#she actively killed her sister after being tricked into thinking she was a traitor

[cassynite]

it's fun figuring out who ur oc is as you play them

[avengershumanresources]

blood 10 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 9 - part 11

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

10 - a trick

Peter had Sam and Clint notify the guard. Natalia and James secured the Queen and Princess Morgan, and before anyone had time to breathe, Peter stormed Obadiah’s bedchamber.

The king woke with a start, opening his mouth to protest the interruption and stopping immediately when the tip of a sword went to his throat. 

“Is this supposed to be a coup?” he mocked while Peter marched him out of the bedroom toward the throne room. “You’re in over your head, boy.”

Peter didn’t reply, keeping his sword up until they were securely in the throne room where Wong, Steve, and Thor waited with crossed arms. 

“King Rumlow will not stand for this,” Obadiah’s confident tone faded once Peter shoved him forward. “Whatever you’re planning, you’re outnumbered.”

“Per the law, if the council feels the king is unfit, he may be removed in favor of the next in line,” Wong recited. 

“He’s not of age!” Obadiah spat but Steve looked between the men. 

“A few months?” he asked the group. “I saw the records say his birth was yesterday, 22 years to the day.” 

“It’ll be noted,” Wong hummed, the quartet watching the king for his next move. 

“Traitors-,” Obadiah threw a finger between the men accusingly. “Where’s Strange? Not man enough to face me himself?”

“Uncle, if you step down peacefully, you can live out your days unbothered at the border,” Peter offered tersely, watching the manic man for any sudden movements. “Please.”

“Ha!” Obadiah threw his head back, taking a few steps away from the group. “Do you honestly think I believe that? You’ll send that bitch assassin or the cripple missing an arm after me.”

Peter saw Steve tense at the insults, but maintained a firm tone with the disgraced king. 

“Please uncle,” he tried to reason. “There are many who wish to see you punished for your transgressions-.”

“Transgressions?” Obadiah spun on to him. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve tried to bring peace to the kingdom. I’ve broken no law.”

“You ordered the death of my father,” Peter stated, unflinchingly. He stated the older, larger man down. “The punishment for treason is death and I am giving you the option of survival.” 

Shouting was beginning to rise from the courtyard outside the throne room. Flickers of torches and the whinnying of horses soon meshed into the sounds. 

“The men who wish to see you dead far outnumber anyone loyal to you,” Steve warned, eyeing the lights through the stained glass. “You have nothing to offer Rumlow, there’s no guarantee he’ll be willing to waste the men on a lost cause.”

There was a there was a crash from the hall outside the locked throne room door. Swords clanged against once another and the shouting grew louder. 

Turning to the men, Obadiah smirked when someone began slamming against the door. 

“Are you certain of that, Peter?” he asked, his grin growing wider. “Don’t think I was blind to your schemes. I know all that goes on in this castle.” 

He rounded on Peter, a finger prodding the prince’s chest. 

“I heard all about the tavern meetings with the Asgardians and this pathetic attempt on my throne,” he glowered down at him. “I knew exactly why the Asgardians were here, a betrothal, don’t be stupid! I knew about that little slut too. Now she’s with her weak father... probably lamenting how I outsmarted them. You’re a fool, Peter, and you’ll hang for this.”

There was a stunned silence, all eyes falling on Peter, who’d backed away with Obadiah towering over him. Shouts and banging could still be heard from the halls, a group now trying to break down the door. 

All at once, Peter let out a furious yell. He grabbed the front of Obadiah’s sleeping gown with one hand, the other going for a dagger at his side. 

“Do you see this knife?” he snarled, pricking the tip against Obadiah’s neck to draw a single droplet of blood. “My sister used it to defend against that beast you’ve brought into my home. Do you know who gave it to her? One of the most dangerous criminals in the next two kingdoms, pray tell me, uncle- what do you think they will do to do if I don’t kill you now? The assassin who so trusted my beloved sister, he gave her a weapon to defend from you?”

“You’re going to lose.”

“What will they do, Obadiah-,” Peter dug the blade a little deeper into the kings skin, making the man squirm. “When the truth of her death comes out? When the truth of my fathers death? The longest reign of peace and economic prosperity in generations. What will the farmers, whose crops Rumlow burned under your orders, do to you?”

“Peter!” the door burst open and Wong grabbed Peter, teleporting him, Thor, and Steve away before Amora could blast the group. 

She rushed toward the king, hands glowing, while she skimmed him over for injury. 

“The queen and princess are gone,” she reported. “My king rallied his troops the moment he caught wise of what the prince was planning. Sir, he still commits his men to you, per your agreement.”

“No marriage?” Obadiah practically stammered out. 

“My grace, the specifics can be dealt with, should we survive this treacherous siege, now hold on,” she grabbed his wrist and teleported with a cloud of green smoke. 

(—)

“The princess was moved to the crypt,” Loki reported once he met Stephen in the courtyard, his troops readying to support the guard within the castle. “One of the priests heard wind of the siege and gave her a quick blessing before fleeing.” 

That wasn’t part of the plan.

Stephen had done his best to ensure you would have been removed from the stone coffin before you could risk suffocating. With an active battle, there was no guarantee when he could rescue you.

“I have to move her now,” he realized at Loki’s urgent implication. 

“Better now than when the castle is burning,” the prince replied snarkily. His attention was caught by a large flame in one of the guard towers. Obadiah had resisted.

It was time. 

“Go, before I go myself to avoid this barbaric carnage,” Loki pulled on his battle helmet and began to rally his men. 

Stephen didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly drew up a portal to the Stark family crypt below the castle. He raced to the newest section of the tomb, where your grandfather and your father’s empty coffin sat under a carving of your great-grandfather.

He ignited the torches with a wave of his hand, immediately spotting the recently disturbed stone tomb. Raising his palm, he blasted the lid of the entrapment, pushing the stone aside and summoning a light to better see inside. 

To his relief, you were there, arms folded over your chest, body tucked in a hastily wrapped funeral shroud. He ripped the cloth back, pulling your unconscious body out of the stone chamber and draping you over his lap on the ground. 

A quick check of his spell, and it was still holding. Your seidr was still concealed and you were still alive, just in a deep, charmed, sleep. 

He scooped you up, throwing open a portal to the chambers he’d prepared at his home, and quickly draped you onto the bed. 

Sensing his magic, Wanda stepped through her own portal, glancing up at her friend in concern. 

“It’s early,” she noted with a tilt of her head. 

“Obadiah didn’t surrender or attempt to negotiate. Brock joined the attack,” he explained. “The king needs to rally the troops here and notify our allies.”

Wanda gave a curt nod, disappearing as quickly as she’d appeared. 

He returned his attention to you, lightly touching the seidr seal on your wrist and ensuring the spell would hold while he was out of sight.

“I will return my love,” he vowed, tucking a strand of hair out of your face and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He double checked the wards around the bedroom a final time before opening a portal to Tony’s encampment within his estate grounds. 

(—)

“Peter, what’s happening?” Pepper demanded when the trio sudden appeared in her chambers. James and Natalia were both in their feet, awaiting further instructions. 

“Where’s Morgan?” he demanded, moving through the room until he located his baby sister in the old nursery attached to the suite. “We have to get the two of you to safety.”

“She wanted to sleep, James and Natalia told us to stay ready, but-,” Pepper hurried after him. “Peter, what is going on?”

“I’m removing Obadiah from the throne,” he stated matter of factly, scooping up Morgan and grabbing a cook off a nearby hook. “Brock is trying to help him, but our men far outnumber theirs. You and Morgan are being moved to Kamar-Taj for the night, then into the Asgardian keep.” 

“And the lords and ladies?” she stammered out, overwhelmed by his calm demeanor despite the screams and fires outside. She absently took her daughter when Peter passed her off, watching James and Natalia assemble a few more essentials into a small silk bag before passing it off to Peter. 

“Long evacuated, the men who wished to fight still remain,” Steve supplied. “Wong and myself will be accompanying you to Asgard. Queen Frigga will provide passage to Asgard once Brock’s troops are recalled from the border and Amora’s mystic boundary is broken.”

“Kamar-Taj has a prepared trunk for you,” Natalia explained softly. “I put it together with Peter a few weeks ago. It should have what you need until you reach Asgard.”

“What about the rest of you?” Pepper’s gaze feel on Peter. “What will you do?”

“I’m going to kill Brock and Obadiah,” he promised confidently. “Overcome and conquer.”

Pepper paused, reaching for his face and cradling his jaw with her palm. 

“Your father would be so proud,” she whispered, the brief spell broken when an explosion sounded in the courtyard. 

“Magic,” Wong confirmed. “Amora probably summoned her apprentices. We need to move to ensure we are not followed.”

“Be safe, my sweet son,” Pepper kissed his cheek and followed after Wong and Steve, Morgan tucked tightly in her arms. “I love you.”

“Goodbye mother,” he replied, watching the spot in the room until the portal snapped shut and he was left with Thor and the assassins. 

“What now?” James asked, peeking through the queens window nervously. 

“There’s a passage down the hall that should lead you to the armory. Through there, you should be able to reach Loki and our combined men. Mordo and Stephen have called for reinforcements from Kamar-Taj, and they should be able to fend off magic users while we handle the rest.”

“Asgardian forces will be here by dawn,” Thor promised. “With another wave due before nightfall.” 

“Obadiah won’t be missing for long,” Peter continued. “He’s a pig, but not a coward. He will want to oversee things in person, likely with Brock. That’s when we hit them and end this.”

“And Amora?” Natalia quirked a brow. 

“Leave that to Loki,” Thor muttered grimly. “He has a score to settle with the Enchantress.”

(—)

You jolted up with a gasp. 

The room was dark, but something unfamiliar about it sent the seidr in your veins prickling through the goosebumps on your skin. 

Reaching around, you swallowed anxiously. The bed was all wrong. The fabrics not the silks and cotton you’d grown up with. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you realized you weren’t in your bed chambers at all. 

A yell and response outside the window had you scrambling to your feet, spying a number of fires burning in the dark sea of land outside whenever you now found yourself. 

Your groggy brain ran through its last memories. The assault. The conversation with Stephen. 

The sleeping draught. 

How powerful had it been?

You looked down at your hands, a faint glow of violet emitting from your hands and up your arms. You’d barely had time to examine it when the door to the room burst open. 

“You’re not supposed to be awake-,” Wanda stated, swooping on you and catching sight of the seidr. Eyes wide, she tried subduing the small bit of magic, but the moment the crimson tendrils tried touching the violet, the seidr grew brighter and spread more thoroughly over your body. 

“What is going on-?” You reached for your skirts and realized your dressing gown had been changed to a deep crimson formal gown. “Where is Stephen? Where is my home?”

“Princess,” Wanda reached for your hand, but the seidr snapped back at her and she pulled away. “I don’t know what’s happened. Stephen is... I can better explain...” 

She looked overwhelmed, her eyes constantly dropping to watch the raw power radiating off of you. 

“You’ve been asleep for two days, almost three nights,” she stated briskly, and you shook your head, frowning. 

“That’s impossible,” you whispered. 

“The sleeping potion Stephen gave you... it was to mimic the effects of death,” she continued softly. “We’re at the main keep for his family. Princess, the kingdom is at war.”

“Wanda, you were supposed to seal it, what’s taking so-,” Loki stopped in the doorway of the room. “Princess.”

He looked as bewildered as Wanda to see you standing and alert. And twice as concerned with the seidr energy coming from you. 

“That’s not good,” he stated bluntly. “Amora is going to see you like a beacon in the night.”

“Brock’s men have secured the castle already, if he knows she’s alive-,” Wanda agreed, speaking quickly and tersely with the prince. 

“Alive? Of course I’m-,” you paused. Mimic the effects of death. Eyes growing wide with realization as to what Stephen had done, you huffed a sigh. “Brock is still aligned with Obadiah?”

“It’s tentative,” Wanda replied. “But if his Stark bride is alive and well...”

“He’s already calling troops through the Kree empire, and the sea artillery is moving toward Asgardian waters,” Loki frowned, reaching forward and trying to calm your magic with his own. When it spat back at him like Wanda’s, his lips formed a thin line of concern. “Strange’s seal was so powerful I couldn’t sense it, so he isn’t holding right now because of the princess. There’s something else keeping him by Obadiah’s side. This will just soldifiy whatever deal they’ve struck. We need to figure out how to seal the seidr.”

“Could she just learn to control it?” Wanda offered. “I don’t think external means are going to suppress it much longer.”

“Wanda, how long did it take for you to learn to hide your own essence from enemies?” Loki pressed. “We need to locate Stephen.”

Eyes glowing, Wanda nodded and disappeared, presumably to retrieve the sorcerer in question.

“Loki, is my family-?” you started and he nodded. 

“Your mother and sister are in Asgard,” he replied. “Peter is...”

“He’s on the battlefield,” you finished with a knowing sigh. “Do we stand a chance?” 

“The Wakandans have mobilized and will be sending reinforcements soon,” he explained, gesturing for you to hold out the hand with the seal on your wrist. “Incredible. Your power... destroyed the rune. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“The Wakandans have no loyalty to Peter,” you voiced, furrowing your brows. Are they aligned with Asgard?” 

“Well, no-,” he started. “They stand behind House Stark but, there is an important thing you should know now that you’re awake.”

He drew a portal, knowing her couldn’t teleport with your present state, and led you to what looked like a massive dining hall within the same building.

Hundreds of men were resting, some singing ballads and others sharing large bowls of stew and bread. 

You looked to Loki for explanation. 

Was Stephen hurt? Had your brother perished? 

He stood stoically, his gaze falling on the back of a man tending to an infantryman’s dressings. When he turned his head, you gasped and rushed over. 

“Father..?” you hesitated, his face was covered in mud, and he’d grown a large beard, but as soon as you saw his eyes, you knew. 

“Look who had risen from the grave,” he teased. “Welcome to the afterlife. It’s not quite what the priests suggested-.”

You cut him off, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“You’re alive,” you stammered in awe. “I... how? They say a pike went through your chest.”

“Oh, about that...” he touched the from of his chest. “Loki is a very skilled healer, and Wanda foresaw that particular complication... it’s a long story, best served for better conditions.”

“The seidr broke the potion’s effects,” Loki stated, looking down at the soldier and waving a hand over his bloodied wound. The wound was immediately cleaned and the soldier’s eyes drifted shut, his chest soon rising and falling in a peaceful sleep. “We’re trying to locate Stephen. Wanda and myself couldn’t interact with her.”

“I see,” Tony looked to you, eyes following the new elements of magic dancing lazily over your upper body. “Certainly the wards around the keep should continue to mask it?”

“For now,” Loki reported. “If Amora approaches too close, it could mean exposure.”

“You knew about all of this as well?” you looked to your father, still struggling to keep up with everything being said and plotted. She turned to Loki. “And you knew he was alive”

“And Wanda,” Loki added. “Natalia, and more recently, Stephen.”

“What?” you blinked in surprise. That wasn’t right. Stephen certainly would have told you. 

“We couldn’t risk Amora catching on,” your father quickly sensed your shift in emotion. “She was watching you because of your seidr, trying to tamper with your thoughts. You had to be left in the dark until we knew you were a safe distance from her.”

“Amora is a very powerful magic user who betrayed the trust of my mother and yours,” Loki informed you, his hand tensing at his side. “We couldn’t risk her getting ahead of our plans.”

“That’s going to go to waste if we can’t continue the charade you’re dead,” Tony clarified. “Brock is only barely allied with Obadiah. We have the numbers right now, but if he becomes serious about taking our kingdom, he and the Northern Kree far exceed our men, the Asgardians, the Wakandans, and the Southern Kree.”

“Your grace,” a blonde woman in knights armor approached and bowed her head. You noticed that the blood from the cuts on her cheeks was teal- a Kree. “King Odin is riding for us. He will be here within the hour, ready to provide more men.”

“Thank you Lady Carol,” Tony nodded while the female knight bowed and exited the room. Your eyes trailed after her in a dazed stupor. You’d never seen a female knight before. You’d read that the Kree society was more favorable to the female gender, but you never would have imagined the Kree would let a woman directly report to a king. 

“We need Frigga,” Tony sighed.

“We would have to ride to Asgard ourselves. The mystic boundary Amora out on the borders of too powerful, no one has been able to teleport or portal through it,” Loki grumbled. 

Tony cursed under his breath and stood, a hand on your back, guiding you through the mess of cots and soldiers. Some were injured, most were just worn from battle and resting until they were called upon again. 

Leading you and Loki out of the hall, Tony stopped once he was certain you were alone. 

“Only the sorcerers and myself are aware of your situation,” he murmured. “Peter and the queen are none the wiser. We need to keep you within the walls of this keep until Stephen is located and we have our next steps.”

“Can I help at all?” you asked, feeling more like a prized hen than someone who was useful. “I know some healing salves and wound mending?” 

“We can’t risk it,” Loki looked to Tony who was considering the suggestion. “One incident with the uncontrolled seidr and that could be the end of us.”

“My sweet, I’m sorry,” Tony pulled your head in and kissed the top of your hair. “It won’t be long until Stephen arrives and we can make a clearer decision.”

As if on cue, Wanda appeared, blood coating her hands and the dark robes she wore. 

“Stephen was injured in battle,” she explaine, Loki quickly teleporting with her without another word. 

“I bet he’s in the master suite,” your dad mused, a wink in your direction. “He has all of his potions and trinkets in there for emergency.”

You paused, hesitating between leaving your newly alive father, and being by your love’s side. 

“I’m needed in a war council,” he answered the dilemma. “We can catch up when the world isn’t burning around us.”

He gave your hand a final, reassuring, squeeze before giving you a quick layout of the keep. You thanked him, promised to keep him updated, and dashed down the halls. 

As you hurried, you felt your dress restricting your movements, and briefly considered trousers to be a more apt clothing option for the moment. 

It was when you felt the restriction around your legs disappear when you looked down and saw your clothes had shifted. Your crimson gown now crimson trousers, your corset a more reasonable bustier, and a cloth shirt tucked under a matching jacket with the Stark sigil subtly embroidered on the chest. 

Stopping in shock at the change, it occurred to you that the seidr had merely been responding to your mental requests.

That, you could get used to. No wonder Stephen and Loki were always ready for balls and events faster than you. 

You picked up your pace, rushing through the halls until you found the master suite exactly where your father had told you. 

A maid was shuffling out as you approached and you quietly slipped in, doing your best to ignore the blood saturated towels tucked under the maids arms. 

“It was a toxic arrow,” Wanda was explained to Loki. “It isn’t allowing the blood to coagulate properly. He’s going to bleed out.”

“I imagine Amora had something to do with this,” Loki murmured, glowing emerald hands hovering just over the gushing wound. “Strange. Stay with us. Stay awake.”

You were discarding your jacket and rolling up your sleeves, moving toward the makeshift apothecary stand while Stephen kept his eyes squeezed in pain.

“If she enchanted the poison or venom before applying it, we should be able to pull the toxins magically, right?” you recalled from a text you’d read during one of the long nights in the observatory. 

“I’m trying to, but I can’t detect any traces of magic in the wound,” Loki replied tensely.

“I tried isolating a few drops of his blood to detect any foreign components, but the poison is too powerful. It’s using the body’s defenses in its favor,” Wanda looked rattled, a far cry from her usual, composed, demeanor. “If we had more time, I know I could find the proper antidote, but he’s going to bleed out before then.”

Your fingers hovered over the herbs and elixirs, eyes shut while you considered their words and tried to recall the specifics of what you’d learned under his tutelage. 

“Is it actively poisoning his body, or just preventing the wound from clotting?” you asked, your finger twitched toward an herb used to create fiberous seals on wounds from cuts.

“Preventing the cut from sealing,” Wanda reported back, watching Loki try and fall to seal the wound magically. All the rags and bandages he piled ontop of the injury just continued to saturate through. “Bandages are not working. He’s bleeding through everything.”

“We need ice on the wound,” you called out, throwing the proper herbs and liquid into a mortar and pestle. “Shrink the blood vessels and slow the bleeding temporarily.”

Loki’s hand turned to ice and he pressed it on the skin around the injury. 

“It’s working,” Wanda called back.

“Clean the area,” you instructed, the paste now smooth and plentiful. You turned and searched the room for extra bandages, finding some by a pile of Stephen’s ripped and bloodied robes. 

You passed the remedy and bandages to the sorcerers at his bedside, knowing your seidr would prevent you from making close contact with him. The thought in itself breaking your heart. You wanted to wipe the sweat from his forehead, press a kiss to his hand and promise all would be well.

“Put the paste on the bandages and cover the wound. Keep applying the ice until we can get the bleeding to slow,” you watched Wanda move swiftly in tandem with Loki, pressing the seal to the injury and letting the prince take over applying pressure and ice. 

“Princess?” Stephen’s voice called, almost delirious.

“I’m here,” you moved within his eyesight, a smile thrown on your features to conceal your deep worry for him. “What did I tell you about getting shot with arrows, my love?”

“You never mentioned arrows,” he grunted, eyes opening briefly to take you in and closing when he winced in pain. “Next time be more- hngh- specific.”

“Next time don’t get shot,” you countered playfully, eyes falling to the white bandage at his abdomen. Ideally, only a little blood would be able to get through. It’d buy enough time for Loki and Wanda to find a better remedy without letting him bleed out. 

“It’s working,” Wanda announced, jumping and moving to the large library of books scattered around the room. Her hands began to glow, her fingers pulling texts off the shelves and discarding them almost as fast.

“Strange, were you injured anywhere else?” Loki asked tersely, eyeing a cut by the sorcerer’s eye. “We need seal all of your cuts, just in case.”

“Face,” Stephen replied after a pause. “Hands.” 

Loki got to work, smothering the bandages with the salve and covering the cuts. 

“Got it,” Wanda held up a book victoriously. “Antidote will take a few hours to prepare. Loki, you’re going to need to move to the front line. Let Peter and Thor know what is happening. I’ll make sure there’s enough for everyone afflicted.”

“I hadn’t heard any reports of similar circumstance,” Loki murmured, looking back down at the bandage to ensure it was still holding. “This seems personal.”

“To our favor then,” Wanda hummed, summoning her ingredients and moving quickly through the steps. “I will report this to King Anthony. Go.”

Loki disappeared with a flash of light, leaving only traces of smoke where he stood.

“You’re not supposed to be awake,” Stephen realized after you’d seated ourself next to him. 

“The seidr had other plans,” you noted softly. “Do not worry, we will address each problem as it’s necessary. You need to rest.”

“Wasn’t I just tell you that?” 

“Then listen to your own words, you do often boast of how good your own advice is,” you teased. 

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away, frowning apologetically at him. 

“The seidr is… it doesn’t like magic-users at the moment,” you explained quickly.

“That’s… unfortunate,” he mumbled, lolling his hand forward and staring up at the ceiling. “Ever the more reason not to die, I suppose.”

(—)

11- a battle cry 

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing 

@im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol 

@bluefaeriefury​ 

[nanoland]

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6 

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael  

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.) 

0  

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

0

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”  

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

0

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

[thornsofdeath]

phf rants

as i’ve made clear im rlly impacted by this book. dont mind my lowkey venting

damn this is long

mista's coldness towards fugo / the stadium scene as a whole

it really really hurt me to see mista treating fugo, his old partner, his old friend like a dangerous enemy. i know he had his valid reasoning, but that very specific kind of angst shatters me. mista had his gun pointed at fugo for the entire stadium scene, not wavering for even a second. the worst part? it seemed like mista was trying to purposefully incite fugo to snap by right out insulting him and his stand, saying he was glad when fugo didn’t get on the boat. it seemed like he was egging fugo on just so he had an excuse to kill him, to get one more thing off his list of concerns. fugo as a person meant nothing at all to mista. when mista said “kill these traitors, or we’ll kill you” i wanted to cry. mista goes on about hoe fugo is a massive threat because purple haze is unhinged and can wipe out the enitre population if he wanted. fugo politely corrects him, as PH only has 6 capsules and can only attack 6 times in a day. did i see myself in that scene and feel fugo’s pain of just wanting to be left alone and not have to think about the past or the future, silent and melancholic during intervention and just feeling like the only way out is to kms right then and there? thats a secret ill never tell.  phf makes me smad.

there were some little details in purple haze feedback that got me thinking as well. in the 6 months between fugo’s leave and his cold reuniting with mista, fugo was playing piano at a bar. Most of the people who bring this up refer to it as just some cool trick he could get because he’s a rich kid. he is not. in flashbacks, it’s shown that bruno only knows how to cope with distress by isolating himself and bottling everything up. god, did i feel that. sheila e’s life goal was to kill illuso (to avenge her sister) and swore her life to giorno after finding out he killed him, it’s ironic though because in reality fugo had killed him, and in the first part of the book, they weren’t exactly friends. 

another part that really just made me wanna sob and bash my head into a wall was seeing fugo’s pure self hatred. since he was a child, he had it drilled into his head that if he couldnt produce results, he was worthless. after being disowned and thrown into jail with no future, he was completely hopeless. even after bruno came and took him in, he was never free of his liabilities. no matter what he did, he couldnt help seeing himself as some monster, failure, and burden. (kinnie moment) it worsened when he had to abandon bruno’s gang, his only saving grace was bruno, his light, hope, and acceptance. now he was stripped of that, gripped in fear knowing too well that betraying passione would end horribly. deep in his heart he wanted so badly to join them, to join his found family, but the logic he had drilled into his own head of knowing that betrayal was foolish and futile wouldnt let him have his way. hes back on the streets, just like how he was (or wouldve been after getting out of jail) after being disowned. he got a piano gig at a bar, and let himself wallow in grief and depression for 6 months. throughout the events pf PHF, we still see him clinging to memories and trauma. they say “what you let consume you will define you”, and i couldnt begin to describe it any better. putting all of the guilt and blame on his own shoulders, feeling he deserved it all and more. 

either i wasnt paying enough attention (this bitch got some rereading to do) or the purple haze distortion scene was kinda underwhelming. his character arc felt kinda rushed, like most of the book was establishing his bad state and constant flashbacks, and then all of a sudden he has confidence in his abilities and believes in himself. of course, im overjoyed he did get growth, and had a happy ending (depends on how you interpret it). stan fugio

vittorio’s fascination with pain really got me feelin. hgghhhhhhhh hh hnnhhhhh. he describes it well, wanting to feel his life force/energy in the form of pain so that he didnt ‘go extinct’, and the writing of it just saying straight up ‘cutting himself’ ‘hurting himself’ ‘self harming’ made my skin crawl. as someone who suffers with shit like that its both painful and relieving to know a character who has similar habits, whether it’s for the purpose of activating his stand or just to cope. 

2 times in phf, fugo does some kind of suicide attack. of course, he survives both. it’s never made clear whether or not he intended to die/didnt mind dying as it was a way of accomplishing his mission, but either way it got me heavy breathing. the last one especially, when he bites a virus capsule to kill volpe. did he know he’d grown and purple haze would miraculously save him with his own genius plan, or was he going out with a bang? luckily for me it wasnt really gone over like ‘hey you couldve died from that are you doing ok mentally’ or else i mightve felt nauseous reading it. im all for angst, but idk how much more i can take when its day 87 of quarantine and im numb as fuck just waiting to break down. 

angelica’s stand night bird flying (is probably not that complicated im just fuckin dumb) made fugo and everyone else hallucinate/dream. in fugo’s dream, it was pretty much an ideal au.  he was permitted to see his grandma when she was near death (preventing the professor scene), met bruno (fisher boy with fisher dad) on a boat and they became friends, nara went back to school and was doing good overall, abba remained a cop but didnt do any bad things, the whole group was all just good friends having a fun time. god i would licherally sell my body and soul for them all to be happy like that and all live. 

the concept of abandonment also messed me up, just the feeling that everyone say fugo as someone who abandoned the group in their hour of need out of selfishness made me wanna cry angry sad depression tears. hes a good man! let him be ok and happy i will fight all fugo haters no cap

every time i think back to the fugio restaurant scene i just. idk man it hurts me. the pessimistic bitch in me says that it would be unrequited and fugo would only be more sad because even through his efforts, he’s just another pawn working for giorno. on the other hand, it makes me soft n giddy because?? omyfucking god giorno asks fugo to call him giogio when NOBODY ELSE IN THE BOOK had referred to him as that. the fuckin “if grief anchors your feet, let me share it” part makes me wanna jusyt. complete my kin transformation into fugo and be a sobbin g  shaking mess in his arms as he tells me its all gonna be ok. was that a vent? absolutely. anyways, its pretty damn special for the don of the mafia to invite you to breakfast at a fancy restaurant before the place opens and its just the two of you. giorno fixes fugo’s injuries and tells him that he’s proud of his growth, and that he knew fugo could do it. dude?????? if i didnt already know i was a lonely affection/affirmation/attention starved bitch that wouldve done it for me.

holy fuck that was longer than i expected it to be. i do feel better tho

[akozuheiwa]

What do you think would be angstier: Trollhunter!Aja and Changeling!Krel or Changeling!Aja and Trollhunter!Krel? (This assumes that Fialkov and Coranda are normal humans, btw)

Bold of you to assume, first of all, that I couldn't make both of them equally, horribly, beautifully angsty. There are SO MANY WAYS both of these could be played. Both of these will be assuming that the changeling sibling is aware that they're a changeling and an active part of the Janus Order. It got hella long so it’s under a read more to hopefully save your dashes.

I'll start with Trollhunter Aja and changeling Krel. Aja is, in true Aja fashion, thrilled to have been selected for this awesome, sacred duty, and if Krel wasn’t there for the finding of the amulet he’s immediately told. Krel, meanwhile, is quite horrified, because like it or not he's gotten quite attached to his familiar's sister. He'd had this whole plan; get far enough into Gunmar's good graces that he could get Aja and the parents spared. No amount of being in Gunmar's good graces is going to get her spared if she's the Trollhunter, though. No, now he needs a back-up plan and fast, before Aja figures out about changelings and before anyone figures out that Aja's the Trollhunter. That goes about as well as expected, because Bular sees them together and then it's all over.

So, obviously Bular's like, well, you're in the perfect spot to kill her and take the amulet. There are a couple of problems here. First of all, Krel knows that, changeling or not, he could not take on Aja in a fight. Problem two – the main one, the one preventing him from killing her in her sleep or something – Krel likes Aja. Krel doesn't want to kill Aja. He's broken all the rules in the changeling book and gotten woefully attached to his familiar's family. As far as he’s concerned, she’s his sister and he can’t kill her.

So he starts fabricating all sorts of failed “attempts” to kill Aja, which makes him look incredibly useless but keeps her alive. He also does his best to get in the way of Bular and his fellow changelings. He claims most of the time that he’s trying to keep his cover, and all of that, and he’s smart enough to be able to have believable excuses most of the time – and then his cover is blown. Like in canon with Strickler, when Gunmar doubts his loyalties, Bular finds a way to reveal him to Aja.

The fall-out is – bad. Aja is crushed by the fact that the person who she thought was her brother is actually a changeling and betrayed her. Krel’s stuck with a choice – tell Aja he’s been on her side this whole time or let her believe he’s a traitor. If he wants to keep protecting her, he has to let her believe they’re on opposite sides. He can only protect her in secret, because in his mind he’s not strong enough to do so out in the open. So he runs away, lets her think he’s one of the bad guys, lets the bad guys think he’s one of them.

Of course, since it’d be me writing, it would all go terribly horribly wrong. Krel wouldn’t be able to keep his double-crossing a secret for too long. I think Gunmar might end up giving him a task that there’s no way he could fail – not sure what – so he’d be forced to give up his charade. Or maybe Bular, upon finding out, would simply try to kill him. In that case, I think Strickler, maybe, would get him out under Bular’s nose and bring him to Aja.

Aja is initially wary, and maybe she thinks it’s a trick, but ultimately this is still the Krel she grew up with and now she’s hearing that he’s been protecting her all this time. She’s tried to kill him and he’s been protecting her. Once he gets better, Krel will rejoin Team Trollhunters (which at the moment may… just be Aja and Blinky and Aaarrrgghh!!! to be honest) and instead of working from the shadows, he’ll use his intelligence to help. Trollmarket is wary to trust him, so that’s rough, but Aaarrrgghh!!! and Blinky trust him if Aja does.

Now since that’s gotten long I’m gonna switch to Trollhunter Krel and changeling Aja. I had a lot of fun thinking of this one especially. To, you know, up the angst in this one, Krel does not immediately tell Aja. Because it’s me, we’re going to go ahead and say that a Krel raised on Earth has been friends with Seamus for a while, so it’s actually Seamus who’s with him when he finds the amulet. Krel decides pretty quickly not to tell Aja and makes Seamus swear not to tell her also.

Aja, meanwhile, finds out that the amulet has chosen a human. She does not know which human. She does notice Krel and Seamus acting strangely, but after some careful thought she determines the obvious explanation: they’re dating and don’t want it getting out to Seamus’s father. That settles her mind, because there’s no way Krel could be the Trollhunter. It’s Krel! So she keeps an eye on the rest of her classmates even though she kind of doubts it’s a teenager.

So Aja’s busy being convinced Krel can’t possibly be the Trollhunter, and Krel’s busy actually being the Trollhunter with Seamus’s help. It goes… surprisingly smoothly. Krel’s able to use his tech skills and intelligence to his advantage. Now, of course, you might be wondering about the whole Not-Enrique plot that I forgot to think about in the Trollhunter Aja part. Well, the way I’ve envisioned this AU, Coach and Steve’s mom got together a good it earlier. And Steve just became a big brother. So baby Palchuk-Lawrence gets taken and replaced with a changeling.

Krel, like Jim in canon, catches them taking the baby and finds a little stuffed bear and brings it to school. Seamus immediately recognises it, and he’s like, “Oh, yeah, that was Steve’s when he was little but he gave it to – oh, no.” So, much like Claire, Steve gets dragged into the Trollhunter business because of his little brother. We’d probably get a beautifully ironic comment from Krel about how he can’t imagine finding out his sibling was secretly a changeling.

Okay, so, anyway! Cut to that fun battle of Killahead! Aja still doesn’t know about Krel, but she obviously is supposed to be there to open the bridge and welcome Gunmar. She knows the Trollhunter will be showing up. Krel knows it’s a trap, and much like in canon, he has his backup ready to join him. So Krel gets there. And Aja is in human form. So that’s how they both find out, Aja that Krel is the Trollhunter, Krel that his sister is actually a changeling. He’s understandably shaken and betrayed. Aja is incredibly alarmed to find out her brother is her enemy.

The fight… happens. Similar to in canon. Aja probably really doesn’t want to hurt Krel, but Krel – I mean, we saw Krel after it came out that Varvatos betrayed him. He doesn’t take to kindly to betrayal. Anyway, the Trollhunters win. But, instead of Nomura getting sucked into the Darklands, it’s Aja. Krel is understandably cut up about this. They have to find an excuse for his parents, and Krel’s really not sure what to say. I’m thinking Steve gets the war-hammer and Seamus gets the shadow-staff, so that would also be really fun when we get to the Morgana stuff. But, anyway, ultimately, when it comes to the season one finale, a lot of Krel’s motivation to go into the Darklands is to save Aja.

This got really long but I love both of these ideas so I got carried anyway. Hope this is the sort of answer you were hoping for, and sorry it took so long to get to! <3

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 69

Obligatory pun - Nice.

Now that I have that out of my system and can therefore stop making horridly adolescent puns about it, this really is a pretty important chapter.  We finally see what is going to become of Else!

This is also a particularly long chapter - 4500 words, probably my longest to date.  Happy Insert Winter Holiday, Everyone!

I seriously considered splitting it (you can probably figure out where the break would be), but cooler heads prevailed (namely, @satan-parisienne, my beloved beta/sister/IRL!Tyche, and @baelpenrose, my constant source of mutual squeeing).

This is being queued up on December 23, to post on December 24.  I still hope to have a chapter to post next week, especially since what I have is so thematically appropriate for the date ;)

After Grey’s revelation of our timetable, the Council decided that negotiations with Else would take place within twenty-four hours.  To his credit, Eino promised to deliver the lexicon, but admitted that there would not be time for the precisely worded questions to be drafted and approved.  Since we also didn’t have time for Grey to locate another person who had spoken directly with Else, the questions were ultimately unnecessary – I had been making up questions on the fly for Else to this point, so I had no problem continuing to do so.

Once Xiomara closed the channel on our end, I tried to stand.  Almost immediately, my traitorous knees objected and I was only saved from hitting the floor by Xio’s quick reflexes.  “You’ve been on bed rest for the last three weeks, take it slow, dumbass,” she grumbled.

I forced myself into a standing position, propped up on the bed. “I have to talk to Conor and Maverick, and I’m sick of seeing the inside of this bay. Either get me the closest thing we have to a wheelchair, or I’m going to crawl to my quarters.”

“You do realize that even the Ark has backless hospital gowns? Everyone on the Ark would see you practically naked.”

I grabbed her shirt, and my pride was mollified when she leaned forward and gave me the illusion that I pulled her down. “Either get me a moving chair, or I will crawl down the corridor. Naked.”

With a barely-suppressed chuckle, she helped me into some clothes and onto a transport in the corridor. “While we are on our way, I’ll go ahead and give you the rundown of everyone you are going to ask about.  Derek and Sam came out of everything mostly unscathed.  They’re a little more jittery than usual, but that’s honestly to be expected.  Alistair is grumpy as hell from being flat on his back for so long, but once he was notified you were awake, he limited his bitching to the sheets, the mattress, and the lack of exercise.  Charly is awake and alert, but tired and nervous… dropping by to see her would probably be a good idea, honestly.  Grandma Kim is Grandma Kim and taking everything in stride.  Zach is completely undaunted and unimpressed.”

The slouch I had been suppressing made itself apparent in the wake of my relief. “So, everyone is okay?”

“Well, Hannah and Thor are still asleep, but they’ve been upgraded from comatose to just ‘asleep’.  Nixe is breathing on her own, the new lungs are working fine.”

My breath left my body suddenly. “No brain-damage?”

“Not comparatively, no.”

Good. Allowing myself to take in the condition of the real Ark, several things caught my eye. “Xio….”

She grinned and shook her head, locks flying. “Ah. You saw the trees.” I nodded dumbly, speechless. “As soon as they were approved to get out of bed, Derek and Sam started pestering Conor to start setting up the trees for Insert Winter Holiday.  Apparently, they were behind schedule, and Derek was very upset about that.”

“And they’re already done?”

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “They just started yesterday.   Even with both of your boyfriends helping, they still have at least two more days to finish.”

“They’re already decorated,” I murmured.

“Sam was bored while he was on bed rest,” she shrugged. “So there are a lot of really intricate bows to put on all the trees.”

“Awesome,” I gushed enthusiastically. “I love trees that are over-decorated.” When she quirked an eyebrow at me, I rushed to reassure her. “No, I’m serious. The more heavily decorated the better. I know not all cultures do trees for winter holidays, but if there are trees, I love seeing them absolutely covered.” Truth be told, the decorations were helping dismiss some of the melancholy that came from knowing that I almost missed Insert Winter Holiday in everything that was going on. I shook my head to clear the thoughts. “So, I’m going to guess the trees are the reason we are most certainly not headed toward my quarters.”

With a blinding grin, she shook her head. “Nope. They should be somewhere on Level Eleven. That’s where we’re going.”

Soon enough, we stumbled upon an energetic argument between Maverick and Derek. “But this side looks nicer!”

“That’s not how it was placed last year.  The same side should show. That’s why Sam put more bows on the correct side.”

“How can you even tell!?”

Conor was standing back, smiling like he was watching the cutest thing he had ever seen.  When he glanced up and saw me, the smile vanished and he promptly reached between them to point in my direction. “Looks like our girl is up and around.”

Astonishingly, Derek beat them both to me and reached to tap my hand three times in succession, dropping his hand to his side each time.  My heart swelled with emotion, realizing that he essentially just gave me a bone-crushing hug. “Yeah, I’m okay, Derek. Just tired and a little weak.”

I braced myself for a much more physical greeting, but was saved when Conor and Maverick stopped dead in their tracks and backed up slightly.  In their rush to make sure I was okay, it looked like they tripped the proximity alert in Derek’s implant. “Did you do that on purpose?” I asked in hushed tones.

Without looking up, Derek flashed me a knocking gesture, positioned between his body and mine so the other two couldn’t see it. “They get carried away, and if you didn’t walk down here, they may hurt you by accident.” A brief pause. “Besides, they were in quarantine with you. I haven’t seen you since you brought me your blanket.”

“I missed you, too.  And Sam. Looks like he was busy, by the way.”

“You have no idea. Zach was practically buried under Sam’s bows. I got lucky. Mac kept trying to play with them and accidentally tore one to pieces. After that, Sam stopped piling them on my bed.”

“If you see him before I do, let him know the bows are beautiful.”

“Duh. Sam makes the best bows. But I’ll tell him you said that.” With that, he stepped around to the other side of the transport so my partners could approach, with a warning to them about being gentle and not breaking me.  Xiomara was practically vibrating in her seat from suppressed laughter at this point.

“Hey, you two,” I said softly as they gently checked me over before giving a very restrained double-hug. I took a moment to just breathe them in before breaking the news. “Trees look great – are there more this year?”

Conor nodded, shoving a hand through his shaggy hair. “We started cultivating them last year, so they would all be about the same size.  As soon as we were given permission to get up and about, I figured everyone could use the cheer.”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded my head. “You know how I feel about throwing food at people to help recover from a crisis.”

Maverick nodded solemnly. “But, last year when Insert Winter Holiday happened, there wasn’t a crisis, was there?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Xiomara beat me to it. “No, there really wasn’t, unless you count all of us being abducted for our own good.  Which makes this more a need to feel normal than anything else.”

“That was kind of the point last year,” I grumbled.

“And it worked,” she reassured me. “Just like it will work this year.” With that, she issued a very pointed look, silently reminding me why we were here.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Conor and Maverick.  “The reason everyone feels better is because Else is dying.”  Both of the looked confused, so I clarified. “They are killing themselves in an effort to stop hurting us.  They aren’t eating, and they aren’t spreading.  If something doesn’t change, they’ll be extinct in less than two weeks.”

“This is bad,” Maverick stated uncertainly, looking between the rest of us for confirmation.

“It is,” I nodded. “Because they are sentient species, we can’t just let them die off without trying to help. And,” I held up a hand to prevent the inevitable questions and objections, “I don’t mean just letting them go back to making us sick.  Xio and I talked to the Council, there are two solid options on the table as far as relocation – a dying planet or a nebula. The trick is, Else has to agree to whatever is decided.”

“And if they don’t?” Conor asked in the calm tone he always used when he knew he didn’t have all the information.

“If they don’t agree to anything, and keep dying off, we think there is a chance that they will drop below some kind of threshold for sapience.  In that event, it’s mostly likely that they would forget to restrain themselves, start multiplying and spreading again.”

“So, they would dip below sentience and pop back up?” Conor tilted his head skeptically. “I’m not getting something.  Usually, the plants I cultivate don’t end up with feelings and the impulse control of toddler.”

“To begin with, we don’t know how sick we got before they developed that level of intelligence,” I pointed out. “Second… if they do evolve back into sentient status, there is no guarantee they would be the same – version, for lack of a better term.  Different neural connections are what give us our own personalities… this Else wants to help us. What if the next one doesn’t? Worse, what if it wants to actively hurt us due to some primordial memory?”

“Better the devil you know,” Maverick murmured.

I sagged in resignation at what I had to tell them next. “Pretty much.  Which means humanity needs to negotiate with Else to figure out a solution both sides can live with.” Closing my eyes as tightly as possible, I braced for the torrent of words that would inevitably come.

Instead, I got two beats of silence and Maverick speaking softly. “Is there anyone who can do this instead? Anyone at all?”

“Not that Grey has been able to locate,” Xiomara responded over my shoulder as I cracked an eyelid.

What I saw was a clearly upset Conor biting his lips and holding Maverick’s hand, which was resting on the taller man’s bicep.  “Conor?” I asked slowly. “Are you angry?”

He took two deep breaths before answering. “Yeah,” he finally sighed, tension dropping from his body. “But at the situation, which I can’t do anything about.” Gently, he put both his hands on my shoulders and rubbed my arms lightly. “How soon does this need to be done? Is there more time to find someone who isn’t you?”

“No one knows at what point Else will basically devolve into just another bacterial infection,” I admitted. “So, we want to do this as soon as possible, and regardless of the option chosen, as soon as an agreement is reached, they’ll be placed in coldsleep in the interim to prevent further degradation of us or them.”

“You’re being cagey.” Both he and Maverick pinned me with very pointed looks. “That’s never a good sign.”

“No more than twenty-four hours.”

More deep breaths as he stepped away, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his neck as he paced in a small circle.  “That should be enough time to get the rest of the trees up, as long as we just let Derek call the shots on placement. Mav, can you manage to do that?”

He shuddered. “I may need to just find something else to do.   I can only handle so much.”

Conor nodded. “Right then.  You keep our bonnie lass company while they get her ready, let me know when they plan to start. I’ll be there, even if I have to tell Zach and Derek to just – I dunno, space the damned trees out an airlock.”

“Conor, you don’t – “

Two long strides and he was back in front of me, stroking my hair. “Love. I’ve mucked up in a big way lately, letting myself be too afraid and not being there like I should be.  ‘S not fair to you, ‘s not fair to Mav being pulled like that.  I understand if you don’t want me in there, with the way I’ve been acting, but otherwise? I’ll be parked by your berth til we land this lady on the colony if I have to be.”

With a sniffle, I nodded my head silently. Xiomara was not as convinced. “Conor, if you lash out one more time, I will take you into custody, do you understand?  I could not believe that you raised your voice the way you did before – you are one of the kindest people I know.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He managed to sound only slightly embarrassed by his previous behavior.

Wiping my eyes, I straightened the best I could. “Okay. I need to head back to the med bay – I’m exhausted. Maverick, ride back with me?”

“You got it, Sophie.” With that, he hopped in behind me in the transport

Twelve hours and a nap later, I was in my all-too-familiar berth in medical, being hooked up to an infusion drip for medication.  By grace alone, there was no need to hook me up to any wires like there would have been on Earth – they could monitor my brain and cardiac activity with scans instead.  “No sedation if I get mad again, okay?” I demanded sternly. “I need to be clear-headed for this.”

“I make no promises,” Grey replied in a very similar tone to when they observed that my plants had grown. “If your heart rate becomes dangerous, or you show signs of an anxiety or panic attack, I will sedate you for your own sake.”

Ugh. Grey was back to being logical. “Can I at least request the minimum effective dose, nothing more?”

One dark eyebrow arched. You are on thin ice, it screamed. “That is acceptable, provided it does not endanger your health.”

Before I could do more than scowl, the door hissed open to reveal a daunting number of people. In addition to the entire Council, I saw Tyche, Antoine, Alistair of all people, Zach and Derek.  Bringing up the rear was Conor, who quickly darted over to my far side, beside Maverick.  Tyche and Antoine took up their now-usual positions on my other side, with my sister’s grey eyes colder than I had ever seen them, daring the Council to try to make her move.

They better have Archimedes’s lever if they plan to try that, I mused. Gently resting a hand on her arm in solidarity, I turned to face the breathless man who just sat on my opposite side. “You made it,” I whispered.

“Told ya I would,” he grinned. “Can’t abandon you and Mav to do this alone.” He glanced up and his brows instantly furrowed. “Why’s the Council here?”

Maverick tackled that one, having been present for the initial explanation. “In case any solutions are suggested by Else that weren’t already covered by the Council, but have merit.”

“Okay… How’re they supposed to know what is discussed, exactly? Noah can only get vague hints, can’t they?”

Grimacing, I rocked my head side to side in hesitancy. “Yes and no? They know the lyrics to songs that are stuck in my head, sometimes.  Or at least understand the concepts enough to make it seem like he does.  We are going to try having me stop and repeat, slowly and emphatically, what Else is suggesting if they go off script.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“I’ve – I may have been given executive authority in an emergency,” I admitted.

Conor whistled through his teeth. “Sophie. That’s – that’s a lot of pressure.”

“No shit,” I muttered before turning to everyone else standing in the room. “Okay, is this my entire watch party, or are we still waiting?”

Simon spoke up – he was getting better at that. “This is everyone. And a few extras, but I am not going to be the one arguing with your family, especially since the majority agreed to stay out of your way.” He coughed and rubbed his neck before explaining the obvious exceptions. “Tyche and Antoine are claiming official capacity.”

My sister held her head high, chin out – if there was an encyclopedia entry for not gonna budge, that profile was probably the photo next to it.  “Should something happen, the responsibility would fall on me to identify candidates for her replacement to suggest to the Council. Since I would rather not, I am staying to observe and ensure it doesn’t come to that.”

Before Antoine could do more than straighten his spine, Grey spoke up. “Mr. Costa is a medical professional, and I have requested him be present, in that capacity, for this procedure.”

Eino attempted a token argument. “Councillor Hodenson, you are a doctor. Can you not – “

“I have a doctorate. Three, actually: biochemistry, genetics, and molecular chemistry.  None of that replaces practical training, which Mr. Costa possesses and I do not.”

The educator’s hands went up, mollified. “I stand corrected. Objection withdrawn.”

“Okay, can we please get on with this before I have fourth thoughts?” Second and third were out the window at this point – I had been lying in the berth with nothing else to do but worry for nine hours at this point.

“Any further objections or inquiries from the Council before we proceed?” Grey asked drily.  When only silence followed, they nodded. “Per my reports, Else can currently only communicate when a person is in a REM state. Our previous attempt involved Sophia being lucid during this process, to great effect.  However, I believe that her complete immobility is what caused the difficulty in relaying information back to Miys.  I have adjusted the medication to allow for voluntary muscle control in order to allow her to hopefully subvocalize while relaying information, as this has shown to provide accurate communication with Miys.  Sophia is already aware, but to ensure there are no surprises, a spinal block will be placed in order to limit motion to head and jaw. This is only to prevent flailing and potential injury to Sophia.”

Tyche and Conor both turned toward me with wide-eyed stares. I just nodded. “We’ve tested it a couple times to make sure I could still talk.  It’s the same way Noah kept me from hurting myself further when I came aboard, originally.” Unspoken was the fact that being held down freaked me the fuck out, whereas I had found the spinal block did not do the same thing when I knew to expect it.  In theory, dream-me would never notice the difference.

Grey continued. “Miys will begin transmitting Eino’s lexicon into Sophia’s lingual implant.  Sophia, please recite the lexicon once it starts transmitting.  This will allow us to monitor communication, both from us to your implant and from you to Miys.” They looked around the room. “It is essential that no one speak unless absolutely essential that they do so.  Sophia will perceive this as being whispered, and it is imperative that she hear the lexicon accurately.”

“I love you,” I whispered to the four sitting around my bed, before I started reciting a list of words.  True to Eino’s promise, his team had put together a much more concise recording, one which looped back to the beginning.  Within thirty minutes, I had completed the entire list twice: once completely out loud, once seeming to trail off as the sedation took effect. The spinal block gave a similar sensation to being weighed down by a heavy blanket, making it more therapeutic than nerve-wracking, and only encouraging the sedatives.  When I stopped speaking aloud, Grey nodded to confirm that I was still subvocalizing effectively.  Not long after that, my eyes drifted closed.

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in the familiar dream-Ark, still reciting the lexicon. So far, so good. I wanted badly to call out and check on Else, but determinedly stuck to the script.  Tears of concern flowed down my cheeks as I completed repetition after repetition. Were we too late? Was the threshold closer than we expected?

Threshold. Late threshold.

“Else!” I cried in relief. “Are we too late?”

Threshold further.

“The threshold is further away? Is that what you mean?”

We mean threshold further away.

Belatedly, I remembered I needed to supplement the lexicon with my questions. “That would be a yes. Thank goodness.  I was worried you would be – no longer here.”

We are here.

“We know what you are doing.  You don’t have to kill yourself. We don’t want you to go extinct. We want you to live, just like you want us to survive. I’ve been sent to discuss options. Most likely relocation, like we talked about before.”

We do want you to live. What are the options?

There we go. Much more coherent.  I sat cross-legged on the floor, craning my neck around. “Is there any chance you can try to… manifest or create something for me to look at? I keep trying to see you, just out of habit, and it would be easier if I had something specific to look at.”

I will try.

Slowly, a fuzzy yellow blob came into focus on the floor in front of me. It was about the size I associated with a corgi, but bright yellow.  I couldn’t help the grin that stretched across my face as it slowly drew on grass-green eyes and too many stubby appendages.

Else looked – cute, for lack of a better term.  Like an oversized, fuzzy, cartoon caterpillar

“That works,” I laughed.

I tried to manifest as non-threatening as possible.

“I think you nailed it.” I couldn’t help wondering if this was what Else would look like as a larger being. One could only hope. “The people on my ship have asked me to negotiate with you.  They are monitoring the best they can what I am saying, but there are going to be times that I need to repeat something to be absolutely sure. When that happens, I am going to do this – “ I touched my ear with my hand. “That way it is clear – to me – that I am repeating it for my shipmates, okay?”

Okay.

Still going well.  “Like I said earlier, we know you have stopped feeding, and stopped reproducing.  There is a serious chance that you won’t be sentient anymore… you won’t be you.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone.

“But… Else. If you stop being you, you won’t remember that you don’t want to hurt anyone.  What is the first thing you remember?”

Hungry.

“Exactly,” I pointed out. “You’ll just be hungry, again.  We want you to stay who you are now – intelligent, with feelings, and able to communicate with us.  And we hope to help you with that.”

Help how.

“Well, you and I already talked last time about taking you to a nebula, or to an iron rich planet with no atmosphere.  We can even place beacons to let others know you live there, so maybe a species who doesn’t depend on iron to survive can find you.”

We really like humans.

I sighed. Of course they did. “The problem there is that we need the iron you eat so that we can function properly, just like you need it.  Even if you die faster without it, we can still die without constant transfusions.” I focused on what it was like being in medical, sick and scared, connected around the clock to a machine that basically fed Else. “Humans cannot thrive like that. But you can thrive without us.”

I was one-third my current population when I realized I was hungry.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Wait. Did you just tell me the threshold for you to be sapient?”

Yes.

Breathless, I reached up to touch my ear and focused as hard as I could. “Whoever is speaking in fractions out there, I owe you dinner.” I repeated it several times in a whisper, praying it made it through clearly. Finally, I turned back to Else.  “The information you just gave us creates more options, Else.  We can ensure you survive.” I stood and started pacing around the now-wiggling caterpillar.  “If we remove you from our bodies, can you survive in a culture?”

Yes. There are several of me in cultures now.

Right.  Grey’s tests. “If we removed you, placed you in cultures, would you promise to stay in the cultures and start reproducing again?”

I can, yes.

“Next step: Half of you in a nebula, to guarantee you would survive, and half on a planet?  You could potentially be like Miys, and develop more individuals of your species without risking your sentience.”

Thirds.

“Not thirds, halves.” It seemed confused by the change in fractions.

Nebula, planet, Ark. Thirds.

Not as confused as I thought, apparently. “You want us to keep part of you on the Ark!?” I asked incredulously.

All options. One-third of me in a nebula, ensure survival.  One-third on a planet, meet a new species.  One-third on Ark, in culture, stay with humans. Absurdly, it wiggled even more, as though excited at the idea.

I repeated the proposal back to the Council and Miys, again praying they heard me.  After several minutes of hoping in vain, I received nothing.  Knowing that much more time was passing for them, if I hadn’t had a response by now, it wasn’t coming.

“I need to think this through,” I said aloud. “The Council agreed to taking you to a nebula OR a barren world… surely they would agree to both of those, no problem…. But they didn’t agree to you staying on the Ark, except in coldsleep.” I changed direction and paced clockwise this time.  “They – we – also had no idea that you would be willing to stay in a culture, like some fish in an aquarium.”

Aquarium. I like that. Can I stay in an aquarium instead?

“On the scale we are talking, it’s basically the same thing, but please don’t push your luck,” I scowled at the wide-eyed caterpillar.  That thing was just too fucking cute, which was decidedly not helping me.

Executive authority. Executive authority.  I had the power to make this decision, but probably because they knew I would agonize over it. With a groan, I stopped in my tracks. “Else, if we let part of you stay on the ship, we need a guarantee of good behavior.  Meaning, if you infect us again, you have to agree that we are taking that entire third of you to the nearest nebula or planet. Do you understand that?”

The caterpillar fucking bounced, like it was happy. Yes, I understand. And I agree to those terms.

I was going to regret this. I just knew it. Huge mistake.

“Welcome to the Ark, Else.”

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[bytheangell]

I Don’t Regret It If You Don’t Regret It

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Seelie!Alec for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Rating: Teen and Up  -- Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: With their realms at odds, Seelie Knight Alexander Lightwood and Prince of Edom Magnus Bane know that what they have between them can’t last forever... but that doesn't make it any easier when the consequences of their love fall upon them.  -----------------------------------------------  

Looking at Magnus behind the bars of his cell, arms and legs bound tightly with unbreakable vines covered in razor-sharp thorns which cut into his skin with the slightest movement, Alec finds he isn’t surprised, only full of sorrow and regret. This is where they were always meant to end, isn’t it? He sees the same resignation in Magnus’ eyes - hurt and frustrated, but not angry, not at Alec.

There isn’t much time. Alec takes a moment to close his eyes, remembering the moments that brought them here, the ones leading up to the decision he has to make. He needs to take one last moment to be absolutely certain he’s making the right decision.

---

Alec knew from the start that what he had with Magnus couldn’t last. It shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did, and he needed to cut his losses before they pushed things too far. After all, Alexander Lightwood was a Knight of the Seelie realm, sworn to protect and serve his Queen; and his Queen loathed Lilith and Asmodeus, the rulers of Edom the warlock Magnus Bane was sworn to protect and serve. They couldn’t have what both of them so clearly wanted, and they both knew it. With their realms on the constant brink of war, their dalliances could’ve been considered an act of treason.

But every time they crossed paths it always ended the same.

It was easiest for them to meet in the mortal realm when they were sent to represent their people at summits and meetings with the other Downworlders and members of the Shadow World. They were tracked less closely there, often the only ones of their kind, and could sneak away for a few minutes, maybe even hours if they got lucky. They’d been doing this long enough to know the tricks to not getting caught, able to pinpoint the perfect circumstances and orchestrated them whenever possible.

They swore it was a one-time thing until it wasn’t. Each time after that ended with the promise it was over. It had to be, for both of their safety. And it was just a fling, wasn’t it? Surely they wouldn’t continue to risk their lives over a few casual hookups?

It didn’t take long for them to realize it was so much more than that. When it happened, Alec couldn’t say. But at some point, it became less of a physical connection and more of an emotional one. They spoke as much as they didn’t during their time together, learning of the other’s family and friends, their hopes and dreams.

A bond formed between them that Alec insisted connected their very souls with how deep it ran, begging his sister when she discovered them just outside one of the entrances to the Seelie Realm one day and Alec had to beg her to keep his secret.

To his surprise, she didn’t even try to talk him out of seeing Magnus again. In fact, seeing how happy the warlock made him Izzy actually encouraged it, going so far as to help cover for him on the rare occasion he slipped up and needed an alibi.

There was an attack. The number of dead Downworlders was too high to think about without making him sick, but Alec only cared about one. When he saw Magnus alive and well it nearly killed him to not be able to run over and embrace him, but they were in public and there were too many eyes. When they found a moment in private later and Alec admitted that he loved Magnus, Magnus knew Alec meant it, and not just because he couldn’t lie. Magnus could lie, of course, but Alec believed the words as they were returned to him with all of his heart just the same.

They never brought up the idea of abandoning their lives and running off together; Alec knew as well as Magnus that their sense of duty and allegiance was too strong for either of them to abandon entirely. They had family and friends in their realms to protect, after all.

So they kept meeting in secret. Sometimes Raphael arranged for the Dumort to be a safe haven for a short period of time when there were too many eyes at the Institute. His friendship with Magnus and their history together meant his assurances that the clan would never speak of seeing them together there were accepted, no questions asked. Sometimes it was a quick kiss stolen in the depths of the woods in the Seelie realm, or a moment of passion taken too far in the dry sand or against a warm rock in Edom. Sometimes all Alec had was the graze of Magnus’ hand on his lower back as he turned to leave a meeting to hold him over for weeks, sometimes months, before an excuse arose to bring them back to the same place again.

In a stroke of genius, Magnus had started to bribe many Downworlders to throw more parties than usual with an open invitation to all of the Shadow World - a risk for prying eyes but a perfect excuse for them to be around one another more often, but soon even that wasn’t enough. Magnus wanted more, and Alec agreed. They began to meet in secret, not just when they happened to be in the same place for a meeting or party, but actively sneaking away to steal anywhere from moments to entire nights together.

The longer they went without being caught the more they hoped that maybe, just maybe, they could have this for themselves. Magnus and Alec were as careful as they could be without taking that final step to end things between them.

They weren’t careful enough.

Someone saw them. Alec wasn’t sure who, or when. He didn’t know if it was something they could’ve avoided, maybe one of those ‘innocent’ touches at a party was seen for what it truly was, or maybe some nosy Shadowhunter glamoured themselves and followed them one night after they left the Institute. Maybe no one sold them out and it was simply the Seelie Queen and her annoying habit of knowing more than she should.

Magnus was summoned to the Seelie Court. The moment Alec heard he knew something was wrong - there was no reason for any warlock to be called to see the Queen today, certainly not Magnus specifically, and especially not alone. Except he wasn’t alone, because the Seelie who came to tell Alec was sent by the Queen herself to make sure he was in attendance.

Alec knew what was about to happen, and no sooner had he arrived did the Queen announce that Magnus had broken Seelie Law. Magnus, appearing far calmer than he had any right to, demanded to know on what grounds he was being arrested.

The Seelie Queen stated cryptically that he took something that belonged to her without permission, shifting her gaze behind the warlock to look directly at Alec. Magnus turned his head as well and the moment he turned to confirm his suspicions Magnus gave Alec the best half-smile he could muster and mouthed ‘sorry’.

As if somehow Alec would be mad at him for this. As if he had anything to apologize for.

And then he was gone, taken away by knights who were very specifically not Alec. The Queen intentionally left so that she crossed his path, stopping to say just low enough for only him to hear that he and Magnus would never be together again and if he valued his own freedom he would choose wisely, whatever that meant.

Alec spent the entire day waiting for his own summoning to speak with the Queen but it never came. Then he spent half the night asking around to find out exactly where Magnus had been taken. He had a plan. It wasn’t a good one, hell, it was probably the most foolish thing he’d done in his entire life, and that included the months spent sneaking around with a warlock, but his mind was made up as he made his way to Magnus’ cell. Izzy helped him distract the guard to get access to Magnus, telling her he just wanted to speak with him again. If she knew what he truly planned she never would’ve agreed to help him so easily - there’s no way he would come back from helping Magnus escape, the Queen would either kill him or he would spend his life exiled and on the run.

But it was the only option he had, the only thing he could do now; no other option felt right, no other path acceptable in his heart.

When Alec arrived outside of Magnus’ cell, it was to make himself a proper traitor to the Queen.

---

Thinking back on it feels like his life flashing before his eyes. He’s only known Magnus for about a year but nothing before meeting Magnus seems to matter, and neither will anything after should Magnus be left to die here because of him.

“Alexander…” Magnus says softly.

Alec shakes his head. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. This isn’t your fault. I should’ve been more careful. The odds that this is because someone spotted me leaving and-”

“Hey,” Magnus cuts him off. “If I don’t get to be sorry then neither do you.”

That makes Alec smile in spite of everything. Running a hand along the cell door in front of him he can feel the magic within the bars and reaffirms that the Queen expected him to try and free Magnus. He knows because he can feel the Seelie magic tied to this particular cell and what it means - he felt it the moment he walked in. The possibility that he cannot simply let Magnus go should’ve been one he anticipated - the Queen warned him they couldn’t be together, that he had to choose his own freedom. She planned for this, of course she did.

Alec hits his fist against the bars in frustration. This changes everything… but it changes nothing. He still plans on freeing Magnus but decides to ask one last question to be certain it’s worth the sacrifice.

“Would you take it back, if you knew how it would end?” Alec asks him. Magnus has no reason to lie, imprisoned and facing certain death. Alec wouldn’t blame him for saying yes, for wishing he kept himself out of Alec’s life, or at least that they’d ended things sooner.

“Not a second of it,” Magnus promises, and Alec’s mind is made up.

“Me either.”

Alec places his hand upon the lock and closes his eyes, making his intention clearly known to the magic held there. He waits with bated breath when nothing happens at first, and then the door swings open. Magnus’ eyes widen in shock.

“How did you-”

“I know what you said earlier, but I am sorry for this.” Alec knows it isn’t what Magnus would choose, which is why Alec doesn’t give him the option. He reaches a hand out to grab the vines wrapped around Magnus’ body. The moment he does they react to his touch, sliding off of Magnus and snaking their way around him instead, binding his arms and legs together painfully.

Alec fell to his knees, and though free now Magnus made no motion to stand or flee, eyes trained on Alec and hands already reaching out to try and free him from the vines.

“Don’t,” Alec warns. “They won’t react to your magic, and you’ll only make them pull tighter.” This froze Magnus in place, not wanting to be the reason the thorns dug deeper than they already were.

“Alexander, what have you done?” Magnus whispers sadly.

“I made an equal exchange. She knew I’d come, and instead of leaving guards she left me a choice. The cell is bound to the crime, not the criminal. It must hold one guilty of the crime-” Alec explains.

“-and we’re guilty of the same crime,” Magnus realizes. “I can’t let you do this. Please, put them back. I’d never ask for you to trade your life for mine,” Magnus insists, holding his hands out in offering.

“I know you wouldn’t. I also know if our roles were reversed you wouldn’t hesitate to do the same for me.”

Magnus opens his mouth but closes it again without a word, unable to argue.

“She’ll be kinder to me, if only because I’m one of her own. She certainly won’t kill me.” That alone makes this exchange the only option in Alec’s mind. If Magnus remained a prisoner it would only be a matter of time before the Queen grew bored and killed him. Alec is fairly certain she wouldn’t do the same to him, and he’ll take those odds over the alternative.

“If it makes you feel any more at ease, I don’t think this cell was ever meant for you. She knew if she threw me in it as an order there would’ve been an uproar. This way she can keep her favor and claim she tried to allow me my freedom while we both know this was always meant to be my fate for betraying her.” Alec would do anything to guarantee Magnus’ safety, to ensure the Queen won’t go after him again, and she knows it. She has Alec wrapped around her pinky finger for the rest of his life. She never truly wanted either of them dead - she only wanted her favorite Knight back under her thumb where he belongs.

And here he is, bound and waiting.

“I’m not certain anything could make me feel at ease right now” Magnus admits, voice wavering with emotion.

“Not even a kiss goodbye?” Alec asks. They’re sat close enough to touch if only Alec’s arm weren’t bound behind his back. Magnus shifts towards him, tears now spilling silently from his eyes, hands moving to carefully come to rest in small spaces of Alec’s sides not already occupied by the vines.

For all the pain he’s in, both physically and emotionally, it all seems to settle the moment Magnus’ lips are pressed gently against his own. It’s slow and deep, and Alec can feel every emotion conveyed they don’t have time to say aloud.

“Now leave,” Alec breathes out the moment their lips part, Magnus’ face still close enough that he can feel his breath warm in the space between them. “You know the way out. Be careful, but something tells me she isn’t going to stop you. I’ll never agree to serve her again if she hurts you, and she knows it. She needs me too much to risk it.”

There’s a small, sad smile on Alec’s face, relief over knowing Magnus would be able to live out the rest of his life mixed with pride over being the reason why he’ll be safe and unspeakable heartache over the fact that it means he may never see him again.

“Take care of yourself, Magnus.”

“I’ll come back for you,” Magnus promises. Alec knows he means it - he’s going to try, at least, probably longer than he should. Alec doesn’t have the heart to tell him not to bother. “I’ll find a way. I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you too.”

It’s the only truth Alec can afford him because he doesn’t share in Magnus’ optimism.

Watching Magnus leave Alec catalogs every curve of his body, every sway of his hair in the breeze certain it’ll be the last image of him he’ll have to hold on to.

As his Queen appears shortly thereafter, tisk-ing and shaking her head at him through the bars in unsurprised disappointment, Alec can only hope the memories will be enough to carry him through.

[flydotnet]

Euthanasia

VRAINS Rarepair Weeks 2018 - Day 4: Birthday/Dying

Summary: [Euthanasia: substantive. From the Greek for "happy" and "death" ; literally, "a happy death".] He is dying in his beloved's arms, but it's too late to realize that, and it's too late to tell her about it. He simply wishes she wasn't crying over him in his last moments. That must be why he doesn't want to die now.

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS Ships: Hireshipping (Ema/Akira), platonic and brotherly Akira & Aoi

Wordcount: 2.3K words

Notes: Shhh I skipped Day 3 and I know it, I simply wasn't inspired at all by festivities yesterday lmao. Sup you non-only-DSS-shipper peeps, remember when I made y'all suffer with some angst? Well, it's back woopsie daisy. I've never continued Cyber Thunder Cider (still need to, despite my canon being outdated af by Ema and Kengo's actual situation that was revealed afterwards in the show), so I'm here to bring you what would essentially be the other side of that story. I originally wanted to subvert the prompt with some shitty proverb but instead it's dead-ass angst. Deadass Hire angst because who doesn't want more Hireshipping and suffering in their life? Well, maybe you don't, but I sure do and I'm the one with the angsty Hireship fics here.

Event hosted by @vrainsrarepairweeks

AO3 version available here.

Almost shot through the heart, huh.

 That was rather ironic to think about: he had survived many potentially lethal deals in a shady back alley to finance his sister’s happiness, and yet this would be the end of him. What an ironic ending to his life. It was by saving someone else from death that he granted it upon himself once and for all.

This person he had saved was clutching him against her chest with little consideration to how much he was bleeding out. It was heart-breaking in such a selfish way: he didn’t want the last moments he’d see her to be so sad and painful for her. He had never wanted to see her cry and especially not because of him.

 He wished he could tell her not to weep over him, that’d it be okay. After all, she called for an ambulance as soon as she realized he had been shot: she had done what she could already. There was no reason for her to feel bad about something he had decided to do for her sake: he had never been forced to do so, he simply wanted to save her. Ema’s life, in a moment, mattered much more than his. It still did then: he was actively dying now, and she was alive, safe and sound, albeit miserable. No matter which way he tried to see it as, it was still better than letting her get shot. Would it have gotten her, she would have been killed on the spot.

Bleeding out to death was a weird way to go. In a day and age of instant demises, of lives ending shorter than they got conceived, it was surprising to him that he had been given the time to see Ema’s sorrow over his incoming end and to reflect on his own life. Not that there was much to say about it before his parents had died: afterwards, it had been day-to-day survival, switching between school and back-alley jobs he could never be proud of having done, all for Aoi’s smile which slowly disappeared because he hadn’t given her the attention she deserved. Ah, Aoi…

 “Ema, can… Can I ask you something…?” His voice was groggy and struggling to escape from his throat, as if caught inside by a spider’s sticky and tricky web. It was exhausting to even speak, but he had to do this for Aoi’s sake.

“O-of course…” Her own voice was hesitant, almost wishing not to exist. Through his blurry vision, he could still she was turning away from him, pinching her lip, a tear running down her cheek. Would he have the strength to do so, he would have landed her his handkerchief for her to brush away her tears.

“Can you promise me to watch over Aoi for me… Please…?”

His demand was split in the middle by blood pouring out of his mouth. His lung had been touched. Her own face looked like it had been split apart by it.

“O-of course I will…”

Ema seemed very unsure of her promise, as if doubting her certitude to assure it. Now this was more worrisome… However, that might have been because of how upset she was.

 Still reassured to hear her agree to it, he swallowed back more of the blood he coughed out. The bullet had lodged itself inside his left lung, near his heart that was beating three times too quickly, and yet his pulse was weakening by the moment. His body didn’t know where to go while he was somewhat at a peace of mind: all he needed to do was to make sure Ema and Aoi were both safe. He had saved the former from getting mortally shot: she would take care of the latter. He could sense Aoi had a fondness for the cyberhuntress already, it would only be a question of time.

“By the way… You can get my flat….” He added to make sure they would live perfectly fine when he’d be gone.

 Ah, he was still fairly young to die, now that he thought about it. Dying at twenty-six wasn’t exactly going very far in ages where the average life expectancy was around ninety years of age. Oh well, it was too late to regret doing this. A hand on the dampness that had become this suit he felt like he always wore, it was time to even think back on everything, but his mind blanked. They said your entire life flashed before your eyes before you died, but his never came back to unfold itself again to him. Instead, all he could see was a blurry rendition of Ema’s sorrowful face.

It was as though seeing her so torn over his demise was what prevented him from exhaling his last breath. He didn’t want to die, far from it: he at least wanted to see Aoi become an adult, date a boy or a girl he would be overly suspicious about like a strict father only to warm up to them when he’d see how much they cared about his sister, graduate college and go on to have a life he hoped would be even more successful than his. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t become like him: a workaholic figure that should have been there and wasn’t, who would come home late and get scolded by his own hired huntress for running himself to the ground. He wanted to see his sister become a great woman, to see her continue doing what she wanted, to save the world like she was already doing with Soulburner and Playmaker.

And he wouldn’t be there to see it, and it broke his heart to even think about.

 He would miss Aoi for sure, but he would also miss Ema and her cheeky smile. They had known each other for years, meeting through the Internet like so many people did around him. He didn’t want to see her go anytime soon, thus why he continued hiring her to the very day he was shot and killed. He simply didn’t expect today to be that day, and that she’d cry over him. For such an independent woman who disposed of data that could ruin people’s lives like she’d give out papers in the streets for some association or other motive, she was incredibly emotional and shaken by it. He’d have thought death didn’t affect very much and that he was, to her eyes, yet another hirer, yet another temporary boss.

Ema was who he wasn’t, and he loved her for this. Her mischievous spirit was always amusing to see in action, always coming up with new ways to trick others into fulfilling her objectives. It was this capacity to always have the upper hand over others that fascinated him at first. He had eventually grown to appreciate most aspects of her: her smile, her winks, her sisterly instincts about Aoi. He knew he could trust in her when everyone else would have dismissed her as shady and traitorous. It was more complex than that: she chose who she was loyal to, and he was lucky enough that she was loyal to Aoi and him.

 He didn’t want to see Ema go. If he could, he would have selfishly made it so she would remain with him until he gave out his last breath, but he was still aware help was coming. The scent of her flowery perfume was the only thing keeping him from gagging over the stench his blood constituted in his nose, a smell of copper and iron fought against by the spice of flowers that simply matched her personality perfectly. Maybe he actually was in love with her. Well, why the maybe? He was in love with this cyber Amazon, completely infatuated with everything she was; and he was lucky enough to be dying in her arms and not anyone else’s.

He never thought he’d see her cry over someone’s death. It just didn’t seem like an “Ema thing” to do. At best, he was hoping she would ask him how he was seeing his hand covered in red, but instead she caught him in his fall and gently laid him on the ground. This was awfully considerate of her: most people he had worked with before would have run away for their lives instead, either fearing losing it directly or losing their freedom by getting involved in a murder. At least, he knew she would watch over Ema for him once he’d be dead, which was just waiting any second to finally decide itself to happen. He didn’t want to die now, but if he had to… then be it.

 “Akira…?” Ema asked him, voice full of uncertainties and hiccups.

“Yes…?”

“Why did you do that, you fool?!”

Oh. There was this question again. She had asked him before, but he had been unable to reply because of blood getting out of his system. The haemorrhage still hadn’t stopped: he didn’t expect it to. The burning pain in his chest was quieting down because his senses were failing on him one by one.

“Obvious… To save you…”

“And why that…?” The newfound fervour in her voice was gone again, much to his chagrin.

“Because I…”

It wouldn’t get out. He was still timid to tell her. It’d make us feel worse anyway, would it not? She’d understand it was also personal between them. He didn’t want her to get any strings attached to him in his last moments. That would be a heartless thing to do.

“I wanted to… see your smile again…”

 Before she could properly hear him, his voice dimming down and eventually dying out, sirens had filled the scenery and so had red and blue lights, blinding him and hiding her. He’d never know if she ever heard him or if she had ever known of the true nature of their relationship to him. He’d never seen her smile again, or Aoi and her grow close, or even Aoi grow up and become an adult. His life had never flashed before his eyes: it was for the better, because this way he could hope to watch over them from the potential plane that was the afterlife.

Oh, how ironic of him to hope such a place existed now that he was on the verge of dying!

 His vision turned black before he could hear Ema scream for his name, repressing back a sorrow before fully letting herself sulk down into despair.

  When he opened his eyes, everything was white around him. Was that the afterlife so many religions professed the existence of. Maybe. That wouldn’t be the first time he’d be proven to be wrong, after all. Everything felt toned down: his sight was blurry, he could barely hear anything that wasn’t his own laboured breathing (or was it? Did people still breathe in the afterlife? Wasn’t that just a necessity of the body?), and his sense of touch was numbed. If afterlife started by not being able to move, then perhaps it would have been better not to access it.

It took him a few minutes to fully realize he was, against all odds, still alive and simply under sedatives. The blood loss he must have suffered was massive considering how slow he felt, as if every part of his body was made out of the heaviest metal. Moving anything seemed to be an egregious effort. Well, it was already a surprise that he was alive, he couldn’t be too capricious about how he wanted to make it out of there alive. He supposed he still had time to write his will, after all. Maybe he should do that as soon as possible since he had so nearly avoided death today. Or was it even today?

 The surrounding sounds were extremely mechanical: if he had to guess, he’d say there were a heart monitor, a machine helping with his breathing and an IV dripping. The contents? Most certainly blood, perhaps other nutrients. He was too numb to know if he had one or two pipes inserted inside his wrists. A voice soon enough came to his ears, a bit cottoned down but still a relief to hear again.

“Big brother, you’re awake…!”

Aoi’s timid voice was filled with a relief he had never heard coming from her. He had scared her too… But she was there, her hand on his, fingers enlaced in his, a heat he could progressively feel. Ah, he had missed his sister so much in so little time.

 There was another hand, this time on his forehead. After giving his dear Aoi the slightest smile (yet the only one he was able to give her at the moment), he lightly tilted his head to the left to see Ema’s eyes and face washed away in relief, dried trails on her cheeks, but with a smile he could only guess was heartfelt. The weight that had been on his chest since a time he didn’t know how to estimate had lifted as soon as he saw it through his weakened state and senses. He had missed it dearly too.

“Don’t ever do that again… You scared the shit out of us both!”

Her scold had this gentler tone to it, a tone that didn’t want to truly scold him away, as if gently reminding him not to almost die in her arms again. He’d miss them both too much to do so once more anyway.

 The last thing before Morpheus’s arms came back to pick him up was her emotional smile and tears of joy, reminding me of how much he wanted to keep seeing her, to keep hiring her until he would find the bravery to tell her that he truly loved her as more than an efficient treasure huntress. Perhaps he could, one day, make of the three of them a complete family.

But for now, needless to say, it was time to give himself a way to sleep the weakness off.

[weirdponytail]

“The Lucas Problem” pt 1 (Huntik Fanfiction, SnT drabble)

(A/N: Part one of that Lucas drabble I’ve been bashing out. Everyone is a little OoC, Lucas is a rude and grumpy jerk, and Zhalia sets him straight about toying with the Fears brothers abandonment issues. Dante is just as protective of the brothers as his girlfriend is, and Lok and Sophie take their roles as ‘big happy family don’t mess with us’ quite seriously. Feel free to critique the parts with the Casterwill team, I’m still very shaky on how to write them. :3 cheers!)

THE LUCAS PROBLEM

It was a rather crowded week at the Venice Casterwill Townhouse.

See, there had been a bit of emergency remodeling at Dante’s house. The various attempts by Blood Spirals to break his home defenses had, in a final cosmic act of petty vengeances after their defeat, managed to collapse the shields two weeks after the defeat of the Betrayer.

And it also collapsed part of the plumbing. So until further notice, Dante and Lok were crashing at Sophie’s place.

To make it even more crowded, not to mention slightly awkward for Harrison, Zhalia had appeared with the Fears boys. She had an order from Foundation HQ to move out of her apartment because of multiple threats on her and Harrison’s lives. Due to a few being anonymously sent from what appeared to be low tier Casterwills and even a few Foundation foot soldiers, not to mention the remaining Blood Spirals, the former spy thought it best to take refuge with the actual Casterwill leader.

With Sophie’s influence and protection, Zhalia would actually sleep a little better than in a hotel, knowing that any carried out threats from Casterwills would be met with something they feared worse than death: Excommunication. Harrison would be safe with the team and Zhalia watching him until they found a suitable apartment that would quickly be rendered safely invisible via ‘Does Not Exist’ Foundation blacklisting.

Then Lucas showed up, Dellix and Lane at his heels. “Family time,” he had said. Though honestly, it looked as if one of the other Casterwill elders had pinched his ear and told him to get to know his sister a little better now that they weren’t in danger of being shot at every few minutes. Seeing as Sophie hadn’t heard a word from her brother since the final conflict, it came as quite the surprise.

The team had all groaned a bit when they heard that Lucas was going to be around. Sure, he was a little more tolerable than when they first met, and everyone was quite fine with Dellix and Lane hanging out, but Lucas was still just a tick below insufferable in his high and mighty attitude. Even Sophie was nearly fed up with him by the third day of his visit, biting back some rather unladylike language she had learned from Zhalia whenever her brother sneered or commented on how LeBlanche’s way of cooking wasn’t exactly how a ‘proper Casterwill’ would have done it.

Poor Harrison and Den caught the brunt of the young man’s rudeness. Just bordering the edge of statements that the original Huntik team could justifiably call him out for, Lucas took nearly every opportunity he saw when around the boys to make snide comments about traitors and his team’s successes in hunting down the remaining Blood Spirals. Once he learned that they had grown up in an orphanage, instead of eliciting empathy as someone who had also lost both parents, Lucas seemed to view them with even more disgust than before.

Dellix and Lane, on the other hand, were near perfect houseguests. They helped with meals, joined in on any group activities the Huntik team happened to have going on, and were all around funny and enjoyable to have in the Townhouse.

‘The Lucas Problem,’ as LeBlanche had stiffly called it in a private conversation with Sophie one evening, reached a head by day four.

It was nearly lunchtime, and LeBlanche and Cherit had offered to make a refreshing summer meal for the group. Everyone else was gathered in one of the Townhouse’s split reading and media rooms. Dante and Zhalia were at one of the tables, scrolling through various activity reports and mission offers on their Holotome and Technomicon respectively. The younger two-thirds of the Huntik team was playing low volume video games on the massive TV that graced the wall above the fireplace. Dellix and Lane had taken the last remaining seats at opposite ends of the couch, cheering on whoever struck their fancy as they waited for a chance to swap in.

Lucas had decided to grace everyone with his presence half an hour ago, taking up one of the armchairs that tilted away from the television to read one of the Casterwill manuscripts he had dug up from the library shelves. Lok, ever good natured even to wet towels like Sophie’s brother, had invited Lucas to join them for a round but had been shot down more harshly than even Zhalia had managed before her betrayal. Dellix and Lane had quietly apologized, and soon it was all forgotten as the next match got underway.

Forgotten, that is, until it was time to pick a new game.

After three hours of Left 4 Dead co-op and verses, the play style was getting a little stale. Sophie opened up the cabinet filled to bursting with games for various consoles– all bought after much pestering from Lok and then Den later on– for them to peruse and was immediately mobbed by the Fears brothers.

“Smash Bros Brawl!” Den crowed, snatching the case from the shelf. “This’ll be great!”

Harrison shoulder checked his elder twin to the side, an impressive feat for such a boney boy. “No way! You know all the exploits!” He picked up the battered Game Cube case for the earlier version of the classic game. “Smash Bros Melee!”

Den’s eyes narrowed as he straightened from where Harrison had shoved him. “Brawl.”

Harrison bristled right back. “Melee!”

“Oh dear.” Sophie sighed. Lok grinned widely and patted the empty space on the couch beside him. “Here they go again.” The Casterwill heiress sat beside her boyfriend and leaned against his side. “You’d think they would have let go of this sort of thing after nearly killing each other.”

“Sophie, I gotta tell you.” The mirth was evident in Lok’s voice as the growled stand off between the twins grew to shouting. “When you actually grow up with a sibling…sometimes you don’t ever grow out of this kind of thing.”

“Hey.” Zhalia didn’t even look up from her Technomicon. It was nearly three weeks after the final battle with the Betrayer now, and she had learned to let Den and Harrison settle their differences in whatever way they saw fit. Taking sides or shutting their arguments down just led to miniature replays of the night the two had been separated, and brought up feelings of abandonment and betrayal. Letting the boys duke it out to vent their emotions over the trauma of the previous months ended up being the healthiest option she and Dante had found so far. “Keep it to an unpowered level, guys. I’m not cleaning up another busted window with you two.”

The twins grunted in acknowledgement and had the respect to place their argued game cases in the moderate safety of the cupboard…before launching at each other and ending up in a scrabbling knot of limbs and teeth and nails as they viciously wrestled on the rug in front of the fireplace.

Dellix and Lane had become used to the occasional spat between the two brothers during their visit. They sat back with Lok and Sophie on the couch, watching with amusement as the boys used every dirty trick available to them in attempts to gain the upper hand. The noise level increased exponentially, echoing down the halls and filling the room with mangled hybrid sentences of English and Dutch swearing.

All of a sudden, Lucas’s voice cut through the din.

“If you two don’t be quiet and act like civilized human beings, that woman is going to take you back to where she found you and bloody leave you there! I’m trying to concentrate!”

Lucas looked rather smugly satisfied at the abrupt silence his words had brought.

If he had taken the time to glance up from his musty old book he would have seen what a massive mistake he just made.

Den and Harrison had both frozen in place, wide eyes locked together in a look of shock and deeply ingrained fear of losing their home again. Sophie and Lok were both on their feet, and despite Lok holding Sophie back with a hand on her shoulder as she shook with tight lipped rage, the Lambert boy had blue sparks flicking off his clenched fist.

Dante’s glare was literally as powerful as fire. No one had noticed, but a tiny flame had burst to life on the table, which he had quickly smothered with his palm before turning his smoldering gaze to the elder Casterwill.

Even Dellix and Lane knew that their commander had crossed a line. The dark skinned swordsman subconsciously moved his hand to the sheath that rested against his knee, feeling the tension in the air thicken to a nearly unbearable level. Lane shifted uneasily as her fingers drifted to the amulet at her neck, ready to call Wildwood Druid at a moment’s notice if things seemed out of hand for her larger counterpart.

Zhalia had stopped at the sound of Lucas’s words, finger hovering over the final keycode rune to unlock the database entry she needed. If Dante seemed angry, then the woman across from him was at a level well beyond rage. She was at a point that surpassed any outward betrayal of the emotion, face deadpan as she slowly closed the lid of her Technomicon and stood.

Her voice, low and just barely containing the pure feral wrath that only Dante could feel rolling off her in heart crushing pulses, cut through the heavy silence like a razor bladed knife.

“Lucas. Sparing match. Outside. Now.”

Lucas waved her off, still engrossed in his book. The very idea of fighting Zhalia seemed to bore him. “I’m in the middle of a manuscript. Maybe later.”

The Casterwill elder let out a yell of surprise when an unknown assailant grabbed a fistful of his shirt on each shoulder and roughly yanked him over the back of the armchair, manuscript flipping from his hands and sliding across a nearby table. Dante wrenched the younger man around to bring him eye to eye, moving his grip to clench bunches of fabric so tight under his throat that it forced the Casterwill to lift his chin so he could keep breathing normally.

In an icy wave of realization, Lucas had the distinct feeling that he was looking a very angry, very protective, and very deadly lion in the eye.

And all that anger was focused on him.

“It’s rude to turn down a dance from a lady.” Dante growled. “But at any rate, she wasn’t asking, Lucas.”

A white steel sword suddenly appeared at Dante’s throat. In a flash Zhalia was at her partner’s side, and put herself between the bristling Dellix and seething Dante. Unafraid, she pushed the back of her hand against the flat of the blade, ready to deflect any ill-advised movement against her boyfriend’s neck.

“You had better put this away before I make you eat it, Dellix.” Zhalia’s soft voice held the fine edge of what was very much not an idle threat. “I’ve got nothing against you or Lane. I just want a chance to give your little leader a lesson in manners on the sparring field.”

“Oh, he’ll fight you alright.” The locked together foursome looked over when Sophie cut in. “Lucas, you went too far. This match isn’t a suggestion, it’s an order. From me.” Her green eyes flashed. “Dellix, Lane. Stand down. Zhalia and Lucas, you both have ten minutes to prepare. Meet in the courtyard and we’ll discuss the rules of the match. Dante’s referee.”

At the Casterwill leader’s command, Dellix stepped back and sheathed his blade, though a little reluctantly. Dante kept his gaze on Lucas for a long, tense second before shoving the young man back and letting go of his shirt.

As the Huntik team gathered itself up to head downstairs, Zhalia took a moment to slip past Lucas, getting very much in his personal space.

“I’m going to mop the floor with you, kid.”

Lucas was sure the woman had hissed those words in his ear as she passed, but hadn’t even glimpsed her lips moving. Despite the disturbing finality the statement had, he straightened his shirt and marched off to retrieve his amulets.

He was a Casterwill, after all. And no one would defeat him on his own ground.

(posting this on ff.net tomorrow morning because my eyeball is trying to explode. Friggin migraines, man...)

[sayofchains88]

Chapter five: The end of Samuel, the Crystal dawn awaits...by OrangeLetters88~

The morning is silent for Alex. The last couple days he decided to be quiet instead start a fight. He can feel all the tools given at his disposal. He knows Christian needs to come so he chooses to be quiet.

Soon are the star events between the neighborhood of humans and vampires are held at Samuel's large compound. Samuel has tied Sadie in the middle of the grounds as the main prize. Her slave cure is placed all over her body. She is blindfolded with her hands behind her back roped up between beams.

Alex was cleaning at the time when Sadie was brought back to the mansion crying, kicking and screaming Christians name. He looks over his shoulder realizing something happened to him. Worried he was trying to not show any sort of emotion.

In the dungeon he looks down after taking his blindfold off himself to touch his face with his open hand rubbing his eyes. He feels completely drained. He feels guilty from not properly to Christian now Sadie.

He recalls visions where Sadie is supposed to lead him, but he changed the series of events by simply killing Christian's spirit. He sighs deeply to himself. "I am slime...I am really bad at this it seems..."

Samuel comes by appalled seeing Alex without his blindfold. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" He shrieks.

"What the fuck I want..."

"Do you forget I have this?" Samuel smirks. Activating the tag, having him lean forward in pain, but not show signs of being affected. "You know we have Christians book and sword. You know we have a elemental solider awakened here too?"

"You already fucked over my kin. Don't be sporting anything else! You got me..." Alex shouts yanking the chain till it is pulled taut.

"This would be seventh day you get no blood. You already look weak yet you look to anger me."

"Your days are totaled if you don't watch your back!" Alex growls making cat stance.

"A chained cat should stay in place!" Samuel scolds activating the seal. Alex pulls his chain out of the wall passing out before making it to the cell doors. "Pathetic..."

Samuel stands still a moment having his nurses come over. "Tie him up with the woman. He can be a prize...I am sick of him..."

He comes around dizzily on the ground outside with Sadie chained in an uncomfortable position. He can't seem to say anything. That's when he notices his vocal cords had been casted a mute spell so he can't cry out.

                                                                                    Christian enters Samuel's domain with Steel since he doesn't have his book. His fairy combined sword follow behind him dressed in regular clothes. In front of the entrance is all the bets of human, witches, and vampires enslaved in front.

Christian can see Alex and Sadie. He feels faint seeing this sick display of life. Sadie's sisters are playing their respective instruments for passerby's. "Steel...I don't feel good..." Christian says while the scene makes his head swirl.

"Master, it's because my body is near. She beckons for your body." She responds softly. "I will be whole soon..."

Christian takes note that the doors are all blocked off. His eye shines brightly. "If I don't find a way in...then all these people are doomed..."

"Take it easy Christian. We have a lot of time to make it right." Steel explains whispering.

The gates start to flood with people making bets, the whole scene is loud. Steel makes her way to a guard. "So you must be bored, would you care to give me a small bit of your time to eat together?"

At first he doesn't give what she said any thought. "Are you talking to me?" He asks blushing. She flips her hair giving him bedroom eyes.

"I mean who else am I talking too? Is your friend interested in me perhaps?" She says walking over to him. The man touches her shoulder.

"Maybe I was being a bit harsh. I just normally have someone less attractive calling me..." He replies thinking about his girlfriend. She takes his arm walking away. The other men see him from the far corners jealous.

"Well handsome, I am about to show you a good time." Steel snickers. Christian sneaks inside with Ava-Ria.

"Oldest trick in the book...Jesus..." Christian laughs to Ava-Ria. He gets inside looking through empty rooms and corridors.

Ava-Ria and Christian split up. The place is huge. They search every single nook and cranny, when they meet up again they shrug to each other.  They see a shadow in the hallway. Christian covers her mouth to stay quiet.

"I knew you would try to play this." Samuel said opening the door holding his bound sword and book in his hands. Christian started to get a headache from looking at bound writing.

He kneels in Ava-Ria's arms. "Those are mine Sam..uel..." She disappears when he collapses. He is in a cell with Steel. She has been beat till her clothes have been torn almost off completely; they cut her hair out of humiliation.

"You are so scared of me. Just admit it!" Christian leans back as he starts to lose focus. Ava-Ria comes out of him, but she cannot psychically touch anything now, but Christian.

"Now love...please you have to conserve your energy...." Ava-Ria assures him. Samuel laughs watching him wither. When he walks away she tries to touch Steel, but fails. "The sword and book is put not far, but I cannot retrieve it my love."

Steel wakes up hearing Ava-Ria, Christians head is rolling side to side with his eyes closed. Both his hands are bound; Steel has one hand free before she realizes where she is. "Ava-Ria what's going on with Christian, why are you translucent."

"We shouldn't be by the binding spells on the paper. In a couple days I will fade and Christian will be no more." Ava-Ria replies cradling his face with her hands. "They purposely put it near so we would feel the effect, if it was far we could still be okay a little longer."

Someone sticks their hands out to them. "Heard you both need help."

"Clarence! When did you get in?" Steel shouts. He shows his book to her.

"I had forgotten that I had a book and could have just waltzed in. I was worried about you Darling." Clarence states fully showing himself with Alex hanging his shoulder. "Vepar made a false image so I could untie him...I just don't know how much longer it will last..."

"Sir we need that book and sword over there! Christian is fading fast!" Ava-Ria replies smashing the chains on Steel and Christian out of anger. Ava-Ria lays Christian on her lap. Steel takes the sword and book from Clarence.

Ava-Ria lays the swords pommel curling his hands around it. "I hope we aren't too late...I am so sorry Master..."

Steel rips the cursed scripts off the hilt and the ones on the book. Ava-Ria blushes forgetting out of desperation. Ava-Ria caresses his forehead waiting for him to wake.

A wild woman with a sword starts to swing wild at Clarence with a violent speed. Clarence dodges each swing eventually laying Alex against the hidden wall so he has room to grab his key.  

"I was watching you the whole time. I knew you were suspect, but even more I know now you are an apostle of traitorous queen!" She howls heavily swinging her blade around.

"Master swordsman of earth will be revived if we don't retrieve it!" the spirit says extending his/her appendage through the bars taking the sword from Christian and Ava-Ria.

"Thank goodness, now Samuel won't chide us at least. Quick thinking Ruby-Leo!" She congratulates him/her.

Christians breathing becomes slower. Ava-Ria starts to fade in and out more. Clarence presses the amulet in the middle of the key. The ground shakes destroying the floorboard from under beneath them. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" The woman cries, Ruby-Leo drops the sword.

"Daggers?" Clarence asks taking them. The key talks around his neck.

"Weapons are only used in her court of majesty to deflect or stop unbelievers. You will be able to challenge her now."

"Are you joking me?" Clarence replies bothered. He jumps over the crack in the floor to push his daggers into her sword. How to use it seems to be fed into his movements, she swings hard activating its fire power.

Her eyes glow with fire fractals. Clarence touches the building starts to burn from the inside; Alex awakes groggily to the smell of fire pushes himself up summoning Vepar's tail to unhinge the cell door.

With Christian on his back he takes Steel's hand. They leap over the hole in the floor. "Alex are you okay?" Steel asks. Alex only nods up and down. She is slightly confused why he isn't speaking. Alex fist bumps Clarence on his way out, he just smiles back.

Steel spots the sword behind the fire sword toting woman. She kicks the heels of her boots causing her trip so she can take the sword. She darts to catch up with Alex. "Hey! I got the sword!"

Alex not being able to speak points behind her, Ava-Ria forms behind solid as she can project herself to bump Steel to the ground to dodge Ruby-Leo's attack. She looks away smiling before disappearing.

Steel slides over to Alex who sitting behind the house walking with the sword, she places the pommel in Christian's hand. His pulse fading, Alex looks down sad.

Steel looks up Alex. "You can't speak can you?" She asks. Alex nods no. He looks at her miserably. Staring down at Christian whose life signs are fading. Clarence comes out with the woman over his shoulder.

The blade starts to react pulsating as if it has its own heart. It's light retreats back into the sword; Christian's eyes open. Alex bows down crying on his chest; Christian pushes Alex back with his hands to null the curses inflicted on him.

From his lap he pushes firmly against his neck. He doesn't need to chant the words scramble to the air. "Christian..." Alex mutters feeling the curse flow from him like chains weighing him down.

"You will always be my master. It is my turn to save you..." Christian replies getting up. Using the sword to lift him off the ground, Ava-Ria appears.

The house continues to burn. Samuel gets in front of Christian trying to make his way with his hands out stretched. "You expect you can just leave?"

"Me leave?" Christian replies snidely dragging his sword against the concrete. "I am simply staying put...but first it's payback time." He responds sluggishly lifting the heavy sword over his head thrusting it into Samuel's chest.

His heartless expression can be seen as Samuel shockingly walks backward falling over; roses and vines climb through his body slowly turning him to dust. "The crystal queen sends her regards..."

He takes the sword when it collapses into the ashes.

He slowly walks to the center where everyone is crowding. Clarence follows behind watching Christian drag the sword creating a tension with its metal hissing against the concrete. He firstly climbs up the beam to retrieve Sadie cutting her down.

Grabbing her activates the seal causing him shriek in pain, causing her to scream out. Christian decides to fight the pain by kissing her distract her and himself so he can activate the nullification.

She continues to kiss Christian when the curse is once again free from her. Standing above them is her two sisters standing above them. "So Sadie when were you going to introduce us to your boyfriend?" The young lady in purple laughs, the sister in ruby red help Christian sit up as he touches their hands withdrawing the spells.

Sadie has Christian drape his hand around her shoulder; he nudges the sword back into its hilt. He tends to more people who were inflicted by the slave curse. The woman who is deemed the sword saint of fire awakens by Steel and Clarence. "He is gone isn't he?" She asks with regret.

"Yes...but you should be using your abilities for the Crystal Queen not destruction. We all have to live together. Won't you join us?" Clarence responds.

"You need to do one more thing then...the little princess of sapphire was set to be killed soon under Samuel's men..."

"She is awakened?" Steel shouts.

"Of course, but not the entire apostle are awake, nor are sword saints of water and air. We don't know who they are. There are many more evils that will make themselves aware way before sapphire queen is born." She explains.

Alex makes his way over to everyone else. "We have a problem Alex. We need to retrieve the princess..." Clarence states.

"What a day..." He replies with a smile.

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[desarcalize]

Dusk 10: The circus

Loosing someone and move on was the hardest part in humans’ lives. Rebecca knew that, better than anyone. She was watching Sarah and Cross, being sad and not in a mood for anything. She wanted to cheer them up. They were still young, they had a whole life to live.

Watching them like that, made her even more sad. She understood them. Cross lost the love of his life and Sarah lost her “big sister”, but the weeping was enough.

At evening, Allen came to the monastery with some news, which would cheer the younglings up. They were sitting on the dinner table, eating their breakfast, when he came and sat next to Nea. At first, they were all eating in silence, until the young man decided to break it

“You know, tomorrow the circus will come to Fordwich” “That’s great news!” Mother said, looking Cross and Sarah “We aren’t going” Cross said “Why not?” Mother continued “You need to…” “Maria died five days ago! Why are you asking this kind of stupid question?” “Father Cross!” Sarah shouted “Am I wrong, Sarah? We lost Maria, how can we entertain after that?” “I- I believe…” Sarah said hesitantly “…that this is what Maria would want too”

Cross didn’t talk. He was afraid to admit that the girl had a point. Maria was full of energy, but not in the bad way. She wanted everyone around her to be happy. Even if she was gone, she would want to see them smile again. But that was hard for Cross. It was hard for him to move on like that.

Even after the “Grave of Maria”, he would have her near him, but still, he wouldn’t have Maria. Maria was gone, that was just a cold corpse, which he could control with the power of Sculls.

He inhaled and stood up. He took his plates and started to washing them, without talking. The rest, who was sitting on the table, weren’t talking either. They were just watching Cross, holding their breaths. After Cross was over, he turned and looked at them.

“You can go to the circus…” A smile came to Allen, Nea and Mana’s faces “…but don’t count me. I am not ready to move on. I need a little more time” He was ready to leave the kitchen, but he turned back to them. He looked D. Campbell twins “And take Sarah and the golem with you, if you want” “Really?” Sarah and Nea said in the same time for different reasons. Sarah didn’t expect from Cross to tell her to move on. He knew what Maria meant to her, but still. From the other side, Nea was really happy to take Timcanpy with him. He really loved this golem “Father Cross” Sarah said “Do you really mean it?” “Listen to me, Sarah. You have to move on. Don’t follow me in this dark path of sadness. Live your life, before it is too late. No one is going to live forever” He said and turn to leave “And his name is Timcanpy” Nea shouted “It isn’t just a golem” “Alright, alright” Cross said waving his right hand “Take Sarah and Timcanpy with you”

These were his last words and went to his bedroom. They were all sitting on the table without talking. Barba and Sarah took the plates and started to wash them. Mother would drink a glass of wine, but without Maria and Cross, it wasn’t the same, so she decided to leave it for these days.

  At night, Mana, Nea, Sarah and Timcanpy left the monastery and headed to the main square, where the circus was taking place. Mana looked Sarah’s bright face and smiled. Nea turned and saw a girl among the people. She had purple hair and golden eyes like his. His heart skipped a beat by looking at her and Mana noticed it.

“Stay with Sarah” Nea whispered to him “I will be back. Let’s go Tim” “What is happening?” Sarah asked “Nothing. He just saw an old friend of his” Mana said and smiled. Once Sarah looked away, his expression changed to an anxious one, looking the back of Nea as he was heading to the back of the circus.

The place there was cold and deserted. Nea was looking around him, been ready for anything that would happen. He stopped and looked the girl, which was standing across him. The girl turned to him, smiled and changed her appearance. Her milky skin turned into gray and stigmata appeared on her forehead. She ran to him and hugged him.

“Nea! I missed you so much! Don’t you ever go away from me!” “Road…” he whispered and swallowed.

He inhaled, took Road’s wrists and pulled her away from him. The girl looked at him with a sad look on her face. This look was making him feel a pain on his stomach. He never wanted to hurt her, but he never had another choice.

“Road, we talked about this…” he stopped when he heard footsteps.

He turned and saw two young men. They both had gray skin, golden eyes and stigmata on their foreheads. The one had black hair and the other had blondie. Nea clicked his tongue and turned to Road.

“You tricked me and trapped me” “No! I swear!” the girl was ready to cry “I didn’t know that they followed me” “She is right” the black-haired said and approached them “She didn’t know it. It was Sheryl’s orders to follow her, without been noticed” “But now we finally found you” the blondie said and took out his gun “Traitor”

They turned their guns to their own heads and pulled the trigger. Their shape started to change and they took one form, their real form “Jasdevi” Nea whispered and reached his hand to the ground. A light appeared next to his feet and his golden sword came to his hands.

“You can summon a sword?” Jasdevi asked and put his hand on his jaw thinking and smirking “We underestimated you, Fourteenth”

Nea grabbed his sword tier and attacked him. Road put her back on the rock, looking at the whole fight, scared. She was afraid, she didn’t want to lose Nea. She loved him, so much. Nea was trying to dodge the attacks of Jasdevi’s hair, which turned into blades and were attacking him.

He has been practicing swordsmanship many times when he was in Campbell estate, as son of a rich family. But Jasdevi was more skilled than him. Nea came closer to him and Jasdevi’s hair couldn’t be affective to so close distance fight. Nea stabbed him on his chest and he felt on the ground dead. Road ran next to Nea and looked Jasdevi’s dead body, which turned into dust.

“You… You killed them… Too” she whispered “With them, I have killed nine of you. Three to go” he turned and looked at her “You aren’t going to kill me, are you? Nea, I loved and I know that you feel the same” “I am not going to kill you” Nea said “If I kill your whole family then I believe that I will destroy the Noah family’s heart once and for all” “No, you will not” the girl whispered and lowered her head “What do you mean by that?” Road raised her face “If you want to destroy the heart, you have to kill the Earl of Millennium” “Millennium Earl is dead! Seventeen years now!” “He will be back” Road said and she activated her ability, creating her portal to the dream world “He will always be back” she whispered and entered the portal. Nea was ready to reach her, but the portal closed before he managed to approach her “Nea!” he heard Mana’s voice and turned. He saw Mana and Sarah running to his way “I told you to not come!” “We are sorry” Sarah whispered trying to catch her breath “What happened?” “It’s nothing” “Millennium Earl is dead! Seventeen years now! He will be back” they turned and saw Timcanpy, who has recording the conversation “He will always be back” “Tim?!” Nea shouted “I didn’t know that you can record!” “Who was that?” Sarah asked “Her name is Road” Nea said and spread his arm. Timcanpy landed on his hand “She is a member of the Noah family” “And let’s say that Nea had history with her” “Mana!” “What? It is the truth!” “Anyway” said and scratched the back of his head “We have to go back to the monastery”

As they were going back, they saw a blondie man approaching them. The man raised his hand and they recognized him.

“Allen!” Sarah shouted smiling “Tonight will be the Stars Parade. It happens only once in the year, so I wanted to see it with you. In the belfry. I went to the monastery and I asked father Cross. He told me that you went to the circus, so I came to find you” “Oh my God! I totally forgot the Stars Parade!” Sarah said “What is that?” “There will be millions of shouting stars in the sky!” Allen said opening his hands and he was blushing “It’s really beautiful” “We used to see it every year together and with…. Maria” Sarah said and lowered her head when she said her name “Maria wants from us to move on” Allen said caressing her shoulder. He turned to the twins “Well? Will you accompany us?” “Yes, sure!” Mana said and turned to Nea, who seemed that something was bothering him. Mana turned and hit his arm with his elbow “Yes, we will” the man whispered “Great!” Allen shouted “Let’s go!”

 They sat next to the window of the belfry, looking the sky. Nea was looking to the void, with empty thought. Timcanpy was flying around him, but he was lost in his thoughts, that he didn’t pay attention to the golem.

“Tell us what is bothering you” Sarah said “I don’t want to make you part of my problems” “Maybe we can help you” Allen said “Trust me, you cannot help me” “Try us” Allen said and looked at him with a curious look on his face. Nea inhaled “Millennium Earl was supposed to be dead seventeen years ago. Tonight, I learned that he is alive and he will continue his work” “What is his goal, anyway?” Sarah asked “The apocalypse. The end of humanity” Mana said next to her “He will turn all of us into Akumas, because this is what the “God wants”, or maybe this is what he says” “Going against him is like going against Bible” Nea said “Going with him is like going against humanity. I don’t care about the whole humanity, but I care for the people I love” he lowered his head “I want to protect them, I want to help them, I want…” he felt someone touching his shoulder and raised his head. He saw Allen smiling “Even if this means that we have to go against the Bible, just for a maniac who is not the messiah, then I will follow you to the Hell” “So do I” Sarah said and stood next to Allen “You helped me survive, you helped me understand what are this wings on my back. I will follow even if I will have to deny everything holy, even if I will have to desacralize” “You guys….” Nea whispered and tears started to run on his cheeks

He wrapped his arms around Allen’s and Sarah’s shoulders, bringing them close to him. Mana smiled and hug the three of them.

“We will help you, Nea” Mana whispered “We will stop Millennium Earl, even if we have to sacrifice ourselves” “No!” Nea shouted “If someone has to sacrifice himself, this is me. I will take my sins with me, but you will not pay for mine” the three younglings lowered their heads, hearing his words. Allen raised it and looked to the sky “Look! The Stars Parade!”

The four of them turned and looked the shouting stars. Nea turned and looked at them, smiling “We will stop Millennium Earl, together”.

Little they know that at outside of belfry’s door, Cross was standing, hearing all their conversation. He lowered his head and left.  

[evabellasworld]

Death of Mandalore

Chapter 7

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

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Summary:  After murdering Chancellor Palpatine of the Galactic Republic, Vanya Doyvesky joined leagues with both Death Watch and Darth Maul, hoping to reclaim her Mandalorian warrior heritage. But with broken promises and betrayal against Death Watch and Maul’s crime syndicate, the former Mandalorian Jedi had to choose the right path not only for her but for Clan Doyvesky as well.

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As the trio entered the palace, Vasilia saw her sisters waiting for her as Maul approached them, with his hands behind him. Vizsla took off his helmet as he faced the Sith Lord, breaking the news to him. “The transition of power will be seamless,’ he said with dignity. “We now have the support of the people, and Satine to bait Kenobi. With his demise, our deal will be complete.”

“Your oversight requires correction,” Maul stated, disapproving of Vizsla’s plan, recognising the flaws in it. “We now have a base, an army, and the means to expand to other neutral systems.”

Vizsla laughed softly to himself, before shifting his focus to him. “It wasn't an oversight, it was intentional,” he revealed his plans against him. I don't have an interest in other systems. Your vision no longer matters.”

Vasilia let out a soft gasp as the bell tolled in the palace, before she and Bo cuffed his arms behind him, making Maul glare deathly at Vizsla. “Oh, don’t fret,” Vizsla casually brushes off, as he sat on his throne that he usurped from the Duchess. “Kenobi will be dealt with but now, you'll do as I say.”

Standing across the room, Vanya, Katrina, and Maria whispered among one another, anticipating Vizsla’s betrayal against Maul. Vanya knew that it would happen at some point, she just didn’t realize it would be that soon. But she wasn’t aware of the two-thousand neutral systems that Satine was in charge of.

“You know, I was expecting a showdown between the both of them,” Maria murmured. “I didn’t think that he would spare the Sith Lord.”

“You could say that again,” Vanya agreed with her sister’s words. “I thought Vizsla was going to kill Maul and his brother after they took over Mandalore.”

“I may not be a Jedi, but I have a bad feeling about this,” Katrina expressed her uneasiness, as she watched them escort Maul out of the palace, displaying his captive like a trophy.

“The violence is over!” he declared. “The last of the parasites infecting Mandalore has been caught. The Duchess has abandoned her duty to protect Mandalore. Her political dream only encourages aggression against our planet.”

Pulling Maul’s horns, the Zabrak let out a grunt as Vizsla continued to boast in his speech. “We have learned from this beast the consequences of pacifist principles,” he pointed out. “It's now time to restore the traditions of Mandalore! No one will ever threaten us again!”

Vasilia heard the people chant his name repeatedly as they praised their new liberator for ending the violence that erupted in Mandalore, much to her dismay. If only they knew what was going on behind the curtains, she thought, watching them praise Vizsla like a bunch of sheep.

“He is the hero we need,” one man claimed. “And yet, we don’t deserve you.”

“We love you, Pre Vizsla,” another man shouted at the podium. “We will forever be grateful for fighting for us.”

Vizsla smiled at those commendations that were showered on him as Vasilia cringed, her fingers fidgeting. Bo turned to her and noticed her unusual posture, prompting her to ask. “Are you alright, soldier?”

“I’m alright, sir,” Vasilia cleared her throat, stopping herself from shaking. “I just don’t like standing in front of the crowd, that’s all.”

“Really?” she tilted her head sideways. “You know, if you’re willing to stay behind after this, Vizsla and I could get you all sorted out if that’s okay with you.”

Her eyes widened behind her helmet, and her heart was pounding. “That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be fine,” she uttered. “Thanks for your offer, though. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, I’m not suggesting you meet me and Vizsla after this,” Bo reaffirmed her words. “I’m ordering you to stay a little longer for a meeting with Vizsla and me, along with Death Watch as well.”

“But what about my sisters?” Vasilia brought up, unable to swallow her saliva down her throat. “I made a promise to them that they’ll be seeing our family again. I can’t keep them waiting in the palace any longer.”

“You’ve made a promise to Death Watch that you will fulfill your duty,” she asserted her authority against her. “So you will be seeing me and Vizsla once this is over. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she resigned as her heart sank, wondering whether she would make it back home on time.

As he finished waving at his new subjects, Vizsla, signalled to his latchkeys, including Bo and Vasilia to follow him back to the throne room, where he finally sat down. She watched Maul escorted by the guards towards his cell as the door sealed tightly, leaving her and her sisters trapped inside.

“Hey Vas,” Vanya called her as she saw her sister and Vizsla’s cronies seated. “Are we going home now?”

“Not yet,” she answered her. “Vizsla summoned the higher-ups for a small briefing and such.”

“But it’s already late. Can’t you just tell him that you could do this tomorrow or something?”

“I’m sorry, Vanya,” apologised Vasilia, reaching for her hands. “You’ll have to wait outside for now.”

“But what about Mama and Papa?” Katrina raised her fingers. “You said that we could go home after we took over Mandalore.”

“And we will, but for now you’ll-”

“Oh, no one is going anywhere,” Vizsla told them. “All of you will have to stay here for an emergency meeting, including you and your sisters.”

Maria’s jaw dropped as she removed her helmet. “But why?”

“That’s an order, soldier,” he pointed at her.

“Wait, you and Bo-Katan only said that this meeting is only for the higher-ups,” Vasilia recalled, as she stood up from her seat. “You never said that my sisters need to be involved as well.”

Bo sighed, before pointing her blaster at the Doyvesky’s sisters. “I really wish you didn’t have to ask, Vasilia.”

All four of them convulsed as Vizsla and his men did the same as well, surrounding them in circles. “I don’t understand,” Vanya’s voice shattered. “What’s going on here?”

“Shut your traps,” he barked. “You and I know that you were going to turn against us.”

“What are you talking about? Since when we were going to betray you?”

“Enough with your tricks, traitor,” Bo sneered. “We figured that you’ve been spying on us. We know that you were planning to strike us once we claimed Mandalore, and we know that the only reason you joined Death Watch was to report all of our activities back to the Jedi and the Republic remnants. Admit it, Master Jedi, you’ve been lying to everyone in this room, including your own flesh and blood.”

“Look who’s talking,” Maria rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms.

“Say that again, I dare you!” Bo roared, as she was about to push the triggers. “Come on, child. Since you’re so clever, might as well open that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Don’t you fucking talk to my sister like that,” Vasilia raised her voice, pulling out her weapon. “You have no right to say that to her.”

“Put down your weapon, traitor,” Vizsla demanded. “Or you and your family will perish.”

“You know what, I am sick and tired of being treated like shit by you and your fucking followers that act like a bunch of mindless sheep,” Vasilia expressed her dissatisfaction, shielding Vanya, Katrina, and Maria from potential gunfires. “You claim that you want to go back to our true Mandalorian roots, but only when it benefits you.”

“Vas, what are you doing?” Katrina clings her arms around Maria. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Don’t you realize what you have done to gain more power?” she continued, ignoring Katrina’s pleas. “You claimed that Satine’s government had purged your culture and the people who practiced it and yet, you yourself ordered a massacre on the entire villagers on Carlac. You claimed that you would fight for the Mandalorian people and yet, you ordered a bunch of criminals to attack your own people just because you’re a bunch of cowards who want to look like you’re on the right side of history.”

“You may have won your battles today, and you may have successfully deceived your people into thinking that you’re their saviour, but we both know that you’re only doing this just to fulfill your own greed, that’s all.”

“You have a good point, Vasilia,” Vizsla let out a sigh as he stabbed her chest with his darksaber.

Dropping her helmet on the ground, Vanya’s lips quivered as she took a few steps backward, her eyes blinking. No, this can’t be, she shook her head in denial. Vasilia can’t be dead. She has to be alive. She must be alive.

Her head felt heavy as she watched Katrina and Maria running up towards their older sister, holding her hands for comfort. This can’t be happening, she spun around the throne room. Vasilia is not dead. She’s not dead. She’s alive, and I know it. I know my sister better than anyone else in this room, and that is a fact.

“Vas, wake up, wake up,” Vanya heard Maria sobbed. “Please, we need to go home to Mama and Papa. You promised that we would go home and have pizza together with Mama and Papa. You promised that everything would be back to normal. Please, Vas, please, we need you alive.”

“Take those scum to their cell,” Vizsla ordered his men as he glared at Vanya, who didn’t resist when her arms were locked together. “They are a disgrace to our people.”

[the-roadkill-cafe]

I like your writing and answers so I'm going to do another. 50: How does Himiko react to the sexism in the Uchiha? And an anon once asked how Himiko would Touka as a stepmom, but what I want to know is how she would view her father after he goes into this relationship where the consent is grey.

adv;ands;vansdv;dlvna;jhaf;hdsv I LOVE these questions, thank you 1192ibelin!

50. Create your own/How does Himiko react to the sexism in the Uchiha?

Well, this is a doozy of a question (that is, it is an excellent question but my answer is very long, lolol). So first of all, it is my opinion that society at large during the Warring Clans Era (and probably still in contemporary Naruto) is sexist. It is not at all unique to the Uchiha. There are of course people, whether because of their personal beliefs or their personality who aren’t sexist, and people are sexist to different degrees, but it is very prevalent. 

Among the Uchiha, this most commonly takes the form of “I am your father/brother/husband and I may or may not make major life decisions for you.” Women in general in the WCE don’t tend to be active shinobi; my idea is that they’re trained, but their training usually starts later, may or may not be less intense, and is more centered on defending the clan compound. Basically, they’re a reserve force, not the active force (men). Some men take this further and say it’s not because of practically but because women can’t fight or shouldn’t (”their job is at home”). But!! All of that said, women do most of the logistical stuff and day to day running of *everything* at home. For instance, while Izuna helps Madara with planning and what not regarding missions/patrols/etc, when it comes to supplies and things not directly related to fighting, Madara’s primary aid comes from a woman in the clan (who would ordinarily be his wife but well....he doesn’t have one so there, lol). 

Each clan is slightly different, and civilians are even more different besides. Therefore, what sexism looks like *exactly* in each clan is going to differ. For Himiko specifically, her case is special because she’s the only daughter of the main family. Ordinarily, because she has no brothers, her husband would be the next head of the Uchiha clan. Depending on how long Madara and/or Izuna live, it would be the case that they choose Himiko’s husband for her, or, depending on the state of the clan and their mindset, just provide her with a list of candidates that she can choose from (which is more likely - it’s not enough to have a shinobi with strong martial abilities running a clan, they also have to be intelligent and able to handle other aspects, which Himiko, as the highest ranking woman, would be the judge of). As a final judge in a lot of matters, this gives her a *lot* of power....but the fact is that her life is very much laid out for her and it doesn’t matter if she likes it or not because she has a duty to her clan. 

In short, Himiko has a lot of the privilege of being born in the main family, but because she has no siblings, she also bears the burdens of it all alone. Compare to another girl in the clan who is born to a foot soldier, or who has several sisters - there is less social status, but also no one is putting very specific expectations on her.

Which comes to your actual question, how does Himiko react? The answer is: poorly. Himiko sees a lot of this as a child, but it doesn’t really sink in until she’s a teenager when suddenly she’s required to behave a certain way and think of the clan all the time etc etc. Himiko wants to make whatever choices she wants, not be beholden to what someone else thinks is the right choice. And there’s not really a good way she can show that she can still be responsible to her clan *and* have the freedom to do whatever she wants. Unfortunately, rejecting the hold that the clan has over her means rejecting the clan as a whole - which means she’s a traitor and needs to be killed. 

And adding on to this - certainly there’s other women who aren’t exactly thrilled with this system. It’s not like they’re all passively accepting it. Some work to change it, some don’t - just like any other social movement at any time. But Himiko’s version of feminism and what women should be allowed to do (which is everything) reads as very extreme to many of the women around her, even the ones who, if they knew the word, would call themselves feminists. It’s like...compare women’s rights movements in history. Depending on the time and the region, what women’s rights movements actually wanted all differed. Even today we see that with the difference between American feminists and, say, Japanese feminists. (and of course, this also isn’t to say that women never imagined until fifty years ago that they could be equal to men, just that, in general, what people consider extreme in social movements can be somewhat considered relative). 

Anyway, this last paragraph was probably a bit clumsily written (I’m on mobile and keep getting distracted) so if you want me to clarify or add anything on this point or anything in this first answer, let me know. 

And the next question...

How would Himiko view her father when he enters into a relationship with Touka where the consent is grey?

Quick recap/summary for people who aren’t familiar: I wrote an Izuna/Touka fic called “the devil and the deep blue sea” (which I will link once I am off mobile, but it is available on ao3 and tumblr in its smutty entirety, and the non smut is on ffnet).The premise was that as part of the Uchiha-Senju peace treaty, there was to be an arranged marriage. Eventually both Izuna and Touka volunteered to marry each other. What makes the consent gray is that they don’t like each other in any fashion (nor do they by the end of the installment) and they don’t really want to get married. Even though they weren’t tricked/forced/coerced into marrying each other (and having sex with each other), it isn’t something they would ordinarily do except that they both want peace enough that they’re willing to try. 

I later received an ask from an anon about what would happen if, in my SI fic, Himiko’s mother died and Izuna remarried Touka. I immediately thought of my fic, and answered the ask as if the premise of their marriage was the same as in “devil and the deep blue sea”; that is, Izuna and Touka married under very tense conditions for political purposes. In that ask, I focused on Himiko and Touka, but here I’ll talk about Himiko and Izuna. 

With all of that said, Himiko knows that for *both* Izuna and Touka, the consent is grey. Izuna is in fact more conservative than Madara; he’d rather not have peace with the Senju at all except that Madara wants it. So she knows it’s not a case of Izuna coercing Touka (though of course Himiko doesn’t know for certain until later that none of the Senju didn’t pressure Touka and that she actually volunteered, like Izuna). Himiko knows that Izuna volunteered to do it, and while he isn’t thrilled to be married to Touka, she’s also fairly certain he won’t mistreat Touka, if only to make sure the treaty succeeds (and also because later Touka is pregnant with his own child). Overall, her opinion of him, based solely on the fact that he entered into the relationship, wouldn’t really change. It’s not a mystery to her that Izuna would do everything he could if he thought it would benefit the Uchiha. 

On the other hand, Izuna isn’t exactly welcoming of Touka when she finally moves in, and he avoids her as much as possible. He also does his level best to keep Himiko from Touka, because he doesn’t trust Touka around her. The avoidance and distrust is something that, though Himiko understands *why*, she doesn’t approve of. To Himiko, this is not the way to show that the Uchiha are serious and that Izuna is taking it seriously. And also if Touka was planning on assassinating someone, leaving her to her own devices at all times isn’t really a smart idea. 

But Himiko tries not to be too hard on Izuna. She can understand why he’s behaving the way he is, and also that he’s stressed. Since she’s a child, her version of not being too hard on him is basically behaving and going with the flow, and not causing him any problems. Honestly what she wants is for them both to get along so that this peace thing works out, because living in a constant state of war is not really on her list of enjoyable things. 

I hope I answered this well! I really loved your questions; feel free to send me more! And as always, this goes for anyone else too; you can check out any memes I’ve reblogged or just send me in questions you’ve made up. Thank you!

[choupetit]

GOT Recap: Dragonstone

Airdate: July 16, 2017 

Season 7, Episode 1 

 Our long national nightmare is over at last! Game of Thrones is back on the air!!! That’s right folks, Winter is Here, it’s Christmas in July and as last night’s episode proved to us…we actually can have nice things. Leading up to this day I kept reading that even though this is a shorter season, things are gonna move crazy fast. I won’t say that was the case for the Season 7 premiere, but “Dragonstone” was still a great episode, and Mama D has the recap for you. So in the words of our favorite dragon queen: Shall we begin? 

 Appetite for Destruction 

 We start off with Walder Frey throwing yet another feast for his extended family. Immediately I’m thinking this could be two things: a flashback or Arya doing her favorite face-changing parlor trick. It quickly becomes clear that it’s the latter scenario. Walder gives a toast to his kin and after everybody has taken a good ol’ swig from their cups, he starts to talk about the Red Wedding and his family’s bravery in slaughtering the Starks. Sarcasm and disdain drip from his voice and suddenly the room starts to gag and choke and pretty soon every man in the room is dead. Booyakashah!! Arya strikes again! She pulls off her Frey face and leaves the witnesses with some dope parting words to pass onto anybody who asks what happened. “Tell them the North Remembers. Tell them Winter came for House Frey.” Total badass. Not a totally surprising scene since we already knew it couldn’t be the real Walder, but still thoroughly enjoyable to see Arya avenge her family. Methinks Winter will be heading to King’s Landing soon. 

 Next we see a barren, frost-covered landscape and from the distance, a snow storm is building. I was really hoping for Queen Elsa to come prancing through yelling “Let it Go!” - mainly because my toddler just discovered “Frozen” for the first time - but nah, it’s just another shot of the army of dead trotting along. They’ve picked up a few decomposing giants along the way and now I have some new nightmare material, so that’s cool. Turns out, this is all a vision Bran is having while Meera pulls him on his sled to the north side of The Wall at Castle Black. She gives a good knock at the gate and Dolerous Edd, whom Jon left in charge, answers. After a quick “How do I know you’re really who you say you are?” check, Edd lets Meera and Bran in. 

 Sidebar: I gotta wonder at this point - have they just inadvertently allowed Bran to breach the Wall’s magic barrier that keeps the Night King and his Whitewalker posse out? We all know what happened after the Night King touched Bran in a previous vision and suddenly could walk through the magic field that was protecting the Three Eyed Raven’s cave. I mean…is there a time-limit to this sort of thing? Ya know, kinda like when Pac-Man can eat ghosts for a short while. In this case, the Night King is Pac-Man. Obviously, duh. Anyhoo, just a little question that is brewing in the back of my mind. But other than that, yay for Bran! Hopefully now he can get word to Jon and Sansa that he’s alive and that Jon is half Targaryen. 

 Speaking of, the Stark siblings (that’s what I’m calling them for now, m'kay?) are gathered at Winterfell with all the Northern houses and Jon is putting together a game plan to defeat the Night King. It’s pretty simple: put on your mining gear to stock up on Dragon Glass - and lots of it. Also, he tells Thormund and his gang of Wildlings to head to the Night’s Watch stations which haven’t been properly manned to help defend the Wall from the Night King. 

 Somewhere in the discussion, House Umber and Carstark are mentioned and Sansa seizes the moment to inform Jon he’s being too soft on traitors to House Stark. Later, in private, Jon tells Sansa not to undermine him by disagreeing with him in front of all his dude pals while he’s being a leader and stuff. Ugh, sisters, amiright? Sansa tells him she thinks he’s a natural leader but doesn’t want him to make stupid mistakes like their father and older brother did - which led to their early demise. Basically, what we are saying here is sometimes you gotta be a stone-cold boss biatch to make others fear and respect you, and Sansa thinks the men in her family have been too merciful in the past. She totally has a point. 

 A messenger interrupts their disagreement and hands Jon a raven from Cersei which roughly says “Bow down to me or die, Sucka! You ain’t no King in the North!!!” Jon brushes it off like “Whatever! Winter is here and the Lannisters are cold-weather sissies. They’ll never make the trek north. Oh, and btw I’m kinda busy trying to figure out how to save us all from the real threat: Whitewalkers.” Sansa warns him not to ignore the Lannisters and reminds him that when Cersei puts somebody on her sh*tlist, they eventually end up dead. 

 Field of Schemes 

 Aaaand…cut to King’s Landing where Cersei has commissioned a jumbo sized map of Westeros to be drawn in the courtyard so she can play Risk: GOT edition. Jaime starts laying down the truth bombs: Daenerys is on her way to kill them and claim the throne, hardly anybody in the seven kingdoms still supports them, oh and P.S. they haven’t even talked about Tommen’s suicide yet. Cersei, narcissist that she is, frames Tommen’s death around how he betrayed her by killing himself and totally leaving her in the lurch. “Jeez, get over it already, Jaime, cause he’s dead and he ain’t coming back.” Damn, Cersei, that was way harsh.  And as for all their enemies, guess who’s coming to dinner? Crazy Euron Greyjoy, that’s who.  He has a ginormous armada and is looking to raise his station and power by marrying a queen. 

 We see the throne room of the Red Keep where Euron makes his case to Cersei and proposes marriage. They have so much in common, after all: they’re both as nutty as a Payday bar, they wanna rule the world, and they wanna kill anybody who’s ever crossed them, including a family member or two. Cersei declines his proposal on the grounds that he’s not trustworthy, so Euron vows to return with “a gift” to change her mind. I can only assume he plans to bring back Tyrion’s head on a platter. Or maybe queen Dany’s? Or, perhaps even a boatload of fidget spinners made of the bones of Cersei’s enemies. Either way, pretty sure it’s gonna be a dead person he woos her with. #hejustgetsme

 If you’ve been wondering how Samwell Tarly has been getting on, then you’re in luck! We see a nauseating cycle of Sam’s everyday activities which is pretty much working as a custodian and handling lots of nasty bodily fluids. Apparently nobody believes the Whitewalker threat so they aren’t letting Sam near the super secret library of special books that only maesters get to read (Spoiler alert, it’s porn. Just kidding). Undeterred, he sneaks a few tomes out to study on the sly. 

 We get a brief glimpse back at Winterfell of Petyr Baelish aka Littlefinger being his usual creepy manipulative self, asking Sansa if she feels safe or happy. She tells him to take a hike. Brienne and Thormund have an awkward sexual tension moment - which is really what we all hope/live for in every episode. Brienne asks Sansa why Baelish is still here. When Sansa says she still needs his army, Brienne muses “He wants something”. To which Sansa replies “I know exactly what he wants”. Not much going on in this scene other than the sense that Sansa is playing Littlefinger - or, perhaps she simply thinks she’s playing him. Littlefinger is such a slippery slimeball that you never really know if he can be bested. Time will tell. 

The Road Less Traveled

 Quick Arya update! She passes though a forest in the Riverlands and comes upon some singing Lannister soldiers. Really, this is just an excuse for Ed Sheeran to sing a medieval version of “Shape of your Body”, and we get confirmation that Arya is on her way to King’s Landing to kill Cersei. 

 Elsewhere in the Riverlands, the Hound is traveling with Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr and is trying to get his head around what makes Dondarrion so darned special that he keeps getting to cheat death with the help of Thoros’ Fire Priest powers. They are camping at a house where the Hound previously killed the owner and his kid - it was a while ago, but the Hound is acting extra guilt-ridden and ashamed. Thoros builds a fire and tells the Hound to look in the flames and tell him what he sees. The Hound, to his own surprise, sees a vision of the Night King and the army of dead descending upon the Wall. Looks like the God of Fire has a new convert. 

 Everyday I’m Hustlin’ 

 We’re back to Sam at his home in Old Town, poring over his illegally borrowed Citadel books and he discovers that Dragonstone is sitting atop a mountain of Dragon Glass. Eureka!!! He’s gotta let Jon know, asap. Also…we get a surprise cameo from Ser Jorah in Old Town - or rather, Jorah’s festering arm when Sam is making the rounds in the quarantine area, picking up bedpans and the likes. A hand grabs him and a voice asks if the Dragon Queen has arrived yet. 

 Which gives us a perfect segue to Queen Daenerys arriving at Dragonstone. As she steps onto Westerosi soil for the first time since her exile, her face displays all the feels - awww, there’s no place like home, even if it’s one you can barely remember. Music swells as she walks up the serpentine path to the entrance of Dragonstone and she walks through the abandoned corridors into the throne room and finally enters the War room with Tyrion. Dany rakes her fingers over the dusty table/map of Westeros and asks “Shall we begin?“ 

Tell me if I’m alone in this: I was having some serious heart palpitations in that last scene ‘cause I was expecting an assassin to suddenly pop out and savagely kill either the Queen or the Queen’s Hand - especially when they were standing by the window.  THAT’S WHAT GAME OF THRONES HAS DONE TO ME!!!! I’m always subconsciously expecting somebody to die. So, if you’ve ever wondered if GOT PTSD is a thing, let me assure you, it is. What a great start to the season, though! I’m curious to see how all the rumors about the fast pace this year are gonna shake out. There are a lot of irons in the fire so I think we’re in for some real treats and there is definitely potential for things to move along quickly. At this point it seems clear there is going to be a major battle at the Wall where Thormund and team are headed. Euron’s gonna do something crazy and, likely, shocking. Dany seems well-positioned to take back the Seven Kingdoms. Arya is gonna have a major clash with Cersei. And mankind, in general, may just stand a fighting chance to defeat the Whitewalkers, assuming Dany is happy to share the Dragon Glass wealth. I’m pretty stoked for next week. Also, I’m not-so-secretly hoping we’re gonna see Gendry sometime soon. Fingers crossed!

[thewolfbit]

A Game of Stars Chapter One: Echo Base

Jonsa • Star Wars AU

Intro post: here Read on AO3: here

(Tagging @qinaliel as requested! :D)

“You want to get me lemon cakes.”

Arya laughed so loud that Nymeria lifted her great, shaggy head and stared at the girl. “You’ll have to do better than that,” Arya said.

Sansa clenched her jaw, her blue eyes meeting Arya’s gray. “You… want… to get me… lemon cakes,” she repeated. For a moment, Arya’s expression slipped away. A tiny droplet of sweat slipped down Sansa’s forehead, giving her a chill. She shuddered, and the life came back to Arya’s eyes.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this,” Arya said, tossing her head. “Besides, there aren’t lemon cakes here. Nobody has time to make fancy food like that. And where would the lemons come from, anyway?”

Sansa ignored Arya’s words as she stared deep into her eyes. She could do this. She knew she could. According to songs and stories, this only worked on the weak-minded, but she’d been able to do it with Robb, Bran, Rickon, and even her own mother. Arya had a powerful mind, but it couldn’t be stronger than the mind of Catelyn Tully, could it?

Maybe it could. After all, as fearsome as their mother was, she wasn’t Force-sensitive. That had skipped Catelyn’s generation, making her—in the eyes of the Empire—valuable for breeding, but not much else. With fewer and fewer Force users being born, arranged marriages were even more popular than they’d been a few generations ago.

Just then, as she stared into her sister’s eyes, Sansa felt it—her connection to the Force, deep down like it had always been there, waiting, maybe asleep. She felt it rush through her, dulling her sensation to the cold, calming her nerves, even relaxing her muscles. She felt… well, warm. Impossibly warm, for Echo Base. “You want to get me lemon cakes,” she said slowly, every word humming with power.

Arya’s eyes dulled and her head bobbed. “I want to get you lemon cakes,” she repeated, jumping to her feet. Nymeria yelped and rose beside Arya, her tail low.

Sansa laughed gleefully, clapping her hands together. Next to her, Lady’s ears flattened in a kind of direwolf smile. “Arya, wait!” Sansa called just before her sister could run out of their quarters with Nymeria at her heels. “I didn’t mean it.”

Arya turned back to her, scratching at her scalp as if Sansa’s mind trick had made the contents of her head itch. Her eyes were wide as she stared at her sister. “Seven hells, Sansa, that was…” She scrunched up her face before she could slip up and compliment her sister. “So stupid. I’d rather swing a blade any day.” She pulled out her lightsaber from her belt and began to slash the hilt around without activating it.

Sansa couldn’t hide the smile on her face. Robb and Arya might have her lightsaber skills, Bran his visions of the future, and Rickon his powerful—if unreliable—telekinesis, but none of the Stark children could manipulate others’ thoughts as well as Sansa. Being able to use the Force was one of the only good things about being stranded on the frozen, Outer Rim wasteland that was Hoth. On Alderaan, the Stark children were forbidden to do anything with their gifts, or even speak of them. Their father had insisted on it, and over the years he had paid a fortune to hide their Force sensitivity from the Empire. He’d told them once that he didn’t want his children to be used as weapons. Like he had been.

Like he still was, now, in Coruscant.

As if sensing her anger, Lady nudged Sansa’s hand. Sansa petted the soft fur behind Lady’s ears.

Of course, Lady was the best thing about Hoth. When the Starks were exiled from Alderaan six months ago, Sansa was terrified of all the new creatures she’d face. Sure enough, as soon as they arrived—forced to land far from Echo Base in case they were being followed—they were attacked by a huge, furry wampa after their transport landed too close to the body of the massive creature it was feasting on. A pack of direwolves, creatures hunted to extinction in the Core Worlds, had surrounded the wampa, snarling and biting until they’d chased it away. The direwolves wouldn’t leave the Starks alone after that, even following them into Echo Base and living among them like pet dogs. They didn’t know then that the direwolves were just pups, probably orphaned that very day from their mother, the wampa’s victim. Now, the direwolves were as big as horses and twice as fast.

As Robb pointed out, House Stark’s sigil had always been the direwolf. Grey Wind, Lady, Nymeria, Summer, and Shaggydog must have known this—perhaps through a kind of Force of their own—and claimed the children as part of their pack.

“When are you going to try a mind probe?” Arya asked, turning the lightsaber hilt over in her hands.

Sansa looked down at Lady. “Never.”

When she first heard about mind probes, all she wanted was to try them. If only Father would let her use the Force. She could read the mind of Joffrey to see if he really did love her, or find out exactly what made Arya do the things she did. But when she arrived on Hoth and learned that a mind probe could be turned around on her, she was terrified to try it. She didn’t want anyone seeing what was inside her head, and maybe that meant she wasn’t supposed to go snooping in others’ heads, either. After all, she might not like what she found. People kept secrets for a reason.

Like her father.

It wasn’t until House Stark was being stripped of its lands and banished from the Core Worlds that Sansa learned Ned Stark had been part of the rebellion. Not only that—he’d been one of the leaders, the Rebel Kings, along with Robert Baratheon.

He was dead now. But Sansa remembered him well. He was to be her father-in-law, after all. Because Ned Stark hid the Stark children’s Force sensitivity, Sansa was, like her mother, only good for breeding. That was enough to merit a betrothal to Joffrey Baratheon.

Then Joffrey’s father Robert joined the rebellion by killing Elia Martell, Rhaegar Targaryen’s wife and the next Empress.

That was the beginning of Sansa’s world turning upside down. At first, she’d worried that this meant Joffrey was no longer good enough for her. His father was a traitor.

But Joff’s mother Cersei left Robert, taking their three children with her to Coruscant and pledging their loyalty to the Empire. As Lannisters do, Sansa remembered Catelyn saying to Ned, her voice bitter and quiet.

After Robert Baratheon was executed, Cersei married the widowed Rhaegar. Joffrey—Prince Joffrey—was even more powerful than ever, heir to the Kyber Throne after the Targaryens by blood: Emperor Aerys, Prince Rhaegar, Princess Rhaenys, and the young Princes Aegon and Jon.

Sansa had secretly been thrilled. Until she learned that her father was part of Robert’s rebellion. Sansa’s fear that Joffrey was not good enough for her was supplanted by the clear fact that she was no longer good enough for him. Or the Core Worlds. Her supposedly dormant Force sensitivity wasn’t enough to save her. She was torn away from everything—her father, her fiancé, her home.

“You’re crazy!” Arya said, startling Sansa from her thoughts of Joffrey and the rebellion.

She’d lost almost everything—but not Arya, the annoying little sister that she’d always wanted to escape from. No, Arya was here, and she even had to share quarters with her… but Sansa had to admit she didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would. They still bickered like they had on Alderaan, of course, but the funny thing about losing almost everything was that made tolerating Arya easier. Even when she called Sansa names.

“You’re never going to try a mind probe?” Arya asked. “If I had the nerdy mental focus that you and Bran have, I’d be mind probing everyone.”

Then thank the gods you don’t, Sansa thought. Lady let out a warm huff of air through her nose, like she was laughing.

“Where is Bran?” Sansa asked, rising from her small cot in the dim, windowless room the sisters shared. Most of the quarters here were stacked high with bunks, but the rebels had given smaller rooms to the high-born people there. She felt guilty, sometimes, but also thankful that she didn’t have to share a large, loud room with a dozen rough rebel women. Sansa stretched, feeling herself come fully back into her body and out of her head, even as something nagged the back of her mind, like she was forgetting something she was desperately supposed to remember. “I haven’t seen him, or Robb or Rickon, all day.”

There was a pounding on the door.

Sansa jumped, startled, and Arya whirled toward the door, raising the hilt of her lightsaber like she was cutting down an enemy.

“Arya, don’t be stupid,” Sansa said, but her heart was beating fiercely. She had a strange sense that this visitor had something to do with the odd, persistent feeling she couldn’t shake.

“You don’t be stupid!” Arya frowned and hit the door’s open button. It slid open as slowly as ever. Sansa laid one hand on Lady’s side, trying to be patient even though all her nerves felt on edge. When the door opened, Bran stood there with Summer, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were wild and darting, like some kind of prey caught by Joffrey’s horrible hunting parties. Sansa’s stomach turned.

“They’re coming,” Bran said.

Sansa and Arya looked at each other. Neither needed to ask what he meant. The room shuddered, growing larger and then smaller, like the last time Sansa had had too much wine. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to think. “Mother, and Robb,” she said. They would know what to do.

“Robb and Rickon aren’t in our quarters,” Bran said.

They weren’t safe. They needed to run. Again. Sansa’s eyes lit on the chest with her possessions—but Arya tugged at her sleeve. “Come on. You’re already wearing your coat.” They all were, always, because Echo Base was freezing. “All you need is your lightsaber.”

“Let me get it, then,” Sansa said, her voice pitching as she opened the chest of her belongings. Her heart squeezed as she saw them all, and she couldn’t help but slip her small keepsake pouch into her sleeve as she grabbed her lightsaber hilt. Arya’s quick eyes probably noticed, but she didn’t say a word as Sansa stood up again. “I’m ready.” She wasn’t.

Sansa followed her siblings and their direwolves into the hall, slipping the pouch into the pocket of her huge coat. The quarters that Catelyn shared with General Brienne—the powerful Force user, almost like an old Jedi knight, who had been training them—was empty. They ran down the long barracks hallway, passing the always-shut doors of the command center, until they reached the mess hall.

Rebels sat at the tables, eating and laughing in their big fur coats. A group of young boys, no older than Bran, sat sprawled at one table, playing cards. Just seeing them made Sansa feel ill. They were in danger because of the Starks.

“There they are,” Arya said, pointing across the room at the table where Catelyn, Robb, and Rickon were sharing a tray of some Outer Rim food that was surely more like rubber. As they hurried through the busy mess hall, rebels grinned and ducked out of their way, staring up at the direwolves in awe. Some of them recoiled, trying to get as far from the beasts as possible. Usually, Sansa would have taken it personally—Lady was so gentle, after all—but right now she didn’t care.

Arya got to them first. “The Empire,” she gasped. “Bran saw it.”

Catelyn’s weary smile faded away. “No,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. Catelyn looked to the sky, as if she could look straight through Echo Base to glimpse at the sky. “How could they find this place?”

Robb stood up, whistling for Grey Wind to come to his side. “We need to get out before it happens,” he said.

Cat stared at him. “Abandon the others? General Brienne? King Renly? Everyone else?”

“We can’t!” Arya snapped, and Robb shushed her.

“We promised we’d save Father. That’s why we’re here. That’s what we’ve been working for. How can we do that if we don’t survive?” He leaned forward, taking Catelyn’s gloved hands in his. “He needs us, Mother. More than any of these rebels do.”

Catelyn took a deep breath and looked at the faces of her children. “Fine,” she said, looking down at the ground. “But we’re not leaving without telling Lord Renly.”

“I’ll tell him myself. He should know of the threat.” Robb nodded, turning to Sansa. She felt herself paling. Why was he looking at her like she was some kind of leader? “Get Mother and the others to the hangar bay. Find rations and a transport just for us.”

“Just for us?” Sansa repeated. It would be safer to be in a big transport with the other rebels and a true pilot, wouldn’t it?

“A big transport is an easier target,” Robb said. “Set the coordinates for Tatooine. I’ll meet you all in Hangar 7.”

By the time they arrived in Hangar 7, it was already in chaos thanks to the warning sirens flooding Echo Base. King Renly’s voice thundered over the speakers. The base was to be evacuated. The shields were being raised to maximum power. When Renly announced that the tauntauns that rebels used were to be released outside the base, Sansa clung to Lady’s side, praying to all the gods that he wouldn’t say the same thing about direwolves.

In the crowds, Sansa could barely see straight. Following Arya’s lead, she hoisted herself onto Lady’s back, pulling her scruff as gently as possible. She’d learned to ride horses and other equine beasts on Alderaan, but only side saddle. Lady had no saddle at all, but Sansa didn’t wear skirts anymore, anyway. The four direwolves leapt through the ship deck, Nymeria and Arya leading the way, and Catelyn holding Rickon close on Shaggydog’s back. Rebel pilots were already leaping into the cockpits of their fighters, droids at the ready.

If the Starks wanted to escape before things turned ugly, they needed to go now.

Finally, Arya spotted a small, empty transport. She leapt off Nymeria and began to prepare it for launch. Robb had seemed to put Sansa in charge, but Arya was quicker at these kinds of things anyway, wasn’t she? Sansa felt her heart racing faster and faster; a ticking clock running out of time. Lady bent her legs and Sansa slid off, keeping her hand on Lady’s side. “What about the direwolves?” she asked Arya.

Arya stopped and shook her head without facing Sansa. “There isn’t room for them all in here,” she said, and when she turned around, her face was red. Sansa had seen that look a hundred times. Her sister was trying to fight back angry tears.

“Shaggydog can’t come?” Rickon gasped from behind Sansa. She turned around and saw him, holding Catelyn’s hand, his features scrunched as if he was ready to cry, too. Bran stood beside them, his face ashen.

“It’s not fair!” Arya’s voice echoed around them. “We can’t just leave them.”

“We can’t,” Bran agreed.

“We’ll find something bigger,” Sansa said, her voice more demanding.

Catelyn pressed her hand on Sansa’s shoulder, but Sansa wouldn’t look in her mother’s eyes. “They’re creatures of Hoth, Sansa,” Catelyn said. “They won’t survive the deserts of Tatooine.”

“No,” Sansa said, shaking her head. “We’ll go somewhere else, then.” Her head felt dizzy, like she was going to be sick. Her life had been torn apart. She’d lost her friends, title, betrothed—even her home and her father. But now that she had Lady, she wasn’t losing her. Ever.

Catelyn closed her eyes. “There isn’t time. What would your father say?”

Sansa wanted to say that her father would tell them to bring the wolves. But she didn’t know what he would say. Not anymore. He’d lied about the rebellion. Maybe she didn’t really know him at all.

“Father would say they were the sigil of his house, and proven friends to us.” It was Robb, suddenly behind them, sliding off of Grey Wind’s back. “The more friends and weapons we have, the more likely we are to survive. And the direwolves are both friends and weapons.”

Sansa nodded, relieved, but Catelyn didn’t look convinced as she peered into the small transport. There wasn’t room, really, but they’d fit. Somehow. They had to.

“There’s plenty of room,” Robb said, exchanging a glance with Arya.

“There isn’t time, like you said, Mother,” Arya said, punching the command screen. The transport door slid open. “Let’s go instead of arguing.”

Catelyn took a deep breath, then turned to Robb. “You spoke to King Renly?”

“I did. General Brienne, too. She said she needed to stay by her king’s side until the base was evacuated, but that they would find us on Tatooine.”

Catelyn nodded slowly.

“Mother, you first,” Robb said, ushering them into the transport. “Now, Rickon,” he said, helping his younger brother inside. Catelyn brought Rickon into her arms and he hid his crying face on her shoulder. Shaggydog sniffed around the transport as Catelyn shooed him into the small cargo hold behind the even smaller cockpit. Catelyn strapped them both into the center seat. “Bran,” Robb said, crouching down to face him. “Do you have your lightsaber?”

Bran nodded silently.

“Good.” Robb helped Bran inside and he fastened himself into his seat, calling Summer to his side. Two seats left. That meant Sansa and Arya would probably have to share, even though it should really be Arya and Bran. Sansa was always getting stuck with Arya. And it was Arya’s turn next, because she was the next-youngest after Bran. Sansa waited for her sister, impatient. She could barely wait to get in and leave Hoth, curled up with Lady on their way to somewhere safe.

At least, she hoped it was safe. She didn’t know much about Tatooine except that it was far, far away. Just like Hoth had been.

No, she thought, pressing her lips together. It would be safe. It had to be.

“Arya,” Robb said, nodding at his youngest sister. She nodded back, and then—then she was pressing the button to seal the transport. The door slid shut in an instant.

Catelyn’s face fell, realizing all too quickly what was happening. Sansa dug her fingers into Lady’s side, unable to speak.

“No,” Catelyn cried, her voice muffled behind the glass of the door and the divider. She reached to unhook herself from the seat, but Robb shook his head.

“I’ve locked it from the outside until after landing,” he said as his mother’s face twisted in horror. “You’re on auto pilot to Tatooine. Keep the boys safe, Mother.”

“No,” she repeated.

Sansa was shaking her head, but she couldn’t move. All she could do was stare at her mother’s eyes, the same Tully blue as hers.

As the transport began to hum to life, Arya placed her palm on the glass, but Sansa could see that her other hand was shaking, curled into a fist. “We’ll find you.”

And just like that, the transport began to rise. Anya’s hand slipped from the glass. Sansa could see their mother’s auburn hair for an instant longer. Sansa blinked and the transport was gone. They were gone.

Sansa leaned against Lady. Her knees were so weak that she thought she would have fallen otherwise. “Why?” she asked, her voice weak. Lady whined.

Arya spun around, her face hot and red. “We can’t just abandon the people that took us in and kept us alive. We have to fight with them!”

Robb reached out to Sansa, but she backed away, farther into Lady’s warm ribcage. “Sansa, we’re the only Force users here, besides General Brienne,” Robb said. “We need to help fight. We can buy time for the others to escape.”

“No,” she protested, shaking her head. “We’re not strong enough! We don’t… we’ve only been training for a half a year.” Arya’s lip curled. Sansa knew that meant she was completely and utterly disgusted by her, but she didn’t care. She wanted her mother and her little brothers. She wanted Tatooine, however far and hot it was, because at least it was safer than here. She wanted home and her father again. “Let’s go, Robb, Arya, we can still make it,” she pleaded, grabbing Robb’s sleeve and trying to pull him away. There were transports all around them. The lines were long, but they were the Starks—the rebels would let them move to the front. The rebels would take them to Tatooine, right? Even just to the nearest planet, anything—anything was better than this.

“Sansa.” Robb took her shoulders in his hands, holding her firm. Lady let out a small growl, and Sansa flinched, embarrassed at herself and embarrassed at Lady, who was always so good. Grey Wind flicked his tail and stepped toward Lady. Brother against sister. Everything was falling apart. “Sansa,” Robb continued. “We have to help.”

“I can’t,” Sansa protested. She was hopeless with a lightsaber; even Bran was better than her and he was only 14. She’d been practicing telekinesis on her needlework, but her stitches always came out crooked. She could influence others’ thoughts, it was true, but not more than one at a time. How could that help in battle? “I’m too weak, Robb,” she whispered.

“You’re more powerful than you know.” He leaned back and smiled up at Lady. “And she won’t let you get hurt, will she?”

“You can either fight with us or sit here like a proper lady and die,” Arya snapped, pulling herself up onto Nymeria’s back. “But I’m not waiting for you to cry over it first.”

It stung. Sansa was tired of feeling useless. On Alderaan, everyone had always marveled about how accomplished she was. But ever since she’d been forced into the life of a rebel, she found she wasn’t much good at anything useful except for patching up torn uniforms or comforting the children. Now, finding out that Robb and Arya had planned this all behind her back stung even more. They didn’t trust her to be strong enough to know about the plan.

She wasn’t strong enough. Just thinking about her mother made her feel weak. In a few seconds, she’d lost even more of her family.

But what was it that her father always said? Something about their house sigil. Something about direwolves.

As if Arya was reading her mind, she repeated it now, her voice gentler than before. “When the snow blows and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies—”

“But the pack survives,” Sansa finished, her voice more of a sigh than anything else.

On Alderaan, she was a girl training to be a lady. The future Lady Baratheon. But on Hoth, she was nothing more than a rebel.

No, that wasn’t true. She was a rebel who could use the Force.

Now it was Lady’s turn to read her mind. She lowered herself and Sansa climbed atop her back. If she was going to fight, it was better to have a head start. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice a mix of mourning and terror and anticipation, and maybe just a hint of resolve.

But it was too late for a head start. As soon as Robb leapt onto Grey Wind, Echo Base’s warning alarm changed, chiming at a new frequency. A voice, not Renly’s this time, came over the loudspeaker: Imperial forces within atmosphere. Identified as Stormtrooper elite unit Blizzard Force.

Stormtroopers. So the Empire meant to launch an attack over land. “Blizzard Force,” Robb repeated, exchanging a glance with Arya. When did they start keeping secrets from her? Before she could think too much about it, Nymeria and Grey Wind began to run through Hangar 7, and Sansa nudged Lady to follow, dread filling her belly. All she could think was that the snow was certainly blowing, and if she didn’t stay with her pack, she would not survive.

[nevinitambay-blog]

Close Reading *Stardust* (2007), or: Characterization Through Proof

 Hey, everyone! I hope you all had a good week writing and reading and thinking about what you liked or disliked about what you read (or watched)! Welcome to the second installment of my close reading series! This week’s movie is the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Stardust. Since I have seen this movie before, I’m going to use a different part of close reading and take the details I’ve noticed in previous viewings to form a thesis, a statement about the movie that I will support with my direct observations of it. So, before you read on, I highly recommend that you watch the movie Stardust, form a specific opinion about it, back up that opinion with examples from only the film (not the book it is based on and not any of Neil Gaiman’s other work), and drop that opinion in the comments. Let’s do this!

 The defining theme of the film Stardust is the question of proof, of what is real and true (or not), whether or not proof itself is real, and whether or not we should care either way. At every turn, this theme is included, from the very first line referencing a philosopher’s question about stars and humanity to the narrator’s final statements assuring the audience that Tristan and Yvaine lived happily ever after. What is particularly interesting in terms of the writing itself, though, is how this theme is uniformly included in every scene with every character in some way, and how that then adds crucial information about each character.

 Since going into detail for each character would make this article well over my 1600-2000 word goal, I will briefly go over a key interaction with proof for each character I can and try to interpret what that interaction means.

 Dunstan Thorn:

 Dunstan seeks to disprove that there is another world on the other side of the wall, but, when he finds that there is one, quickly accepts it as true since he trusts his senses. This interaction indicates that he is optimistic, because he doesn’t seek to explain away his adventure as a dream, and he is engaged in the present, since his mechanism for accruing proof is through the immediacy of the body’s senses.

 Victoria:

 Victoria requires material proof of love and material proof of value. She also calls Tristan a shop boy, equating who Tristan is with what he does for money. Ignoring all of the implications of shallowness that western cultures view negatively, this indicates that Victoria is selfish, because she reduces those around her to what stuff they can provide to her immediately and nothing more.

 Tristan:

 Tristan accepts proof on several occasions, but mostly functions without it by trusting in his own feelings, intuition, and other people telling him things. He accepted Victoria’s conditions for marriage, because he felt that he loved her. He accepted the letter and Babylon candle from his mother, because it made him happy to do so. He accepted his dream about the stars, because he enjoyed the idea of being a chosen hero. This pattern continues throughout the movie. Since he doesn’t actively seek proof for anything and trusts his intuition, he is shown to be a foolhardy idealist who mostly survives due to the charity and assistance of others. It ends well for him, but mostly not by his doing.

 Lamia:

 Lamia peeks in order to select the heart from the divination ferret when she and her sisters were trying to decide who should gather the star. While this shows that she trusts the divination method of gaining proof, it also shows that she has no problem manipulating others through playing off of their own relationship with proof in order to get what she wants. She removes Ditchwater Sal’s ability to perceive the star (proof through the senses), she lays a trap for Yvaine, she expresses frustration with her magic re-aging her (removing her ability to fool others into trusting her), and she cruelly tells Tristan and Yvaine that they are free when she has no intention of letting them go. Each instance reinforces the fact that Lamia is selfish, but in a more malicious way than Victoria, and that selfishness is usually more focused on the long game than immediate gratification.

 The Wall Guard:

 The wall guard trusts the traditions of his village and the importance of his role in those traditions, because that is the way it has always been done. This indicates that he trusts the surety of the past, but is somewhat distrusting of the future. This distrust is reinforced when Dunstan Thorn tricks him in order to cross the wall (something that he does not allow to happen again during Tristan’s attempt). However, he seems to know that there is value in obscuring certain truths when he tries to hide that Dunstan crossed the wall from Tristan. The major characterization that these brief interactions impart is that the wall guard operates on a system of personal honor, where what is real is less important than what is good.

 Yvaine:

 Since Yvaine is a star, she cannot hide when she is happy because she visibly shines. This means she has very little control over proof and is more so the victim of it, so to speak. Although she doesn’t actively lie, she does go along with Tristan’s lie that they are married, and Captain Shakespeare’s lie that Tristan was thrown off of the boat. She also condemns Victoria’s lack of proving her love while Tristan was doing so much to try to prove his. Overall, these interactions are muddy and don’t impart much characterization other than indicating that Yvaine’s inability to hide when she is happy is a weakness to be preyed upon.

 Septimus:

 Septimus meaningfully interacts with proof in two ways. The first is his pursuit of the throne of Stormhold. The second is the trust he displays towards anyone he doesn’t perceive as a threat. In his quest for the throne, he accepts the burden of proving he is worthy to be king by being the last surviving prince and restoring the royal ruby. Additionally, he gets proof that the soothsayer is a traitor before he kills him. These indicate that he believes what is proven to be what is real: if he is the last surviving prince, then he is, in fact, the most worthy person to be king. However, his trust in the word of others changing depending on whether what they say and do aids him or not (for example: he trusts Bernard telling him about the star, but not the clucking merchant), indicates that even if he believes himself to be the most worthy, he doesn’t believe worthiness is equated with mercy, goodness, etc. This reinforces the somewhat brutal rules for succession being normal for Stormhold.

 Captain Shakespeare:

 Captain Shakespeare’s main interaction with proof is having and manipulating the perception of an audience. When he interrogates Tristan, he makes sure to speak loudly enough for his crew to hear through the door. He also tosses a dummy wearing Tristan’s clothes out of a window on his ship, but gives enough verbal warning for the crew to be able to see it fall. Finally, he explains to Yvaine how his crew bought the show: “An ounce of bargaining, a pinch of trickery, a soupcon of intimidation, et viola! The perfect recipe for a towering reputation without ever having to spill one drop of blood.” This shows that Captain Shakespeare values both compassion and the rapport created through reputation. This value system indicates that Shakespeare is a balance of idealism and pragmatism, protecting idealism when the doors are closed and functioning in life by realistic means.

 Many of the other characters have moments of interacting with proof, but these are the ones that I found to be the most meaningful. These instances don’t just add another line of dialogue or another scene to draw out how much time the story takes, but add meaningful information that foreshadows events that happen to each character later on.

 So, at the end of the day, what can I take away from Gaiman’s storytelling in this movie to use in my own writing? First, the foreshadowing through the characterizations listed above is well done, and I’d like to emulate that in my own writing. Second, the subtle foreshadowing that Tristan would be the heir to the Stormhold throne and that Tristan’s attempt to prove his love to Victoria would be rejected (her disgust at polar bear’s head foreshadowed her disgust for the handful of stardust) was well done. Third, the placement of objects in the film that were meaningful later on was beautiful. The necklace not only acted as the indicator for successor, but also pulled Septimus into pursuing Yvaine. The lightning was not only gathered as a commodity, but a container of it was used by Tristan as a weapon against Lamia. All of Tristan’s sword training not only came in handy to intimidate Humphrey, but was integral to his fight with Septimus. A Babylon candle was used three different points in the plot. Each of these instances made the story feel more real and less arbitrary, because they acted organically with the plot more than once. Finally, the progression of events was well done and logically followed each other.

 That leaves the question of what aspect of storytelling in this film I wish to avoid in my own writing. While the storytelling is technically precise, I’m not sure if I could satisfactorily imitate Gaiman’s whimsy in interpreting the figurative as literal and the literal as figurative, but that is not necessarily something that I would consciously avoid in my own work. One aspect of the movie’s writing that I will avoid, though, is having a magical kingdom separate from our world only full of white people with English accents. It’s boring and doesn’t add flavor to the writing. To put another way, having no one but white English people in a story set in England is like thickening a soup with cornstarch in water instead of chicken broth; You still have soup at the end, but it could have tasted that much better.

 Luckily for all of us, I’ve made it this far with no bread or alcohol puns (mostly because I couldn’t think of any). I guess I’ll just have to settle for soup. Happy writing!

 What did you think of this week’s movie? Did you find a new technique for storytelling in it? Do you have questions for me? Is there a movie you would like me to write about? Let me know in the comments! I look forward to hearing from you! I post new articles on Wednesdays. Please remember to upvote, like, subscribe, and/or follow me on other social media if you find these articles useful and want to see more!