#knight rider has influenced my entire life

[el-dorado1982]

Well it didn’t post the first time I tried so take two!

It’s spooky season, so you know what that means! The first of my Knight Rider spooky edits! This one is strictly surrounding Fright Knight, and is to the song by Ray Parker Jr. Ghostbusters from Ghostbusters.

I enjoyed making this, even if it did not turn out how I expected.

So now the only question is; Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters? Or FLAG Operatives? Or as RC likes to say, Phantom-busters!

Enjoy!

Question of the post; (besides the rhetorical one above) April or Bonnie? I personally will take Bonnie over April.

[el-dorado1982]

Thank you for putting this into words. I feel so freaking bad for KITT whenever I remember this. He just wants to be accepted, but when it comes to people he knows will either not accept him from the start or will take quite some time to, he doesn’t bother. He doesn’t want to go through the, dare I say, emotional turmoil, of being seen as an oddity, so he’d rather be seen as just a car with a ‘strange’ (freaking awesome) dash.

Knight Rider angst

“I try not to talk in front of adults. They don’t tend to understand.” - Kitt, episode 1.22

Kitt says this when he’s talking to a five year-old named Natalie. The two become friends over the course of the last episode of season one.

For me, this quote is such a gut punch because it shows you how much Kitt’s grown over the course of just this first season. In the beginning of this season, Kitt really didn’t care one way or the other what people thought of him. But then as time goes on, he learns human concepts such as showmanship (episode 6) and pride (episode 14). But now he’s also learned that he’s not normal, and that whenever he introduces himself to new people he’s subject to disbelief and even ridicule. Just look at episode 17, when the woman of the week is sent by Micheal to go free Kitt from the police impound. She was even told beforehand by Micheal that Kitt talks, yet she is still dubious and awkward. Kitt tries to make small talk and even cracks several (actually funny) jokes but she’s still so weirded out by the fact that he’s a talking car that she doesn’t even try to respond.

People like Micheal and little Natalie are the exception, not the norm, in how others treat Kitt. They treat him like a person completely. He loves to joke around and show off for them. But for everyone else, he’s an oddity. Something to be gawked at. And while Kitt loves attention, he doesn’t like being acknowledged in an inhuman kind of way. He has always wanted his presence to be noticed since episode one, when he corrects Micheal’s “My mission” to “Our mission”.

I just love Kitt so much and I want him to be happy. Thankfully he has Micheal, Bonnie, and Devon, otherwise I would be much sadder about this.

[equestrianempire]

French Rising Star Lars Kersten's Questions & Answers

How unique is this location to you that we are at The Dutch Masters, your house show?

Being at The Dutch Masters is but unique. My horses jumped very well in the Rolex Grand Prix last year, and I’m hoping to do the same for my horses once more this year. &nbsp,

The Dutch Masters is one of the best lighting competitions in the world. To be honest, every Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping Major is considered to be the height of the game. To have a household Major is amazing for me as a French horse. &nbsp,

May you tell us about the animals you have with you and what features make them so unique?

This year, I have a very strong horse wire. Hallilea, my gray horse, is showing excellent shape, having only recently won the Gothenburg FEI World CupTM Qualifier. She did a good job on Friday in the 1.45m school, and I intend to jump her in the Rolex Grand Prix on Sunday. &nbsp,

Therefore, I have a horse named Funky Fred Marienshof Z. I jumped him next day in the Audi Prize and he was twice clear and five on Friday in the VDL Groep Prize. I also have a nine-year-old boy named Chuck Marienshof Z who is very talented. &nbsp,

How should you get your horses and yourself ready for a show like The Flemish Masters?

I make an effort to maintain everything the same and follow their usual pattern. They have been in excellent shape over the past few months, so we are attempting to keep that momentum. They both had wonderful experiences in Gothenburg and Amsterdam, and we can only hope to continue to produce good results. &nbsp,

How exclusive was it to be a part of the Rolex Young Riders Academy, and what did you discover from your time there?

The Rolex Young Riders Academy offers incredible opportunities for younger riders. The program provides you with some insightful insight into the game, particularly from viewpoints that we would n’t typically be exposed to. We visited both the Rolex and FEI office, for instance. They have given us access to a lot of professionals in all areas of our game, which is amazing.

I have had the benefit of having access to some excellent horsemen and trainers through my day at the club, which has helped greatly in my riding career. Another advantage of being associated with the club is that it allows you to enter the top competitions in the world, like here at The Dutch Masters. It has had a significant influence on my job, and I feel very fortunate to have been a participant in the program. &nbsp,

What guidance have you received from a supervisor or motorcyclist for this trip?

My father has had the biggest impact on my job, in my opinion, because he has been my instructor my entire life and I have been based at apartment for the majority of my job. He taught me the fundamentals and has been extremely patient. &nbsp,

Aside from my father, I admire Marcus Ehning because he has always been my hero and a wonderful knight. Even in such a short amount of time, I learned a lot from him during our year together. Jos Lansink has previously provided me with training.

How unique has the Dutch Masters been for the game as the ultimate Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping Major held in honor of the initiative’s tenth anniversary?

The Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping Majors are the best in the world in my opinion. If you look at The Dutch Masters or Tai Geneva, they are the crème de la crème of the game. I attended the Chin Geneva for the first time last month, which was not my first experience. These programs, in my opinion, are one levels above the others. The Degrees are the riders ‘ greatest purpose and a dream come true to win. &nbsp,

Origin: Press Release from the Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping

Photo: Ashley Neuhof / Rolex

Related

Categories: English, Interviews, Jumper News Nederland

Equestrian, Horses, Interviews, Jumper News, Jumper News Nederland, KNHS, Lars Kersten, News, Paarden, Rolex, Rolex Grand Slam, Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping, Ruiters in Orange, Showjumping.

[fantasyforbeginners]

Just wondering, you don't have to answer if you don't want to <333

What are your favorite character dynamics in books and movies? Or character tropes, either limited to one character or affecting character interactions?

Oh I have been waiting my whole life for this question, thank you so much! As always tropes depend equally upon execution (we've all seen them poorly done or read/watched something we Should like, by all means, that just didn't click with us) but here are some of my favourite dynamics / character archetypes w/ recommendations

Dynamics

Platonic Power of Love / Platonic soulmates. Please see: How to Train Your Dragon, Crazy Ex Girlfriend, Loveless by Alice Oseman

Ties into found family, that is my #1. Bio siblings who also choose each other, unconventional extended family dynamics, workplace families, misfit families, just all the found families. Give it to me, every time. Please see: every recommendation on this list, Ducktales (2017), Six of Crows duology, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Grump X Sunshine but like in the specific "Grump has abandonment issues, Sunshine is like a golden retriever or paragon that helps them believe in life again, and the Grump's eventual opening up helps reaffirm / reward Sunshine's belief in people" way. Please see: The Dragon Prince, Inside Job

Mid-20s something who is too young to be a parental figure to the scrappy pre-teen kid they just found but someone's gotta parent the child, they Guess. Please see: vaguely Crazy Ex Girlfriend

Opposite but related trope of Adult trying to protect and raise their Chosen One child, trying to cope with the reality that they can't protect their child and that the kid ultimately belongs to the world. See: Aang and Monk Gyatso from Avatar: The Last Airbender, Christianity (hi Jesus and Mary)

Friends to Lovers. Even if they're enemies, there's gotta be a strong friendship stage / component, or I'm rarely gonna be entirely convinced. (But I'm also on the aromantic spectrum, so that defs influences me). Please see: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Dragon Prince, Heartstopper

Villains / antagonists who are competing against one another or are reluctantly working together. I love the instability, the way it can make one villain work with the heroes, the snideness and differing goals. It's so good. Please see: Trollhunters (Tales of Arcadia on Netflix), Spider Riders (2006)

Platonic or Romantic "I was just going through the motions of my life until you woke me up and changed Everything," I love that transformative shit. Please see: The Dragon Prince, Infinity Train (s2)

Basically just "There are people you haven't met yet who will love you" every time. Please see: The Good Place

Foil sibling relationships, and if it's also intergenerational? Chef's kiss. Please see: Gravity Falls, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Dragon

Slightly more serious older girl and more carefree younger boy. He helps her to lighten up and let loose, she helps him mature. Also angry girl and soft boy. See: every ship I have almost loved, Infinity Train, The Dragon Prince, Peter Pan 2: Return to Neverland (aka where my ideals for love came from when I was five, feminist girlboss movie of my childhood)

Love of any kind transcending death and time, Please see: How To Train Your Dragon franchise, Titanic (1997), Julie and the Phantoms

Loyal dutiful Knight / Lady or royal dynamic. Please see: The Legend of Zelda games

On that note, co-leader character dynamics. They have the same goal and uniquely mirror each other's devotion and drive, they're willing to put duty and share that maturity with each other? Eat that shit up every time. Please see: Shiro and Allura from Voltron if the show hadn't ended up being terrible, The Dragon Prince, Julie and the Phantoms, Roy and Riza from FMA (which I still need to watch)

If there is a big possibly scary creature and they have a tiny human and they love each other, I will fall for that friendship every time. Please see: How To Train Your Dragon, Transformers: Prime

Basically please watch The Dragon Prince if you haven't already, it's everything I've ever wanted or needed in a show.

Character Archetypes

So much of this just comes down to "Selfless leader burdened by duty and responsiblity" just with variations so keep that in mind

Older character haunted by memory / knowledge, knowing they are an unfitting protector to the new younger generation who needs them, re: The Giver by Lois Lowry

Team leader who feels like it's their responsibility to take care of everyone else whether or not that's actually plausible / the case, re: Rayla in The Dragon Prince

Paragons in general, re: Optimus Prime, Aang, Ezran

Strategist leader who is smart as all helll, if a little (or a lot) ruthless, re: Kaz Brekker from Six of Crows

Moses archetype who returns to liberate people from physical or emotional servitude / abuse, re: The Prince of Egypt, what Finn from Star Wars could've been

Character who's a little egotistical and a tad dim, but they really care about / will protect their family and comes through when it matters, re: Alvin from Alvin and the Chipmunks Meet the Wolfman, it was foundational for me; also Louie and/or Dewey from Ducktales (2017)

Driven angry girl with goals who will do anything to achieve them so long as it doesn't mean diminishing herself, re: Jane from Peter Pan 2 was my blueprint, Reagan from Inside Job, MT from Infinity Train

Just any woman with goals (and a man who supports those goals), re: Grace and Simon from Infinity Train until it got fucked up in the best way

Female tough girls and bullies with a softer side, a la Clarisse La Rue from Percy Jackson (not Amity from Owl House)

Exiled / outcast character with a massive guilt complex, re: Aang from ATLA, Rayla from The Dragon Prince

Nurturing characters with fierce tempers, re: Callum from the Dragon Prince

Chosen ones. I know it's cliche and I do not care, that shit can be compelling as hell. Honourable mention to: main character is trying to protect the chosen one (a sibling or friend), or there are multiple chosen ones running around

If they're a really good older sibling I'm probably sold, re: The Dragon Prince, Over the Garden Wall

Soft spot for gentle giants and lancers who can call the protag out on their shit while also knowing when to support them, re: Cyborg from Teen Titans

Grandmothers who have no time for anyone's shit

Women getting to have more 'masculine' roles unquestionably, men being satisfied in more 'feminine' child caring roles, re: The Dragon Prince

Revolutionaries, misfits, anyone rebelling against a system or two with a splash of solidarity as a bonus, again, most of the things on this list. (Milton's Paradise Lost is so fun)

Heroes and Villains who have actual similar personalities and flaws and it's not a superficial "we're not so different," re: Luke and Percy from Percy Jackson

Also that thing fantasy does where like, all the different groups and peoples will pitch in and come together for a common cause, it's so good and I will go for that shit every time. Truly one of my favourite tropes for all time

This might be more general than like, specifics (i.e. characters tending to each other's wounds) and I could honestly do a list like this all about like, Themes I love the shit out of, since I write from Theme first in a lot of ways and character second, but I hope you enjoyed my very specific list!

[aboveallarescuer]

How Dany assesses the counsel she receives and makes her own choices - Attempting to save the Lhazareen victims

I want to devote the beginning of this series of posts specifically for May 19 2020, which marks the one-year anniversary of the death of the queen who inspired so many of us. Even if I don't engage exclusively with the show and its discourse, as a Dany fan, I was also very emotionally affected by what happened. I felt the need to write something for this day, even if not show-related. This meta is a love letter to our brave, compassionate and intelligent queen; it shows the kind of leader she is, the kind of leader the show decided to destroy and the kind of leader that will leave an unfillable void if she also dies in the books. #istandbydaenerys

~

This will be a series of posts meant to show that Dany is open to receiving advice and criticism, but that she doesn't act solely based on what other people tell her to do. On the opposite, GRRM makes great effort to write a Dany who most often merges different viewpoints and/or finds her own solutions to the problems she's facing. I won't include every single decision she ever made (e.g. her decisions at court are often made without counsel and her execution of the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs was already exhaustively and deftly analyzed by other people), but there will be plenty of instances in this series that will prove my point nonetheless. The metas will always have four items: in which chapters the events mentioned take place; what advice she receives and from whom; what were her actions; the verdict (whether she followed other people's advice, ignored/rejected them or did both at the same time).

 Chapter (s): 

AGOT Daenerys VII

The advice Dany receives:

Quaro, Irri and Jhogo tell Dany that "the riders do [the lamb girl] honor"; the latter goes as far as to propose to cut her tongue if her cries bother Dany.

Jorah tries to normalize what's happening by saying that it's how it's always been and that the khal's men claim their reward for fighting for him. He praises Dany's actions at first by saying that she is Rhaegar's sister, but soon afterwards reinforces that she can't save everyone. 

 Dany's actions:

Dany’s hand clenched hard around the reins, and she turned the silver’s head. “Make them stop,” she commanded Ser Jorah.

~

“I will not have her harmed,” Dany said.

As we can see in these passages, Dany uses the limited authority she has to stop the sexual violence she's witnessing. To make sure that she's successful, she consciously changes her manners to convince him:

Dany told him what she had done, in his own tongue so the khal would understand her better, her words simple and direct.

~

“It pleases me to hold them safe,” Dany said, wondering if she had dared too much. “If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.”

There are multiple factors to consider as to why Dany proposed for the Dothraki men to marry the Lhazareen women they were raping:

She was told by Jorah that Drogo's men feel entitled to rape the Lhazareen women as a reward for fighting for him, so she is aware that she is breaking their social contract, even if righteously so.

She doesn't understand what marital rape is because she still absorbs some of her society's patriarchal values uncritically. Also, she still doesn't realize that this is a systemic issue and that she can't pass these women around from one master to another. This sets up her eventual rebellion against Kraznys's deal and her freeing of the Unsullied. Her failure to protect Eroeh still looms large in her thoughts and is part of Dany's reflections on why should she be a queen in the first place.

She considers Drogo "the shield that kept her safe" even though her marriage was forced, so she might expect that things work out as "well" for the other women as well. This is understandable for a 14-year-old who, despite being mature in many ways, is still naive in others.

Perhaps most importantly, her decision to help the women could have been easily overruled by Drogo. She had to think of a solution that would conciliate her husband's desires and these women's best interests simultaneously.

On the other hand, while Dany needs to act tactfully with Drogo, she doesn't do the same with the other people around her:

“Khaleesi?” The knight sounded perplexed.


“You heard my words,” she said. “Stop them.” She spoke to her khas in the harsh accents of Dothraki. “Jhogo, Quaro, you will aid Ser Jorah. I want no rape.”

~

“I claim her. Do as I command you, or Khal Drogo will know the reason why.”

~

“I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon,” Dany reminded him. “It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do.”

~

Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”

Now that she is both khaleesi and the last known Targaryen, Dany knows that she needs to have people's respect if she wants them to obey her and see her as an authority. She knows she has to be firm at times, and that's what she does.

The last quote is particularly noteworthy because of Viserys's mention. His influence on Dany contextualizes the development of her political skills in key ways.

We know right from her first chapter that Dany had to grow up and mature more quickly than a normal child/teenager: she lived with someone with whom she had to carefully consider her words ("she knew better than to question her brother"), even when she disagreed with him ("she mistrusted Illyrio's sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio") or was critical of him ("His fingers toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword in earnest"). Because of Viserys, she had to learn to be conciliatory.

It is also because of Viserys (and the Dothraki, who gave Dany the support she needed to stand up to him) that Dany had to learn to be assertive. Although her brother was "stupid and vicious" and "cruel", he could also be strong-minded and resolute, and that's what Dany held on to. The moments where she declares her titles to express her authority (among other usages) are not only contextualized by the pseudofeudal system that she's part of, but also by Viserys's influence on her (which Dany doesn't accept blindly, she learns the best he could've taught her), hence why you see her using phrases that he used as well. (The difference is that she recontextualizes them - "blood of the dragon" is used to give herself strength in moments of fear and remind herself that she needs to control her emotions to be perceived as an authority; "wake the dragon" is used in moments of great distress, such as when she's furious at Robert's attempt to kill her and Rhaego or when she became impatient with Jorah for constantly trying to isolate her from other men; and so on.)

Dany's handling of her interpersonal relationships with Drogo and Viserys need to be analyzed and contextualized to fully grasp not only this particular moment, but also Dany's entire character development and the politically savvy queen she will become in ASOS and ADWD. Some argue that it was "unrealistic" to see her getting to that point, but I would argue it wasn't at all: her entire life, with all its setbacks and hardships, shaped her to be conciliatory, assertive and resilient and develop the political skills that she did. She wouldn't have survived if she hadn't developed them.

(Just to be clear, none of this is to say that these men were responsible for making who Dany is or that their emotional and sexual abuse of Dany was justified in any way. Indeed, neither Viserys nor Drogo ever had the intention of guiding Dany - her development is hers and only hers. Because of her extraordinary courage and strong moral values, she was able to separate the good from the bad in their influences and be resilient and adaptable all the way through.)

People tend to see this moment solely as a failure on Dany's part because her efforts to help these women didn't pay off. However, to look at these scenes only from that perspective means missing out how they serve as a prelude to Dany's rise as a political leader.

 Verdict: 

Dany's decisions were all hers here and she took them despite everyone else's advice (though she also took Jorah's into consideration when she spoke to Drogo).

[robinwickewitch]

Divination using tarot decks is also known as taromancy or cartomancy. There are hundreds of different tarot decks, dating as far back as the 1300s, and many were used as playing cards before they began being used for divination. Around the start of the 20th century, tarot decks began being designed specifically for the purpose of divination, and it’s three of these decks that I’ll be discussing here.

The first is the Rider-Waite, which is the one most people are familiar with. A 78 card deck with 22 major and 56 minor arcana cards in four suits: cups, swords, wands and pentacles.

The second is the Crowley-Thoth, a deck with many similar cards to R-W, but with entirely different geometric artwork, some key card changes in the major and minor arcana, one different suit, and an entirely different method of reading.

The third is the Akashic deck, which has 62 cards instead of the 78 found in R-W and C-T. Four completely different suits, 22 brand new and completely different major arcana cards and stunning artwork.

Without further ado, let’s explore some of the key differences in these decks and why I use all three. If there’s some interest, I may do some follow up posts on each of the decks, their histories, methods of reading, interpretations and why they are different from each other.

Aesthetic and Influence

You can buy most tarot decks in different sizes, but these are the ‘regular’ size cards for comparison. The C-T deck is smallest and the Akashic deck are largest.

The artwork styles are all very different, and this is reflected in the histories and influences of the cards.

R-W cards are simplistic paintings which offer some key symbols for interpretation. They are brightly coloured and instantly recognisable. They are influenced primarily by European, Middle-Eastern and North African cultures and religion, including Egyptian, Greek and Christianity.

C-T cards are much more complex paintings, with a geometric design which aims to enhance psychic ability, and countless symbols contained therein which offer clues to interpretation. Like R-W, the cards are influenced by European, Middle-Eastern and North African cultures.

Akashic cards are computer-rendered artwork which offer tremendous true-to-life detail and an almost 3D effect. The deck encourages you to get lost in the artwork and watch it move. The cards are influenced by cultures worldwide. Outside of Celtic, Christian and Egyptian influences, there are also influences from Buddhism, Hinduism and East-Asian cultures, among others.

Major Arcana

All three decks have 22 major arcana cards. The major arcana for the Akashic deck have no identically named cards compared to R-W and C-T, and are listed from 1 to 22 compared to R-W and C-T, which list from 0 to 21, 0 being The Fool in both decks.

The major arcana for R-W and C-T are broadly similar, starting with the fool and including cards such as The Sun, The Hierophant and The Hanged Man.

However a number of cards do differ. Some are only minor differences, such as The High Priestess vs The Priestess. Others are more significant, such as Lust vs Justice.

The major arcana in the C-T deck are also treated as a fifth suit of Trumps, or the Spirit cards.

The major arcana for the Akashic deck offer no familiar cards. Cards instead include three Archangels, The Buddha Prepares, Birth and Up In The Air to name a few.

Minor Arcana

All three decks split the minor arcana into four suits. For R-W, these are wands, cups, swords and pentacles. For C-T: wands, cups, swords and disks. For Akashic: roses, keys, scrolls and forces.

All the decks employ some kind of regal characters in each suit. For R-W these are the king, the queen, the knight and the page. For C-T: the queen, the knight, the prince and the princess. For Akashic: only the king and queen.

Both R-W and C-T have an ace in each suit, whereas the Akashic deck simply has card 1 in each suit. The R-W and C-T also go from ace to ten, whereas Akashic only goes from 1 to 8. Akashic uses Hindu-Arabic numerals 1, 2, 3 etc. whereas R-W and C-T both utilise Roman numerals for Major arcana. R-W uses Roman for minors too, whereas C-T uses Hindu-Arabic.

Interestingly, the R-W cards do not have names for the minor arcana I to X; they don’t even have a name for the suit on each card. Instead, the description depicts the object of the suit. Both the C-T and Akashic decks have individual names for all the minor arcana cards, and will tell you explicitly to which suit they belong.

Reading

All the cards have different interpretations depending on the deck. R-W cards may be read as their upright or reverse meanings. They may mean different things depending on the pull (such as for past or future events).

C-T cards are not read inherently differently whether they are upright or reversed. What matters are the neighbouring cards. The cards are all assigned elements. Cards of the same element compound a positive reading. Cards of the opposite element compound a negative. It may also matter question to question what neighbouring cards the characters in a card are looking at.

Akashic cards, like R-W have different interpretations depending on their upright or reverse orientation. However, Akashic cards come with explicit suggestions for action in both an upright or reverse case.

Some Akashic cards also come with additional activities, such as going to a book that calls to you and reading a passage. All Akashic cards come with a suggested method for tapping into the Akashic records, which may provide additional insight into the reading.

Why use all three?

The decks provide very different interpretations. Asking the same questions to different decks sheds different perspectives. Not only this, but I’ve found the decks for me have very different auras and power.

In general, the R-W deck is my neutral deck, for want of a better word. It reads best for the neutral, outward-presenting self in this life, the understood external world and influence, consciousness and the mental and physical planes.

The C-T deck is my shadow deck. It is a much darker and more complicated deck better for understanding the shadow self in this life, subconsciousness and the misunderstood external world and it’s influence, including shadow realms and the emotional and liminal planes.

The Akashic deck is my high deck. It appeals to the higher self, the soul and the quest for enlightenment across one or all lives experienced. It’s an incredibly powerful deck which taps into all time and all knowledge and experience, not just the reader’s, and is particularly attuned to the metaphysical and spiritual planes.

Let me know if you have questions or would like to have more information about the decks. Please reach out also if you use these or other non-standard decks because I would love to discuss!

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Thirteen; Delirium.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-  

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: !!! illness and swooning again in this chapter !!! Fever type dreams that get spooky and deathy

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

                                                       ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

Kylo was losing his mind.

 It’s been known to happen to vampires of certain ages. Possibly ones even older than him, if any such do exist. Alive so long they start to rot and fester in their own bodies.

 Brains blown and shattered apart from all the violence of things they’d done. Drifting and flaking apart like much too dried clay. The horror of the acts some vampires committed to feed. Not everyone could face or stomach it for so long. Drove them cackling into the worst sort of madness.

 He’s seen men fall apart too. Mortal men. He’s seen entire armies and countries of men perish. Losing their heads to the last breath, infected with illness, or pox or the plague.

 Deformed and rotting away already, before death had even come to them. Life clung on to them like some leeching disease. Decaying their bodies before their spirit had left their flesh.

 He’d seen scores of roguish men who’d dallied with pox ridden girls. Perishing with no control nor use of their bodies and no eyesight to help them. He’d seen many many men succumb to it for some cheap penny’s worth of indulgence with some infested whore up against a tavern or brothel wall. Those men end up as dribbling and demented fools. Turned into deformed madmen.

 It was hell. It was as close to any hell as he’d seen. The Black Death. He can remember that aswell. That rot.

 How it bittered the air of every rust red Italian street. He’d been in Italy, in when it first struck. The hacking wet of sloppy coughs until blood comes frothing up.

 Bloated bodies of peasants - men, women, children and infants - swelled green with festering flesh, dumped in the river, clogging up the Arno. Crows pecking at the bobbing corpses, ripping off flesh and eyeballs like wet peeling paper.

 So many bodies-

 Worse than ever, Kylo remembers the stench of plague. Rotting meat writhing with maggots, but candied with something of the human flesh, somehow. He’ll remember it for eternity. That cursed stench of putrefaction cloying the rivers and streets. It would stay seared into him for all his time still to come.

 He recalls how some walled themselves into their own homes. They stayed inside to fester. Or drink themselves to death. Or pray. The illness took all of them before too long - faith or no faith. He could hear the wails of the nearly dead bleed through the thick red walls.

 Blackened fingers, the fever and the boils, the salty sweat of rot and the reeking decay of death in every house. Everything the sick body excreted, be it sweat, spittle or breath, exuded an overpowering stench that he will never forget. 

Whole towns emptied. Abandoned. Their population now lay rotting in the swallowing of the soil. 

 The doctore de la peste roamed the streets with their unseeing round glassy-eyes. In their beaks packed with sweet dried roses, mint leaf and carnation petals. The sickle of it trailed behind them like smoke cutting through the gloom. The ripe perfumery of plague.

 By the end. The river was overrun with corpses. Couldn’t see the water for the rotting swill of flesh and bones. Rats scampering over them feeding. Gnawing. Birds plucking out what they liked to feed on.

 It’s enough of a sight to make a man want to put out his own eyes with a red hot poker after seeing such illness, pestilence and misery.

 It’s happening to him right as of now; in fact. Losing his mind. He’s certain.

 They could mark this, 1816, as the year that he relaxed his firm hold on his sanity. It only took a thousand and twenty seven years.

 It only took the sight of his sweet dove, in his bed, writhing and sweating with fever. Delirious and dangerously ill.

 She collapsed after dinner and he swept her upstairs right away. Mrs Jones sent a note for the local doctor. Sent their bravest rider out on Erland, into the storm by the safest road. Jomar fetches her a cold cloth from the anteroom. Kylo can’t leave her side. He won’t.

 He sits on the bed and watches over her diligently. When Jomar returns with a bowl of icy cold water, stands it on the bedside and wrings out the cloth. Kylo takes it from his offered hand without even casting an eye in his direction. He takes the sopping linen and pastes it across her clammy brow.

 She’s splayed back in his bed, weak and insensate. To hell with liberties. He took the gown and shawl off her himself, and bundled the white cotton and red velvet sheets over her. She sank back onto his pillows. Sprawled limp.

 Her lovely pale face sheened in sweat. Whole body shivering and her breathing was shallow. Brow creased and wrinkled up in pain.

 Kylo’s sitting near. Pulling sticky strands of hair off her cheeks. Hating the sight of her like this. He’s banked the fire and had extra blankets put on the bed. But he’s unsure. He’s never sat at a sick bed for a mortal before. Well- not like this. He’s attended a death bed. But here? He doesn’t know what to do. How to act.

 Her eyes are open but she doesn’t see him. He’s certain she can’t see him or anyone else in the room. She’s dazed. Lost to sense.

 And he’s frantic. He’s mopping her brow but he doesn’t know what good that might do. She keeps twisting her head away from him. Fingers twining into the sheets, fisting them in her hands. Gasping and shuddering breath. Her chest is moving up and down so fast it hurts him to see this.

 Mrs Jones timidly knocks on his bedchamber door. Kylo’s voice is strained when he answers the knock. She comes in. Her face pinched and the very sight of it hurts Kylo’s nonexistent heart.

 “The doctor can’t attend her, my Lord. He’s trapped a county over delivering a baby.” She says breathless and pink from running up the stairs. Her skirts still picked up in her hands.

 That was Kylo’s last hope. He dismisses her with a curt nod. Not ill tempered at her news. Merely overshadowed by this whole room. All this grave pressing silence and illness.

 The very air in here feels tense. Made dry and hot by the fire. Stale with human exertion. And Still. So still with anticipation and uncertainty.

 Jomar returns with another icy bowl of water, a fresh cool cloth. Kylo reaches and swaps it for the clammy warm one. She groans and tries to twist away.

 Kylo soothes her. “Dove. It’s alright it’s alright.” He hushes her as she fidgets and tosses around. Knees tugging under the blankets. Hands still fisting in the sheets. She’s whining. She’s pleading with him. The hysteria has gripped its nasty hold tight.

 “No... no. Ugh. Please. No.” She gasps. Head looming far back. Neck stretched out. Dewy, and by the darkened light of his room, her long supple neck and throat is now shimmering amber. Kylo’s hand take the cloth away and she sighs a lungful of a groan in response.

 “She’s not talking to you My Lord.” Jomar insists. “It is the fever.” He assures Kylo.

 His butler is now washing his hands in the water jug across on the dresser. Scrubbing soap and his nails with a harsh scratching brush that sizzles at his skin. He dunks his hands under the cloudy milk of the water and washes away the soap suds.

 “What do I do?” Kylo’s pleading to them both. To Jomar and Mrs Jones. He looks like a little dark haired boy. An infant. Helpless and terrified.

 Sat there, teetering on the edge of his bed, starry silver tears in his eyes. It might be the only time they’ve seen him truly weak or scared. Wracked with agony with something even he can’t control.

 Powerless to help the woman he loves.

 Mrs Jones knows of that look. She sees the russet sparkle in his Lordships eyes. And it aches her. Sees the pain in his creased brow and displayed in the openness of his face. He is used to having power over so many things - this is not part of his influence. It does not share in being intimidated by him as most things and people usually do.

 This vampires one weakness; terror for the frailty of mortality. That she could and might slip away to a place beyond his mighty reach.

 Jomar crosses back to the bed, takes her wrist and feels for her pulse. His clever kind hands were cool on her feverish skin. Still she shivers in his grasp. He fixes his gaze downwards as he holds her frail arm. Returning it gently to her side when he’s done.

 “Her heart rate is very fast.” He says with veiled emphasis. He then leans up and peers over her face, gently cupping it to see her eyes. “Her eyes are unfixed also.”

 “I think it may be an affliction on her lungs. A chill caught from the rainstorm.” He suggests to Kylo.

 “How do we treat her?” Kylo’s demanding with every note of his voice laced with hope.

 Jomar shares an anxious look with Mrs Jones. “We don’t. Your lordship.” Jomar tells him gravely.

 “We can only wait now for the fever to break. But we can do everything within our power to make her comfortable.” He insists to his Master and friend. Laying a kind hand on his shoulder.

 Lord Ren looks up at him. Lost in his gaze. His silver bangle catches the light. A darting glimmer. Like a silver scaled fish swimming in dark inky waters. His butlers hope and goodness always shone great through the darkest of times.

 Jomars bronzed eyes melt for him like crushing gold honey and warm cocoa. Tries to bolster him kindly for this devastating news.

 “Is there truly nothing I can do?” Kylo chokes out. His voice hadn’t the bravery to rise beyond a whisper. He just had to watch her suffer like this? Twisting and delirious and unconscious with fever.

 “I’m afraid so M’lord. In the meantime-“ Mrs Jones says. Crossing the wide dark room to the window. Batting away the crimson drapes. The battle axe she was is on the warpath. She’ll see this right. Kylo wouldn’t trust anyone else.

 “We might try to keep her cool. Fever burns you up something wicked. So I won’t have her stifled. Loose blankets are best. And we are to mop her brow and her neck every hour. On the hour.” She commands. Jomar nods in agreement.

 “I’ll see to some laudanum for her relief, from the medicine cupboard.” He insists. Bowing his head to Kylo before slipping away.

 Off out the door. Picks up the lit candle holder in his hand from the side. The long ivory taper of it flickers a warm marmalade in the dark of his Lordships crimson room. Kylo watches the glow of it, and him, disappear down the dark hall. Swallowed up into the blackness of the house.

 The treads of his boots crushed silent and dead on the rug in the corridor. The hazy fog of champagne yellow coated the walls of Hellford like thick gold dust. Shining off every polished wood door and dark floorboard. Grows fainter and fainter as he moves away.

 Kylo turns back to his dove. Takes the cloth away. Re-wets it. Puts it back on her brow. He takes it away again once the cool is gone. Replaces the cloth with his own cold hand. All of his fingers dwarfing most of her head. He slips around and cups the nape of her neck and she rolls her solid head onto the arch of his arm.

 She’s so warm it almost burns his hand. His chest aches to feel her that way.

 She protests at the cold. “Leave me.” She sobs. “Leave me alone...” She cries. Eyes shut. Denying him the alluring cloudy grey gaze of those eyes he admires so much.

 “I will do no such thing...” Kylo says lowly. Stroking wet tamped hair off her forehead. Looking at her flushed cheeks which burn hot. He presses the back of his hand to them. To soothe them. The crinkle in her brow lessens a little at his icy touch. The only time his coldness has ever come in handy.

 Mrs Jones grabs the bowl of water from next to him but before she scurries downstairs to replace it she offers. “Your Lordship, I can send for a maid to sit with her. If you need some rest.”

 “I will stay.” Kylo presses. “I won’t leave her side until this wretched thing breaks.” He insists with stony determination.

 He looks back to Iris. Cupping her cheek in his hand. Watching her breathing pant rapid. She leans into his touch.

 With no clear action before him, other than to comfort her. His mind, denied of a task, emptied of all things, now fear began to fill it.

 Mrs Jones says nothing. But she gives him a trembling look of affection that attempts at bolstering him. She takes the bowl and she too pads softly out the room. The creaking whine of the door being softly shut was the final announcement to their being availed of company.

 Kylo turns back to her. A terrible weight squeezing down on his chest. He’s sat at a fair number of deathbeds in his life. He’d watched some human friends fade away. But that was certain. War or disease took them from him.

 This is not certain and it’s killing him all over again.

 It’s that night on the battefield in the snow again and again again. Draegan finding him. Coming across Kylo as he lay dying. The burning dripping searing blood leaking down his side. His wound was by the abdomen. The worst way to die. It could take days. The white hot agony searing his bones in acid all over again. Scarlet snow. Scarlet wet snow everywhere.

 He can remember cool slender fingers cupping his neck. The whisper across his cheek like a kiss of the icy north wind. “You know you will not survive this.” He explained. Unsticking Kylo’s leather gloved hand from the wound that ran along the entire side of his stomach. Silver eyes, like precious moonstones, looking at the blood laying black and thick on his palm.

 To the very last. Kylo fought like a warrior. When he often had resolved, as a Viking soldier, of pondering his own death. He had envisioned a glorious end. Sword in hand cutting down his enemies until his very last breath.

 He never imagined in his wildest dream that death would smile handsomely at him first. Never believed he’d be side by side with the devil - and that he would love him with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

 Never thought he’d love again - until he laid eyes on this beautiful creature. He lusted for her first of all. That instant carnal attraction. But that had masked how she truly made Kylo’s soulless body ache to love her.

 She brought him to his knees. And now he’s choking on his grief.

 “Please don’t leave me, Little Dove.” He begs in a whisper as she writhes and sweats into his bedsheets. Gasping and dulled.

 “Don’t go to the one place I can’t follow.” He begs. Laying his big hand over where hers was limp and stretched out atop the velvet covers. His hand dwarfed hers utterly. But his touch was so gentle. Unsure.

 “I told you if anything happened to you. It would kill me.” He says. Looking at her earnest face. So dewy and flushed.

 “I meant my words. Iris, If I have to spend an eternity without loving you then, I-“ His throat claws up. Suffocating his words. He shakes his head.

 He brings her limp arm up. Back of her clammy hand pressed to his mouth. Nuzzles a kiss to her skin. Tastes the salt of her sweat. Tastes her agony. He’s certain it reflects his own.

 “I won’t leave you.” He vows solemnly. A silky whisper that he speaks into her skin. He always takes his vows seriously.

 Treads rattle louder in the hallway. Coming back to the room. Jomar enters again with the bottle of laudanum and a spoon to hand.

 Kylo will be the one to feed it to her. He gently cups her face and slips the silver spoon to her lips. An oddly intimate act. He feeds the opiate into her mouth, she twists her head and some of it runs down her chin. Kylo wipes it away with the cloth. Taking up the task of the lowliest maid. Seeing so tenderly to her in her illness.

 He’s calmed a little by the fact of the laudanum taking away any pain she might be feeling. Her breathing settles. As does his worry.

 He retires to the chair by the fireside across the room. The same deep wine red velvet as covers his bed. He pulls it close to the end of his huge four postered bed. Drapes hanging heavy down all four mahogany posts. Protecting the pale infirm form of her within. He’ll watch over her from his bedside. Cradled in the comfort of the chair.

 Some ineffectual matronly mama of the ton may argue that this was most improper. A single man watching over the bedside of an unmarried girl. Worst still- an unmarried girl on the brink of an engagement.

 Kylo snorts to himself. Wondering if the deuced snotty boy of a Sergeant would even care that his intended was gravely ill. Probably only cared that she had fallen ill in Kylo’s manor.

 It didn’t matter that she was unconscious and insensate. She was in the very room with a man who compromised her honour, and Hux’s. Making a fool of him. In in Lord Ren’s very own bed, no less.

 Well. Not that either of them were in any fit state to be compromising the hell out of each other. But he doubts strict society will see it that way. This was enough impropriety just being within touching distance.

 One thing that does prevail upon him a tiny shred of bright happiness in all this darkness. Is the fact that he knows how desperately fuming this whole situation would make Iris’s mother.

 Him protecting her. Rescuing her. Keeping her safe. He’s sure the old harpy would be frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog knowing where her daughter was. She’d likely spout out nastiness, how it was all a concoction for the dashing dark Lord Ren to seduce and spoil her eldest daughter. To ruin their hope of an advantageous marriage.

 Little did that termagant know, but it was far too late for that.

 Iris was worked her sweet steady way under his skin from every outing they’ve shared. Every look across a crowded ballroom. Every touch of their hands, gloved or not. Their dance. Their kiss. It was the inferno that brought their affection and regard for each other to a fever pitch.

 She trembles whenever he comes close. When their eyes meet he always feels the delighted shiver that runs the full length of her spine. The blush that prettily decorates her cheeks. Finer than any jewellery he could bestow on her gorgeous body.

 Funny how such a thing as her blush made him think of so many things.

 It made him want to whisk her away in the dead of night. Back to Bavaria. Install her there as the Lady of his castle. Sharing his land. Sharing his title. Lady Ren. He’d have her dresses tailored by the finest Dressmaker in Bavaria.

 Dust off the family jewels and then bedeck her in them. Head to toe. Nothing less would do for her. She’s suffered such a life of penury and scraping together to make her as bait to men for marriage. He’d see to ending that sad facet of her life. He’d let her choose what she wears. Whether or not she had to pay calls or deliver baskets to the infirm.

 He’d let her lounge in a boudoir parlour, reading books, and accomplish nothing in her day apart from having a sumptuous oiled bath if she so desires. He just wants to see her happy.

 He’d open the whole castle for her to explore room after room. Every tapestry. Every oil painting and marble statue. Every suit of armour he’d fought in over the years. Stood proud and polished silver on display. All of it he’d let her have.

 How he misses it... his home. Ranlor Castle.

 He misses the way the castle feels to step into. The scent of it. The edifying old thick stone halls of musty brick and how the smell of green and pine like the forest surrounding it, seeps in every window. Hanging upon the very air.

 He misses the warmth of the fur pelts on his bed on a stormy night. The sky flurrying with snow, wind howling at tiny lead crossed windows. He was so used to hearing the wolves cry out for the moon in the woods at night, as he fell asleep in his big soft bed. Missed the way flame and shadow danced up the thick exposed golden-bricked walls. It lulls him to sleep.

 The locals rightly call Ranlor the ‘devils rock.’ A dark superstition has long lingered over the land ever since Kylo had been in residence there.

 Named because of the way the - many - turrets either end of the castle rear out the landscape like two sharp pale fangs. Looking over all the local villages and tenants. The shadows of those turrets reach far and wide. Everything is eclipsed in it’s shade. Grisly things were said to happen too, in his woodlands. Strong men go missing and not even so much as their bare bones are ever recovered.

 Local folk legend blindly believes when the moon is full, that devils roam the woods. Black wolves turn into foul hungry demons with claws, ready to hunt upon the flesh of men. When the moon is its full eye of pearl in the sky, people are warned to stay off the forest. And stick to their homes. Bolt the doors and draw the shutters. Cower in their beds and listen to the wolves howls rise faintly over the snowy horizon. Piercing through the snow.

 Kylo’s work providing for his lands and Ranlor’s tenants so ably puts shame to most of the rumours.

 He is a generous Lord and master of the lands. Nothing is beyond his notice. He holds a ball for the local villages every year, near Yuletide season. Amidst the bitter winter. The staff bring in great log garlands made from the holly in the forest to decorate the hall. They serve brandy and punch and Kylo mixes among everyone to see how their year has been as his tenants.

 If families struggle, too many mouths to feed. He absolves their rent. Ensures they are kept stocked with food from the castles own kitchen to tide them over- He has no need for it after all. His servants eat handsomely too, Kylo makes sure of that.

 If bouts of illness flourish among his tenants and among those less fortunate than him, he puts up the money for the doctors bills. He takes care of his own. Even if they are not his kin. They are under his protection on his territory.

 He is remarked on being a very gallant and fair man. No one on his land would dare observe that he was frightening and cruel.

 Only if he is gotten on the wrong side of that is. If poachers steal from his lands and steal the food supplies belonging to his people. Or if he sees any drunken men take advantage where they shouldn’t with a passing maiden, outside the taverns. If a violent and ill tempered brute of a man who drinks his families wage away, so much as dares to raise a hand to his suffering wife or children- then does Kylo reveals his nasty side.

 He’s sure there are still gossips that believe the superstition of his home. In local taverns at night over pitchers of ale, some men lean in, to whisper and wonder and gossip if he is entirely as human as he seems.

 He rarely eats. Never drinks to excess. Had never taken a wife and he doesn’t dally with whores. He stalks the forest alone most nights. They sometimes remarked that he was not human. There was little humanity about him. But they never suspected for a moment that the bloodthirsty demon unleashed by the full moon, was in fact him.

 The reason some of the bones of missing men were never found? Because Kylo drains them of the blood and leaves the drained corpse for the hungry wolves to tear apart.

 Kylo ruminates on memories of home as he watches the firelight kiss across her pale form on the bed. Her breathing still shallow.

 “I’d so much like for you to see Ranlor. Little dove. You’d adore it.” He says. Speaking to her as if she were awake to hear him.

 He tells her about the forest. About the bitter winter gales that blow through. And how it thaws so prettily in spring. Woods full of blue hyacinths and pink scented stocks. Sugary and sickly perfume of them in the warm pine of sun-baked air.

 He tells her how she’d like the wildflowers and the baby roe deers and the lake when it’s warm enough to swim in. To dip into the fathomless sapphire ink of water. The graceful swans that dance across the blue waters surface.

 He tells her she’d like the local life. Much like here, people were humble and simple. Salt of the earth. People who make no pretence to be more than they are. How refreshing he finds that compared to all the Janus faced civility. Velvet draped over daggers, and dripping censure that falls from lord’s and ladies mouths, in a savage English country ballroom.

 He describes the villages nearby. On the road to Ranlor. The tall narrow houses built of walnut timber and smothered in white paint. Closely set together on cobbled grey streets. Some of the neighbouring villages were walled cities also. Keeps from medieval times. Set high up in the rocks.

 Quaint little hamlets were dotted along the Bavarian alps near his castle. He tells her of the nearest one to Ranlor.

 Brimming with taverns boasting the most excellent beer and joints of game, roasted on a spit, a flagon and a hunk of meat for no more than a half a gold florin. Cafes and shops there were, a florist also. He recalls the waxy punchy-coloured tulips and how they always always always caught his attention in the window. The striking eye-catching scarlet of them. He likes seeing it, as he often rides past on Erland. Or in his rattling big coach.

 There were coffee houses, bakeries and patisseries selling Austrian cakes and puddings. Butchers or other general stores selling the local cuisine of smoked or cured meats and sausages and cheeses.

 The spectacular wares always for show in the haberdashers window. Great voluminous hats with sprouting great feathers and dripping trimmings galore. Her silly sisters, he fancied, would adore to see such fine frippery. And most of all, there in that precious little village that somehow has found a warm place in his heartless chest, there are always vendors with their braziers, hawking roasted or candied nuts around the town square.

 He tells her how touched he was in her gesture of giving him a paper bag of roasted chestnuts, the day after they first met.

 He admits something to her then; of how he doesn’t often indulge in human food. But those he did eat. The buttery sweet burn of them reminded him of home. Lifting his nose to the bag to smell the smoky nutty scent sent him ricocheting right back to thoughts of that little Bavarian village. It touched him profoundly in more ways then he could say. She could barely spare the capital to buy them and she bestowed on him, such a gift.

 She bought it with her last penny and that truly astounded him. He was a veritable stranger to her then. He is so much more than that now. She’s so much more to him. And him, to her.

 Kylo will see out this lonely frightful night. He watches over her. Hopes the morning will bear better signs. Hopes that the tumultuous storm passes.

 It dies well enough. By the pale pink of a wet lilac and gold dawn, shining over the windowpane and into his chamber. Shrouding his sickbed in rosy gold, she is unfortunately in much the same state. Unchanged. Not progressing nor worsened.

 He sits and keeps a diligent eye on her. Had done all night. He requires little sleep. And so he talks to her. Mops her brow when she starts sweating again. Jomar and Mrs Jones flit in and out. Bringing provisions. And fresh cold water. More laudanum.

Mrs Jones brought him a plate of roasted meats and a glass of wine. It went untouched. She takes it away without saying a word. Gives the scraps to the hounds.

 Jomar checks on her every few hours. With his slight grasp of medical knowledge. They try sending for the doctor again. But he is still unavailable. Fixing broken bones from men caught up in last nights storm. Kylo curses the inflexible man every name under the sun.

 He doesn’t even retire from her side to take luncheon. Mrs jones had tried to tempt him with a grilled chop at breakfast. And still he refused. Tempted him with roast capons and a carafe of wine now, and still he declined. He’d gone longer without food before in his time. It wouldn’t hurt him. Three years he’d once gone without indulging.

 “You need to keep your strength up. My Lord. You’re no good to her if you starve away to skin and bone.” She chides as she carries out another bowl of water. Refreshing it.

 “Hardly likely.” Kylo’s insisting. Tugging at the rumpled linen of his shirt.

 Sleeves rolled and cuffed. Waistcoat he shrugged off some time in the night. Just in black braces, dull boots and dark breeches now. He’s sure he’ll be a malodorous wretch in need of a shave and wash. But he won’t leave her in this crisis. He won’t so much as go to splash cold water on his face. He’s not leaving this room.

 Hellhounds with glowing red eyes and slobbering gnashing teeth, couldn’t drag him away.

 Mrs Jones makes a move to put a matronly hand on her hip and chastise him some more. But there comes a groan from the bed.

 Kylo leaps from his chair and bolts across to her. “Dove?”

 He seeks for her hand. He listens to her breathe.

 It was now a shallow drag accompanied by a slight rattling wheeze when she breathed. The affliction had spread to her lungs. And he knows the opium will have suppressed her lungs as a result.

 A trickle of blood leaves her mouth and smears on the pillow. A wheezing hacking cough comes from her. It’s such a weak sound it hurts to hear it. He mops it away with the damp cloth. Smears at her pale cheek in its wake.

 “Oh no. God no. Iris...” He seeks louder. Trying to see if she responds. She’s limp as ever. Lost to him. Blood leaking from her lips.

 “Fetch Jomar.” He orders urgently to his housekeeper. She runs for the door and brings back the Butler. He checks her over and his face is grave.

 “Your lordship. Her temperature is rising and I believe it appears as if the infection is worsening.” He says softly.

 Kylo’s face falls. His throat bobs with worry.

 He knows she’s strong. She can temper the foul spitting words of her mother. She can temper this. She must. Or he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

 “Will she die?” Kylo asks outright. Face like steel. Eyes wet.

 “I’m not a doctor. My Lord. I cannot say. But she needs a miracle to fight this affliction that’s taken hold. It looks like consumption.” He tells honestly.

 Kylo nods. “I’ll call you both if you are needed again.” He dismisses them.

 They file out the room with sorrowful faces. Such a sweet girl. And their Master is clearly so cut up by seeing her in such a state.

 Kylo wraps his fingers around her hand.

 “Fight it little dove.” He urges her. She was shivering earlier. But now she’s stilled. Sweating and clammy. Burning up more than ever. She was getting worse.

 “Please. Please fight. You’re so strong Iris. My god, you don’t know how strong...” He begs as he cups her hand and one hand cradles the side of her face.

 “The first time I saw you, I saw your strength. Your resilience. You held your head high even though you didn’t want too. I felt your pain. I felt your back breaking under all that strain.”

 Her head stays limp on the pillow. Eyes blind to anything. Shut in unrest. He wishes more than anything that there was something he could do to aid her before this got even worse.

 She looks pallid. Ashen. More so than before. Sweating buckets and more blood leaks out her mouth. He wipes it away with the fresh handkerchief Jones left by the bed. He looks down in his hand and sees the sticky red staining the white cloth.

 Like a bloodied paw print in the snow. It doesn’t even call out to his hunger. He’s too beyond it. This is too perilous. Too serious to measure his animal instincts.

 Blood.

 The room grows cold. All warmth drops as if the sun had been snatched out the sky. Kylo feels the chill pinned along his skin as a ghost of a phantom breeze sweeps over him.

 His cool blood turns to prickling ice. The candles on the bedside flicker, the fire wanes. He knows what comes next. He hasn’t felt this in centuries. He hears the voice, as crisp and as sharp as frost in his head. The voice like silver coins and honey dances into his ear. Notes as fine as a dark deep concerto.

 “Your blood, My fierce one. Or have you forgotten. All life is in the blood.” Comes Draegan’s soothing mellow voice.

 The tone that was like feather down and silk to listen to the way he crooned. Every part of his manner was charming. The deep of his sharp eyes was piercing. Intoxicating.

 Kylo’s not been alongside mortals as Draegan had. He was a healer. Though he was a demon, he always conceded that there was no death without life. All life as such, is therefore to be treated as precious. Humans fascinated him. And he moved freely and happily among them. Whereas Kylo scorned most all of them.

 He strides from the bed to his unused escritoire across the room. Situated by the window for light. Not that he had any letters to write or close acquaintances to send them too. He considered leaving notes for Iris but there’s always a risk his letters would be discovered. He’s got a stack of them all written - tied up with a grey silk ribbon and hidden away.

 He rifles through his drawers until he finds it. A knife. A silver dagger with a weighted carved handle. He rounds the bed again, crosses to her and sits near her hip. He holds out his left hand and rips the knife across his index fingertip.

 Crimson beads up. He holds his hand aloft and watches it drip. Looks back to Iris and gently cups her face.

 “I know this won’t be pleasant. But it will help.” He tells. He doesn’t even feel the sting of pain. It’s nothing to him. Nothing to the pain of seeing her suffer like this.

 He gently holds her cheeks and rubs his bloodied fingers across her dry lips. Smearing crimson onto her tongue. She frowns and tries to move her head away, mumbling in distress. But Kylo doesn’t relent until he’s sure his ichor coats her tongue. Slips silken down her throat.

 He takes his hand away and rubs the blood from her mouth that spilled down her chin. Leaving her as pale as she was before. The rose of her cheeks still glares awfully bright.

 He bunches the cloth around his hand. He’ll heal up in no time. He wishes he could say the same for her. Only time will tell...

 He holds her hand. Strokes over her dainty little clammy knuckles. “Twice now he’s saved you.” He remarks to her.

 “If I didn’t know him any better....” He sighs, trails off in his words. The very breath gets punched from him. To what end could Draegan be saving her? Whatever for?

 One idea occurs - it’s because he’s felt all that she means to him.

 That tears agony at him like animals claws tearing down his chest. Shredding flesh. When he thought how he turned his back on him, and scorned his love. And here he was, centuries later, calling out to keep her safe. To protect her.

 Kylo lets himself feel shamed.

 Ashamed for the ways he bypassed his feelings for Draegan, and let anger fill him so completely up instead. Now he’s met Iris? He understands what he put Draegan through when he left. Because she might leave him now, and he thinks he might just wither away to ash, to nothing, for agony of loving her so much. Unable to help her through this pain.

 Though now, perhaps he’s given her the catalyst to help her fight what ails her. He can only wait. And pray.

 He paces the room. Paces and then sits. And then he’s treading worn holes in the floorboards again.

 Before he knows it, night falls again. He watches out the window as the sun bleeds into blue.

 Night washes a filmy indigo over the landscape. Trees turn to dark gnawed fingers of branches. The grass shimmers with evening dew and the pond out front in view of his window, turns to gloopy blue ink.

 He stands with his back to her. Surveying the view out the window. Arms folded behind his back. He’s listening to the fire crack and the wind groaning outside on the cold glass, splashing hard against the house. And suddenly she speaks. Gasps out. Cries out.

 “So cold.”

 He whips around fast. She’s twisting from side to side and he sees the fire sheen off her brow. She repeated herself “It’s so cold...” He hastens to the bedside and takes her hand again. “Iris?” He asks.

 She’s still dazed. Still delirious. Twisting her head on the bed.

 “Snow. And blood. Why is there....so much blood...” She frowns. Her face all contorted. Her palms knot her fingers into her pillow. She’s writhing again.

 Kylo looks down at her. Puzzled.

   ~

   Her reality had became quickly spliced with odd fevered dreams.

 Snippets of actuality broke through the haze. She felt herself fall after she stood up from the armchair after their intimate dinner. She dropped but her body didn’t hit the floor. She’s moving again. And those lovely strong arms of his, are around her.

 She’s burning. Was she on fire? That’s what it feels like. She’s dripping sweat and trying to claw at her dry throat. Loosen her strangling clothes. Get some blessed sweet cool air on her skin.

 A cold chest she’s cradled into again. Widest muscled chest she’s ever beheld. And she’s moving. Her eyes are shut, it’s all dark, yet she feels weightless. Being carried.

 Then it all goes soft. She’s laying on velvet as gentle hands guide away clothes from her body. She’s aching so much her bones ring with it.

 She tries moving but she feels cemented. Every word she tries to croak is difficult. Making speech is like trying to let thick hot syrup drip off her sticky tongue.

 There’s this pain in her lungs. A thousand knives stabbing in when her chest expands. Kind hands touch her arm and her head. Their warmth scorches her already blazing skin. She tries to wriggle away. But she’s too weak. Her body won’t comply to the requests of her mind.

 There’s feather and down at her back. It crinkles and crumples, and she’s relieved the bed is so cool. Something bittersweet is dropped down her throat. Trickling down her melting tongue. She barely feels the rest. She drifts in and out.

 And the thing is, she’s not entirely sure she’s alone. She hears voices. A voice. Dark, deep, like a granite walled cave.

 She can’t feel much. But she feels cold thick fingers wrap around hers. She knows who those might belong too.

 The fire in her blood doesn’t stop. It doesn’t wane. She feels like she’s drowning and she’s not even in the rain anymore. Prickles and knives and all manner of horrible sharp things stab at her chest. Spears, lances, thorns and needles.

 It feels like her lungs rattle with poison and shards of broken glass. She wants to cough but it’s too much for the infirm state she’s in.

 In between her swimming head and trying to crack open her heavy eyes. Between bleeding crimson and a blazing twitching flame she can make out very little.

 Time and sensation are lost to her. But she feels how someone diligently holds her, cups her face, cool on her cheek, feeds her spoonfuls of water so she doesn’t dehydrate. Dribbled water and laudanum - spiced with honey and saffron to cut the bitterness - down her neck with a cold silver spoon perched on her lips.

 The dreams are the worst. She dreams about rain. About rivers and heavy crushing things, tar, black and rotten, squirming on her chest. Crushing her.

 Of fangs ripping pale flesh off bleeding necks, how that haunts her. Wine red blood and she’s laying in a sticky hot pool of it. Unable to move.

 Foul black demons with claws and leathery black wings and red eyes, drooling maws with gnashing teeth rip at her nubile skin. She screams but no sound comes. They throw her screaming into hell and brimstone, and the flames lick higher around her.

 She’s dying. She must be dying. She can see it. Lying under a chiffon veil draping her body. Dried white flowers, rustling and dead sweet, are placed on her chest. Hands crossed over her chest. A figure in hooded cloaked black looms over her.

 She squirms. She tries to bat them away. Tries to twist out their reach of these monsters. She calls and begs them, but to no avail. Cold splashed on her again. On her brow and on the back of her neck. She sighs and gladly welcomes it.

 A low melodic buzz murmurs in her ears like a thousand bees zipping and bobbing about her head. She can’t understand what it is. But it’s somehow a nice sound to listen too.

 It causes a gentle hum to seep into her aching bones and calms her heavy head. It’s like a balm. Salve on a wound. She doesn’t realise that it’s Kylo talking to her.

 When the fire in the hearth across the room crackled and spit sparks up the chimney, it felt like splits opened in her skin, forming like cracks in stone, and insects crawled out. Black scurrying beetles, She started itching at her arms. Clawing. But nothing was there.

 The cold soothe of her harbinger of peace is there to hold her hands and stop her nails raking her flesh away.

 More voices move around her. Tumbling around the air in the room. Cracking and snapping like zapping silver lightning and thunder. The mumbling grows in volume. Slithering along her spine. One of her arms feels like it’s been left in ice water - it’s where he’s holding and kissing her. Begging her to fight it. Pleading with her.

 She’s so tired. So wrung out. She just wants all this pain and fevered madness to stop. She’s soaked through to the sheets and her skeleton grates with ringing hot agony whenever she dares to move. She’d cry if her brain would grant her that meagre request.

 Her lungs have worsened. She knows it. Filled and clogged with dry sand, and salt. Sluggish and wet like a briny beach. It rattles when she breathes, and something she can’t name dribbled out her mouth. Drooling onto the pillow. She doesn’t know that it’s blood.

 She only knows that she’d quite like to fall away to her fever dreams and never come back.

 Iris so wants the lingering darkness to take her.

 However, one tiny shred of her feels cheated; she would’ve so liked to kiss Lord Ren again. One last time. The nicest thing that’s ever happened to her. She’d have liked to have tasted his kiss and drown in his loving attentions just one more time. Just one.

 It didn’t seem like a lot to ask of fate. Seeing the crummy hand it had dealt her in her wretched little life, thus far.

 Time passes. She’s not sure if it’s seconds, or minutes. For all she knows she may only have been lying insensate for an hour. Or it may have been days. Weeks. She can’t focus. She could have been lying stretched out there for Methuselah’s lifetime. She’s none the wiser.

 Then something else happens, something unexpected. Something wet is pushed past her lips. Only it isn’t water. And it isn’t the bitter saffron alkaline of laudanum.

 She doesn’t recognise this taste; it’s salty sweet. Hot metallic, and a blend of sour-saccharine burst. She doesn’t recognise it. It’s not unpleasant. But it’s not what she’d describe as palatable.

 She tries to twist. But her head is thumping and those flames are curling at her toes again.

 And then some distinctly odd things begin to happen. Even more odd than demon dreams or the bugs crawling out crevices in her skin.

 Where she swallows, the substance dropped in her mouth starts rolling down her throat. Carving away the pain in its path.

 Before long it reaches her swollen lungs. Slowly. One by one, each knife and needle, shard of glass, spear and lance is dragged out of her. Pulled away. Tugged out her pinching flesh. Relaxing her ribs.

 Gradually, all her pain lessens. Stickiness in her lungs, grating of her shallow heavy bones. It all fades. Agony slowly dies like a starved candle flame.

 The unknown liquid rolls through her like milk and crushed honeycomb. Ambrosia nectar. It tastes like gold. Like sunshine warming her bare skin after feeling nothing for months, but cutting winter frost.

 Fever dreams start to come back in full force. And they feel more real than before.

 She opens her eyes and there’s suddenly snow. It’s cold. It’s so very cold she’s shivering. Standing there, looking around a milky snow blotted forest.

 The trees around her reach vast, thick and tall. Trunks wider than her body. She cranes her head and she can’t even judge the tops of them. It’s just foggy grey up above. Heavy snowfall closing in.

 But all around her there are splotches of dark seeping in the snow. Dark jagged shapes lay misshapen in the thick thick icy drift.

 She feels it all. The squishing shift of the powder beneath her feet. Cold little stings of flakes melt onto her cheeks and eyelashes. Turning to tears that rain dewdrops down her skin. Her breath spirits silver out her mouth.

 There’s no stars up in heaven. No moon. Not tonight. Nothing to cast over this glum gloom and darkness.

 Noises patter and clang in the distance. Metal scrapes and hollow clashes. She peers around her and that’s when she comes to realise what all those shapes are...

 Bodies.

 Laying dead and still in the snow. As far as her eye can see. Men lay broken and scattered across the forest floor. Clad in simple dark armour. All wearing the same crimson coat of arms: blood and death litters them. That is their uniform.

 Crimson is still shimmering down the bark. Splashed there from the slash of swords across parts of anatomy she didn’t want to think about. She cannot imagine how her brain can conjure up such carnage. Such mayhem and suffering.

 Seeing a thousand, or more, dead men, pulled and carved to pieces. Violently separated from limbs, or heads or legs. Bleeding into the snow. Slumped sat against trees or piled on each other. Some studded with arrows. Some not.

 Splayed where they’ve fallen. Viscera exposed, stubby limbs chopped in half. Throat slit. Holes punched in their chests and bloodied organs tumbled out. Some men held it in their arms like dirty washing. It’s an awful thing to witness. Such savagery.

 What kind of beast could cause this? Could leave men dying and dead in this horrific way?

 She scans around. Unable to fathom it. These poor souls. Mouths gaping. Eyes wide and staring, unseeing, at the clouded heavens. Like sticky pearls shimmering in the dark. Death hadn’t been long in taking them. The blood leaving them is still warm. She can feel the blaze of it under her feet. Melting the snow.

 She sees no movement in the trees. Save for the snow heading down from high above. Settling like natures own confetti on all these fallen soldiers. Weeping over them, yet nothing else can be done but show them to their graves.

 Then she does make out something.

 A tall, lean, and strong figure moves through the trees away from her. Strong trunks of long legs. Sinewed arms. Even in his dazzling armour. Slender. So slender and elegant for a man. Most men lumbered. This one practically glided.

 Though he is scarcely standing out amongst them. Silver and white. Clad in brilliantly kept armour. The only thing that stands clear is the crimson splattered across this soldiers body. Gleaming down his silver armour. He comes to a standstill.

 If he was the last man standing; she suddenly realises with horror exactly what that means in odes to all the death surrounding them.

 She moves slowly towards this destination. Somehow desperate for a look. In the dim, she steps carefully and slow over the slaughter of mangled bodies and crimson hot snow. He has his back to her. Now she can’t see his face.

 She crosses this battlefield. Comes closer and closer. As if stalking a cautious stag.

 He was devastating in his height. Lean but not a man to be mistaken as being powerless. A long bloodied sword drips from his left hand. Even in this suffocating slim darkness, the curtain of white hair spilling long down his back is entirely obvious. Like a silk curtain. It’s braided too. Twisted into intricate plaits. Fixed with silver cuffs and wound with jewellery.

 There are silver coiled serpent decorations wound around some of his braids. They gleam in the night like far off stars. He moves as devastating as a supernova.

 If his hair moves like silk, so does he. Movements so supple yet languid. Certain. A great degree of confidence.

 He turns his head. She hopes to catch a glance of his profile. Wanting to see if his face is as handsome as his hair, or his impressive built frame.

 She’s curious. Somehow this is familiar for her; this white haired stranger.

 He turned only a fraction. Not enough for to show her anything. Not his face. Not his eyes. Though it seemed he was looking in her direction. She’s been caught.

 She freezes entirely and a smooth voice dances like honey wine and satin across the butchered dead and the snow.

 “Go back to him. Little spark. He’s waiting for you.... this isn’t how we meet.” He tells her.

 She cannot contest. She can’t even fight. Or speak. White fog swallows her up. Clouds her eyes. The blood and the soldiers and the snow falls away. Like she’s being dropped out of a white haze and sent tumbling down to mushy blackness. Spat out of heaven.

 She falls. Jolts. Her heart leaps in her chest as adrenaline spikes through her body. She gasps...

 And then, miraculously, she finally wakes.

  ~

   She stumbles back to life with a rattling gasp. Kylo didn’t even hear it. It was nearly ten at night. He’s sat by the fire in his bedchamber, watching the logs within crackle and sinking and burning to amber and ash. Unaware that she’d opened her eyes until;

 “Kylo?” Comes a weak little voice from the bed. Her voice.

 He stands and turns so fast his head swims. “Dove?”

 He strides so quick for the bed it makes her dizzy. He frets about stupid things, like the fact he hasn’t washed and shaved. He’s been too occupied in his avowed duty of sitting and watching over her sickbed.

 He kneels by her side. Happily cups the cheek closest to him. Her eyes are clear, hooded, but clear. No longer shimmering bright with fever. And her cheeks have calmed. Less glaring red heat, now just a kiss of pink.

 He places his knuckles on her forehead and had never been more relieved to feel her cooled. She shuts her eyes and smiles. Appreciating his touch. Savouring it.

 “My god. I thought I’d lose you.” He insists quietly when she opens her eyes again. He takes her dear sweet hand and kisses it.

 She takes a lot of energy to swallow and unsticks her dry cracked lips to answer him. Smiling. “Might I trouble you for some water?” She croaks. Her voice a strained crackle bleeding out her throat.

 He pours it himself. Hands it to her. Helps her sit up a little and tip the glass to her parched rosebud lips. She takes dainty gulps of it. Drains the glass and has enough. It’s not overly cool, but Iris swears it’s the best thing she’s ever drunk.

 He mops her brow again when she’s finished. Wipes the wet coils of hair away off her brow. It feels awfully nice and even though it’s shockingly intimate. She relaxes back onto the damp pillows and lets him comfort her.

 “How long was I?-” She seeks.

 “Two days, little dove.” He tells her gently. Placing the linen cloth down where it belongs. She swallows again. Refinding her lost voice. “It’s almost eleven at night.” He answers.

 “I’m afraid I’ve been a dreadful imposition on you.” She starts. Picking nervously at the covers.

 Kylo’s smiling again. Yesterday everything had been so grim he thought he’d never crack a grin ever again.

 “Think nothing of it. I’m merely happy to see you so well recovered.” He says as he squeezes her hand tighter.

 She casts her eyes for a second over the way his chin is flecked in onyx stubble. The way shadows linger under his eyes like heavy saddle bags. His hair doesn’t look unkempt. But his shirt is rumpled and faded cologne lingers around him. He’s been worried about her, than his appearance.

 “You need rest and sustenance. Fevers leave you weak. So I’m told.” He reaches for the head of the bed and pulls the bell cord. The hidden crimson panel of fabric that called down to the kitchens.

 “I wouldn’t turn down a cup of tea.” She sighs weakly. Beaming gently. No self respecting English woman would dare seek after anything else so fortifying.

 “I imagine my housekeeper will furnish you with a banquet.” He suggests.

 “How do you feel?” He seeks. It hasn’t escaped her notice his hand still twines through her own. It feels awfully nice. Cold. But not repulsive. She felt his touch even in her fevered state. It’s calming.

 “Like I’ve been kicked by a horse.” She sleepily admits.

 “Jomar said the affliction was on your lungs from the sound of your breathing. Do you need anything for pain?” He asks.

 “I Thank you. I am well. I cannot deny the fever was.., draining. But, it was the vivid nature of the dreams I couldn’t stand. It all felt so, real.” She confesses.

 “Delirium can be an odd beast.” Kylo agrees. He’s suffered blood delirium before. And that was like his own skin trying to willingly crawl off his own bones. It was beyond dreadful.

 “The most odd one was... wandering through a forest. After a battle, I think it was. Horrible. Such death and slaughter. And then I saw this man through the trees. A tall man in silver armour...”

 Kylo’s eyes are glistening dark. She carries on.

 “He spoke out to me. I could never forget his voice it was-“ She searches for a word. “Melodic. Nearly. Utterly enchanting. And he had this hair, very long hair. It looked like white silk.” She explains.

 “What did he say to you?” Kylo’s asking. Knowing full well what she saw.

 “Told me that someone was waiting- And it... wasn’t how I would meet him?....” she declares. Finding the whole thing bizarre. Then again; what sense could be made out of perplexing dreams?

 She looks bewildered. But Kylo knows the truth in it. He knows the various demons and reasons behind her channeled thoughts. His blood had taken its toll too.

 “Dreams are confusing at the best of times.” He states in comfort. She nods in agreement. But she looks like she barely has the strength to hold up her own head.

 She clasps his hand back. Her fingers and little strength she possessed, held onto him. “I’m very glad you were here.”

 “I’m always there for you. Iris. And I always shall be.” He promises.

 “What I did, scampering out into the rain like that. It was so foolish of me. And I don’t like to think of myself as acting like a fool.” She starts.

 “I thought I was going to die it hurt so much. But I didn’t want to. Because I didn’t want to leave this earth - without kissing you one more time.” She explains.

 “I know I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t even think it.” She swallows weakly.

 Twines her fingers through his. Clutches onto him all the more. Showing him the depth of her affection that she had always smothered deep down. She doesn’t want to suffocate it anymore.

 Kylo sees the wet of tears in her eyes.

 “I’m very glad of your improprietous wishes. They well reflect my own.” He admits. Kissing the back of her hand. He wouldn’t throw himself and his passions upon her whilst she’s recovering in a sick bed. He’s not that much of a letch.

 The door creaks open across his chamber and Jomar is the one to answer his summons. Kylo twists around where he is knelt. And when his butler sees his smile, and the calm of his expression. He hears his sigh all the way across from the door.

 “Might Miss Ashton have a tray of tea and some of that broth Mrs Jones had cook prepare?” Kylo asks.

 Jomars smile lightened up the whole room. “I shall fill the kettle myself. Your Lordship.” He beams. It makes Iris smile wide too.

 “Thankyou. Mr Jomar. You’re very kind.” She rasps across to him. He nods a grateful smile.

 “Ever your attentive servant. Miss. You got his Lordship to crack a smile for the first time since the dark ages. I feel like we ought lay roses at your feet.” He insists.

 “Just the tea. For now.” Kylo reiterates.

 “And might I ask you keep an eye on Miss Ashton whilst I retire to my washroom for a moment?” He informs.

 “Yes of course. Your Lordship.” Jomar steps into the room and aside so Kylo may pass.

 He squeezes her hand in comfort before he slips away. Off to go shave and wash himself and redress in a clean pressed shirt. And new breeches and small clothes. He felt quite rumpled in his current dress.

 The kind butler lingers by the bed. Handing her some more water even though she hadn’t requested it. She needed it. He could tell.

 “You all like his Lordship a great deal...” She comments.

 Jomar can’t deny it.

 “We love him. Miss. Though he may be stubborn and pigheaded sometimes. And most think him to be arrogant or savage. We are, all of us, so very proud to serve his house and his title.” He insists with not so much as a hint of false note to his tone.

 “He depends on you a great deal. It’s nice to see a man and his butler on such friendly terms.” She states.

 “We do make fun of one another. But it is enjoyable in its own way. He teases me. I rib him. And demand a payrise if he steps too far over the line. I have to remind him of his place...” He jokes in detriment. It draws a laugh from her.

 “If I may speak candidly. Miss Ashton. And do censure me if it is above my place to say so; but he admires you a vast vast deal. In a way I have seldom seen of him.” He openly admits.

 Iris’ heart feels like it wants to burst. So crammed full of potent emotion. It made her chest glow warm.

 “I could never censure anyone for such a admission. Mr Jomar.” She gives him a wobbly smile so full of love. Moved by his plea.

 “And I feel you should also know he hasn’t left your side these past two days. Hasn’t left this room. He administered medicine. Water. All himself. He didn’t even take the time away to eat or bathe.”

 Her eyes water. “So you see? He really is the most stubborn man. I doubt he’d have let that illness take you either.”

 “Most stubborn.” She agrees. And she cries happily. Heart so bursting full at the seams, of love for him.

 Seeing how much his staff admire him. How he’s surrounded and inundated by people he warmly regards. How respect from either party cuts both ways.

 He’s the most honourable man she’s ever had the good fortune to meet. She can’t ever imagine how or why she had once considered Lord Ren a monster.

 For her heart is quite sold to him.

    ~  ~  🥀 ~  ~  

[ofsigrids]

hello  my dearest fellow writers ! i’m  eden,  my pronouns are  she  /  her  &.  reside  in  the  est  timezone.  i’m  so extremely excited to be here and apologize for this being late & a little vagueish being insanely busy right before christmas. without further ado though let me introduce you in part ( there will be a google doc coming with prettier things trust me! ) to the second love of my life - Sigrid!

synnove karlsen, 25, aryndale, cis-woman. ––– i believe that is sigrid dudley nee thrane, the duchess of limburg. they are twenty five years old and are known to be very captivating & perspicacious, though they can also be very enigmatic & calculative. they remind me of flowers raised from killing fields tended by hands that know their cost, words whispered into the ears of mighty men and to magnificent beasts and the elegance and grace of a wildly capable woman.  tw mentions of death, war

I. ━━ GENERAL.

NAME : sigrid gisela dudley nee thrane . ( if you are a friend you can call her siggy )

AGE : twenty-five. 25

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN : aryndale.

FORMER TITLE / S : none.

CURRENT TITLE / S : lady sigrid dudley, duchess of limburg

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN : scorpio. scorpio sun & taurus moon.

II. ━━ PERSONAL.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : heterosexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : heteromantic

PERSONALITY TYPE : infj, the advocate.

MORAL ALIGNMENT : neutral good borderline true neutral 

HABITS : a knowing look, biting her lip, quiet but extremely detailed observations

SINS : lust  /  greed  /  gluttony  /  sloth  / pride  /  envy  / wrath

III. ━━ TRAITS & PERSONALITY.

cowardly     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ●      brave

energetic    ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     lethargic

forgiving     ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      vengeful

charitable     ● ○ ○ ○  ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     selfish

authentic     ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      deceitful

chaste     ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○      lustful

humble    ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○     boastful

naive     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ●      experienced

cautious     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○      daring

restrained     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○ ○ ○     bold

trusting     ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ● ○ ○      suspicious

IV. ━━ PHYSICALITY.

HAIR COLOR : dark brown ( depending on the time of the year it does get lighter )

EYE COLOR : dark brown.

HEIGHT : 5′5.

WEIGHT : 120lbs

BUILD : ectomorph.

ACCENT : slight. vaguely scottish in nature

PITCH : middle register. an appealing almost silvery tone that does get a little melodic when she talks faster but not sing songy

SCARS & BIRTHMARKS : Most noble women have fairly dainty hands, skin unblemished and untarnished by the ravages of hard work. Sigrid’s hand though softer and faded, are scarred. she grew up an orphan in a mountain village taken in my their horse master needless to say sigird grew up knowing a hard days work. Sigrid also served as a scout / spy when aryndale joined the war before she married the duke of limburg so our girl has scars.

V. ━━ BIO  POINTS.

Before there was a great lady of limburg, before a duchess once again wandered the halls of house dudley, before there was title to her name a girl had none. Sigrid had no family, no family name, no relatives to call her own but a simple point of origin. A girl was born for all she knew in the village of thrane high in the mountains. Who her parents were, whose blood ran through veins she couldn't tell you but a babe was taken in by the horse master and his wife. They would raise a young woman to survive her world and she she thrive no matter her start in the world. They would teach her about Aryndale's greatest treasure. Horses.

She grew up learning the secrets of the great beasts, marveling at such magnificent creatures learning she preferred the company of the animals more than people and her adoptive father saw she had a way with the massive animals. Even the most wild and seemingly untamable of mustangs calmed at her touch, continuously risking her life to tame wild horses. In another life Sigrid often wondered if she had been a great mare that had ruled the countryside with a great mob at her back when men did not inhabit these lands just yet as if she were the legends ever aryndale citizen knew. It was no idyllic existence, no wonderful youth like many women of her eventual station would have tales of. It was many years of learning a trade, of toiling with rugged earth and stone to carve out an existence and the expanding of the horse masters influence in the surrounding areas. Weeks were spent on occasion by the side of the hunters leaning the ins and outs of the mountains and its passes and the secret places to find game to feed the village that was her home.  It was many days of whispering words into the ears of massive chargers, the hearty aryndale steed breed for war and peace both filling them with ideas of being legendary and of the things they would one day accomplish even becoming the mount for knights and kings. It was hours of the horse master's wife teaching her etiquette and proper manners despite a girls desire to run off and join a traveling band of merchants or entertained ideas of becoming a warrior. Either way they would ensure she'd be capable of living a lie of her choosing. It was an unfortunate thought they both shared that she'd make no man any real wife destined to be a spinster no matter the attention the boys in the village paid to an orphan girl.  They doubted war would come to pass and the village of Thrane would continue on as it always had and the horse master and his ward would work to supply the nobles of aryndale far and wide the best horses there were and provide their services as farriers, trainers and on occasion as trick riders. Sigrid did love it no matter how hard it was or the challenges every day presented with it would of course give her an edge later in life

She was a fine looking thing at sixteen, a mane of hair as silken as a prince's mare, a backbone to her and the complete availability to do whatever she wish. The threat of war consistently loomed over head like storm clouds that refused to release their rains and with such a close proximity to it potentially. When it did come to the borders of Aryndale her caretakers knew exactly where she would run to. Directly into the thick of things, to war, to serve king and country and protect a village entirely too close to the war. Sigrid lied about her age when she enlisted, declaring she was eighteen and due to the wealth of information she had was placed directly into a scouting position under the charge of duke dudley's son.

Would you believe that in the middle of a war against incredible odds in the thick of danger and death constantly two people were capable of falling in love. Sigrid Thrane as she called herself now, as it had been signed on her contract served as a spy and a scout had more than a dozen times saved her commanding officers life. Three full years was spent in freezing rain, in mud and dirt covered in blood and the constant threat of death together and two universes that had no possibility of colliding before became intertwined. In close quarters the two increasingly sought out each others company. The duke's son would tell her about his home, about the land he was eager to get back to and she would whisper of fairytales, horses and military strategy. They talked about lives after the war if both survived being so close to the front lines and he asked her after three years od serving together and seeing each other at their worst if she'd come back to his home with him. Could Sigrid see a future with the son of a duke? In answer to him she said these exact words. "For three years you have known me now - you knew that I lied about my age in order to fight for Aryndale, you've seen me at my most unattractive self and we've survived much and spoken at great length of dreams and foolish ambitions and how we would make a world better. My question to you Dudley is could you see a future with the daughter of no one?" A week later the two were married, recalled from the front lines for a small leave to celebrate their nuptials.

A choice had to be made and it was a heavy and hard decision to make despite newly wedded bliss. Which of them would return to Limburg and which spouse would go back to the war to serve aryndale and their allies? Despite her husband's protests and desire to keep her with him Sigrid reasoned with the mighty man that she could've have him unnecessarily going out of his way to save her risking the life of others in his command to lose more life. She would go back to his ancestral home without him to an ancient father in law to help aide in a necessary part of the war effort. Feeding their troops, supplying horses and help minimize the already heavy strain of aryndale's resources. Giving a kiss goodbye, Sigrid sent him back to the front lines, to the scouting party he led into dangerous missions to take on an even more monumental task.

Arriving at Limburg it was clear the place wasn't untouched by war, nearly ravished and run down. Villagers hadn't paid takes and had little food that wasn't already given to the troops and her father in law who would resist her aid for a short while was losing his sight and the ability to govern his duchy properly. Rolling up her sleeves, pulling back her hair and with a fierce determination to return the duchy of Limburg to its former glory the new duchess put her heart and soul into restoring her. Sigrid a newly wedded nineteen worked with farming families, with merchants and laborers to not only work down their seemingly insurmountable debts to house dudley without taking food from their children and doubling their annual yield. She worked in the fields scorched by fire and still smelling of death to show that this was as much a fight for nobles and commoners on the home front as it was for their warriors on the front lines in defense of their nation. Sigrid won them over, every last soul her husband would eventually have charge over and in the end even her father in law called her his most beloved daughter and a blessing to his house. Sigrid too would help where she could acting for the man to carry messages, to provide suggestions and strategies she'd offer forward as the old man's before it was noted they came from the young duchess proving herself an invaluable asset to the crown and the war effort much to the honor of house dudley.

It would be six years until the war would halt, six years for her husband to return and know the struggles she faced in the aryndale interior but the flowers risen from killing fields, grown out of soil that had seen blood and tears and his wife's hard labor to fix it and the lives of those in the duchy of limburg. Understandably there is some distance between the two as there are only so many letters that can sustain a marriage and they have barely laid together more than a few times in the entirety of their wedded lives. They’ve changed as individuals - they are strangers now really learning about one another again despite shared experiences. Here away from their home in the neutral zone this is a new realm of existence for her. The world in which she became a lady and fought tirelessly on front lines and to restore her husbands holdings was one where the definition of lady was altered. Rules here are different and she is a different. A relative unknown to all despite a select few she was involved with regarding the war effort they will soon know her.  Ever a most captivating woman she  breaths life into all she does Sigrid is bound to traverse these uncharted waters and make a splash. Truthfully perhaps they should be afraid those who know nothing of her as she will reveal nothing to them but sees more than those who were raised in this life of princesses and politics. Lady Dudley, despite how unsure of this new territory she is will do what is necessary. Sigrid will help her king and husband make a success of this even if she’s an unpolished lady with much to learn about really being one beyond a few etiquette lessons. 

VI.      ━━  CHARACTER RELATIONS. ( more to be added )

UNKNOWN  (  father,  deceased?  ).

UNKNOWN   (  mother,  deceased?  ).

HORSE MASTER BURGRED  (  caretaker/adoptive father, unknown  ).

ALFRIEDA (  caretaker/adoptive mother,  unknown  ).

DUKE  AERON DUDLEY (  husband; 28+,  wc! name can be changed  ).

VII.      ━━  WANTED  CONNECTIONS.

Again like Altain all the things! I will have specific wanted connections on the google doc that is taking me forever and a day but I’m a firm believer in brainstorming something special to highlight both characters and help build this gorgeous world so please hit me up!

[holy-mountaineering]

This spread is for @lesbianfrannyglass

Thanks for the donation and waiting so long, my life is chaos right now.

Tonight you’re getting the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do and you I believe are pretty familiar with by now. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole, that’s where the divination part happens.

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe a human body, we’ll jump around.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the The Knight of Swords, the fiery part of Air or acting on thinking.

This is the breeze blowing the forest fire across a road. Our Knight has a sword in each hand as he dive bombs a fixed point. He has his airy bird friends in tow and his steed is as fixed as the rider.

You understand what you must do. Now, you must gather all available force to throw at your new focus.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is the 6 of Cups, Pleasure. 

For reasons I call this the plumbing card. The water is not flowing freely as though it is pouring, it has been pumped through a series of tubes intricately woven together to fill the cups placed in the shape of a hexagram. Emotion and connectedness to life are intentionally being directed by unseen but invited forces. Someone who wasn’t looking closely could see nothing but knots and chaos and even wonder how the damn thing worked in the first place. Those people are squares and should be avoided at all costs. 

Do what gives you pleasure that also instills clarity. Center on the best you can feel even if onlookers can’t appreciate what you’re doing connoisseurs (and you) will dig it.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the fan favorite, the 5 of Disks, Worry. 

Like all of the 5s in Tarot, this is the microcosmic or human number . Don’t believe me? Stand up, stick your arms and legs out and counting your head, congrats, you’re a pentagram. Lord knows people worry like motherfuckers about how they are going to get by in the “normal” world, so there is a stress and strain in this card that everyone late on a bill can understand. This is the worry that you’ll get your intelligence (Mercury) smothered by the laborious strain of Taurus. This is, like all 5s a human limitation issue. 

Well it won’t unless you only see your limitations and make it happen. Be smarter about you material situation so you don’t have to work harder.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the mindfuckery boy, the Prince of Swords, the airy part of Air. 

This is pure mind, “reason run amok.” The entire card is made up of strange and fragmenting geometric shapes like the prince’s world is coming apart at the seams. The humanoid creatures pulling his chariot have no fucking idea what they’re doing and the prince himself is in an awkward pose. 

Don’t think yourself into discord. Sometimes when you look too deep at unnecessary or mundane details you’ll fucking lose your shit. Furtherly, focus on doing one thing, stay with that single thing until it is done. I suggest breath work and controlling breathing specifically.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the homefront, the 4 of Disks, Power or the Fortress or the island. 

This is “squaring up” with the material world or your everyday normal money/job/school/housing parts of life. The 4 or square is the next shape when the 3 or triangle is expanded. You are now expanding in 2 dimensions, you’ve made it passed the threshold, how do you proceed?  The Fortress is a castle or private physical place of isolation and security/safety. Your private property and you base of operations to expand out in the world must be firmly secured, since most accidents happen at home. From Liber AL it is mentioned that you should “(C)hoose ye an island, fortify it, dung it about with the enginery of war…” That is to say, for our illustration, protect your base of operations in your material world.

There is one entrance and around the fortress is a mote, this is so you may go about the world doing your business but you can return and bring the bridge up when you’re done fucking around with the outside world.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the Ace of Cups, the root powers of water which is emotion, connectedness to living things, and intuition. 

 This is the geyser of the aspects of water exploding into existence. The Ace of Cups can be like the yearly floods on the   Nile was to ancient Egyptian/Kemetic people that once a year had their fields simultaneously wiped out and fertilized. There is great danger in unbound Love, it tends to get consuming and people fear being consumed. There is a secret meaning to the joining of two to make none, but this isn’t really the place for that. 

 The uncontrolled waterfall of feeling, it can flow and be a clearing force or flood. If you’re not prepared for such water, you might get washed away, if you are it might wash away the cobwebs and your stagnancy. 

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is the overflowing 9 of Cups, Happiness. 

I call this ‘mutually beneficial relationships’ or expanding influence (Jupiter) going or being pulled both ways (Pisces). Each cup has its own source but everything is flowing into each other down to the base of the 3x3 structure. There is a lot of water and all it represents and it hasn’t reached its peak yet and is still driving upward and outward.

Cultivate relationships and connective feelings that aren’t lopsided or just giving/taking. Keep building  you’re not done yet.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is well, The Guy Himself, Mercury, I The Magus or Magician, Mercury, Beth which is a house, House of God, your body, your perspective, you.

The Magus has 4 tools, physical representations of the Elements which he hand crafted. Think of this as your tools or your skill set in your mind which you use to build your perception of the world.

The Magician also has the naysaying Ape of Thoth who follow him around contradicting everything he says. The is your doubt or “Pit of Because” which if you fall into you’ll “perish with the dogs of reason.”

So, you are in charge of what you are in charge of. You have the skill set to alter your Universe, fashion yourself tangible skills with what you know and your experience. You create your perception and can only influence it.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the easy does it Princess of Cups, the earthy part of Water. 

We could consider this the substance in water or water hitting substance head on. This is the idea of the canyon wall being ground down over the millennia by moving water. The nutrients and minerals in the earth are transported down river to the fertile delta. This is the natural, “following your feelings” within your daily life. Try not to fool yourself, follow your intuition, not just passing whims. Feel, don’t necessarily react immediately.

Go with what you feel and intuit, let yourself go with the flow, if you will. Allow your situation to move with your emotions and be patient with your progress.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the large and in charge Queen of Wands, the watery part of Fire or how you feel about what you do.

This is ideally feeling great about what you do. The perspective on the card shows this Queen 10 feet tall and seemingly bulletproof. Her animal the cheetah, known for being fast and a spazz, is subdued under her calm hand. Her legs are spread and the wand of Bacchus  showing all her passions can be controlled.

If you want to feel good about this and what you do, control your knee jerk lower ego reactions. Choose Will not want.

So, you know what you need to get after, you see it clearly, it makes you very happy in a complicated way that maybe you  haven’t even unraveled yet, but you’re too focused on your limitations and how it all might go wrong for you. Don’t build your world around doubt. 

And Furthermore, don’t think you can influence the world how you need to by over analysing everything to the point where all joy in removed. Get yourself a personal and safe place that is yours to build your world, you need the space to not become mired in your over thinking. And the heart of all of this is that you can do this and WHEN you do, you will explode with the kind of love and joy that only you can tap into for yourself.

Now, I’m not saying it is time to ditch the stuff and ideas that don’t serve you anymore, but do that, that is what I’m saying. Allow yourself those healthy relationships where you’re not going the whole 9 yards for people who won’t get on the field. And your thoughts are your own, they’re awesome thoughts and your skills can take you to the places you need to go if you utilize them how you know. And back to that surrounding yourself with folks and energy that allows you to get what you need while giving what you can and getting to where you need to go. Drop the drama and folks that bring it. Find the substance in the feeling that allows you to move in the ways natural to you.

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions and sorry for the wait!

[fgo-headcanons]

I hope this isnt too silly, but I was wondering if I could request a list of the top 5 male servants that would hate to see a girl cry please?

A/N: I really do believe this list would’ve worked out better as a top 3, but I did my best after going through EVERY male servant. Of course, I did try and imagine how these servants would act during said situation so bear with me.

Oh, for now on, I will be giving my opinion to why I chose said servants on lists like these. Let me know what you think of that or what your opinion/ list would be like instead. I’d love to hear it.

Top 5 Male Servants

5. Robin Hood (Archer)

Robin really does seem like the kind of guy who would much rather ignore the situation entirely and walk away while making some king of excuse or sneaking out like he does best. There might be some times when he would find himself “trying” to console them like awkwardly making jokes or patting their back, but it would only make him more and more uncomfortable.

4. Okada Izo (Assassin)

Izo has almost always been around Oryou-san, but she seems like someone who wouldn’t cry, or at least that Izo hasn’t seen that often to be comfortable dealing with this situation. Of course, he would be no different than Robin, but it looks like Izo would at least try to get them to stop crying before awkwardly leaving.

3. Arash (Archer)

If you paid attention to his dialogue during Camelot, you can understand why he would be on this list aside from being a personal favorite. He is caring and wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t at least try to get them to smile. Arash would stay with them for a while, trying to get their mind off of whatever caused them to break down. He would make sure they feel a lot better before taking his leave.

2. Bedivere (Saber) & Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (Lancer/ Saber)

Bedivere seemed better fit for this situation compared to the other knights of the round, and we all know what kind of person Diarmuid is. I picture them acting the same way and refusing to ignore a girl crying. Sure it would be a bit more troublesome for Diarmuid no thanks to his curse, but he would do whatever he can to make sure that girl isn’t crying anymore. Bedivere as well. Just like Arash, they would stay with them and help distract them while also listening to their troubles. They might even go as far as taking them out, not on a date or anything like that, but a simple walk to help ease their minds.

1. Sakata Kintoki (Berserker/ Rider)

Y’all should’ve seen this coming, but Kintoki is my number one choice who would absolutely HATE to see a girl cry! Let it be known that he is kind to children and mothers, so no doubt he is also respectful of women. While he does feel awkward around them, he cannot for the life of him ignore a girl crying. He would push through his awkwardness and do what he can to make them laugh or smile or just listen to them if they let him. I feel like it’s all influence to his relationship with Raikou, but Kintoki, especially as a Rider, would buy them something like a teddy bear while also getting one for himself or taking them out for a ride on his bike to forget whatever pained them. 

[el-dorado1982]

Rewatching the 2018 Magnum PI reboot bc I simply cannot get enough, but I’m seeing more and more similarities between Michael Knight (1982) and Magnum and I’m casually loosing my mind. Now all I need to solidify their likeness is for the Ferrari to somehow start talking to Magnum and the two become inseparable just like Michael and KITT.

[knifeonmars]

Comics that mattered to me in 2019

2019 was a year of highs and lows for me. I spent the first half of the year deep in my Masters program, reading and studying, being challenged, and generally having a good time. I've spent the latter half of the year living with constant anxiety, first about where I would live, and then about a seemingly endless, soul-crushing, and thus far fruitless job search, feeling isolated and frustrated at every turn. I read a fair amount of comics though, probably more than I did in 2018, and I continued the routine I developed in the final months of 2018 of working on my own art and comics, even if I've mostly given up on ever sharing them with an audience, for a variety of reasons. Anyway, here's some comics I read and enjoyed and find myself coming back to.

Cosmic Ghost Rider -

I did not think that Cosmic Ghost Rider: Baby Thanos Must Die would be for me, I've never been a Punisher guy and I don't find any iteration of Thanos interesting, but not only did Cosmic Ghost Rider end up winning me over, after reading it on Comixology I made the highly unusual for me move of also buying a physical edition. Cosmic Ghost Rider has a lot in common with series like Orc Stain or Sabretooth Swordsman, in that it's action packed, lushly rendered madness. Also, for a series with as involved a set up as "The Punisher is now both the Silver Surfer and the Ghost Rider, also Thanos is a baby" it's a shockingly accessible series. It turns over the Marvel Universe toybox to smash things together in a way that feels irreverent and fun without ever being disrespectful or mean-spirited. I highly doubt that Cosmic Ghost Rider is for everyone, but it was certainly for me.

The Immortal Hulk -

Al Ewing's long awaited opportunity to finally run wild with a high profile Marvel character without being bogged down by constant crossovers and tie-ins and other people's status quo changes continues to be one of the absolute best things that Marvel is publishing today (indeed the only regular ongoing that I feel any interest in) and reached virtuosic new heights with the absolutely stunning Immmortal Hulk #25, the final chapter of the fifth trade paperback. Jumping forward trillions of years into a brand new universe, rendered post-apocalyptic in our very first vision of it by the influence of the thing which used to be the Hulk, narrated by a form of life totally alien to our own ideas, Ewing makes it work. The art teams involved also can't be praised enough, Joe Bennett continues his latter day reinvention as a modern master of the art form, leaning into the horror and grotesque beauty of series, while each and every guest artist knocks it out of the park, measuring up to Bennett's example without being overshadowed. For my money I would have to label German Garcia's efforts in Immortal Hulk #25 my favorite, rendering a world totally unlike anything else from Marvel or DC this year and leaving me desperately wanting to see more.

Delicious in Dungeon -

A group of adventurers who wouldn't be out of place in a DnD campaign decide to cut costs on a long term dungeon crawl slash rescue attempt by eating the monsters they fight. It's part comedy, part food porn, part shockingly effective action fantasy, Delicious in Dungeon succeeds in everything it sets out to do and then surpasses any expectations you could possibly have for it.

Internal Affairs 3 -

It's weird, cartoony, light-hearted, and highly videogame-inspired, while dealing with the dehumanizing and frustrating treadmill of the gig economy and exploitative internships. Internal Affairs is extremely My Shit, not just stylistically, but for where I'm at in my own personal life and artistic efforts. Internal Affairs is the kind of comic which gets me excited about making comics and makes me want to do better, but also feels self-effacing and real.

Turncoat -

Scifi noir of the highest order, pitch black and lovingly, grotesquely rendered. The designs are jaw dropping, the story is engaging and brutal, and the final chapter is a series of absolute gut punches. Turncoat does not find reason for optimism, it sees nothing redemptive in humanity, everything and everyone is compromised. I loved it.

Ronin -

This year I completed the work I began on Ronin in 2018, and I find the book more engaging than ever. Ronin is one of the Frank Miller books which no one talks about (unsurprising given that it's not Batman and people sure do love talking about Batman) but it's also in my opinion the single most important book to read to understand Frank Miller as a creator. It is a story about stories, but not in the somewhat tedious way you'd expect from most writers self-aggrandizing about the importance of their own profession, it's about how stories can shape our identities under capital and the commodification of emancipatory fantasies. It's a book about corporate exploitation of creative workers. It's a book about trying to recapture a mythical vision of lost manhood. It's a book about grappling with gender roles. It's a lot. I spent a lot of time looking at Ronin this past year and so my evaluation of it is probably a bit warped by obsession, but it really is Miller's most fascinating book, and as I worked with it I found myself more and more let down that seemingly no one had done any serious scholarship on it. To understand Ronin is to understand where Frank Miller stood in the time between leaving Marvel's Daredevil, where he established himself as a breakout talent, and DC's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, where he emerged as a superstar; it's personal and messy and weird, his statement of intent for the entire career. It is, if nothing else, worth reading for anyone interested in critical reading of the traditional comics canon.

[arcanalogue]

Thelem-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Due to strictly enforced gender norms, I wasn’t allowed to be obsessed with the original She-Ra cartoon. I could play with a friend’s sister’s She-Ra toy, but I never dared ask for my own. 

That’s partly why Netflix’s remake She-Ra and the Princesses of Power means so much to me. Not only is it a version I can can openly discover and geek out over, but the characters’ wide range of age, gender expression and body type makes the fantasy realm of Etheria into a playground for the imagination -- one makes fans like me feel specifically included, even if it’s mainly aiming to entertain kids. 

Any storytelling that draws from mystical currents will end up echoing familiar tropes and ideas from our own world. Attempts to portray existing magickal practices accurately almost always disappoint, as they did in Netflix’s other “princess of power” story, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (which is really entertaining nevertheless). 

Isn’t it funny how the stories which offer up a wealth of artistic inspiration for magic often prove more durable than those depicting “real-life” magic use? The more abstract the characters’ powers are, the more possibilities we see in exploring them ourselves, and the more permission we feel to make something truly our own.

In the new She-Ra’s case (and in similar shows, like Steven Universe), magic is married to technology in a way that kids watching today will intrinsically understand, aligning neatly with post-modern chaos magick traditions. 

In terms of old-school stuff, the Princesses’ magic is elemental in nature -- an expression of the soul of their homeworld, and a tool for regulating planetary harmony. The show departs from the classical elements of Earth, Air, Fire, Water, etc., which is fine, because their planet is not our planet, and its properties are still being revealed... to the characters, as well as to us. 

But let’s not overlook that the very idea of “Princesses of Power” is old-school, and has a deep footprint in the history of tarot -- particularly the one crafted by the Dark Lord himself, Aleister Crowley.

Before Crowley’s Thoth deck, the tarot’s court cards historically consisted of King, Queen, Knight, and Page -- a total sausage-fest, though Pamela Colman Smith brought out a wonderful androgyny in her illustration of the Pages (and in many of her deck’s other figures), which seems to even out the gender spectrum a bit, and is partly why the deck remains appealing to new users over a century later.

Conceived in the 1930s, Crowley’s court consists of a Knight, a Queen, a Prince, and a Princess. This “modern” twist must have seemed terribly progressive at the time, dethroning the King and elevating the court’s lowest ranking member (a page is just a humble servant of the royal court), consecrating that role as female.

You could write an entire book about the gender problems in Thelema (the religion founded by Crowley, which remains popular today). In fact, that book probably exists already, and contemporary Thelemites are continually exploring and re-examining the way our evolving social and scientific views of gender mesh with their religion’s core beliefs. 

For now, all that’s important is that Crowley took a humble servant and elevated her to a PRINCESS OF POWER. 

The four roles in the tarot’s court each correspond to a different classical element, the Page/Princess’s being Earth. And each of these four earthy figures is herself an expression of the classical elements: Fire of Earth (Wands), Water of Earth (Cups), Air of Earth (Swords), and Earth of Earth (Pentacles, or in Crowley’s case, Disks).

Exploring these cards in an earlier lesson, I wrote:

“The Page’s defining quality is not sex but immaturity, a word which inspires unnecessarily negative associations. Let’s not forget the raw potential we find in the young and/or untested, or the curiosity and vivacity they may bring to their work.  As such, each of the four Pages represents a latent untamed force for change.”

What I love about Lady Frieda Harris’s illustrations in the Thoth deck is that the Princesses are all portrayed as doing something. These images could be pulled from the opening credits of She-Ra. 

Think about that: she drew them as superheroes. The 1930s were the period when these kinds of heroes began to proliferate in comics, and Superman himself debuted in 1938 -- the same year Crowley and Harris began working on the Thoth deck. 

Like She-Ra’s heroines, our tarot Princesses owe all their strength (as well as their weakness) to their signature elements, though in Crowley’s world there is a clear elemental hierarchy, due to spiritual ideas imparted by Western esotericism. As such, the Princess of Disks (Earth of Earth) sits at the bottom of the totem pole. 

This kind of hierarchical thinking (and binary gender) is exactly what drives many people away from traditional forms of magick. I sympathize, and agree that we should never stop challenging these ideas. 

However, what really we see in the Thoth deck is a setup for an archetypal story in which the low are made high; in which Princesses serve as the catalyst for changes that transform reality itself. 

Just like Ace -- the lowest number in the minor arcana, but a symbol of tremendous power -- the Princess represents a place to build upward and outward from. Though she mirrors the queen in her gender, it’s the King/Knight she reflects in her agency and authority.

“The Princess is the throne of her Ace,” observes Thelemic teacher and author Lon Milo Duquette. In his book The Chicken Qabalah, he writes at length about the importance of Princesses: “They are positioned at the lowest end of our elemental universe, but they also embody the foundation of our universe.”

Awakening and exploring our Princess nature will gradually help us “escape the prison of matter” and “live in the bliss of the highest world.”

He even presents a diagram that shows how you can use the Princess and Ace-through-Ten cards to divide up the globe -- a handy tool for readings involving a geographical component.

In the Netflix show, Adora is offered a very similar view of her world by First-Ones avatar Light Hope, who reveals how the Princesses -- each an expression of their respective element -- are all interconnected as regulators of Etheria’s holistic balance. 

Of course, this is just an abstract diagram of Etheria’s actual geography. Entrapta’s model in the same scene shows that these centers of power are just as unevenly dispersed on Etheria as they are on our own planet.

Duquette’s book offers a qabalistic Creation myth based on these feudal archetypes, which may explain why royal figures still play such a prominent role in our storytelling. 

“The you that you think is you is not you,” he explains. “It is a dream you. In fact, the you that you think is you is a dreamer inside a dreamer inside a dreamer inside a dreamer. You are the King of the universe, who has fallen asleep and is dreaming he is the Queen, who has fallen asleep and is dreaming she is the Prince, who has fallen asleep and is dreaming he is a sleeping princess.”

In Duquette’s fairytale of Creation, the Prince and Princess are twins birthed by the Queen -- different in sex, but alike in power. HELLO PEOPLE, this is the exact premise of the original She-Ra cartoon. 

Within the new show, we see the struggle of a world straining to evolve in two opposing directions. 

The Fright Zone is a technocratic military junta which only managed to come into power via political exploitation, capturing the Black Garnet runestone from the family of Scorpia, Etheria’s last “slumbering” princess. 

One could compare the Fright Zone’s hierarchy to that of the classic Rider-Waite-Smith court cards, in which Hordak serves as King, Shadow Weaver as Lord, Force Captains are Knights, and all the the various wanna-be’s (including Adora and Catra in the first episode), servants, robots, and various scavengers remain in the Peasant class.

It’s not clear yet how the rest of Etheria is governed. It bucks this traditional structure, resulting in a lumpy sort of meritocracy in which those with the most magical power wield the most influence, but rulers are mainly tasked with maintaining harmony and protecting their subjects against external invasion. There’s evidence of a soldier class, but the “lowest” citizens we encounter are shown existing peacefully in (apparently) self-governing tribal cultures. They don’t serve the Princesses, they simply enjoy the freedom afforded to them by the Princesses’ rule. People live for love, for pleasure, for adventure, and/or the pursuit of intellectual aims. 

(The only exception seems to be Entrapta, the Silicon Valley tech-bro stand-in who presides over her own servant class of attendants and robots. And it’s worth mentioning that she’s also the only Princess whose power isn’t anchored to an elemental source.)

In this sense, Etheria is an impressive embodiment of Thoth deck court structure, populated by Queens, industrious “princes” like Bow and SeaHawk, and true Princesses -- “Every man and every woman is a star,” with plenty of room to accommodate those who present neither as fully male or female, those with magical powers and those without.

But if you’ve already read this far, let’s take this one step even further and look at how SHE-RA IS ALSO A KNIGHT. 

That’s right, you heard me: everything that Adora symbolizes as Princess, She-Ra articulates as a Knight. She even gets a horse! And a sword, and a shield! Note that Adora hasn’t really changed: she was a Knight in Hordak’s world also. She has simply relocated from one symbolic reality to another -- a more Thelemic one, in which Knights are kings. Thus, as She-Ra, she becomes Hordak’s symbolic equal. 

And note that Noelle Stevenson’s re-imagining of the series is entitled “She-Ra and the Princesses of Power,” as opposed to the original title “She-Ra: Princess of Power.” She is of their ilk, but different. As Perfuma might say: “She is the She-Ra.”

Symbolically, Adora contains all the elemental potential of a Princess who must still evolve and struggle to awaken. She-Ra, however, is the elemental Fire that awaits on the other side -- the King who dreams he is a Queen, who dreams she is a Prince, who dreams he is a Princess. We know from Light Hope that She-Ra’s lineage extends thousands of years. She is not a person, she’s a function -- and that function is to protect Etheria by transforming reality. 

In other words: Adora’s glorious transformation into She-Ra is a microcosm of Etheria’s transformation, which She-Ra herself was created to oversee. 

In this way, the series bears the greatest resemblance to Alan Moore’s tremendous graphic novel Promethea, which tells the story of an ordinary young woman named Sophie who discovers she’s the latest incarnation of a mythical “science heroine” -- who may or may not have been created to usher in the Apocalypse. And she is guided in this process by other Prometheas, who represent an interesting range of ethnicities, body types, and genders. 

Sophie’s exploration of her own newfound identity sends her on an odyssey that matches many beats in Adora’s. What are the limits of her new powers? How can she learn to transform at will? What dangers will this confer on her loved ones? Which parts of her belong to Sophie, and which to Promethea?

These are classic superhero problems, but Sophie’s quest is one that’s specifically designed to transform the reader as well: Moore has crafted a story that also serves as a primer for modern occult traditions, including tarot cards. 

While Moore looks beyond Thelema, the works of Aleister Crowley remain a key influence -- the horny old magician even appears as a recurring character, in a handful of cheeky cameo roles.

Like She-Ra, Promethea points to the golden thread of continuity linking the individual and the divine. That’s a birthright that even the humblest, most overlooked person shares with the rest of humanity, but our world’s prevailing powers do everything they can to conceal that truth. Our own senses play tricks on us as well, supporting a view of the world in which we remain small and powerless, in which our lives, our suffering, our deaths, mean nothing.

The artists mentioned in this post -- Smith, Crowley, Duquette, Harris, Moore, Stevenson -- might not agree on everything, but they share the same quest: to awaken all these slumbering princesses. That includes you, dear reader. Wake up, your kingdom needs you!

Our language has another word for this sacred process: animation. 

This is why you shouldn’t feel silly enjoying She-Ra or any other fantasy, at any age. This is why little girls shouldn’t be discouraged from play-acting as princesses (and neither should little boys). Society can only stand to improve from humans exploring their Princess powers. Many of these magical abilities will prove to be connected to life-saving (perhaps even civilization-saving) advantages further down the road. Magic is real, and we all stand to benefit from it.

“The clothes you're wearing, the room, the house, the city that you're in. Everything in it started out in the human imagination,” Moore writes in Promethea. “Your lives, your personalities, your whole world. All invented. All made up. All the wars, the romances. The masterpieces and the machines. And there's nothing here but a funny little twist of amino acids, playing a marvelous game of pretend.” 

For the honor of Grayskull, it’s time to conduct yourself accordingly. 

Have a tarot reading request or tarot-related question for Arcanalogue? Ask here. Tips accepted (but not required) via Venmo, @arcanalogue. Or support my Patreon? I’d love that.

[spdtactics-a]

the great irene mom rankings!

i said i’d do these earlier so here we are with irene first! 

moms are ranked based on four things: their supports with frederick, the inheritance they pass down in-game and how it would change irene as an actual unit in game, hair colour, and the corresponding sibling + their dynamic.

 i’m doing these in order of recruitment, as well as including chrom and emmeryn. i went the extra mile and included icons for all the robinsexuals just for fun, which are included at the bottom. they won’t be rated, i just felt like completing all the potential moms(tm). 

i also edited the skin tones for the moms who are naturally darker skinned ( ...or should be ), then noticed i fucked it up a little and... honestly i’m too tired to go back and redo it, pls understand i’m sorry ;____;

frederick’s daughter. an enigmatic cavalier who aspires to be as great a knight as her father. the most afraid of fire.

robin.

supports: hmm... while i love frederick/mu, the in game supports themselves feel kind of weird making the jump from being platonic to romantic... but honestly, they work for me! i think it’s just the format they’re presented in that feels a bit jumpy and choppy? in any case robin helping frederick get over an aversion and better himself for it is very cute. i like it.

inheritance: obviously, the mu is the best parent for any child unit. robin would provide access to every class in the game, so long as it isn’t gender locked-- and heck even her growth rates would vary wildly depending on how you set robin’s. 

hair colour: i just used the default one here or else i’d have gone insane, but a lot of the custom colours did look really cute! i’m especially fond of the araceli-esque blue. :3c

sibling(s): she’d get morgan as a younger sibling... or two! which... could be a pretty fun dynamic. being morgan’s sibling would be the only instance in which irene is older.

overall: the most important thing to note about the mu is that every interpretation, default or custom, is wildly different. while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it does make it kind of hard to pin down what irene’s life would have been like with robin as her mother (...or other father). that said, the mu’s disappearance would definitely have inspired her to keep going with her training as a knight. unaware of what truly happened to her missing parent, irene would hope to find them someday. again... this really does depend on the mu and their interpretation-- but all in all, a solid irene.

final rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ ( 7 scales tipped out of 10 )

chrom.

supports: the supports in game are fucking hilarious, but i don’t know how i feel about them in a romantic context? 

inheritance: chrom’s lord class is non-inheritable, but at least irene would get aether and the (albeit unrealized) ability to wield falchion, if lucina’s sibling supports are anything to go off of! otherwise, the only new class irene would get out of the mix is archer, and i actually couldn’t find the village maiden!lucina stat modifiers for a reference... but chrom’s default growth rates are the highest in skill and speed, so i feel like him as her father would definitely influence that. as for the brand, it’s on the back of her neck!

hair colour: yknow i didn’t think i’d be crazy about lord blue(tm), but it looks really nice with brown eyes... also, irene wouldn’t have to rely on magic to disguise herself as lucina while acting as a decoy. :3c

sibling(s): i’ll admit i’m not the biggest lucina fan out there anymore after some... personal stuff, but i do think lucina would be a cute older sister for irene... if not a little intimidating. while irene would idolize her big sister, she would also often feel as though she’s left in lucina’s shadow... which wouldn’t help much with her self esteem-- hell, she’d feel as though she HAD to work as hard as she already does just to match up... and it could lead to extreme recklessness on irene’s part-- which is NOT something you’d want from a princess of the realm or a knight. 

overall: i love princess irene, but chrom isn’t exactly my first pick for her exalted parent-- mostly because of lucina and the very limited class pool irene would get as a result; she’s barred from lord and chrom’s only other class that doesn’t overlap is archer... like, oof? that said, i honestly do really love the idea of chrom BEING irene’s father. he’s just... such a good dad? he’d really, really help her unlearn a lot of the habits she drilled into herself to be a “model princess” and ideal knight just by... you know. being himself! being younger than lucina, irene’s memories of chrom aren’t as vivid, and honestly a little warped by her sister’s and other father’s perceptions... getting to know the real man would be. so good for her!!! tldr chrom could be a really great dad for irene, but... he has a few teensy things holding him back from being phenomenal. when it comes to royal irene i love papa chrom, but i do think uncle is a bit better.

final rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ ( 6 unpeeled oranges out of 10 )

lissa.

supports: they’re cute! they’re not my absolute favourites, but lissa getting to marry her first love is sweet. i just happen to prefer frederick and lissa with other people.

inheritance: i’ve always really liked the concept of pegasus knight and healer irene, and lissa provides both of those things with the cleric, troubadour, and pegknight lines! also galeforce. gotta love galeforce. while they’re classes that would take a bit of work for irene to really blossom in, from a character development standpoint i think they’re wonderful. like-- she doesn’t have to imitate frederick entirely to be just as good of a knight, she can incorporate things her mom taught her as well. like owain irene does have the brand surface as lissa’s daughter, and it’s still on the back of her neck.

hair colour: lissa’s blonde and emmeryn’s blonde are actually super close in colour! it’s nearly impossible to tell, but emmeryn’s is slightly more saturated. either way i prefer irene with darker hair colours, but the royal blonde is cute.

sibling(s): oh dear god i don’t think irene’s equipped to handle owain of all people as her older brother... she was a really shy little kid, and as much as she’d love owain i do feel like his energy would be........... overwhelming?????? for her? that said i think owain would also know when to dial things down for her sake... that said, irene would really admire owain and while not bold enough to take part in justice cabal shenanigans, she would support them from a distance! still, being lucina’s cousin is... hard.  

overall: i actually don’t have strong feelings on momther lissa one way or another! it’s a pairing i’m not overly invested in, but it’s one of those pairings i think would be cool in-game, if irene was an actual unit. it’d... just come at the cost of messing up owain imo. sooo yeah. it’s not awful, but there are definitely better pairings out there.

final rating: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ ( 5 frog pranks out of 10 )

sully.

supports: i do like the tidbit that sully was training for knighthood at 15-- it makes the headcanon that ylisse was so desperate for recruits during the apocalypse they were knighting trainees that young a little more plausible, as my hc is that irene was knighted at the tender age of 15 for those exact reasons. that said, the supports themselves are kind of... meh. they felt perfect leaving off at a, the s-rank feels a bit “well we have to marry them off now so you can get the kid i guess” and shoehorned in than anything. 

inheritance: sully shares her base class with irene, but since frederick also has the wyvern rider class in his kit, the only new class offered to irene is myrmidon... which is kind of sad. myrm’s a great class, but OOF that class pool...

hair colour: sully’s red is the softest and dullest out of all the red haired gen 1s, and it’s nice on irene... but eh. there are nicer.

sibling(s): ... i just don’t like kjelle all that much. i don’t know why. i never really use her... i think it’s because she’s an armoured unit and eh, no thanks. i like the idea of irene and kjelle being friends, though... just not siblings.

overall: while having two knightly parents would make irene’s transition from shy, girly child to lady knight a lot easier, sully... is not a mom i’m a huge fan of for irene. her class pool is ridiculously limited, the family dynamic with kjelle isn’t one i’m a huge fan of... while i think irene would be inspired by and look up to sully, it’s hard to see her as irene’s mother. more like a mentor, if anything. you feel?

final rating: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ ( 4 business swords out of 10 )

miriel.

supports: i’m actually doing this one in my current awakening run! while the supports are fun and i like them, i’m... not a huge fan of their ending and ‘miriel vanishing for weeks at a time’. like. uh. okay.......... cool........... i guess?? that said, they’re nicer than sully’s supports lmao.

inheritance: miriel flips irene’s entire concept on its head-- as frederick’s daughter, she’s a very physical based unit who doesn’t really... excel at magic. meanwhile, all of miriel’s classes are magic. a miriel!irene inherits the mage, dark mage, and troubadour lines-- while i think she’d struggle with anima, light, or dark magic, i always see irene as having a natural, innate talent for healing. she would make a decent war cleric! 

hair colour: miriel’s hair is one of my favourites in the game and irene pulls it off well! it’s that pretty, dark red...........

sibling(s): maybe i’m just biased and adore bp too much, but the entire reason i like miriel as irene’s mother is because of laurent! i think they’re a nice match as siblings. studious, observant, kind laurent and his little sister... they’d both take care of everyone else and it could probably be a little overbearing, but... it’d be really sweet. i love it. i also headcanon laurent to have been the one who used his magic to make irene’s hair blue whilst she pulled a frey and acted as a decoy in the bad future... the angst potential there is lovely. imagine realizing your little sister embarking on what’s basically a suicide mission really is the only way to slip past enemy lines to safety? and setting her up to do just that?  r i p laurent. but also please consider irene being a late bloomer to non-healing magic and her brother teaching her. it’s good shit! >:3c

overall: the main appeal of miriel to me is getting laurent as a brother, and the concept of a late-blooming magical irene. miriel’s and frederick’s supports are good but i’m not 100% sold on their ending, and there are just frederick pairings i like better.

final rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ ( 7 mysteries of the universe solved out of 10 )

sumia.

supports: YES??? YES!!!!!! mu aside, frederick is my favourite sumia pairing! ... out of what’s available in game, anyways. sumia’s just so earnest and eager to help out as much as frederick does and he’s endeared by it and I’M endeared by it and they’re just so ridiculously SWEET it rots my teeth and yes pLEASE...

inheritance: sumia passes down pegasus knight, cleric, and knight-- once again giving me the option of f a l c o n  k n i g h t  i r e n e complete with galeforce. and i love me some f a l c o n  k n i g h t  i r e n e.

hair colour: it’s lighter and less saturated than her default fred brown, but sumia’s hair is very pretty on irene... i like it a lot! 

sibling(s): i know i said owain would probably be a little overwhelming to have as a brother, therefore it ought to be the same for cynthia... but i actually don’t see that being the case! before their parent’s deaths, cynthia was shy and soft and girly-- much like irene. i can see both sisters vowing to grow stronger and become knights of ylisse together-- they just have different ideas of what constitutes heroism. irene’s vision of a hero is more like their father’s: someone who’s always looking after everyone, even when it goes unnoticed-- and sometimes it works better when it’s unnoticed. cynthia is dazzling glamour and drama, ready to punish evildoers in the name of the moon with the coolest entrances and speeches ever. she keeps morale up with theatrics and works hard to be that shining light for everyone with them, where irene supports from the shadows. while she’d be adverse to acting out cynthia’s flights of fancy in the bad future, she... could be roped into trying in the past, and it would help her kick a lot of her reservation and shyness. cynthia and irene are good sisters and i love them!!!

overall: i love fredsumia in general, so sumia as irene’s mom is just so good to me already???? even without thinking about it too deeply, i can just look at sumia and be like ‘yeah, she could have a kid like irene.’ 

final rating: ★★★★★★★★★☆ ( 9 flower fortunes out of 10 )

maribelle.

supports: i actually really like frederick’s and maribelle’s supports. they’re hilarious and sweet and just-- yeah. i like maribelle being willing to learn menial tasks to better instruct her own servants and just... yeah!!! it’s cute!!! i like maribelle/fred!

inheritance: maribelle gives irene a lot of the classes lissa does-- troubadour, pegasus knight... then mage. anything that can give me galeforce falcon knight irene is a good time!! it’s a shame brady could do better for a father...

hair colour: god maribelle’s hair is bright... but it looks cute with the brown eyes!

sibling(s): oh my god brady and irene would be really cute as brother and sister... they’re both soft kids(tm) and the narrative of irene having to work really, really hard to become a knight lends itself well to her being a duchess’ daughter!! i also have a hc that irene used to hang out in whatever ‘medical bay’ brady cobbled together after his scare with that guy who became a risen mid-healing, to both have an excuse to avoid any burning of bodies and protect brady from another incident... look they’re just. cute.

overall: while it does sacrifice some of brady’s potential, irene being maribelle’s daughter is solid and interesting!! fred’s and maribelle’s supports are genuinely good, irene’s backstory lines up well with maribelle being her mom, brady’s a great brother, and gameplay wise she gets good class options! maribelle? solid choice!!!

final rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ ( 7 parasols out of 10 )

panne.

supports: these are actually supports i quite like! frederick learning new things and overcoming fears are always a joy to see, and seeing a more relaxed side of panne is really cute... they’re good!! 

inheritance: panne gives irene a unique class in taguel, as well as thief and wyvern rider! while she’d have to be very careful of anti-beast weapons, the thought of irene with the bunny ears is... cute...

hair colour: dark colours really do suit irene; i just wish i had the patience to edit taguel ears onto that icon... because she’d definitely have them.

sibling(s): mmmm yarne’s another kid i’m not huge on, and i do feel like they’d clash as siblings... while yarne is self preserving to a fault, understanding the weight of his (and irene’s) legacies as the literal last two taguel in the world, irene throws herself into danger regularly as a knight without any regard for her own safety. there would... probably be arguments about it. i dunno, yarne just... also doesn’t work as fred’s kid imo?? it could just be personal preference...

overall: taguel irene!!! taguel irene!!! while i love panne’s and fred’s supports and the concept, the family dynamic with yarne just... doesn’t... click very well for me? they really do feel like they’d be at each other’s throats a lot over clashing ideologies, and mmmm it would be fun for character development, but... i dunno. i’m just not feeling it as something to write?

final rating: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ ( 6 carrots out of 10 )

cordelia.

supports: NO!!! cordelia’s supports with frederick are some of my least favourites in the game!!! i blame the mention of c h r o m and how it is in-context. it’s like frederick’s just... settling for being second best, even if cordelia claims she’s giving up on chrom, then considering severa’s recruitment dialogue... mmmmmm. i don’t... like that... they both deserve better...

inheritance: cordelia’s fun in that between all of her class lines -- pegasus knight, mercenary, dark mage -- she can use every single weapon in the game. this trait passes on to both irene and severa, and irene does get some nice options to play around with 

hair colour: the fiery red is nice, actually, but it’s a little TOO vivid to suit irene...

sibling(s): i feel like severa’s bold and abrasive nature would either extend to her little sister or she’d be an overly smothering big sister to overcompensate for perfect mom cordelia’s absence. there’d be no in between, and shy, meek irene would... suffocate from it. they’d work better as friends than siblings.

overall: while this would be a nice pairing in a playthrough WITHOUT ruining severa in the process, i don’t like it much in context. the supports are some of my least favourites, severa isn’t a good fit for irene’s sibling, and i... just like both units with other people! 

final rating: ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ ( 2 unrequited crushes out of 10 )

nowi.

supports: okay, the supports themselves are nice. they’re a sweet concept-- nowi wanting to make sure frederick receives recognition for all his hard work, despite him being content just... helping from the shadows. that said i still... can’t get past the whole nowi looking like a child thing. i know she’s over 1000 years old but it still feels super awkward to me? then again that’s a nowi complaint in general... so... rip nowi i really do love you i swear--

inheritance: manakete irene!!! manakete!!! irene!!! nowi also gives mage and wyvern rider, as well as decent magic growths-- late bloomer magical dark knight irene is fun, but... manakete irene

hair colour: nowi’s green is pretty wild, but i think that with the long ears it’d be cute!!

sibling(s): nah and irene would prooobably make cute siblings, but i don’t think nah’s backstory gels well with irene’s. in nah’s, both of her parents died when she was an infant. i hc frederick was among the last to die. something has to be altered pretty radically for this to fit, or else fred just up and ditched his kids, and... no. 

overall: honestly this would be one of my favourites if not for the massive edits to irene’s overall concept and the nowi problem(tm). manakete irene is a really fun concept, fred’s and nowi’s supports are really cute tbh and their ending is sweet, i feel like nowi’s light-heartedness and maturity underneath it all are something that would be really good for irene, but... the amount of editing needed to make it work kinda ruins the idea for me.

final rating: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ ( 4 dragonstones out of 10 )

tharja.

supports: they’re... hm. they’re... interesting? see tharja’s supports are like how i view cordelia’s: the less mentions of robin ( and chrom in cordelia’s case ), the better. tharja talks about robin a lot in the c-a ones, but thankfully there’s no mention of them in the s. so that’s points in tharja’s favour! they’re not bad, but i do think i like tharja and frederick with other people.

inheritance: tharja passes down dark mage and archer, then knight overlaps with irene’s classes inherited from frederick. magical irene is once again on the table, but given the nature of future!tharja, i feel like irene would be horribly scared of or at least averse to dark magic and against trying it for herself. 

hair colour: dark hair colours always look good on irene... though grabbing it off tharja’s sprite was weird, because the sprite makes it look more brown than black. oh well.

sibling(s): while fred/tharja isn’t terrible, ohhhhh boy the implications it has for irene’s childhood isn’t fun. she and noire sound like good sisters, but... once frederick dies tharja snaps hard, and begins using noire as a guinea pig. given i hc frederick as one of the last to die, either irene is already knighted and in a horrible position to get noire out of that situation until their mother dies too, or frederick dies earlier and she ends up trapped in the abuse too. it’s just... a very sad situation and i can’t... i feel really bad putting irene in either of them. either she chases frederick and knighthood and unintentionally abandons noire, or she has to suffer future!tharja.

overall: despite the iffy future!tharja situation, i do think that the interactions with past!tharja and noire would make for really interesting character development. and you all know i am HERE for character development! frederick’s supports with tharja aren’t bad ones, but they’re not necessarily my favourites either. dunno, just... not huge on this one, but i don’t hate it!

final rating: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ ( 5 hexes out of 10 )

olivia.

supports: this one was........... weird. like, it shows fred’s overbearingness extends to everyone when he’s trying to lend a hand and it’s really cute, but... mmmmmmmmmm i really don’t know. i like olivia with other people more and her supports can be kind of hit or miss as it is for me, even when i like the pairing. 

inheritance: olivia doesn’t give dancer, what even is the point-- no, but irene could inherit myrmidon, pegasus knight, and since dancer is exclusive to olivia, mercenary! if you want g a l e f o r c e  f a l c o n  k n i g h t  irene, it’s a good choice! 

hair colour: irene with olivia’s pink is cute, but i like darker tones on her, personally...

sibling(s): irene being inigo’s younger sister could be fun? they’re both shy characters and deal with it in different ways-- irene threw herself into training, inigo followed the ‘talk to girls’ advice. i can see them lowkey clashing over that, but still being close? it sets up for really fun shenanigans in fates too, as irene and corbett go to fateslandia on their own and settle in hoshido, meanwhile inigo’s summoned there by anankos and ends up in nohr... on a less potentially tragic note, irene being soleil’s aunt is cute. 

overall: this is another pairing i like more for the sibling than the parents, but it’s still a solid one! the supports are kind of weird to me, but then again as much as i love olivia her supports are... mmmmm. irene gets great classes out of the deal, as well as the coveted galeforce, and inigo is a fun brother. all in all, it’s one of the better ones! 

final rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆   ( 7 dances out of 10 )

cherche.

supports: these are my absolute favourites, with sumia’s supports being just sliiiiightly behind them. i just love how highly frederick and cherche hold each other in high esteem from day one? they learn from each other, they snark about virion in private together, and their ending and their “famously disarming smiles” is so good??? power. couple. 

inheritance: cherche passes down wyvern rider, cleric, and troubadour. healer irene is back in play, which i love!! she wouldn’t get minerva as a wyvern rider because gerome already has her, but it’s Fine.

hair colour: mmm, it looks so cute on her! i love cherche’s pink...

sibling(s): the contrast between brooding, distant gerome and gentle, shy irene is really fun to me! i feel like they’d be super close as kids but get along less as they grew older, but that also opens the doors for that sweet, sweet character development and reconciliation. and if you know anything about me, i live for character development.

overall: cherche is irene’s default mom for a reason. frederick’s and cherche’s supports are my favouites for them both, she lends really well to the idea of irene being less talented with offensive magic but having a hidden talent for healing, and her hair colour is pink-- but still that nice darker tone that i like on her. gerome is... a bit of a piece of work, but they contrast in an interesting way and the development that comes with reconciliation is appealing! so yeah! i love!!! cherche!irene! 

final rating: ★★★★★★★★★★ ( 10 snacks for minerva out of 10 )

emmeryn.

supports: they, uh... don’t have any. the draw for fredemm in general is that he’s a knight and she’s the exalt, and i mean... it’s really a sweet concept! i do prefer emm/phila and frederick with other people, but it is an emmeryn ship i still really like! it does require some shifting things around on irene’s part as she’d now have to be older than all of the children to even exist in the bad timeline, but... eh. details.

inheritance: emm’s classes are the same ones as lissa’s, so see her section! as always with princess irene, the brand is on the back of her neck.

hair colour: it looks really close to lissa’s, but it’s just a little more saturated...

sibling(s): not counting emmeryn fankids, irene would be an only child. i guess that means she would treat lucina, her sibling, and owain like siblings of her own! that said, she would still undergo the lucina problem-- being related to falchion’s bearer and unable to wield it herself  despite being a member of the exalted bloodline does a number on irene’s confidence and self image as a princess. now that i’m thinking about it, what if princess irene got geirskogul...

overall: if i’m doing princess irene, emmeryn is my favourite of the ylissean royal sibs to be her other parent. everything is a little more hc based and shifts around a bit based off portrayals and whatnot, but i really like exalted irene so it’s worth it!!  

final rating: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ ( 8 miracles out of 10 )

just for fun...

anna.

aversa.

flavia.

say’ri.

tiki.

[sailor-cresselia]

The Great Ex-Aid Rewatch: Ep 09

Oh no. This took ages to write. I planned to get two episodes down in this update, but nope.

Episode 09 OP update: the shot of the four riders lined up from episode one’s cold open was replaced with them transforming into level 3.

–––

…For all that Hiiro goes on about not taking unnecessary risks, he’s kind of terrible at following his own advice. The bugster hasn’t emerged from Secretary Hinata yet, so he’s just going to make it come out – shoving Emu to the ground in the process. This isn’t even Emu’s clumsiness in play; Hiiro actually shoved him. But since someone rushed the process, they’re all caught completely unaware when the bugster ‘union’ starts differently than usual.

Maybe if he had waited just a few moments, he could. You know. Find out that the symptoms were the same as the readings that they got off of Graphite.

Just saying, Hiiro.

This is the first time that there wasn’t any sort of bugster union, too. The dragon just straight up separated completely. Even Graphite was implied to have formed from a union – Taiga was surprised that the bugster separated from Saki back when all that went down.

–––

…oh my Gaim.

I just thought of something. Gamedeus Cronus was technically an overpowered bugster union, right?

Could… could Emu and Parad as the OG Genius Gamer M have been considered a Union?

Okay that got a little off topic there, back to the show.

–––

...Graphite, I have a couple comments for you.

One, I can’t believe you didn’t catch that Kuroto was tempting you into taking the proto gashat.

Two, please stop looking like you’re enjoying the blatant pain you’re in when you shove that thing into your chest.

Three, did your base character have a habit of shoving power sources into his chest? Because you do that a lot, and it’s a little concerning.

–––

Here’s the thing about Parad and his not being worried about Graphite here. We later find out that he knew all along that since Graphite was complete, he could come back at any point, even though Graphite didn’t know that.

Which raises the question, which will never be answered, of just how Parad knew that when Kuroto didn’t, but oh well.

So, when Parad hears that they just need the battle data for Drago Knight to complete phase one, he smiles.

In a far more menacing manner than when he was gushing about how ‘terrifying’ Kuroto was just a few moments ago.

–––

Back on the battlefield, Hiiro is focused entirely on defeating Graphite to avenge Saki. He didn’t even know that Secretary Hinata was infected specifically with the Drago Knight strain until Graphite showed up, because he didn’t take the time to get any information on the situation before leaping into battle. But Graphite showed his face, and oh no, Hiiro is not having him around.

Emu, meanwhile, is focusing on the actually time-critical task of. You know. Defeating the dragon that emerged from Doctor Kyotaro. Because he’s keeping his cool way better than the supposedly level headed surgeon.

–––

Taiga you can’t just hide out in the sitting room in front of the CEO’s office, that’s rude. Thanks for the reminder that that’s the tenth gashat, though.

–––

Emu rightfully calls Hiiro out on his recklessness. For the genius surgeon to act without any knowledge of the situation is a bad sign for his judgement and objectiveness. And yeah, Hiiro’s right that Emu’s getting a little too personal in this case, but that’s kind of who Emu is, and he does have a genuine personal involvement in this case, but the point stands. Hiiro got distracted, and really was just fighting for revenge there. The intern is being more logical than the surgeon.

One is fighting for someone who’s already gone, and the other for someone who is still here.

Nobody is truly objective here, but… well, Emu’s priorites may be strained and a little off balance, but they’re still more in order than Hiiro’s.

…Ah. Interesting.

When Emu say’s that he’ll show them that it doesn’t matter if it’s a four player gashat or not, that he’ll show them he can clear it? He’s still using ‘boku’.

This is entirely Emu speaking.

–––

At least Hiiro seems to have realized that he was being irrational.

And then proceeds to ‘confront’ the director about the compatibility surgery. Apparently Hiiro had it performed 5 years ago – which doesn’t seem right to me, since he was still a student then, but fine. Excite and RTA both seem to agree that’s what was being said, so. Fine. I still don’t think he’s actually been using a driver that long, though.

I also still think there’s got to be more to it than ‘introducing a sample of the Bugster Virus to produce antibodies’, but since canon never elaborates any more than that… fine. Whatever.

Hiiro asks why Emu doesn’t know what Taiga was talking about the other day with ‘what it means to be a compatible user,’ and yet is still somehow surprised when the director says that Emu hasn’t had the surgery.

–––

Kiriya. Kiriya this is not the way to earn someone’s trust.

You do not go around saying that someone died in order to get their medical records.

Or, well, you’re not supposed to. I know you only have so many avenues for information gathering, but really.

I somehow doubt you ever corrected this bit of misinformation in the three weeks between this and Christmas.

But still… well, it does look a little suspicious. A person who isn’t supposed to be able to transform can, and only has one surgery on his record. Which does happen to imply that the compatibility surgeries for the others are on their medical records, but that’s just an aside thought. And when the person who performed the single operation is the one in charge of the department that uses the compatibility surgery…

Well. It does make sense that Kiriya would be willing to doubt the secretary.

–––

Asuna’s right to point out that Emu’s acting strange. He’s being hasty – less so than Hiiro was earlier, but he is still running off on his own a lot. He’s so desperate to prove himself, to prove that he can be a good doctor, that he’s losing track of quite how to do that.

I don’t think he’s forgetting how dangerous this is – even though he doesn’t quite have the proof of how fatal it can be for the riders. Not for another few weeks.

But he wants to prove himself so badly that i’m not sure he entirely cares at the moment.

Even when he’s saying that he can’t lose at games, when he’s saying that he’s the only one who can perform this operation… he’s getting cocky.

But Emu is still using ‘boku.’

–––

Seeing this many people collapsing is scary. I’m sure it must be even worse for the people with no context, for the civilians – from their perspective, there is no cause. Emu knows… and. Ah. Interesting.  Every now and then, when he’s out trying to figure out where Graphite is going to strike, they play that ringing sound that they usually use for certain types of bugster headaches. The bell-like one, not the static-y screeching.

–––

Emu didn’t use ‘ore’ up until on the roof with Graphite, when he triggers the gashat.

Basically, aggressive Emu isn’t always M, or his acting more like when he was M isn’t always because Parad’s exerting a little bit more influence.

I don’t think that Parad’s even putting that much into Emu/M/Kamen Rider Ex-Aid, honestly. Just using enough of his control over the bugster virus to keep Emu transformed, to keep him from getting hurt by it. Maybe a little extra, to keep him more coordinated.

(Also, I high-key think that by the end of the series, Emu’s less clumsy because he started subconsciously adopting some of his movement patterns as Ex-Aid into his normal life. Just picked up that little extra sense of balance, now that he’s experienced it. He just doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.)

...okay, yeah, the transformation cutscenes are absolutely happening when they’re shown, because Ex-Aid just transitioned straight from his level two upgrade sequence. Like, he went through the usual spiel of bouncing, and then descended, with the background dissolving into pixels as he landed back on the roof, fading between the pink space and reality.

–––

See, this is what Emu gets like when he’s frustrated. He gets sloppy, and rushes, and turns cold. he’s never been this selfish in his desire to save people.

I kind of think he feels he has to be the one to do this not just because the other three riders are a tad… unreliable. Not just because he wants to prove that he can be a doctor. But because he wants to prove that it was worth it 16 years ago.

For the record, even if we run with the novel backstory, I don’t think Emu was actively trying to… well. I figure he just… didn’t really care. He was 8, and lonely, and in pain – both from the growing virus and from just being alone all the time. He just sort of… didn’t really think.

But I also think that he isn’t always sure that his still being here is worth it. Not when he’s struggling to get even just a scrap of respect from his alleged peers, and from his patients. And now he has a chance to prove that it was worth the effort, that he does have value, despite being told over and over that he shouldn’t be a rider, that he fails as a doctor.

Parad looks awfully disappointed in how sloppy Emu’s being today.

And even though Emu’s not in a good place right now, he’s still showing some great tactics, even if he’s being a jerk about it. Grabbing Hiiro’s sword – which was already prepped for a finisher – and using it to make a path to the dragon is inspired. We’ve seen that the ice mode can make a trail on the ground, but never a ramp before. And using that to both get in range and hold the dragon still? Clever. Especially since the only one there who could have gotten close up until now was Taiga, because Jet Combat. Emu and Hiiro only have close range attacks right now, and even if they had their level three forms available, the attacks still wouldn’t be able to keep up with the flight and distance. We saw that in the fight against Taiga just last episode.

Emu manages to get the dragon armor… but he can’t control it.

It doesn’t even look like Emu’s ‘home’ right now, as the armor just sort of… takes over, causing him to attack indiscriminately, with no tactics at all, just flailing and throwing energy everywhere. it’s strong enough to knock Graphite down, yes, but the transformation sparks out almost immediately after. He was at half health when it force ejected. Usually that doesn’t happen until their on their last reserves.

–––

So, that’s episode 9 recapped and theorized! I have to say, I’m having fun doing this. Doing a rewatch-live-blog is interesting. I’m not stuck speculating on events that may or may not be cancelled out the next week like I am with Zi-O. I get to go off on whatever tangent I find relevant, which can lead to new realizations about, say, Emu and Parad occasionally functioning like the Union forms. (Which is a thought that I am not actually completely okay with having come up with, but it sure is one I thought of.)

[thayerkerbasy]

Thayer’s fics - a masterpost

I realized it’s been awhile since I updated my masterpost, so I’m just going to make a new one.  Organized by series, these are the things I have written.  If it’s in a series, it’s part of an ongoing story, but each fic has a proper beginning and ending, so I swear, even though it’s an ongoing story you won’t be left on a cliffhanger.  This officially got long, so it’s behind a cut.

The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel - An at times NSFW accounting of Dean and Crowley’s summer of love told from Crowley’s point of view.

On the Lemonade | Word count: 1780 | Rating: T Summary:  The Mark of Cain so generously gave Crowley a brand new Knight of Hell, but the bromance was up to him.

Drinks and Small Talk | Word count: 3265 | Rating: T Summary:  The entire evening thus far had gone exactly as planned, and as a bonus he and Dean had been invited to join three rather attractive gentlemen for drinks. This addition was not part of the plan, but Crowley was confident in his ability to improvise.

Measure Up | Word count: 6118 | Rating: E Summary:  Crowley had three willing triplets and an enthusiastic Dean Winchester, but a half hour car ride might have killed the mood.

Rub Down | Word count: 5886 | Rating: E Summary:  So Dean wasn’t interested in tender post-sex intimacies. So what? Crowley had four eager participants and a hot tub at his disposal.

Bound to Be Good | Word count: 6684 | Rating: E Summary:  What should have been a simple night of pleasure for everyone had grown complicated. Talking things out with Dean was not going to happen. Good thing Crowley already had private plans involving Sparky.

Up All Night | Word count: 3781 | Rating: E Summary: Crowley had been left frustrated and unfulfilled, but it was no real hardship thanks to the promise of one on one time with Dean.

Waffling | Word count: 2941 | Rating: T Summary:  A long and entertaining night had become a quiet morning, and without distractions, Crowley had plenty of time to think.

Rough Rider | Word count: 10521 | Rating: E Summary:  A week after their entertaining evening with the triplets, Dean was showing signs of dissatisfaction. Fortunately, Crowley had a plan or two. While cheap beer and a rodeo wasn't Crowley's cup of tea, he had to admit there were other delights to enjoy in a rodeo town beyond the captivating sight of Dean in a cowboy hat.

Going Down | Word count: 8973 | Rating: T Summary:  It was supposed to be a fun road trip so Dean could debauch his way across the Upper Midwest. Unfortunately, Crowley wasn't having nearly as much fun as Dean.

A Man and His Dog - Supernatural according to Crowley’s hellhound, Juliet.

From Hell | Word count: 2450 | Rating: T Summary: Juliet is Crowley’s devoted hellhound, but what happened to Juliet when the Winchesters kept Crowley locked away in a warded room?

The Real Blade Runners | Word count: 4813 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley enlists Juliet’s help to find the First Blade, but Juliet begins to realize that there’s something wrong with her master.

Working Like A Dog | Word count: 2378 | Rating: G Summary:  Juliet was stuck guarding the First Blade from anyone who might want to steal it, and being a guard dog isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

In the Doghouse | Word count: 6301 | Rating: G Summary:  Abbadon was dead and life in Hell was good for Juliet. Of course, nobody in Hell is ever truly happy for very long.

Top Dog | Word count: 19763 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley was away with Dean for far too long, but he's back now and Juliet thought that things would finally return to normal. Unfortunately, Juliet's master doesn't seem like himself anymore. To make matters worse, a new arrival threatens to change everything.

Good Dog | Word count: 1566 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley was having the longest stretch of bad days. The Winchesters had half of the demon tablet and the prophet to translate it, rumour had it that the nastiest Knight of Hell had somehow returned, and worst of all, that gangling moose of a Winchester had gutted his dog. Fortunately, Crowley knew just what to do.

What Comes Next - Crowley’s story after season 12.

Sundown, Sundown | Word count: 6220 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley was done. After hundreds of years and one last sacrifice, he was done. Except, somehow, he wasn't.

Roadhouse Ten | Word count: 24152 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley didn’t know what would happen to him after sacrificing himself, but ending up in Heaven with a whole new group of allies was never even on the list. He could have stayed in his own personal heaven reliving his happiest moments, but those left something to be desired. Together with a motley crew of deceased Winchester allies, Crowley set out on a mission to improve his afterlife.

Times Gone By | Word count: 4808 | Rating: T Summary:  Without any way to keep time, it was easy to lose track of the days in Heaven. Crowley didn't so much mind, but some of his new friends needed something to occupy them.

Miscellaneous

The Road So Far | Word count: 1323 | Rating: T Summary: Chuck takes a bit of time off from manipulating the universe and has some regrets.

Rat Out of Hell | Word count: 2386 | Rating: G Summary:  A fugitive in his own palace, Crowley's options were limited. Fortunately his new meatsuit seemed to blend in nicely.  (A 12x21 coda)

Cuts Like a Knife | Word count: 3642 | Rating: T Summary:  All Along the Watchtower from Crowley's view.

Always Stuck in Second Gear | Word count: 29025 | Rating: T Summary:  After Wendy Vincente spilled the location of her brother's secret cabin, Agents Beyoncé and Jay-Z had a lead to follow. Tracking Lucifer while confined to a pickup truck wasn't exactly Crowley's preferred modus operandi, but at least he was in good company. (Takes place in the first half of season 12)

Poetry in Motion | Word count: 2846 | Rating: T Summary:  Always on the lookout for anything that might buy him power and influence, Crowley hears word of something which could possibly be bigger than anything he's found yet. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who wants it. (Set before existing canon, Crowley/Naomi)

Crassion | Word count: 1150 | Rating: T Summary:  On the run from a godly-powerful Castiel, Crowley encounters someone else on the new God's hit list on what might be their last night on Earth. (Canon divergent after 6x22, Crowley/Balthazar)

Rest in Peace | Word count: 2222 | Rating: T Summary:  Crowley was sleeping soundly until someone woke him up. He shouldn't have been surprised to see who was causing such a ruckus. (A 13x04 coda)

The Tentacle Who Knew Too Much | Word count: 2540 | Rating: T Summary:  Supernatural, but angels and demons are tentacle creatures like from Day of the Tentacle. Very canon divergent 6x22 but the meat of the thing is the same.

Melee Hunters | Word count: 540 | Rating: T Summary:  Claire and Kaia have some shopping to do if Kaia is going to be a hunter.  (Dreamhunter)

To Hell and Back | Word count: 2849 | Rating: T Summary:  No one knew what happened to demons after they died. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, somewhere else… it was all a big mystery, but Crowley was beyond caring. Whatever his afterlife was, he just wanted to be done. (A 12x23 coda)

such demons . very cats . much amaze . wow | Word count: 2565 | Rating: T Summary:  Asmodeus left to retrieve his pet archangel and never returned. A bunch of demons had gone with him and they never returned either. Spencer had no idea what he was doing. (A 13x20 coda)

Series co-written with @grey2510 - I’m just dropping series links here.  You can click through for the fics.

Team No Chill -  The adventures of Coleman, Baby, and Mac as they ride around with the Winchesters. MacColby: the (Br)OT3 you never knew you needed.

Hell on Earth - Crowley had always had a plan. Even when he lost, he won. And when he died, he made sure his affairs were in order and that the one person he liked trusted tolerated inherited his most valuable and prized possessions.  Dean wasn't sure he'd ever forgive the bastard.  Juliet couldn't believe she'd been stuck with a blind pup for a new master.