fools without a purpose.

None of them could ever understand what an honor it was for a knight to dedicate his entire existence to a lady. They couldn’t fathom the satisfaction a knight gained from being the eternal protector and the pillar of strength for his fated woman.

And if said woman was none other than Fina—

“Why are you laughing?”

“It’s nothing.” Lautrec said. “I was just thinking of how blessed I am to have you as my lady.”

Fina remained quiet. 

After a small moment, she chuckled.

“You are adorable.”  

She sounded amused. 

Lautrec waited for her to continue. 

When she did, it was only to order him to proceed with his journey. Far from being disappointed, Lautrec was pleased. Though his confession hadn’t given him the answer he’d wanted, he had succeeded in making Fina laugh. 

He had made her happy.

He couldn’t ask for anything more.

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

After getting rid of some meddlesome Hollows and infected rats, Lautrec managed to infiltrate the parish the drake had guarded so fiercely. He felt tempted to rest for a moment in a nearby bonfire, but Fina did not approve.

“I know you are tired.” She told him, so tenderly and motherly that Lautrec felt ashamed for having even thought about taking a rest at all. “But you cannot stop now. We are close to our destination. Once we are in Firelink Shrine, you will rest there for as long as you need. I want you strong and refreshed when your time comes to fulfill your duty.”

The reminder shattered all sense of peace and comfort Lautrec harbored. He raised his mental walls before Fina could sense his distress. This time, his weakness passed unnoticed by his goddess, but Lautrec still felt a boiling hatred for himself and his own feebleness.

Even if he could fool Fina, he couldn’t fool himself.

His rage and frustration fueled his attacks. 

Every Hollow and any other abomination that crossed his way met their ends at the touch of his swords. 

Lautrec fought his way through the chapel, but his streak of invincible prowess was cut short when the armored boar proved to be an enemy he couldn’t defeat.

The beast charged at him and sent him flying towards a wall of stone.  If it hadn’t been for his armor, the violent crash would have broken his spine in half.

“Don’t even think about dying now.” Fina told him as he struggled to get back on his feet. “If you die, do you know how long it would take you to arrive to this place again? Seriously, if I had known you were so frail and easily defeated, I would have allowed you to rest at the bonfire. No wonder that harlot you used to look after is long dead. She was cursed to an early demise the moment you were made her guardian.”

Lautrec couldn’t move. 

He felt as if Fina had dug a dagger into his chest and had ripped out his still beating heart.  He would have remained there, rotting in his own bafflement for all time, if the loud trotting of the boar hadn’t snapped him out of his trance.

This time, Lautrec avoided the charging attack of the armored animal. He lunged himself forwards and landed on his chest.

Then, his instincts took over. His former bloodlust was replaced by an urgent need to survive. 

He ran. 

He did not look back at the enemies he left behind. He continued running, making use of his blades only if he had no other choice. Many of the Hollows he was escaping from tried to follow him, but they were slow and clumsy creatures.

The few that managed to keep up with Lautrec had their heads severed from their shoulders.

To him, his escape was little more than a blurry vision. It was as if his mind had become disconnected from his body and dull to its surroundings. At first, Lautrec tried to convince himself that his numbness was the result of his exhaustion and stress. 

Like always, he failed to believe his own lies. 

He couldn’t think of anything else. He continued pondering on his weakness long after he was safe again, inside the confines of an abandoned church. 

How he had gotten there was only a hazy memory, as was his fight with the Hollow knights that lay dead at his feet.

His ring finger itched as if maggots were devouring it whole.

“See, my knight?” Fina told him. She caressed his chin, tracing a soft line along the bone of his jaw. “See how effective and lethal you are when properly motivated? Be thankful, Lautrec... for it is I who gave you the strength you needed to overcome your weakness. Go on, say it. Say that you are grateful to me for unleashing your best self.”

Fina rested her other hand on his chest, right above his heart.

“Say that you are grateful to me for being the only reason you are still alive.”

Lautrec’s mouth was bitter and parched. For the first time since he had become his loyal knight, he wished Fina would keep quiet and go away, if only for a moment.

All that Lautrec wanted was to be alone with his thoughts, but he was a knight of Carim. His time was not his to employ as he wished, it belonged only to his lady. 

“I’m grateful.” 

“Grateful for what?”

Lautrec clenched his jaw; he almost committed the offense of pulling away from Fina’s touch.

“I’m grateful to you for unleashing my best self.” 

Then, he felt it. He felt how Fina tried to pierce through the barriers of his mind. 

Lautrec strengthened his walls and hugged the arms of his cuirass.

“I’m grateful to you for being the only reason I’m still alive.”

“Oh, my Lautrec.” Fina kissed him in the cheek. The softness of her ethereal lips was followed by the sharpness of her voice. “If only I could believe you.”

Beads of cold sweat formed in Lautrec’s forehead. He didn’t know what scared him most, Fina’s anger or how easily she had seen through his façade. 

He remained trapped together with his goddess in a cold uncertainty that felt eternal.

“You’ve got nothing to fear, my knight.” Fina said, “As long as do as I tell you, you won’t be giving me reasons to forsake you. As long as you forget about that ridiculous knightly pride of yours, killing that fire keeper will feel as natural as the beating of your heart. The act will be quick, peaceful and pleasant. She will be grateful to you for freeing her from her cursed fate. She will enjoy it, and so will you, if you just let go of your past and embrace your present.”

Lautrec’s lips quivered.

“You are Undead.” Fina continued, brushing away the only tear that escaped from his eyes. “You’ve got no lady to satisfy other than me. The teachings of your homeland have no meaning in Lordran. I am your everything; you are my knight.”

“I am.” Lautrec muttered. He was overwhelmed. Not even the darkest piece of Humanity could have granted him as much peace and comfort as Fina did.

“Then prove it to me now.” Fina’s tone changed. It remained gentle, but now her words sounded like orders. “Over there, at the altar. Do you see it?”

He did.

There it was, at the other side of the church, carved in stone and untouched by time. Behind it, he could see the statue of a woman.

“Not just any woman.” Fina corrected him with a scoff. “It’s me. Approach it, my knight.”

Lautrec obeyed. He felt like almost like a child. 

The silly excitement he felt slowly vanished the closer the got to the altar, and it disappeared completely the moment his eyes understood what the strange figure laying on the altar’s surface really was.

Lautrec was used to the sight of corpses. He had been familiar with death since the time when he had been too young to become a page.

However, as unfazed as he remained by the decrepit state of the corpse before him, Lautrec trembled at the sight of the glowing orb floating just above the body’s chest.

“What a shame.” Fina said, “I would have preferred her to be alive so you could kill her, but it seems someone else already did the deed for you. You must be rather disappointed.”

“But I thought,” Lautrec swallowed before he could continue, “I thought the fire keeper would be at Firelink Shrine, locked for all eternity inside a cave, just like you told me.”

“Don’t be stupid, my knight. This fire keeper is not the same you will murder. This must be the tribute some deluded fool left here for me in a desperate attempt to earn my favor. Whoever he may be, the only thing he’s gained is my disdain. Does he honestly believe I would accept the offerings and advances of every man that comes by, as if I were a common strumpet?  The gall! Does he not know that Fina handpicks her knights and followers? Does he note care? Such offense will not go unpunished! If he ever dares to come back, you will fight him, and you will kill him.”

“I will.” Lautrec promised, wishing that the offender would return and give him an excuse to step away from the altar, but no one came.

“Regardless,” Fina continued once the worst of her flaring temper had passed, “it would be a waste to refuse this soul. I will not accept the offering of a stranger, but if my knight was to offer it to me instead, everything would be different.”

There was no need for Fina to instruct him further. 

Somehow, Lautrec managed to lift his arms. They felt heavy, as if they were made of stone. It took as much effort to get them closer to the corpse as keeping the barriers of his mind up did.

Yet, he could Fina trying to tear down his defenses and reach the deepest part of his mind. She wanted to see it.

She wanted to make sure that his heart was free of all regret and doubt.

Why shouldn’t it be?

Lautrec was staggered by the question as he asked it to himself.

To kill a fire keeper was the greatest sin a Carim knight could ever commit. It was an unforgiveable offense, a taint on his soul not even death could remove.

But he was not responsible for the death of this fire keeper. He had not taken her life; he had only found her rotting corpse on his goddess’ altar. 

He had done nothing wrong. 

He was following his lady’s commands.

So truly, he was fulfilling his duty as her knight. 

He was just—

“Take it.” Fina said in his ear. It wasn’t until then that Lautrec realized his hands had remained stuck in the same position for a while. His armored fingers were so close to the fire keeper’s soul that its gentle warmth could be felt through his gauntlets. “Do it.”

“I will.” Lautrec smiled. His pulse throbbed intensely in his temples. “I am yours, remember? I love you, Fina.”

“Shut up and take it!”

That he would. 

His rebellious hands had just started to listen to his commands when the blade of a rapier emerged from his chest. His blood covered the weapon, concealing the silver of the metal underneath a crimson layer.

Lautrec let out a soft gasp. It was the only sound his pierced lung could muster. 

Fina did scream on his mind; more than a mournful lament, her cry resembled a roar. She cursed the stranger for spilling the blood of her servant.

She damned him for damaging that which belonged to her.

The stranger, if he could hear her, ignored the goddess with sinful indifference. Instead, he focused all his attention on Lautrec. 

The stranger warped an arm around Lautrec’s neck and pulled him closer to him, further impaling him with the blade of the rapier. The weapon cut through the plates of Lautrec’s armor as easily as it cut through his flesh and bones.

“I witnessed your sin.”  The stranger said as he rested his chin on Lautrec’s shoulder.  “And it shall not go unpunished.”

“Kill him! Don’t you dare die without putting up a fight!” Fina exclaimed. Her voice resonated so loudly in his ears that Lautrec was surprised they didn’t start to bleed. “Kill this bastard, you useless coward! What kind of man are you? Are you even a real knight? Don’t you dare die, Lautrec. I will never forgive you if you fail me this way. If you die, I will forsake you and leave you to rot in this cursed land. I have no need nor use for weak men.”

The stranger removed the rapier from Lautrec’s body. His movements were quick, but they were not gentle.

Lautrec swallowed his pain and blood and tried to turn around. He would do as Fina said. He would not die in such a shameful way.

If a knight of Carim was meant to die, he had to meet death in the heat of battle. To perish under any other circumstances was the greatest humiliation imaginable. 

“My lady,” Lautrec stuttered as he tightened his grip on his swords.

Just when he was turning on his heels, the stranger grabbed him by his helmet and violently pulled him down to the floor.

He then grabbed Lautrec’s arm and pulled it behind his back until he let go the sword. The stranger kept pulling, almost snapping Lautrec’s arm from his shoulder.

“Useless.” Fina spat at Lautrec. Her voice was venom, and it spread across his soul like a blight. “Absolutely useless. What a pitiable excuse for a man, what a mockery of a knight you turned out to be.”

The stranger said something. His voice overlapped with Fina’s.

Lautrec tried to reach out for his goddess, but he had already sunk too deep into the darkness of death. His life was leaking away from him, taking with it all of his thoughts and his strength.

Soon, all that remained inside him was exhaustion and the phantom of his own despair.

Lautrec heard a distant, chilling laughter.

It was the last thing he perceived before death claimed him.

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

He got no response from the knight.

Oswald waited, but it was in vain.

He knew the knight was awake and could hear him. Oswald had defeated him; then, he had healed his injuries by forcingly feeding him Estus. 

Sinners like the knight did not deserve to be granted the peacefulness of death so easily. Death, contrary to what most people believed, was not a punishment or a sentence. To those with a clean conscience and an unburdened heart, death was a well-deserved rest. 

Yet, even if the knight had not sinned, to let him die would be an unnecessary waste of time. He was Undead, and for all Undead, death no longer had the same meaning than for those who remained free from the curse.

“You should have taken your own life the moment you lost your lady. That’s what was expected from you, or are you not a true knight of Carim?” 

Oswald said. The knight refused to acknowledge him, but Oswald did not care. 

“That fact you still exist when you’ve got no lady to protect is a sin in itself. How unfortunate that the Undead curse prevents you from fulfilling this last duty... or perhaps luck has nothing to do with this matter, and you sought a way to curse yourself in a pathetic attempt to preserve your life?”

Oswald listened as the echo of his own laughter spread across the church. The knight of the golden armor, however, remained quiet and indifferent. 

He had his chin glued to his chest. His hands were caressing the golden arms of his cuirass.

So, he was one of them.

Oswald’s smile almost hesitated, but he had long learned that to pour any amount of pity into those lost, deluded men was useless.

It was seldom that they broke free from their delusions, and most of them never tried at all. They became drunk on the promises of eternal love of the vainest of goddesses. 

They willingly fell for her empty words. 

Fina’s power over them was only as strong as the power of their own wills. 

It was no wonder she always picked the most broken and feeble of knights.

“Your failure to keep your former lady alive, whoever she was, is an unforgivable sin.” Oswald said. He took a step back from the cell. He joined his hands behind his back. “But that’s not the reason I am punishing you. Whatever sins and mistakes your committed back in Carim are none of my concern, but those you commit her in Lordran are my domain. And I saw what you did, so don’t even try to deny it. At this point, accepting your fault is the least you could do to salvage what little honor remains in your rotten heart.”

The knight did react to this. He lifted his head and looked at Oswald.

Oswald couldn’t see his eyes, hidden behind his golden helmet as they were, but he could almost feel the ice-cold glare of the knight.

“I did not kill her.”  He said. 

There was anger in his voice, but also a deep emptiness. He would go Hollow soon.

Oswald smiled.

“Perhaps you didn’t.” He conceded. “I have no proof, so I cannot thrust the weight of this sin upon you; but I saw what you did. I saw how you tried to take her soul for yourself.”

Oswald expected the knight to say something in return. He was prepared to counter his excuses and tear apart his arguments, but the knight said nothing.

His silence was all Oswald needed to know he had condemned a guilty, dangerous man.

“If you were willing to commit such a vile act, what will stop you from killing a fire keeper yourself the next chance you get?  Certainly not your conscience, even less your pride as a knight. That’s why you shall never leave this cell. You will remain here until you go Hollow.”

Oswald gave one last look to the disgraced knight before turning his back on him. 

“And then I will kill you. But remember this, knight, your death is not your punishment.”

He told him as he walked toward the stairs that led to the church’s roof.

“It is merely the fate you chose for yourself.”

Oswald laughed again. 

He didn’t so out of mockery or cruelty, but out of amusement.

Oh, Fina’s so-called devoted followers.

They would have been pitiable if they weren’t so pathetic in the first place.

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

Fina had forsaken him.

The bitter solitude of her absence had almost driven Lautrec to his Hollowing, just like the death of his first lady had come close to sink him into madness.

But he had endured, though not because he was strong. 

If he had been allowed to keep his sanity after losing everything, it was because he had never lost his faith.

Faith that he could make amends and regain the love of his goddess.

A faith that became invigorated after some poor idiot freed him for his cell.

A faith that was about to be cemented now that the second bell had tolled. 

It was time.

He had delayed the act long enough.

It will be quick.

Lautrec thought as he grabbed the fire keeper by the neck through the barriers of her cell. She showed no emotion in her blue Astoran eyes.

It is peaceful.

Her stoic semblance not once faltered, not even as Lautrec slit her belly with a long slash of his curved sword.

It was pleasant.

Lautrec did not trust this last thought, but when his eyes meet with the agonizing and defying stare of the moribund fire keeper, he could see a glimmer of happiness in her.

It was then Lautrec knew that Fina had been right all along.

The gaze the fire keeper was giving him was not one of hatred or resentment, but of gratefulness. In the last moments of her miserable life, she was thanking him in silence. 

She was grateful to him for freeing her from her everlasting torment.

She was enjoying the moment just as much as Lautrec was.

“You are welcome.”

Lautrec told the fire keeper before letting go of her fading corpse. He forgot about her as soon as her neck left his hand.

In his other hand, floating above his blood-soaked palm, there was her soul.

I did it, Fina. Can you see me? 

Lautrec held the essence close to his chest. His mind, devoid of all barriers now that he had freed himself from his past fears and insecurities, was touched by the soft whisper of a goddess only he could hear.

“I do.”

Fina answered. For the first time since his defeat at the hands of the pardoner, Lautrec felt safe in the tender embrace of his one and only lady.

“My knight.”

Lautrec smiled. 

He felt whole.

@pan-de-torao

@dbzespio

Lautrec leaned heavily on his knees, gazing deeply into the bonfire and its dancing flames. He sighed softly as his wounds began to heal up, and the strength returned to his body.

Yes, this bonfire had served him well. But now, he felt it was time to move on.

His posture still stooped forward, he turned his eyes upward to behold the firekeeper. 

Much like his, her helm hid her face from view, and so he could not tell where exactly her gaze was directed. She was rested against the wall, her body still with a certain poise, one that indicated she was not one to be trifled with. She could hop out of that position and into a battle stance at once, and all with the ease of a well-trained warrior; he could tell. 

He rose to his feet with a slight grunt of effort. 

No, it would not be worth the trouble. He already had one prize; he didn’t need more.

~~ 

Those damned archers…

Lautrec nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of a new bonfire. He practically dragged himself to sit before it, finally allowing his gaping wounds to heal once again. 

“Oh! There you are!”

Lautrec startled, snapping his head towards the voice. 

But it was only a fellow knight, seated there on the floor nearby, just far enough to still be warmed by the flames. The crest on his chest held no significance; the fool had likely painted it on himself in a fit of self-grandeur, or perhaps, sheer lunacy. He also appeared to be adorned with a feather or two and... was that grass? A lunatic indeed.

Lautrec faintly recognized him; he had likely summoned the fool to assist him in battle at one point or another. He merely grunted a sort of half-acknowledgement of the knight’s words and returned his gaze to the bonfire.

The knight politely waited a few moments before speaking again. He leaned forward slightly, his voice friendly. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately. Smooth summoning out there?”  

Lautrec slowly turned to face him again, wishing that his glower could melt through his helm. 

“Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me,” the knight continued. “I must say: you’ve left me with quite an impression. I would relish a chance to assist you.”

Was that fondness in his voice? Truly a fool, this man was. 

Despite this, a modicum of camaraderie swelled a little within Lautrec’s chest. Fool though he was, this man was still an undead knight, trapped within this godsforsaken realm, no doubt charged with a quest similar to his own. He felt he owed the knight a warning, at the very least.

“Our futures are murky,” he finally told him, turning back to the fire. “Let’s not be too friendly now.”

“Nonsense,” the man proclaimed, the feather atop his helm swaying in place as he fervently shook his head. “You and I are bound together in not one, but two bouts of jolly cooperation!

“Whatever your quest, my good knight,” he continued, his fist held up in a firm resolve, “I feel certain you will see it through.”

“I already have.” Lautrec rose and readied himself to leave. “Now it is nothing more than a simple matter of delivery.”

~~

Breathing heavily, Lautrec willed himself forward before collapsing before the fire. 

That was too close. 

His eyes darted around wildly before settling upon the summon signs around him. 

So there it was. His answer to the ever-constant invasions…

~~

Lautrec and his posse had just cleared the hall when yet another invader formed before them. She was but a simple cleric, but her eyes smoldered with barely suppressed rage as she rose from the haze upon ground. 

“Oh, look! Another one,” Lautrec sneered, waving the others to attention. “How many times must these lambs rush to slaughter? Ah well… Let’s get it over with!”

Lautrec charged forward, his summoned warrior following in his wake. Just behind them, his sage readied his wand. 

The cleric immediately raised her shield, a flimsy thing, really, and certainly no match for his blades. It managed to reduce the impact of the sage’s magic bolts, but now, Lautrec was right before her. He reared back before striking her a solid blow, his curved shotel easily reaching around her paltry shield. The shield blocked his comrade’s spear, but the woman now looked rather breathless. 

“‘Tis a terrible pity,” Lautrec mused, trading his left shotel for a knife as he watched the invading cleric scramble to return her shield to her back. “Like a... moth, flittering towards a flame.

“You fellows… No? Don’t you agree?” He turned back towards his sage and briefly extended his arm towards his warrior, allowing the cleric a moment to ready herself for an attack of her own. 

As if she’d stand a chance. 

He chuckled darkly, watching as she lifted her talisman. She cast Force, which sent the spearman to the ground and the sage’s next magical projectile soaring back to strike him in the face. 

Lautrec himself stumbled before recklessly charging her again. If his companions weren’t able to strike her, it appeared he’d have to finish the job himself. 

She rolled away when he slashed at her with his shotel before charging at him with a knife that he hadn’t noticed she had been holding. He caught it with his own, slashing at her again with his free arm. 

Vulnerable as she was, and with no armor to boot, the cleric staggered from the devastating blow. Lautrec kicked her away, laughing callously yet again. The sage’s magical bolts peppered her several times as she struggled to recover. In the meantime, Lautrec traded his parrying knife for his second shotel, all the while watching her intently. 

Finally she knelt with talisman in hand. He recognized the gesture immediately as one of self-healing. “Oh no, you don’t…” 

With that said, he lashed out with dual strikes and chuckled as her form disintegrated into smoky mists. He helped himself to the humanities and souls she left behind before turning back to his entourage. “Well, well. I thought you were wiser… but I thought wrong.”

His summoned warrior lunged at her now formless remains with his spear. Poor fellow was a bit slow to grasp the reality of the situation. Finally he recognized she was gone and returned to Lautrec’s side. 

“Well, that was rather simple,” he scoffed and scanned the area. He beheld a glowing summon sign near the stairwell and went to examine it further. 

Ah, if it wasn’t the fool himself. 

Lautrec recalled the spearman, and summoned the warrior of sunlight. He arose with his arms in the air in a sun salute before facing Lautrec with a nod. Thankfully, he didn’t talk as much while in a summoned state.

Lautrec led them down the hall and pushed open the giant, double doors. He would have thought the room beyond empty, until he finally took note of a giant, stocky figure at the other end of the area. For a moment, they were so still Lautrec wasn’t quite certain whether they were human or statue. Either way, they wielded a hammer, nearly as large as themself.

Before Lautrec or the others could move in to have a closer look, another figure slowly and gracefully made their way to one of the balconies above. A single hand rested gently upon the railing as the knight, clad in incredibly intricate armor, gazed down at all of them. Within moments, the knight leapt down to stand before them, poised for battle. 

The one wielding a hammer hefted it upon his shoulder, moving the giant weapon with such an ease that it looked as if it were made of feathers. So then apparently this ‘statue’ could move after all.  

Lautrec faintly recognized the pair of warriors; felt certain that he had found their likenesses etched in marble somewhere within the city of Anor Londo. But it hardly mattered; if they stood in his path, they would be eliminated, all for the glory of the goddess.

The knight charged forward, his spear at the ready. Lautrec raced to meet him, easily moving off to the side to avoid the incoming spear. However gifted he may be, this spearman was no different from all others; he favored his right. All Lautrec needed to do was be careful to avoid that side and attack from the left, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Meanwhile, Solaire focused his efforts on the giant. He would avoid the swing of his hammer with well-timed rolls and slash away with his sword while the giant struggled to reorient himself. He’d have to sprint away whenever his opponent decided to charge him, his hammer practically transformed into a whirlwind. And once his back was turned, Solaire would toss over a few lightning bolts in response.    

Meanwhile, Lautrec’s summoned sage would hurl magic bolts at the giant. He was a large, and therefore, easy target, after all. And with both Lautrec and Solaire keeping their opponents busy, the sage didn’t have much to worry about, so long as he kept himself far from the fray.

Before long, the giant man crumpled to the ground and took his last breath. Ornstein leaped away from Lautrec to stand at his side. He rested a hand against his fallen comrade’s body with a clearly remorseful weight to the action, despite how simple it was. 

But that simple gesture granted the knight a sudden surge in power. His very size surged until he grew to twice his height and weight. His spear sizzled with electricity as he held it aloft, reinvigorated to fight anew. 

“By the goddess!” Lautrec exclaimed as the spearman lunged at him. He rushed away; this time, it was much more difficult to avoid the weapon, given it too had increased in size. 

Solaire took the moment to lob a spear of lightning at the dragonslayer. However, it hardly had any effect.

The sage had prepared a more powerful spell, and this time, several magical bolts struck Ornstein at once. He momentarily flinched before rushing forward to attack the sage.

Lautrec and Solaire used the opportunity to move in close, slashing away at Ornstein’s legs. In response, the knight readied a lighting strike, charging up his spear with crackling electricity. Lautrec just barely managed to avoid being impaled, but his body shuddered as the remnants of lightning burned at his skin. He rolled away and yanked up his helm to chug a flask of Estus.

Meanwhile, Ornstein leapt high into the air, his body practically shining with excess electricity. Both Solaire and Lautrec were knocked off their feet as the dragonslayer crashed back down to the ground, sparks flying nearly everywhere. Even the sage, far from the action, staggered from the impact. 

Lautrec frantically rolled until he was far away, ripping back his helm to down not one, but two flasks of Estus. This wasn’t going to be an easy battle.  

But once he had his fill of Estus, he clenched his fists tightly around his shotels. He would not falter. For, after all, he had the favor of the goddess.

In the meantime, Solaire hurried to his feet and rushed in to attack Ornstein’s legs once again, determined to give Lautrec the time he needed to recover. He narrowly avoided another lunge; his body involuntarily shuddering from the excess electricity. How he longed to drink but a drop of Estus… But he had no time for that.

Meanwhile the sage had quickly gathered his wits and hurled magical bolts at the dragonslayer. He was too distracted with Solaire to fight back, so the mage continued his assault without interruption. 

Reinvigorated, Lautrec moved in to assist Solaire. Together the two kept slashing away at Ornstein’s feet, all while avoiding his near-constant barrage of lightning laden lunges. Ornstein was just about to recharge his spear when the sage dealt him one blow too many, and the mighty dragonslayer finally fell. 

Muscles buzzing with excess energy and skin burning from electrical buildup, Lautrec heaved hungry breaths of air as he watched the knight succumb to darkness. A glittering light was left behind, along with several other treasures.   

But before he could go to retrieve them, the foolish knight hurried to stand before him. He jovially clapped Lautrec’s shoulder until he finally lifted his helm to look him in the face. 

“A truly excellent bout of jolly cooperation, my good friend!” Solaire declared, no doubt a hearty grin beneath that helm. “Here; please take this!”

Lautrec already knew what the man was about to give him, and he didn’t want it. 

Regardless, Solaire found his hand and pressed a warm medal into it. Lautrec could feel the warmth even though the thickness of his armor; the object was indeed strange. But he refused to close his fingers, so the medal eventually fell to the ground once the golden sunlight warrior finally vanished into thin air. Lautrec didn’t bother to give the thing even the slightest of second glances. He simply didn’t need it.

Instead he moved in to receive his prizes. A gluttony of souls, along with Ornstein’s own, and a ring, a lion engraved upon it. He doubted he would find much use for it. Regardless, he tucked it away along with the rest. 

He wandered about the area for a while before coming upon a moving platform. He took it to find access to the balconies above, and to his great relief, a bonfire laid in wait. He took a rest there, allowing his wounds and aching body to heal.

Soon enough, he rose to his feet and made his way to the double doors before him. What laid behind them took his breath away.

There, her beautiful body draped across a plush chaise, laid the goddess Fina. The room was warm; soft light that emanated from the goddess herself wrapped the area in a gentle glow.

“Fina…” Lautrec breathed, immediately dropping down to one knee. 

Fina smiled and extended a gentle hand towards him. “Thou hast journey’d far, and overcome much, chosen Undead. Come hither, child…”

Lautrec blinked. ‘Chosen undead?’ ‘Child?’ 

Did she not see him?

He cleared his throat. “Fina, my beloved… It is I, Lautrec the Embraced. And I have for you a gift...” He procured the firekeeper’s soul and held it aloft.

She beckoned to him again. “Come hither…”

“As you wish…” Lautrec humbly rose, moved to stand just before her, and knelt down, all while holding out his treasure for her to take.

“O chosen Undead,” she continued, her voice soft. “I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight…”

 She had more to say, but Lautrec immediately stopped listening. Rage boiled up within his gut and spread throughout his body as he clenched his teeth.

The blasphemous wench! How dare she pose as the everlasting goddess!

Snarling, Lautrec ripped his shotel from its sheath and slashed the imposter, causing the unsuspecting woman to scream out. But his steel did not taste flesh; rather, he tore through naught but haze. 

The woman was but a mirage. A trick of his mind. 

Just as suddenly as the woman disappeared, the room went dark. It was cold here. 

Lautrec looked about wildly, but he was alone, left with nothing but a soft, almost fading light from the firekeeper’s soul. He dropped his shotel, and it clattered to the ground, louder than ever now. 

Was Fina… testing him?

He clenched his fist. No, it was that woman’s fault. She was a charlatan, a fake. Nothing was worse than impersonating a goddess. And it wasn’t as if he had ever seen a being as wondrous as the goddess herself in person before. How could he have known? 

Yes... yes. He was not to blame here. No, not at all.

In that moment, the silence was broken. 

I witnessed your sin, and it shall not go unpunished. 

Lautrec froze. Too afraid to turn and face the voice. 

Thou shalt perish in the twilight of Anor Londo.

No, this wasn’t happening. Everything he had done… it was all for Fina. 

He couldn’t have…

Slight footsteps from behind compelled him to whirl around. A blue phantom stood within the doorway; she was dressed in light armor, not unlike the painting guardians he had encountered shortly after he had entered Anor Londo. And just like those warriors, she was wielding two short blades. 

He would have bent to retrieve his shotel, but his limbs felt heavy, worn. And before his mind could have the opportunity to overpower his fading will, the warrior rushed forward, her blade plunging into his abdomen. She twisted the weapon, and he shuddered, the pain overtaking all of his senses. She kicked him to remove her blade, and his body easily crumpled to the ground. 

He laid there in agony, coughing up blood and wondering why she hadn’t yet finished him off. Once he finally opened his eyes, he saw her, tenderly holding the firekeeper’s soul. He must have dropped it at some point, or maybe she had taken it from his hand; he could hardly tell, much less remember, at this point. All he knew was that it was ill-gotten. That he had soiled Fina’s good name in taking it.

Before long, his helm was roughly ripped off of him. “This is for Anastacia of Astora,” the warrior stated, her voice cold. 

With that said, she lopped off his ear. “The Dark Sun will be pleased.” Her voice was soft now, devoid of the malice with which she spoke earlier. 

He watched her ready a black separation crystal. “You will not kill me?” he finally managed to ask.

“Killing you would only end your suffering.” She stepped on the wound in his gut and pressed down, forcing him to cry out yet again. “And my wish for you is to wallow in it.”

She finally backed away and activated her crystal, returning to her realm awash in shining light.

Lautrec, bloodied and broken, finally mustered the strength to drag himself out of the room and towards the bonfire beyond. 

But it was not lit.

He coughed again, blood spattering across the marbled floor. His vision blurred; the blood loss certainly wasn’t helping matters.

He crawled onwards, knowing full well he was too far gone to reach another bonfire. But he knew he must try. For Fina’s sake.

Fina…

He had failed her. 

No…! He would never…!

His fingers trembled as he continued to drag himself forward. Onwards.

Everything, yes, everything he had done, all of it was for Fina. For her glory. For his honor. For their love.

But…

Lautrec faltered and hissed. The pain was too great.

Fina was a magnificent, benevolent goddess. Death in her name would only serve to sully her beauty, her magnanimity. She would never allow it.

But the prize.

The endless souls… They would preserve her beauty forever; grant her with eternal youth.

Lautrec’s fingers hit into a wall. He could barely see straight; his body felt cold. He wasn’t certain how much longer he would last.

He pulled himself into a seated position, his back against the wall. He breathed deeply, as best as his tired lungs would allow. 

The ends do not justify the means.

He had failed his goddess, his love, by dishonoring her name. She would never accept any gifts, any love from a man drenched in sin. He knew this now.

He would perish within the twilight of Anor Londo.

As his goddess ordained. 

@lefrustemangaka

@taroris​

Silence always followed death. It was mandatory, as only death could rip things from this world with such coldness and leave a grieving void where the poor soul exhaled its last breath. Once the Shrine’s fire faded, not even the breeze dared to break the deathly quietness.

It took a while for Anastacia’s grasp around the metal rod to vanish; her delicate face contracted in a somewhat painful expression yet with relief under her lifeless blue eyes. Blue eyes which also stared at Lautrec with reproach; reproach because it wasn’t yet her time to leave, because she was supposed to die after fulfilling her role as Firekeeper, not in the hands of a knight who kept her company day after day until turning his blade against her.

With a swift measured move of hand, Lautrec cleaned the blood from his shotel. It was splattered on the floor in front of the rusty cell, which seemed to have been built in a rush by non-expert hands. Her frame paled in the light, not even a murmur was produced by the vanishment process. Then, the delicate soul of Anastacia jingled where her place has been for, perhaps, an eternity; tiny humanities dancing around the pure white light, happy, unbothered by the grim turn of events.

Lautrec picked them up and gave a look at the light and the darkness. Both antagonists floated pleasantly in his hand; darkness around light, light around darkness. The tendrils of Anastacia’s soul seemed to caress the humanities, as a mother would do to their kids. The humanities seemed to love the attention as they appeared to jump and shake their small bodies pleased. The somewhat peace these poor vestiges of a past life enjoyed was finally disrupted, for the image of the very safety and home meant nothing to Lautrec, whose real home was in the arms of a Goddess and the safety was only reached after the brief moments of offering the humanities he separated from Anastacia and placed inside his travel bag.

The Firekeepers' soul seemed to shiver when the mourning was over and the wind blew in the shrine, caressing its tendrils and letting it know of the newfound loneliness.

Truth be told, the reaction of the white soul was rather peculiar. With a tilt of his head, Lautrec observed how it reacted to its surroundings. How it seemed to know somehow that something was off. Maybe the pureness of the Firekeepers’ souls was the one to blame; souls remaining safe of the hunger that leads most Undeads, unbothered by the filthiness of the world that has no room for these same souls unless entrusted with the task to tend fire.

Lautrec scoffed. He was no innocent human, that was as true as the sky was blue. On top of that, he was hungry; hungry to please her Lady, hungry to give her everything she wished for. Staring at the soul wouldn’t do him any good. Then, almost in a whisper, a kind voice spoke to him. It spoke to him about time, about love, about forgiveness. For Lautrec, there was only one thing more absolute than death, and that was her Goddess’s words. He knew what he had to do next: complete his duty in the so-called city of Gods, but which was no home for his Lady. At least, not anymore.

The knight left the Shire, wherein the few beings remaining there barely noticed his leave. He, then, resumed his travel; going through the cathedral, through the burg, through the fortress made to break one’s soul but merely scratched his for the loving voice gave him the strength needed to prevail and move forward. It was such the faith in his Lady’s words that he even travelled through air (carried by nasty ugly demons) to arrive at his destination.

With utmost care, Lautrec inspectioned the place until finding the bonfire and, with the bonfire, the Firekeeper. He felt the arms around his torso hug him even in a more affectionate way, and the joy which washed over his body was almost overwhelming. Yet, he shouldn’t be carried away by those feelings, or he could end up imprisoned again, when the end of his task was within the reach of his fingertips.

When the Firekepeer spoke, Anastacia’s Soul shaked faintly in his travel bag.

“Mmh… You are a rare visitor,” she said once he walked down the stairs. In her voice, there was a hit of something Lautrec couldn’t place right away. “Welcome to the lost city of Anor Londo. If you seek Lord Gwyn’s old keep, exit here and head straight yonder. If you-”

“I will, for now, allow myself to take a rest,” Lautrec interrupted her.

It had been quite a while since he had been around a talkative Firekeeper. Instead, he had grown so comfortable with the silence around Anastacia that he had forgotten how annoying these women can be sometimes; with their gibberish and duties.

“Very well. After all, that is what the bonfire is for,” she muttered, with annoyance and that something which was still difficult to place in her voice.

Lautrec sat down near the fire. His tired legs sighed with the brief break they were given while his hands quickling unfastened the travel bag around his waist.

The moment to observe her came when he pretended to take care of his equipment, of his shotels and armour. It stood out that Firekeeper was nothing like the previous ones he had encountered before; all delicate ladies, sometimes blinded, sometimes too oblivious of the world around her. This woman, instead, looked like a warrior, and it was not because of the pretentious armour befitting of an even more pretentious place like Anor Londo. No. It was because of the aura around her, of the way she folded her arms, the posture she kept against the wall, the way tried to appear like she was self-absorbed but her eyes felt like daggers poking his skin.

It finally clicked. That something hard to place in her voice: mistrust. This woman was, by all means, different from the previous Firekeepers who always thought he was a well-meaning knight searching for their help and fire. This woman was dangerous, because mistrust made you be aware of dangers, of betrayal, and made offering harder. Lautred needed to find help, and by help it meant cannon fodder. For that reason he got up and announced it was time to continue his journey. The knight, then, adventured himself even further in the city, further into the high building.

His shotel cut through multiple enemies dressed in white clothes and who threw daggers. He got no reward from it and the voice whispering kind words suddenly started to rush him to go back to the Firekeeper’s place. Oh, how much he wished to speak with his Lady at that moment, to hold her delicate hands and promise her that she would have the world if only she gave him a moment to do what had to be done to cut the Firekeeper’s throat.

His steps lead him to a cathedral, wide, open, and filled with multiple enemies. Even if it cost him some estus, Lautrec prevailed and the colossals figures and Silver Knights ended up falling to his blade. When inside there was no more than silence (a silence aware of the knight’s intentions and which followed him as it followed death), Lautrec started to search for marks. For marks of unwaries who would have no other choice but to help him fulfill his role; perhaps serving as bait.

It didn’t take him long to come across a well-known yellow sign. Holding back a scoff turned out to be impossible for a solid second, as there was no point in summoning that crazy fool. Lautrec kept searching, avoiding the signs of Warriors of Sunlight as if they were infected with the plague. Then, finally, after walking up and down the hallway, he located it: two white summoning signs. A sorcerer and a spearman. That would serve him well. Lautrec touched the first white light, with black letters signaling a name that he couldn’t care less, before touching the second one. Two men appeared in front of him and spoke words of greeting, too cheerfully for his liking. He barely muttered some words to content them for there were more pressing matters to attend.

After the pointless greeting was over, the three of them walked to the entry, to the closed massive doors. With a sigh, Lautrec started to look for the mechanism to open them, locating a giant lever attached to some big gears.

Upon touching the handle, though, he felt it. The soft rumbling of worlds clashing together. His furrow deepened under his helmet and walked back to his comrades who were looking at their surroundings. Lautrec didn’t feel like playing the mouse and cat game at that moment, so, when the other two men looked at him wondering about his plan, he simply ordered them to wait until the dark phantom appeared.

And the phantom did so. After a closer look at the armour, an amused hum left his lips. The Chosen Undead straightened their back and when their gaze fell on the knight and his cannon fodder, they stormed towards them, sword raised in wrath. The same wrath that filled their voice when they spoke.

“Lautred, you bastard! How dare you kill her?! How dare you kill Anastacia?!”

The knight waited (hearing reassuring words of his Lady that ensured him the victory) for the Chosen Undead to run towards them and for his summonings to defend him, as it was a mandatory rule between the fool Undeads.

“Well, look at you,” he began, dragging out his shotel. “I thought you were wiser, but I thought wrong!”

@thefatladysang​

[ayuuria]

Yashahime Translation: Animage December 2020 Issue (Part 1)

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This month’s Animage article was quite loaded with 6 pages of content. It consisted of an illustration with Kohaku and Hisui (2 pages), an interview with Kimura Ryōhei and Urao Takehiro (2 pages), and an interview with Uru (2 pages). That being said, this translation has been split into two parts.

Part 1: Interview with Kimura Ryōhei and Urao Takehiro Part 2: Interview with Uru

Click Here to read Part 2

The Demon Slayers Have Arrived!

While butting heads with each other, the strength of unity between Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha slowly increases. Watching over and supporting those three girls are the uncle and nephew demon slayer combo.

Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha return to the feudal era from the modern Reiwa era. Lately, they have been slaying more demons together. In episode 5, they defeated one of the “Four Perils”, Tōkotsu; in episode 6, they subdued the demon cats nesting in the old temple. Each has a different goal: Towa’s is to break the spell of the “Dream Butterfly” cast upon Setsuna, Setsuna’s is to fulfill her duties as a demon slayer, and Moroha’s is to defeat demon bounties in order to pay off her debt. However, from spending time together, their teamwork seems to be slowly improving.

Supporting the girls’ efforts are demon slayers Kohaku and Hisui. The two of them show concern for Towa and the others by doing things like taking care of Towa who came from the modern era or providing hints to Setsuna on demon subjugation. Especially Kohaku who has relations with their parents in that he joined forces with them to defeat Naraku. Given that, that could be more reason why he pays attention to the girls. Starting from the reason why the Tree of Ages requested the three girls to “Defeat Kirinmaru and Sesshōmaru” to the existence of Rin sleeping within the Tree of Ages, the circumstances surrounding the three girls is full of mystery. Surely Kohaku and Hisui’s existence will become of help to the girls as they overcome trials.

(Character Bios)

Kohaku When he was a boy, it was said that he “Wasn’t suited to be demon slayer” but now he serves as the head of the clan. He was the one who accepted Setsuna as a demon slayer.

Hisui Miroku and Sango’s child and a demon slayer who fights with Hiraikotsu as his weapon. He did not know Setsuna was a half-demon until he was told by Kaede in episode 3.

Higurashi Towa In order to free her younger sister, Setsuna, from the spell of the Dream Butterfly, she returns to the feudal era. Due to having lived in the modern era for so long, she is somewhat hesitant about fighting demons.

Setsuna A demon slayer who had her sleep and childhood memories stolen by the Dream Butterfly. While she pushes away her elder sister, Towa, who for some reason involves herself with her, she also seems to be concerned for her (Towa).

Moroha In order to repay her debt, she bounty hunts. When she puts on rouge, she becomes “The Country Destroying Beniyasha” and displays unparalleled strength but she falls asleep less than a minute later.

Miroku A monk who previously traveled with Inuyasha. Defeating Naraku, the Wind Tunnel in his right hand disappeared. After the battle, he married Sango and became the father to three children which includes Hisui.

Sango Kohaku’s older demon slayer sister. She previously traveled with Inuyasha and her weapon at the time was Hiraikotsu. She had three children with Miroku: Kin’u, Gyokuto, and Hisui.

That Kohaku Became a Dignified Adult

The Role of Kohaku: Kimura Ryōhei “Kohaku is a character that also appeared in “Inuyasha” but he matured well. When one’s impression of him changes this much, I don’t have to keep Akko-san (Yajima Akiko who voiced Kohaku in his boyhood) in mind so he’s easier to play which is nice. As of now, he has the impression of an adult who doesn’t get into a tight spot or loses composure. They handle him with dignity so I think I can play him without worry.“ (translator’s note: Not sure if I translated that last sentence correctly…)

Kohaku During His Boyhood

Sango’s younger brother. He lost his life to Naraku’s trap but was revived with the power of the Shikon Jewel shard. At first, he was being controlled by Naraku but he regained his memories later on.

Kohaku and Sesshōmaru’s relationship

In the story of “Inuyasha”, Kohaku was always in danger of demons targeting the Shikon Jewel shard. At one point, Sesshōmaru saves Kohaku who had been captured by Byakuya of the Mirage and afterwards, Kohaku accompanies Sesshōmaru on his travels. Normally Sesshōmaru does not get close to others but he did not object to Kohaku travelling with him. It could be that to Sesshōmaru, Kohaku was someone that he could allow to stay near him.

What Did He Inherit from His Father, Miroku?

The Role of Hisui: Urao Takehiro “While Hisui is a little older than Setsuna and the others, he has quite a calm impression. It’s just that he is still young, so he has an unknowing and inexperienced side to him. His uncle is teaching him in that regard. I think Hisui’s strong personality resembles his mother, Sango. The lecherous side of his father, Miroku, hasn’t appeared in Hisui yet so I wonder what I’ll do if he has that kind of a side to him (laughs).”

The Reliable Uncle and the Inexperienced Nephew

— From the start, what sort of impression did you have of the work, “Inuyasha”?

Urao: I’m definitely part of the “Inuyasha” generation. I think I was in upper elementary school when “Inuyasha” started broadcasting. I really liked it and I would watch it every week while eating dinner. The first CD I ever bought with my own allowance was V6’s “CHANGE THE WORLD, Inuyasha first opening song” too.

Kimura: I think I was in high school at the time, so I was right on the cusp of the age for watching anime on a daily basis. I felt it was about time I moved on. It’s just that in regard to “Inuyasha”, it left the impression that it was a work that could be enjoyed not just by kids but also by high schoolers and older. In addition to it being the work of Takahashi Rumiko-san, the creator of my absolute favorite “Ranma ½”, I was working in the industry at the time but I enjoyed it as a viewer.

— Which character left an impression on you?

Urao: My favorite was Shippō. In any case, he’s cute. At the time, I was a real scaredy cat so whenever the demon battles began, I would always look away from the screen (laughs). Within that, Shippō was a comforting existence. I also liked the romantic comedy, so I enjoyed watching the exchanges between Miroku and Sango.

Kimura: The one who left an impression on me was Naraku. At a glance, he didn’t really feel like a final boss. When you look at Sesshōmaru, you know “This guy is strong”. But with Naraku, it’s like “Is this guy strong?  What?!”. He could probably win in a fist fight but that air that he has of not allowing you to punch him is something I actually found creepy.

— The current work continues the world of “Inuyasha” but apparently, you were offered the role rather than auditioning for it.

Urao: I was extremely happy. I knew the work, “Hanyō no Yashahime” was being created before it was discussed with me so I was looking forward to it as a regular viewer. It was then that I was asked to play Hisui and I was really surprised and honored.

Kimura: I didn’t know that they were moving forward with this work so I was all the more surprised (laughs).  It’s not often that you get to be involved in an anime that you watched as an average viewer during your childhood, so I was happy. I had a connection with Rumiko-san from a previous work called “Kyōkai no RINNE” so I’m thankful that I get to have another connection via this work of completely different nature. If I had to say, though they’re the same in that they’re works by Rumiko-san, “Ranma ½” and “Kyōkai no RINNE” left a strong comedic impression. However, I was very excited to take part in the fantasy adventure world that is “Inuyasha”.

— How did you feel about the concept of “Continuing the world of “Inuyasha”, drawing the story of the next generation”

Kimura: Continuing a great work is exceedingly difficult so I don’t think it’s something that should be done at a moment’s notice. It’s just that “Inuyasha” was a big hit work that was drawn by the famous artist, Takahashi Rumiko. It was watched by many and loved for a long time. If the staff who created a work of that level decided to do a continuation, there’s no way they could create something half-hearted. Upon receiving talks, I just reminded myself to that level on my own and thought “It will definitely be okay!”

Urao: The generation that watched “Inuyasha” in real time are now adults and there are some that have children. That’s why I think “Hanyō no Yashahime” is a work that can be enjoyed by two generations. Adults can watch a new story together with the kids while explaining to them “”Inuyasha” was this kind of story”. I’m hoping I will be able to assist that kind of work. Actually when episode 1 aired, my high school senpai contacted me saying “I’m about to watch it with my son”.

— That’s a wonderful story. When playing the roles of Kohaku and Hisui, do you keep in mind Kohaku’s boyhood days in “Inuyasha” or Miroku and Sango who are Hisui’s parents?

Kimura: Actually, I don’t keep that in mind one bit.

— I see.

Kimura: For example, even if I were to keep Akko-san (Yajima Akiko who voiced Kohaku in his boyhood) in mind, if asked if I could come near that, the answer would be no (translator’s note: not too sure I got the translation of this sentence right). It’s just that when I was told that Akko-san said “Oh my~ he’s become a fine man”, I was relieved. I’m glad she didn’t think “Tsk!” (laughs).

Urao: I completely mindful of that! Especially in episode 2 when shouting while throwing Hirakotsu; I recorded the voice of Kuwashima Hōko-san (the role of Sango) saying “Hiraikotsu” and the whole time I was riding the train, I listened to it and did image training.

Kimura: I see. It certainly is something like a signature move.

Urao: First, I thought I needed viewers to acknowledge “Hirakotsu!”. Also, since the image of Miroku being able to calmly assess and explain the situation was strong, I’m really conscious of that in explanation scenes. I rewatched the anime and researched the way he spoke.

Kimura: There’s a lot of scenes where Kohaku and Hisui give explanations on demons while splitting lines (amongst themselves).

Urao: Indeed.

Kimura: Kohaku and Hisui probably meet up beforehand. Something like “I’ll explain up to here” (laughs).

Urao:  Responding “Then I’ll explain the next (part)” is something they might be doing (laughs).

— How do you view each other’s characters?

Urao: Kohaku has always been a person who’s known that he was being manipulated and yet still moved in secret; but I also got the impression that he had a strong heart. It means that Ryōhei-san is playing someone like him and it’s really reassuring. As an average viewer of “Inuyasha”, I’m deeply moved that “He’s become a reliable man!” and as Hisui, I feel that “He’s a reliable uncle.” Calling him “Uncle Kohaku” felt kind of fresh (laughs).

Kimura: The impression I got from Hisui was “He’s a good young man.” Although I can say the same for the main three and not just Hisui. At the beginning, I wondered how Kohaku and Hisui would balance out but thanks to the scenario, lines, and Urao’s acting, it became “While he’s gaining experience as a demon slayer, there’s still a part of him that’s inexperienced.”  That’s why I was able to grasp the balance between the two naturally instead of being strangely conscious of it. I became convinced of this in episode 2 in their first appearance scene.

He Can’t Use Any Other Weapon? Hisui Is Still in the Midst of Growing (as a demon slayer).

— Next, please tell us your impressions of Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha.

Urao: Even though they were raised in the feudal era, all of them have some “modern era girl” touch to them. Like the chattering ambiance (laughs). Also, I think each of them has an aspect that they inherited from their parents. Setsuna is the daughter of Sesshōmaru; you can feel that Moroha is Inuyasha’s daughter; Towa’s easygoing aspect gives you the sense that she was raised by Sōta.

Kimura: In a sense, Towa is the hardest to grasp. I think that gives her that protagonist feel.

— You feel she is hard to grasp?

Kimura: She’s full of energy and has an overflowing sense of justice but she has moments where you don’t know what she’s thinking. There, other characters and the readers get tied up… I think you see that a lot in protagonists of thrilling shōnen manga. I think Towa has that sort of precarious aspect. Heck, a modern middle schooler going back to the feudal era; that’s when you think something’s wrong with them (laughs). However, the story won’t progress if you don’t have that and it’s because they’re like that that they can remain the protagonist. Setsuna is cool and of few words but it’s easy to see what she’s thinking. I think the energetic Moroha is the easiest to understand.

Urao: My favorite of the three is Moroha. I can really feel that she inherited Inuyasha’s blood. Like how she’s a little hasty and the way she talks.

Kimura: The way Moroha’s voice actress, Tadokoro-san (Azusa), skillfully plays her is nice. Listening to her talk at a nice tempo feels good. Also, the voice actress for Setsuna, Komatsu-san (Mikako) is able to properly incorporate a sense of inexperience to a character that is prone to appearing boorish; I thought that’s her for yah. With this work, this is my first time working with Matsumoto-san (Sara) who plays the role of Towa and she’s good at acting! During today’s test recording when she said the line “Setsuna!” she got directed once, but the “Setsuna” in the actual recording came out sounding good like bam! I feel something like a synergy effect as the three work each other up which I think is splendid. It seems that the three cast members get along really well too.

Urao: The three of them act wonderfully don’t they. Just, I wonder why Setsuna is somewhat cold towards Hisui (laughs). As of now, Hisui calls Setsuna’s name the most but she looks away from him a lot… I hope they can close the distance between them moving forward!

— Kohaku and Hisui’s role is sort of like a guardian to Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha right.

Kimura: That’s right. It’s like the two of us are watching over the three girls.

Urao: We are sending them to slay demons after all. Hisui should’ve gone with them (laughs).

— In episode 5, due to Hiraikotsu not being effective on the demon they were taking on, Hisui had to stay behind.

Kimura: You know, Hisui is a pro so make him be able to use other weapons! What is he going to do when he doesn’t have Hiraikotsu on hand! (laughs)

Urao: You’re right (laughs). He might get more from here on. He is in the middle of growing (as a demon slayer)!

— Hisui’s development from here on is something to look forward to (laughs). Today (at time of the interview) is right after the televising of episode 1 but Urao-san was posting live on social media. You reacted to the line “Don’t cry Hisui~”

Urao: That’s the line that Hisui’s older twin sisters (Kin’u and Gyokuto) said. Hisui was still a cute baby!

Kimura: They seem strong if they fight as twins. I wonder when the grown-up sisters will show up. Could it be that they’re part of the demon slayer team?

Urao: I’m sure they will make an appearance. The content within episode 1 made “Inuyasha” fans very happy. You could feel the “Inuyasha”-ism everywhere. For example, the program sponsor background image, heads mercilessly flying off, and the background music that makes you go “When this music plays, the demon can be defeated”; everything was nostalgic.

— Yasumura Makoto’s role as Miroku was a topic of discussion as well.

Urao: I was moved. He played the role he inherited from Tsujitani Kōji-san (played the role of Miroku in “Inuyasha”) with great respect. He made me think it was actually Miroku and as his son, I got fired up even more.

— Lastly, please give us your thoughts on the illustration of Kohaku and Hisui published in this month’s issue.

Kimura: Both of them look so reliable!

Urao: Yeah, they look cool. When I see them like this, they really look alike. Uncle Kohaku has a big scar on his nose but I wonder if the one who gave him that scar will make an appearance in the future? The freckles he had as a kid are gone too which is impressionable.

— In the future, is there a situation you would like to see in a copyright image?

Kimura: This is a staple but Kohaku and Hisui in swimsuits?

Urao: (laughs) For me, I want to see the whole family lined up. Like a family photo with the parents, Hisui, the older sisters, and Uncle Kohaku.

Kimura: I like that! The family getting together doesn’t seem like something we’ll get to see much in the actual show. Also, I might want to see the two’s desperate expression. As of now, Kohaku and the others have an air of composure about them; it would be nice to see their forms in action. I’m sure something like a strong enemy will appear and the figures of them fighting valiantly will be drawn in the show. However, there are three protagonists, so our turn probably won’t be for a while (laughs).

Which scene up to episode 6 left an impression on you?

Kimura: Mistress Three Eyes that Nabatame-san (Hitomi) played was scary. She was a formidable foe. She looked just like the demon that first appeared in “Inuyasha”; it was amusing that they continued that.

Urao: Apparently, she’s the grandchild of Mistress Centipede.

Kimura: That confirms a second and third generation. The part where “That thing also had children!” is surprising too though (laughs).

Urao: For me, it had to be the scene where Hisui and Kohaku make their first appearance that left an impression. To think the day would come where I could ride Kirara and throw Hiraikotsu… I was deeply moved like we’ve crossed over eras.

Kimura: Even if you encounter a wonderful new work, it’s not often that you get to experience the same things the people playing the characters in the wonderful preexisting work felt.

Which character are you curious about?

Urao: Kirinmaru who has that mastermind aura. How is he going to move from here on?... There’s a person named Kirin Osamu-sensei in the modern era too so I’m curious as to the relationship between that.

Kimura: There’s no way that that’s the only screen time Hosoya-san (Yoshimasa who plays Kirinmaru) is getting. There’s this feeling of expectation that he will appear again.

Urao: Yeah

Kimura: Not only is there a chance that his existence is connected to the feudal era, but maybe there’s a possibility that he’s actually someone’s descendant? Well, we know absolutely nothing about the scenario ahead so we can just say whatever about the (plot) progression from here on (laughs).

[dreamersleeps]

Hawks and the Biblical Archangel Michael

(Another look at BNHA Vol. 27’s Cover)

This is my first attempt at writing an analysis/interpretation piece for BNHA and in general so please feel free to comment or add on to what I have written below. I hope I didn’t miss explaining something properly.

This post was inspired and influenced after reading through @/cutiesableye ‘s interesting analysis and interpretation of the cover of Vol. 27 which is linked here and looking at @/codenamesazanka ‘s post comparing the cover art to a painting called “The Fall of the Rebel Angels” by Baroque painter Luca Giordano which depicts the Saint/Archangel Michael defeating a group of demons (the original post is linked here).  If we are comparing Vol. 27’s cover art to these paintings, then Hawks is in the position of the Archangel Michael while Jin is in the position of the demons.

By now, I’m sure that a lot of people are aware of the references of the Greek mythological character of Icarus in Hawks’ characterization. However I want to draw attention towards the possible allusions Hawks may convey with another winged figure: the Biblical Archangel Michael.

Despite the fact that Horikoshi is a Japanese author and that the story largely relies on contextualization that is based on Japanese culture, that does not mean that he can’t be inspired by Western ideas and faiths from outside Japan. When it comes to other Christian references, I think you can look towards All For One/Shigaraki and Ibara Shiozaki from Class 1B who have more explicit references to Jesus Christ and other Biblical references. If Horikoshi wasn’t inspired by this Biblcial figure, this piece or similar art pieces then please take this post as an interesting take on the cover. However I think this take on the cover adds to the narrative. There are some interesting similarities between Hawks and the Archangel.

After a quick search on Google, I realized that quite a few pieces of art of the Archangel from the 1500s - 1700s (not quite sure about the time frame) depict him triumphantly standing atop a pile of the enemy/demons/sinners, wings spread out wide, dressed in a red or blue robe and with his right arm wielding a sword lifted in the air, sometimes with the sun or a bright light shining down on him from behind his head. 

Here are a few examples: 

“Archangel Michael punishing sinners” by unknown Austrian artist (1700s)

“Saint Michael Archangel” by unknown artist (1490s) 

So who is the Archangel Michael? 

First of all in the hierarchy of angels, Archangels are those who are at the very top. The title comes from the Greek words “arche” which means prince, and “angelos” which means messenger and they fulfill a number of important purposes. I think which angels are considered an archangel is debated based on holy scriptures between the Abrahambic religions (Judaism, Christianity, Islam) however because the paintings above were produced by those who were of Christian and Catholic faith, I will focus on looking at the Bible. In the Bible, Micheal is the only angel who is explicitly labelled as an Archangel. He is an angel of supreme power and the leader of God’s army. 

Based on the information I found online and from my own knowledge, the Archangel Micheal had four main responsibilities based on what is found in the Bible and in Christian tradition: 

Combat Satan.

Escort the faithful to heaven at their hour of death.

Be a champion of all Christians, and the Church itself.

Call men from life on Earth to their heavenly judgement.

For this next portion, I’m going to try my best to show how they connect back to Hawks. 

First, the Archangel Michael is the enemy of Satan. 

In the Biblical “end times” which is depicted in the book of Revelations, it is written that Archangel Micheal will lead God’s army into a final battle against Satan and his fallen angels and be victorious. 

A hero’s enemy is a villain and the villain’s enemy is a hero. This current war between the heroes and the Paranormal Liberation Front is happening largely due to Hawks’ role in infiltrating the PLF and the information he gathered. It’s a great clash between the two major forces BNHA society deems as “good” and “evil.” Although Hawks may have not led the heroes into battle but he played a major role in starting it. We have yet to reach the outcome of the war. 

Second, he comes at the hour of death and presents a last chance at salvation.

During a period of time before someone dies, the Archangel Michael descends to those who haven’t yet connected to God and gives them a last chance at salvation before their time to decide runs out. He gives them one more chance to essentially redeem themself before passing. After the individual dies, Micheal and other angels escort those who are saved to heaven. 

In chapter 264, Hawks says that he believes that Twice/Jin is a good person and offers him a chance to leave quietly and have the opportunity to have a fresh start in life, telling him that he’d even help him. Very simply put, from Hawks’ point of view, this is a ticket out, a chance to be “saved.” Twice chooses to fight for his friends and the LoV instead and dies by Hawks’ hand shortly after Dabi comes to intervene. 

Third, he is the Guardian of the Church.

His name, Michael, means “one who is like God.” Throughout early Church history, he has been called the “chief of Israel” and the “Prince of all angels.” One of his major responsibilities is to protect the People of God. To protect the Church, Michael leads angel armies into battle against its enemy, Satan and his fallen angels. 

This one might be kind of a stretch but I think you can connect Hawks’ position as the Hero Public Safety Commission’s tool to this role. He is one of the Commission’s valuable weapons, and they will utilize him in order to achieve a certain outcome. Hawks views himself as someone who has the responsibility of protecting others. In this case, his infiltration mission forced him to bear the weight of the safety of Japan’s population on his shoulders. As a hero he had a duty to protect and save.

Fourth, he weighs people’s merits on Judgement Day. 

(I could not find the title, artist or year for this painting.)

In the Christian religion, the Day of Judgement, is the day in the future when all people who are living or who have ever lived will be judged by God. In the Bible, the Archangel Michael helps measure people’s good and bad deeds on Judgement Day. In art, he is also often depicted holding scales and people often describe them as the “scales of justice.” Going back to the war during the “End of Times” that the Book of Revelations talks about, the weapon that Michael uses to defeat the enemy is often described throughout Christian history and tradition as “the sword of justice.” 

The subject of Twice’s death is a touchy subject and I don’t have the ability to carefully word what I want to convey but harshly written, based on the situation that Hawks was put in and after assessing the possible impact/outcomes of Twice’s role in future events, he makes the decision to kill Twice. He acknowledges Twice to be a “good person” but in that moment he judges him based on where his loyalties might lie and on his past/history. Hawks kills Twice using one of his blade-like feathers that he fights with like a sword. Another interesting thing to note is that the sub-heading of Vol. 27 is “One’s Justice.” 

In Conclusion 

The event portrayed in these paintings depicts a major clash between God and Satan, and ultimately what is good and evil. In the Bible, there is no gray area, only black and white. So if we take this into consideration, is Horikoshi saying that Hawks is the righteous, holy hero and that Twice is the evil, morally upside down villain? No. 

If Horikoshi indeed was influenced by these paintings of the Archangel Michael and his enemies, I do not think he’s portraying the black and white themes the good triumphs evil message it boldly gives off. 

In their post, cutiesableye points out that “In comics, a hero at the bottom and a villain at the top mean the hero is losing and conversely, a hero at the top and a villain at the bottom means the hero wins.” On the cover, Hawks is depicted at the top and Twice is depicted at the bottom. Then they ask an interesting question: “But who is the hero here?" I’d think that someone with no context of the story would find the cover to be somewhat ambiguous. Cutiesableye has a lot more great analysis and interpretation about the cover and especially on Hawks’ and Twice’s facial expressions and body language so I highly encourage you to go read their post if you haven’t done so already.

Anyways, back to the question: “But who is the hero here?” 

Well on this manga page, Hawks looks more like the villain than Twice does. I think that grayness is what Horikoshi was going for. Both Hawks and Twice are gray characters. That is why so many people have their own strong opinions and interpretation about what happened between Hawks and Twice. Neither of them can be labelled comfortably as “good” or “evil” or in general, “hero” or villain,” and I think that is the point. I’m not going to go in depth about their character and morals but simply stated, Hawks is a hero who now has blood on his hands because he believed that the decision he made would save more lives and Twice was someone who was further categorized as a villain because he found community and family with the League of Villains and later died trying to defend them. However this grayness does not excuse any crimes that were committed on either side. It just makes the conversation more complex.

Another way you can portray this is that Hawks is not an angel and Twice is not Satan or a demon. Like you and me, Hawks and Twice are both human. BNHA is a story about humans and we are not perfect. Although we can show the best and worst in humanity, we can be very gray characters as well. On the surface level, you can say that the heroes represent the “good” side and the villains represent the “evil” side, however if you take a closer look that is not the case. It’s more complicated than that. Through the current (Paranormal Liberation War) arc, Horikoshi is really exposing the gray areas that lie between the black and white.