#i wouldn’t put it past brennan

[azimachra]

anyone else concerned that she’s The Wizard Steal and not The Wizard Steel?

[cabbagewithissues]

I had to go back and look, because it’s been haunting me ever since I saw Sam’s post that Grant was supposed to be at the middle podium for Game Changer Bingo^3: they used Grant’s stamp for the shoot and then made a mockup of Brennan’s in post.

[silverspadesss]

not ashamed to admit that during rosamund’s nightmare trip before the prince said his name i fully expected it to be alphonse

[amysky21]

Okay but did Brennan actually make Ice Feast a spell? It was probably just a joke but honestly? I wouldn’t put it past him?

Let the president cast Ice Feast.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #16

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: heavy drinking

“You did what?”

Iris stared at Kit. When Kit offered to talk to David, she expected… well she wasn’t sure what she expected. Not this.

“He didn’t want help, so I promised I would if he changed his mind,” he repeated.

“I heard you,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But did you have to make a promise promise? You can’t refuse that.”

“I know,” said Kit, an edge to his voice. 

“I get that you want to help, but I’m concerned. You can’t just promise things all the time. You’ll be compelled.”

“I know,” he bit out.

Iris stood from her chair, and Kit shrank back.

“I’m sorry. Please,” he whimpered.

She paused.

“It won’t interfere with our deal,” he begged, “Please.”

What was he afraid of?

“I just wished you’d talk to me first. That’s all.”

“Yes, Mistress. I won’t do it again.”

___________________

Iris sat back down, and Kit tried to steady his breathing. He gulped down air, and tried to ground himself with his palms on the floor.

Iris was still watching him from the corner of her eye, and he curled inwards.

“Why do you sit on the floor?” she asked, picking up another form. “It’s not like there’s an absence of chairs.”

Kit looked away. He didn’t want to say ‘because I got used to it’ or ‘because I’m a smaller target’ or ‘because I’m scared of you’ but these were all true things, and he could not lie.

“Kit?” He half expected her to compel him with his name with how angry she was with him before.

He worked the words in his mouth before answering. “It’s... easier.”

He could feel Iris’s eyes on him.

“Okay.”

She turned back to her paperwork, and Kit felt the weight of fear ease up on his shoulders.

They fell into an uneasy silence, the only sound the scratch of pen on paper and the clinking of the glass inkwell.

She moved on from forms to the stack of mail on her desk; tearing open envelopes and pulling out letters.

Iris frowned, scanning the first bundle of paper before tossing it aside. The next one got the same treatment, and the next after that.

“Toss these in the fireplace, would you?”

Kit nodded, getting to his feet. He gathered the papers and put them on the arranged wood in the unlit hearth.

“What were they?” he dared to ask.

“Proposals. Courtship offers.”

“Oh.”

“Most likely my aunt’s work,” she said, picking up an unopened letter and tossing it aside.

“Can’t you tell her to stop?”

“She wouldn’t.”

Kit hummed in sympathy. 

A knock sounded on the office door, and Kit rose to open it.

The door swung open before he could, and unfortunately it was Aunt Nicole.

“Speak of the devil,” muttered Iris under her breath.

Nicole walked into the room, past Kit. “Would you mind, dear?” she asked over her shoulder, smiling.

“Hm?”

“She wants you to step out for a minute, Kit.”

“Oh. Of course.”

He left, gently closing the door behind him.

Kit leaned against the wall, next to Brennan. The knight raised a brow, but said nothing.

___________________

“You shouldn’t be spending time alone with that disgusting creature,” said Nicole with a slight scowl.

“There’s no need to be crass, Aunt Nicole. Kit bathes every morning.” Iris didn’t bother looking up from her paperwork.

“You know what I mean. I hear he eats dirt.”

“Rumors,” dismissed Iris. “You know how they spread.”

“Exactly. Spending time alone with a man you aren’t courting is not helping your case.”

Iris put down her pen. “My case? You may want to rephrase that.”

Nicole looked taken aback.

“That’s no way to talk to your aunt.”

“And that’s no way to talk to your queen.”

Iris stood, her chair scraping against the wooden floor. She pulled more courtship letters from the pile on her desk.

“This-” she said, waving the papers, “needs to stop.”

Nicole wrung her hands. “I’m only trying to look out for you. If your mother-”

“Don’t you dare,” hissed Iris. “You aren’t my mother, and you don’t get to offer my hand to every man in sight.”

She tossed the remaining letters in the fireplace. 

“I know what you really want, Nicky. And you aren’t going to get it.”

Nicole stood stunned at her hard work getting tossed like the trash it was.

“I’m not getting married. Not now, not ever. Understood?”

“Yes, your majesty,” she said, terse. She turned on her heel, and stalked out.

___________________

Kit’s ear twitched as he listened in on Nicole and Iris. 

She was so angry with Nicole, and what did her aunt really want if not just a marriage?

“Are you really able to hear what they’re saying?” asked Brennan.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Mistress is very upset.”

Nicole slammed the door open and swiftly strode away.

They watched her round the corner.

“You don’t say,” said Brennan dryly. Kit snorted.

“Kit, come here,” called Iris.

He waved to a farewell Brennan as he obeyed.

“Are you alright?” he asked, cautiously making his way inside.

“I will be,” she said, staring down into the unlit fireplace. It was stuffed with letters. “Burn these. And fetch me some wine. A bottle, not a glass.”

“Yes, mistress.”

With an easy flick of his wrist, the letters caught a flame and began to burn. Iris stood watching them, a muted expression on her face, and Kit left to get the wine.

___________________

The wine cellar was just off of the kitchen, and Kit scanned the racks of bottles.

He grabbed two at random, and hoped Iris would like one of them.

She was still standing at the fireplace, the fire casting her in orange light like an autumn oak in sunshine.

Kit set one bottle on her desk and opened the other. He joined her by the fire and passed it over.

She drank straight from the bottle, a long swig that made him uncomfortable.

He was no stranger to drinking, but she was upset, and surely getting drunk in her office would not reflect well on her. Iris cared a lot about appearances, and having them cast aside so easily concerned him.

“Would you rather drink in your room?” he asked gently, and she shrugged.

“What’s the point? The kitchen staff saw you take the bottles anyway.” She took another drink.

“You’re wearing heels,” he tried again, “and this hall is carpeted.”

She took off her shoes and tossed them behind her. “There. Fixed.”

Kit said nothing.

Iris sighed. “We’ll go when the letters are ash, alright? You win.”

___________________

Kit put her heels and dress away as Iris sulked on the couch. 

She was starting on her second bottle, and drunk.

He pulled a nightgown from her dresser.

“Here you are,” he offered, and she tugged it on, pulling her bra off and out from underneath and tossing it away.

“Thanks. You can go.”

Kit didn’t leave, sitting on the floor next to the couch. She needed company, and not just because she was drinking so much.

“Today was awful,” she said aloud. “I think I really fucked up.”

He caught on to her train of thought. “Nicole deserved it.”

“No, I mean,” she sighed. “I told her I wasn’t ever getting married.”

“Good.”

“No! It’s not good! Why would I say that? Especially to her!” 

Iris took another long drink.

“You’re going to have a hangover,” he warned. 

“Couldn’t you just magic it away?” she waved, gesturing with the bottle.

Kit hummed. “I suppose.”

Silence fell as Iris put her feet up on the coffee table.

“I don’t want to get married,” she admitted.

“Then don’t.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“They could be,” he said. “You’re the queen.”

“That’s the problem. I need to marry well, and have lots of children, but not too many,  because I’m the queen. For the good of the country.”

“What about for the good of you?”

Iris went quiet. “I don’t know what that looks like.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale @bitchaknso @starfields08000

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

Okay, so, due to the nature of Dimension20 and Fantasy High specifically, most of the NPCs live in a space between trope and caricature

Brennan being Brennan (and the Intrepid Heroes being the Intrepid Heroes) those tropes are often turned on their head and the caricature belies something deeper, but as a starting point, they are all larger than life, none more so than Arthur Aguefort himself

Which brings me to Worlds Beyond Number, and the Wizard Sly

Aguefort is a cartoon character. He wouldn’t feel out of place in a sitcom (with or without laugh track)

Sly, in the 30 minutes or so of screen time we’ve got so far, feels like a fully fleshed out, real person. Eccentric but not played for laughs.

and i’ve been thinking that, for the last day or so, there’s this thread between them (something more than “magical old black man”) and i think i landed on it

Time

What is chronomancy but divination turned up to 11?

These two men seek to make the world a better place through their knowledge of time. They can be gruff, but give good advice. They mentor multiple generations of young heroes. They both have red birds that seem near and dear to them.

The more i think about it, it’s not a thread that binds them. They, thus far, seem like two sides of the same coin. The Wizard Sly seems very much to be Arthur Aguefort freed from the hijinks of Solace and burdened with a more grounded world

… you know, with his capacity for shenanigans, i wouldn’t put it past Arthur to have dimension hopped and found himself having to run a long con

it’s like, super unlikely

but…

[kipperlillyforpresident]

Bro your blog has officially made me a Kipperlily apologist I can’t even lie, I really REALLY am desperately hoping and praying she doesn’t just get unceremoniously iced, I love the intrepid heroes but like. COME ON, there is clearly so much more being hinted at, yes Brennan has had more one dimensional kid villains in the past, but notably they were all Much older then the bad kids at the time, and I feel like he wouldn’t put this much effort into fleshing her out if there wasn’t something kind of tragic and sympathetic going on

this is such an honor!!! i am glad that i can convert another into the noble cause (defending a fictional teenage girl)

as for her potential death... if i'm honest, here's what i think will happen. they are going to kill her, laugh about it, and then revivify her. and then tell her that she owes them her life now.

i don't hope this happens, to be clear. that would also be a bummer, and i agree there's clearly a lot more going on with her. but it feels like the most consistent thing to me. the bad kids have, multiple times, considered killing the rat grinders (when buddy died, there was a moment where kristen was like 'what if i don't revive him so the rat grinders go pass/fail). but they've never really settled on it.

i think, more then anythign. the bad kids/intrepid heros just want to humiliate klck. and i think that would be the most humiliating option.

AGAIN this is my like... not worst-case scenario, i suppose. her being unceremoniously killed is the worst-case to me. but it isn't a scenario i particular like. i think it would only serve to be cruel and to reenforce the bad kids worst qualities (which klck has been pointing out, but they're all suddenly invalid because of her ''multiple murders'' and ''being posessed by a rage god''🙄🙄🙄🙄).

but i do think its a possibility, and so i'm bracing myself for it. sorry that this got a bit negative, haha - thank you so much for the ask!

[malkavi-ann]

When the Truth Hurts. Chapter 7

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree fanfiction

Rating: Mature (May change in the future)

Relationship: F/M

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler/Original Female Character

Tags: Self-Loathing, Reference to Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Messmer is bad at feelings, Mommy Issues, Abandonment Issues, Mostly Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Tarnished never arrives to the Land of Shadow, Friendship/Love

Link to Ao3

Chapter 7: The Ritual

TW: Mentions of violence and abuse

The following few guard shifts Brennan and Morgana spent going over the plan. It seemed quite simple: on the day of Brennan’s shift, Morgana needed to get Hilde to come closer to the prayer’s room door. When the Fire Knight was close enough to the small window, she would use one of the enchanted flowers that Brennan would have brought to her earlier. That would put Hilde to sleep for a few hours, and while she would be asleep, Brennan would take the key and get access to the room. After that, they should have enough time to perform the ritual. Again, it sounded pretty simple yet it was still incredibly risky. Needless to say, when Hilde would eventually wake up once the ritual was over, she would have many questions about what had happened to her, and both Brennan and Morgana would be the primary suspects. However, at this point neither of them cared enough about the consequences, and if they were to be questioned, their main strategy would be denial.

On the day of the planned ritual, both Brennan and Morgana were extremely anxious. Neither of them could sleep the night before. Despite having discussed their plan in great detail multiple times, there was still a possibility of something going wrong. Morgana spent the night rehearsing her lines while holding onto the withered purple flower like it was her dearest treasure. She really hoped that this plan would work not for her own sake but mostly for Brennan’s. Deep down Morgana felt sorry for him: he was far away from his home and family which he missed dearly, and there was no certainty about his future. Yet this man was determined to go as far as to disobey orders just to get a glimpse of his past life in his dreams. And Morgana was his only hope, his guide to the world of dreams. How desperate and miserable he must have been here if facing harsh consequences wasn’t a major deterrent to his goal. In a way, his actions were admirable in Morgana’s eyes: Brennan wouldn’t give up on his hopes; thus, she swore to do her best to help him.

The prayer room where Morgana had been locked away was always dark, so it was impossible to tell what time of the day it was. However, having spent almost a month in that room, Morgana learned an approximate schedule of her jailers. The Fire Knight would bring her food a couple of times a day: one around midday and another towards the evening. In between those meals, Hilde would sometimes go away for an hour or two leaving a soldier to guard the cell. Morgana’s task was to make Hilde fall asleep just before the beginning of Brennan’s shift. She was praying that her prepared little speech would grab Hilde’s attention enough to get her close to the window.

It felt like an eternity to wait until her first feeding time but because of the growing anxiety Morgana could barely eat anything. She tried to nibble on some bread but immediately felt so nauseous she thought she would throw up. “No point in forcing myself to eat. I better focus on my part of the plan until the time is right.” She thought to herself trying to suppress the nauseating feeling in her stomach.

The next couple of hours went by in a haze. It was when Morgana heard Hilde’s anxious pacing outside the door that she knew she had to act. Brennan was going to be a bit late to allow her time to engage with the Fire Knight, and Hilde didn’t like it when the guards were late. As Morgana moved closer to the door, she could feel herself trembling. When she was right next to the barred window, she could see her jailer going back and forth in front of the cell. The Fire Knight, who was normally calm and composed, was visibly annoyed that her subordinate wasn’t there to take over the guard duty. “It’s time.” Morgana whispered to herself, took a deep breath and leaned closer to the bars.

“Lady Hilde, may I speak to you?” Morgana said, her shaky voice almost betraying her.

The Fire Knight stopped pacing and glared at the horned woman. The prisoner hardly ever tried to speak to her, let alone addressed her by name in such a direct manner.

“I don’t have time to talk with prisoners.” Her usually cold tone was full of venom this time. The whole situation started to irritate her: Hilde had an important meeting she needed to attend, and that useless guard was late for his shift. She simply couldn’t afford wasting time on idle conversations, especially with the likes of Morgana.

Morgana was expecting resistance, so her next words came out immediately. “Please, it’s an urgent matter that concerns Sir Messmer. I have an important message for him regarding my memories.” Surely, that piece of information was bound to grab her attention.

To Morgana’s relief, it seemed that Hilde’s curiosity was piqued. The Fire Knight took a few steps towards the door but it was still not close enough. “What is it? Spit it out!” Hilde demanded, her commanding tone exhibiting impatience.

There was still some distance between them, so Morgana had to lure her even closer. “It’s quite a private and sensitive matter to talk about. I do not wish to be overheard.” Morgana even lowered her voice to force Hilde to get in her proximity. She knew it was silly, yet she didn’t have many options. All Morgana could do now was pray that her trick would work on Hilde.

”Don’t be stupid, woman. We are alone here.” It was clear that the Fire Knight was losing her patience. Morgana had to choose her next words carefully if she wanted this whole plan to work.

”We may be alone now, but isn’t one of your soldiers supposed to come for the shift any second now? What I have to share with you must not reach the ears of your subordinates. They would lose all respect for Sir Messmer if they heard what I have to say.” Morgana had to bluff and hope that Hilde wouldn’t call it.

There was a brief moment of silence as Hilde was processing what Morgana had just said. Considering the possible link between Morgana and Marika and how it would affect Messmer’s and his army’s morale, she was inclined to believe the horned woman. Sure, it sounded a bit too suspicious to be the truth; however, Hilde would rather be safe than sorry in situations concerning Messmer’s authority.

Morgana’s heart leaped when she heard the Fire Knight sigh deeply. “Fine”, Hilde finally said as she approached the door. This was the perfect moment to make the move. Luckily, Morgana was prepared for it, and when her jailer was practically next to the barred window, she quickly raised her arm and threw the purple powder that was left from the crushed enchanted flower into Hilde’s face. Everything happened so fast, the Fire Knight couldn’t even react. The powder immediately turned into mist, filling her lungs and making her dizzy. Hilde tried to move away and unsheathe her great sword but her limbs refused to obey her. Suddenly her eyes grew heavy, her body went limp, and the last thing she saw before falling asleep was the stone floor of the room.

”It worked!” Morgana exclaimed as she watched Hilde’s body slump on the floor. Now it was Brennan’s turn to fulfill his part of the plan. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait for him too long: Brennan showed up shortly after Hilde fell unconscious with the help of Morgana’s magic. The first thing he did when he approached the female knight was check if she was actually asleep.

“Lady Hilde, can you hear me?” He tried to call out her name to see if she could hear him. Nothing. The Fire Knight was fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady. Brennan looked up to face Morgana, who was getting incredibly anxious on the other side of the door.

”You did it!” His voice was filled with excitement. Things were going according to their plan, and he was going to see his family, even if it was just a dream.

Morgana nodded. “I certainly did, but please hurry up with the key. We mustn’t waste any more time.”

She was right: they needed to act fast before someone stumbled upon Hilde’s body. Brennan quickly grabbed the key ring from the Fire Knight’s pouch and moved towards the door. It didn’t take him long to unlock it and get inside the prayer room. Morgana greeted him with a weak smile; she was sitting on the floor with her cloak resting in her lap. It was unusual for Brennan to see her so up close, and even though she wasn’t standing, she still was quite tall.

”Shall we bring Hilde in? Just in case…” She asked him.

”That’s probably a good idea.” Brennan agreed with the suggestion. It took a couple of minutes to drag Hilde’s body into the room.

“Alright, we should probably begin the ritual.” Morgana said in a hushed voice once Brennan closed the door behind him. “Come here and sit with me.” She said, gesturing to him to move by her side. Brennan didn’t have to be asked twice; he sat next to her, suddenly getting anxious about the ritual.

”Rest your head on my lap. Try to relax and think about what dream you’d like to see.”

He swallowed nervously but followed her instructions anyway. Her cloak fashioned into a pillow was surprisingly soft and smelled like lavender. As he laid down, he felt his eyelids get heavy and a yawn escaped his mouth. Morgana gingerly put her hand on his head.

”Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath”, her voice was soothing like a lullaby. “Think of those who you wish to see. Picture them in your mind’s eye and focus on them for as long as you can”.

Brennan closed his eyes and tried to recollect any memories related to his family. It didn’t take him long to bring back the pictures of his house nestled near a lake. He saw his two children playing outside, their laughter bringing joy in his heart. And then there was his beloved wife, his darling Pauline. He concentrated on her image: her long auburn hair, a sun-kissed round face with freckles, those lovely dimples whenever she smiled. There she was, so close yet so far, existing only in his mind for now.

Meanwhile, Morgana’s eyes turned bright purple as she went into a trance-like state. The familiar interior of the room started to blur as she was on the threshold of the dreamworld. However, she couldn’t step in there yet because Brennan was still awake.

”Brennan, listen to me closely. You will fall asleep on the count of three. Keep focusing on your dream.” She whispered to him. “One. Two. Three.”

And just like that, Brennan fell into the state of slumber, which opened the pathway to the dreamworld for Morgana. It was a sudden yet pleasant transition akin to falling into a soft feathered down bed. In an instant Morgana found herself in a darker version of the prayer room which was now engulfed in a purple mist. The dreamworld felt familiar and welcoming to her despite its gloomy appearance. The air was cool but not uncomfortably cold; it was more like a refreshing breeze filled with the faint aroma of lavender. In the center, Brennan was peacefully snoring on the floor, and above his head there were three dimly glowing orbs just floating in the air. As Morgana slowly approached them, she reached out to one of the orbs. It flickered at her touch and suddenly dissipated, its particles forming into a thin thread. After Morgana repeated the same motion to the other two orbs, she chanted an incantation to commence the most important part of the ritual.

Suddenly, the threads began to move on their own as if they were following the rhythm of the chant. All Morgana had to do now was to guide them as she weaved them into Brennan’s dream. She had done dream weaving before - though she couldn't remember the circumstances - and she was always mesmerized by it: the way the threads were intertwining, forming into a glowing canvas, was like some otherworldly dance, and Morgana was the one staging it. Those threads represented the memories or images that Brennan wanted to see in his dream. Morgana had the ability to peer into the dreams; however, she chose not to for she believed that they were sacred, intimate, and, therefore, had to remain unseen. Thus, she stayed in the dreamworld as a silent guardian of Brennan’s peaceful rest while also admiring her work in solitude.

*** “How could she be late? Lady Hilde is as punctual as a clockwork.” Commander Gaius exclaimed in that thunderous voice of his.

Messmer had to agree with his friend: one of his most loyal Fire Knights would always arrive on time to give reports, and now she had already been 30 minutes late. To put it mildly, it was incredibly unusual for Hilde to be even a tiny bit late. What could have possibly delayed her for that long? His gut feeling was that something was awfully wrong about this whole situation. And he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was something to do with the prisoner Hilde was guarding.

”I’m going to the Church District.” Messmer said, standing up from his seat. Gaius gaped at him for a moment.

”My lord, we could just send the soldiers down there to check Lady Hilde.” The commander was genuinely confused as to why Messmer had to go there himself.

Messmer turned to his friend as he was about to leave the chamber. ”I have an inkling that our…”guest” might be the reason behind Hilde’s tardiness. We shouldn’t underestimate her and her abilities. Both of us have seen what she is capable of.”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” The albinauric man mumbled to himself as Messmer headed off to Morgana’s cell.

On the way to the prayer room, Messmer was trying to figure out what could have happened to Hilde who was highly skilled in both combat and fire magic. She was certainly not an easy target but Morgana’s powers had proven to be very effective against his people. Besides, he was only aware of one of her abilities; the full extent of her magic was yet to be uncovered. However, there was one thing that didn’t make sense: Messmer had taken away her belongings. Assuming that whatever was in her pouch allowed her to cast her spells, Morgana shouldn’t have been able to inflict sleep on Hilde. Could it have been possible that someone else was helping her somehow?

The mere thought of his people disobeying his orders was infuriating. He had to deal with riots within his ranks before, and it left him with bitter memories. Messmer really hoped that this time it wasn’t the case of rogue soldiers going against him. However, if his suspicions were true, his wrath would be unmatched.

The Church District greeted him with quiet despair and a suffocating stench of mildew. What a shame. It used to be a place of worship where his subordinates could get some peace and quiet, and now it was nothing but a bunch of flooded derelict buildings rotting away in the water. These days only few Fire Knights could be seen patrolling this area; however, on his way to the prayer room, Messmer didn’t encounter anyone. It was quiet. Too quiet.

As he turned around the corner, Messmer saw that his concerns were not unfounded: Hilde was not at her post. Usually, when she had to leave the cell unattended, a guard would have to take over her place. However, there was no one guarding the door, which was a bad sign. Without hesitation, Messmer went straight to the door, and as soon as he approached it, he caught a whiff of the familiar scent of lavender that he’d first encountered when he met Morgana. She must have used her power somehow; maybe taking away her sacred seal wasn’t enough. His serpents hissed in unison as they prepared to face whatever danger was ahead of them.

Without even looking through the barred window, Messmer pushed the door half expecting it to be open. It flung open revealing Hilde’s unconscious body lying on the floor of the room. He hurried inside just to witness Morgana holding in her arms one of his soldiers who was fast asleep. He could feel his blood boil with fury: how could one of his men disobey him like that? Overwhelmed by bloodthirst, he closed the distance and grabbed Brennan by the throat.

Meanwhile, Morgana, who was still in the dreamworld, sensed that something was wrong in the real world. Suddenly, her connection to the dream disappeared as Brennan got forcefully woken up. The sight before her eyes filled her heart and soul with horror: Brennan was struggling for air as Messmer had lifted him up, choking him. The whole room felt hotter as if it was set ablaze by Messmer’s fury. She had to stop him!

”My lord, please let him go!” She pleaded with Messmer but he ignored her cry. In fact, his grip on the soldier’s neck only tightened. Brennan’s eyes rolled back, and his breathing got shallow. He was going to die if Morgana didn’t act fast.

“This foul worm is a traitor. I’ll kill him and put his worthless body on a stake as a warning to everyone, including you”. He hissed, his gaze fixed on poor Brennan, who was fighting for every little bit of air.

His spiteful words brought a horrifying realization upon Morgana: it was her fault that this man was going to die. She could’ve said no to his request, considering how dangerous the whole idea of conducting the dream ritual was. And yet she agreed to this… The events that were unfolding in front of her were nothing but a consequence of her actions. Hot tears welled up in her eyes. It was all her fault, but she wouldn’t let him die like that. If this was her mistake, then Morgana would rather take the punishment herself.

Determined to stop Messmer, Morgana ran up to him and tried to grab his arm but his serpents were quick to react, darting towards her and hissing menacingly. They didn’t attack her, however; their actions were to stop her from interfering. Morgana recoiled instinctively at first but, seeing that the snakes didn’t mean to actively harm her, she moved in closer to look into his eye.

”My lord, it’s all my fault that this happened. This man has done nothing wrong. It was all my idea, and he just followed it.” She didn’t care if she had to lie to save Brennan. Morgana only hoped that Messmer would believe her.

”Please, don’t kill him. He’s innocent!” Her voice faltered as she cried out. “Take my life instead.”

Her plea seemed to work this time because Messmer finally looked at her. And as he did, he froze in place, overwhelmed by the memories he wished to forget.

He was still a young boy when the Hornsent sent several raids on Shaman Village. Every time the Horned Warriors came to the village, they ransacked it, taking some of the shaman women with them. He could hear their blood curdling screams and cries for help as they got dragged to Bonny Village, a wretched place where shamans were tortured and mutilated before they were stuffed into massive jars. Marika would always hide Messmer during those raids but one day they found him.

The memories of those moments still haunted him. Marika was away at that time, collecting medicinal herbs in the nearby forest. A couple of horned warriors barged into their hut while Messmer was waiting for his mother’s return. He tried to run but they were much faster and stronger than him. They called him “abomination” and “monster”; they were telling him how they would flay his skin and then chop him up in pieces. Messmer still remembered how terrified and helpless he was at that moment: he was just a little boy, so all he could do was cry. He also remembered that soon enough his mother returned home. Horrified by the scene in front of her, she darted towards her son, protecting him from the warriors, who seemed to be amused by the poor woman’s actions.

”Please, leave him alone. He’s just a boy!” She begged them to spare her only child but they only laughed at her.

”A bastard child of a whore shaman woman is still good enough meat for the jar. Maybe we’ll stuff both of you in the same one.” One of them sneered as he approached Marika and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her away from crying Messmer.

”Please, he’s innocent. Take me instead.” She looked into her torturer’s face despondently. Marika was terrified but she would rather suffer herself than let her son die by the hands of those vile Hornsent.

The men exchanged looks before speaking up. ‘Fine. We’ll have fun with you instead. And the little one will watch.”

They beat her up so badly that she was bedridden for a few weeks. They kept her alive because they knew she was a healer; they told her once her bruises and wounds healed up, they’d come back for more.

Marika’s bloodied face and her final words got etched into Messmer’s memory. And now as he was looking at Morgana, her face red from crying, he could see his mother again, begging him to spare someone’s life. At that moment, he was the torturer, the bloodthirsty monster, similar to those disgusting Horned warriors. He released his grasp, and Brennan collapsed on the floor, coughing profusely as he was trying to breathe freely again.

Morgana stopped crying and looked at Messmer with gratitude. She really began to lose hope but the sudden change in his behavior brought her some relief. She did notice the sadness in his face as he released Brennan from his grasp. Just a moment ago he was filled with anger but now he looked sorrowful as if he realized that he was about to take an innocent life without fair judgement.

”Thank you, my lord.” She tried to express her gratitude but Messmer didn’t seem to hear her. Or perhaps he didn’t care for it. He was just staring at her with that look of sorrow.

”Don’t thank me for that.” He finally snapped out of his stupor. “I might’ve spared his life for now but he still deserves punishment for insubordination.” He threw a look of disgust towards Brennan, who was still gasping for air.

”And you,” he turned to Morgana, “you will be questioned. I’ll see to it myself. Now, I need you to wake Hilde up.”

Morgana did as he asked, and in an instance Hilde woke up. She tried to get up, groaning and holding the side of her head, but as soon as she caught a glimpse of Morgana, her whole demeanor changed.

”You…,” she hissed angrily, “you did this. I’ll make you pay for this.”

When she tried to move closer to Morgana, Messmer stood in front of her. ”Lady Hilde, I need you to take this traitor to the most isolated dungeon in the Keep. Give him the dirtiest, most difficult job you can find. Make his existence as miserable as possible. I don’t care if he lives or dies but he needs to learn his lesson. I’ll deal with Morgana myself”.

”Of course, my lord.” As livid as she was, Hilde couldn’t let feelings prevent her from following orders. As such, she forced Brennan to leave the room and escorted him to the deepest dungeon of the Shadow Keep. From now on, his fate was sealed.

[justallihere]

I have a few fan theories for SITQ. Some of these happen in the distant future (like probably after the story ends) so idk if that would make them easier to answer? You also don’t have to answer any

Violet’s stiff fingers make it hard to wear a ring, so Xaden has them remade into a necklace somehow (but without melting the rings because they still mean something as rings… they can be clipped into place on the pendant idk)

Mira stabs Brennan at least 2x. After all, she was closer with him than Violet was, so she would probably feel even more betrayed

Jesinia makes an appearance and tells Violet thanks for teaching those signs to Sawyer. Or maybe it’s not even specifically about Jesinia at all and Violet has done a much wider public service!

Dain does one more good thing that moves him slightly further along his redemption arc, and also he gets to say a full apology to Violet without her cutting him off (not that I like Dain that much but this would feel consistent with what you’ve written so far… also I do think apologies in general are important)

If Violet and Xaden eventually do have kids then they wouldn’t be raised as royalty because they’d try to transition Tyrrendor into full democracy? I haven’t fully thought this one through but they just strike me as such protective would-be parents that they wouldn’t want their kids to be in the same spotlight that they were? The same spotlight that just put Violet in danger this past chapter? idk

The second Navarrian prince (Alic?) is still a jerk and still alive given that your Xaden didn’t kill him (and wouldn’t have been close in age anyway, unless you bumped up his age too). First, that means Cam doesn’t have reason to hate Xaden, which we already know. But does that also impact Cam’s motivations? Like, is Cam even more frustrated that no one in his family, not even the rider, cares about venin?

Again, you don’t have to answer any of these! But your fic has really reminded me/made me think through some details in the book, and I’m now fully invested in not just Violet and Xaden but also all the background characters! I love how well you write!!

Okay let’s see what I can do here:

1. Yes and no. There are definitely days when the swelling is worse and it would be difficult to get them on. Neither of them would want to change the rings at all, so she would have a chain to wear them on if she wanted, but she prefers to wear them on her fingers

2. Mira’s reaction shall remain a secret until it happens!

3. Jesinia does make an appearance in the next few chapters. . . Violet may or may not *wink wink nudge nudge* ask how her and Sawyer have been doing

4. Dain is going to do more than one more good thing. He and Violet will say words to each other within the next 5 chapters, and he won’t just disappear after that. He’s been manipulated into a lot of shitty decisions and he’s now trying to make up for it. That doesn’t absolve him of any responsibility but his actions are changing in addition to him saying he wants to be different (see: him standing up to his father about reading Violet’s memories)

5. This one is hard to answer. Xaden’s a fucking control freak. It’s hard to decide what they might do later when there’s still so much to write about what they’re doing now. And where there are now is: hard pass on the kids, and Xaden would have a very difficult time giving up control when he’s worked so hard (in a position he didn’t even want) to keep these people safe. Idk, I think I’d have to come back to this once we’ve reached the end!

6. Alic is still alive! And yes, Cam is VERY frustrated. He’s at Basgiath and trying to get in with Violet and Xaden for a reason. The man needs to talk to people who know how to get shit done

[ladiesandwitches]

For muns with multiple muses, past and present, on any blog.

Rules: Fill out the form according to which muse suits each title best. (The same muse can have multiple titles.) Repost and tag. Feel free to add more!

Favorite Muse: Lilith over on my single-muse. I adore her completely and she’s just...yeah definite favourite. But if I’m picking just off this blog..that’s difficult because they’re all quite different. Like, how can I pick between Giselle and Zelda? Or Sabrina and Scully? You know, let’s just stick with Lilith is my favourite, and not complicate things, haha. 

Most Character Development: Again, that would probably be Lilith. Mainly because she goes through A LOT within her canon, and exploring that canon and then exploring more things through threads means she just naturally develops a lot. Other than her it would probably be Sabrina or Scully, simply because they prove to be the most popular muses at the moment with people which means more threads, which means more development. 

Trash Muse: Luci. He aims to be trash. The kind of trash that sets itself on fire and then turns out to not be trash but actually all of your prized possessions which he set on fire because he was bored. 

The Meme-Lord: Luci. 

Most Likely to Start a War: Again, Luci. For Funsies. 

Worst Personality: Luci. Because of all of the above.

Most Attractive Muse: Too many gorgeous to choose. But personally, I’d say Lilith.

Biggest Heart: Giselle, hands down.

Falls in Love Quickest: Sabrina. She wouldn’t admit it but it’s true. 

Most Likely to Drop Their Phone in the Toilet: Mary. While jumping nervously at something.

Ice Ruler: Zelda. Even if she’s a squishy mess of emotional caramel undernerth, she can ice people out as if it’s her professional career.  

The Edgelord: Lilith. 

Most Tragic Backstory: Lilith.

Best Case of Puberty: As in, they left awkwardness behind and blossomed into confidence and beauty? We’ll give that to Brennan. 

Most Awkward: Mary. 

Busy Bee: Depends what’s defined as the busiest kind of busy. Lilith is always sorting out shit and ruling Hell and clearing up Sabrina related messes, Hilda is always busy doing one thing or another and getting involved in people’s lives, Scully is always working and has a roller-coaster of a life, and Brennan has worked hard her entire life and is in constant demand. 

Most Clueless: I wouldn’t say any are clueless, but Giselle is incredibly innocent and naive which I think puts her here. 

Most Likely to Forget Their Wallet at Home: Hilda. Because she’d be distracted by doing something else. 

Best Dressed: Lilith and Zelda tie for this, I think. 

Biggest Flirt: None of them are very flirty (except in cases of doing it for the sake of manipulation) but Zelda is hyper sexual. 

Most Dramatic: Sabrina. Everything is drama with that girl. Everything. 

Least Likely to Show Up Late: Brennan. 

One with Weirdest Habit: Scully. She has hidden depths of weirdness.

Most Likely to Be Caught at the Gym: Luci. Simply to switch around all the weights and labels so everything ends up in chaos. 

tagged by @hvbris tagging: ALL MULTIMUSES WHO SEE THIS

[fardell24b]

6th January 2023 Writings

6th

 Excerpt from: The Youngest Barksdale

Helen arrived home around the usual time and found Daria reading in the lounge room. “Daria?” she asked.

 “Hi, Helen,” Daria said as she put the book aside.

 “You want something, don’t you?” Helen asked, remembering similar behaviour from her sister in the past.

 “Yes. I heard that there were modelling agents at school last year.”

 She sat next to her sister. “Oh that! Quinn was very annoying about it, but nothing came of it.”

 “Oh? I also heard that she was involved.”

 “What are you getting at, Daria?”

 Daria sighed. “The editor of Val magazine was there today…”

 “Quinn told me yesterday. Another student won a contest.”

 “And the Principal bent over backwards to accommodate her.”

 “That’s not surprising. There’s a lot that’s happened in the past year. But the accusations have come off Angela Li like water off a duck’s back.”

 “I see,” Daria said neutrally, although Helen could tell that she was annoyed.

 She had heard what Daria had done at her past schools. ‘Could she do the same at Lawndale?’ she wondered, not for the first time. “But maybe you could find something that would stick before you graduate.”

 “I intend to. If there is something, I will find it.”

 “But first, what happened with Val?”

  Daria told Helen what she had heard from Andrea.

 “I see.”

 Words: 221

  Excerpt from: Legacy of Westchester

An expedition discovers a hibernating kaiju somewhere on the Kamchatka peninsula in early May.

 Words: 14

 Excerpt from: 406 Remeetings – 20th

Becki arrived at Wingewarra Baptist Church for the first time in over a year. The year away with her family was worth it. She hoped that the Church would be as she left it. Still holding to the truth of the Gospel. That the new pastor would not be compromising. That there wouldn’t be false teachings. She shook her head. That wasn’t likely, was it? She put that out of mind as she entered the building. She saw some of her friends nearby. “Good Morning,” she said as she walked over.

 “Becki!” It was Elias Brennan.

 Words: 96

 Total: 351

[la-principessa-nuova]

I think it’s going to depend heavily on the person watching and their motives and what they’re into.

I like watching things in release order and knew I was willing to watch a full season, so starting with Fantasy High makes a ton of sense.

For someone who doesn’t care about watching in order who wants a smaller thing to start with, then which sidequest will depend on what they’re into.

Like for me, I put off watching Dungeons & Drag Queens for a while because I wasn’t in the mood for a basic beginner quest, and even when I did watch it, I wasn’t quite in the mood for that, so I had trouble paying attention. If that had been my first season while in that mood, I probably wouldn’t have watched more.

I keep going to recommend one but then I’m like, “But it’s so much better with the context of why it’s different from past seasons!” Like NSBU will be a great one when it’s over, but also it’s so hectic and it’s hard to appreciate how funny it is without knowing how Brennan normally is. Or to appreciate how funny it is when Ally Beardsley is the one being rational compared to how they normally are.

I was going to recommend A Court of Fey and Flowers at one point but then you miss out on seeing Brennan as a player after seeing him as DM for so long.

But honestly if someone is going to start with a season other than the first, it’s fine, just read the premise to find one you’d be into and don’t pick one of the sequel/prequel/spinoff seasons.

Personally I think starting with an Intrepid Heroes season is best because then you understand the core cast dynamics before branching out (the vibes of each sidequest are so different).

But just like with the sidequests, it’s just a matter of picking the one you’re most interested in by the premise, because they all have something interesting that is slightly more interesting with the previous context, but it’s fine to miss out on that

Controversial Dimension 20 opinion; Fantasy High isn't the best campaign and it isnt the one you should start with.

With only 4 episodes and a beginner-player cast, Dungeons and Drag Queens is the perfect entry point. And one of the best "sidequests".

I also would recommend Mentopolis as a first watch.

If you want to start with the core cast and are ok with longer, maybe Neverafter? NSBU isnt fully out yet but a GREAT place to start, HIGH octane.

If you're cool with or prefer a guest DM, Coffin Run is short(er), spooky and fun. Ravening War is better if you watch Crown of Candy first (which is probably my personal favorite of the longer core cast quests), but can probably be watched on its own imo, and that would be the one to watch if you already know you like Mercer - OR his PC turn in the all-villain one, in which they are totally definitely actually evil and not "The Power of Friendship" -core, "Escape from the Bloodkeep". & there is Aabria's Court of Fey & Flowers if you're into a more romantic story.

Fantasy High is a good place to go to when you've watched a sidequest or two and are now hooked and invested. It's the "main quest" and the core cast. It's a fine place to start but you dont HAVE to start there.

Same way I feel about people thinking they should start playing dnd as their first ttrpg, I actually think shorter easier games like Queer Bar and Honey Heist and murder mysteries are better entrypoints.

[vethbrenatto]

 things that as a former survivor superfan i loved about game changer survivor:

lou wilson mastermind - the right man won indeed

thank GOD the final vote was given to strategy and not bitterness that would’ve sucked

absolutely hilarious all the way through

somehow so perfectly parody-ing survivor while remaining completely full of levity

ERIKA ISHII MVP OF PART 2 - i was rooting for them so hard and have mad respect for their refusal to budge from the sam strategy, i think it would’ve been cool as shit if that had had pay off

things that as a former survivor superfan were a little underwhelming:

the brennan/lou alliance in general is unfortunately giving terrible flashback to alpha male survivor alliances of seasons past and that triggers me personally

as a subset of that i felt bad that they were only trying to break erika so they had double the battle in the challenges :(

the omnipresence of idols making brennan and lou functionally immune from every vote

the advantage that the survivor superfans had in that the others didn’t really know what to look for (like it was obvious lou wouldn’t play his idol on the tribal he put it on, that was a bluff to get immunity without playing his loop de loop, looking for idols in the first place, etc) 

honestly this was such a fun and innovative game changer episode and i really enjoyed the series! i also think the 2 episodes were the perfect length to capture the essence without drawing it out too much. ugh it was just a great little dip into survivor

[canchewread]

Editor’s note: The War on Sharing is an informal journal about my life as an anti-capitalist dissident in a burgeoning Pig Empire police state, during a time of normalized fascist reaction. Given the deeply personal nature of this writing, please consider citations to be arbitrary, profanity to be praxis, and slang to be artisanal.

The War on Sharing: No More Murderpigs

I'm not going to lie to you, as someone who has been actively warning about Amerikkka's ongoing descent into overt fascism for well over half a decade now, the past couple of weeks have been difficult to watch. On one hand, I am extremely sympathetic to the plight of labor class liberals who just now may be realizing that if their leaders cannot protect themselves from fascist violence, they have little hope of protecting the marginalized, or for that matter the population at large. On the other hand, that sympathy is absolutely tinged with a sense of outrage at a liberal establishment who ignored these warnings at every turn, and encouraged their supporters to mock those on the left giving them; with a few noted exceptions, of course.

Take for example the twin issues of fighting stochastic terrorism, and resisting a politically empowered fascist movement in America. Even before his election and the subsequent fascist coup attempt on January 6th, 2021, Joe Biden was actively "both-sides-ing" violent fascists and antifascist anarchists, while promising to fund and build out the American police state as a solution to the political violence. In response to that fascist coup attempt, the larger liberal establishment once again resorted to demanding more police powers to combat right wing domestic terrorism in broader society; despite the fact that many of the folks most responsible for the assault on Capital Hill, were actually sitting across from them in the Senate and Congress.

Naturally many on the left, myself included, objected to this idea and pointed out the obvious; a so-called democratic society that tries to fight the rise of fascism, by expanding an empowering a fascist police state, is utterly incapable of stopping a fascist takeover. Indeed, refusing to arrest fascist leaders who have committed crimes even while they go about rigging democracy, while arming up and empowering the fascist murderpigs they will control once they seize power isn't just bad antifascism, it's a recipe for violent fascist suppression against anyone who would resist the fascist order even in the future.

Is it leftist hyperbole to say American policing is riddled with fascists? Hardly, unless you think organizations like the Brennan Center for Justice, or the Federal Bureau of Investigation are pinkos; an absurd position that still somehow has a bit of traction in mainstream reactionary propaganda these days. Furthermore, while reformers and liberals will blather on about training and diversity in policing, the simple truth is that even if individual police officers aren't low-key fascist terrorists themselves, the job ultimately puts them on the side of rich fascists, and against those who oppose those rich fascists, as a matter of course. Given the continued rise of fascism in our society, and the growing body of evidence that many police officers in America aren't just sympathetic to violent fascist vigilantes but actually working with them, I think it's simply fair observation to say that the left's criticisms of "funding the police" to fight right wing extremism, have been born out in real time.

Despite this, the recent act of political violence by a radicalized fascist targeting the US Speaker of the House have once again revived the mainstream calls for expanded police power to fight far right terrorism. This is absurd for many reasons; not the least of which being that extra police or police powers wouldn't have made it any easier to pick David DePape out from numerous "conservative" media influencers; they more or less believe and talk about the same odious things. Furthermore, unless these extra police are going to be stationed outside the homes of American politicians, it's a pretty difficult to understand how they would actually have prevented the attack on Nacy Pelosi's 82 year old husband, Paul; an act of stochastic terrorism that was ended by the intervention of, you guessed it the police, and at their current level of authority.

Of course I can't really say I'm surprised that in a country thoroughly saturated by copaganda, ruled by an establishment who seems to believe more police is a solution to every problem no matter which political party we're talking about, folks respond reflexively to a fascist political violence with calls for more cops. What I can say is that when you're watching police violently assault the journalists covering racial justice protests, usurp constitutional power from the U.S government, and actively work to help rig elections for a now openly fascist political party in Amerikka, there's no reason anyone with a brain has to take that position seriously.

If American liberals have any interest in stopping fascism, they should tell their leaders to arrest rich fascists driving this violence while they still have some control over the American police state. Hiring more reactionary murderpigs while giving them broad sweeping powers to root out anti-government dissent, is more or less just building the Gestapo for what certainly looks like a new Pork Reich in our very near future. I encourage those of you who don't want to die under a fascist boot to resist these public calls to "do something" in the here and now, if that something is throwing power at an already violent, objectively fascist police state. Serious antifascists don't arm and empower a homicidal enemy; and we're all out of time for liberal tomfoolery now.  

nina illingworth

Anarcho-syndicalist writer, critic and analyst.

You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog

Updates available on Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon and Facebook.

Podcast at “Kropotkin’s Barbershop” on Soundcloud.

Inquiries and requests to speak to the manager @ASNinaWrites

Chat with fellow readers online at Anarcho Nina Writes on Discord!

“It’s ok Willie; swing heil, swing heil…”

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #5

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: sexism, dehumanization, fantasy illness

Mistress had braided her hair and put it in a bun, which was quite nice on her. She also added some red paint on her lips and gold dust on her eyelids. Kit wasn’t too sure about that.

He looked away before she caught him staring, but:

“What do you think?” she turned her head a bit, showing off her weaving.

“Pretty,” he said. She hummed a bit, looking into the mirror on her vanity. 

“I suppose you couldn’t say it if it weren’t true. What time is it?”

“Nine fifty-two am.” She looked at her watch.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.” She picked out a pair of black shoes from her closet. Flat ones, not one of the pairs of tall shoes, and Kit realized he was a bit taller than her. Huh. He didn’t feel like he was, and he certainly wasn’t yesterday.

Maybe she was wearing tall shoes then.

They stepped out of Iris’s rooms. 

“Everything alright, your majesty?” asked Sir Brennan, as polite as could be.

“Of course. Ms. Mira will be here in a few minutes; we’ll be in Kit’s rooms.”

“Understood, your grace.”

It seemed a bit silly to move across the hall for very little reason, but Kit supposed Mistress valued her privacy.

Ms. Mira was right on time, at one minute past ten. She was tall, and blond, with brown stern eyes and a strong jaw. 

“Good morning, your grace.” Her voice was low in pitch and volume.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about her.

“Hello, Mira. How are you? And how’s your sister?”

“I’m wonderful, darling, and Mina is obnoxious as usual. Something about a muse, she won’t shut up about it.” Mira rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were turned upwards.

“And who are you?” Mira turned on him. “Are you my model for today?”

“He is,” said Mistress.

Mira stepped closer. She cupped his face, a thumb on his chin and two fingers under his jaw. He willed himself not to flinch, but the grip was firm, not painful.

She tilted his face back and forth, her eyes studying him. He averted his eyes, trying to be good, but she tsked.

“Look at me,” she said.

He met her gaze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” She let go of him, and pulled out a notebook and pencil from her pocket.

“Do you always look so pale?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s ill,” explained Iris, “recovering from poisoning.”

“I see.” Kit opened his mouth to explain, but Mira held up a finger. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me. I’ll have to make a new wardrobe for you again anyway.”

She scribbled into her book. “Might as well work with what we have. Have you ever had your measurements taken before?”

Kit shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Right then. First things first, name?”

He tensed. The audacious rudeness of asking for it so blatantly made his nerves buzz. “You may call me Kit.”

“Mhm. Height?” Kit shrugged. She raised a brow, and shut her book with a snap. “I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Mira pulled out a length of.. not quite rope but something similar.

“Stand up straight, shoulders back. No, don’t puff out your chest- here.” She maneuvered him like a doll, and he stood as still as possible.

Mira bent by his foot and slowly straightened, holding the measuring tool to him. She squinted at the number. “Adequate,” she muttered, and Kit didn’t think she was actually talking to anyone but herself.

Mira stepped back a bit, looking him up and down. “Despite the color, your skin is a shockingly good texture and even tone,” she jotted it down. “I’m sure once you’re well, we could do some lovely things with color. Are you wearing makeup?” 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Like this, Kit,” Mistress gestured to her face. “You saw me put it on.”

“Oh. No, then.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mira. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmph. And what do you do day-to-day?”

“He’ll be with me,” interrupted Iris, “as… a companion.”

“So nothing athletic? Good. I assume we’re not talking servant-wear because otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” she chuckled a bit, mostly to herself.

Mira started measuring around his head, then his neck, from shoulder-to-shoulder; it went on. She constantly adjusted his posture- “no slouching, my dear”- but she was gentle in her firmness.

“I’m thinking subtlety, less look-at-me and more tasteful I-belong-here. Thoughts?”

Iris smiled, “Perfect.” 

Kit agreed with her. The less flashy the better. 

“Modest, or do we want to show off a little skin?” Mira turned to him, expecting an answer.

“Modest, please. But, um, I don’t mind skirts above my knees.”

Mira gave him a blank stare. “Skirts?” 

Kit had the sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

“Kit,” frowned Iris, “We can’t have you wearing skirts or dresses. Men don’t do that here.”

“I- I didn’t know.”

“Fascinating, but no matter,” said Mira, dismissive. “We can get experimental another time. Do you know your shoe size?”

Kit shifted. “Do I need shoes?” They looked uncomfortable and rigid. Like they would bite into him every time he kneeled.

Mira opened her mouth, her brow furrowed, but Iris intercepted her objection.

“I suppose not,” she said, “but at least wear socks.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Mira wrote something in her notebook, underlining it twice.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Mira, suddenly more polite, “What do fae normally wear?”

“Um, there’s not... rules. Some don’t wear clothes at all.”

“Incredible. And you like skirts?”

“They’re easy to sew when I wanted something new. I did have some pants and shirts. It’s the gentry that wear complicated things like lace or silver thread.”

“Amazing. Well, I’ll make some mock-ups for formal wear and send you some altered clothes I already have on hand.”

Mistress Iris and Mira said their goodbyes, and she was gone.

“I think she likes you,” said Iris. 

___________________

Just as Mistress predicted, Chef Christine did want to talk to him. The walk to the kitchen was somewhat familiar, and he took comfort in the fact that he might be able to actually find his way around at some point.

The kitchen wasn’t particularly busy, a few people cleaning and prepping for lunch.

“Ah, there you are!” A woman with a white coat that said ‘Executive Chef Christine’ on the breast came towards them.

“You must be Kit,” she smiled. “How was breakfast?” 

“Good,” he said, mildly bewildered. Too many people were asking for his opinion today.

“Wonderful. Let’s talk.” Chirstine led them further into the large kitchen, and Kit suddenly felt a bit cold despite the ovens and lit fires. He shrugged it off. There might be a draft somewhere.

Christine brought them to a small table crammed into the corner, pulling out a chair for Mistress.

Kit sat heavily, his legs a bit tired. It must have been the long walk.

The table had a huge binder on it, full of papers. Christine flipped through the pages until she landed on ‘KIT’.

“So I have ‘no iron or steel’ and ‘no salt’, but I don’t have your preferences.” Christine picked up her pencil. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“Songbirds.” Christine’s eyes widened. Kit flushed a bit. “I, uh, feel bad eating them. They just sing so nice.”

“Oh, um, okay. Anything else?”

“Uh, deer? I have, I mean, had, a friend who's a deer-man so it feels wrong to hunt them. And snakes, for a similar reason.” Christine stared at him, and he fidgeted. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m just surprised! We don’t cook any of those animals anyway.” She smiled, and Kit felt a little better about being so obviously soft-hearted.

“Although I’m a bit curious,” said Iris, “what did you hunt before? No deer seems a bit restrictive.”

Kit looked down at his hands. They were shaking, and his head felt a bit light. 

“Um, pheasant. Turkey. Fish. Boar, if I could get it.”

“How did you manage hunting boar?” asked Christine.

“It’s easier if you have a partner, but a spear works fine if you can drop from above. Just aim for the neck.”

Christine glanced at Iris. “Okay, well, is there anything else you want to tell me? Likes, dislikes?”

A headache was forming between his eyes, the light of the kitchen becoming harsh.

“I could do with less honey… it’s like… drinking wine…” 

“Kit, are you alright?”

“I’m fi-” his throat closed up, and he wheezed, choking on the lie. It hurt, and he grabbed his throat.

Through his blurry vision, he could see the pots and pans on the counters, hanging from the ceiling. All gray steel.

Steel cake pans, cast iron pots, knives, muffin tins. All steel or iron. He needed to get out.

He tried to get up, but his legs fell out from under him.

“Kit!” Iris grabbed him by the arm, and he slumped towards the floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?!” said Christine, and her voice was jarringly loud.

“I- I don’t know!” Iris shook him, and he tried to tell her that it hurt, but he couldn’t.

“Kit, what’s happening?!” 

The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and there were so many people talking now, all the other cooks staring staring staring.

“Dizzy,” he slurred, which was not what he meant to say.

“Get him some water,” Iris barked at Christine. “Stay with me,” she said, and where else would he be going?

“Here,” Christine handed Iris the glass, and she held it to his lips. He shook his head the best he could. He’d choke on it; his tongue was heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” said Iris as fuzzy black spots drifted across his vision. “It’s the metal! Help me get him out!”

Kit stumbled as they pushed and pulled him out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“I’m so sorry,” said Iris, letting him lie down and pant on the cool wood. “I should have known.”

“Don’ wor’ ‘bout it,” he mumbled. Kit closed his eyes. He could feel and hear Iris sit down on the floor next to him.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked. “Every time?”

“Nooo. ‘M just really sick. Won’t… be so… hard ‘n stuff,” he waved a hand, “soon.”

“Very reassuring, thanks,” said Mistress, dry as a bone. 

Kit smiled a bit into the wood. It made his face hurt, so he dropped it.

It was a half hour later when he could finally push himself off the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Iris, helping him up. “It’s my fault. I knew you were ill. Sunlight and fresh air helps, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll show you the gardens.”

“Gardens?”

“Mhm. Come on.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[lightningweilded]

Violet was well aware that both Xaden and Brennan were choosing to weather her anger rather than pushing her and risking her not forgiving them. She could have let him off the hook but the small vindictive part of her was content to let them stew a while. If the two of them, Brennan had committed the worse crime against her but it was hard not to be relieved that he wasn’t dead after all.

She nodded as he agreed that she should just keep telling them Andarna wasn’t giving her much information. She figured it would continue to work for a while, until they started questioning why she had two dragons if one of them wasn’t giving her any benefits. But Andarna would come into her new power anytime now and they’d be able to lean on that, too, since it shouldn’t be any different from every other dragon now that she was grown. But the thought that Dain knew had crossed her mind more than once and she sighed as Xaden mentioned it, too.

“I’ve thought and thought about it the past few days. I don’t know how far he can see back. He’s always said it has to be recent memories, and I didn’t see him close after we found out, so I’m hoping her doesn’t know but I can’t be sure.” If he knew and had told his father or anyone else, Violet would strangle him herself. That was only if his dragon, or Tairn, or Sgaeyl didn’t get to him first. Even the most conventional of dragons wouldn’t stand for their young being threatened by humans and dragons certainly had the advantage. “If he told, I feel like his dragon would have warned them by now. None of them want their hatchlings at risk. Not even the ones bonded to the people who did this.”

She listened as he laid out the story he expected them all to tell and nodded slowly. It was as good a story as any if he wanted to put all the blame on himself, and he was right that there were probably limited people who knew what they’d been sent to do. She didn’t like him taking the whole burden in himself but it made sense. “Okay, that’s fair… as much as I don’t like you having to take all the blame.” She sighed heavily and leaned in to kiss him, because really all she could do for him was give him her love.

“We’ll survive. As many of us as I can keep alive. We’ll teach them like you taught us, and pray for luck.” That was all they could do, and the conversation just dragged her heart back down into the sad, almost hopeless worry that she’d been carrying. She didn’t want to go there or to think of how she couldn’t do what Xaden did but had to try. It was all so broken… she swallow hard, her eyes welling with tears. “Make me think of something else… please.”

So many damned things had changed in the last several months, weeks, gods, days even. Every single thing that Violet Sorrengail knew to be true about her world and the people in it and even herself was thrown out a window and she still hadn’t recovered. It was a hard reality to accept.

Worst of it though was the lies. Even if a part of her understood why not everything had been put in the table while she was still close with Dain, the fact that the one person she trusted with her life, her well-being, and her heart had lied to her up until the last possible second stung her ego. Added to the betrayal of her best friend and the lie of her brother’s death and it was too damned much. She couldn’t even walk away, since Tairn and Sgaeyl were so closely bonded. Even if she tried to run from the knot of emotions that twisted in her gut whenever she so much as glanced at Xaden she’d just have to come right back. It was torture.

“Something new for them to teach riders, then?”

She chose not to engaged with Tairn’s teasing at the moment, flopping into the grass where her dragon would normally lounge. Must be out hunting, lucky bastard. Oh to be a dragon with no one to tell you what to do or where to be…

@ridessgaeyl