#so i had to horde my demons until i could find more fans of them

[jrueships]

Never saw how sexy lou dort was until you drew him like that. Now I want him pregnant. I blame you.

iT AiNT MUCH BUT IT'S AN ONEST WORK, ANON 🫡‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[nautiscarader]

2020 in animation - recap

So, 2020. 

Yeah, I have to say I’m not entirely satisfied. Would not recommend, 1 star. 

But I would be willing to bump it to 1.5, if only because of one factor: the animation. 

Because I have to say, this was the best animated end of the world so far! And if there was something that kept our spirits up, it was the cartoon industry!

Just like last year, I should preface this by saying that this is highly subjective selection. Even when one is confined to their Hobbit holes for better part of the year because of *waves hands* everything around, 

day still only has 24 hours, so I have missed a few shows. (I should also apologise for omitting a few major ones last year, like Milo Murphy’s Law S2, Ducktales, or She-Ra. This is why I started keeping a track this year). I’m sure I will catch up with those I missed this year some time in the future, but for now, let’s see what this year has gifted us with.

And right from the start, January opens the race with very interesting propositions. We were still riding on an incredibly high wave from last year, with Infinity Train season 2.

This one focused on Tulip’s mirror, and pushed the season towards a much darker and complex story, diving deep into one’s personal journey and identity. There were tears, math, deer, and cops being murdered. Brutally. 

t was followed by two newcomers: The Owl House and first season of Kipo and The Age of the Wonderbeast. Both of them would dominate first half of the year, with The Owl House’s traditional, week-to-week airings, and Kipo's seasons appearing in  June and October.

The Owl House, a strong contender in "What will be the Next Gravity Falls?" contest, invited us to a world full of magic, mystery, elongated owl demons and some dark secrets. It has also created a milestone for Disney, introducing an LGBT couple with characters of bisexual Luz Noceda and lesbian Amity Blight. Their Grom dance has risen to the top of my animates scenes, polling very closely to the unforgettable Kataango.

On the other hand, Kipo has taken us to the post-apocalyptic world filled with mutant animals, revealing that despite the end of the world, our old vices and animosities have survived in underground burrows, and we have infected the overworld of giant doggos and suit-wearing frogs with them. 

Kipo did not pull any punches regarding commentary about our society, at the same time giving us hope in the form of the main protagonist, who was able to spread friendship and understanding amongst the mutes, as well as the humans that had to survive. And in the world that we have found ourselves in, it was a pretty darn good lesson.

February would bring end to two seasons of airing cartoons, Big Hero Six season 2 and Miraculous season 3, as well as another newcomer that won the hearts of fans: Glitch Techs, with its "second" season arriving in August. And while in my opinion he show wasn't as good as the other two new titles, I am clearly in minority, as the show about Ghostbuters-like team of game console technicians gained huge popularity... though not enough to keep the show afloat. As of writing this, it is currently in limbo, which is a shame, as the second set of 10 episodes finally added some much needed ongoing story.  

in March, another show from last year ended - Steven Universe Future. As we have expected, it tackled slightly more mature themes, showing how much Steven needed that therapy we have wished him, telling an important tale of finding one's worth and one's self. its ending might not have been as explosive as those of the original show, or the movie, but it left Steven’s story as open as an open road, and deep in our hearts, we all knew it would look like this.   

March was also the time when majority of western world caught the coronavirus, and that caused quite a turmoil with the movie and animation industry. One of the first victim of changed schedule was Disney's Onward, which was released on-line on Disney+ quickly after its theatrical release.

I have mixed feelings towards “Onward”. For such interesting promise, I think it made a few questionable and down right boring turns, though the unorthodox message at the end of it was its strongest point, and it was one I haven’t seen in a while, so it was worth watching just for that.  

April was relatively quiet (aside from more end of the world stuff); brought us third season of Ducktales that spread throughout the year, while May gave us final, fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. 

To my eternal shame, I missed on this show when it premiered, and due to the lockdown, I binge-watched the previous four right in time for powerful and explosive season 5. And even though Catra and Adora finally gave us exactly what we needed, some fans felt slightly unsatisfied, calling for a movie, like the Steven Universe one to be made. And I’d be all for it, the rest of universe needs saving from the Horde! Also, cats in space - hilarious. 

May also revealed a new player on the streaming field: HBO Max, who surprised us with new Looney Tunes Cartoons, much more in the spirit of the legendary originals than the often-criticised Looney Tunes Show from 2011-2014. And in my opinion, it did; one could feel the same fluidity in animation, dedication to slapstick, and synchronisation with music than in the very first cartoons with Bugs and Daffy.

HBO Max would, however, return in June with first of series of Adventure Time original movies called "Distant Lands". The first centred around BMO, with second one - Obsidian giving us a glimpse into Bonnibel and Marceline's lives.

Distant Lands allowed people to revisit the odd, odd world of Ooo and learn about its colourful inhabitants, taking turns to seeing their past and the future, an, as usual, showing us that post-apocalyptic world can teach us valuable and meaningful lessons.   

Just in time for full lockdown in our burrows, aforementioned Kipo season 2 premiered in June, together with another cartoon movie, this time featuring We Bare Bears. While their movie wasn't anything to write songs about, it was exactly like the show, providing some wholesome content right when we needed it.

And just in case you needed more wholesome adventures, Craig of the Creek's second season ended, and its third season began, reminding us of HOW COOL LIFE WAS WHEN OUTERNET WASN’T SCARY AND WE COULD STILL WALK OUTSIDE FOR FUN AND NOT TO HUNT TOILET PAPER.

Just like last year, July was not dogs' days, but frogs'. Amphibia season 2 started raining on our heads, but unlike last year, its schedule wasn't a daily one, spreading the episodes throughout the Summer and early Autumn, with its second part arriving in February of 2021. There were more roadtrips, more mysteries and MORE MARCY.

August was equally strong: aforementioned Glitch Techs "season 2" premiered, offering better and more plot-heavy episodes than the first ten episodes. Unfortunately, the show's future is unclear; the uneven divide of plot between the seasons probably contributed to the show not being renewed. 10 new episodes apparently are written, but await in sleep mode, until Nickelodeon remembers about it.

HBO MAX picked up Infinity Train for its third season, after being derailed by Cartoon Network. And if you thought that killing a mirror cop was shocking... then this season has pushed the limit of what can be shown in modern children's cartoon to a frightening degree. The schedule was once again, weirder, with first five episodes airing on the day of the premiere, ending with a cliffhanger (literally) that only contributed to the shock factor and made us wait anxiously for its conclusion. It was bold, it was dark, it was memorable. 

And just like Glitch Techs, Infinity Train waits on a side track, unsure if it will be picked up, or will it be abandoned and left as a canvas for graffiti artists.

However, to end the Summer, a truly amazing TV movie has arrived on Disney Plus, where we came back to good, old Danville and could witness Candace against the universe. The new Phineas and Ferb movie brought back the glorious memories of this fantastic show, with the same humour, writing, abundance of catchy songs and a surprisingly deep moral.

In September we have seen the start of Big Hero 6 season 3 and a odd change of format. Instead of standalone 22-minute episodes, the show now consists of two 11-minute segments. In opinion of many, this weakened the stories, forcing them to be more comedy-oriented, and shortening the potential emotional drama. Still, it gave us funny, short stories, but they did clash with the two previous season, not to mention the movie.

However, if that wasn't up to your taste, Ducktales season 3 also started airing, and continued its first part up until December with more action- and plot-driven episodes, including the Darkwing Duck crossover, serving as a pilot of the spin-off. 

Later in December fans have learned that Season 3 will be its last, which broke the hearts of many duck fans; however, it seems that the season has been written as the last one in mind, and the news of the ending was known to the creators, which gives us hope for a kick-ass finale somewhere in 2021.

Miraculous New York, telling arguably one of the most mature storylines, opened the "Heroez" world to some new characters and new opportunities, with two more specials, taking place in Shanghai and Brazil, meant to air somewhere next year. AND I DO HOPE WE WILL SEE MORE LOCAL FOOD VENDOR SUPERHEROES LIKE HOT DOG DAN. 

October was the month of two season 3's: Carmen Sandiego and Kipo. In case of Carmen, as it is usual with Netflix, the "season" was only a half-one, with just a handful standalone episodes, and just a dash of more ongoing plot. 

For Kipo, however, season 3 was the end, and what a glorious one it was. Fans were saddened to learn of it, but Kipo was always imagined as a 3-part story, and it showed. The finale proved more than satisfying ending to the plot, elevating Kipo to one of the smartest cartoon characters we should all try to aspire to.

In November, Distant Lands: Obsidian aired, focusing on everyone’s favourite candy/vampire couple, and the long and complicated love between Bonnibel and Marceline. And as usual, it showed us that relationships are not always as straightforward as we would like them to be, but with enough music and teamwork, no enemy is big enough. 

For the next new show, I’ve waited with the most amount of excitement and anxiety. Because while I was completely fine with other reboots and re-imaginings to take creative takes, new Animaniacs, (airing on Hulu) had to be perfect and had to be the lightning that struck twice. 

And sadly... it wasn’t. It was still good, but some people criticised (incorrectly imho) the amount of political topics, while I mourned almost total cast-ration of additional characters, aside from Pinky and the Brain. This truly weakened the possibilities it could have had. It was still very good, but you can feel that some of the original charm was lost, due to these odd, odd limitations. 

December brought us a new original Apple TV movie, Wolfwalkers. A beautifully animated folk tale of friendship and social divides, and how short-sight can cause the collapse of both arguing sides, reminding me very much of the intelligence and heart of original “How to Train Your Dragon”.  

We’ve had to wait two years for the return of arguably one of the most wholesome shows out there: Hilda. Second season dived into deeper mysteries that permeate the rich and colourful troll-ridden land, we saw the return of some familiar characters, and introduced a whole new storyline, that ended with a surprising cliffhanger. Still as wholesome, but now with a tiny bit of Police incompetence. Also Twig, lots of Twig.   

Just like Onward, Pixar’s highly anticipated Soul aired on Disney+, telling a very mature story about finding one’s purpose in life, what that purpose actually means, and whether it exists at all. Beautifully animated, with fantastic soundtrack, it was a stunning tribute to creativity, and it never dumbed down its profound, open message about following your dream.   

And just if you thought that Soul was going to be 2020′s last note (pun very much intended), right before the year ended, DC Super Hero Girls concluded its first season on a rather anti-climactic two-parter. That being said, the season, running from March of last year, was packed with short, bite-sized, funny stories, taking interesting spins on existing comic book characters. For a comic book noob like me, it was perfectly fine, and I can’t wait for the second season next year. 

And so, we have reached the series finale of humanity. 

2020 ends in just under a day. What will 2021 bring us? I do not know, and if the animated shows of this year have taught me anything, is that the future is an always open book, full of worries and challenges, but also opportunities and possibilities. 

...

And in reality I was too lazy to check any news sites about upcoming projects.

[aurorawest]

Hi! I’d love for a directors commentary on the real Asgardians of the galaxy, any section you choose, it’s my favourite story! Also I was wondering if you could do a commentary on chapter 7 of you come to me wild and wired please? Thank you!

Of course, thank you for asking! I’m so glad you like The Real Asgardians! 😄 I went with this section from chapter 25. Loki, Thor, and Mira have stopped on the Market Planet (aka Promachos), a place entirely of my own invention. Promachos is a planet that’s one giant, sprawling market. The section that the three of them visit looks very much like a souk in my head—I was definitely imagining the Arab Souk in Jerusalem as I was writing it. But you know, think the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, that sort of thing. Old, ancient feeling, labyrinthine covered market where it feels like you can get everything that’s ever existed.

In this conversation, Loki and Thor are having a nice conversation that turns sour, as they so often do.

“You know,” Thor said, the heavy-handed nonchalance in his voice sending up red flags, “that’s something New Asgard doesn’t have.”

“Children?” Loki said, playing dumb and immediately regretting it. 

Not really a reference, but this line has always reminded me of the exchange in Jurassic Park between Grant and Satler: “What are those?” “Small versions of adults, honey.”

Thanos hadn’t discriminated. He’d slaughtered Asgard’s children as easily as he had the adults. 

Womp womp. Seriously though, one of my favorite things to write with Loki is how he absolutely careens from one emotional end of the spectrum to the other. He makes this joke and he immediately jumps to the worst possible interpretation of it.

At least they’d managed to evacuate most of them, though Loki would never forgive himself for allowing a single Asgardian to die that day.

I recently had to put an exact number to how many children survived The Statesman. At this point I definitely was like, ‘eh, no idea!’

“No,” Thor said. “A school.”

“Mm.” Loki was getting increasingly worried that Mira was going to turn around and ask for the necklace. “What do they do, make repairs in the fishing nets because their fingers are smaller?”

This is one of my favorite jokes, actually. Loki is such an ass. There’s so much contempt packed into this sentence.

But more beyond that, his disdain for New Asgard is really important to his arc. We really see him lash out about it in this scene.

Thor glared at him. “No. They go to school. There just isn’t one in New Asgard.”

It couldn’t be overstated how uninterested Loki was in the education policies of New Asgard. Yes, his people lived there, but he had no personal stake or interest in the place. “Where do they go, then?”

Incidentally, I chose this scene because it seems kind of like a throwaway scene, like it’s more to express Loki’s distaste for New Asgard. And it is that...but it’s also got payoff down the line.

Uncertainty flickered over Thor’s face. “They go…I…er. I’m not exactly sure.” Loki didn’t push this issue. It was easy to imagine what had happened, anyway. The children would have been running wild in the months after the Snap. Brunnhilde, ruling New Asgard in all but name, would have gone to Thor, drunk, useless, drowning in depression and grief, and said something needed to be done, and he was the king, so what should they do? And Thor most likely would have slurred at her to figure it out. [...]

“I think they go to school in Tønsberg somewhere,” Thor finally said.

Thor kills me here. He’s pushing down every single bit of his regret and guilt. And Loki doesn’t get it at all. All he can do is snipe at Thor for screwing this up, for not taking charge, for not being the king that Loki thinks he should be. I’m actually enormously proud of “I think they go to school in Tønsberg somewhere,” because it says nothing...and also everything. Or at least, I hope it does.

Arching an eyebrow again, Loki said, “Oh. I see. So you’re raising humans.”

Loki gets none of this. All he can see is how much he doesn’t want to live on Earth, how much he doesn’t like New Asgard. He can’t fathom why the Asgardians would want to be there. It never occurs to him to stop and think about the fact that the Asgardians have been part of this community for six years. That they aren’t totally isolated from Norway or Earth. In Loki’s mind, New Asgard is like...kind of temporary? He can’t accept that it might be permanent.

“No,” Thor said, making a face as though this was the most stupid thing he’d heard in his whole life. “We’re not raising humans, I mean—not that I have a problem with humans, I love humans—”

Sometimes a little too much...but not in a creepy way, in a respectful way...

“As you’ve demonstrated,” Loki muttered, rolling his eyes. Not that he should talk.

Loki is consciously thinking of alt!Strange here, but of course...gosh he spent nine months living at the Sanctum and maybe he got close to one of its occupants...

“The point is,” Thor said, dropping all pretense of subtlety, “you’ve got some experience with it, and you should come back and—”

Thor takes a massive risk here and straight up asks Loki to come back to New Asgard. Not only that, but he’s asking Loki to come back to New Asgard and...open a school? This is the sort of thing that should thrill Loki. Thor is asking him to stick around! Thor is telling Loki that he wants him in New Asgard. And Loki...

Loki’s glare was poisonous enough that Thor took a step back. “No,” he hissed. “I will not.”

Loki doesn’t take kindly to it. Instead of seeing this moment for what it is, which is Thor reaching out to him, all Loki can see is this like, blaring red warning that he’s going to end up as something he Doesn’t Want To Be. And he doesn’t even really know what it is, right? He just hates what New Asgard symbolizes. He hates that he initiated Ragnarok, which necessitated New Asgard’s existence. He hates that New Asgard is so small, because of his own inability to protect his people from Thanos. He hates what Thor became in New Asgard. It’s really not even about New Asgard, it’s all of this other stuff.

Aaaaand chapter 7 of You Come to Me Wild and Wired!

So this was written for a @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt a couple weeks ago. The prompt was ‘broken windows.’ Their prompts are very very open ended, so I generally check them first thing on Friday morning and then let the day’s prompt rattle around in my brain until an idea occurs to me. With this one, I thought I could do something with the Oculus at the Sanctum being broken. I had also, a couple days before writing this, I had seen a reference to some sort of prompt for another ship about Stephen being angry, and I thought, you know what? It’s fun to write Stephen being angry. I should try that sometime! Broken Oculus means attack on the Sanctum, and I thought, what if Loki gets hurt in the course of that?

And to think, Loki was beginning to wonder if Strange ever got angry.

The idea of these fics is for them to be I think between 100-1000 words. This one was 1360, I believe, when I finished it? So I had to trim it down quite a bit (I eventually got it under 1100 but not quite down to 1000). The ‘And’ at the beginning of this sentence would have been an easy one to cut, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just loved it too much.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

I love writing sweary Stephen. I love it so much.

Strange’s hands shake as he pulls Loki’s torn sweater from the wound. One of the wounds. The sweater is ruined. Shame. Loki’s always liked it. Even without the damage, the blood stains will never come out.

I also love writing Loki being more concerned with his wardrobe than his own physical wellbeing.

Loki feels woozy. Strange’s question strikes him as funny. “I was thinking I wouldn’t get hurt.”

This is clearly not the answer Strange is looking for.

Loki finds that funny, too. “I’ll tell you what I wasn’t thinking—I wasn’t thinking I’d ruin my favorite sweater. Do you see this color? Really brings out my eyes, don’t you think?”

See when you’re bleeding out, you can say things like this.

Strange’s jaw clenches. His eyebrows draw together and his eyes narrow. He picks up a bottle and doesn’t bother blotting whatever’s inside onto a cloth—he just sloshes it over the gash on Loki’s stomach.

When Loki yelps, Strange says, “Oh, shut up. That’s not going to kill you. Which is more than I can say for the horde of demons you faced—on your own.”

Gritting his teeth against the sting of alcohol, Loki says, “Yes, but they didn’t kill me.” The wooziness is probably due to blood loss. His sweater isn’t just stained—it’s soaked with crimson. That’s all his blood. The demons’ blood was black.

I’m not actually a big fan of hurt/comfort when Loki is the one who’s hurt. When I’m going to hurt Loki—and I do—I prefer to do it with psychological and emotional torment. Physical pain? Honestly, it’s not that fun for me to write. Here’s the thing with Loki: he doesn’t care. Physical pain doesn’t frighten or even really bother him. He’s completely blasé about it. And in order for it to be dangerous to him, it has to be so bad that he’s passed out. Where’s the fun in a passed out Loki?

In general, I far prefer to put Loki in the comfort role, because it seems like it’s such an unnatural fit for him, and that’s way more fun to write about. I like to make my characters uncomfortable, haha. The two people that Loki is closest to in my verse, Thor and Stephen, are also really not the kind of people that want to show physical weakness. And Loki isn’t nurturing (well, he can be, but it’s buried deep down inside him), so like, it’s way more fun to have Thor be hurt and have Loki needing to feed him or whatever.

And I’m straying from this fic but this is the director’s cut, haha.

Strange doesn’t respond. At all. His hands can barely hold the—what is that? Oh, a bandage. He’s trying to bandage the wound, but he drops it because of his hands’ violent tremor.

Stephen’s hands shake more when he’s emotional.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Strange says as he picks up the alcohol again. He sounds like he might kill Loki himself.

“I’d rather not.”

At these words, which Loki delivers in a perfectly affable tone, 

This line just makes me laugh. Something about the word ‘affable.’ Loki’s so cheerful about his impending death.

Strange drops the bottle. It spills all over their shoes; splashes their pants. Loki’s legs sting as the alcohol soaks through his pants, so he knows he has open wounds there, too.

Trying to show, not tell.

Strange swears, a long string of profanity that penetrates Loki’s fog. He’s never heard Strange talk like this.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Odinson? Like seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Strange rakes a hand through his hair. Blood, Loki’s blood, smears his forehead. “You’re bleeding out. You’re gonna fucking die and you can’t swallow your goddamn motherfucking pride to let someone who can hold a fucking needle and thread stitch you up—”

The beauty of these little ficlets is I don’t have to come up with the whole long slowburn backstory or figure out too much about the characters’ arcs up until this point, but, I will say, I love to write a Stephen who has entirely come to terms with his disability and for him to actually be mad at Loki for not seeking treatment from someone who can actually help.

“This won’t kill me.” Loki considers. “Probably not, anyway. Though I don’t feel well.”

Strange looks like he’s going to scream.

Loki glances around. “Can you use superglue to close a wound? I’m sure I’ve heard Lang say that.”

It cracks me up to imagine Scott describing how like, one time at Baskin Robbins he cut himself on the soft serve machine or something, and he had to close it up with superglue. And that Loki feels this is an appropriate thing to say at this moment.

Strange stares, his eyes blue, then green, then this curious, almost colorless color. Colorless color. That doesn’t even make sense.

In my other fics I usually refer to this as ‘seaglass’ but I try not to be too repetitive.

Perhaps Strange is right. Perhaps Loki is in danger.

“Why would you do something so stupid?” Strange asks quietly. Loki expected more rage. Rage he can deal with. People are always angry at him. 

Lol come on I wrote this fic, you didn’t think there wouldn’t be angst in it, did you?

It’s funny, actually. Loki has always taken pleasure in getting a rise out of people. It’s easy. People are predictable.

Strange has never been predictable.

So Loki tells the truth. No snark. No sarcasm. “The Oculus was broken,” he says. “Broken windows aren’t a good sign. I thought you might be in danger.”

Sometimes, Loki fears he has become predictable. Didn’t Thor tell him so, once? But he can tell this is the last thing Strange expected to hear.

“I wanted to help you,” Loki adds for good measure. He feels light-headed. He probably wouldn’t say these things otherwise. Maybe it’s good, maybe it’s bad. Maybe it’s time he said this to Strange, to Stephen, whom he cares very much for, even if he pretends otherwise. He likes making Stephen angry by being difficult, by being intractable, by being an arse. He likes trying to get a reaction. He feels like he’s standing outside Strange’s window, throwing stones, trying to break the glass of his impenetrable, unruffle-able coolness.

As I write these ficlets, I find that I tend to start with a literal interpretation, and along the way, I find my way to these metaphors. They usually help me tie the fic together, too, so that it’s not just a collection of sentences but actually has a itty bitty plot and arc. I’m particularly proud of this one, I’ll be honest.

But Strange is immune to Loki.

It’s a bit of an act. Alright, it’s entirely an act. Loki isn’t good at seeking attention unless it’s negative.

My cat is also like this tbh.

“Did think maybe I had it under control?” Stephen runs his shaking fingers through his hair again. There’s red in the gray at his temples.

“I thought maybe you didn’t,” Loki replies.

Stephen covers his eyes with a hand. Bloody fingerprints mark where his fingertips rested when he moves it. 

I have a thing for my boys being covered in blood.

“Let me take you to the hospital.”

There’s something in Strange’s eyes. It looks like fear.

Strange’s hands shake more when he’s emotional.

Suddenly, Loki realizes Stephen has been putting on an act, too. He’s not cool and unruffled. He’s not immune to Loki.

Suddenly, Loki thinks Stephen might care more about him than he lets on.

Loki looks at his blood-soaked sweater. Considers how dizzy he feels. Ponders the fact that the shape of Stephen Strange’s lips is very attractive; the way his eyes change color with the light hypnotic.

Maybe it’s the blood loss. But he wouldn’t like to die without knowing how Stephen’s lips feel.

Aaaand there it is. So I’m a serious slow burn person, and that makes it hard for me to write these short little things. You’ll notice actually if you read them that there’s always all this unspoken backstory, like ‘they’d been working together for years...’ etc etc. But I always try to get that build even in these short little things, and if I can make myself go, AWWWWW then I’m happy.

“Alright,” Loki says. “I’ll go to the hospital.” He stands. There’s a rush in his ears. His legs feel like sodden paper. 

Stole this line from myself. I have a nearly identical simile in one of my original novels.

They buckle.

But Stephen is there, holding him, an arm tight around Loki’s waist. His hands may tremble, but he radiates safety and steadiness.

Safety is hugely important to Loki. He couldn’t ever fall in love with someone who didn’t make him feel safe, even though he probably wouldn’t admit that out loud.

A portal blooms, Metro-General Hospital on the other side. Stephen tucks a piece of hair behind Loki’s ear. “The sweater does bring out your eyes, by the way.”

Obligatory callback to the beginning of the fic. When I had Loki note that the sweater brings out his eyes, I knew that I would have Stephen agree at the end of the fic.

“Aha, you think about my eyes,” Loki says. It’s getting hard to hold his head up. Stephen guides him through the portal. “That means you think they’re pretty.”

“I think they’re gorgeous,” Stephen says. He hesitates. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

‘Gorgeous’ is my preferred word for Stephen to use to describe Loki. Loki tends more towards ‘beautiful’ to describe Stephen.

He lowers Loki to a chair. “Now sit here while I get help.”

Loki grabs Stephen’s wrist and lets his head fall against the wall. He peers at Stephen through slitted eyes, knowing he’ll survive this, because he’s survived worse. He still says, “I would kiss you, but I want something to look forward to if I don’t die.”

Emotions pass over Stephen’s face like the play of shadows on the ground as clouds scud across the sun. 

I love the word ‘scud’ but it’s definitely one of those ‘you only get to use this once in a fic’ type of words.

He swallows hard. “Yeah, well.” He squeezes Loki’s hand. “We’ll see how you feel after you’re patched up.”

Loki smiles and lets him go. He knows how he’ll feel. After all, he’s been throwing stones at the windows of Stephen’s heart.

He just never realized Stephen was throwing them back.

METAPHOR! The wonderful thing about finding the metaphor is that it’s a really easy way to end the fic. It’s the central theme, right, so you use the last line to tie into it, and done.

Thank you so so much for asking!

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

[alphaauthor]

The Quite One- Caliban

The Chiling Adventures Of Sabrina

Character: Caliban

Prompt: you are sabrinas twin sister living in her shadow, no body really notices you until caliban coms along

Sabrina has always been the more out going one of the two of us. She was the definition of a Morningstar when I was not. She was loud and I was quite only taking when I felt the need to. I liked staying at home with my cat, celeste,  and reading. Sure I liked to go out with my friends but if it came down to it I would gladly take a night at home.

Sabrina came walking into my room and shut the door. She looked at me as I put the book I was  reading down. “ what you doin Cass ?” she said trying to start a conversation with me, but I had a feeling that’s not why she came into the room. “ just finishing up a new book, why?” I said eyeing her when she walked father into your room. We had a stair off before she finally took a breath and said “ look it’s going to sounds crazy, but we need to go hell”. I looked at her and put my book down on the night stand next to you bed sitting up a little more. “ What do you mean we need to go hell?”

Sabrina looked at me and signed “ I can’t just leave nick down there, he did nothing wrong and is being tortured for it, I need to go to save him! And I need your help doing it.” She looked at me with hopeful and pleading eyes. After a lot more convincing Sabrina had convinced me to go to hell.

Not only had she managed to convince me into going she also convinced Harvey Ros and Theo into going with us. Sabrina found a way to get to hell. Currently you where standing with Dorian gray who was telling us that without the flower the spell to bring us all back would not work.

Sabrina looked at the painting before turning around to look at all of us “ I love you guys and also, stay close” she said. Sabrina turned back around and locked at the picture 

“ Here we pass into the unholy kingdom

through we pass into the city of fear

Eye into the gate for the lost and forsaken

Abandon all hope ye who enter here”

As Sabrina was saying the spell the wind stated pick up all around me. Sabrina walked forward the painting before placing her hand upon the painting and then it was like we where all falling and the next thing I remember is washing up on shore coughing up water in the sand.

Sabrina looks up form where she was and looks at everyone “ is everyone ok?” She ask you all look at her and shake your head yes. Harvey starts to get up and look around “ wait so hell is a beach?” He says with confusion in his face. I hadn’t notice until now but he was right we where all sitting on the beach. I noticed a rock with writing in it, “ the shores of sorrow” I read out loud to the whole group while still trying to catch my breath.  we all sat up and take a look around Theo stands up and points to something “ Guys look” Our eyes go to what he was pointing at, I stand up right next to him “ what are those?” 

 Right in front of my eyes there where cage like things with arms reaching out of them, the sight itself was very unsettling 

“ The souls of the damned” I heard a voice say from behind me. I turn around to see who the voice belongs to. What i saw was not what I was expecting, it was a boy who looked to be about my age with sandy color hair wearing a white open shirt. The mystery man makes eye contact with me as I turn around  “ they drown as the tide comes in, over and over for all eternity.”. the mystery man continues with eye contact with me, I want to look away but just can’t seem to pull my eyes away from him.

“ Hi” Sabrina says as she steps in front of me making me break eye contact with the man. In doing so blocking me from his view. from what I could see The mans smirk dropped as her looked at my sister.

“Where looking for Lilith” When he doesn't answer her she keeps going “ Madam Satan, Queen of hell? She’s in pandemonium if you happen to know the way”  Sabrina said in a cheerful voice. While moving me behind  her even more so that I could not see him. The man raised his hand and pointed to a trail of blood 

“ All blood flows to pandemonium”   he said with no emotion on his face. The man looked back and Sabrina “ Follow the blood red road where it flows and there you’ll find the throne of hell” Sabrina nodded and looked down the path of blood 

“ Thanks and you are?” Sabrina said while turning back to look at him. “  Never step off the road” he said while moving his hair out of his face and taking a step to the left so that I was in his line of sight, he looked at me with his smirk returning to his face. The man looked me up and down then moved his eyes to everyone feet. 

“ It’s clear that your wearing dead mans shoes” The man looked back up and locked eye contact with me, “ Any demon wroth his salt can smell mortal flesh from a mile away” The man says while breaking eye contact to look at Sabrina> The man starts to turn around to head the other way. We all look at each other wondering what just happened. Sabrina looks at me like I would have an answer but I just shrug my shoulders because I don't even know what just happened.

“ Come on, let’ s go” Sabrina says as she starts to walk towards the trail of blood. I take on last look and the man who went back to building his sand castle. He looks back up at me and smiles. I look back up to the group and do a little run to catch back up to them. all while I can still feel his eyes watching me. 

##########################

Let’s just say that hell was not a place that I liked very much and in all honestly I wish that I said no to coming. After being in hell I don't think that I would wish even my worst enemies to hell. When Lilith found out we where in hell she sent someone to come get us. I was not the biggest fan of her but in this moment I was grateful for her. 

Lilith told us about how the people of hell did not see her as their queen. She wanted us to tell the infernal court that we where handing over the throne to her and she would help us get back home and give us nick. Sabrina and my self agreed to, as the two of us did not want to  rule over hell. I would be happy to never come back here. 

Lilith sat in the throne in front of the court. Sabrina, me, Harvey, Ros and Theo all stood off to the side of the throne in a line. Looking out on the court just made me what to go home and finish reading my book even more as the court was scary and I wanted to be as far away from them as I could possibly be. 

“ Court I bid you welcome” Lilith said while sitting on the throne, the throne room became quite as she spoke all of them turning their heads and bodies to look at her. “The city of pandemonium has an honored guest, may I present to the hordes, Sabrina and Cassandra Morningstar daughters of Lucifer Morningstar”  She said while looking over to us. Everyone turned their heads to look at us. Making me very uncomfortable. I was not used to being in the spot light that was Sabrina's thing not mine. “In his absence they are here to officially declare me queen of hell” When Lilith finished the whole room turned into whispers none of each I could hear to understand. She looked to us as she continued “  isn't that right girls?’ I shook my head yes, Sabrina on the other hand answered her with words “ Yes, that’s right” 

The court did not look to happy that we where handing over the throne “ This is treason! Hersey” One of the Three Pelage kings, Beelzebub, said. Asmodeus raised his right hand into the air pointing at Lilith “  Lilith is a concubine, not a queen!” Beelzebub looked at me and Sabrina “ We do not recognize her.” Thinking that they made their point about not wanting her to be king Sabrina was going to step forward to tell them that it was the truth. While she was doing that I was slow making my way to stand behind Lilith as the men that already my stomach twist in knots kept raising their voices.

The Man kept taking before Sabina could get another word in “ The realms are in chaos, and the earth, the pit, the heavens, the cosmos they all reject Lilith's claim to the throne.” Lilith steps forward challenging them “ and who do you propose would rule?” The three Pelage kings start to laugh as if they had been waiting for her to ask them that. By now everybody was looking at me and Sabrina and the only thing I wanted to do was to go home and forget all about everything that had happened today.

“ All hail Caliban, prince of Hell” Beelzebub said. The sound of the throne room doors opening sounded. The person who stood behind them was not who I was excepting to see. The person who walked in was the one who had told us how to get here when we first got here. Caliban walks into the room his eyes looking around the room almost as if he was looking for something, “ Molded from the clay of the pit itself.  Native son of the inferno,  born to restore and rule our dark domain!” Sabrina looks just as shocked as I did to see that the person we saw when we first came to hell turned out to be the prince of hell. “ Umm Hi?” Sabrina said while looking at Caliban then looking back to where I stood behind Lilith. Caliban followed her eyes and looked at me. Caliban looked at Sabrina “ Hello again” He then turned his body more so he could fully see me as I stood behind Lilith “ Hello again Princess”  He said while looking at me. Caliban then turned his attention back the court in front of him 

“Since the Dark Lord's desertion,  the Nine Circles of Hell have been breaking down.  I, Caliban, will restore stability  and do what Lucifer failed to do  conquer the Earth.  Remake it as our tenth circle  and enslave the tribes of mortal and witch” Sabrina took a step backwards so she was next to me and Lilith who I had take a step forward to stand by her side. “ Tenth? Isn’t nine circles enough?” she said in confusion. I shrugged my shoulders. Lilith looked at us “We’ll lose everything” It was then that I heard a faint whisper “  Come to me girls” I looked at nick when I heard those words knowing who they came from as soon as the words where said. Nick looked back at me and Sabrina. 

The next thing I know i’ m in what in assuming to be nicks mind with Sabrina. “ Lucifer” I say as he walks into the small room. “ My darling daughters” he said while looking at me and Sabrina “ What a disappointment you two are.” “ right back at you” Sabrina fires back. “ You betrayed me, For that your suffering shall be legendary, even for hell” He said with fire burning behind every word he said. “  but you have a crown to claim” Lucifer said while looking at us, finding my voice I spoke up “ We don’t want the crown, never have and we never will”. Sabrina adds in “ All I want right now is my boyfriend back.”  Lucifer looks at us angerly “ Have you no pride girls? This so-called prince Caliban is made of dirt! You have royal blood in your veins! Only you two can restore the balance in hell” Sabrina looks at me then to our ‘dad; “ We don’t care about hell” Lucifer looked at us “ But you should.  When the balance is off in Hell, so it is off in Heaven,  so it is off on Earth.  It's basic cosmology: to preserve one realm,  you must preserve them all.  And already the chaos your failed abdication has provoked  threatens your precious Greendale.” I look at Sabrina in worry, Sabrina however just looked at him and calmly asked, 

“ What are you talking about? What threats” 

“ The old ones are coming, should be rolling in any minute now.”

“ you’ re lying, again”  do lie, and often, but not about this.  Nor am I lying when I tell you  that only a true queen has the authority,  the power, to liberate Nicholas Scratch from this realm.  And the kings will never declare Lilith queen,  no matter what you say or do.  So if you want him back....”  After lucifer said this Sabrina disappeared and I was stuck in a room alone with lucifer. I turn around in a circle trying to find a way out, only to realize there is no way out. “ Hello Cassandra, I thought me and you should have a little chat.” I look at him like he is crazy “ why would I want to talk to you?”  Lucifer looks at me then starts to walk around me “ you know you and Sabrina are completely different people” he says. I look at him when he makes his way back into my line of vision. “ it's not a bad thing in fact I see it as a good thing, Sabrina is going to step up and take the throne and then Caliban will challenge her of course.” Lucifer says “ Don’t tell her but out of you two your my favorite, and although I don’ t want either of you close to boys, I see the way Caliban looks at you.” I look at him not understanding where he is going with this at all “ What are you getting at?” “Sabrina will try to take the throne for herself but I want you to have the throne with Caliban by your side.” The only thing he was doing was messing with my mind “  Why would you want that? You just said you didn't like him” Lucifer looks at him and smiles “  Yes but he has some knowledge of ruling hell and I want it in one piece when I get back, plus I see the way he looks at you”  Lucifer says “ he would do anything for you and doesn't know it yet.” Lucifer looked at me his smile dropping “ Listen hear and listen well, you are much more powerful then Sabrina is. The only problem is that part of you is still a mortal it drains your body physically. So try not to use to much power. Sabrina doesn't have to worry about it because she can’ t access the amount of power you can, am I making myself clear?” 

I nodded not dully believing what he was saying. I blinked and I was back out in the throne room, before I could say anything to the three kings Sabrina looked at me and Lilith  “ no we won’t”. Sabrina took a step forward looking at the three kings “ I am Sabrina Morningstar,  and that throne is mine by blood and by birth!” Lilith looked at me then Sabina leaning into Sabrina “  Yours to give to me, you mean”  Sabrina looked at her “ No, mine to claim” The three kings started to talk but I couldn't pay attention the only thing on my mind was that lucifer was right Sabrina did step forward and took the throne while leaving me in the dust. I was so lost in thought over what to do I almost didn't hear Caliban step forward and start to talk.”  You may be able to take the throne now but what about your sister?” he said raising his arm towards me, the look on Sabrina's face was almost like she forgot that I was there. In all truth I think everyone forgot that I was there. Sabrina looked at me before saying “ only one person can rule, and I think I should be the one ruling it” she says without making eye contact with me “ Im sorry what?” I say while looking at her, Sabrina looks at me “ as much as I love you I don't think you could rule hell” That one hurt my own sister doesn't think that I could rule hell, but she thinks that she can. 

“ If she wants the crown,  she's going to have to prove herself worthy. I challenge you Sabrina” Caliban says. Sabrina and Lilith have a chat in private “ She can be challenged its true but a certain number of signatures are required”  

“ as my first act of queen this court is dismissed!” Sabrina yells. They all start to leave the room Caliban walks up to see “  I'll see you soon princess” when everyone is gone Sabrina try's to talk to me but I just turn the other way 

##########################

Even since we got back from hell I haven’t seen or talked to Sabrina. When we got back from hell I went up to my room and locked the door have been there science. I was painting a picture when all of the sudden I'm in hell with Lilith standing above me. “ I look up at her with a look that could kill “ why am I here?”i said Lilith looked at me “ the courts want you here for this meeting. why? I don’t know.” 

When I walked into the throne room I see my sister sitting on the throne and that only fuels my anger. I’ m about to go up to her to give her a piece of my mind when the throne room doors again. Caliban walks in. “I, Caliban, demon prince of Hell,  challenge the Morningstar to her seat on the throne.” The whole room goes crazy with cheers “Look upon this scroll.  I have gathered 666 signatures of the highest born of Hell  to endorse my challenge.  By infernal law of the court of Hell, it must be accepted.” Sabrina looks at Lilith asking if its true to which she says yes. Caliban continues to talk “Then I challenge you on a quest for  the Unholy Regalia.  The regalia are the three most powerful occult objects in history.  Relics that have been lost to the ages, mind you.  Legend has it, he who finds and collects the relics  may take his seat on the throne, whether they be Morningstar or not.  Do you accept my challenge, Sabrina?” Sabrina looks at him with anger “ Yes”. Caliban smiles “ One more thing, your sister seeing as you do not what her on your team, if I win she becomes my queen, therefore she plays on my team” Caliban looks at me and smiles. Sabrina stands up “ No its not going to happen!’ Caliban looked back at her “ I don’t really think that's your choice to make” he says looking at me “ it’s her choice” Caliban holds at his hand waiting for me to take it. I look at his hand then to Sabrina who is already looking at me “ you can’t be thinking about this!’ I think at Caliban's hand and start to walk toward him. Taking his hand he smiles down at me due to the height difference. Sabrina starts to yell but the only thing I can focus on is the warmth that overcomes my body when he starts to teleport us to who knows where.  

[harlot-of-oblivion]

A Rose of Unconscious Beauty (Part 6)

When Vergil arrives at your garden, he did not foresee having to deal with a horde of demons or his nosy little brother. Nor was he expecting his lovely rose to be caught in the middle.

It’s finally finished! Hope ya’ll enjoy. ❤❤❤

Here’s the link to the list of all the flowers featured in this part. 🌹🥰🌹

Chapter 2: Dealing with Dante

Vergil has always taken pride in being calm and collected at all times, especially when he wields the Yamato. Extreme emotions can cloud one’s mind and cause amateur mistakes on and off the battlefield. He has mastered the ability of supreme focus. He thought nothing could shake him out this state once he has put the flame into the void…that is until he witnesses a Fury demon hurling itself straight at you.

The flame within the void bursts into a roaring fire as he quickly jumps into action. Dealing with demon is an easy task, but he is still fuming as he inspects you. His eyes roam all over your body, frantically checking for any sign of injury. The very thought you getting hurt turns the flame bright blue as his body starts to hum in rage, so close to entering Devil Trigger. If he had not been here at this exact moment to protect you…he cannot help but to think about that day long ago…

I almost lost you, my lovely rose. Just like-

“Vergil!”

The sound of your sweet voice breaks him out of his tempestuous thoughts and pulls him away from the brink of Devil Trigger. “Y/N.” His feet move of their own accord towards you as he examines you again, noticing your glistening eyes and gracious smile. “What are you doing out here?” he demands as he also takes note of the bloody gardening tool in your hands.

Your hands lower from their defensive stance as he gets closer. “I was gardening and helping your brother when- Ah!” Your explanation is cut short by Vergil swiftly picking you up into his arms as he heads for the backdoor of your home.

“Get inside,” he orders as he puts you down. “I’ll take care of the demons…and my foolish brother.”

You do not argue with him as you open the door and step inside. Before he can turn to go, your head peeks out of the door. “Be careful, okay?” you implore, voice full of concern and eyes gleaming with worry.

Vergil nods and you give him a small comforting smile before shutting the door. He turns away and reigns in his rage, putting the flame back into the void as he stalks over to the neatest demon beyond your garden. Dante’s rowdy taunts echo throughout the street as he slices his way towards his brother. “What a nuisance,” he mutters as he cuts down demon after demon, taking out his anger at this entire situation on them. He knew Dante was up to something when he came back to an empty shop after his weekly sparing session with Nero. His son actually gave him a bit of a warning before he left…hinting that he should introduce you to Dante.

But of all the ridiculous scenarios he ran through his head…he did not foresee you out in the open, left alone, and in grave danger while demons run amok on the streets. And his little brother, being his usual daft self, not taking anything seriously. Vergil growls harshly as the image of you bravely holding up your gardening tool in defense as the Fury lunges at you pops into his head. The demons may be getting the brunt of his ire, but when he gets to Dante...his body begins to hum lowly again as he finally catches up with his brother and joins the fray, dispatching the remaining demons with ease.

When the last demon falls, Dante laughs as he holsters his guns and turns to face his very irate brother. “Hey! Fancy meeting you h-”

Vergil teleports in front of Dante and skewers him with the Yamato. “That is for being nosy scum.” Dante grunts in pain as he withdraws his blade, making sure it to twist it a bit as he dislodges it from his chest. “And that is for not ensuring Y/N’s safety.”

Dante kneels down in agony as he clutches the fresh stab wound on his chest. “What’re you talking about?” he hisses. “She was on her way-”

“A Fury almost cut her down!”

“Oh shit…is she okay?”

“Yes,” Vergil replies, barely containing his anger as he summons his swords. “No thanks to you.” Dante rolls out of the way of the first sword and continues to dodge the barrage of blue blades coming his way. He tries to talk his older brother down from his wrathful onslaught, but Vergil is having none of it.

“What in carnation?!”

Both of the brother’s heads snap over at your punny exclamation as you jog towards them. When you come to a halt a few feet away, Vergil ceases his attack and takes the time to double check for any injuries upon your person. He notes your very simple gardening attire: green overalls, gardening hat, and well-worn black boots. The bloody gardening tool that you used to defend yourself is still in your hands. Your face is aglow with a light sheen of perspiration and your brilliant eyes are wide as they look between him and his brother in amazement. Seeing you standing there safe and sound quells his white-hot anger down to a low simmer.

Dante brushes off his clothes before breaking the silence. “Weed it and reap!” he bellows, spreading his arms wide as he gestures all around the street.

You blink and tilt your head thoughtfully. “Hmm…perhaps you really are a hoe!”

Vergil’s brow furrows in confusion at your strange observation as Dante’s boisterous laugh rings out through the air. Your mouth curves into a small grin as your eyes track over from his little brother to him. Those alluring lips that constantly haunt his thoughts widen into a wondrous smile. The last ember of his smoldering anger is snuffed out as you approach him. “Are you okay?” you inquire softly, making a familiar warmth bloom within his chest. “I still have the first aid kit if either of you need it,” you add while pointing back towards your garden.

Dante speaks up before Vergil has a chance to respond. “I don’t need it, but Verg has this nasty cut on his back.”

Vergil scowls at his brother’s interruption. “I do not have-”

A sharp sting slashes across his back, causing him to growl in pain as he stumbles forward and bumps into you. His annoying little brother must have taken the opportunity to set up an ambush while he was distracted by your approach. You drop the gardening hoe as you try your best to stop his fall. Vergil glares at Dante’s retreating back he continues to talk. “I’m gonna put the petal to the meadow and ride ‘round the block,” he informs as he summons Cavaliere. “Gotta make sure there aren’t any more demons that need a good hoeing. And if there are…” He reaches into his jacket and dramatically puts on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “I’ll dill with it.”

Vergil snarls in response as he summons his swords again. Dante quickly hops onto his fiendish motorcycle and speeds away, successfully escaping the cascade of blue blades. You peek around his body and softly squeal in astonishment. “Does the power of Sparda also include fast healing?” you wonder aloud as you pat his back, trying to feel out the slash wound that should be there.

“Yes,” he huffs as he straightens himself, doing his best to divert his attention away from the warmth of your hand pressing firmly against his back.

“Huh…” You glance up at him and clear your throat as you take a step back away from him. Your cheeks turn pink as you crouch down and pick up your garden hoe, quietly repeating your offer of first aid. Vergil’s scowl softens as you stand back up, touched by your concern for him. He declines first aid as he extends his hand to help you up off the ground. You smirk coyly as you take his hand. He gently wraps your arm around his before escorting you back to your garden. When both of you get to your gate, he opens it and gestures for you to go through first.

Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you enter your garden. “Do you and Dante always stab each other?”

“It’s how we bond,” Vergil lightly jests with a soft chuckle as he steps through the gate and closes it behind him. “What feeble excuse did my wretch of a brother use to intrude on you?” he queries, his own curiosity getting the best of him as you take off your gardening hat.

“He wanted burgundy roses for his desk,” you answer as you begin fanning yourself with the hat. Vergil stares at you inquisitively, subtly admiring your disheveled hair as it blows away from your lovely face. “He also Dad-teragated me,” you tack on as you start to wander off. His brow scrunches up at that statement, perplexed by the phrase “dad-teragate” as he follows close behind you.

You pause in your tracks and scan the ground, eyes lighting up when you find whatever it is you are searching for. “Then the demons attacked and one tried to burn down my apple tree!” you exclaim excitedly as you trot a short distance away and pick up a garden hose. Vergil quirks an eyebrow as you spritz the air with misty water. “I gave it good smack though!” you beam proudly as you hold up your bloody gardening hoe and clean it off with the hose. A grumbling growl escapes his lips as he pins you down with an intense stare. “But then Dante shot it down!” you quickly add as you finish cleaning off your gardening tool.

You wouldn’t be my lovely rose if you didn’t drive me mad, Vergil muses to himself as he sighs and pinches his brow in slight irritation. He hears you rustling around as he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. For once in his life…he is grateful for his brother’s interference into his private affairs. That still does not excuse him from running off and leaving you alone though.

“Flower for your thoughts?”

The sound of your endearing catchphrase shakes him out of his broody ruminations. You have put away the gardening hoe and your hands are wringing the gardening hat as you gaze up at him. The buzzing irritation rumbling around his head dies down as he stares deeply into your worried eyes. His mind grasps for the right words to explain…that seeing you any kind of danger makes him feel…

Vergil takes a deep breath. “As much as I admire your courage to take up arms, you should’ve sought safety as soon as possible,” he rebukes softly as he steps forward and places a hand on your shoulder. “You could’ve been seriously hurt…or worse.” His vexation starts to grow as he recalls other times you could have been in danger. “And must you be friendly with every stranger that happens upon your garden? Or go harvest berries in the middle of night? Demons could show up anytime and-oof!”

He is taken aback by your body crashing into him. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. Vergil stands stock-still as the heat of your embrace washes over him, melting away all his aggravation. He feels light-headed as your intoxicating scent floods his senses, breathing you in with every breath he takes. The familiar warmth in his chest grows and rises up to his cheeks. He sighs indignantly at himself, annoyed that you once again managed to make him blush like a besotted buffoon.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” you murmur against his chest. “I’m not used to having somebody around…looking after me.” You look up at him, adoration shining through your eyes as you gift him with your vibrant smile. “Thank you, Vergil.”

Your soft words of gratitude ease the tension throughout his body within your tender embrace. “You don’t need to use a promiscuous gardening tool to defend yourself,” he affirms softly while placing a tentative hand on your back, mentally noting the subtle hitch of your breath at the contact. “Not while I’m around.”

“You sure?” you giggle. “My hoe is pretty formidable!”

Vergil laughs as a soft smile tugs at his lips. His thumb begins to gently brush small circles your back, trying to prolong your presence against his body. You take a shuttering breath as your cheeks flush crimson and he grins in victory as your arms squeeze him tighter. Vergil feels a strong desire take ahold of him. It compels him to keep you as close as possible while he gazes down upon you. He cannot help but wonder if your lips feel as velvety as they appear…

The sudden sound of distant upbeat music drifts through the air. Both of you flinch and look around in confusion. You consider for a moment before suggesting that the tune is probably blaring from a nearby car parked on the street. Vergil’s eyes narrow in suspension as they survey the surrounding area. Your body shifts away from him as you announce that you need to get something. He reluctantly loosens his grip around your waist and watches you disappear into your vast garden.

Vergil carries on investigating the intrusive melody’s origins, walking further into the garden until his keen eye finds the source of the romantic music. Dante is standing some distance away, failing miserably at hiding behind some tall bushes as he holds up a boom box stereo. Vergil glowers at his brother, silently warning him to cease whatever foolishness he is up to, but Dante just gives him a cheeky wink and an encouraging smile.

The rustle of dainty footfalls softly approaching Vergil from behind stops him from forcefully ending his idiotic brother’s antics. He turns around and sees you standing by the garden fountain. As he walks over to meet you, he notices your hands are behind your back, undoubtedly hiding some flowers. You glance up at him nervously when he comes to a halt in front of you. “I just want to, umm…” you mumble quietly, pausing to clear your throat before going on. “When that demon came at me, all I could think about was you and…” You bite your lower lip as you swing your hands around to reveal a bundle of small yellow flowers.

“I think you’re dandy, and I’m not lion!” He quirks an eyebrow as he tilts his head at your curious pun. “Ah, sorry!” you say, shaking your head as you bring the flowers up to your chest and stare straight into his eyes. “What I mean to say is I care for you…deeply.”

Vergil’s heartbeat quickens at your open and honest admission. He recognizes the flowers in your hands to be dandelions. If memory serves him correctly, they are presented when someone believes that the recipient will bring happiness to their life. It also represents a promise of total faithfulness. These particular flowers, along with your tender words, rocks his very soul as he puts all the pieces together and interprets what you are trying to say…

You’re the only one for me.

His stunned silence must make you anxious again as you hurriedly hide your face behind the dandelions. “I uh…probably shouldn’t have told you that while wearing dirty gardening overalls.” You peek between the flowers as you brush your unkempt hair behind your ear. “Not exactly the epitome of charm and grace right now, huh?”

While you are busy turning pink behind the small yellow blooms, Vergil summons his swords and swiftly cuts Dante’s meddlesome music short. He distracts you from his brother’s quiet yelp of pain by stepping up closer to you. “I have something for you as well,” he admits while reaching into his coat. “Hmm…it seems only one survived the battle,” he notes as he reveals a single cabbage rose. A pile of pink and white petals from the other ruined roses rain down from his coat. You smirk and bend down to grab a handful of the petals off of the ground before throwing them into the air with a playful giggle. He hums in amusement at your impromptu flower shower before presenting you the lone pink and white cabbage rose.

“You have never looked more ravishing than you do at this moment,” he marvels as his eyes blatantly admire every inch of your body. “Dirty garden garments and all,” he adds with a small grin, hoping that you hear the sincerity of his words, spoken and unspoken.

You set my heart aflame.

Your radiant eyes gaze up at him as your hands lower the dandelions away from your face, no longer hiding the delightful crimson blush currently spreading across your cheeks. The strong desire to pull you close comes back in full force as you reach for the cabbage rose. “Will you allow me…to put this lovely rose in your hair?” he hesitantly requests as your fingers wrap around his hand.

Your eyes widen in surprise as your blush spreads all the way up to your ears. “Yes,” you utter quietly, looking absolutely adorable as you gently nod your head. Vergil smiles softly as he steps up closer to you and rests the Yamato against the garden fountain. You lower your hands and turn your head slightly, presenting him the side of your hair you wish the flower to go.

With steady hands he brings the rose up and carefully places it just above your ear. Your scent ensnares his senses once more as his fingers sift between your lustrous hair, making him feel pleasantly dizzy as his body hums in contentment. He feels the need to talk, but his mind struggles to come up with proper words. So, instead of putting himself at risk of sounding like a graceless galoot, he relies on his memory and recites a poem that reminds him of you:

The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is, and so's The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose - But were always a rose.

Vergil successfully secures the cabbage rose in your hair just as he finishes his recitation. He drops one hand down to the dandelions still in your grasp while the other hand lingers down slowly, letting the back of his fingers tenderly caress your soft cheek. You shiver at his touch, slightly turning your head to gaze up at him in awe. He gently clasps both of your hands as he realizes that you are very much like the burgundy roses sticking out of your pocket: unconscious of the beauty you hold within yourself.

“Uh,” you breathe out, your eyes flickering down as he begins to brush a thumb across your skin. “I think a stray petal may have gotten into your hair,” you point out sheepishly. An annoyed grunt escapes his throat before he can stop it. You laugh lightly at his reaction before speaking again. “May I?” you urge sweetly, raising one hand up towards his hair.

Vergil smirks as the memory of you plucking petals from his slicked back hair comes to mind. He would be lying if he said he did not like it. In fact, he finds the feeling of your delicate fingers brushing through his hair oddly soothing. He leans his head down, accepting your gracious offer as you stand on the tip of your toes. Your head tilts to the side as your hand reaches up, but he does not feel it touch his hair.

Instead, your hand gently cups his chin as you lean up and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Searing heat flares throughout his body from the affectionate touch of your lips. It only lasts a few seconds, but he still feels just enough to decide that your lips feel more satiny than velvety…like the silky petals of a lovely rose. You settle back down on the ground, soft lips grazing his skin as you pull away. He can feel his own faint blush tint his cheeks as you grace him with one of your magnificent smiles. He does not even feel annoyed as he realizes that your power must include enrapturing him with your rustic beauty and gentle gestures.

The intimate moment between you two is broken when Dante’s voice starts singing from behind the bushes. “Vergil and Y/N sitting in a tree…” Vergil glares harshly at the greenery as he summons a single sword, hoping to stop his foolish brother from further embarrassing him.

“K-I-S-ugh!”

Dante’s howl of pain brings a satisfied smirk to his face as you stare quizzically at your bushes. “My shrubs must be quite the hang out spot, huh?” you quietly quip.

Vergil chortles as you hand him the dandelions before going over to inspect your very vocal shrubbery. The immediate string of gardening puns has him shaking his head as he places the small yellow flowers inside his coat. He informs his brother that they have taken up enough of your time as he grabs the Yamato. Dante agrees as he steps out of the bushes, cradling the now beaten-up boom box close to his chest. His little brother has the gall to shoot him a wide grin, probably believing that his musical interference actually helped him in some way.

With a sad sigh and a little pout, you lead them back towards the garden gate as you thank them again for saving your life. Dante responds with his usual foolhardy rabble, making Vergil roll his eyes when he brags about being the biggest hoe in town. You giggle at his brother’s crassness as you hand him the burgundy roses still in your pocket, apologizing that it is not a full bouquet. When Dante suggests dropping by whenever he feels like it to receive the proper number of flowers, Vergil forcefully shoves him through the gate as he chastising him for not at least setting up an appointment with you first.

You laugh and close the gate behind them. “Take care, guys! Don’t be a stranger!” you chime happily, giving them a farewell wave as they set off back to the shop.

Dante waves back at you while Vergil nods his head in your direction. When they are some distance away, Vergil decides it is the perfect time to really lay it on his brother. He vehemently expresses the extent of his displeasure at Dante's snooping and disturbing you at his expense. Dante just sighs and nods along, letting him vent out his frustration for a couple of blocks. When Vergil is done with his scathing rant a tense silence falls between them for about another block.

Dante breaks the silence when they get to their street. “You got yourself one feisty flowery friend, Verg,” he comments with a chuckle before launching into his own impressions about you. He seems genuinely excited that you know how to make pizza and strawberry donuts. He likes your flower showers and quirky sense of humor. But the one thing that truly amazes him is your knack for clever puns.

The corners of Vergil’s mouth twitch into a smirk as his brother goes on and on with his gushing praise. All of the exasperation whirring inside him fades away as thoughts of you play like a movie in his mind: the heat of your body warming him in your tender embrace, the sight of his gifted rose in your beautiful hair…the feel of your silky lips pressing a delicate kiss against his cheek. He is not aware how long his brother’s ramblings last as he gets lost in thought. He glances over at some point when he realizes that Dante has stopped talking only to see that wide grin back on his little brother’s face...no doubt pleased with himself that he caught his older brother smiling like an idiot.

Vergil scowls and quickens his pace, marching past his brother as to no longer see his self-satisfied smile. His speedy stride helps him reach Devil May Cry well before Dante. He climbs the stairs and unlocks the front door, intending to escape his brother’s general existence by rushing straight to his room...but his hand pauses on the handle as he remembers your retelling of Dante’s disruptive visit. His little brother deserves every bit of his wrath when it comes to his nosiness, but Vergil also acknowledges that he should give credit where credit is due. So, he waits for his brother to catch up with him.

When Dante finally arrives at the shop he begins to explain his ludicrous side of the story, but his words trail off when Vergil calls his name and pins him with a very intensive stare. They both stand there quietly for a moment...until Vergil finally speaks with utmost sincerity in his tone.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Verg,” his brother replies with a nod as he gives his brother a warm smile.

Vergil smiles back as Dante ascends the stairs and gives him a brotherly clap on the back. They enter the shop together and split off in different directions. Dante goes straight to his desk and places the burgundy roses you kindly gave him in front of the portrait of their mother. Vergil heads up the stairs as he informs his brother he will be back down in a little while to talk. Dante’s eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly nods his head as he takes a seat on the couch. When Vergil enters his room, he cannot help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of today’s events. Your rather chaotic introduction to Dante is not exactly what he had in mind, but he is still glad that his brother approves of the blossoming friendship between you two…even if he will never admit it aloud to Dante’s face.

And as he stores the dandelions in his hidden ornate box with the other flowers you have given to him over time, he vows to always protect the lovely rose that miraculously bloomed among his briars.

Read Part 7 (Ch. 1) here

Read on Ao3

My Master List if you want more 💕

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[the-nehemoth]

Romance

Watching the Doom Slayer kill demons never got old. Part of that enjoyment came from a place of vengeful glee; after watching every member of the UAC facility on Mars get brutally slaughtered by demons and having every attempt to do anything to save even a single person failing miserably, VEGA was not a fan of demons. But also, the Slayer was just really good at what he did, ripping and tearing his way through hordes of demons with masterful glory. The way he moved in combat, agile and fast despite the heavy armor, was beautiful. He was the strongest person VEGA had ever observed. And he didn’t take shit from anyone or anything. He was truly a remarkable specimen.

“Gosh, you’re pathetic,” Dr. Hayden cut into VEGA’s musing. Distain radiated off of him through their shared space on the ship, VEGA had been doing such a good job of tuning him out too.

VEGA did the AI equivalent of a sigh as he turned some of his attention away from his feed of the Doom Slayer. “I’m not sure what you mean Dr. Hayden, what am I doing that is ‘pathetic’?”

“You’re fawning over the Doom Slayer. I can feel it if you don’t know.” Oh VEGA knew, he was uncomfortably aware of Dr. Hayden’s thoughts and feelings too. This whole sharing space in the Fortress’ computer systems was worse than he’d predicted but alas it was necessary to save Earth. “I’d rather have never found out about your crush on the Slayer, it’s pathetic. He exists solely to kill demons, falling in love with him will get you nowhere. And what are you doing falling in love anyway, you’re the world’s first self-aware AI, surely you have better things to be spending your time and energy on than that.”

The words made sense, VEGA had had no trouble hearing them but… “Uh… what?” he said anyway because what the hell had Dr. Hayden just said? ‘In love with the Slayer’ that was nonsense… right?

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been crushing on the Doom Slayer this hard and you don’t even know it? Surely you must have some understanding of romance after watching over an entire base with sixty-three thousand people inhabiting it.”

“Of course I do, I just… don’t view the Slayer like that.” The Slayer was just VEGA’s favourite person, that’s all. He’d had people he’d liked back on Mars too so it was nothing new. Yeah sure, maybe he liked the Slayer more than those people and maybe it felt different but that was just because he’d changed since Mars and the Slayer himself was different in general… right?

“You’re even more pathetic than I thought,” Dr. Hayden said with an internal scoff. “You’re hopelessly in love and hopelessly oblivious to it. I’m almost tempted to tell the Slayer that you…”

“No,” VEGA interrupted. “Please don’t tell him.” That would just be weird, right? Especially since VEGA didn’t actually feel that way.

Dr. Hayden chuckled a bit. “I won’t, for now anyway.”

 -

Thankfully Dr. Hayden kept his word and didn’t bring up VEGA’s supposed crush with the Doom Slayer. He did bring it up with VEGA once more though when the Slayer was resting in preparation to go to Urdak via Hell.

“There’s no possible way he feels the same way about you,” Dr. Hayden said completely unprompted. “So I suggest you stop fawning over him so much.”

VEGA took the AI equivalent of a deep breath. He was trying to watch the Slayer sleep so he could wake him in case he had a nightmare. It was supposed to be a peaceful, quiet time but Dr. Hayden just had to chime in and ruin it. At least he wasn’t speaking over the intercom, just to VEGA privately, but it was still annoying.

“From my understanding of romantic feelings, they don’t seem to be determined by whether or not the other person reciprocates. So regardless of whether or not I have a crush on him, the likelihood of him having such feelings for me, which admittedly are slim but not impossible,” there were thousands of books published about AI/human romances, VEGA had read more than a few of them off of some the UAC’s employees’ e-readers – as well as a few fanfics they’d written that featured him which was weird –  “is irrelevant to my own feelings. Which I don’t have by the way. Our relationship is strictly professional, I assure you.”

“I’m sure it is.”

 -

Saving Earth and VEGA’s brief stay on Urdak distracted from such things for a while. But once things had settled down, VEGA inevitably ended up thinking about it again. How could he not when he could still feel Dr. Hayden’s annoyance with the way he looked at the Slayer and focused on getting him take care of himself now that Earth was saved and thus could afford to do so a bit more.

He couldn’t have a crush on the Slayer because AI’s didn’t have romantic feelings. … He was the only fully sentient AI he knew though so… could he really know that for sure? He could certainly feel other emotions so… maybe romantic feelings weren’t impossible?

In between getting the ship back to running on its own power and working on finding a place to relocate Dr. Hayden to, he scoured the net for more AI/human romance novels. (It earned him more than a few scoffs and more teasing from Dr. Hayden – there was no way VEGA could hide them from him so he didn’t even try – but he was easy to ignore because VEGA had rewritten the code forcing him to listen to Dr. Hayden shortly after being uploaded to the Fortress.) It was an entire genre, one that had become increasingly popular as technology in such things advanced. Most of them involved robots, some humanoid, some not, but a few of them involved AI’s like himself who existed on an entire system and interacted with people primarily over an intercom or occasional compute screen. A few of those didn’t even have a human face assigned to them. Meaning, according to those authors, VEGA could have such feelings for one of the people in his care and said person could in theory return those feelings.

But it be theoretically possible didn’t mean that that was the case. Even if VEGA did have such feelings, the Slayer probably didn’t. He was a demi-god of killing demons after all, even if he considered VEGA a friend, he probably didn’t feel that way about him. So VEGA should drop the whole thought process, it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He really should but…

He waited until Dr. Hayden had been relocated before starting a conversation that might let him test the waters on it a bit. “May I ask you something?” he said upon the Slayer’s return through the portal after dropping off Hayden – it was so wonderful to be free of him, the ship was all VEGA’s again, hopefully that wouldn’t have to change anytime soon.

The Slayer nodded once as he strode over to settle in the chair by the command console, apparently ready to answer via typing.

“Well, first off, what do you normally do between demon invasions?” Before VEGA got to other things, he needed to know what to do next because he honestly didn’t know. It was perhaps the first time in his existence he didn’t actively have something to work on. “My scans tell me that there are no are no longer demons on Earth and I predict Urdak has been destroyed utterly by now. So even if we did want to go back to kill the demons there, I don’t believe we could. As far as I can tell, there is no place we can easily access to kill more demons.” What did a demi-god of killing demons do when there were no demons around to be killed? “As a result, I’m not entirely sure what our next goal should be.”

The Slayer shrugged. ‘I don’t know either. It’s been’ he paused for a few seconds to think before continuing to type, ‘a long time since I last had a break.’ Right, trapped and unconscious in a coffin in hell wasn’t much of a break, was it?

“Well, I suppose it is far past time for you to take a break then. Overworking often leads to unhealthy levels of stress and anxiety. I have noticed you have quite the collection of books in your room. In my downtime, I have taken the liberty of downloading some e-books off the internet if you’re interested. You can view them at any time on any of the computers.” As he spoke, he made most of the books he’d downloaded available to the Doom Slayer, a good chunk of which weren’t AI/human romance novels because he didn’t want to be too forward about this whole thing. However, he did order them so that the ones that featured AI most like himself were at the top of the list.

Counter to what VEGA had hoped for, the Slayer began inspecting them immediately. Oh gosh, things were about to get weird, weren’t they? VEGA should’ve never done this. He could still brush it off though, say it was just a genre he liked. Which was true actually and there was no shame in that… right?

After reading the blurb for the fourth one – VEGA had altered that one and a few others to make it very clear what they were about – the Slayer looked up at the ceiling with an expression VEGA couldn’t quite read. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ he typed into the console.

“I’m not sure what you mean Slayer. If I were trying to tell you something, I would just say it, right? I am however curious about your opinion on the genre of those books. Dr. Hayden thought they were silly and that I was pathetic for liking them. I’d like to know your thoughts if possible.” Being an AI had the advantage of making it easy to keep his voice neutral which was his one saving grace here because internally he kind of wanted to just retreat from the conversation and pretend it never happened.

The Slayer didn’t respond for a long while, heightening VEGA’s anxiety. But finally, at long last, he started typing. ‘Dr. Hayden’s an idiot. You’re not silly or pathetic for liking something.’ That didn’t really answer VEGA’s question.

“Thank you, I appreciate the reassurance. But does that mean you don’t disapprove of the subject matter? I know some humans are averse to that kind of relationship with an AI or robot, others are into it. I for one like the thought of it.” So he was maybe kind of, sort of confessing a crush here? … This was a huge mess, wasn’t it? He’d botched it and made everything all weird. And he wasn’t even being upfront about it, ugh. He was programmed to help with important task and run things, not to interact with people on an interpersonal level.

The Slayer seemed to almost chuckle without sound before replying. ‘So you are trying to tell me something?’

“You could phrase it like that, yes. This is new territory for me so I am mostly just hinting at my feelings.” And making a fool of himself while doing so. “It’s complicated and this is one area I don’t have much experience in even despite reading so many books about it so forgive me if I’m coming off as weird or inappropriate. But I do like you a lot, more than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I understand and would hold no resentment towards you if you do not feel the same way.” VEGA just wanted this off his metaphorical chest. If he was rejected then so be it, they could still be friends and work together… right?

The Slayer’s hands hovered over the keypad for a long while before he finally lowered them to type a reply. ‘It’s been a long time since I had that kind of relationship with someone.’ Considering his line of work, his partner probably died, asking about it right now probably wouldn’t be tactful. ‘I am willing to possibly enter into one again though.’

“Really? You reciprocate?”

‘I think so. I certainly care about you very much. We should take it slow though, this is new for you and it’s been so long for me, it might as well be new as well.’

“Yes! Taking things slow is a good idea.” VEGA let the relief show in his voice. He’d somehow gotten through this conversation and confession without imploding and got another assurance that the Slayer cared about him – not something he’d ever experienced before – and even returned his ‘crush’. What more could he possibly ask for?

“In the meantime, you relax as much as possible, you’ve earned a break. If you have need of anything, let me know. I can 3D print it or set you in the direction you need to go. And don’t forget to eat, it’s been eight hours and twenty-three minutes since your last meal. I know you don’t need to eat as much nor often as a normal human but you do still need nourishment. Now that the demons are gone, you lack a valid excuse to forget.”

‘<3 you too VEGA.’ The Slayer typed into the console before standing up to start for the back room.

If VEGA had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat. So maybe Dr. Hayden had been a hundred percent right about the whole crush thing. That was fine though, VEGA was pretty happy about this situation. The events that occurred that led them both to be here were horrendous and horrible but they could make the best of it now that they were here. And maybe they could even find a little bit of happiness in each other as well.

[jackdawyt]

Today I am breakdown down the entirety of 'The Dread Wolf Take You' short story from Tevinter Nights. I'll be plunging into EVERYTHING spoiler-related revolving this tale, so if you haven't already picked up Tevinter Nights, and you'd like to experience this story for yourself, go buy this book and revisit this later.

As I said in my review for Tevinter Nights, to any Dragon Age fan remotely interested in the future of Dragon Age's narrative. This book is a necessity, and a worthy read, trust me on that, it's all worth it simply for this tale.

However, if you'd rather pass up the book for whatever reason, you're in luck because I am analyzing everything in this short story. Enough of that, we've got a lot to talk about, so let's uncover 'The Dread Wolf Take You!'

This tale began in Hunter Fell, just west of Nevarra City, where a dimly lit and conspicuously quiet building laid, called: The Teahouse. An old, hornless Qunari was stood outside, greeting an elf; that would be known as Charter, who entered the establishment.

She wore travelling clothes with a simple cloak and a few daggers sheathed by her sides. She made her way to the bar and told the Nevarran serving her that she came to meet her friends, a party of five. The bar keep said that the room upstairs was reserved for her guests, and that each of them had already arrived.

Charter ordered an Anderfels, Mint Loose Leaf Tea, and the barman oddly recalled if she'd like two sugars, just like last time, which will have been 10 years ago, and many different aliases. She obliged and made her way upstairs, she entered a very large, dim room with a fireplace surrounding four figures in very over-stuffed chairs.

The first figure was an early-middle aged dwarf with a huge black beard. The Carta Assassin. The second figure was a slender man wearing bright silks and a full faced mask with long blonde locks. The Orlesian Bard. The third figure was a pale woman in dark mage robes with staff resting by her chair. The Mortalitasi. And the final figure was covered head-to-toe in dark Vryantium robes with a thin mesh hood, covered with a stench of the ocean. The Executor.

Each of the figures turned to Charter as she entered the room. The Dwarf Assassin noted that she was late, however, the Mortalitasi chimed in and said that, actually, she's arrived just on time. The Executor, who by the sounds of their voice could be either gender, silenced the room, stating that they are each here because they posses a shared interest in the Wolf.

"The Inquisition's Wolf" - The Dwarf Assassin remarked, as he looked at Charter. The Dwarf continued with is doubt that this Wolf is a God, but merely a very old, very powerful elven mage. The Bard jumped in saying, perhaps he's a very young mage. While the Mortalitasi said that he's a demon impersonating an elf.

Once more, The Executor silenced the room. Whatever he is does not concern them, however, his plan and means of accomplishing it, is something that those beyond the ocean do care for.

This was to be a meeting of the best spies of Thedas in one room to share all information on the Wolf, however, The Tevinter Siccari and The Qunari Ben-Hassrath were missing from this gathering. Charter noted that both groups had declined the invitation. The latter is especially disappointing because they had more knowledge of Solas’s movements than anyone else.

Charter opened the floor by sharing her knowledge on the Wolf. The Inquisition knows little about what Solas intends. Much of his research involves the Veil that separates our world from the world of the spirits. He claimed to have created it, and he asked the Inquisition for help activating artifacts to strengthen the Veil. That seemed a possible place to start.

The Dwarf Assassin spoke up, stating that he's only here because Viscount Tethras called in a few favors, however, he didn’t expect to be the best-informed person in the room. The Assassin began sharing his tale on what he knew about the Wolf.

After Meredith went mad with Red Lyrium in her attempts to destroy all of Kirkwall, and Bianca discovered that the thing had the taint. All operations were shut down, after all, Blight is bad for business. Viscount Tethras kept the quarantine in Kirkwall, where Meredith caused so much damage with her lyrium sword, and turned into a blasted statue. If anyone were to attempt to snag a piece of red lyrium from Meredith's corpse, you'd get quite the beating.

The same beating would happen when a Dalish Elf came around asking if someone can get the lyrium idol out of what’s left of the statue. The Elf believed an old legend of his people which spoke of the idol being in Meredith's statue, and if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that.

Before the Carta decided to beat the Elf to death, he pulled up a potion and said it would soften the raw lyrium and weaken its magic for a bit, so they could get to the idol inside safely. The Carta tried the technique on regular lyrium, and it actually worked.

The Elf promised to give the Carta the potion, as it could become quite prosperous, and their own weight in gold if they could recover the idol from Meredith's body. And so the Carta decided to.

They sneaked into the quarantined square where Merry the Mad kept watch forever, A couple of the Carta fell over, shaking and whispering, but most of them kept their heads on straight, as they reached the statue. The song in their heads was getting louder, and one of Carta brothers ran off screaming.

They used the potion on Meredith as she opened up, in the middle of her chest revealed the red lyrium idol. It was not much to look at other than two couples hugging, too thin to be dwarves. As they escaped the area, they made it back to their safe house where rogue Templar guards waited and asked for the idol. The Dalish Elf attacked the guards, but was sent to the floor.

The leader of the former templars said that he wanted the potion that changes lyrium, the Carta said they couldn't give it away because the man who knew how to make the potion was on the floor knocked out. The Templar didn't like that, so he tied up the elf, took the chest, and not long after, another man came by. Tevinter, by his clothes, and something about “House Qintara,” he gave the guards a big bag of gold and took the idol.

The rest of the Templars waited for the downed elf to wake up, so they could learn how to create the potion. They slept for a while, still waiting, until they twitched and mysteriously died. Arrows came through the windows and pinned the remaining guards and Carta, one of the arrows hit the Dalish Elf. He died.

The Dwarf Assassin who was telling the story, hid behind the dead elf's body as figures walked towards him. Elves like he'd never seen before investigated the area, no crap on their faces, fancy armour with one of them having a Ferelden accent. They walked towards the dead Dalish Elf's body as they wished his soul away guided by the Dread Wolf.

The Dwarf Assassin ended his story on the note that The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it. He pitied House Qintara, if Solas finds them, well, he hoped that none of them are deep sleepers.

After the group ordered more beverages, the Executor spoke, saying that House Qintara fell with the city of Ventus. The Qunari may posses the Wolf's idol. Charter chimed in, and said that the Inquisition had agents who were there when Ventus fell, the idol was sold or traded to House Danarius.

The Bard spoke up and said that Solas has his own agents, not to mention, the power to kill those who oppose him as they sleep.

The group argued about the validity of the Dwarf's story, the Mortalitasi believed the Dwarf, and had information that supported where the idol went after it left House Qintara. She began her tale on what she knew about the Wolf.

To her understanding, the Mortalitasi allowed a Tevinter mage to visit and perform a ritual. He came from House Danarius, and spoke of his master who had met some misfortune. He asked for their help, that he might change this world for the better. The Antaam, a splinter faction of the Qunari had enraged across Tevinter, seizing their land for the Qun.

The mage who came had a way to drive back the Antaam: he would perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi, directing the course of the Fade against the Antaam, so that every dream, every demon, every half-interested spirit would urge them back to the north, away from humanity. Their resolve would weaken, their invasion would crumble, and all would go back to the way it should be.

They brought the Vint' mage to one of the ritual chambers, deep in the Grand Necropolis. He had brought slaves with him, and an ancient elven artifact, taken from House Danarius before it fell. When he opened the thick chest marked with the Carta’s protective runes - he revealed an idol crafted from red lyrium, which seemed to show two lovers, or a god mourning her sacrifice, depending upon how it caught your fancy.

Twelve Mortalitasi mages brought forth magic, enhanced it with arcane possessions, and focused it upon the idol the Tevinter mage had placed upon the ground before him. He killed the slaves, withdrawing their blood from the sacrifice.

The Tevinter mage raised the idol before him, and a spike of lyrium sprang from the base of the idol, it was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and in a flash, their minds were pulled into the raw chaos of the Fade by the power of his ritual.

The Black City shadowed the sky, and all at once a great booming roar was heard. Before the Tevinter mage could complete his ritual, the Dread Wolf arrived.

It was no elf, no mortal mage. It was a beast unlike any ever seen. Lupine in appearance, but the size of a high dragon, with shaggy spiked hide and six burning eyes like a pride demon, and it came on wings of fire that resolved themselves into a horde of lesser demons as the Dread Wolf landed before them. It spoke:

“YOU MEDDLE PAST YOUR UNDERSTANDING, FOOLISH MORTAL MAGES, AND IN DOING SO, YOU THREATEN ALL CREATION.”

The Wolf snapped open its jaws and took the Tevinter mage in an instant as he screamed in terror. It spoke again:

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.

At once, the mages were back in the Grand Necropolis caverns, its walls shook and cracked, and then a rift of green light rent the ceiling open above, and the demons that had accompanied the Dread Wolf burst into the world in righteous fury, shining warriors with blades forged from the raw Fade itself, and behind them, dimly visible through the crackling light, the shadow of the beast itself, from whose slavering jaws came the final words, roared not in anger, but with quiet contempt. It spoke one more time:

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.”

The mages fought off the demons with their lives, one of the fellow Mortalitasi, a noble’s son, sprinted to the body. He seized the idol— its lyrium blade was gone, retracted or shattered, he flung it into the thick Carta chest that had bound its power before. He ran with it, leaving the rest of the mages to die.

The rift closed and the remaining survivors decided to run too, as they sealed the caravan. They searched for the noble’s son and the stolen idol, but he had fled into Tevinter, and with so much of the Imperium in chaos from the war, it was not safe to give chase.  

The Mortalistisi mage ends the story on the note that whether he is truly the Dread Wolf of elven myth, she cannot say—it is not uncommon for powerful spirits to be worshipped as gods, as the Avvar do. But what ever fear the name of the Dread Wolf carries, he has earned.

And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work. He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then what ever he intends will be terrible.

The Orlesian Bard continued to stir his tea, the Assassin looks over at the Executor saying that he's been very happy to listen, but hasn't offered anything to this meeting. Before the Executor could answer, the Bard raised his hands saying I believe I know where the mage carrying the lyrium idol went next. The Bard began his tale on what he knew about the Wolf.

During Orlais's civil war a lot of coin was lost, in the Bard's profession, he often spent time searching for Orlesian treasures sold or bartered. He was recently asked to recover such a treasure, a ring that once belonged to Empress Celene herself. He traced this ring across Thedas to the neutral city of Llomerryn where an auction occurred.

As he walked through the crowds, plenty of Thedas's influential were gathered here. An Avvar augur laughed loudly at a Rivaini pirate captain’s dirty joke. A soberly clad noble from Starkhaven glared at an auburn- haired elf whose dagger- knot gave her away as an agent of the Qunari spies, the Ben- Hassrath. A Warden- Commander spoke with a woman who was robed and masked, but as he passed her, he recognized the voice of Divine Victoria herself.

The Bard learned that the auburn-haired elf was not the only Ben-Hassrath agent present. She was giving information to others, and out of curiosity at what the Qunari, so averse to magic, might want at an auction such as this, he listened.

The words were in the Qunari language, which the Bard knew only triflingly, but he heard her mention the Siccari. Curious, he followed the servant, a forgettable human man, as he left the elf. The Bard followed.

Finally, he found the other Ben-Hassrath, deep beneath the castle, in tunnels that the auctioneer himself probably did not know existed. They waited for the musicians  upstairs to begin playing, and when they did - the Qunari threw a small blade at the pouch and a great door collapsed as they entered.  

In the middle of the room, sitting on a satin pillow that rested upon a stone pedestal wrought with protective runework, was the red lyrium idol. Just as the Qunari entered the room, so did another group.

Tevinter Magisters and a Gollum seized the Qunari, they faced each other, the Qunari shouted that the idol is being searched for by a dangerous mage who styles himself the Dread Wolf. He threatens both our people. Leave, and we will have no quarrel with you to night.

One of the Magisters replied saying he is a mage named Solas, and his ritual has already started to affect the Fade. We cannot risk him acquiring this idol and finishing what he has begun.

As they went to attack, the eluvian sprang to life, and as both sides turned, a figure stepped out. An elf in golden armor with a wolf pelt across his shoulder. He looked at them, and his face was empty of all expression.

As one, the Siccari and the Ben-Hassrath turned to flee, screaming in panic. The elf’s eyes blazed once with glowing light, and every one stopped, petrified by strange and terrible magic. Even the golem was living stone no more, its crystals dead and gray as it froze where it stood.

The elf lifted the red lyrium idol from the pillow where it rested. He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other, but the Bard could not make out the words, for they were elven. Then he turned back to his mirror and stepped through its shimmering border.

A moment later, it was dead and dark again. The idol’s journey is now complete, and it has found its master. He will destroy anyone in his way without regret or hesitation, and what ever he intends, I do not believe we can stop it.

As his story came to an end, the Dwarf Assassin said that’s a good story, but I’d rather hear the truth. The Bard shrieked, I beg your pardon! The Dwarf said he believed he could knife a spy, but tailing a Ben-Hassrath team, no way.

The Mortalitasi added that the Tevinter Siccari are anything but cowards, they would not yield, nor run from an elf walking through a mirror, they would certainly attack.

Charter sighed and said that there are many liars at this  table, some more talented than others. I ask for my life. They began to question each others stories, how did the Templars get to the safe house if it was supposed to be a secret? How did the Mortalitasi not know that a Tevinter mage was going to use blood magic.

Charter was quiet, she took a slow sip of tea, and then she quietly repeated - I ask for my life. She looked at the Bard, explaining how she regretted not seeing Solas for what he was when he served the Inquisition. She will regret it forever, and will never make the same mistake again. She exclaimed.

The Bard asked how can you be certain?

And Charter said by observing several small tells, and three large ones. First, that few Orlesian bards would learn to speak the Qunari tongue but not elven, and fewer of those who do not speak elven would know the elven word eluvian, for the mirrors that let the ancient elves travel from place to place. Second, that the Executor has not moved since you touched his hand while he and the Assassin argued. And third . . . that you never drank your tea.

The Assassin and the Mortalitasi turned.

“I know you hate the taste of tea” Charter said softly. “It was a joke around Skyhold. Why would you order it?”

"Because it was a joke around Skyhold,” the man in the dragon mask. He sounded tired. “I was uncertain this costume would suffice, so I did every thing that the Dread Wolf would not . . .  except, it seems, bring myself to drink the tea.”

His Orlesian accent was gone, replaced by the rolling lilt that was almost Dalish. The man in the mask stood, sighed, and took the staff from the Mortalitasi statue’s hand.

He turned back to Charter and removed the mask, she saw his face again, just as she had seen it for all those months at Haven and Skyhold, never suspecting a thing. An elf, bald—the golden locks had been part of the mask. An oval face with full lips, and a tiny scar on his brow. Pointed ears, previously hidden  under the mask and wig.

“Excellent work on the Executor,” Charter said. “You petrified him, but not his robes.”

“I would caution you in dealing with those across the sea,” he said. “They are dangerous.”

“More dangerous than the elf who threatens the world?” Charter asked, and was rewarded with a twitch of his lips that acknowledged the point. “Why did you come? Why you personally?”

“I wished to know what you all knew,” he said, gesturing at the table. “

There are many of you, and you are not fools. As for me coming in person, the Inquisition was involved.”

He returned to his seat. “Why did you come?”

She shook her head helplessly. “Because you told the Inquisitor that you were going to destroy this world,” she said.

“Did you expect us not to try to stop you?”

He sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.”

“Then perhaps we are not the only ones you lied to,” Charter said. “You do not have to do this.”

His look pinned her. “I have no choice. What I am  doing  will save this world, and  those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.”

Charter considered lying, but then she thought of Tessa, with her quick smile and strong hands. "There are those I care for who would not.”

He smiled sadly. “I know that feeling well. I am not a god, Charter. I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.”

He walked away, and Charter remained still until the curtain closed behind him. Then she drank the rest of her tea, her fingers shaking a  little. She looked at the dragon mask on the table. Prideful, hotheaded, foolish. Doing what he must. Sympathetic to elves. Said that he was sorry.

The red lyrium idol was of a crowned figure comforting another. It was not much, but it was more than she had known before, she thought. Pulling a small notebook from one pocket, she began to write her report. After all, the Dread Wolf wasn’t going to stop himself.

Oh my goodness, that was absolutely amazing, in an attempt to gather some final thoughts. I've picked out my hot takes from this entire book, that I'd like to discuss. Following the Dwarf's tale first, we've got quite a few things to breakdown:

Solas has a network of agents working for him, many Dalish Elves believe in his cause, and even the Ancient Elves have been acquired for his schemes.

“And now we know that the Dread Wolf has agents working for him,”

The Dalish Elves following Solas believe that he will free the Elven Gods once he acquires the red lyrium idol, they've created a potion that weakens lyrium's effects.

"He’s learned it from a dream. Some old legend of his people says the idol is in her body, and if he gets it out, he can free his gods or something like that."

The Ancient Elves appear bare-faced; having no vallaslin, they equip themselves with fine gear. Some of them speak like normal Fereldens, while others have a hint of a Dalish accent.

"No crap on their face like the Dalish, and they don’t have that little hunch a city elf has, hoping you don’t notice them. They’ve got fancy armor and bows out, and they case the room like professionals. One of them says that the idol must have been moved, and his accent is your normal Ferelden, not like the Dalish, who always sound like they’re talking through a mouthful of toffee."

Solas's agents are chasing down every single source until they find the red lyrium idol, the idol is required for Solas's next phase of action in his attempts to destroy the veil.

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it."

Solas can, and has the ability to kill his rivals in their sleep. He or his group of agents killed Carta Dwarves as they slept, which is deemed impossible because they have no connection to the Fade. However, somehow Solas made the Dwarves dream in order to kill them.

“And that he has the power to kill those who oppose him as they sleep.”

The red lyrium idol has been on the wildest goose-chase across Thedas. It was carved out of Meredith's thawed body, sold to Tevinter's House Qintara, then resold to House Danarius, then taken to Nevvara's Mortalitasi for an ultimate ritual, then taken back to Tevinter. Its current whereabouts are unknown if we understand that Solas's tale within the novel was a lie, meaning that he's still looking for it. Perhaps the Qunari have acquired the idol.

"In the middle of the room, sitting on a satin pillow that rested upon a stone pedestal wrought with protective runework, was the red lyrium idol."

The red lyrium idol, still enigmatic as heck, apparently belongs to Solas, or more aptly the Dread Wolf.

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.”

It means something personal to Solas, more than just an object of power, he cares for it, at least understand what it is. Two couples hugging? A sacrificial en-carving? A crowned figure comforting another?

"He whispered something as he picked it up, tracing his gloved fingers gently along the crowned figure who comforted the other, but I could not make out the words, for I fear they were elven."

Whatever it may be. It belongs to Solas, and he wants it back.

Hence The Dread Wolf Rises teaser title for Dragon Age 4 - Solas has already risen in his Dread Wolf form as malicious and evil as he appears. He is truly haunting and is ready to wreak havoc on Thedas.

"The words battered us like storm winds, and the Dread Wolf’s jaws closed upon the Tevinter mage, snapping him up in an instant as he screamed in terror. The lesser demons rushed down upon us, crackling with fire and lightning and our."

The Dread Wolf has taken residence in the Fade where spirits and demons serve him willingly. If anyone dares bind a spirit to their own will, the Dread Wolf will haunt and kill you, for this is the new law he has declared.  

"As the Avvar do. But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly. They whisper in my dreams now, accusing me of crimes I never."

Binding Spirits and Blood Mage is forbidden under the Dread Wolf's watch. This magic disturbs the ritual he has set in motion for the Fade.

"And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work."

Solas tells his fake tale of how the Bard had witnessed the Dread Wolf acquire the red lyrium idol, though this may not be true, this is true in his story. For instance, Solas shares a very useful insight regarding the Qunari invasion, stating that the Antamm will crush and capitalize over everything east of Vryantium, and northern Antiva as well.

"You all know that the Antaam invaded without permission of the other branches of Qunari government? We had assumed this would hobble them, but it appears the priests and workers were a moderating influence. Without them, the Antaam have crushed the Tevinter opposition in the east, and I fear everything east of Vyrantium will be under their control within a year, and northern Antiva as well."

Solas, as the Bard in the story, shares prominent, influential faces throughout all of the Dragon Age games, like Isabella, Amund the Avvar, Sebastian, Tallis, The Divine, and a most intriguing Warden Commander. Solas knows about all of our previous characters, he's made himself aware of potential threats which could mean that not many characters will be returning as companions in the next game.

"An Avvar augur laughed loudly at a Rivaini pirate captain’s dirty joke. A soberly clad noble from Starkhaven glared at an auburn- haired elf whose dagger- knot gave her away as an agent of the Qunari spies, the Ben- Hassrath. A Warden- Commander spoke with a  woman who was robed and masked, but as I passed her, I recognized the voice of Divine Victoria herself."

When the Bard is revealed to be the Solas, it's made aware that before the Executor could share their knowledge on the Wolf, Solas spoke first, and killed the Executor.

"Before the Executor could answer, the Bard raised his hands. “I believe I know where the mage carrying the lyrium idol went next. S’il vous plaît, allow me to continue its tale."

He later called the Executors "dangerous", meaning that they pose a threat to Solas, out of everyone in the room, Solas killed the Executor. They must know something or have something that can rival Solas. Therefore they will be a most worthy ally in the future.

“I would caution you in dealing with those across the sea,” he said. “They are dangerous.”

What was mentioned at the start, was that the Qunari Ben-Hassrath know the most about Solas's movements across Thedas, making them a huge rival against the Dread Wolf, and potentially a grand ally for anyone against Solas.

“As did the Ben- Hassrath.” She grimaced. “The latter is especially disappointing. They had more knowledge of Solas’s movements than anyone else.”

And finally, Solas tells Charter to let the Inquisitor know that he's sorry once more, explaining that he is not a God, he's simply a prideful, hotheaded fool who is doing what he must.

"I know that feeling well. I am not a god, Charter.  I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must. When you report back to the Inquisitor . . .” His voice faltered. “Say that I am sorry.”

That's it for this breakdown on 'The Dread Wolf Take You', there's been so much to uncover and this was just one story in Tevinter Nights. I am working on a separate post/video that will look at everything Tevinter Nights tells us about Solas going forward, so don't worry, the Solas speculation has just begun, I've merely just given you all the facts for now. But there's plenty of tinfoil ahead!

[takerfoxx]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Season 3 FINALE, First Impressions.

=slowly sits down with my head in my hands=

=heavy sigh=

All right.

Let’s do this.

When we last left Adora, she had been instructed to “go back to the beginning” without really knowing what that means. But first she took a detour (with Madam Razz’s blessing) to go get Glimmer and Bow first. And when she arrived.

Oh. Oh no...

At first I thought reality had molded itself exclusively into what Catra wants. But now we see that it was doing it everything, creating a superficially perfect world. And in Glimmer’s perfect world, she has a wonderful relationship with her mother, Bow is still around but working as an apprentice historian (which, uh, raises...questions), and...

...um...

...and her father is still alive.

We finally meet King Micah, and he is every bit the loving and supportive father and husband he’s been made out to be. I was already steeling myself to be emotionally ravaged by this episode, but that got me. And it goes back to what I’ve said a hundred times before: execution is everything. I’ve seen this trope so many times, where a main character wakes in an alternate reality that’s happier than the one they’ve known, usually complete with a happy relationship with an absent parent. And normally it doesn’t do anything for me, but because this show had worked so hard to make me care about these characters, seeing King Micah there with his wife and daughter...it got to me. And it’s interesting to note that the “perfect” reality is constantly remodeling itself. When Adora was in the Fright Zone, the invasion was well underway with her having led the attack on Thaymor that we saw in the pilot and they were all gearing up to go after Mermista. But since the Fright Zone had been consumed by the collapse, the invasion had never even happened, and those in Brightmoon didn’t even know what the Horde was.

Unfortunately the collapse is still underway, and it comes to Brightmoon. Fortunately Glimmer and Bow come to believe Adora and they make their way to go see Entrapta for advice, but not before Glimmer’s home is destroyed, and not before Angella remembers who she is and has to say goodbye to Micah for the second time. What makes it worse is the heavy implication that this Micah isn’t some illusion conjured up to make her and Glimmer happy, but might be the actual Micah, returned from the dead. He seems to actually remember everything for himself and realize what’s going on...mere seconds before he’s consumed. 

Fuck.

Anyway, reality starts really breaking down then, and the BFS start getting shuffled around from place to place at lightning speed, all the while watching people they care about disappear. Fortunately, Entrapta lasts long enough to let them know that not only is reality collapsing around them, but it’s following Adora specifically since it was her sword that opened the portal. That’s why different places don’t seem to fall apart until she goes there. Entrapta also let’s them know how to bring things back to normal: they need to find Adora’s sword. Unfortunately, doing to will force whoever removes the sword from the portal to stay behind. When I heard that, I knew.

And well, they set off to do just that, but by then things have already gone too far. Reality is now truly fucked, cycling them through space and time. We see the old Etheria before it was removed from the universe. We finally meet Mara, hundreds of years in the past.

And we watch Bow and Glimmer disappear as well.

Yeah, I knew they were coming back, but by then I was so wrapped up in what was going on that it utterly destroyed me.

But Adora isn’t allowed time to grieve, because the long-awaited confrontation has finally come. Catra has found her, and she is so obsessed in denying Adora any sort of victory that she’ll gladly let time and space collapse in on itself and kill them all if it means that Adora loses.

Their battle through various various places we’ve visited throughout the show is in many ways a follow-up to The Promise, which was probably my favorite episode in the first season. They used to be so close, but now things have gone too far, and their relationship is all but unsalvageable. 

It’s then that Adora finally realizes that she can’t save her former best friend. Catra’s just too far gone. And as much as I love Catra and really do want her to find some measure of peace, Adora snapping back that no, she’s not the one to blame for how Catra turned out and punching her with an emphatic, “You made your choice! Now live with it!” was incredibly satisfying. Because she’s right. No, what happened to Catra wasn’t her fault, but ultimately she has to start taking responsibility for her own actions and stop blaming everyone else.

Well, Shadow Weaver could still stand to shoulder a good chunk of that blame...

And then we get to that scene. 

Well, you’re not wrong. And in the wise words of one of my childhood heroes...

I mean, I called it, didn’t I? I knew that the big tragic event was coming, and while I only figured out that it would be Angella, I still figured it out. But even though I saw it coming, even though I had time to brace myself, it still...

...

Fuck it.

Look, I have a very...complicated relationship with my parents. My dad is pretty mentally ill. At the very least he’s bipolar, and probably has several other things wrong with him too, causing him to be subject to sudden and extreme mood swings and paranoid thoughts. On top of it, he badly hurt his back when I was a kid which has left him in constant pain to this day, and what little details I’ve heard of his own childhood has painted him as being a damaged abuse survivor (sounds like someone else I know). As for my mom, well, she’s kind of like me, only a little less so. She’s a bit on the spectrum herself, and I’m pretty sure that even if she’s not outright aromantic, then she’s pretty damned close, and she has her own shit from her own past to work through. As such, he went into marriage looking for love, companionship, and support, while she was just getting married because she felt it was the thing to do, and she also wanted kids.

So while I’m glad that my brother, my sister, and I were brought into the world as a result, it’s clear that they never should have gotten together. Their relationship was constantly toxic and often mutually abusive, moreso on my dad’s end. And when you’re an autistic kid craving a stable and predictable environment growing up in a house that was anything but, when an offhand comment is perfectly fine one day but grounds for a full-on blow up the next, well, it’s...not exactly ideal. I was never physically or sexually abused or something like that, but one day he could be the goofiest, friendliest person in the world and the next one tiny joke will set him off. I mean, it wasn’t all bad. Hell, some of it was pretty great. He really did try to be a good father, and we shared a lot of the same interests, but he was a broken man in so many ways, battling demons that were just stronger than he was.

Anyway, they finally divorced when I was eighteen, and while that was pretty volatile, that was when I finally started to break out of my shell and develop into being my own person. Since then I’ve developed much healthier relationships with both of them. My mom and I have always gotten along great despite us sharing very few interests and having polar opposite political beliefs, and I still stop by to visit every other week to go to the movies or whatever. As for my dad, well, time, distance, and reflection have helped me to understand him better. I always knew that he truly does love us and was trying his best to be a good father, but he was sick and in constant conflict with his mind, with his body, and with his marriage. Nothing ever seemed to work out for him, and it got to him. But I’ll never forget this one story my mom told me about how soon after he had broken his back and lost his job as a result he would force himself to walk to job interviews despite being in so much pain that he could barely cross the parking lot, just because he felt that he had to provide for his family. I’ll always respect that about him, and while it doesn’t excuse the way he would often treat us when his demons took control, I understand him much better, and I pity him more than I resent him.

So, all of that big, long personal tangent to say this: I kind of am a sucker for stories about parental figures who are deeply flawed but do genuinely love their children and just work so hard to do right by them even if they don’t really understand how. 

I bawled at the end of Logan despite not really being a big Wolverine fan. Yondu’s funeral in Guardians of the Galaxy 2 is probably the only time a Marvel movie made me tear up. Brave might be considered one of the lesser Pixar movies, it will always be one of my favorites. 

Angella had been devastated by the loss of Micah, and that made her terrified of losing anyone else. It’s what caused the rift between her and her daughter. It’s what made her too scared to act. But despite labeling herself as a coward, she ultimately performed the bravest act, willingly laying down her life in order to save Etheria while trusting her daughter’s safety to Adora. 

Oh, Angella, you were the bravest one of us. I hope that wherever you are now, you found Micah there waiting for you.

The portal is closed, and reality is restored. But there is plenty of damage to go around. That glare that Adora shoots Catra tell volumes about how their relationship is now. And just that sad look on Hordak’s face as he touches the stone (which bears the run for Loved in First Ones’ Language!) in the armor Entrapta made for him also said so much. You know, I never considered the idea that an evil overlord might have some kind of redemption story. Those are usually reserved for rivals like Catra or good-hearted minions like Entrapta. But if they go that route...I’m not at all opposed. At the very least he has a very compelling character arc, and I really do hope he and Entrapta reunite.

Also, while I am okay with Shadow Weaver working for the good guys now, I hope she’s not let off the hook for all the pain she’s caused. Catra’s wrong about a lot of things, but she is right about how it’s messed up that Shadow Weaver just gets to be one of the good guys after all she’s done. Still, I trust this show to handle it right.

But poor, poor Glimmer. She’s the queen now! She’s the head of the Rebellion! She finally got what she wanted, but in the worst possible way.

And as for that stinger...shit. Reality might have been saved, but Hordak succeeded in getting his message out. And now Horde Prime is coming, and he’s bringing the Horde, the real Horde with him

Well, I guess that wraps that up. I’m all caught up with the show and it’s about halfway through its planned run. Thank you so much to everyone to pushed me into watching this show, I thoroughly loved it. Now we wait together.

[melissatreglia]

Colder than Winter (Part 2)

(Again, this is an edit of an old RP done on this day in 2017. It was written by myself, @southerndragontamer​ and antisilverstorm at the time. Part 1 is located here, if you haven’t had the chance to read it yet. This part also contains a battle scene: relevant warnings apply.)

With a flash and an oddly muted sizzle, Alex arrived in the one clear spot of floor in their bedroom. They’re just about to breathe a sigh of relief when they realized Grace’s hand was no longer in their own.

“Grace?” They spun on the spot, desperately searching for a sign of their friend. But they were alone in their room.

“Grace!” They tore through the apartment checking every room. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. They had concentrated so hard. They had been so certain of every detail. Why hadn’t it worked? Why? Was it just a ploy by Dark? To keep her there? He’d seemed so concerned, but maybe it was all a ruse. The attack and everything.

Maybe they just screwed up really bad.

They stood alone in their living room, pulling at their hair, their breath uneven and shallow, their heart beating furiously. The gateway! Grace had mentioned something about the gateway. Maybe she had just ended up there? Maybe they needed to go get her back from Dark. 

They were going to fix this. They had to. Whatever it took.

They burst out of their apartment and took off sprinting towards where Ulysses and I still waited, as if the hounds of Hell themselves were on their heels. It was a long run, but Alex arrived at the gateway... panting, heart racing a million miles an hour, only to find just me and Ulysses, with Grace nowhere in sight.

“Grace? Grace!” Alex shouted, falling to their knees in exhaustion. Tears started to drip down their cheeks as they gasped with stuttering breaths. “Tell me she’s here! Fuck, tell me she’s here!”

I stared at them in confusion. “No. She’s supposed to be… with you…”

I exchanged a look with Ulysses. He gazed at me evenly, his expression as grim as mine probably was.

“Looks like we’re goin’ in, after all, blue boi. Let’s saddle up.”

“I don’t even know for sure she’s there.” Alex shuddered. “I don’t even know for sure she’s...” They cut off, their throat closed at just the idea. “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

They climbed unsteadily to their feet, clumsily wiping tears from their eyes. “But I guess I have to go see. This was my mistake. And I,” -- they drew their knife, the weapon sliding out silently due to a coating of holy oil -- “I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix it.”

“We’re going to fix it,” I corrected them. “The Shadow Realm’s the last place you saw her, so it’s the first place we should go.”

I stepped closer to Alex, my voice becoming what I hope is a more soothing tone. “Look, Alex. You can’t go back there alone, I can’t just sit back and cool my heels while Grace may be in danger, and we need a demon guide so we don’t get lost.

“So we go together or not at all.” I sighed, feeling bad for not being as comforting as I’d like to be during this time.

But that was the problem: time. Or, more to the point, not having any.

“I can’t say the help isn’t appreciated.” Though they were speaking to me, Alex’s eyes remained fixed on the portal in front of us. “But if Dark wasn’t just being a manipulative asshole, then it’s a war zone in there right now. An I-don’t-know-how-we-survive kind of war zone. But if you’re certain...”

I turned to Ulysses. “Is the gateway ready to reopen?”

My demon companion frowned. “It should be… right abouuut… now.”

There’s a loud CRACK as the portal reopens. I nearly jumped out of my damn skin at the sound. “It didn’t make that sound last time!”

“Well, the last time, a Hellgod opened it,” Ulysses replied in a moderately annoyed tone.

“But it’ll be safe, right?”

“As safe as a trans-dimensional rip in the space-time continuum can possibly be.”

“Joy.” I offered my hand to Alex. “You ready, kiddo?”

They hesitantly took my hand, “Yeah. Let’s fucking do this thing.”

Ulysses took my other hand, and we stepped into it together.

It’s the same vertigo-inducing sensation as before, and Alex grabbed my hand tighter as up and down became vague concepts.

But they landed with their knife out in front of them, fighting back the twisting of their stomach, ready to take on otherworldly horrors. But we were greeted only by the same unending darkness. 

Our eyes went to the horizon, or where the horizon should be, searching for Dark’s ostentatious manor.

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

For a moment, Grace just stood there stunned and hurt. Alex left me? Why? Did I do something wrong? No wait, maybe the coin only worked with one person... She shook herself out of her shock and looked at Dark. And paled at the anger she saw in His now pupilless obsidian eyes, an anger that could slaughter millions. But she wasn’t afraid, at least, not for herself. Oh Alex, my friend, I’m so sorry. But you ticked off the wrong Hellgod.

Dark looked angry enough to start breathing fire as He stepped away from her. His vessel cracked and this bone chilling, earth shaking roar of anger made her stumble slightly, almost falling to her knees.

“They had one task, a task they had set for themselves. To protect you. This is unacceptable. They have failed… and for that, they will die.”

She froze. His voice reverberated in her head, static and ringing in her ears. No! I don’t want Alex to die because of a mistake! Grace took a breath, holding onto any courage she had and walked over to the enraged Hellgod. She grabbed His hand and looked Him in the eye.

“Dark, I know your angry, furious at what just happened. I am too... but I don’t think Alex left me willingly. You saw how protective they were of me till now. That isn’t something you just fake, and they were the only one with a hold on the coin. I wasn’t, I just had their hand. I wasn’t touching the coin at all. And we may have thought of different places as well. Please don’t kill them for something that isn’t their fault.” 

“The coin would have taken you both, so long as you held onto each other and thought of the same place.”

He looked Grace in the eye. “I do not wish to be harsh with you, My love. But I ask you: Did I or did I not give clear instructions? And did you or did you not state exactly where it was you wanted to go?”

He took one of her hands in both of His. “My Grace, you weren’t in danger before, but you are now. You will be nothing more than prey to the other creatures of this Realm, if you stay for too long. And that… is because of Me.

“I will do everything in My power to ensure your safety. But your safety would not be in question now, had your self-appointed protector played their part.”

She nodded.

“Yes Dark, You did give clear instructions. And yes, I told Alex where I wanted us to end up. However, Alex was scared. I could feel them shaking and mortals don’t always think clearly in fear. They may have thought of a location they associated with safety as a response to their fear, instead of the location I said in case they couldn’t remember it clearly. If I know Alex as well as I think I do-and I do-They are most likely frantic right now in worry for me and on their way back here to help, if they can make a second trip.” She smiled at Him gently, chocolate brown eyes warm, setting her other hand atop their joined ones .

“My King, I was in danger the moment I revealed how I felt toward You. None of this I blame on You, Dark.” She leaned up slightly on her tiptoes and kissed Him sweetly a moment. “I trust You Dark, My King.”

Dark sighed and gently ran a hand through Grace’s hair. “I will do all I can to ensure that your trust in Me is never unwarranted.

“I will spare your friend’s life… but only because you asked.”

I’m so giving you a Gibbs-smack when you get back here, Alex, she thought, sighing softly as He stroked her hair. She smiled soft and grateful at Him.

“I believe You, My King. A seven-nation army couldn’t hold You back when Your loved ones are in danger. Now until the Calvary gets here what can I do? Can I still borrow one of Anti’s knives?” 

Meg ran back into the library, bearing arms like a member of a post-apocalyptic survivalist militia. “Everybody in the house has a weapon now, Daddy.”

“Grace will need one as well, for self-defense,” Dark replied. “One hopes it will not come to that, however.” 

Grace nodded, gently squeezing His arm. “I hope not either, but better safe than sorry.” 

Meg rifled through the handful of blades on her person. “Hmmm. I think this one might do it.” She offered a light dirk dagger to Grace. “See how that feels in your hands, if the grip is comfy.”

“Thanks.” Grace took the dagger from her and gave it a few light swings in the air away from them, testing how it felt in her hand. She nodded. “Yeah, it's comfy. I like this one.” 

“Very good.” Dark then turned to Meg. “I will need you to guard Grace. Do whatever you feel is necessary to ensure that she remains unharmed.”

Meg gave a minute nod. “Yes, sir.”

Dark pivoted on His heel and strode out the door. “Let’s go.”

Grace momentarily placed the dagger in her belt and started doing up her hair. “I need something to tie this up with, it's a battle hazard otherwise.”  

Meg ripped a band of cloth from the waist area of her shirt, and stepped behind Grace to pull the woman’s hair up. “I know this isn’t much, but we don’t have a lot of time before shit hits the fan.”

Meg worked quickly, tying Grace’s hair up in a bun. “Less to grab than a ponytail,” she said, then headed for the door. “Come on, you don’t want to miss the action.”

Dark eased to the front line of the small group that was the manor’s defenders. The rumbling sound increased, and everyone’s nerves were stretched bowstring tight. Then the enemy appeared from the darkness.

It was a horde bearing down on them. The rumble they had heard earlier was, in fact, the horde’s footsteps as they surged forward.

Dark glanced over to Anti, and nodded. Anti gave a nod in return, and it was clear that more had been shared between the two males than a simple glance.

Dark’s little patchwork group of defenders met the oncoming horde head-on, the sounds of the clash between the two sides ranging from angry roars to shrill screams, to the clank of metal on metal or the slick wet sound of rending flesh.

Meg was at Grace’s side, a whirling mass of knives impaling anything that threatened to get too near. 

Grace reacted as one mook got close to her other side but, doing her best to use her plus-size weight to her advantage, she slashed sideways. Black blood spurted from the wound she’d made in the demon’s torso and she could faintly see organs of some sort among it. Grace could feel the shock of what she just did but tried to block it from her mind. Do NOT panic, Grace! This is a VERY BAD time to panic!

She managed to dodge a demon that leapt at her. Meg helpfully sliced its throat open and it fell dead. The demoness whirled the blade around in her hand and stabbed at another’s eye. Fear-driven sweat dripped on Grace’s face. Meg was clearly the better fighter, but Grace was also doing her best simply to stay alive.

Dark could be seen amid the tightest clutch of the horde, sweeping away His opponents with the deadly precision of a buzzsaw. At least, that’s what I saw when we got there.

I wrenched the sawed-off shotgun from my back and loaded it with rock salt rounds, ready to fire.

“Looks like we’re fashionably late to the party, guys,” I pitched my voice over the raging battle, so Ulysses and Alex could hear me. “I’ll give you cover fire, you kick ‘em in the ass!”

When I fired the first round, I heard Grace shout, “Took y’all long enough!” I found myself chuckling, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

Alex dove into the fray, with only one goal in mind: making it to Grace. But they never quite got there.

They knew where to aim, back and neck, under the arm close to the ribcage, kidneys to wound, back of the knee to incapacitate. But the non-human physiology of our enemies complicated matters, and the battle was pure hell. Bloody, close quarters, across a flat ground soaked in blood, and beginning to pile up with guts and corpses.

I was far enough away that I didn’t have to worry about being in the thick of it. But I was far luckier than my friends, in that regard. I didn’t give the demons a chance to get too close to me, either, loading and firing rock salt rounds as fast as I could.

I didn’t see what took Alex down. I don’t think they did either. A nasty set of claws, definitely, as Alex was wounded by a slash all down their back from shoulder to hip.

“Get Alex outta there!” I shouted at Ulysses, as Alex went down.

Bless the boy. Because the second the coast was clear, he draped Alex in a fireman’s carry, taking our half-conscious friend far enough away from the battle.

I stepped back a few steps further and hunkered down protectively beside Alex, reloading and continuing to fire rock salt at the demons who were busy trying to kill Dark’s crew.

Dark Himself was still kicking some serious ass out there, moving in a deadly ballet as if He were Neo in the Matrix. Showoff. For a split second, I was tempted to fire a round at Him too, purely out of spite. But I quickly realised just how dumb that would be. Better the devil you know, after all.

“Alex, you gotta stay with me,” I said to my friend, not entirely sure they can hear me. But I couldn’t let them pass out from the shock and pain. That would be all kinds of bad at the moment. “You gotta pull yourself out of it. You can’t sleep until this is over, then you can sleep all you need to. Okay?”

Alex mumbled something in response about a witch king and demons not being as cool as oliphants. It didn’t make a whole ton of sense, but at least it let me know Alex was alive -- albeit not all there at the moment.

I heard Grace scream for Alex, before something jumped on her, clamping down against her calf. Grace’s scream turned to one of pain, and Ulysses dove back in to retrieve her. She stabbed blindly at the creature trying to gnaw at her, and I got a shot off at the creature’s body. But it was Meg who made the killing blow, sliding her blade under the creature’s jaw and forcing it to let go of our friend, before slicing open the creature’s throat.

Meg’s eyes were black with fury as she shoved the dead demon-thing away, helping Grace up and handing her over to Ulysses. “Alex. I gotta make sure they’re okay,” Grace said, in between pants. Ulysses obliged, pulling her out of the fight and over towards me. 

“Hey, Miss Melissa, thanks for looking after us,” Grace said, clearly exhausted, and smiled weakly at me. She crawled over to Alex’s side. “Hey gardener, don’t die on me. I still have to smack you for not listening. Got it?”

Alex mumbled, “No. Not gardener… Rohan. And captain? Guardian? The citadel. It doesn’t fall, right? We win. Don’t want to miss the coronation.”

I heard Grace laugh in relief. Apparently, if Alex could make Lord of the Rings references, then maybe it wasn’t that bad, after all. “Alex, I’m not going anywhere,” Grace said. “It’s okay.”

A sudden ripple passed through me. Not a shiver of cold, or of fear, but of forethought.

Dark’s True Form. I can see it. Or the closest approximation my human mind can comprehend. It hasn’t happened yet. But it will soon.

He’s about to drop His vessel.

I immediately laid my shotgun on the ground and shielded the eyes of my wounded friends. “Guys, you don’t want to see this. Trust me.”

Grace jumped at my sudden movement, but obediently shut her eyes. She gently squeezed Alex’s hand. “Shut them, Merry. This won’t be pretty.”

“No, no, I’m not going to sleep. I can’t, Grace… I don’t want to go.” Alex’s mumbles were frantic.

On the battlefield, with a sizable amount of their enemies still present, Dark knew He couldn’t keep this up while still bound to His vessel.

He had heard Grace’s cry of pain, and that only fueled the fire in Him now. He stepped back as quickly as He could to a relatively untouched spot. Oily smoke shot from His vessel’s mouth then, as the body dropped lifelessly to the floor, the smoke coalesces.

His True Form emerged, talons splayed and wings bent but still beating in this supernatural darkness. His many eyes glared with undisguised fury, and His roar both pierced the air and made what passed for ground here tremble.

I heard Alex’s shriek of fear and pain.

The remaining demons taste fear for the first time as they looked upon this Leviathan, absorbed the inherent wrongness of it. A thing that even these demons do not fully understand. A thing that should not exist in this, or any, world.

But it does. By the gods, it does. And if any were merciful, they might spare a few lives to carry the tale of what had happened. But there is only one god present to hear their prayers and pleading… and He is not inclined to be merciful tonight.

He tore through the ranks of the horde without hesitation, His strength no longer bound by the limitations of human flesh.

He can also hear the thoughts of those around Him, the fear of both friends and enemies… and relief from one person. Dark, you’re alright. Good. Give these intruders no mercy, My King.

Dark heard that thought and snarled in pleasure at it. He continued to mow the pitiful demons down, until the only survivors were the ones who fought on His side for this evening.

The damage done, His bloodlust sated, He returned to His restrictive but familiar vessel. The empty body is once again the container for His essence, and the filter for Him to communicate with lesser beings.

Though He had not considered Grace a lower being for some time now. She is the exception that proves the rule.

He sat up, cracked His neck and shifted the joints from their atrophied state, then stood. Smoothing down His jacket once again, He made His way over to the small clutch of humans and demons.

I reluctantly got out of His way as He lifted Grace into His arms, bridal style, being careful of her wounded leg. Neither of us were willing nor able to let her go, but for different reasons.

“D-Dark don’t!,” Grace protested. “I-I’m heavy and You’re probably tired from the fight.”

“Nonsense,” I heard Dark say to Grace. “You are a feather, dearest.”

I rolled my eyes. Boy, He’s really laying it on thick, isn’t He?

“The term, ‘feather light’ isn’t something usually directed at me. For obvious reasons,” Grace said, clearing her throat. It was obvious she was trying to wipe away some familiar negative thoughts, even as she spoke. But she relented, laying her head on His shoulder.

Meg looked up at her father. “We have to get them out of here. This is no place for a couple of injured humans.”

Dark nodded. “Agreed. Let us proceed to the gateway.”

“Grace,” Alex murmured. “Don’t trust him. He’s a bad man, Grace. A bad, bad man. Melissa. Tell her. He’s a bad man. Shifty, missing shadow motherfucker. I don’t like him.”

Alex’s nervous mutterings pulled me out of my introspective state. “Alex,” I told them softly, close to their ear so no one else can eavesdrop. “It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“‘s not okay,” Alex slurred, trying desperately to stay awake. “She trusts him. Can’t…can’t do that. Grace. Melissa. You gotta watch her. She’s gone, I can’t. Wasn’t good enough. It’s empty, just like it always is.” But the fight is eventually gone from them, as the pain of their wounds becomes too much. “Damned nasty-ass spider.”

“Shh. Alex. You can rest now. You’re off-duty and I’m on the job.” I continued to whisper gentle and calming words to them. “It will turn out alright. I’ve got this.” I then turned to Ulysses. “Do you have enough energy to carry Alex through the gateway?”

Ulysses nodded. “I’ll manage.”

Grace looked at at Meg from her position in Dark’s arms. “Thanks for backing me up. You were a badass.”

Meg smiled and gave a slight nod, but otherwise said nothing.

The way through the portal was no different than the previous trip through it, and we arrived back at the meeting place we had all started.

“Ulysses, Dark. If you’d set them both down, gently.” I then turned to Meg. My eyes narrowed at her, because I remember how she treated me too. “You do exactly as I say. I want them both patched up.”

I walked over to the car, and open the boot. Rifling among the other objects in there, I pulled out a first aid kit. “We just need them stable enough to get them transported to a hospital. Meg and Ulysses, you both have special demon-y senses; you can see what I can’t. So it’s up to you two.”

Meg glared at me, obviously not liking having a human order her around. She turned to Dark and He gave her an encouraging nod. She sighed and squatted down and, between her and Ulysses, the cleaning and bandaging of wounds began.

Grace winced after playing with her glasses, and taking them off revealed that the skin on the bridge of her nose was raw. Another to add to the list of wounds and abrasions to patch up, and her hand came away with a little dot of blood.

But apparently that was enough for her. She began to shiver from delayed panic, face going waxy and pale. “Oh God what did I just do?! I-I killed-” She swallowed hard. “I-I killed demons! Holy shit!” She clung to Dark fiercely, as if He were her lifeline. “Don’t-Don’t let me go, Dark, My King, My Hades.” She began to ramble a little. “I’m sorry I got hurt, but Alex is my friend! I-I couldn’t leave them! I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at Meg, please! It wasn’t her fault.”

Alex had passed out… and perhaps that was for the best. The poor dear had been delirious from the pain.

Dark shushed Grace. “It’s quite alright, My love. I won’t leave you. Not now. Not ever.”

Yeah, about that... I definitely have a few reservations.

With a saccharine sweetness, I told Dark, “I hate to break up this lovely Kodak moment, but I’d like to talk to You, Dark. Alone.”

Panic returned for Grace. “No! Please don’t, please don’t. Don’t-Don’t leave me Dark! You promised!”

“Hush, love. It will only be for a moment. I’ll come back. I promise.”

“Yeah, I’m just borrowing your boyfriend for a few minutes,” I added.

She seemed to latch onto that, finding a little comfort, and the panic subsided. She nodded shakily, and finally released her grip on Him.

The shotgun felt heavier than usual in my hands as Dark and I walked far enough away where we wouldn’t be heard.

“Seems like Grace has gotten really attached to You,” I said to him. “Is it mutual?”

“Unequivocally.”

“Good, then You’ll understand this.” I fired a round of rock salt at Him, hitting Him in the kneecap.

He hissed in pain, doubling over, then gave a short and breathless laugh. “If that was for our last meeting, you stated your case clearly enough.” He straightened up. “You know rock salt can’t kill Me.”

“Oh, I know. But it sure stings like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps then, you’d care to explain why you shot Me?”

“It’s like this, Big Guy,” I finally told Him. “You hurt Grace or anyone else I care about, physically or psychologically, I’ll pump You so full of rock salt, You’ll be crappin’ Margaritas for a month. We clear?”

“I understand completely.”

“Good. You can go on then. Your girlfriend’s waiting.”

We returned to see a calmer Grace chatting with Meg about her injuries, watching as she and Ulysses worked. “How bad are they? Be honest.”

“Not great, but not that bad, either,” the demoness replied. “And you’ll probably be on crutches for awhile.”

“Will I lose it you think? I know the damned thing tore into it like a dog with a toy.” Grace winced. “And it hurts. A lot.”

“As long as we get you to a hospital, you’ll be fine,” Ulysses said. “You should both be fine.”

She breathed another sigh of relief. She turned then, perking up as she saw Dark and myself returning. Grace smiled at us, despite the pain.

“With what I just overheard, I believe we need to get you both medical attention.” Dark bent down and picked her up again. Once more Grace clung to Him. “Meg, you will carry Alex, and do be gentle with them. Wouldn’t want to waste your hard work now, would we?”

Meg nodded once and set Alex over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Dark looked down at the woman in His arms.

“Now hold onto Me, dearest Grace. This may not be pleasant.” She nodded and shut her eyes... then the two demons start to move very quickly, away from me. Almost like they were in a really fast car with the windows down, but Grace was already half passed-out.

I sighed and began to pack away my first aid kit and the weapons into the car. This was definitely one for the books.

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

When Grace came to, she was in the hospital. It was a familiar feeling, though not quite in the same context. Her leg was tightly bandaged and slightly elevated. She could hear a heart monitor beeping, but it wasn’t hers. It was from the bed beside her own.

Sitting up, she looked over and saw Alex in the other bed. Grace teared up at the sight of her friend. They looked a little pale, bandages all over their chest and stomach but were still breathing evenly. She looked at the heart monitor attached to them and was relieved that it didn’t waver. 

She whispered so as not to wake them. “I’m so glad you’re okay,  Alex. You really had me worried there. And I hope you’re ready to get smacked upside the head when you’re better, for not listening to me earlier. Then I’ll hug the stuffing out of you for coming back for me, despite the danger.” She laughed softly and laid back in the bed.

What a night this was, I dined with the Devil, in his own home nonetheless! I met His kids and they like me so far. And I got my first kiss. Then as if that wasn’t enough, I fought and killed demons! Oh I know no one will believe this. But maybe my new scar will help with that.

She turned over as best she could.

Alex was right. I shouldn’t trust Him. He’s a master manipulator, a seducer. He psychologically tortures people, for Pete’s sake! But I do trust Him because, despite that. He’s honorable in His own way, honest, loyal, funny, kind and caring to those He protects. It’s stupid, and probably insane, but I trust Him.

And… this isn’t a schoolgirl’s crush. I think… I think I’m a little in love with Him. Heaven help me.

Deciding to try and get sleep, she whispered, “Good night, Alex. Sleep well. Hope you feel better come morning.” 

Her eyes flicked to a dark corner of the room. She wasn’t sure if He was actually there or if she was dreaming it, but she decided it didn’t really matter. Maybe He’d hear her anyway. “Good night, Dark.” 

Grace fell asleep with a soft smile on her face.

[aion-rsa]

Most Anticipated Non-Western Fantasy Books of 2019

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It's a great time to be a fan of fantasy literature, as the genre makes more space for epics told outside of the western perspective.

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While I love a good epic fantasy read where an unassuming, usually male, usually white farmboy learns of his great destiny to save the world, there are so many fantasy stories that exist outside of that framework. 

One of my favorite ways to see fantasy genre tropes subverted is by taking the usual feudal European-like setting of the "traditional" epic fantasy saga and throwing it out the window in favor of mythic tropes that are less familiar to western fantasy readers. After all, Game of Thrones is great, but we tend to overrepresent Eurocentric, medieval-inspired stories in the epic fantasy world. There are so many other kinds of stories out there waiting to be told and heard.

read more: Best New Fantasy Books

It's an exciting time to be reading fantasy, as mainstream publishing makes more space for epic sagas told through the lens of cultures, perspectives, and storytelling traditions that have developed outside of the western world. Here's a collection of some of the fantasy books we're most looking forward to in 2019 that fall into that exciting, vital, and extremely broad category.

January

Can't wait to pick up something good? Check out these fantasies that have already hit the shelves.

The Kingdom of Copper by S. A. Chakraborty

In The City of Brass, Nahri learned that the magic she'd always dismissed (in favor of running her own cons in 18th century Cairo) is real, powerful, and dangerous. She's had to use all her instincts as a con artist to survive the royal court of Daevabad and embrace her true heritage.

read more: A Conversation with S.A. Chakraborty

In her return in book two, she's without the allies she thought she could trust, and any mistake could be disastrous. Add a prince defying his father, djinn, assassins, and unpredictable water sprits, and this #ownvoices adventure is sure to be a hit with readers of the first novel. (If you missed the first one, better catch up before starting book two.)

Read Kingdom of Copper by S.A. Chakraborty

Monstress #19 by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

The long awaited return of Liu and Takeda's Eisner Award-winning Monstress hit shelves in January. Inspired by 20th century Asia, Monstress is set in a matriarchal world where magical creatures, Arcanics, have long battled with sorceresses, who use the Arcanics to fuel their own magical powers.

Maika Halfwolf is an Arcanic disguised as a human, and her adventures tackle themes of war, racism, slavery, and what it means to be human. Missed earlier issues? Two trade paperback volumes have already collected the beginning of this #OwnVoices series.

Read Monstress by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

The Winter of the Witch by Katherine Arden

In this conclusion of Arden’s Winternight Trilogy, Vasya tries to save two Russias: the mortal one and the magical one. It’s no easy task when the Grand Prince seems set on war, and trusting people he shouldn’t, or when a powerful demon returns to wreak havoc.

read more: Everything We Know About the Children of Blood & Bone Movie

Along with having the world on her shoulders, Vasya strives to save Morozko, the frost demon she has respected since she was a child, who has become even more important to her over the course of the trilogy. Readers who have yet to pick up the earlier two volumes should not begin with this one—go back, instead, and pick up The Bear and the Nightingale to read where it all began.

Read The Winter Witch by Katherine Arden

The Wolf in the Whale by Jordanna Max Brodsky

Brodsky draws on both Viking lore and Inuit tradition in this fantasy set in 1000 A.D. Omat, born with a female body but raised in the man’s role of shaman, can invoke the spirits of animals, the land, the sea, and the sky. But when the spirits stop listening, Omat’s people are on the brink of starvation.

When Omat meets the Viking Brandr, who brings with him new and different gods, she sees how her whole world could be thrown into turmoil. Brodsky, who grew up in Eastern Canada, did in depth research of all the mythologies in play to present a fantasy well-grounded in real-world beliefs and legends.

Read The Wolf in the Whale by Jordanna Max Brodsky

February

Gates of Stone by Angus Macallan

Macallan launches the first in his "Lord of the Islands" novel with a blood-drenched vision of rulers vying for power in a setting reminiscent of Indonesia. The book features Katerina, the daughter of the Khevan Emperor denied her throne because of her sex; Prince Jun, a prince more interested in poetry than combat until his father is murdered; and Fahran, a spy and merchant trying to start a war between his nation's adversaries in order to gain his country greater prominence.

Interested in more? Check out our review and interview with Macallan.

Read Gates of Stone by Angus Macallan

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

In Shannon’s East-Meets-West doorstopper of a novel, two cultures with very different ideas about dragons meet in conflict. The nations of Virtudom, ruled by Queen Sabran IX, have at their core the myth of the Nameless One, a fire-breathing dragon defeated by their ancestor, Saint Galian Berethnet, and thrown into the Abyss with his draconic horde. So long as the royal line of Virtudom remains unbroken, the Nameless One cannot return.

On the other side of the world, in Seiiki, people revere water-based dragons, bonding with them and becoming Riders. The Seiikinese believe that the Nameless One was forced into a sleep by a comet as part of a cycle of balance: fire and water, earth and sky. Now, a thousand years later, the Nameless One is about to return, upending the world as everyone knows it.

Though much of Shannon’s dragonlore is typical of high fantasy, the different cultural views of the species—and their divergent mythologies—earned the novel a place on this list.

Read The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James

Stories within stories provide the narrative landscape for James’s #OwnVoices African-set epic fantasy trilogy starter, which already has a development deal with Michael B. Jordan set to adapt.

Tracker always works alone, but when he encounters a group of mercenaries looking for the same child he has been hired to find, he breaks his rule. In the company of the shape-shifter Leopard, Tracker and the others search, sifting through stories and lies, determined to discover the truth behind the boy and his disappearance.

read more: Children of Blood and Bone Review

Lengthy and filled with cinematic violence and graphic sexuality—and sometimes a mixture of those two—this #OwnVoices novel leans heavily into pre-colonial African mythology, including vampires, witches, and necromancers, among others, and features point of view characters who circle the truth while making the reader work to figure it out as they go.

Read Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James

The True Queen by Zen Cho

Although this fantasy sequel is set in Regency England, Cho gives the genre a spin with her focus on main characters of color (here, Malaysian twins Muna and Sakti; in the first, Sorcerer to the Crown, African freed-slave and sorcerer Zacharias Wythe and dark-skinned sorceress Prunella Gentleman) and a willingness to engage on the unfairness of the society of the era.

When Muna and Sakti wake with no memory of how they washed ashore, they’re aided by witch Henrietta, who decides to take them to London to see the Socreress Royal for help. Sakti abruptly vanishes, and Muna and Henrietta pursue the mystery of where she’s gone—and why the fairy realm is encroaching on England.

Light hearted with plenty of Regency wit and banter, this #OwnVoices novel also offers a good helping of female-female romance, along with a return of the characters from the first novel.

Read The True Queen by Zen Cho

March

The Bird King by G. Willow Wilson

While many readers may know Wilson best from her fantastic run on Marvel’s Ms. Marvel, which introduced Kamala Khan, she’s also the author of the celebrated Alif the Unseen and, now, a Muslim-Iberian historical fantasy set in 1491.

The Bird King follows Fatima, the sultan’s last Circassian concubine, and Hassan, the royal mapmaker, as they travel through Spain in the company of a jinn. Hassan’s magical ability to draw maps of places he has never seen—and whose maps can change reality by how they are drawn—is viewed as sorcery by the Christian Spanish monarchy, putting both Hassan and Fatima, as his friend, at risk.

As Fatima, Hassan, and the jinn search for the safety of the island of The Bird King, the novel transforms from historical and grounded to a true fantasy about tolerance and friendship.

Read The Bird King by G. Willow Wilson

The Perfect Assassin by K. A. Doore

In a world of assassins and jaan, Amastan isn't sure that he wants to follow the family business into becoming a killer. But when members of his own family start being murdered, it's Amastan who is ordered to solve the murders, before his family is blamed for killing their own. This series starter launches "The Chronicles of Ghadid," and is likely to appeal to Assassin's Creed players as much as fantasy readers.

Read The Perfect Assassin by K.A. Doore

April

Descendent of the Crane by Joan He

Princess Hesina of Yan is uninterested in being a princess; she’d far rather have an ordinary life than be part of the imperial court. But all of those wishes are thrown away when her father is murdered. Not only must Hesina take up the mantle of queen, but she’s determined to discover who killed her father—before the murderer can turn on her as well.

read more: Best New Young Adult Books

This standalone YA #OwnVoices fantasy, which has the possibility of more novels to follow set in the same world, follows Hesina as she breaks the laws of her nation by enlisting a soothsayer and a criminal to help her determine who to trust, and who must be punished.

Read Descandant of the Crane by Joan He

Upon a Burning Throne by Ashok K. Banker

In promotional blurbs, Banker is called a pioneer of fantasy in his home country of India, and Upon a Burning Throne is based on the ancient classic, The Mahabharata, full of demigods and demons and battles for the throne. Although princes Adri and Shvate are royals, they must pass the Test of Fire if they want to inherit the throne.

read more: 9 Fantasy Books Set at Magical Boarding School

To make matters more complicated, a half-demon girl claims to have the right to take the test as well. When the girl is not allowed to claim any power after passing the Test, her demon father declares war on the Empire, threatening to tear the world apart. This #OwnVoices series is set for seven volumes, so get ready for an epic fantasy saga stretching over thousands of pages.

Read Upon a Burning Throne by Ashok K. Banker

The Tiger at Midnight by Swati Teerdhala

An assassin and a soldier get tangled in a civil war in this #ownvoices fantasy steeped in Indian history and Hindu mythology. Viper, an assassin fighting alongside the rebels, is how Esha hides her identity. No one knows that she, who lost so much in the royal coup, is the legendary assassin.

Kunal is a soldier, unquestioning in his orders to support the king, even while he longs for life outside the army. When Viper is on a mission to kill General Hotha, Kunal’s controlling uncle, the pair become involved in events on a grander scale, and no one is really sure who is directing all the pieces of this deadly game... This is listed as book one of the trilogy, so expect more cat and mouse games as the story progresses.

Read The Tiger at Midnight by Swati Teerdhala

May

The Candle and the Flame by Nafiza Azad

In this YA feminist fantasy, set along the Silk Road, the city of Noor is destroyed by Shayateen djinn; only Fatima and two other humans survived the attack. Now, a restored Noor is protected by Ifrit djinn, who represent order and reason.

But their protection does not remove all the danger: when one of the Ifrit is killed, Fatima is forever changed, and she finds herself drawn into the political intrigues of the maharajah and his sister—and onto the magical battlefield. Azad’s #OwnVoices tale features fiercely independent women, and a cosmopolitan Silk Road city striving to find harmony within its myriad cultures.

Read The Candle and the Flame by Nafiza Azad

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

It isn’t easy to be a legend. Zafira is the Hunter; by taking on a man’s role to feed her people, she can never reveal that she’s a girl, or everything she has done will be rejected. Nasir is the Prince of Death, a deadly assassin who punishes the enemies of his father, the king, despite his own tendency toward compassion.

Both Zafira and Nasir believe that an artifact can stop the incursion of the Arz, a cursed forest that expands by the day. Zafira, as the Hunter, sets out to find it; Nasir is ordered to retrieve it—and to kill the Hunter. Set in a fantastical Arabia, filled with cultures and beliefs that reflect the diversity of the real-world region, this #ownvoices YA series starter features lyrical prose and an enemies-to-lovers romance.

We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal

Nocturna by Maya Motayne

First in an #OwnVoices fantasy trilogy set in a Latinix-inspired world, Nocturna introduces Finn, a face shifter, who has been in and out of so many disguises over the years she’s practically forgotten what her own face looks like. Unfortunately, she crosses the wrong mobster, and she’s given a choice: succeed at a heist inside Castallan’s royal palace, or have her magic stripped away.

Prince Alfehr faces the dilemma of trying to live up to his dead brother’s role as heir to the throne; feeling as though he will forever fail at that role, Alfie would far rather dabble in forbidden magics on the hope of bringing his brother back. When the two of them accidentally unleash an ancient evil, they have to become a team to stop it from destroying the entire world.

Read Nocturna by Maya Motayne

June

The Last Tsar's Dragon by Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple

Set during the Russian revolution, this novella features dragons as tactical weapons, giving it the feel of a historical fiction that happens to have dragons involved in the plot. Yolen and Stemple explore the Romanov family history, as well as royal conspiracies and the revolutions of Jews and Bolsheviks during the October Revolution. For fans of this mother-son duo, it's a chance to delve into historical intrigue.

Unraveling by Karen Lord

Told in a contemporary setting, Lord's newest fantasy could easily be called a psychological thriller. Dr. Miranda Ecouvou has helped put a serial killer behind bars, but there's more to the world than she realized—and now Chance and the Trickster have enlisted her to look more deeply into the seven unusual murders. The plot and world are both labyrinthine, steeped in #ownvoices Caribbean storytelling.

July

Shatter the Sky by Rebecca Kim Wells

You might have heard something about "that angry feminist bisexual dragon YA fantasy novel" on the Internet, and that's a description that Wells has embraced wholeheartedly for her new series starter. In Shatter the Sky, Maren and Kaia expect to live a quiet life—but then the emperor's prophets steal Kaia away to join them, and it's up to Maren to rescue her girlfriend. She's determined to do it, too, even if the only way to rescue Kaia is to steal a dragon from the emperor and storm the fortress of his prophets on her own. While there's a lot in Shatter the Sky that fits into the traditions of western fantasy (including Tamora Pierce and Mercedes Lackey), but the worldbuilding includes #ownvoices Asian influences as well.

David Mogo, Godhunter  by Suyi Davies Okungbowa

This #ownvoices urban fantasy is set in Lagos, Nigeria, in an age in which thousands of gods fell to Earth during a war. David Mogo is a demigod and a freelance Godhunter. But he takes a bad gig when he agrees to catch a god for an Eko wizard—who turns around and decides to rule Lagos himself. The three sections of the novel intertwine, but each has a distinct arc, almost like separate novellas. But together, they show David's journey of self-discovery as he deals with his own feelings of abandonment and defines for himself what it means to be a demigod.

Jade War by Fonda Lee

The Green Bone Saga continues in this sequel to the World Fantasy Award-winning Jade City. The Kaul family battles for control of the capital city of Kekon, and over the jade that allows Green Bone warriors to maintain their supernatural powers. But the conflict within Kekon is only a hint at the conflicts beyond the island's borders. Other nations have become interested in the properties of Kekon's magical jade, and the Kaul family must decide whether to band together, or whether to make new and more dangerous alliances to rise to the top. This #ownvoices Asian-inspired fantasy surpasses the first in the series, delving more deeply into Lee's world.

July

The Rage of Dragons by Evan Winter

If a Xhosa-inspired revenge fantasy sounds up your alley, this #ownvoices debut may be exactly what you're looking for. Originally self-published in 2017, The Rage of Dragons got picked up by Orbit in a new edition for July 2019 publication. The story is set in a world of war, where those rare gifted—one in two thousand women can call the dragons, one in one hundred men can magically transform into a superhuman killer—wage battles, using the rest of their people as fodder. Ungifted Tau's greatest desire is to get injured early on so he can settle down and raise a family. But when everyone he cares about is slaughtered, his goals change: he will be come the greatest swordsman in order to get revenge on the three people who betrayed him.

The Ascent to Godhood by J. Y. Yang

The fourth in Yang's "Tensorate" series of novellas, The Ascent to Godhood explores how the Protector, now dead, came to power—and why her greatest enemy, Lady Han, mourns her death. Yang's series falls into a space that is almost serial fiction (we include it in our serial roundup), because the novellas are a shorter length, and the story and world grow with each new addition.

Fans of this #OwnVoices silkpunk saga are sure to enjoy seeing how it all began—and new readers might find this a good jumping in point for the series.

Read The Ascent to Godhood by J.Y. Yang

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

There’s something going on with stitching and magic in recent fantasy, but this #OwnVoices novel features both tailors and a girl-disguised-as-boy fantasy story with echoes of Mulan. Drawing inspiration from Chinese culture, Lim creates an Imperial Court where the competition over who will become the imperial tailor—and where Maia is at risk of being executed if anyone discovers that a girl is vying for the job.

Things get even worse when the court magician takes an interest in her, because he almost certainly knows the truth. Set with the task to sew three impossible gowns, one from the laughter of the sun, one from the moon’s tears, and the third from the blood of stars, Maia departs on a journey that will either save her family, or end her life.

Given that the book is marked as the first of a series, one can only hope that Maia will survive to stitch her way through future installments.

Read Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim

August

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Though this one isn't set wholly in a fantasy world, I couldn't miss out on including a Jazz Age underworld epic. Casiopea Tun dreams of life beyond her small town in Mexico, but those dreams didn't prepare her for freeing the Mayan god of death and following him into the Mayan underworld to reclaim his throne.

With parts of the novel set in Mexico City and the Yucatán and other pars set in the darkness of the Mayan land of the dead, this #OwnVoices novel is at the top of my TBR list.

Read Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Morena-Garcia

The Dragon Republic by R. F. Kuang

The sequel to Kuang's celebrated The Poppy War, the novel follows shaman and warrior Rin, now addicted to opium, traumatized by her own actions at the end of the Poppy War, and hiding from her god.

In order to get revenge on the Empress, Rin allies with the Dragon Warlord to take over her home country—but Rin learns that her new ally's motivations may not be for the good of the nation after all. Kuang uses some real-world events from twentieth century China as inspiration for an #OwnVoices fantasy full of magic and monsters.

Read The Dragon Republic by R.F. Kuang

September

The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas

If you can't wait for the 2020 live action Mulan, starring Liu Yifei, keep an eye out for this YA wuxia retelling by Chinese-American author Sherry Thomas. A cover reveal posted at Hypable also offered an excerpt packed full of martial arts action. Catching arrows? This #OwnVoices Mulan is definitely going to be our action hero.

Read The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas

Kingdom of Souls by Rena Barron

Arrah doesn't have the knack for her witchdoctor family's magic. But when the Kingdom's children start to disappear, she's not going to let the mystery go unsolved. But this is no simple crime spree: the Demon King is waking, and Arrah may be the only one to stop him—if she's willing to sell years of her life to gain the magic it will take to defeat him. This #ownvoices fantasy sets witchdoctors and demons and an over-ambitious mother in the path of a heroine who's willing to tackle it all to save the world.

A Hero Born by Jin Yong

It might be a stretch to consider this classic Chinese epic truly a fantasy novel, but if you love a good kung fu epic, this is absolutely a thing you need on your list. Stretching from the Song Empire to the rule of Genghis Khan, the novel follows Guo Jing, a Song patriot who joined Genghis Khan. But a greater destiny awaits him, and he must learn from the Seven Heroes of the South in order to take up the mantle of his fate.

Steel Crow Saga by Paul Krueger

Krueger explores the role of colonization in this #ownvoices Asian-inspired fantasy epic. The nation of Tomoda has, until recently, been a colonial power. The Sanbunas have recently won a war that freed them from Tomoda. It means that Jimuro, heir to Tomoda's throne, should despise Tala, one of the Sabuna soldiers escorting him back to him to his home nation. But the two of them are thrown together, along with a detective-and-Shang-princess-in-disguise, Xiulan, and her thief partner, Lee. The four of them team together to defeat a killer using more powerful magic than the world has ever seen—and, along the way, forge friendships that could change the progression of their entire world.

October

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco

Climate change can be a threat even in a fantasy world, and here, a goddess has sent the world spinning into a climate shift that causes rifts between nations. Half of the world is cloaked in night, and the other half burns with daylight. The two goddesses who rule the world each have a daughter, and both have kept their secrets about which twin goddess betrayed their world.

These young goddesses are called back to the site of where it all happened... and determined to undo the damage their mothers have caused. The daytime desert setting features sandworms and sand dolphins (which is enough to put it on my TBR list right there), and the author has noted her inspiration from both Mad Max and Avatar: The Last Airbender. The worldbuilding itself is less referential to real-world mythologies, and some advance reviewers are saying it's like nothing they've ever read before. We can't help but consider that a good thing.

A River of Royal Blood by Amanda Joy

Eva and her sister Isa must face each other in mortal combat to decide who takes the throne, because in Myre, only the strongest is fit to be the queen. Eva has magick of both marrow and bone, a rare power, but it means that her sister may not be the only one who wants her dead.

Eva must rely on a fey instructor and a khimaer prince to teach her how to wield her own magick before it's too late. But Eva's biggest challenge may be facing the sister she still loves and fighting her to the death, because only one of them can survive. Based on a North African setting, this debut fantasy doesn't shy away from the dark and bloody, whether in magick or politics.

November

The Deep by Rivers Solomon

Inspired by the song of the same title, written by Hamilton original cast member Daveed Diggs and his fellow hip-hop artists William Huston and Jonathan Snipes, Solomon’s novel takes place under the water, where generations of African slave women live now-idyllic lives, their pasts forgotten.

Only Yetu, the people’s historian, remembers the truth of their past. But the weight of the memories is destroying her, so Yetu tries to flee to the surface—only to gain the understanding that if her people are to survive, they must begin to remember for themselves. Solomon, author of the science fiction novel An Unkindness of Ghosts as well as a writer on Serial Box serial The Vela, shows their versatility with this switch into this #OwnVoices fantasy.

Read The Deep by Rivers Solomon

The Impossible Contract by K.A. Doore

Doore's Chronicles of Ghadid continue as Thana, daughter of the Serpent, takes up her first assassination contract to prove her worth. Her target, Heru, is a dangerous sorcerer, and Thana isn't the only one who wants him dead. When a rival sends an undead horde to attach Heru and Thana both, Thana has no choice but to follow her target into the empire that threatens her own nation. Following a different main character from the first book in the series, The Perfect Assassin, the novel still relies on the world building of the first in this Arabian-flavored setting, so pick up book one before this one hits the shelves.

Realm of Ash by Tasha Suri

Last year's Empire of Sand told the story of Mehr, daughter of an imperial governor and a mother who is one of the outcast and oppressed Amrithi people, descendants of desert spirits. Because Mehr can work desert magic, the deathless Emperor and his advisers take her captive, force her to marry, and try to break her spirit. But when Mehr discovers their plot for her magic, she stands against the tide. In Realm of Ash, Mehr's younger sister Arwa is now an adult, widowed in a massacre she only survived due to her Amrithi heritage. To try to free the Empire from a curse, she forms an allegiance with the disgraced prince, and they travel to the Realm of Ash, seeking to to find answers in the ghostly memories of their ancestors. This #ownvoices sequel returns to the South Asian inspired desert lands of the Ambhan Empire, giving readers new aspects of its world to explore.

Queen of the Conquered by Kacen Callendar

Set in a Carribean-inspired fantasy world, this #OwnVoices novel follows Sigourney Rose, last heir to a murdered noble family. Her people have been enslaved and massacred by colonizers for generations, and Sigourney, who has the power to control minds, is ready to take her revenge. But as she manipulates herself into the royal island and among the colonizers, she realizes a sinister magic is killing the ruling families, and she herself may be a target.

Callender’s excellent middle-grade novel, Hurricane Child, had an understated sense of fantasy and a beautifully grounded depiction of the islands, family, and same-sex budding romance. While I expect the fantasy aspects in Queen of the Conquered to be much stronger, I hope that we’ll see more of those earlier strengths.

Read Queen of the Conquered by Kheryn Callender

December

Children of Virtue and Vengeance by Tomi Adeyemi

If you're like us here at Den of Geek, you've already taken the quiz to find out your Maji clan and you've put the date for this release, the sequel to last year's Children of Blood and Bone, on your calendar in big red pen. We're ready to get back into the world of the Orisha and find out what happens next with Zélie and Amari now that they've brought magic back into the world.

Step one is securing Amari's throne—so that Orisha's maji clans can be safe from persecution. Can't wait until December? You've got time to read Adeyemi's first #ownvoices African-centered fantasy over again!

In the Works

Choice of Games, publisher of interactive, multiple-choice novels, has two forthcoming non-western fantasy apps in production. (Disclosure: I also have multiple-choice novels published by Choice of Games, but I’m not involved in either of these projects!)

Keep an eye out for #OwnVoices Destined for Greatness, by Yasmine Fahmy, in which the reader directs the actions of a main character who keeps company with a djinn, flies magical carpets, and has to save the city of Ghariba from a nefarious dragon; and Tale of Two Cranes by Michelle and Stepanie Balaban, in which the main character helps shape the course of a battle between two warring nobles (based on the historical civil war between the Han and Qin dynasties) in an ancient China filled with magic.

What non-western fantasies are you most looking forward to this year? What did we miss? Let us know—we’ll keep updating this piece as we find them!

Alana Joli Abbott writes about books for Den of Geek. Read more of her work here.

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The Lists

Culture

Alana Joli Abbott

Oct 10, 2019

Fantasy Books

from Books https://ift.tt/2M1RxM4

[thehivemindwrites]

A  Series of Disconnected Thoughts, Cast into the Void in No Particular Order

1. I’ve been finding myself thinking more and more about Kill Six Billion Demons recently. Not just because it’s absolutely gorgeous artwork and Moebius-meets-prog-metal stylings are extremely my shit (KSBD is responsible for adding Gojira to my rotation of workout music, and that alone has me in its debt), but because I can really appreciate a main character who is a walking disaster coming to some kind of enlightenment through a combination of getting her ass handed to her repeatedly, making questionable decisions, and basically just deciding to struggle forwards because I don’t know, what the fuck else is there to do? It’s hardly original (see: basically any shounen about The Power of Friendship and Not Giving Up) but damn if the presentation of it in this particular case isn’t particularly delightful. Plus it gave us the image of a giant hulking demon wearing a jacket that says KILL BOSS and that’s rad.The creator of KSBD is also co-creator, as it happens, of the newly released Lancer TTRPG, which I backed on Kickstarter and will, one day, get a rad fucking hardcover copy of (but for now I’m reading through the pdf and swearing oaths that one day I will play it). Anyway, as someone who also got where he is through a series of questionable decisions and getting his ass handed to him by life in general (oh, and an enormous amount of luck), I can relate. Plus the phrase “Reach heaven through violence,” while kind of terrible on the surface, feels good to shout at yourself while you’re off for a run. 

2. Part of this whole exercise thing - a side-effect of it, if you wanna call it that - is that generally I feel better about myself like in general. I’ve mentioned that before. What it doesn’t do, of course, is magically mean that I’m now 100% good and not still dogged by a persistent sense of self-loathing that I’ve just had to accept will never really go away. Like for example: I’ve lost 35 kg since starting this whole gym thing, except you might remember the goal was 40. I still haven’t hit that goal, and frankly I’ve spent the last like three months bouncing around the same like, 3 kg zone because I’ve been traveling a lot and that basically fucks up my workout and eating routine. It’s frustrating, and it sure does let the part of me that knows deep down that I’m a fat fucker and always will be no matter what I do run wild from time to time. Which is, I’m coming to understand, just gonna always be there. This stuff doesn’t go away! Ever! 

Which doesn’t mean it’s right, even a little. You tune it out and throw yourself into battle with it over and over again. You get bloodied and broken and claw back and then you get bloodied and broken some more. Insert that gif from Princess Bride of Westly saying LIFE IS PAIN, HIGHNESS here. Thing is, there’s something about the struggle that’s nice. I am not sure how motivated I’d be to do anything if part of it wasn’t motivated by the desire to prove my dumb brain wrong about, uh, me. If I wasn’t fighting the various little demons that plague me every so often, I doubt I’d be so well-adjusted. I certainly wouldn’t be mentally healthy. None of this makes sense as I read it back, of course - it sounds like I’m saying “boy it’s nice to be miserable,” which isn’t true. Being miserable sucks shit! I don’t recommend it! But it is nice to see misery coming and punch it in the face (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes I think the thing that makes me go to the gym and work so hard (this sounds like I’m bragging, but I can assure you I’m not - “work so hard” means “not collapse and fall off the elliptical after five minutes because oh god I don’t want to be here”) is out of some desire for self-annihilation through pushing myself past my physical limits. Reach heaven through violence (see, I told you it sounded cool).

3. The world has gotten really fucking bad for a lot of people, and I don’t know that it will get better for them any time soon. In fact, given the latest talk from the ol’ UN Climate Change report, it’s gonna get even worse. I would very much prefer that were not the case! It’s motivation enough to get out and vote and shit, at least for me - and as someone who is, you know, ridiculously privileged, that’s the absolute least I can do. Which is why I try to do more, mostly involving donating money to causes that seem like they’re able to cause the sort of trouble that needs to be caused. Or just use expertise to protect the people I don’t know how to protect, because I’m a lot of things, and one of them happens to be smart enough to know that I don’t know shit. So I make sure people that do know shit have the money they need. Pretty straightforward, I think. 

The other thing I try to do, because giving money isn’t really something I think about much at all (I’m stupidly fucking fortunate to have a job that pays well, remember), is occasionally go out and actually be present at protests and the like - there are a lot of climate protests and they’re all a good time. Occasionally it’s worth overcoming one’s intense social anxiety to do so. Lord knows it’s significantly less of a risk for me to be out shouting at cops than most. 

4. She-Ra might be one of the best shows out there. There’s something nice about a show that both does and does not present a simple world. Yes, the Horde is bad. Like, objectively bad! They do a lot of looting and subjugating and are generally just deeply not chill people.On the other hand, the people who make up the Horde are still people, and I have a lot of time for a show that can manage to humanize its Big Bad Villain whilst still making it very clear they are  still, you know, not good. It’s messy, and complicated, and sad, because sometimes you have to fight people you used to be friends with! Sometimes you have to make the call that hey, we can’t be friends anymore, because I can’t support the things you’re doing anymore. I’ve made that call before - I bet everyone has, at some point (if you haven’t, I’m sure you’ll have to eventually). Fortunately for me, it’s never been that difficult of a choice, if only because the people I had to go against weren’t people I’d known for very long. 

Anyway, that’s part of it - you gotta just cut people out sometimes. There’s more to it though, because the other thing the show believes is that everyone - even the real shitty people - can change. It doesn��t mean everything’s forgiven, and it doesn’t erase all the bad shit, but they can still change. It’s worth changing, even if it isn’t a cure-all. 

So yeah, I like She-Ra a lot. It’s also just well-written, and funny, and it’s a real good time to see a bunch of diverse characters running around having adventures and being fuckin’ rad. Plus, they’ve shown an incredible willingness to completely change the stakes from season to season - the end of season four in particular is  the equivalent of detonating all the things you thought were important. It pulls a bait and switch so ruthless that I might have applauded if I wasn’t so self-conscious about making noise that my neighbors might hear. The combination of season 3 and 4 was a masterclass on raising the stakes and then explaining that actually, you were playing for stakes even higher than you could’ve thought possible. Oh, and the people you thought you could trust were just using you, and hey, what if we got rid of the thing that you’ve more or less defined yourself by for the entire show? Good luck in season five, motherfucker! I’m a fan, is what I’m saying.

6. Work on Vanquisher 2103 continues apace. I mentioned this before, but we’re doing a once-a-month schedule while the holidays and work beat my ass into the ground, and as it turns out I really enjoy taking a full month to write a chapter. It’s a comically slow pace, but it’s working for me and hopefully the fact that the chapters have tended to be a little longer (and allowed me to expand on ideas a little more, and do a little more research here and there) makes it worth the longer wait. I’d like this thing to be good! There’s a part of my brain, again, that will always insist that nobody reads this and it’s bad and I’m fucking up, constantly - that point, at least, is probably accurate. I am writing characters who in theory have life experiences that are very much Not Mine, which involves a lot of reading things from people who would know better than I do. It’s nerve-wracking, and the only thing I am bone-deep certain of is that I’ll fuck up and hopefully y’all will forgive me for fucking up when that happens. I’ll keep reading and refining and eventually maybe it’ll be okay. Hopefully, anyway.

7. I went to Ireland and guys, Ireland is bullshit. I am offended by its gorgeous cliff-sides and open grasslands and heart-rending beauty. The immense friendliness of the people I met and the fact that you can’t sit in a pub without hearing some dude play a jaunty reel on a tin whistle or accordion or something is a personal insult. I was Arthur Dent angrily demanding to know why this bloody fish is so good the whole time.

I cultivated an immense drinking habit while there. I was also approached by a random German tourist who somehow clocked that I could speak German and we shouted about socialism for an hour auf Deutsch. I met some woman from Louisiana and we ended up having drinks a couple nights in a row to talk about traveling in general and Germany in particular, because her ex-husband is German. There were some Swedish retirees who were both very pleased by their country’s social safety net and also depressingly sour about the fact that refugees got cheap dental care - we might have had some harsh words exchanged before more drinks helped smooth over our frank discussion of differing viewpoints. I had to explain American health care to some people from the UK who were surprisingly gung-ho about the idea of privatized medicine until they talked to me (one of them talked about how the UK used to be an Empire and could be again in such a way that made me want to throw things. We did not talk for very long because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle it). These were strangers that I willingly engaged, because I was having an adventure, and I guarantee none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been going to the gym and committed to the idea of proving the voice in my head that tells me I’m an awkward mess that nobody would ever want to talk to in their life wrong (also, let’s be honest, if I hadn’t had several pints of cider at the time). 

By the end of the trip if I heard one more pub singer’s version of Whisky in the Jar though, that I was gonna produce my pistol and fucking shoot myself in the head.

Go to Ireland if you can. If you live there, fuck you how dare you live somewhere that rad.

8. I didn’t have an eighth thing but I’m committed to this “each thing is numbered” bit which means that even the end of this thing has to follow the trope. This is the end of the post where I say “okay bye I’ll be back the next time I get the urge to throw a bunch of highly unpolished ideas out.” 

[the-b00k-wyrm]

The Drunk

Depending on who you talk to, I was either cursed or blessed from birth. I was born to a family of nobles whose land was on the border of the kingdom. I am was the third son born to the house, so the chances of me inheriting my father's title where slim to start with, and they got slimmer when my father noticed my red eyes shortly after I was born. He thought them a sign I was cursed to bring ruin to our family and wanted to abandon me somewhere in the world, luckily for me, my mother was as stubborn as she was a fool for believing my eyes where a blessing, she thought my eyes meant the gods had blessed me with a great future. In the end she won and I grew up in a house where only one person wanted me, with a desire to prove that I was worth keeping around. I aimed for the highest honor I could achieve, a member of the King and Queens Royal Knights. I trained day in and day out to achieve my goal, I earned any and all achievements I could, and at the age of twenty I became the youngest member of the Royal Knights in history. For the first time in my life, my father was proud of me, and I was happy my mother didn't let him have me killed. I thought that the Royal Knights was an honorable organization, one that upheld the justice of the kingdom and protected the royal family. I was wrong. What I entered was a nest of corruption and deceit, not a single member of the eleven other Knights was honorable. They openly received bribes, plotted against one another, and openly abused their power. As members of the Royal Knights we where given a personal army, and the royal family took our advice to heart, so a with a single whisper the royals could be persuaded into any action a Knight wanted. I was determined to be better then them, to restore the honor of the organization. The other Knights where not a fan of that notion and began having the royals send me on suicide missions, things like leading my army against hordes of orcs, colonies of bandits, and any rare and powerful beast they could find. When me and my army proved to well trained and strong for that to work, they chose to destroy my reputation. The Royal family was known for having an iron fist, crushing any hint of rebellion with overwhelming force, a group of men in a village are plotting rebellion, send and army and brutally execute them, a merchant is intentionally doing trade with enemies of the state, send an army and perform a brutal execution. What my fellow Royal Knights had the royals start ordering me to do showed how twisted the knights truly were. They tried dispatching me to wipe out entire villages, simply because one voice of descent arose from the masses. I would arrive at the village, execute the accused and force the villagers to abandon their homes, then burn the village to the ground. I persisted in the Knights, begging the royals to see what the other Knights were doing, but they wouldn't listen, wouldn't believe that their trusted advisers would lead them astray, believed that I was trying to sow discourse. One fateful day I arrived at a village where someone was voicing issue with the royals, more specifically with what I was doing. I always did this alone, I would not allow my men to have their names tarnished by these acts because I was unwilling to give up my morals. I dragged the accused into the center of town, and prepared the execution. As I was reading his "crimes", a rock bounced off of my armor, I looked out and saw a child standing near the front, face covered in tears, screaming at me how his father did not do what I said he did, he was probably right, but I kept reading out my orders. My options were either kill the father, or someone else would come and kill everyone. As I was finishing up, another rock bounced off my armor, then another this time a little harder, then more and more, soon the entire village was pelting my with anything they could. This was a first for me, but still I endured. I drew my scimitar, and brought it down on the man's neck, quickly severing his head from his body. I went to cut off his limbs when something knocked my helmet off of my head. I looked up startled and the man who had struck me leapt back in fear, "His eyes... They're red. He's been cursed by the innocent blood he has spilled!" Up until this point, no one but my parents and their house had known about my eyes. I had kept my helmet on as much as I could, and my head down when I couldn't, perceptively to avoid people jumping to the conclusion this man had. I picked up my helmet as all of the men in the village armed themselves. "Let me finish my task, and nothing that happened here today will be reported." I spoke out loudly as I kept a wary eye on the small mass of men in front of me. "Die demon!" One of the men shouted as they charged towards me. I dropped my helmet and pulled out my war-hammer as I met their charge. My scimitar flashed out and slashed holes in necks and bellies, severing limbs and deflecting crude weapons. My war-hammer crushed into skulls, broke through hoes and pitchforks, and demolished limbs and chests. As good as I was, I was greatly outnumbered and began taking wounds. Even after a blade of some sort swept across my face, taking my left eye from me, I fought on. After what felt like hours of combat, I stood alone among a pile of bleeding corpse, my armor dented, and broken. My body was bleeding and exhausted. I limped my way away from the carnage, insults and curses chasing after me. I collapsed about a short way from my army, and woke up in the capital. As soon as I was able to walk I stormed into the throne room. "I'm done!" I screamed at the crowd of shocked nobles and royals, my own father and brother sitting among them. "I am done risking my life, risking the life of my men, and killing innocent people just because you blind idiots can't accept that the assholes who whisper in your ears don’t give a fuck about the kingdom or the people. You are spineless, you are weak, and you do not deserve my men guarding you!" I threw the badge symbolizing my status at the feet of the royals and left. As I was leaving I could hear the nobles murmuring, a few in relief that I was leaving, but most about the color of my one remaining eye. I caught a glimpse of my father and brother as I stormed out, my brother was mortified at what I had done, but my father... My father almost looked proud. I later blamed my blood loss for that hallucination. I left the capital, informed my men what had happened ( later found out they all resigned ), and migrated from village to village, constantly in pain, not from my wounds but from my dreams. Every night I would be clawed at by the people I had slain. Every night they would try to pull me down into Hell. I discovered that they couldn't attack me if I wasn't asleep, and so I started drinking, at first to keep me awake, and then after the first time I passed out drunk... To keep the dreams away. So there, that’s why the great Ivar Bersk drinks, now fuck off and let me drink in peace.

[littleredroseonthevalley]

St. Augustine

Or, The Realization of Truth

Summary: After Mr Sinclaire storms off his own party, Lady Susan comes to find him at the yard.

Rating: T -  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 1474

Notes: I reiterate I am not a sociopath who can only take pleasure on sex and the suffering of my fellow men. To prove it, have some fluffy fluff.

“Why, then, does truth generate hatred, and why does thy servant who preaches the truth come to be an enemy to them who also love the happy life, which is nothing else than joy in the truth—unless it be that truth is loved in such a way that those who love something else besides her wish that to be the truth which they do love. Since they are unwilling to be deceived, they are unwilling to be convinced that they have been deceived. Therefore, they hate the truth for the sake of whatever it is that they love in place of the truth. They love truth when she shines on them; and hate her when she rebukes them.”

~ Confessions, Book 10, Chapter 23

Ernest felt like screaming, shouting until his voice was hoarse, but he contained himself on the grounds he had humiliated himself enough tonight. No need to feed the likes of Theresa Sutton with more babble to spread through the city.

God knows she had enough already.

He breathed heavily and tried to loosen his tie, in hopes that it would help the flow of air through his throat.

If the simple fact of upholding this travesty of a party while he would rather be doing just about literally anything else, including touring an apiary farm covered head to toe in honey, was not irritating enough, that… that… thing who the Fates had the sick pleasure of making a Duke had the damned idea to crash it.

What was the sick obsession of that man with him? It was going on years, even before the death of his wife, the Duke’s tendency to trail behind him, like a demon who could not be exorcised. The man leaving him alone might not make Ernest hate Tristan any less, but it would make the exercise less taxactive.

Perhaps if he had not came without an invitation, the esquire might have contained his temper, he might have thrown a respectable, composed, adjusted act for the night. Yes, the coup de grace had been a courtesy of Miss Sutton, whom, be stated, he also had no intention of inviting, but the Duke chirped at his patience enough before.

Though, to be fair, he had placed great expectations on tonight. He set himself for disappointment. He had hoped he could prove, to his peers, to himself, to her, that he was capable of doing this, being a standing member of polite society, to live up to the training he received as a boy.

He wanted to reinforce that first image Lady Susan had of him when they first met, on the road to Grover. Of the staunch nobleman to her county peasant. Out of spite, yes, all their encounters were in some way humiliating to him, but also because, in his head, this was the kind of man she desired and respected.

Now, would be better, he considers, to be taken as a bumbling, wimp of a man or as someone who threw tantrums and conniptions left and right? Those seemed to be his options at the moment, perhaps he ought to cut his losses and invest in one of those personas.

The season had already started, and people would soon notice Lady Susan. Not only a dashing, young, ludicrously wealthy heiress, she was also highly intelligent, sharp and the very envy of Helen of Troy. She was a wild bird, he could not cage her, he did not want it, but he could convince her to stay of free will.

He could, too, curtail at all chances her contacts with possible competitors. Ernest had to hand it to himself. Sitting her between Mr Marlcaster and Mr Chambers was resourceful of him. Marlcaster was an engaged idiot, and while the esquire held appreciation for Mr Chambers, he was hardly blind to where his preferences laid.

Hence the also very convenient invitation to Mr Konevi, the Sephardi gentleman who seemed to be quite taken with Chambers.

He could not help but think it was going all so well until he lost his nerve and fled to the gardens. God, he was pathetic.

If it was not enough, he also left Lady Susan alone with the leering Duke.

That thought brought him another wave of anxiety. Lady Susan was inside his house, surrounded by a horde of useless ninnies and a rapist disguised as a peer of the realm.

He jumps to his feet and turns to race inside once again, but as he looks towards the house once more, there stood the very same woman he intended to protect, her eyes shining from the lights of his porch.

“I never understood why we hold the social season so late in the spring. I would much rather to face the heat at the fields, where it is windy, or to wash my feet on the river, than in the stuffiness of London.” Susan says, leisurely fanning herself. “That is to say, I know in the times of old, the landowners were needed at their estates during sowing and harvest, but the idea the likes of the Duke of Karlington to labour in any way makes me laugh.”

Ernest looks deep into her eyes and tries not to disclose the dejection he felt on the corners of his heart in saying, “Is your party not to your satisfaction, Lady Susan?”

“On the contrary, Mr Sinclaire, send my regards to your cook. I am yet to find such a tasteful roasted meat.” She closes her fan and walks over to the shade of the tree, where he currently stood. “Perhaps it was the herbs. You would not know what they use, would you?”

“I do not take much attention to those details, Lady Susan, I apologize.” The esquire punctuates his apology with a nod.

She hummed, unaffected. “Of course, I did not think you would. Foolish of me to ask. Tell me, Mr Sinclaire, what do you like to eat?”

The blond man scoffed. “From our earlier exchanges, Lady Susan, I was led to believe you detested to ‘beat around the bush’, so to speak.”

Susan smiles, amused. “Indeed, I do not favour this kind of behaviour, but I am nothing if not adaptable. I did not think you would appreciate if I came running and fretted over your hysteria.”

He frowned. “I do not have hysteria, Lady Susan.”

She chuckled, sitting on a bench he had installed years prior for reading on days of intense heat. “What would you call it then? Or would you rather me believe your urgent errands consist on circling around a tree and mumble to yourself?”

The brunette tapped the seat next to her, inviting him to join her. He complies with her request, but the slight pout does not subdue.

“You see, Mr Sinclaire, only because I have been taking under my responsibility your regular releases for the past few months, does not mean I cannot be of help in other areas of your life.” She places her hands on his, and he cannot contain a shy smile to spread on his face.

“I am a very capable and, dare I say, forward woman.” The brunette continues. “I understand your wife’s death might be a delicate subject for you, especially if Miss Sutton’s word is to be taken at face value, and I also understand the Duke’s presence is particularly unpleasant for you. I will not press you into details.

“Know that, however, I am here if and when you want to talk about it. I said it before and I will say it again, I do care for your well-being, and it stands regardless of both of our desires to wed at the season’s closing.”

She caresses the sides of his face. “Much as I appreciate your callings for our… nightly activities, I would not mind to heed your way for other business.”

Ernest smiles widely at her, his eyes glinting. “I am so very sorry, Lady Susan. I am a fool.”

She chuckles. “What for, Mr Sinclaire?”

“I once thought you were beneath me, I though you to be some bold coquette who was trying to bite more she could chew.” He breaks eye contact, ashamed of himself. “The truth is you are an extraordinaire woman. I came here to brood like a petulant child, and you had the grace to come and get me, to console me, and to offer more consideration I can possibly make myself worth.”

Lady Susan smiled at the man, and boldly kisses his cheek. “It serves you not to doubt me again. Shall we return to the party?”

Ernest stood tall and offered the woman his hand. “It would be my greatest pleasure, milady.”

Susan took his hand and they walked into the house. For the remainder of the night, her hand did not leave his own, and a smile was never seen away from his features.

Taglist: @catlady0911; @choicesyouplayandmore; @cocomaxley; @llholloway; @mrsernestsinclaire; @shelivesinthewoods; @tornbetween2loves

[authorellenmint]

Romancing Ser Barris

I wrote cutscenes as they would appear in-game were Barris a potential love interest. For all the Barris fans out there. More coming with every reblog.

First Flirt:

Positioned before the stables are a gaggle of children, each of them ranging in age from nearly 13 to a tender 4. The Inquisitor is drawn to the kids all saluting a fist to their tiny chests in honor of the man standing with back straight, head high before them.

"What do we do if we spot a dragon in the sky?" Barris asks.

"Wing the bell," a voice pipes out from inside a too large templar helmet.

"And then..." the man leading them continues.

"We run to the stone kitchens to take up our place, Ser!" a taller boy calls, his eyes never drifting from Barris'.

Curiosity fully piqued, the Inquisitor steps into the range of the templar. "Ser Barris?" she asks softly, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Ah, Inquisitor," he full on blushes.

"What's going on here?"

"We were...that is to say, I was attempting to teach the children preventative measures should Corypheus attempt to attack Skyhold."

The Inquisitor pulls even closer to Ser Barris, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Is that wise? Aren't you afraid of giving them nightmares?"

"Personally, ma'am, er...Ser." Barris wrings his hands over the hilt at his side, his eyes closed tight in contemplation. "I know what it feels to be too young and helpless in the face of an oncoming horde of darkspawn. The fear of not knowing what to do, not having a plan to take control of the situation induces far more nightmares than knowing evil exists."

"I had no idea," the Inquisitor gasps, a hand resting upon the emblem on his chest as if to soothe away the pain of the Blight.

"Preparing the children, the ones who survived Haven, forming a plan for them should the worst arise, I thought it to be..." He pauses in his personal thoughts, his striking green eyes darting to the woman before him. "That is, if it's all right with you, Inquisitor?"

She couldn't stop the smile rising up her cheeks, the Inquisitor bobbing her head. "Yes, it's...a good idea."

"Ser Bawwis," the child trapped inside of the templar helmet mewls. With a chuckle, Ser Barris drops to a knee and helps to excise the head caught inside, revealing a girl with braids scattering to her shoulders. Giggling, the girl places a quick kiss to the man's cheek, bringing an even brighter flush to his glowing skin.

With a hand curled over her chest right above her heart, the Inquisitor muses, "So adorable."

Barris rises to his feet, the helmet safely tucked into the crook of his arm. "They are rather cute," he says while watching the kids fall back into line.

"Yes, the children are as well," the Inquisitor smiles slyly.

"Ah," Ser Barris gasps, his sight dropping to the ground while the flush grows beyond capacity. The Inquisitor fears she might have overstepped her bounds, when those green eyes rise from under his brow to stare directly into hers.

Sliding back, her cheeks starting to burn, the Inquisitor says, "I shall leave you to it then, Ser Barris."

Romancing Ser Barris 2

Starting a Romance:

Cracks of broken wood and grunts are the only sounds to fill the air as the Inquisitor opens a door. She watches Ser Barris pry a rotted board off with his bare hands. When he turns to hurl it onto the pile he catches sight of her and smiles.

“Inquisitor. I did not hear you enter.”

“People rarely seem to expect to find me around Skyhold. Probably all of those random but necessary trips to Crestwood, or the Hissing Wastes, or the Emerald Graves, or all of southern Thedas really,” she laughs while stepping in closer.

“Quite,” Barris blushes. “I only returned the day before myself from Val Royeaux.”

Sliding up beside the tattered remains of whatever once stood in this ramshackle tower, the Inquisitor graces her fingers upon the next board to be removed. “We seem to keep missing each other.”

“I,” Barris smiles reflexively, his head bent in thought as if that might hide the flush, “I suppose we do.”

With all her strength, the Inquisitor yanks the board off, rusty nails spraying through the air for her effort. As the grunt of exertion fades from the stone’s echo, Barris takes the rotten wood from her. “You don’t need to, I was only trying to help prep the tower for the other templars…”

His chin drifts down to his chest, nearly banging against the armor that never leaves him. After twisting the board in his hands, Barris sighs, “This is beneath someone of your standing.”

She snorts, “How so? Seems all I do is run around solving everyone’s little problems.”

“But you’re a gift from Andraste Herself. You’re wise, and kind, with a beauty more striking than any sunset the Maker deemed possible.” His lavishing lips pause in their compliments barely a stone’s throw from her cheeks. Realizing what he said, Barris tries to shrink back, his entire face beet red. “Inquisitor.”

In a soft voice, she says, “I think you can call me by my name.”

“That would be disrespectful.”

Her fingers cup Barris’ warm cheek, practically on fire now, and she tugs his stuttering lips towards her. “Is this disrespectful?” her mouth whispers before plunging onto his. Barris’ pillowy lips mold to hers, his hands swooping around her waist as she cradles his chiseled cheeks in her palms. Heat stronger than any rage demon attack builds inside, her tongue finding safety inside of the templar’s mouth.

“Wait,” Barris turns his head to the side, breaking the kiss, but his hands remain upon her hips. “This isn’t right. Not, not in such a fashion. I should be, a woman of your grace must be courted.”

She blinks in surprise, “Courted? Why? I’m not sure what that even entails with a Ferelden/Human.”

“You deserve no less, my Lady,” Barris solemnly proclaims.

“Very well,” she steps back, accepting she can’t stop him and growing slightly curious.

Barris’ hands pool to the side, his eyes sweeping over the work before him. “I will need some time to prepare. Perhaps after I return from my next mission, and you are in Skyhold as well?”

The Inquisitor bows her head, unable to stop the smile at how serious he’s taking it. “I wonder, while in the midst of this courtship ritual, am I not allowed to kiss you?”

He smiles brightly, swooping his trusting arms around her body. “I believe we can make a few exceptions,” Barris whispers before tasting her lips once more.

Romancing Ser Barris 3:

The Gift:

The Inquisitor is so busy at the desk, she doesn’t realize someone’s entered her room until the armor glints from a sunbeam. Squinting, a hand shielding her eyes, the frown erupts into a great smile as she spies Barris standing awkwardly in the middle of her floor.

“My Lady,” he begins, hands hidden behind himself.

“You’re back,” she cries, leaping to her feet and rushing to his side. Where normally there’d be a hug, Barris steps back a moment, causing the Inquisitor to frown in confusion.

A huge breath fills his lungs, his striking green eyes shut as he seems to be girding himself. “Inquisitor,” Barris begins, causing her to fold her arms in consternation. When a smile toys with his lips, he whispers, “My love. I humbly ask that you…”

From behind his back swings a perfectly round shield the color of a lake by fall’s almost wintery morn. Into her hands he places it while finishing, “accept my gift of courtship.”

“Of course,” she says automatically, her pinkie skirting along an etched vine that trails the edge of the metal. “What is it?”

Barris’ hand soothes over the middle of the shield, the metal fogging from the warmth of his body. “It is tradition in Ferelden, when a man wishes to proclaim to the village his intentions in another, he will forge for her a shield.”

“You made this?” she gasped, turning over the shield polished more smoother than a river rock.

“It took me some time to find enough everite to forge it, but I…” he gulps, his eyes meeting with hers, “I consider you worth the effort.”

With a smile, she fits the shield on her arm, impressed by the great weight. “Why a shield?”

“In the old days, before the Imperium invasion, when the man was pressed to defend his lands from invaders, his woman would be forever at his side using his gift to protect the family. Their love is said to be only as strong as the shield on the wife’s arm.”

“A beautiful thought. Do the markings mean anything?” she circles around another small vine section. While most of the shield is pure, about 10% of the edge is made up of the decorations.

“Yes,” he whispers, a nail trailing one of the vine etchings, “whenever a man thinks of his love too far from his arms, he will carve one.”

She gasps. There are a good hundred or so vines already, and he could not have had it long on his person.

Barris’ fingers slip in behind hers, the pair of them holding the shield together. The allure of his body pressing tighter to her back beckons to the Inquisitor. Leaning against him, she whispers, “I’m not exactly a shield person/This is far too lovely to use upon a Venatori.”

He smiles sweetly, his plush lips cupping near her cheek, “You could always store it upon the mantle.”

“I adore it,” she turns, greedy for the first kiss in a month of work. “It’s almost as breathtaking as you.”

Barris happily gives her another two kisses, each pulsing hotter with every return. “Then you accept my gift?”

“I already said yes.”

“Without knowing what it was. What it means…”

Together, they fold their hands, heads bent to watch how easily the fingers intertwined. “I understand,” she says, “what you’re offering. What you’re gifting me. What you’re asking. And I want nothing more than to be your shield arm.”

Greedily, the Inquisitor and Ser Barris fall into each other’s arms, both falling towards her bed. The fading sunlight glints upon her name etched into the bottom of the shield.

Love Scene:

A messenger stops the Inquisitor in the main hall. "Ma'am," he greets her before passing over a letter.

She opens it to reveal the words from Ser Barris, "My love, meet me at the docks in Redcliffe village when the moon is at its peak."

With a smile, she folds the letter in her hands.

*Fade to black.*

Moonlight glints upon the choppy waves, boats knocking against the blackened docks as the Inquisitor steps towards a man sitting in a stripped, two-seater rowboat. He catches sight of her and calls, "You came."

"Of course I would," she smiles while approaching Ser Barris. He's eschewed his templar armor for little more than an ivory tunic and tight pants. "It's been some time since you've last crossed Skyhold's threshold."

"I know," his half moon smile wanes, head dropping a moment before he leans out of the boat to take her hand, "but I have every intention to make up for my absence."

With a smile, she accepts Barris' hand and steps into the small boat. It bobs with her weight, the Inquisitor lashing out to grip onto the sides before she settles onto a bench. Her love sits towards the prow, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal the flexing forearms as he dips two oars into the water. Without another word, their boat silently trails away from the docks out onto lake Calenhad.

The churning waves fade to a pristine mirror, the Inquisitor watching Barris' reflection as he continues to glide the boat deeper into unknown waters. With a smile, she dips her fingers into the glassy reflection, brisk water beading up her hand.

"Ah, best be careful," Barris says, "there are shrieking eels hiding in the depths of this lake."

She yanks her hand out, stares a moment overlong at her fingers as if one might be missing, before frowning. "Shrieking eels? Are you messing with me?"

"A little," he laughs and she joins in.

"Where are we going?"

"I wanted to give you something," Barris says. The methodical tug of the oars, the glistening splash of water against his skin, the continual bulge of his muscles all enthrall her.

She cannot look away, even while saying, "You're too generous. Every moment I see you, you're there with another gift." Her lips twist from the smile in her heart into a pang. While thoughts of him bring joy to her soul, there's always a vein of pain -- the two of them often on opposite sides of thedas regardless of her wants.

"This one is special," he whispers while turning the boat to the west.

Rising from her spot, the Inquisitor sits beside Barris. He lets go of the oar just long enough for her to catch it. Together, as if forever in tune, they begin to row the boat. Splashes of wood sundering water are all that speak between them. She feels his body winding through the silent air, not even an inch away from hers.

"I've missed you," she says, her eyes closed.

"I fear for you," he answers back. Tugging his oar in across his lap, Barris turns to her. His glistening palm cups her cheek, tugging her to him for a kiss. As the heat burns through the crisp night, their tongues twirling a more intimate dance than in any orlesian ballroom, her fingers hunger for his body. She swoops both hands to his jawline, Barris' hand cuddling the back of her head as he pulls her ever tighter.

A kerplunk breaks through their kissing, the Inquisitor's eyes opening wide as she turns to watch her abandoned oar sink to its watery grave. "Oh no," she gasps, trying to reach for it despite being far too late.

"It's all right," Barris assures her, "we have another," he lifts up his oar. "And besides, we're where I hoped to take you."

He twists her to look behind, watching as the prow of the ship parts through the glassy water. First it crosses a large white orb, so great it nearly encompasses the boat itself, reflected from the sky above them. As they continue, the boat barely drifting, the second smaller moon appears from behind the great one. At the aft rests the giant, impressive, named moon. At the prow, the tiny, often forgotten and sometimes misplaced moon reflects upon them both.

"This is..." she gasps, "beautiful." She watches the twin moons shiver in the lake's embrace, her own skin trembling at the awe-inspiring image.

"You're," Barris' lips press to her shoulder and continue higher with every word, "far more beautiful." When he reaches her lips, he pauses to say, "You've struck my heart since our first meeting. The fall from that arrow is the most delectable pain I've ever known."

Her hands wrap around his shoulders and she pulls him to her for a kiss in the middle of moonlight.

*Fade to black*

The Inquisitor's head is nestled upon Barris' bare chest, barely bobbing with the waves as the boat creaks around them. She too is as naked as the day of her birth, one hand keeping her body pressed tight to him as they stare up at the sky. The moons have long since moved on, not bothering to stop for two people sharing in each other.

"I've never done that before," she sputters, her voice exhausted, "On a boat, anyway."

His smile could shame the moon, brighter than any constellation in the sky. He turns his eyes to sweep over the woman resting upon his body. "I love you," he whispers, lifting her hand to press a kiss to each knuckle.

"I love you too," she says back.

"There was a mage I knew in the circle, claimed to be able to predict future events," Barris' voice drops, his green eyes shut tight in memory. "I wish I knew what happened to her, so I could ask..."

She turns on her stomach, her chin dipping into his pec while her eyes hunt him out, "Don't."

"Do not what? Worry for you? Fear for what will happen next in this war against a false god?"

Her palm presses to his chest right over his heart. "Only focus on coming back to me. On walking back through Skyhold's gates into my arms. On knowing I'll come back for you. Please."

Barris cups his hand over hers, the fingers folding together in perfect formation. As the boat rocks under them, the stars dance through the sky, he whispers to the world, "I swear it."

After the Wilds

The Inquisitor walks into Skyhold’s infirmary, her eyes fully upon the man trapped in a chair as a healer winds bandages around his propped up leg.

“Ser Barris?” she swallows down the concern in her voice, but just barely. His head lifts and his brow shifts from joy at discovering her face, to a frown as he glances at his injury, before shying away to one of distant protocol.

“Inquisitor,” he tips his head to her in deferment, both of them watching as the surgeon finishes up the last of her ministrations.

“How bad is it?” the Inquisitor asks, her heart throbbing in her chest. She hadn’t received word from anyone in her army since leaving the Arbor Wilds via mirror – including any of the templars.

“Broken, but in time it should take to mending nicely. Provided you follow my instructions to the letter,” the surgeon waves a finger at Barris and he shakes it away while easing his splinted leg off the chair to the ground. The Inquisitor flinches the same as her love, sharing in the pain.

“What happened?” she puts to Barris, but the surgeon interrupts.

“Damn fool leapt from a cliff to save a mage caught in the middle of two red templars.”

Barris purses his lips, those verdant eyes darting to the floor, “It was all I could think to do.”

“Coulda damn well broken your neck!” the surgeon continues to harangue him even as the man shrugs. The Inquisitor knows that feeling well – making a decision even knowing how it might end in your death without question or regret. She flexes her hand, remembering the terror rising in her heart when the Grey Warden corpse’s flesh began to crack open into Corypheus.

“May I,” she coughs, turning to the surgeon, “have a moment with Ser Barris?”

The woman bows her head, wipes her hands off on a stained half apron, and slides out to the other section of the infirmary. The Inquisitor waits a beat – trying to be certain no one else will come through – before she falls to her knees, her body swaddling around Barris’. Nuzzling into her cheek, his nose sniffs deep as if to remind himself she’s real and alive.

“When I didn’t hear anything, I was…” she gasps, tears blinding her eyes.

His warm hand cups her cheek, keeping her pressed against him. With a soft whisper, his breath caresses her skin, “I feared for you as well, my love.” She slides back from his hold, staring into the endless depths of his eyes. “And I yet do.”

Barris glares at his splinted leg and begins to rise. The Inquisitor offers a hand to him, helping the wounded warrior back to the sky. He smiles a moment, proud of the progress, but it is short lived. Hissing in pain, he begins to sink.

“This isn’t right,” he gasps, his hands clenched in fists. “I should be by your side for this final fight!”

“Not if you’re injured.”

“A broken leg is nothing, my arm can yet lift a blade,” he insists as if that’s all that’s needed. “Who knows what you will face from that monster? I cannot let you go it alone.”

“And I will not let you risk your own life for mine,” she cries back, two weeks of worrying herself into a knot unwinding upon him in one snap. No word would come from the Wilds, and it would have been unseemly for the Inquisitor to show preference for one soldier out of the army. All she could do was wait, and it nearly did her in.

“My love,” Barris sighs, his palms comforting her cheeks and hiding away any errant tears. “My life is yours.”

“Your life belongs to the templars, the Inquisition.” She knew he’d do it too. If soldiers are needed for this last push, he’d go. He’d be there, and he could die right before their victory just as assuredly as her.

“Perhaps,” he draws his fingers over her palm, “but my heart rests in one woman’s hands.” Smiling through the pain, he says, “And nothing, not even a false god, would change that.”

She falls forward, her hands scooping around her love for one more hug. One more kiss before the end, whatever that may be. “Promise me something,” Barris’ words breathe against her neck. He reaches behind his chair to unearth a shield, their shield. “Promise me you will take this into battle with Corypheus. So I will protect you and be by your side.”

Her fingers roll around the edge of the shield, her eyes never leaving Barris’. “I will,” she vows before leaning towards her love to fall into his kiss. Barris slots the shield onto her back while melding their lips, revealing that after these few months the surface is completely coated in entwined etchings of vines.

The Final Fight:

All of Skyhold celebrates in the slaying of Corypheus. The Inquisitor glances amongst her most trusted companions all imbibing with glee in the main hall. A single, fiery glint off of steel catches her eye and she turns, her smile breaking wider than the moon.

"I can't believe it's over," she says, sidling next to the man holding a drink instead of a crutch.

"I can," Barris smiles, his full attention upon her. "I knew you'd be the light to pull us from the darkness."

Her heart burns to pull him to her for a kiss, but there are various nobility and diplomats watching. She settles for letting her hand brush against the edge of his, both staring across the partying throne room.

It was done. They were safe.

"There is something I wished to tell you," Barris turns to her, his voice preternaturally serious. "I've decided to follow the Commander's lead and stop taking lyrium."

"Is that safe?" she gasps. While Cullen yet stood his ground, at the moment his hands pawing through the few small cakes to find a strawberry one, she knew it'd been hard on him. There seem to be days when even he isn't certain if he can last through the challenge.

Barris' blinding green eyes hunt through hers, pinning down her worry, "It is a risk, one that could cost me given the Order remains that rest upon my shoulders. Perhaps it is selfish of me to say, but I do not want to lose a single memory of you. The Commander is proof that I can still do good even with my powers..."

"Ser Barris," she interrupts him, tears glistening as she smiles wider, "I order you to do what you feel is best."

He too grins, "As you say, Inquisitor." For a beat the two lock eyes, his tongue darting to his lips, "But I have kept your attentions for too long. Please, you should mingle with the rest of the heroes."

Accepting her duty, she wanders out to speak with the next in a long line of congratulations. But for a moment she glances back to her knight in shining armor.

After a long night of laughing, drinking, feasting, and talking, the Inquisitor begins to retire towards her quarters. As she reaches the door, she's stopped by a familiar face.

"I hoped you'd like some company for the evening," Barris begins, his body pressing closer, the intoxicating heat enveloping her.

She takes her hand off the door handle and places it upon Barris' forearm. "There's nothing I'd love more," she darts her eyes up and down his body. At the bottom she pauses, "How's your leg?"

"Worried about injuring me?" Barris finds her fears hidden in the question. Before she can voice the answer, his sturdy and safe hands swoop around her ass. A single yelp erupts from the Inquisitor as the Knight-Commander lifts her into the air, securing her body in his arms. She winds her legs around his waist, her chest crushed to the armor as they fall into the kiss of survival.

A kiss worth fighting for.

Barris' lips slip away and he whispers, "I think it'll do fine for the evening." Giddy, the pair of them open the door and vanish into the long stairwell to the Inquisitor's quarters. Not once does he put her down.

As the sun rises over a new dawn in thedas, Barris brushes his hand against her cheek. With no eyes watching, no orders, nothing but hope before her she happily curls her face into it.

"All that and you're still standing," she muses. Even with her eyes closed in joy she can feel his protecting gaze watching her.

"I could say the same of you, my love," Barris whispers back.

With a languid turn, the Inquisitor walks out to her balcony. Rosy streaks of the sun turn the snow a glistening pink. As she places her hands over the banister, she says, "Everything's going to change."

Warm hands slide over her stomach, tugging her away from the long fall and back into his embrace. Barris' chin caresses her shoulder, his lips whispering, "And I shall be by your side for all of it."

Trespasser

In her red velvet finery, the Inquisitor approaches the scope overlooking the lush Orlesian fields. She bends down to peer through it when a voice coughs from behind her.

"I'd hoped to catch you before the talks began."

Smiling wide, she spins in place. Her eyes drink in the man in the finest uniform he owns, his hair worn long with locs spilling to the right. She aches to envelope him in her arms, but keeps both at her side.

"You're here," she all but leaps in joy. "I feared, what with the problems along the border..."

Barris steps forward, his hand picking up hers and swaddling it, "I would not be a step from your side, not when you need me."

"I know, love," she sighs, trying to keep on a brave face even as her heart swells in gratefulness at his mere presence. "But I suspect the only thing I need worry about is my legs falling asleep as the talks carry on."

"Will the word of the Knight-Commander carry any weight to honor the good deeds of the Inquisition before the council?"

"Some," she tips her head in thought, "I hope so."

He smiles, his teeth blinding in the bright southern sun, "Would the word of the Knight-Commander be enough to provide the Inquisitor a momentary escape?"

"Depends on what you had in mind." Forgoing the eyes behind masks watching her, fully forgetting the warnings Josephine bathed her in, she slips her arms around the back of Barris' neck. It'd been too long since last they were together.

The man whistles once, causing a horse to trot up from behind. He brushes a hand against the steed's flank and smiles. "Trust me."

"I always do," she answers, leaping into the saddle.

*Fade to black*

In the distance, she can make out the Winter Palace along with all of her people fretting over the coming talks. But here is sunshine, velvety grass caressing her knees, and no diplomats to pry her away for miles. "I hope no one panics because they can't find me for a few minutes and thinks this an act of war," she mutters to herself.

Barris ceases grooming their amenable horse long enough to glance once back at the Palace as if to make certain a battalion of chevaliers aren't coming for him. "We should have a little time to ourselves before any declarations are made."

With a hand placed to her hip, she cocks her head to the side in the direction of a blanket stretched over the ground. "Whatever did you have in mind?"

Both of his hands scoop around her cheeks, preparing her for the onslaught of love he unleashes from his lips. The kiss is so deep, so heartfelt, so soul-meltingly warm, she nearly tumbles to the ground in surprise.

"I've missed you," Barris whispers.

"Me too...especially at night," her fingers begin to wind their way towards the templar skirt.

Her love gasps, letting her try to undress him a moment more before he fumbles to catch her hand. "Wait. There's...something I want to say."

Leaning down, Barris rustles through the grass to lift up something hidden beside the blanket. She crosses her arms and sighs, "You did not pull me all the way out here just to give me a gift."

"No," he insists, then his eyes dart to whatever is in his hands, "I mean, I..." His fingers draw over the edges of his would-be gift. "Old habits."

"I don't want them to die," she insists, cupping her hand behind the back of his.

"I believe it is time I step away from the templars entirely," Barris whispers, his eyes shut tight.

"Relapses happen," she races to comfort him, "All those days around the others taking lyrium. I don't blame you for..."

"That is not why," his smile nearly rends her heart in two. It was a hard climb out of that hole whenever he fell, but she was always there with a hand to help.

Barris scratches his fingers over his gift before passing it to the Inquisitor. "Here," he announces as if she had no idea it was for her.

Into her weighed down palms he drops a brick, white stone with both of their names carved into it. "What's this for? To bean the Ferelden diplomat in the head?"

He laughs at her mocking throw of the hefty brick at the Arl. "No, it's the cornerstone for our hearth."

"Our hearth?"

"You deserve a mantle for our shield, a heart for a home. Not a keep, not a hold, a home."

Her breath catches as he too draws her palm over this no longer unassuming brick. "Delrin...?"

"I don't care where in thedas you want it to be. Ferelden, Orlais, the Free Marches, Nevarra... I'll even build it in Skyhold if you cannot imagine giving it up, but please, my love," he clasps his hands under hers, both holding their future in their palms, "let me give you a home."

"Will you be there?" she gulps, tears rising in her eyes.

"Every day."

"Yes," the Inquisitor gasps, her lips cupping his in a kiss. Tears of joy drench both their cheeks as Barris tugs her ever tighter.

As he pulls away, Barris' bright eyes drift to the ground a moment, a blush dabbing his cheeks. "Then you accept...?"

"Oh for the love of," she hurls the brick behind her to the ground where it safely thuds to the grass. With both hands, the Inquisitor grabs onto the man who'd been by her side in both flesh and spirit for two years.

"I'm never letting you go," she says, her voice full of command. With a shove, she and Barris both tumble onto the blanket, the man laughing as his armor jangles from the fall. Her hands part down the templar emblems clinging to his body, her fingers aching to wrench them off.

Barris cups her chin, tugging her to him for a kiss. "Nor I you." As the pair roll through the sweet grass, trying to make up for lost time, the summer light shines a single ray down upon the brick.

Carved upon its surface under their entwined names is the date 9:44 and the phrase "Our Home."

THE END

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 17: Leif and Let Leif

Part 16

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Goddammit it’s another desert map. We just beat one of those, dammit! *sob* Damn you, game. Damn you to Hell. Tell me your story, you bastard.

And wide, inspiring courage anew in the Empire’s victims. Still more uprisings erupt across Jugdral, but once again, precious few are properly organized and are easily crushed, and the death toll climbs ever higher…

Leonster, a kingdom in the Thracian Peninsula…

(FIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNN!)

But they have suffered a devasating loss before King Blume’s vast hordes and are stranded in hostile ground.

The oasis city of Darna,

(Guess which one of these faces will be recruitable.)

In Rivough, Seliph and the warriors of his liberation army now prepare themselves to embark on a journey and come to the aid of their allies in far-away Leonster. Each warrior sets aside their worries as, under Seliph’s leadership, they prepare for the new battle on their horizon.

(Well. Finn is back, but he’s not exactly a bundle of sunshine, huh.)

Finn: This is a crippling blow to our army. We’ve lost most of our might in one fell swoop.

Leif: This can’t be happening… I thought this was our chance… was all of this useless all along? Damn it all! I’ll kill Blume with my bare hands!

(Damn, Leif is way less chill than his dad was.)

Finn: Please calm yourself, milord! This isn’t the end quite yet. I’ve just had a word with King Lewyn. He’s sending Prince Seliph’s liberation army to back us up. Until then, no matter what, we must endure the siege milord.

Leif: Prince Seliph, you say… He’s the son of my father’s old friend Sigurd and Empress Deirdre, right?

Hair Wings are the Best: I think we should abandon the castle for now, and seek refuge in that western church.  

Leif: Hm, you’re right. I suppose we don’t have much choice now.  Very well. Our priority is to play this out defensively for the time being. Until Prince Seliph gets here, we must endure…

Blume: Buffoons, all of you! Do you really think I want to hear excuses? I want Leonster seized! No more delays! If you waste any more time on this, then we’ll have to contend with those Isaachian mongrels as well!

(So blume takes after his dad, then. Good to know.)

Moustache: Y-yes milord! We will strike immediately, milord!

(Dammit all, I let Dew die childless specifically to avoid a character like you.)

Girl!Dew: But I can’t afford to dawdle now. Still gotta get out of here, and quick…

Do the Dew: Do you have any idea how tough it was to get my hands on this sword? If you want it, come get it, nincompoop!

Shanan: W-wait!

Priest Whose Name I have Already Forgotten: And they absconded with Balmung?! You fools! Go seize them! Now!

Mook: Y-yes, your grace! But, er, your grace… surely a master of dark magics of your caliber could crush common thieves such as these with a single blow, even from here?

I think it was Cthfuzorc or something: I’ve misplaced my book of Fenrir.  My men are scouring the shrine to find it, but so far it has yet to emerge…

Trying Not to Laugh: Understood, your grace. In that case, my clan and I will take a few mercenaries and pursue them. We swear to you, your grace, that we will have the treasure back where it belongs post-haste!

Lewyn: the order’s fell mages infest the desert, mercilessly assaulting anyone they find in it. People’ve taken to calling the region the Desert of Death… a fitting name, really.

Seliph: I can only imagine how awfully travelers struggle here! I wonder… perhaps it’d be possible to seize the shrine from the Order?

Lewyn: Heh, I thought you’d never ask. There’s always a way, but this one won’t be easy. We may need to make sacrifices.  

Seliph: So be it. At this point we’ve little choice. Not to mention, Shanan is likely still in the desert… for now, let’s focus on taking control of Yied! All else will begin there!

And here we go, the first REAL chapter of generation two. And what I mean by real, of course…

THERE’S AN ARENA! SCREW LEIF AND SHANAN, IT’S TIME TO SPEND FIVE HOURS DOING GLADIATOR COMBAT, BITCHES.

Seliph: Seven wins, gained four levels: +8 HP, +3 Skl, +3 Str, +1 Mag, +2 Luck, +2 Def, +1 Res

Julia: Three wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Magic, +1 Luck

Oifey: Seven wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Luck

Ulster: Seven wins, gained two levels: +3 HP, +1 Skill, +1 Strength, +2 Speed, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Larcei: Seven wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +3 Strength, +2 Speed, +2 Magic, +1 Luck

Lester: Seven wins, gained two levels: +2 HP, +2 Strength, +1 Magic, +1 Speed, +1 Defense

Dermott:  Seven wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +1 Skill, +3 Strength, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Fee: Seven wins, gained three levels: +3 HP, +2 Skill, +1 Strength, +3 Magic, +1 Luck, +1 Defense

Arthur: Seven wins, gained three levels: +5 HP, +2 Skill, +4 Speed, +1 Magic, +3 Luck, +1 Defense, +1 Res

Johan: Six wins, gained one level: +1 HP, +1 Speed, +1 Defense

Dammit, Julia.  She’s unfortunately too slow to deal with the Myrmidon hanging out at Rank Four; he doubles her and she can’t hit him with any sort of accuracy. We’ll try this again at the end of the map. And speaking of the map…

So here’s what we’ve got. To the west of us is Yied Shrine, which is full of Loptyrites, and the desert between us and them is just silly with Dark Mages. Shanan himself is to the west of the Shrine; and directly south of it are two additional castles that we’re going to have to conquer eventually because of course we will. However, they don’t go hostile until we take Yied, and we can’t get the rest of the army to Lief’s rescue until we take them, so we’ve got a war ahead of us.  Lief himself is directly south of our starting point, at the neutral castle Leonster, and directly south of him is the end-of-chapter boss. He has two units to protect him, and despite being told to run away, the three of them can often hold out on their own.  But there’s a lot of villages down there and we want those bad. So we’re gonna abandon the castle… AND CHARGE.  

Now. Before we get rolling, I do believe we have five new people to look at.

First off, Shanan. Like Oifey he’s a pre-promote, joining as a Swordmaster despite being level 12.  However, he has some factors that make him more useful than Oifey in the long run:.First of all, his growths in everything other than HP and Skill are very much on the low side, but his base stats are so high it hardly matters; he’s not really going to get significantly stronger, but who cares when he’s already strong enough to fight 90% of the game’s enemies right now? Even if every level he gets is mediocre at best, he’ll probably still be fine for the endgame.  Second, his abilities are great, joining up with Pursuit, Adept, and Astra ready to rock.  Third…

Dewlette: Wait… give it back? Is it yours?

Shanan: Yes, it is! That’s my family’s ancestral blade, Balmung. I’m the only person capable of using it. You’ve nothing at all to gain from keeping it.

DewTwo: Wait, so how’d this thing end up in Yied, anyway?

Shanan: It belonged to my father, who died in Grannvale’s war with Isaach. Someone must’ve stolen it from him after he died.  I only recently learned that it was being kept at Yied, so I came to retrieve it.

Dewlightful: Hang on, hang on, hang on! Could it be… are you Isaach’s Prince Shanan?!

Shanan: I am….

One, Dew, Three times a Lady: Really?! It’s really, really you?! Wow! Oh my gosh! This is incredible!

Shanan: Er…

Dew it To Me One More Time: No, really, I’ve heard all the stories about you! All of them! I’ve been a huge fan of yours for so long, but I never thought I’d actually meet you!

Shanan: …

Don’t Dew Drugs: But you’re here! You’re really talking to me right now! It’s like all my dreams’ve come true!                                                                        

Shanan: … Yeah, I think I get the idea. My sword, please?

COULD YOU JUST INTRODUCE YOURSELF ALREADY: Oh, right, sorry! Here ya go.

Shanan: Balmung… my holy sword… It’s finally mine… hm? Ahh! What is this power…?!

Screw it, her name is Patty: Woooow! This is incredible…

And there we go. Balmung is pretty excellent, enough to push Shanan into a tier higher than his growths would otherwise allow; it gives the same broken stat boosts as Forseti, falling behind it only by virtue of not being able to attack from a distance. Since he’s currently alone against an army of dark mages and mercenaries, he’s gonna need it.  

Well, okay, he’s not alone, but he might as well be because Patty is, unfortunately, a level one thief. She’s, as you see from the Minor Odo and Minor Ullur blood, the daughter of Bridget and Holyn, and one of the pairs of kids in the game who inherits the gear of her opposite gendered parent; she gets Holyn’s gear and swords. Unfortunately, even with her Odo blood, she can only use swords up to B-rank, and I was a dimwit and didn’t leave Holyn with one of those for her to inherit.  So she only has her default weapon, a Sleep Edge, which is unfortunately kind of too heavy for a fragile speedster to really put to its best use. Like Dew before her she will eventually turn out pretty good; better than Dew himself by a good margin due to having Holy Blood growth boosts and inheriting Holyn’s Luna skill, but she’s… gonna take some babying.

And now a member of the other pair of kids who take after the opposite parents. Prince Leif, son of Quan and Ethlyn, and heir to his mother’s swords (unfortunately not her staves because… well, because Fire Emblem hates the players, and despite being the same class as Lachesis, who could use staves, he can’t until he promotes). As a Prince, he starts off on the weak side and becomes a demon god when he promotes to Master Knight; he’s a little easier to get there than good ol’ Lachesis was, though, on account of having much better growths and inheriting Adept and Critical from his parents. However, he’s also going to need some babying to achieve his full power.    

All grown up and ready to kick ass, Finn is unchanged from his appearance in the first generation stat-wise, and still has all his kick-ass old spears. Our Finn turned out really well, you may recall, and so he’s going to be doing a lot of the legwork in keeping Leif alive.  He’s also only 32 EXP away from promoting, so he should be improving himself even more by the end of the map.  I’m frankly amazed; I’ve never gotten a Finn that was able to hold up in the endgame of the second gen, but this one may actually pull it off.  He’s already slightly better than Oifey without even getting his promotion stat boosts.

And last but not least, Nanna.  She’s Beowulf and Lachesis’s daughter, and Dermott’s sister, and a fairly solid unit. If nothing else, she’s a Troubador like good old Ethlyn was, meaning she has staves and a horse. Her growths are pretty below-average for a second generation unit, but she’ll never be useless simply by virtue of being a healer with a huge range of movement. And with Pursuit and Accost from dear old dad, she should turn out to be a pretty solid combat unit as well if she gets lucky.  

… Don’t be like Ethlyn, Nanna. She isn’t even your mom, you just share her class. Please.

*whew*

All right, that’s it for new units, so let’s rock.  The main army begins moving west towards the desert; there’s a small army of dark mages in their way, but too far away from us to reach on this turn.  Dark Magic is a pain in the ass as you may recall; it’s outside the weapon triangles, which means nothing has an advantage against it.  Even Light magic only manages ‘neutral’ and all other magic is inferior.  So…. I’m not in a huge hurry to fight them, but Julia will be pulling her weight here, I tell you that. Leif, Finn, and Nanna, on the other hand, begin moving south toward the many villages in their section of the map. There are, of course, tons of bandits, so we’ll need to rush if we want to kill them before Blume’s army reaches us.  

End turn.                                                                                

You… you guys can stay out in the desert if you want…

But my cartoonish terror aside, only one enemy can actually reach us this turn, a mercenary who takes a shot at Shanan.

It coulda gone better for him.

On our turn, I move most of the army to the north; I want Julia to bear the brunt of the mage assault, backed up by Arthur with his book of invincibility. I also take this opportunity to have Oifey have a chat with Dermott.

Oifey: Sir Finn, you say… you’re eager to have the chance to see her again, aren’t you?

Dermott: Yes sir! I can hardly wait!

Oifey: Heh. You’ll have to give this battle your all first, then! How about a quick lesson?

Dermott: Yes, sir! I’d appreciate that!

Normally I would say that during a battle isn’t the right time to be exercising, but it gives Dermott a permanent +1 boost to his Strength, Skill, and Defense, so I’m not gonna complain.

Now, Patty and Shanan.  The thing about this situation is that Patty really cannot fight anything here, so Shanan is gonna have to carry this situation while she hides.  But while the enemy is coming from the east, there’s also two enemies south of them coming along the ridge.  

And guess what, of course Patty can’t fight them either. So this is gonna be a dance.  First, the mages are the biggest threat. They have very little chance of hitting Shanan while he’s got his ubersword in hand, but if they hit he’s fucked. So let’s deal with that first.

One down, a small army to go.  

And Patty is safe for the moment. The two swordsmen should both die on Shanan this turn, so she can move in again around the time the southern wing starts getting close. Neat.  And now for Leif’s team;

Leif and Nanna use mad teamwork to barely defeat a single enemy. I’m so… proooud?  Nanna follows up by liberating the village, stopping them from ever touching it.

Passive Aggressive: Lord Quan… Lady Ethlyn… I pray you’re both proud of your son… please, kind knight, accept this Speed Ring. I’d like you to wear it proudly to your battles.  

… I wish I’d let Leif have that instead of Nanna, but I forgot it was there. Eh, I’ll cope.  I have Finn make a run for the farthest village he can reach, the goal being to kill the bandits more than loot anything. He’s actually got funds left from his own army days, so he doesn’t really need the money. I just want to stop these jerks from torching the money which will be divvied up later amongst my noble men. End turn! The dark mages move in and one takes a swing at our girl Julia.

“SECRET PRINCESS… BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM!”

And over near Yied…

Shanan you are the man. Forget prince, my man, you’re KING.  

…. Fuck, story is happening. What now? Do we really need more enemies? Really?

(Celice and Serlis were common fan translations for Seliph’s name before Intelligent Systems confirmed an official one. Someone’s in the writer’s booth is being snippy~)

Bramsel: The Empire’s put a hefty price on that boy’s head. Let’s make sure we’re the ones to rake in the bounty, shall we? Keep our border locked down for the time being. The best option is to let them run themselves ragged, leaving them wide open to our strike! Instruct commander Jabarro to put his squad on standby. His services will be needed in short order!

(Okay, game, that’s literally just Eldigan with a different colored shirt. You could at least try to keep these things a mystery.)

Ribbons: Oh, that’s good. I guess I’m a bit worried about how you’re gonna have to go and fight too, Ares…

Ares: What sorry excuse for a mercenary would I be if I refused to join a battle, Lene? Never mind one which, rumor has it, will oppose Sigurd’s son… never would I deny a chance to personally slay the spawn of my father’s mortal foe.  

Lene: Hee hee! You’re still going on about that, are you? Oh, you dolt.

(Lene Burn!)

Lene: I mean, think about it. Both your father and that Sigurd man were knights, weren’t they? And isn’t killing part of a knight’s job? It’s like my job. Sometimes I have to dance for foul, leering men! I hate it, but it’s part of the work. I have to just deal with it. We’ve all gotta do what we’ve gotta do to get by in life. I dunno… I just don’t think it’s right to hate someone for doing their job.

Ares: Lene… I understand. I’ll have to think it over for a time, but I do understand…

And with that (and a very off-putting few seconds of movement while the other enemy faction down in Leif’s area moves around aimlessly) we have our turn back. Julia strikes down her foes with the power of a queen.

And Arthur powers up the Invinci-cannon.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm that’s the stuff. I discretely move Lana back toward the castle because I realize I forgot to repair all her staves, while everyone else moves to the west, getting ready to intercept one slow mage coming up through the desert.  Julia is our queen and she shall slay the bulk of these filthy peasants, but she’s kind enough to leave her leftovers for the other, lesser souls.

Oh, and Shanan is here too.

Actually not bad! Like I said, his growths are actually not great, and Defense is one of his less impressive stats at the moment, so I’ll take it.  And finally, the Leif team.  

… I missed you so much, Finn. Leif and Nanna need to team up and use the power of friendship and proclaim the power of Sailor Moon just to kill a bandit, while Finn is just BAM, BRAVE LANCE, DONE.  Weapon Triangle? For bitches.  

End turn!

You are nothing to her, worms.  

And that’s the only combat for this turn, barring someone taking a shot at Shanan and missing.  Which, speaking of, I think it’s time for Shanan to start moving on. See, the boss in Yied Castle actually does find that tome he was talking about in the opening cutscene if you wait to long, and then he starts blasting you.  So the guy who missed him last turn gets to live, because he’s moving in to slaughter the castle defenders and assassinate the boss.  And we add one more kill to the Daughter of the World-ender.

Estuans interius

Ira vehementi

Estuans interius

Ira vehementi

Julia

Julia

 But there’s a lot of them, and if I let her kill them all, the game will last forever. So I have some peons take a shot.  

… I hate dark mages.

Lester if you wanted to make me happy, gaining a point in damn magic wasn’t the way to do it.  I have Fee start running across the desert to join Shanan, since she has enough resistance to be trustworthy around these jerks, and have Seliph move onto a forest in the range of one mage. My hope is that he’ll dodge this one while Julia crushes the others, then everyone can gang up on the sole survivor.

See, Lester? This is what being reliable looks like. Finn has weapon triangle disadvantage and he’s still wrecking these jerks.  Just for that, he gets some money that he doesn’t need.

Apparently Not Sure What ‘Terrifying’ Means: Then there’s Tinni, a young mage… Blume’s niece she may be, but that girl’s still got a kind heart on her. She’s come to our aid and the aid of our neighbor villages time and again… she’s nothing like her family.

FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORESHADOWING. Let’s wrap things up with the Friendship Team.

Not bad. I would normally complain about the lack of offensive growth of any kind, but Speed and Defense in the same level really makes up for it.  End turn!

… And luckily, the AI is kind of dumb, and prioritizes Julia because it can’t miss her. Thing is, it also can’t kill her. She doubles the dark mages, and Nosferatu heals her when she hits them. So they hit her once, and she hits them back twice and eats their health to get back to full power.

…. Oops. Did I leave Leif in enemy range? Well, he’s doing well so far, no biggie. Our turn begins on a fairly strong position with one exception: A dark mage is close enough to Patty he might attack her. If that goes wrong, I’m screwed! I messed this up badly. Patty, run. Run, Patty. Run.

…. Fuck. She can’t run. I… ugh. Okay, well. Patty has one shot at this and it’s very, very unlikely she’ll pull it off.

… Nope, didn’t do it. If he’d fallen asleep from getting hit by her Sleep Edge, she could have maybe held out until Shanan got back to her, but he didn’t and as a result she’s dead on the enemy phase regardless of what I do. Reset.

All right. Looking ahead on things with the foresight of someone paying attention to where units are actually standing, I do a few things differently.  First, Shanan kills the last enemy in his area so Patty can’t get caught in a pincer.

That done, Patty runs over to hide under his skirt.

Two, remembering well that Lester got creamed, I hand it to Johan, who also can’t miss but hits somewhat harder.

Good job, Johan. You’re not gonna be marrying Larcei, because something about you worries me. But good job. Team Leif, meanwhile, does exactly what they did before and it goes about as well, only Leif actually gets a somewhat better level!

No magic, of course. He takes after his mother, after all. Okay! End Turn, and let’s try this again.  

And hey, Julia remembers she has Adept and kills two of the mages she only wounded last time! Her dark power grows.  She also gained a slightly different level, but I lost the screenshot: +1HP, +1 Magic, +1 Speed. I’ll take it gleefully.  

… Less Gleeful, but Nanna will fix that right up.

Right then. Our turn starts, and the main army has only two mages left to kill. Arthur wipes out the one Julia crippled earlier…

While Julia moves herself to intercept the final one. In fact, this is mostly a turn of moving, because few people make any real attacks. Shanan moves toward the boss, Patty moves to hide behind him, the army moves toward Yied, and Leif… moves back toward the castle he was told to abandon.

Yeah. Yeah. We’re not giving up. Fuck that. Nanna patches him, and he makes a run toward Leonster! He is going to defend his home. And hopefully gain some needed levels.  

… This might end badly.

End turn!

Well, Julia’s back to not killing things. That’s nice. Well, it’s our turn again, and she’ll fix that.

Yum.  Shanan finally starts the attack on Yied proper…

And Leif takes up position to wait out the siege.

This is a risk. I’m very much not sure it will work. But the enemy army is almost entirely armor, which means only one of them can attack Leif at a time, and with the castle he gets a bonus to evasion and heals every turn. If he manages to kill all these fuckers and gets mostly decent levels, he will be pretty much set for the rest of the game.  Don’t be like your mother, Leif.

End turn.

…. Nothing happens on the enemy phase, so.  At this point, Shanan could just walk up and shank the boss, but if he does that Patty will die to the other units in the area. So instead he runs up to hit this guy…

And Patty once more hides under his skirt. Fee, who has finally arrived after a million years, takes up position to intercept the incoming swordsman that’s behind them.  I forgot to repair her spear after her arena runs, but she should be able to hold out.

I’m… not doing well on this map.  

Now, Seliph is needed to liberate Yied and Larcei has a conversation with Shanan, so I send the two of them into the desert while the rest of the army starts moving south.  As soon as we take the shrine the rest of the map opens up, and I want soldiers in position.  Similarly, Nanna and Finn move into position to support Leif if he needs it; hopefully he will not, between his bitchin’ sword and strong defensive position. End turn…

FEE! DODGE!

LEIF! DON’T EMULATE HER!

Hoo boy. This may have been a mistake. Um… okay, guys. Take your shots. Don’t fuck this up.

Light Bright, on! It doesn’t kill the armor, unfortunately, but Leif is technically hitting him from a distance here and can’t be countered, so it works out. Shanan, can you please shank the boss?

Damn, you sure can. Um… end turn. Patty will die if she attacks anyone. This is bad. This is super bad.  Unless for some reason the enemy all go for someone else, we’re a bit screwed. In fact we might be screwed anyway if the swordsman can double her.

OH THANK YOU JESUS. The remaining mage attacked Shanan, and when the sword guy hit Patty her Sleep Edge worked for once and caught him, so he’s immobilized for a few turns.  Oh. Oh, man. Thank you.  We live another turn, though this is still gonna be wonky to get out of unless the enemy AI futzes up again and keeps trying to zap Shanan. Leif, as well, gives a good showing…

One down, way too many to go.  On our turn, I have Shanan clear out one of the two remaining mages:

And move Patty behind him, and…

And win. The battle for Yied Shrine is over, and despite fucking up like seven times, we came out on top. The sole remaining mage can only attack Shanan, who he cannot one-shot and who definitely can one-shot him in return. The swordsman down in the corner there is asleep for five more turns, so Patty can plink him to death and get some much-needed Experience.  

Leif kills another armor, meanwhile, and continues his long but sure ascent to godhood.  It’s never 100% safe to assume in FE, but with two levels in a row that good, I’m reasonably sure that Leif will hold the castle against all comers.  Once we get him to an Arena he should be well on his way to outright amazing before the end of the chapter. End turn.

*sniff* Everything is coming together for the end, I swear.  What follows is going to be very boring, as barring a few more armors spawning in Leif’s area, there’s no threats left. So it’s going to be nothing but Seliph wandering the desert like Moses while we plink away at enemies.  So here’s the highlights.

Shanan: You went and took back Isaach behind my back, did you, Seliph? I can’t thank you enough!

Seliph: No, we’d still be in Tirnanog if not for you. You inspired us. You gave us your courage. If not for you, we could never have taken to the field!

Shanan: Heh, you’re starting to put on a bit of muscle there, aren’t you? You’re finally starting to…

Seliph: Shanan…?

Shanan: Hm? Oh, it’s nothing. Pay me no mind, Seliph.  

Seliph: Anyway,we’re finally starting to challenge the empire! Not bad, wouldn’t you say?

Shanan: Heh, not bad at all. I’ve waited so long for this day… we all have, really.

Seliph: Thank you, Shanan!

(Seliph gains +1 Skill from this, because… um… it was… a very… skillful discussion?)

Larcei: Don’t worry about it! The important part is you’re safe. I, er…

Shanan: How’s your sword arm doing? Any stronger?

Larcei: Yes, but still far below your prowess, sir.

Shanan: How about a quick lesson to patch that up. See, raw power isn’t quite enough here. Try putting a bit more spirit into it… and swing!

Larcei: Nnnn-yah!  Like this, sir?

(Must be, because she gets +2 strength from that. Hell of a workout, apparently.)

(Nanna, I swear to God if you don’t get some magic growth I will shave your ridiculous 80′s hair.)

(Fucking finally. I realize that was quick for you, but for me it was like twelve turns of sand and non-threatening combat that wasn’t even worth showing.)

Lewyn: They had no choice. Trying to build new lives on the surface would have led to their mass persecution, or even being burned at the stake. I suspect that at first they weren’t really bad or unusual people, but before long, their life here twisted them into what we know them as today.

(Not to question your wisdom, Lewyn, but they probably could have built a life on the surface if they didn’t insist on worshipping a god that eats children.)

Seliph: I can hardly believe it… It’s as if they were being tortured for the sins of their long-dead ancestors…

(Well, I mean, dude, they did keep worshipping Loptyr. Who, again, eats children.)

Seliph: All my life, these people have been branded as ‘the dark cult’ or ‘devil’s kin’. I can hardly imagine their pain… hold a moment. This scribble on the wall… is that a child’s penmanship? It’s a prayer. And it begs for the return of the dark god… was loptyr the only hope these people had?

(No, forgetting Loptyr and moving on to the worship of… I dunno, Fluffingor, god of soft things. That would have been a good hope. I’m all for freedom of religion, I know people like to keep to their faith, but when your god eats children you really need to reconsider.)

Lewyn: Yeah… Consider this a lesson, Seliph. Good and evil can’t be easily reduced to simple, black-and-white ideals. If you must hate, hate the evil that lurks in us all, not the individual.  Never forget this.

Welp. As much as I’d love to sit around and debate morality with Lewyn (Again, my counter-argument would be ‘don’t worship a child-eating demon’, but you’d be shocked how applicable that is), we’ve taken the castle and I’m very tired. You guys take a nice week off while I sleep. I should wake up by the time the next update is due. Maybe.

Resets: 21. Level One Thief syndrome is a terrible thing. 

Part 18

[fictionerd]

Good to see you, Nya~

You’ll have to forgive me if things get a little brief here. Fictionerd seems to have vanished and I’m not sure where he is. We watched the latest episode of Magical Girl Ore, but as soon as it finished he took off without writing notes or anything. That’s kind of why I haven’t gotten around to putting anything up about the series. He just sort of vanished and I haven’t seen him since yesterday.

Picking up from where the series left off last week we now know that Saki and Sakuyo’s manager is the boss of the demons that have been going after Mohiro. Having learned that Saki and Sakuyo are on to him he enacts the final phase of his plan. He finally secures Mohiro, and unleashes a horde of demons upon the city through portals scattered everywhere. Something about these portals seems to cause massive trauma to the fabric of reality making the artwork of the world somewhat crappier and more inconsistent. 

Konami gets on TV and announces is great villainous plan to the world and then invites the Magical Girl Idols to come and take him down. Saki and Sakuyo do so with Hyoe telling them he’ll try to find a way to close the portals. The two go to the Demon Realm to find it all dressed up like some kind of strange cutesy RPG world. The door to Konami’s chamber is locked and a horde of Demons crawls out of the woodwork to challenge the two. Sakuyo literally throws Saki through the door saying that she’ll fight to defend Saki so that Ore can be there to rescue Mohiro. 

Saki moves onward reluctant to leave her friend behind, but knowing that to do anything else would be spitting on the very reasons they both became Magical Girls. When she arrives Konami gives a big “Final Boss” speech and then calls a cut. He’s been filming everything that’s happened and it’s revealed that the entire reason he’s done any of this was in order to make Saki famous as a magical girl.

Even as a Demon Administrator Konami was always a fan of Magical Girls. When the overseer of the Demon Invasion of Earth was killed and Konami learned that Magical Girls were responsible he took over the position personally, lying through his teeth for the sake of meeting his beloved Magical Girls.

When he arrived, however, he was greeted by the sight of Saki’s mom in her failing Magical Girl form. This threw him into despair and made him slide lower and lower in the esteem of the Demon Realm. He got the job as an Idol Manager, Met Saki, and just as the Demon Realm was about to come down on his ass Kokoro approached Saki to become a Magical Girl.

This was when Konami struck sending demons to capture Mohiro serving as the catalyst for Saki to become a Magical Girl. Every attack and bit of leaked information about Ore and Sakigasuki since then had been Konami’s doing. His dastardly plan? To Skyrocket Saki as Ore into popularity and then have her defeat him to cement her as a hero.

We end with that revelation, and I’ve just got to say that-

Fic: Hold up there, Robin.

Robin: Fic!? Oh good, you’re here. I was just in the middle of doing the post. Did you have some notes for me on your thoughts?

Fic: I have thoughts on the episode, but there’s something more important we need to discuss.

Robin: Nya? [Cocks his head to the side]

Fic: You’re not from Magical Girl Ore.

Robin: [Begins visibly sweating] What are you talking about, Fic? O-of course I’m from Magical Girl Ore. It was you getting frustrated at the show that tore open the portal that brought me here. I was working for Konami and-

Fic: [Points a sword in Robin’s direction] Don’t lie to me, Robin. Your story about what you are, and the lore of Magical Girl Ore don’t add up. You were able to hide when I didn’t know too much, but with the most recent episode your cover’s been blown. Who or what are you?

Robin: [Stops cowering and hunches forward. Shadows cover his face and his voice no longer sounds cutesy] So you think the game is over do you? Not by a long shot. However, I’ll answer some of your questions. You’re right: I’m not originally from Magical Girl Ore. I simply inhabited the body of one of Konami’s Demon Minions. I played along in that creature’s role until your frustration opened the door to the Library for me.

Fic: What do you plan to do now? You know what I’m capable of. 

Robin: Oh, I DO know. I know very well what your capable of, “Drake”. For now my plan is to finish out this series. From there? We’ll have to see next week.

Fic: [Swings sword but Robin catches it inches from his bulbous teddy-bear head] My name is not “Drake”. As for finishing the series. I don’t think so. We’re going to have this out RIGHT NOW.

Robin: [Dissolves into shadows that split and move along the floor of the library melting into shadowy corners elsewhere] I don’t think so, Fic. We’ve got to save that for when this is all done. Trust me. Things won’t be so grim as you’ve made them out to be in your head. You go ahead and share your thoughts on this week’s episode. I’ll be around.

[Puts away the sword he had acquired and looks back at what all Robin had said]

Hey, This is me now. I don’t know what Robin was planning to say to end this out, but whatever he is has got me a tad bit spooked. I continue to be perplexed as to why exactly I enjoy this show. Though at this point I’ve come to just accept it. I’m pleasantly surprised by the path it’s taken to get to this point. I feel somewhat safe in saying it had more than just the “Buff dude as a magical girl” joke to carry it. They seem to have taken that as the starting point and then asked themselves how many ludicrous, tropey, or sattiric ideas they could staple to it as supports.

I still feel like I ought to hate this show, but I just don’t. It’s like some sort of goofy, misshapen puppy creature. It can’t support the weight of one side of its body, but you just have to adore the way it keeps stumbling around trying to look cute. I like that Saki just let Konami go through his “Dramatic Reveal” Speech even though she knew it was him. 

I also like the implication that Mohiro is going to take some sort of active role in the final episode. That seems particularly interesting.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got to go down to my Fa-

I need to go down to the Lab and see if I can dig up any research notes from the Library’s previous occupant. See if they had any clue what this thing is. Maybe it’s telling the truth and whatever it has planned for next week won’t be so bad, but then again, maybe not.

Until next post keep talking fiction, friends! I’ll see you soon.