#what other than the thistle for Law

[loriache]

I was flicking through chapter 55 for my Thistle meta and I'm struck by how completely crazy this move of Kabru's is. He deliberately lets Thistle escape! If he'd let Mithrun kill him - that's it, the disaster of Utaya won't be repeated. (At least, not here).

Kabru-related rough thoughts below the cut.

Like Shuro says after this, if that's what he wanted, leaving things to the elves would be the fastest way. But Kabru won't be satisfied with that! He wants to understand what happened. He doesn't want to leave it in the hands of people who don't see him and those like him as full, adult people. He wants to understand what happened!

He's such a big-picture thinker... I know this is just, literal textual stuff, hardly analysis! But I'm talking it through to myself. At this point, he really isn't sure about Laois, but he is still willing to trust things to him and hope that Laois will listen to him.

I do think Kabru's wrong about Laios at this point. He isn't just thinking about monsters, he does think about people and about bigger picture stuff too - not as much as Kabru, but then, who does! Like, take his succubus chapter dream with the winged lion, it's about people and monsters and the end of hunger. he doesn't just imagine a place where he can be accepted, he's thinking about what people need to live and about communities. But I don't think Kabru's totally wrong either. The little drawing with the stones weighing down Laois... he'd definitely struggle with a lot of those things when running Melini if he didn't have Kabru and Yaad and Marcille! And the soft skills he lacks are important to being a leader. So I understand Kabru's doubts. This is a manga about doubting and misunderstanding others, after all.

But despite being uncertain of Laios and the risk that Thistle getting away poses -

He tackles Mithrun into a pit!!!! (Lawful Neutral my ASS. Sorry. Sorry)

Rather than let the canaries take care of things, even if they were about to succeed, he'd rather take the risk of failure upon himself and find the truth out.

Even though the dungeon is scary and he hates it, and even though he nearly dies (and does die!) and even though he isn't sure about Laois, he's taking the risky bet on truth and agency over the safety and protection of someone who doesn't really understand or respect him

And because he took this risk and sabotaged the canaries, at this point and later, and shared the truth about the dungeon with Laios, and got the elves to cooperate - Laois understood what the demon was. Because Laois understood what the demon was, he was able to beat it. Kabru was right! The knowledge that he was after was important, and ultimately, seeking it out made him instrumental in preventing a tragedy like Utaya from ever happening again, possibly permanently.

[bonefall]

Would a cleric be allowed to help their sibling conceive a litter? Like a lesbian couple wants a litter, one had a brother who can help her mate get pregnant, but he's the cleric, would him helping be viewed as a violation of his vow? Would it depend on how Thistle leaning the clan is? Assuming that the biological sire was revealed for whatever reason.

This is one of those areas that's probably illegal, but realistically speaking, what authority is going to do anything about this? The Cleric is the most dangerous part about invoking Queen's Rights, because if they're made aware of it, the CLERIC is the one who determines if that was a voiding of QR or not.

...But, if somehow it was revealed by a 4th party, yes it is generally seen as a violation of the vow. Though it will also massively depend on the political leanings of the Clan at the time, like you guessed. It's also subject to some biological unfairness; it would be treated a lot more harshly if the Cleric was gestating kittens, rather than siring them.

Interestingly enough though? I think in this situation, particularly religious Traditionalist cats are actually going to argue the hardest that it does not violate the Cleric's Vow.

See, Fire Alone cats are "extreme" politically because they usually think the systems are bad. Thistle Law cats are extreme in the other direction because they think the systems aren't harsh enough. If you were speaking to a Fire Alone supporter about this as a thought experiment, they might say something like;

"Yes, it does violate the Cleric's Vow, because that Vow is supposed to be about being unbiased against your own family. You must value something about your blood if it matters enough to lend that kind of help. But this law is stupid."

Meanwhile a Thistle Law supporter, IF they were making a rational argument, would say something more like,

"Yes it violates the Cleric's Vow, and this is exactly why the Queen's Rights should be abolished. How can we trust a Cleric to relay StarClan's messages without bias when they can hide a secret like this? They will prioritize their own kittens over the rest of the Clan."

The argument from the hypothetical religious Traditionalist, for completion's sake, might look like this;

"It is StarClan's prerogative to judge them for this, if it goes unrevealed. If a Cleric quietly provided fertility services for a yearning parent or mateship, they likely checked with StarClan in the first place."

But there's so many ways to have an opinion on the Queen's Rights that it might be better to check in with individual cats! Even within a political "leaning," cats have their own values, biases, and beliefs to take into account.

As a final note though, none of this applies to SkyClan. SkyClan just straightup does not care about the Cleric's Vow, they split off before its legal ratification during the beginning of the Ripple Era and the social taboo that preceded it died during their exile. This is Forest Four culture.

[fumifooms]

Is there an archive for all of your analysis? I want to read them in order 🙇‍♀️

I was gonna say yes and link you to the in-built tumblr blog archive with my tag ‘analysis’ but then I remembered I tag inconsistently. Oops! So here is a huh, attempt. Chronological order is less important imo than topic but for what it’s worth the oldest are the ones to the left. Gonna pin this. This got too much for Tumblr to handle so unfortunately I have to split between reblogs.

This is all for Dunmeshi because I haven’t done nearly as many analyses for anything else. Divided by post type and topic but I do repeats when relevant. My older ones tend to be less polished so uh apologies for that, I’ll put my favorite ones in bold. Looking back there are a lot of posts I’d like to either streamline or remake more complete... Many of this contain spoilers so for that be careful and refer to individual tags.

Masterposts: laimar crumbs (discontinued) - marchil crumbs - Chilchuck’s family - beastkin tattoos - Nakamoto household

Compilations: Marcille’s smile to Laios - Izu dad Chilchuck - Laios bragging faces - Teasing Marcille gone wrong - Chilchuck drunk/drinking - Chilchuck being crass - Chilchuck hugs (incomplete) - Kaka - Hien & Benichidori - Marcille & Chilchuck worsties (incomplete) - Chilchuck old man posture (incomplete) - Chilchuck's type 🤨 (incomplete) - Chilchuck wristwatch - Helki - Marcille and Chilchuck parenting Izutsumi

LAIOS: Succubus scene analysis - Laios-Shuro fight analysis - Izu-Laios relationship analysis - autism & the nonhuman - Laios' nightmare aka autistic existential horror - Laios and chimeras

MARCILLE: Mothers & mom friend Marcille - Chil & Marcille contrasts & parallels - love languages - Marcille and separation - Marcille's view of Chilchuck - Marcille and romance - Marcille and being a burden

CHILCHUCK: Chil’s sense of humor - Chil & Marcille contrasts & parallels - love languages - Chilchuck is underweight - Chilchuck’s family masterpost - Chil’s wife’s appearance - Chilchuck character analysis speedrun - Ask: Chil & wife and change - Ask: Chilchuck, good husband? - Chilchuck’s succubus - the importance of law - getting hired & job description - Chil's buckle shirt & wardrobe - Chilchuck, family & alcoholism - Chilchuck & guilt - Chilchuck and drinking: when and how - Chilchuck in song lyrics

IZUTSUMI: Mothers & mom friend Marcille - Izu-Laios relationship analysis - Nakamoto household masterpost - Izu & alcohol

FALIN: fairy’s child parallels - short Falin analysis - Falin who cares too much and too little - Thistle & Falin - Trans Falin

THISTLE: clown costume & belonging (+ read tags) - Homegrown (web weaving) - Thistle & Delgal and death - Yaad & Thistle - Thistle & Falin

TOSHIRO: Nakamoto household masterpost - Toshiro likes bugs + Falin relevance - Toshiro’s succubus - Trans Toshiro (and Falin) - parallels to Kuro and Forva

Minor characters: Lycion’s dysmorphia + follow-up on his past addiction - Kaka compilation - Chil’s daughters & party brotps - Nakamoto household masterpost (every related character including Toshiro's family members) - Hien’s younger sister - unnamed buzzcut gold-stripper - Dandan - a Hien reading - Yaad & Thistle - Chil's daughters and marriage - Helki - unnamed canary with eye tattoo) - Kuro parallels

Gen: Reactions to the dark magic resurrection

Marcille & Chilchuck: marchil crumbs - contrasts & parallels (not ship) - Taking care of each other sick - Marcille & Chil’s daughters - their love languages (ship but analytical focus) - pre-canon dynamic (not ship) - astrology (ship & short) - Chilchuck's type 🤨 - waxing poetic (good summary) - marchil from Marcille's end - Marcille and romance - marchil & stability

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 13 Part 2

Welcome back! Things are about to get crazy, so let's dive right in!

Is it any wonder the community unanimously decided this was Marcille's chimera-sona? She's cute, she's sky-fish adjacent, she has a flower crown (A hallmark of only the most mentally stable characters). What's not to love? And as Mithrun will agree, snake women are sexy.

Later, Kabru suspects Laios stumbled into saving the world, but my man was seriously planning six steps ahead. He came up with the ultimate plan to kill the ultimate monster.

Marcille is understandably upset that the lion stole her cool outfit. She wanted to show that to Falin later!

Nothing personal kid.

The demon isn't malevolent my ass. It knows what Mithrun wants. It just can't be assed to bother.

I know the right page is the important one, but oh my god. Laios, did you seriously doodle blueprints of your stupid "Falin lives in a hole now" plan? Did you seriously doodle your "female faligon" idea?

Anyway, as is tradition with ultimate chimera appearances, here is another one of my creatures!

I'll leave it to the viewer to try and figure out what inspired this freak.

Of course Laios' takeaway from the succubus was that Scyllas are cool. Fun fact, some of these details are actually relevant. The ability to change shape is apparently how he managed to return to human form, and the poop thing explains why New Melini is forested despite being underwater for 1000 years.

Marcille isn't even surprised at this point. Just deeply disappointed.

Toshiro, why are you smiling? Kabru, that looks more like awe than fear.

Bitch, I'm fabulous.

Marcille, you're the one who created the monster that vores people, that's it's whole job.

Don't worry Marcille. This disaster is due to an incredibly complex confluence of unpredictable events. In other words, it's everybody's fault! Hooray!

God, this is so funny.

Leave my boy alone! At least we can all agree the collar is cool.

Oh, that's a neat detail. Time is stopped for all the humans, but the monsters can still move.

When I first read this, I thought the plan was that now that the lion is in a finite body, we can eat it. Like, I thought that was how it was going to end as soon as they swapped. But Laios is way ahead of me.

Good to see the rest of the party came to the same conclusion I did. And Marcille's eyes are still on the prize.

Famous last words.

Rude.

Yeah, but we're expressing a desire regarding his treatment you raging douche-muffin. You're freaking infinite. We've seen you have the power to pacify monsters peacefully.

It's so fitting, that Laios, our favorite dog, saved the world by eating something he really shouldn't have.

👏Full Circle!👏

Oh Marcille. I'd have thought you'd have learned by now to have a little more faith in your brother-in-law.

Ah, dungeon food. To eat is the privilege of the living. There is no hierarchy.

That sounds like the words of a loser to me.

And that's it for volume 13! Didn't have as much to say as I thought I might. Guess this climax speaks for itself. What a powerful and thematic ending to the demon. See why I'm having trouble figuring out what direction to take my AU? Figuring out the changes to monster of the week chapters is easy. Figuring out how to do the big thematic battles against Thistle and the Demon are hard. It's hard to imagine anyone but Laios prevailing against such opponents.

Anyway, see you next time for the finale! Here, have a couple of extra Marcilles. I thought I would need more of them.

Cannibalism?

A precious image.

[britcision]

Happy Leap Year friends! Another little present from me to you, this time we have a totally sweet little story about Pattadol and Marcille bonding over who is actually bravest 🥰

Just. Don’t look at Kabru and Lycion behind the curtain.

(I cannot be the only person who finds it suspicious that Mithrun was notorious for specifically his warden colleagues dying.)

Warnings: implied past unspecified abuse, definitely actual past murder, abuse of power over prisoners

——————

After Dinner Mints - Death Rates

Honestly, Marcille had to admit that she quite liked Pattadol. Even when they’d both been operating under the assumption that Marcille would be going back west with them as a prisoner, the elf hadn’t treated her badly.

She was kind, a little nervous, and honestly seemed even more out of her depth than Marcille felt. So it had been a bit of a relief that the other Canaries had apparently decided that Pattadol would be her arresting officer.

She probably wouldn’t have been able to relax if the captain had been the one to keep an eye on her; either Captain Mithrun or Captain Flamela, who just seemed lost now that she had nothing to be angry about.

They’d got to talking even that first day, and Pattadol had admitted that the Island’s dungeon had been her first ever mission with the Canaries. First, and probably last, which none of them really knew what to do about.

And then Laios had gone to the Canaries and just told them that he’d be keeping Marcille unless they actually wanted to explain ancient magic to him, which absolutely everyone knew wasn’t going to happen.

So Marcille was sort of, kind of free now.

(Privately, she wasn’t going to count on anything until Laios had died; elves could afford to wait out one human. Maybe even a few generations, if Laios had children or enshrined her place in law.

That wouldn’t be too bad though; she wasn’t sure she’d want to stay in Melini without her friends. But they had decades ahead of them, so she wasn’t going to worry about it yet.)

All of the free Canaries were avoiding her now though, all except Pattadol, who wasn’t exactly comfortable talking to them either. Almost all of them were a century older and decades more experienced than she was, and while she’d officially been blooded in a dungeon now and been part of destroying all of the dungeons… well, it turned out she was actually closer to Marcille’s age than her fellow Canaries by a lot.

Marcille was pretty sure someone had been ordered to keep an eye on her; it didn’t feel like a coincidence that one or two Canary convicts tagged along to whatever she was doing.

(That was weird too; these were the people who understood the most about ancient magic, and Marcille would have loved to just sit and talk theory with them all day. They’d been forced to direct all of their skills to dungeon breaking, sure, but still.

Any one of them could have a useful insight, resources she’d only ever been denied! Which, they’d been denied too. Obviously. And then found anyway.

The thing was… even the ones who actually cared about the magic itself seemed to have split themselves into two camps when it came to her; they all thought she was still a child, since she was fifty.

But some of them insisted on treating her like she also didn’t know what she was talking about, like she hadn’t been the ruler of the dungeon and directly linked to the infinite the ancients had pulled from, like she hadn’t pulled off a resurrection that should have been impossible! And would have worked perfectly, if Thistle hadn’t come along.

And the others treated her like a cute little kid, maybe one who’d done something impressive, but in general someone to indulge and not take too seriously.)

So. She liked Pattadol, who treated her like an equal, and she didn’t mind talking while they both worked. Marcille actually had more dungeon experience than Pattadol, which definitely helped even if no one would ever be getting any more.

Which was how they’d gotten onto the subject of deaths in the dungeon.

“Oh, my first death was to a slime on the very first floor,” Marcille admitted with a laugh, fondly remembering how excited she’d been. Honestly, flooding the planet with mana would probably have sounded like a good idea back then.

Pattadol smiled along, but didn’t quite manage a laugh. Then again, her first death had almost been to Marcille, in a roundabout way.

“Honestly, I can’t imagine the bravery it takes to go into a dungeon so unprepared… we train for years to be ready, and people told me so many times about the captain’s other partners, but I was still so scared when I thought it would actually happen…”

It reminded Marcille of something Senshi had said, a while back. Not liking how comfortable adventurers became with death… then she paused, something else the elf had said catching in her mind.

“The captain’s other partners? What about them?” She looked around on reflex, but the only member of the squad nearby was Fleki, who was busily chatting up someone with a fresh basket of mushrooms.

Pattadol did laugh this time, an embarrassed little sound and flicked her hair back off her face.

“Oh, not our convicts… actually, most of them have been with him for a while, only Cithis arrived just before me. I mean the other wardens. Captain Mithrun has… had a reputation, because a lot of his other partners died,” she explained with a slightly sheepish smile.

Marcille’s brows furrowed.

“Well, sure, but that happens a lot in the dungeons. People die and then they get brought back, it happens all the time,” she pointed out. Pattadol forced another laugh, most of her attention now firmly on the dough she was kneading.

“Oh, yes, for other people. But ah… when we go into a dungeon, it’s usually to close it? So if the mission is successful, but someone isn’t revived before it’s over, they… sometimes can’t be? And Captain Mithrun lost a lot of partners… which wasn’t his fault, obviously! He’s incredibly skilled; he had never actually died in a dungeon at all until you…” she trailed off again, and Marcille ducked her head and got back to kneading too.

The rhythmic, firm motions helped anyway. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually blown a person’s head open. It had seemed so necessary at the time, like she didn’t have a choice, but… still.

Still, the rest of what Pattadol had said kept running around and around in her head.

Going into the dungeon, walking down to face those monsters and knowing that if everything went right… you could die and stay dead. That had to take a lot more courage than any of the adventurers that made their living in dungeons.

Finally she couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“You know, there was something Senshi said about the dungeon too while we were in it… he never liked resurrections, because they made people not care or think about dying. That when people stop believing that death matters, they get out of step with the cycles of nature.”

Pattadol made a soft noise of encouragement, and Marcille looked up enough to give her a quick smile.

“I was never scared of dying in the dungeon because I never thought it was going to count. I died my very first time, and all it did was make me excited with the possibilities of magic down there. I think what you did was actually much braver than what I did… I don’t know if I could have gone down believing I would die forever.”

This time she got a smile that she actually believed, Pattadol’s cheeks flushing pink. She really was quite pretty, in an awkward sort of way. It reminded Marcille of Falin, when she got flustered.

“Thank you… you know, not many Canaries have ever retired without having been killed in the dungeon at least once, it’s quite an honour. It might just be me and Captain Flamela now,” she added thoughtfully, and Marcille grinned back.

“Then I’m even more glad that you did survive the dungeon, because she already seems hard enough to live with,” she teased, and maybe she’d been hanging around with Laios too much to even have the thought, but Pattadol’s scandalized gasp and nearly dropping her bread bowl made her laugh long and loud.

**

Kabru slipped away from the two elves thoughtfully, an armful of dirty dish-ware in hand. He hadn’t intended to spy on Marcille and Pattadol; he wasn’t even sure it could count as spying.

They hadn’t kept their voices down, or seemed to care if anyone heard them. He’d just wandered by, and happened to overhear.

And one thing stuck out to him like a sore thumb.

He hurried back through to drop off the dishes for cleaning, barely giving a smile and a wave before hurrying back to the dragon’s clearing. Although, he didn’t think this was something he would be able to ask Mithrun…

The captain might not even know, but from what Kabru understood, he’d been assigned Otta and Lycion before any of the others, and Lycion was currently keeping an eye on Captain Mithrun in case he collapsed.

Kabru was… about sixty percent sure that Lycion liked him. It was hard to tell, but even when they’d disagreed (and when Kabru had been directly getting in his way) the elf had been more mildly irritated than angry.

More importantly though, Kabru was pretty sure he knew what buttons to push to get Lycion to talk. It was actually kinda nice; a lot of Captain Mithrun’s squad seemed to have followed the captain’s example, and were pretty open with information if they didn’t have a reason to keep quiet.

Lycion and Fleki especially enjoyed oversharing, especially if it could get a rise from anyone. Kabru didn’t mind giving them one, if it got him what he needed. Half the time it was less feigned than he might like of course.

He was in luck as Lycion already looked bored, lounging against a tree while Mithrun busily hacked his way down a dragon’s ribcage. The hole he was digging was already past his thighs. The pile of frozen meat inside wasn’t too high, so Kabru hurried directly over to relieve the elf.

Lycion perked up when he saw him, giving a nod and straightening to smile.

“Hey, Kabru. Did you wanna take over with the captain? I had him down for some water a couple of hours ago, but he’s probably due another break soon.”

And, well, that was the other thing he could use as leverage. Apparently Kabru was the only person not in the captain’s squad that Captain Flamela had approved to keep an eye on Mithrun, and absolutely all of them were happy to trade a favour for taking a shift.

(Kabru didn’t mind, actually. He wasn’t a great cook, and really didn’t want to touch the dragon meat more than he could help, and in his books keeping an eye on Captain Mithrun beat running pots and pans around or doing dishes.

Although he was pretty sure all four convicts used him taking their turn as an opportunity to go nap, run into town, or cause trouble instead of actually helping.)

So he beamed back at Lycion, bright and welcoming.

“Sure! Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you first, if you don’t mind?” He asked brightly.

Lycion sighed as if heavily put upon, and leaned back against his tree. He was still smiling though, so Kabru didn’t worry about it.

“Yeah, sure. What’s on your mind?”

Kabru closed the last of the distance between them, glancing around to make sure they were alone. Or at least, not being observed by anyone who would care.

“Oh, it’s just something Pattadol said, about a lot of Captain Mithrun’s warden partners dying.” Watching closely, Kabru caught the moment where the elf froze, his relaxed posture suddenly deliberately, carefully lax.

So he wasn’t wrong, then.

Brightening his smile, he did his best “eager and excited child” impression, which usually went down well with elves.

“I was just wondering how that happened, since you were so quick rushing to retrieve everyones’ bodies when you were… when the others fell while we were waiting for backup,” he stumbled a little feebly over the end, remembering the shaky ground he’d stood on at the time.

Sure, he’d joined the fight and helped as best he could once Laios had been found, but he’d probably been headed back to Milsiril in disgrace right before that.

The look Lycion shot him told him the elf remembered all too well, but oddly he didn’t take the obvious diversion. Instead he cocked his head, giving Kabru a thoughtful look.

“Oh? What did Pattadol say, exactly?” He asked with a carefully studied innocence that Kabru immediately latched onto.

Lycion would feign ignorance with his usual untroubled smile, but this felt different. He matched the tone as best he could, leaning against the tree beside the elf.

“Oh, she was talking about how once you successfully close a dungeon sometimes you can’t bring people back. It sounded really worrying, but I didn’t think closing a dungeon was that spur of the moment. Like you rescued Pattadol from the giant mushrooms before she went down, and said it’d be a pain if Water Walk fell on the others but you could still get them?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, he caught the jump of muscle in Lycion’s jaw. Yeah, people usually didn’t like when Kabru showed how much he’d been paying attention.

For a moment, he wondered if he wasn’t going to get an answer after all. If he’d finally reached the end of Lycion’s laid back patience.

Then the elf hummed softly and Kabru chanced a glance over to see him staring at the sky.

“Did you know that before your little friend blew his head off, Captain Mithrun had never died in a dungeon?”

Kabru flinched. It wasn’t like he’d been on Marcille’s… the dungeon lord’s side at any stage. He just… hadn’t wanted it all to be swept under the rug. Before he could speak though, Lycion waved a hand at him.

“Relax. It’s… pertinent. You also know how we Canary prisoners are bound, right?”

Still wary but willing to wait, Kabru nodded.

“You can only use magic with permission from a warden. You were already transformed, though.” He didn’t think Lycion would be forced back into an elf shape without a warden, but he wasn’t exactly an expert.

Lycion shook his head though.

“Not the point. I don’t really do much healing magic anyway, even with permission. We all learn a bit, basic wound healing and poison stuff, but I can’t even do a simple revival. Pattadol’s…” he paused, searching for a word, then sighed. “She’s annoying, and formal, and over eager and a pain in the ass, but she’s one of the good ones. And a damn good healer.”

Kabru couldn’t help but agree with that; he hadn’t gotten an up close look at what Marcille had done to Captain Mithrun, but enough people who had had come to congratulate her after everything was over that he had to believe them.

Lycion nodded along with him.

“So. Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re a Canary prisoner. You always need at least one warden alive and up to give the orders to fight or heal. And, one way or another, you’ve gotten assigned to a captain who’s a bit weird. A bit high maintenance. But they leave you alone for the most part, no weird orders or creep shit, and they’re the scariest fucker you’ve ever seen in a dungeon. Nothing seems to touch them. So you can be pretty sure, that guy is going to stay up.”

He cocked his head enough to raise a brow at Kabru, who nodded slowly, already trying to work ahead. To see where the story was going.

He kind of didn’t like what he was seeing.

Lycion nodded again.

“Yeah. I can see you’re with me. And you’re thinking our lives aren’t worth theirs, right?” He asked, still with that dreamy smile on his face.

Kabru stiffened and frowned, looking away reflexively. It. Wasn’t that, he didn’t think anyone deserved… what Lycion was implying, for any crime. It just.

“There have to be rules, don’t there?” He asked quickly, spitting the words out before Lycion could keep going, could say anything else. Could think that maybe he would be on the side of that kind of person. “That kind of abuse of power can’t be allowed.”

Lycion chuckled softly, draping an arm easily around Kabru’s shoulders.

“You’re a cute kid. Yeah, there’s all kinds of rules. Regulations, punishment for anyone who gets caught. But in the end, if it’s a warden’s word against a prisoner, who do you think is believed?” He asked lightly, as if they were discussing what to have for dinner.

Kabru flinched again, caught himself hunching, and forced himself to straighten.

“Captain Mithrun wouldn’t…” and then he stopped, wondering. He was completely certain that Mithrun would never perpetrate that kind of abuse, or approve of it. But… the man couldn’t even eat or sleep on his own.

Lycion gave him a friendly pat on the chest.

“Oh, he wouldn’t tolerate anything that’d affect the mission. Damn hard to get too creepy with that dead eyed stare on you, too,” he agreed cheerfully, raising a hand to wave at the captain.

Then he turned just a little, facing Kabru so that no one else could see his face. Lowered his voice so that even Kabru strained to hear him.

“Unless that’s what you like. Not all of them were giving us trouble,” he added quietly, darkly, and Kabru’s eyes widened, staring past him to the captain, still placidly cutting in his hole.

The captain, who didn’t care where he slept, what he ate, or about anything at all.

A sudden surge of anger and disgust washed through him. Lycion chuckled softly, nodding and leaning in until he was talking directly into Kabru’s ear.

“Not everyone took working under a former dungeon lord well, and while we did the grunt work, it was the other warden’s job to make sure he was alright for a while. They didn’t all like that, either. We lose a lot of people in dungeons, and…” he shrugged, his voice still lazy and calm, and Kabru’s fists clenched, “we’re not against losing a few more.”

Suddenly Kabru was pretty sure things had gotten a lot more direct than just not finding someone’s body. And if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t all that different from some of the things he’d done.

So why should it make a difference if it was for the captain or for the convicts?

Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded stiffly, then blew out his tension along with it. Lycion straightened like nothing had happened, still all smiles, and Kabru caught his hand before he could pull back.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m… glad you had each other.” It didn’t feel adequate, but there was nothing that he could say that would be, or that wouldn’t break their careful bubble of deniability.

Lycion grinned at him, turning and leaning back against the tree again. Out beyond him, Mithrun had actually paused of his own volition and was watching them. Lycion gave him a wave and Kabru fixed a brighter smile onto his face.

“Of course, some of them we did properly lose by accident. There’s all kinds of weird shit a dungeon can do to you to make you impossible to resurrect,” the elf noted cheerfully, nodding towards the hole hiding the remaining mass of Falin, “and I’m pretty sure someone was onto us come the end. We got Cithis… two dungeons ago, I got switched under our other warden, and that one… well, they’d worked with Cithis before. Otta reckons she held a grudge, but I think they were just reckless. They’re fine, retired now,” he added quickly, but Kabru hadn’t planned to ask.

He nodded slowly, watching the captain turn and get back to his cutting. He’d not believed that the Canaries were all noble heroes for a very long time; Milsiril and Helki hadn’t actively discouraged it, but they’d been sure to warn him when he first said he’d wanted to join.

He’d known the kinds of crimes the convicts were usually in for, and long suspected that at least some of the wardens could be corrupted by the amount of power they held over them. Honestly, Lycion hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t already wondered about.

Captain Mithrun’s people just got away with more because their captain honestly didn’t give a shit.

He mulled the thought over for a while, and though he was pretty sure he had the shape of the answer… it didn’t hurt to check.

“You’re very loyal to the captain,” he noted quietly, letting his voice stay soft. It was something he’d noted in the dungeon, at pretty much every turn; Mithrun’s convicts didn’t treat him like a warden, or their jailor. Especially not the way they treated Pattadol, which was full of surface level respect with barely concealed eye rolling.

They treated him as something like an older sibling, or a family friend. Someone to be respected, yes, but not bother with formalities for. Someone they cared about, and cared for in the ways he needed with patience and a fond inevitability.

(In all honesty, Kabru wished he’d seen more of how Cithis in particular usually cared for him; it had been second nature to make sure the captain ate and slept after the week they’d spent together, and he’d kept on being his primary caregiver even after the other Canaries caught up.

Looking back on it, he’d rationalized it by assuming that it was still part of his penance, and that if he didn’t make himself useful they’d just give up the pretence and tie him up the whole time. In actuality… he hadn’t questioned why they passed the captain’s food to him first, or let him take the lead on rest.

Now, he was pretty sure they were intentionally fobbing the captain off on him to slack off since he’d done a good job, even if technically all four convicts were still on the roster with him. Which meant he actually didn’t know anything about how they usually handled him.)

Lycion chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair.

“Does that surprise you? We know a good thing when we have it,” he noted lightly and Kabru nodded slowly, wondering… how to ask without saying the question.

“Honestly? Yes. I understand wanting to keep him alive, and the extra expectations Captain Mithrun needs. I understand the risks of dungeon breaking and trauma bonding, I just… I suppose I’m surprised by how much you care,” he finished with a shy little smile, carefully calculated to flatter.

And Lycion just snickered, reaching up to ruffle Kabru’s hair instead.

“Never, ever let Cithis hear you say that,” he teased… no, that was probably actually a sincere warning, there was too much gravity in his eyes. Kabru noted it obediently.

For a long moment, he thought he’d have to try again, kept trying to frame words to the shape of what he actually wanted to know that didn’t make it sound so… cold. Before he could, though, Lycion had shrugged and straightened, turning to face him again.

“Cithis excepted, obviously, none of us are heartless. The captain is… safe for us, sure, but it’s not just that. He treats me… well, as normally as he treats anyone; he doesn’t look down on me for my body, and so long as I don’t get into trouble he never asks why I want to change. He lets Fleki take her familiar out whenever she wants to, doesn’t bother Otta about her constant flirting with half-foot women, and I’ll deny ever saying this if you tell her, but I do think even Cithis is fond of him,” the elf added, pointing warningly at Kabru.

Who just barely remembered to nod in time, his mind already spinning with questions, calculations, new information. They’d been pretty open with him in the dungeon, answered any questions he actually dared to ask, but…

Well, one of the things Kabru had always wished for was people just telling him how their minds worked. He might still be sceptical of how much he could understand an elf, but this might be as close as he ever got.

Lycion seemed to approve anyway, chuckling again and flicking a ponytail over his shoulder, glancing back to look fondly at the captain.

“He does whatever she wants, when we’re not in the dungeon. Which, y’know, takes all the fun out of it on her side, but I think she respects that he could tell her no but doesn’t bother. It’s not that he cares to make us happy; we know he doesn’t. But he accepts us as we are. Doesn’t try to shame us, or make us feel shitty for whatever crimes we committed.” Lycion paused at that, his brows furrowing for a moment. “Actually, I don’t even know if he knows. They’ll have told him every time, obviously, but if he remembers he’s never said.”

And then, like there was just a string connecting word to action, the elf just walked away. Wandered a little closer to the still frozen pit of dragon.

“Hey, Captain! Do you know what I’m in for?” He yelled, turning the heads of everyone currently collecting the meat Captain Mithrun was dicing. It was piling up at the inner edge of the pit again, and starting to get trickier to haul out.

Realizing that his mouth was hanging open, Kabru closed it quickly (his mother used to warn him a bug would fly in) and hurried after the elf, unsure what he’d hope to accomplish. Unsure what the hell Lycion was looking to accomplish.

For a minute it didn’t look like he’d even gotten Mithrun’s attention, and then the rapid teleporting stopped, Mithrun turning with another thin sheet of flesh in his hands. He squinted at Lycion like he was trying to remember who the elf was… and remembering their encounter with the shapeshifter, Kabru wouldn’t have been surprised if it was true.

Then he shrugged and tossed the sheet aside too.

“You’re our beastman.” And he bent, knocked the loose slabs of flesh aside, and pulled up his cloak to keep going.

Lycion clapped his hands and laughed, turning back to Kabru like he’d just won a prize.

“See? Isn’t he something? Other people keep doing stupid things like asking why I’d want my infinitely superior body, but he just loves me as I am, don’t you Captain?”

The captain did not deign to respond, but Lycion clearly didn’t care. Hurrying back into whispering range, Kabru chanced the direct question. While the elf was in a good mood.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you in for?” He asked quietly, and once again Lycion gave him a look a little sharper than his usual calm.

Then he shrugged and gestured to his torso.

“Oh, I have a life sentence. Can’t stop having an illegally modified body, so it’s not like they can let me go.” He paused, brow creasing momentarily before relaxing. “Oh yeah, and the murders. Probably some assault charges. It’s been a while since I saw my rap sheet.”

Aware that his mouth was hanging open again, Kabru closed it quickly.

It. Wasn’t that he was shocked, honestly. No one was sentenced to the Canaries for minor offences, though Lycion may have been right about his transformation being what forced him in; regular murderers weren’t eligible for service.

It just. Wasn’t what he’d expected. Either the crimes or the light, airy tones Lycion spoke about them in, like none of it mattered. The elf even laughed at the look on his face.

“Oh, relax. Most of them were in totally consensual pit fights, first floor of a dungeon and everything. Apparently it counts as homicide even if you can all get resurrected,” he added with a roll of his eyes, like they weren’t discussing actual murder.

“Or maybe you were convicted for the ones that weren’t?” Kabru felt compelled to ask, and Lycion actually looked honestly thoughtful.

“Y’know, that might be it. Mostly I’m still in for being too beautiful for this world though,” he preened, flicking long silver hair around again. And then one eye slid sideways to lock onto Kabru, and Kabru would swear it was the wolf’s. “So you know what’s coming to you if you hurt the Captain.”

About to try to get back on track, Kabru was abruptly dumbfounded.

“I… you… was that a threat?” He asked weakly, mind playing back over all the rest of their conversation. He had thought Lycion was being remarkably candid… but why would he think Kabru even could hurt the captain?

The elf chuckled softly, the light sound suddenly much more menacing than before as he patted Kabru on the shoulder.

“If Milsiril ever asks, no. And if you ever do anything to hurt the captain, in any way, you’re going to need to run straight back under her skirts as fast as you can,” he told Kabru sweetly, his smile still gentle and warm, his eyes dangerously cold, “I know your scent. You can’t hide from me.”

And then he cocked his head and the moment passed, and Kabru would swear he saw his pupils round out to a human shape again.

“So, was that all you wanted to ask? I’ll take the captain for a bathroom break before I head out, and then Fleki should be along in a couple of hours for dinner,” Lycion asked brightly, for all the world as if they’d been discussing the weather. Or, maybe, asking for advice.

It felt entirely inappropriate, but Kabru laughed in spite of himself.

What the actual fuck was his life? How had any of this ever happened to him? He’d left Milsiril thoroughly convinced that a long-lived person could never truly understand a short-lived one, and yet…

An illegal werewolf just gave him a fucking shovel talk. On top of admitting to numerous other murders, which did lend an air of sincerity that Kabru had to admire.

And, in all honesty, Kabru was quite sure he’d never understood anyone more in his life than he did Lycion in that moment.

(Well, possibly still not the whole “preferring a beastman body” thing, but he was also wise enough to understand that he didn’t need to see the appeal personally; just to understand that Lycion clearly did. And, apparently, had made some pretty persuasive arguments about the benefit that body had for others to at least Fleki and Mithrun.

Kabru was blatantly refusing to even discuss beastmen in Laios’ vicinity, because he was well aware the fucker would have all kinds of potential details and information and the greatest curse of Kabru’s life was his all-encompassing hunger for knowledge. Given the chance, he’d ask.

And he was pretty sure he would not let himself survive the answers.)

It might just have been the ongoing nervous breakdown they’d all been going through in fits and starts, but Kabru couldn’t stop laughing long enough to draw breath, tears welling in his eyes.

Lycion caught him as he sagged, giving him a cheerful pat on the back.

“I’m going to call that a good sign,” the elf declared as Kabru clung to him, because it was that or sit on the forest floor and laugh til he puked.

And then abruptly Lycion shifted, growing larger and hairier (probably to support Kabru’s weight; they were about the same height, but he had a tallman’s more solid build and bone density), and their gentle sway was brought to a stop.

Finally regaining at least a little self control (or being swamped under new curiosity, possibly), Kabru giggled himself to a stop and managed to look up and see Captain Mithrun standing in front of them, apparently out of the pit of his own accord.

He looked… a little confused, honestly, his head cocked to one side as he studied Kabru with an intensity that suddenly made him very self conscious.

“Are you alright?” The captain asked, apparently blatantly unaware that it was the most interest he’d ever showed in Kabru, and definitely unaware that he was contributing to Lycion getting entirely the wrong idea. “Sometimes Fleki gives mushrooms to people and this happens.”

His mouth already opening to form the question, Kabru abruptly decided against it.

He could hunt Fleki down later and ask for more details… or Otta or Lycion, honestly, since even when he’d been threatening to kill him Lycion still apparently liked him.

He. Did he just get Lycion’s blessing to date the captain? That was what that kind of gesture usually meant for tallmen, in a roundabout way.

A grudging one, sure, but the unspoken part of “if you hurt this person I care about” was “because I accept you’re important to them enough to hurt them”. That… might be a cultural difference between elves and tallmen, but Kabru doubted it.

It was actually really sweet in its own way, and the idea of even trying to explain to the captain made him want to shrivel up and die, so Kabru just smiled at him and nodded.

“I’m alright… Lycion was just explaining more about the dungeons you used to seal, and he said something about my step-mother that caught me off guard.” It was mostly the truth, even, so Kabru firmly told himself he did not feel bad even when Captain Mithrun’s lower lip slid out in a pout.

It probably wasn’t actually intentional that he turned a very reproachful eye on Lycion; Captain Mithrun wouldn’t have bothered using puppy eyes on anyone on purpose, but that didn’t make it less effective (or Kabru less glad that it wasn’t on him).

Lycion just grinned, straightening Kabru and pushing him back to his feet, and then ruffling his hair with all that stolen werebeast height.

“Kabru came to see if he could help you, Captain, and I promised to tell him some more stories about Milsiril and Fleki later. You know, the one where Fleki tried to get her to take mushrooms and manipulate dolls with her?”

And honestly Kabru almost missed the moment where the switch of the Captain’s attention flipped, he was so pointedly not watching his every move so that Lycion didn’t get the wrong idea.

(He would probably get that story out of him later though. Just. For continuity’s sake. Definitely not burning curiosity.)

But he didn’t. Not the slight widening of his eye when Lycion said Kabru was here to help, or the way he completely ignored the entire rest of the sentence, his gaze tracking back to Kabru as something curious and warm. The slight smile that pulled at his lips.

“Oh?” It wasn’t even a full question, just a sound of curiosity.

Kabru found himself returning the smile without thinking, his own carefully practiced smile becoming something real. There really was something charming in Mithrun’s complete lack of artifice.

Everything he managed to feel wrote itself across his entire face, perhaps muted compared to anyone else, but still so powerful from him alone. Every expression felt like a tiny victory against the demon.

Unfortunately, he was also very aware that Lycion was now looming over the pair of them, and he had more than enough practice with kobolds to know when a fucking wolfman was grinning at him. Smugly.

Trying to defend himself would only make things worse, so Kabru took a leaf from the Captain’s book and made a show of ignoring him entirely.

“Yes, if you don’t mind, Captain? No one else seems to need me around here, and I’d like to be useful.” That was even mostly true too, and Captain Mithrun especially had to know why Kabru didn’t think he was remotely qualified for cooking.

He’d kept them both alive for the week, sure, but the hardtack had been a blessing. There was no greater condemnation of his culinary skills.

The captain watched him for a long moment, then nodded and stilled, watching Kabru expectantly. Half expecting him to go straight back to cutting, it took Kabru a moment to realize what he was doing.

Was… was the captain waiting for permission? Their changeover did usually include a list of questions that the captain barely acknowledged, but it was part of the routine. Him taking an interest could only be a good thing, couldn’t it?

Before Kabru could ask, Lycion had slung an arm around the captain’s shoulders, still grinning smugly at Kabru.

“Let’s you and I take a quick bathroom break, Captain, and then you can get back to Kabru. Unless you’d rather go with him?” It was far too innocently phrased, enough so that it even caught Captain Mithrun’s attention.

The elf twisted up just enough to squint at Lycion suspiciously, and Kabru suddenly really, really wondered what a shapeshifter would have made of the other Canaries from Mithrun’s head. He’d actually really like to know, almost enough to willingly go near a monster even.

Whatever he saw, the captain just shrugged curtly, turning to walk away.

“No, it’s fine.” And then he paused, glancing back at Kabru, and Kabru had to wonder how the elf saw him now. Still the same vague, barely human sketch? Or had their time together rendered him more memorable?

He almost missed the captain’s next words.

“If it’s time for a break again, I can also tell you stories.”

One of the orcs across the clearing swore abruptly as Kabru swore Lycion made a sound that only other canids could hear, then the wolfman had dragged the captain away cheerfully, chatting a mile a minute about stories Mithrun should tell Kabru.

And left Kabru staring after them, entirely dumbfounded.

Was… Captain Mithrun jealous that Lycion had made him laugh? Was jealousy even an emotion he could feel anymore? The elf had been so certain that the demon had eaten that out of him along with his desires, since it had apparently been one of his core features forty years ago.

Would that make it a good thing if it was coming back? After all, jealousy only happened when you wanted something that someone else had, didn’t it?

And. If the thing Captain Mithrun wanted was Kabru’s attention.

Oh no, his cheeks were flushing. He could feel it. Kabru tried to tell himself it was all Lycion’s fault, putting ideas in his head, but he was unfortunately good at spotting a liar. Even when it was himself.

Hurrying across the clearing, he busied himself carrying the most recent hunks of dragon meat up and over to the piles where Senshi was currently sorting and butchering them. Anything had to be better than wasting his time thinking impossible things.

It was probably nothing. Kabru had been laughing hard enough he’d almost taken Lycion to the ground with him, and then Lycion had transformed, which was an even bigger way to get everyones’ attention.

The captain heard they were discussing stories, and he had stories to tell. And no desire to avoid sharing them. It would keep his next break from being boring, or torturous for both of them as Kabru searched for some way to distract him.

It was that simple.

Absolutely no chance of anything else.

And, if down the line, there was a tiny chance that the captain would actually desire anyone… or maybe Kabru specifically… to pay attention to him, well, that would be fine anyway. Kabru was coming to accept that his fascination with the elf wasn’t going away even without forced isolation; it was better for Mithrun to start by wanting something that Kabru could happily and easily give.

And that was probably all there was to it.

That and a nosy, interfering, smug little shit werewolf who had apparently decided to get involved in absolutely everything that didn’t involve him and probably didn’t even exist.

Because when Captain Mithrun came back from their bathroom break, he was shirtless, wearing only the tiny shoulder-piece and sleeves over his skirt and boots . And apparently mildly confused about why he was so, handing Kabru the overlarge shirt that Kabru was rather certain was actually Laios’.

“Lycion said it would be too hot to keep working. I don’t feel hot,” he said bluntly, which Kabru always found a little funny whenever he said that sort of thing.

Who knew better than Mithrun that he couldn’t feel tired, or hungry, or hot?

But this was just silly, because it wasn’t the middle of summer anymore and the afternoon was wearing on, and Captain Mithrun always ran too cold anyway. Kabru firmly handed him the shirt back, determinedly not looking anywhere but his one dark eye.

“He’s just overheating because he’s furry, Captain. Maybe he forgot that it’s colder for those of us without a beast form?”

Which would actually probably be for the best, since Lycion never actually wore much clothing anyway; it would just be destroyed when he changed, which was as often as he could feasibly get away with. Honestly he owed Kabru already for having given him an excuse to change at all.

Captain Mithrun didn’t seem to buy it, giving Kabru a sceptical look but he accepted the shirt back and pulled it on, then shoved at the sleeves until they finally bunched in place on his arms instead of flopping down to cover his hands.

That wouldn’t help; they’d only fall down once he got moving again, and Kabru caught his hand quickly when one started to slip and irritation flashed on the elf’s face.

“Captain, let me fold those back for you. They’ll slide about less… actually, we should probably get you some clothes that fit you, don’t you have some on the ship?” Kabru asked suddenly, struck by the absurdity even as he painstakingly folded the sleeves over themselves up the captain’s surprisingly muscular arms.

The elf shot him an unimpressed look.

“I don’t need armour now.”

Done one arm, Kabru got started on the other.

“Not your armour, some casual clothes. Something you wear when you’re not on duty?”

Even less impressed, somehow, Mithrun tried to turn away.

“I only wear my uniform. I don’t need the armour now,” he reiterated, like Kabru was misunderstanding him on purpose.

Kabru’s brows furrowed. It… probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, since even when Mithrun had bathed he’d dressed straight back into that overlarge shirt. It still felt almost inconceivable.

He knew the Canaries only ever wore their uniforms when on a mission, but all the wardens got to bring a handful of personal belongings; it was one of their perks. A set of comfortable clothes for after the mission’s end was such a basic comfort…

That Mithrun wouldn’t even think of. He might not even have any personal belongings at all, which was terribly depressing.

(And if he did… what were they? Kabru would love to know, and he could certainly just ask; Mithrun had no desire not to answer. But it wouldn’t be the same as seeing those things, and how the captain treated them.)

Sighing to himself, he finished folding back the other sleeve and gave the captain a hopeful smile.

“Well, maybe that’s something we can do after you’re done today? Go into town and see if we can find some better fitted clothes, or back to the ship for your spare uniform,” he added when Mithrun cocked his head, looking confused.

Then the elf looked down at the baggy shirt, then back up to Kabru.

“This is fine,” he said slowly, like he was actually trying to look ahead and work out what Kabru’s objections would be.

His smile becoming fond and more genuine, Kabru nodded.

“It’s working, but better sleeves would get in your way less, and it’ll give us something to do while your mana recovers?” He offered instead, hoping he could appeal at least to the captain’s irritability. It was easier when he had a fixed desire.

Captain Mithrun fell silent again, his head turning as his eye slid over to Senshi, still butchering his way through the meat along with several others.

Kabru hesitated. That… was happening more and more lately. When Mithrun was unoccupied he often wandered off, but more often than not these days Kabru could find him by finding the dwarf. Which was actually really cute.

And way more convenient than scouring the island for a bored teleportation expert with no regard for his own body.

Chuckling softly, Kabru shook his head.

“Alright, instead how about we ask Pattadol to get someone to get your spare uniform, and I’ll run to get one of my old shirts in the meantime? It’ll still be too big, but at least the arms will fit better?”

The captain’s old uniform wasn’t an option; made of arachne silk or not, being back inside the spider had done something horrible to the armour tunic that absolutely refused to come out. The under-armour had managed slightly better, sleeves and skirt scrubbing down well enough, but that left him with a frankly irresponsible expanse of skin between shoulders and waist.

Even the boots were barely salvageable, but at least they still bent.

Captain Mithrun examined his rolled sleeves for a long moment, then looked back to Kabru and nodded. If he was giving Kabru a more appraising look, it was probably just to consider the size Kabru’s shirt would be on him.

Kabru resolved to get something with shorter sleeves. Or maybe just tack them down with a sewing kit.

It had to be better than Laios’s anyway; he was large even for a tallman, and Captain Mithrun could probably get any two of the other Canaries in there with him. It even nearly covered the green slats of his armoured skirt.

Finally the captain nodded, turning back towards the dragon.

“Alright. I’m going to keep going.” And honestly? The fact that he wasn’t just teleporting himself back down was also progress, and Kabru immediately hurried after him to help heft him down onto the remaining lump of dragon.

And figured fuck it, he could lift out the last of the cut chunks since he was already over there. At least while it was frozen he could pretend it was just ice that he was touching.

“Just a second Captain, let me get down first to take a look and then I’ll help you,” he said quickly, suiting word to deed and hopping into the hole away from most of the meat scraps.

It was actually beginning to get pretty deep, a little past Kabru’s waist now when he was just on the uncut surface; they’d probably need a ladder by tomorrow. Kabru made a mental note to ask around for one, and ask if anyone knew just how deep Falin’s dragon portion would sink into the ground.

Based only on the shape he could see… they’d probably need to get someone on clearing away the dirt from the back too, the bones were beginning to curve.

Laios would know exactly what shape and position the dragon was in, probably. Maybe that could be his problem.

Captain Mithrun had obediently stopped at the edge of the hole, looking a little impatient as Kabru took just one moment to survey the situation. Before he could decide to just jump down and probably land in the pile of cut pieces, Kabru hurried back, holding up his hands to help the elf down.

“You’re making a lot of progress! I’ll get a ladder tonight, and maybe some pulleys and things to get the meat back up; we might not need it today, but it’ll make things easier if we have it ready before we do,” he called up, giving the captain an encouraging smile.

Mithrun was light enough on his feet that he’d almost certainly be fine, and able to recover his footing even on a block of ice covered in smaller, melting shards, but he was about equally likely to take Kabru out by accident as he did it.

Or teleport a lump of meat in annoyance without picking a destination, and they really did need to eat as much as possible. Apparently. Never mind that “without a destination” had meant into people more than once.

The captain did give his hands a sceptical look before taking them, clearly humouring him, but Kabru wasn’t about to complain. Or say much of anything, actually, because that was about when he noticed that for a change, the flash of pale between boot and skirt as the elf stepped forward <wasn’t> his leggings.

That was bare skin.

Mithrun’s pale, bare skin. Kabru’s eyes travelled upwards in an uncontrollable slide, his head just barely above the elf’s knees, and Captain Mithrun’s hands slid into his and those were his thighs and they were close enough Kabru could just lean forward and he’d see everything-

And he was so frozen and stiff he nearly toppled over when Mithrun swung down, the elf’s slight weight just enough to knock him off balance while his brain short circuited.

At least he managed to catch them both before they both hit the wall, his whole face suddenly burning and mouth working soundlessly. The captain gave him an odd look and stepped away, not actually asking why Kabru wanted to give him a hand down when he clearly couldn’t even stand upright himself, but he might as well have.

For the best. Kabru wasn’t sure he could make his mouth work well enough to form words.

Not until Fleki arrived, anyway, and then he was going to go and find Cithis and tell her that Lycion had been telling him how sweet and gentle she was with the captain, and that he should ask her… no, that Pattadol would be coming to ask her how they developed such a close bond.

Because the bastard hadn’t just sent Captain Mithrun back to Kabru shirt in hand to fuck with him. He’d also fucking left with the captain’s pants.

All sorts of vengeful thoughts were welling in Kabru’s mind, cut off only by the sudden press of a small, cold hand to his temple. Well and truly snapped out of it, he stumbled a little and blinked, bringing Captain Mithrun’s frowning face back into focus.

The elf made a soft, considering noise and removed his hand, looking at it with mild interest.

“Perhaps Lycion was right. You’re overheating. Sit on the ice.” And he reached out and planted a hand on Kabru’s chest, shoving with a strength Kabru still wasn’t used to seeing and sending him ungracefully to his ass.

Still trying to catch his breath, he watched Captain Mithrun walk away, bend down (and he’d never been more grateful for the length of Laios’ shirt or the armoured skirt because his heart was already hammering against his ribs), and pick up his cloak to get back to work.

It took longer than he’d like to get his breathing under control, or for his pulse to stop pounding in his ears, and for once in his life Kabru couldn’t even use the time to think.

Well. Except one thought, that wouldn’t stop playing on repeat through his head.

Maybe Lycion was more observant than he’d thought.

[snootlestheangel]

☠️

Death Doesn't Want Me Snippet

*Ghoap zombie apocalypse au ft. Soap's family*

The fic will be mostly the generic descriptions of action and scenery of an apocalypse story, but there will also be "reflection" sections where it focuses on a specific character (mostly Ghost) and their inner thoughts and feelings with the whole situation they're in. This is an example of what that'll look like.

Haunted.

It's how Sarah describes the feeling she gets from their group's newest edition. She feels haunted.

The man in question has yet to say a word to any of them, even despite the fact he broke up an argument waiting to turn into a fight. His mere presence was intimidating enough to Trent and his friends, as they had quickly quieted and allowed Sarah to speak her mind. She's still not sure if the skull mask was the reason the mystery man was able to silence those idiots, but it's what they are claiming. Personally, she thinks they were all a bit intimidated by the massive sniper rifle resting comfortably across the man's back. She believes the weapon indicated he had more hidden elsewhere on his person, and that it would be safest if he were left alone.

In all honesty, Sarah isn't scared of their new shadow. Sure, he's rather large in stature, and the full skull face accented by a dark hood is intimidating, but she just doesn't have any fear of this man. It could be that he had stepped in to allow Sarah to tell those daft bastards the right plan, or maybe that the others had finally stopped belittling her and her family all for being Scottish.

Or maybe it's because she watched her youngest daughter hand him a thistle she had picked, and the fact he took it gently and stowed it in the open pocket of his duffel.

Either way, Sarah MacTavish can say with complete confidence that this phantom is not a threat to her and her family.

In fact, she feels comforted at the same time as feeling haunted. Haunted because this enigmatic figure tends to stay several meters behind the main group. Haunted because he's often spotted just out of the corner of her eye, giving her a start until she remembers the unspoken peace treaty they have with this physical manifestation of Death itself.

But comforted because at least one person here has a weapon and seems competent. Comforted because he very easily could have killed anyone he wanted and taken advantage of the others. But he hadn't. In fact, he expressed a gentleness that Sarah knew to be a quickly dying trait in this world of ruin. She has started to take for granted their unconventional guardian, and has grown rather fond of his presence. She almost wonders if the man has found himself in a situation he didn't expect to be in, almost like he's in too deep. She wonders if he's committed to playing a role as a guardian all because of that first interaction, where he came to Sarah's defense and supported her plan to head north towards a potential safe place.

She finds herself making jokes with her husband Daniel about how their girls are probably driving him insane with all the little gifts, but he's too chivalrous to act anything other than grateful each time. She makes jokes with her sister-in-law Eleanor about the man's almost supernatural existence. She jokes with her older brother Oliver about how their group is so unlucky they're being haunted during an apocalypse.

Sarah becomes so comfortable with being haunted that she's rather humbled one night. Humbled when she realizes they aren't the ones that are haunted.

It's a rather disturbing feeling Sarah gets as she watches the phantom one night. He's staring into the fire, brown eyes dancing with the flames, yet they were empty, devoid of emotion.

Haunted.

What's most disturbing about that look is how familiar it feels. How close it is to the same look her youngest brother gets from time to time. The same look everyone would ignore until John became himself again.

The empty stare of a soldier.

Sarah knew from the moment they met this man that he had a career similar to that of her brother John, but she had never quite faced that reality until now. She decides to do something about it.

And maybe it's because that look reminds her so much of her baby brother. And maybe it's because her motherly instincts start taking over. Either way, she decides she's going to make their spectral companion take a nap.

"Why don't yeh get some rest? We'll be fine till morning." Sarah whispers after quietly making her way over to the fire. He blinks slowly before looking up at her, the blank aspect of his expression not disappearing but the stare no longer holding a distance to it. He's grounded now, that she can tell, but what is visible of his face gives no indication to what he might be thinking. Or feeling. If he does such a thing, Sarah finds herself thinking. The man's eyes dart around their makeshift camp as he thinks, and Sarah feels a bit frustrated by his lack of a response.

"We'll be fine, I promise. A wee rest isnae gonna hurt anythin'." This makes him look at her again, and this time she can gather a bit of emotion coming from those amber eyes. He nods in agreement before quietly getting up and moving towards the edge of the group, just in the darkest part and nearly disappearing into the shadows.

But Sarah is left confused. He had looked back to her with an almost mournful look, like he knew something she didn't.

She didn't dwell on it. She couldn't afford to.

Instead, she trusted him. Trusted that haunted feeling as she put out the fire, and bathed them all in darkness.

[t1meslayer]

It's peanut butter jelly T1me!

... Alright, now @alchemicallymoon doesn't have to call the authorities.

You know the drill — go check out my latest Dungeon Meshi fanfic, "Peanut Butter & Jelly." Then click that button down below to read my completely overindulgent author's commentary!

Dungeon Meshi... Ah, Dungeon Meshi.

I wrote my first DunMeshi fic "Scrambled Eggs" when Trigger's anime was beginning to air. Maybe this was a silly idea given it's a post-canon event, thus alienating the people who might've been curious to join community spaces after watching the first couple of episodes. However, I read through everything before the anime started on the recommendation of friends (including my collaborating body of spiders @trybard) and fell deeply in love.

No joke, some things in that story changed my life at the exact moment I needed it. I couldn't hold myself back when it came to appeasing the DunMeshi faithful among us.

And hey... It worked out! "Scrambled Eggs" became my most successful fic of all time, sitting at over 250 Kudos as of this writing.

I can't judge any fanfiction.net metrics because that site doesn't even have a Dungeon Meshi tag... But that's a whole other story.

That Farcille story was not the only idea I had logged in my Notes app, but needless to say that success did encourage me to continue sooner rather than later.

... Perhaps a little bit later following self-imposed hiatuses for my poll-winning Stardew Valley fic "How You Get The Girl" and the first part of my ambitious Pokemon Scarlet and Violet fic "Fallout." But I have also been doing some Meshi writing for the Dungeon Meshi Cookbook Zine?

That brings us to "Peanut Butter & Jelly." I believe it's mandated by law that all DunMeshi stories are named after a relevant food item or monster within their narrative.

In this case, the titular sandwich was my inciting incident. I've recently found myself working retail for the first time, stocking shelves at a major brand store. One day I was pushing merchandise on the aisle with peanut butters and jellies and thought, "Senshi would make a killer PB&J."

My first developmental task was deciding what kind of monster could be cooked into the sandwich. One early source I came across was a blog for fantasy author Alex Maven, in particular the article "TENDING A GARDEN OF TERROR: A COMPREHENSIVE GUIDE TO PLANT MONSTERS IN 5E DND." This introduced the vegepygmy:

I haven't played much Dungeons & Dragons outside a "Gaming in American History" class during college, so I can't say I'm an expert in the subject. But I gathered through Maven's site and fandom projects like the Forgotten Realms Wiki that vegepygmies are forest-dwelling, humanoid rot creatures created by exposure to Russet mold spores who tend to use basic tools such as slings. They can drop skins upon death, which Maven describes as an item that "looks like a furry patch of mold. It has not much use to leatherworkers but can prove to be really useful to alchemists, healers, and medicinal experts."

A few details were simplified for my fanfiction (let's call those "creative liberties" ala Ryoko Kui's unique takes on classic monsters), but the gist still felt right: forest creatures using a weapon that fires small projectiles.

What better projectiles to find in a forest than hard-shelled nuts?

I imagined something like walnuts, but the semantics don't really matter. For the most part this was set-dressing to write a story in which the main party gets to interact, unlike my isolated Farcille piece. That's where this became a "lost chapter" set prior to the discovery of Thistle's home on the Dungeon's bottom floor.

I channeled my best Ryoko Kui absurdist cover art for the featured image, though using digital collage. Originally I planned to use full color, but a fun idea came later to desaturate things for more accurate manga sensibilities:

For comparison

The impetus to write this piece when I did was two-fold. On one hand, I had time to kill during production on "Fallout," and it only felt right to do a bit of extra prep for another Dungeon Meshi zine application I've had my eyes on.

On the other hand, I became obsessed with DunMeshi's second ED for a good while. Especially this frame with Kabru's party, and the implication that Rin is constantly on the verge of wiping her entire team on accident:

Kabru fic one day.

Later I became obsessed with DunMeshi's second OP. Long-time fans may remember when I had matching levels of anime opening brain rot for my Jujutsu Kaisen Satosugu fic "Infinitesimal Distance."

Obsession, it turns out, can be good for creating silly art.

I tend to give myself a challenge for each fanfic to help further my craft. This time, the challenge was to capture these wonderful characters in a way that matches the rhythms of the original series. I pulled from the styles of a few older pieces to differentiate stages in what Alchemically put as the manga's "kill-cook-eat" formula:

The brief Laios battle uses a Falin flashback ala the manga's Living Armor arc. I used text formatting and alternate tense to separate this moment as in my Splatoon fic "Yesterday is But Today's Memory." ... Also the action is almost directly lifted from my friend's Stardew Valley OC Lotus fighting a skeleton in "Willow."

I used a bit of funky text placement with sub- and superscript formatting to convey motion with details like Izutsumi's yawn in the post-battle cooldown period, like my ScarVi fic "Paradiso."

Senshi's cooking segment is vaguely reminiscent of the recipe at the start of my Breath of the Wild fic "Recipe to Please a Princess." I used blockquotes to convey Senshi instructions as "narration," interspersed with character reactions and interplay.

Finally, I discovered that you can set a "Heading 3" HTML format over empty text to create double-lined dividers. Thought that would be a fun way to present the final ingredients list (sans nutritional information - I'm barely qualified enough to write a recipe without looking up guides on how to make peanut butter and how to make jam).

Speaking of that splash screen... We should talk about the stand-out part of this fic.

My drawing!

That's right, I draw now. Expect to see a lot more funky stuff.

I took a figure drawing class hosted by one of my friends recently, which coincided with seeing fics written by lovely folks like @flutefemme and @duelbraids that utilized custom artwork. Extra special shout-outs to duelbraid's "Splatsville Daily's Concert Review" for inspiring this artwork insertion via a whole Getty Images pastiche.

Incredibly cool idea!

Go follow them. I'm not asking.

For my sandwich art, I looked at references for braided challah and whole grain breads (since I figured that was more natural for the setting than a "Wonder Bread" look), and drew those overtop the shape of stacked slices using real-life bread reference. The knife and plate are also based partially on utensils I used for reference.

My backdrop is simple, meant to look like the plate is atop a transition point between patches of tall grass and worn pathing in the forest clearing within which our scene is set.

Creating a recipe title card ala banners in Dungeon Meshi's anime (used to great effect with bits such as the dragon meat bundles rolling past Senshi) and an ingredient list ala the manga came later.

However, I do think it's fun that the titles look imposed over the food, rather than blending too much into the background.

===

Bonus content for those still reading along:

You can see me practicing bread on the opposite side of the page in this sketchbook. Plus, my "Fallout" teaser image is bleeding through.

===

In terms of actual writing quirks I'll be brief. My favorite part of this piece is the smaller arguments and references throughout.

Laios and Falin's childhood village having no magic uses, which means no ice cream [ :( ]. This points to the negative reactions people had when Falin discovered her own magical aptitude.

The introduction of Laios' party ending with Izutsumi just being. Izutsumi. I'd draw later attention to an "Izutsumi thinks about herself" joke with some fun gender(tm), but this early moment was meant to convey my intentions for capturing DunMeshi style.

Yes, Laios talking about using mold powers to regenerate limbs is a reference to Resident Evil Village. No, I have not played most Resident Evil games.

Chilchuck's laughter being stylized as "nahaha" draws a connection to Izutsumi's similarly smarmy sense of humor. It's also a reference to how PokeMas wrote Rika during a story event around the time I was writing this. I feel like those characters sound similar!

Marcille does ritualistic morning hair care. IYKYK.

Izutsumi flies across the sky like a startled cat in an old cartoon.

Chilchuck is tired of everyone using his lockpicking set for odd jobs like mimic meat retrieval and walnut cracking.

Laios wants to get Namari some slings to inspect!! I just think they were really chill buds, actually. He'd probably get her hyperfixations, even if he doesn't get armor.

Marcille's holier-than-thou speech about assuming there's some sexism in Senshi's Scooby-Doo party division is cut off by Chilchuck digging into the idea of the Canaries existing at all. What are they, some kinda Suicide Squad?

Izutsumi is always hesitant about their food. Luckily, this is perhaps the least monster-filled meal yet - unless you're Laios, using leftover Changeling sauce that was meant to be an ointment. He's a freak like that.

Food opinions: Senshi likes crunchy peanut butter. Marcille cuts the crusts off her sandwiches.

I actually presented a poll to my beta reader wondering whether Chilchuck or Izutsumi would chuckle first at Marcille using the term "nut butter." Izutsumi won handily.

Most divorced dad definitely made his daughters sandwiches. That's, like, the one real divorced dad meal I'd expect.

For those in the know on events in the manga, Laios noticing some droppings on the floor is a pretty solid indication of what story beat the gang is approaching within the fiction...

Finally, I know one of peoples' favorite parts about "Scrambled Eggs" was the sheer amount of food-related descriptors. I'm not sure I had quite as deft a hand this time around since most of my energy went toward dialogue interplay, but hopefully you still got your money's worth!!

[scotianostra]

On May 28th 1503 a Papal Bull was signed by Pope Alexander VI confirming the marriage of King James IV and Margaret Tudor and the "Treaty of Everlasting Peace" between Scotland and England.

From an early age, Margaret was part of Henry VII’s negotiations for important marriages for his children and her betrothal to James IV of Scotland was made official by a treaty in 1502 even though discussions had been underway since 1496. Part of the delay was the wait for a papal dispensation because James’ great-grandmother was Joan Beaufort, sister of John Beaufort, who was the great-grandfather of Margaret Tudor. That made James IV and Margaret Tudor fourth cousins, which was within the prohibited degree. Patrick Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, acted as a proxy for James IV of Scotland for his betrothal to Margaret Tudor at Richmond in January 1502 before the couple was married in person.

James was dashing, accomplished, highly intelligent and interested in everything, James IV of Scots enjoyed himself with mistresses while manoeuvring to secure a politically useful bride, so the marriage was not just an "English thing".

Our King was 30, his bride was what has been described as "a dumpy 13 year old".

I'll dip into the "newspaper" of the day in Grafton's chronicle the following was written....

"Thus this fair lady was conveyed with a great company of lords, ladies, knights, esquires and gentlemen until she came to Berwick and from there to a village called Lambton Kirk in Scotland where the king with the flower of Scotland was ready to receive her, to whom the earl of Northumberland according to his commission delivered her." he went on "Then this lady was taken to the town of Edinburgh, and there the day after King James IV in the presence of all his nobility married the said princess, and feasted the English lords, and showed them jousts and other pastimes, very honourably, after the fashion of this rude country. When all things were done and finished according to their commission the earl of Surrey with all the English lords and ladies returned to their country, giving more praise to the manhood than to the good manner and nature of Scotland."

Not exactly flattering words!

The wedding finally took place for real (after several proxy marriages) on 8 August, 1503 at Holyrood House in Edinburgh. Margaret was officially crowned Queen in March 1504. The Scottish poet William Dunbar wrote several poems to Margaret around this time, including “The Thistle and the Rose”, “To Princess Margaret on her Arrival at Holyrood”

Now fayre, fayrest of every fayre,

Princes most plesant and preclare,

The lustyest one alyve that byne,

Welcum of Scotlond to be Quene!

Margaret was apparently homesick and not happy in her early days in Scotland, but the couple settled down to married life, there first child, James was born four years later, he died within the year, their second, a daughter fared little better she never survived a day. In 1309 another son only lived to be nine months old, such was the difficulties of trying to produce and heir, it's a wonder the human race survived, what with mortality rates being so high in the nobility, one only wonders how high it would have been for the ordinary citizen of Scotland?

Meanwhile Margarets father passed away and Henry VIII took the throne.

Margaret’s next child was born on April 11, 1512 at Linlithgow and named James. He survived childhood and was to become King James V and father of Mary.

As for "Treaty of Everlasting Peace" it lasted around 10 years, in the first few years of Henry VIII’s reign, the relations with Scotland became strained, and it eventually erupt in 1513, when Henry VIII went to France to wage war, this invoked The Auld Alliance and James IV, Henry VIII's brother-in-law marched his army into England only to be disastrously cut down on September 9th at Flodden Field, with too many of our Scottish Knights to count. The Queen gave birth to another son, Alexander the following April, but things would turn sour for her.

Margaret, then regent, remarried into the powerful Douglas family, the Scottish Parliament then removed her as Regent a pregnant Margaret fled Scotland in 1515, her sons were taken from her before she left. She was given lodgings by her brother at Harbottle Castle, where she gave birth to daughter, Margaret Douglas, who herself played a big part in Scottish history, becoming mother to Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley.

That wasn't the last we had seen of Margaret Tudor though, she returned to Scotland with a promise of safe conduct in 1517 but her marriage to Douglas was a disaster, he had taken a mistress while she was in England.

In 1524 Margaret, in alliance with the Earl of Arran, overthrew Albany's regency and her son was invested with his full royal authority. James V was still only 12, so Margaret was finally able to guide her son's government, but only for a short time since her husband, Archibald Douglas, came back on the scene and took control of the King and the government from 1525 to 1528. This would all come back to bite the ambitious Douglas family in the bum

In March 1527, Margaret was finally able to attain an annulment of her marriage to Angus from Pope Clement VII and by the next April she had married Henry Stewart, who had previously been her treasurer. Margaret's second husband then arrested her third husband on the grounds that he had married the Queen without approval. The situation was improved when James V was able to proclaim his majority as king (he was 16 at the time) and remove Angus and his family from power. James created his new stepfather Lord Methven and the Scottish parliament proclaimed Angus and his followers traitors. However, Angus had escaped to England and remained there until after James V's death.

Margaret's relationship with her son was relatively good, although she pushed for closer relations with England, where James preferred an alliance with France. In this, James won out and was married to Princess Madeleine, daughter of the King of France, in January 1537. The marriage did not last long because Madeleine died in July and was buried at Holyrood Abbey. After his first wife's death, James sought another bride from France, this time taking Marie de Guise (eldest child of the Claude, Duc de Guise) as a bride. By this same time, Margaret's own marriage had followed a path similar to her second one when Methven took a mistress and lived off his wife's money.

On October 18th 1541, Margaret Tudor died in Methven Castl. probably from a stroke. Margaret was buried at the Carthusian Abbey of St. John’s in Perth. Although Margaret's heirs were left out of the succession by Henry VIII and Edward VI, ultimately it would be Margaret's great-grandson James VI who would become king after the death of Elizabeth.

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Words Spawn Actions

“You have wearied the Lord with your words. Yet you say, In what way have we wearied Him? [You do it when by your actions] you say, Everyone who does evil is good in the sight of the Lord and He delights in them. Or [by asking], Where is the God of justice?” Malachi 2:17AMPC

Are you aware that our words spawn actions? Words are formulated from the thoughts of our hearts. Unfortunately, too often, my words will bypass my mind and exit my mouth. It’s an area I truly struggle in, just as my feelings will show on my face, again thoughts from the heart. Proverbs 23:7NKJV “For as he thinks in his heart, so is he…”

This is one reason Solomon wrote, Proverbs 4:23NLT “Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.”

David knew the way to guard the heart was “Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in Your ways” Psalm 119:37ESV.

Isaiah asked who could dwell with Yahweh. Holy Spirit’s response was “He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, who despises the gain of oppressions, who shakes his hands, lest they hold a bribe, who stops his ears from hearing of bloodshed and shuts his eyes from looking on evil” Isaiah 33:16ESV. Three actions correspond with our text scripture. Speaking “uprightly,” closing his ear and eye gates to evil. Guarding our hearts is guarding what we allow into our minds through our senses.

Why? Satan knows bombarding the eyes and ears will dull our minds, changing our actions. People become desensitized by seeing evil— hence planned riots, looting, murders, pornography, blatant sex sins and lifestyles. Example: We held a high moral standard in our home. Unmarried couples weren’t permitted to sleep together. Lou’s sister-in-law and boyfriend lived together… how could I not permit them? Fortunately, all the beds were filled, he got top bunk and she the bottom. Later, came others, whom Lou didn’t want to insult by separating them, saying, ‘let God be their Holy Spirit.’ Weren’t we desensitized? Or was I trying to play God?

Preachers, and church members alike talk about how they can’t understand why God is permitting such evil today. Do we turn off evil movies, TV shows, talk shows? Are we approving the evil by our actions and then discussing what we’ve seen?

Everyone is fighting and arguing about abortion. ‘It’s my body, my right to abort.’ Isn’t it the right of the life created to live? The fight is because of fifty years of satan’s indoctrination camps called schools, teaching sex-ed, and the government calling it ‘birth control.’ Surely this is evil. Yet, some churches say it’s okay, even perfectly fine to abort. When believers don’t oppose politicians who favor abortion, their actions say— “evil is good,” while words say, ‘God understands the fetus is better off, than alive with those parents.’

Those same church goers scream out “Where is the justice of God?” because of the pedophilia, child sex trafficking, murders of children, twisted perverted education in the schools. What’s the difference? Because the children were born rather than unborn? They consider Adonai a weakling because He doesn’t prevent what they’ve allowed.

Jesus said, “You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?” Matthew 7:16ESV. It all starts at the ballot box. Don’t say, ‘we can’t vote in corrupt elections.’ Vote paper ballots on election day trusting God. Simply not voting is voting for evil. Voting a party ticket because that’s ‘our party’ has voted in evil people, promoting Communism, crime by defunding police, releasing prisoners, opening borders allowing known violent offenders across without restriction— don’t accuse God for not being unjust. Shut your mouths.

Could our words be identifying us as someone other than a Christ follower? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: Adonai forgive, please, our harsh words and sinful actions, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Amaziah Reigns Well in Judah (2 Kings 14:1-14)

1 Amaziah was twenty and five years old when he began to reign; and he reigned twenty and nine years in Jerusalem: and his mother's name was Jehoaddan of Jerusalem. 2 And he did that which was right in the eyes of the LORD, but not with a perfect heart. 3 Now it came to pass, when the kingdom was established unto him, that he slew his servants which had killed the king his father. 4 But he put not their children to death, but did according to that which is written in the law in the book of Moses, as the LORD commanded, saying, The fathers shall not die for the children, neither shall the children die for the fathers; but every man shall die for his own sin.

Amaziah's Victories

5 Moreover Amaziah gathered Judah together, and ordered them according to their fathers' houses, under captains of thousands and captains of hundreds, even all Judah and Benjamin: and he numbered them from twenty years old and upward, and found them three hundred thousand chosen men, able to go forth to war, that could handle spear and shield. 6 He hired also an hundred thousand mighty men of valour out of Israel for an hundred talents of silver. 7 But there came a man of God to him, saying, O king, let not the army of Israel go with thee; for the LORD is not with Israel, to wit, with all the children of Ephraim. 8 But if thou wilt go, do valiantly, be strong for the battle: God shall cast thee down before the enemy; for God hath power to help, and to cast down. 9 And Amaziah said to the man of God, But what shall we do for the hundred talents which I have given to the army of Israel? And the man of God answered, The LORD is able to give thee much more than this. 10 Then Amaziah separated them, to wit, the army that was come to him out of Ephraim, to go home again: wherefore their anger was greatly kindled against Judah, and they returned home in fierce anger.

11 And Amaziah took courage, and led forth his people, and went to the Valley of Salt, and smote of the children of Seir ten thousand. 12 And other ten thousand did the children of Judah carry away alive, and brought them unto the top of the rock, and cast them down from the top of the rock, that they all were broken in pieces. 13 But the men of the army which Amaziah sent back, that they should not go with him to battle, fell upon the cities of Judah, from Samaria even unto Beth-horon, and smote of them three thousand, and took much spoil.

Amaziah Rebuked for Idolatry

14 Now it came to pass, after that Amaziah was come from the slaughter of the Edomites, that he brought the gods of the children of Seir, and set them up to be his gods, and bowed down himself before them, and burned incense unto them. 15 Wherefore the anger of the LORD was kindled against Amaziah, and he sent unto him a prophet, which said unto him, Why hast thou sought after the gods of the people, which have not delivered their own people out of thine hand? 16 And it came to pass, as he talked with him, that the king said unto him, Have we made thee of the king's counsel? forbear; why shouldest thou be smitten? Then the prophet forbare, and said, I know that God hath determined to destroy thee, because thou hast done this, and hast not hearkened unto my counsel.

Amaziah Defeated by Joash of Israel

17 Then Amaziah king of Judah took advice, and sent to Joash, the son of Jehoahaz the son of Jehu, king of Israel, saying, Come, let us look one another in the face. 18 And Joash king of Israel sent to Amaziah king of Judah, saying, The thistle that was in Lebanon sent to the cedar that was in Lebanon, saying, Give thy daughter to my son to wife: and there passed by a wild beast that was in Lebanon; and trode down the thistle. 19 Thou sayest, Lo, thou hast smitten Edom; and thine heart lifteth thee up to boast: abide now at home; why shouldest thou meddle to thy hurt, that thou shouldest fall, even thou, and Judah with thee?

20 But Amaziah would not hear; for it was of God, that he might deliver them into the hand of their enemies, because they had sought after the gods of Edom. 21 So Joash king of Israel went up; and he and Amaziah king of Judah looked one another in the face at Beth-shemesh, which belongeth to Judah. 22 And Judah was put to the worse before Israel; and they fled every man to his tent. 23 And Joash king of Israel took Amaziah king of Judah, the son of Joash the son of Jehoahaz, at Beth-shemesh, and brought him to Jerusalem, and brake down the wall of Jerusalem from the gate of Ephraim unto the corner gate, four hundred cubits. 24 And he took all the go1d and silver, and all the vessels that were found in the house of God with Obed-edom, and the treasures of the king's house, the hostages also, and returned to Samaria.

The Death of Amaziah

25 And Amaziah the son of Joash king of Judah lived after the death of Joash son of Jehoahaz king of Israel fifteen years. 26 Now the rest of the acts of Amaziah, first and last, behold, are they not written in the book of the kings of Judah and Israel? 27 Now from the time that Amaziah did turn away from following the LORD they made a conspiracy against him in Jerusalem; and he fled to Lachish: but they sent after him to Lachish, and slew him there. 28 And they brought him upon horses, and buried him with his fathers in the city of Judah. — 2 Chronicles 25 | English Revised Version (ERVB) The English Revised Version of the Holy Bible is in the public domain. Cross References: Exodus 3:2; Numbers 1:3; Deuteronomy 8:18; Deuteronomy 24:16; Joshua 10:10; Joshua 15:10; 1 Samuel 4:10; 2 Samuel 6:10; 2 Kings 4:9; 2 Kings 14:1; 2 Kings 14:5; 2 Kings 14:7-8; 2 Kings 14:13; 2 Kings 14:17; 2 Chronicles 10:15; 2 Chronicles 14:11; 2 Chronicles 26:1; 2 Chronicles 26:16; 2 Chronicles 28:9; 2 Chronicles 33:24; Psalm 141:6; Isaiah 44:15

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion The LORD Will Eventually Deal With The Idols Of Our Hearts

#DailyDevotion The LORD Will Eventually Deal With The Idols Of Our Hearts Hos. 10 7Samaria and her king will be cut off and be like a piece of wood on the water. 8The hill shrines of Aven — Israel's sin — will be wiped out. Thorns and thistles will grow up on their altars. People will say to the mountains, “Cover us,” and to the hills, “Fall on us." Samaria is another name for the northern kingdom of the Israelites. You might remember the LORD split the kingdoms after the reign of Solomon. Jeroboam, whom the LORD appointed as king over the northern tribes, in fear of losing his people back to allegiance to Jerusalem, built two temples, one in Bethel and the other in Dan. At these altars he placed golden calves to represent the LORD. This always irritated the LORD and He was patient with them for a couple centuries, until the effects of those idols, namely the worship of other gods and a departure from the rest of the Law, has now brought the destruction of this country. So Samaria and her king would be cut off and be like a broken off branch being carried away by the river. The LORD would finally put an end to these two temples and altars by the hands of the Assyrians. To this day, they are at best archaeological digs. Thorns and thistles are the inhabitants of them now. The destruction brought down upon the Israelites because of their sin will be apocalyptic and the prophet proclaims the people will say to the mountains, “Cover us,” and to the hills, “Fall on us.” Jesus would quote this referring to the fall of Jerusalem to the Romans and then to the Day of Judgment for the whole world. They say this in hopes of being hidden from the wrath and judgment of the LORD. Of course nothing can provide cover for the Day of the LORD than the blood of Jesus. 9“Since the time of Gibeah you have sinned, Israel; and it's still the same. Will no war against wicked people reach them in Gibeah? 10I will punish them when I want to. People will be gathered against them since they are yoked to a double wrong. Gibeah is interesting. It is there the men of Israel circumcised themselves having entered the Promised Land because they did not practice this since leaving Egypt. From there they embarked on taking the Land the LORD was giving them. It was there the sin against the Levites concubine took place and Benjamin was almost wiped out by the other Israelites. It was where Saul was from and where he was chosen as Israel's first king, the people having rejected the LORD as their king. In placing the time since Gibeah, the LORD is basically saying the people of Israel were rarely faithful since entering the Promised Land. Now Gibeah was also one of the furthest places in the kingdom, hence the question, “Will no war against wicked people reach them in Gibeah?” They perhaps thought they were safe by distance. But no, the Assyrians will reach there as well. God will punish them when He wants to do so. The people who will be gathered against Israel are the Assyrians. The being yoked to a double wrong is a reference to the golden calves at Dan and Bethel. Always a stick in the LORD's craw, He would finally execute judgment on them for having departed from His instructions of worshiping only where He put His name and not having any images of Him to worship. What shall we do? Examine ourselves for any idols, anything we substitute for the LORD, cast them out and trust only in the face of our LORD Jesus Christ, the image of God. Heavenly Father, by Your Holy Spirit, cast out all idols from our hearts so we may worship You only in the image of our LORD Jesus Christ, Your Son. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[bonefall]

Thoughts on Wasp? I like the idea of cats joining that turn out that the Clans aren’t great… but also it feels… weird? Like it seems like another “lazy cat bad” on some levels. I don’t mind him not joining the Clans but these “outsider learns they’re not fit for the Clans” things always give me a pause from the Erins. Also interested in how you would handle him!

Moonkitti's video on him is really well worded, if you haven't seen it yet. I do think he's different from the way that other books tend to portray outsiders in that they are saying that he was driven away by the xenophobia of the Clans... but.

They still make him extremely disinterested in Clan life while he's in ThunderClan. I think that was a massive blunder to write, if the thing they're trying to say is "XENOPHOBIA PREVENTS OTHERWISE ENTHUSIASTIC MIGRATION"

It would have hit harder if it was Wafflepaw who tried to run to RiverClan, got assaulted, and then didn't want to be a Clan cat anymore.

Wafflepaw WANTS to be a warrior. Wasp did not. It reads more like Wasp getting hate crime'd was a "last straw" more than THE reason why he won't stay.

That's where you're getting that vibe they're saying "lazy cat bad," imo. It's a bit different from usual, but it still seems like the narrative is saying that Wasp really didn't belong here anyway.

(no, Nightheart's moment where he looks at the camera and says "he could have been fine!" doesn't change that they showed, in their text, with the actions they wrote, that Wasp was not enjoying being part of the Clans anyway. If that was their intended thesis, their writing was sloppy.)

It feels especially weird that Bee didn't go with Frostpaw. Bee was the character with a lot more setup and that strange dream. A lot of people were confusing Bee and Wasp when the book first came out and I don't blame them.

Most importantly, you can't talk about Wasp without also mentioning one of THE worst lines I think has ever been written into a Warrior Cats book. The part where tigerHeartstar says, "Those cats who just committed a hate crime were perfectly good people before the evil dictator took over. If we kill the evil dictator, I'm sure they'll CHANGE BACK"

I'm still REELING. Fuck you MEAAAN "CHANGE BACK????" CHANGE BACK? LIKE BEING A BIGOT IS UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES???

CHANGE BACK... me bringing my evil dollars up to the villain store and exchanging it for racism coins... change back...

So when I get around to it, I'm going to evaluate if Wasp is even actually necessary in the form he's in. BB is already about xenophobia and bigotry and the harm it does. Frostpaw has no shortage of examples to witness what Thistle Law is, and what it does to those excluded from Clan Culture.

When I first made my Family Tree for RiverClan, I actually ended up making Splashstar's MOM, Havenpelt, an ex-rogue. I think seeing him order a hate crime against his own mother would be a LOT more impactful here, actually.

What Frostpaw DOES need is allies and friends. I'm already starting by expanding her little "DND Party," a word I'm using to affectionately refer to some cats who will be following her home from her pilgrimage to the Park. 99% chance that Nightheart is going to become a permanent member of this party, joining RiverClan at the end of ASC. Waffle will be another. She'll probably also pick up a Tribe cat.

Wasp will be on this party, but I won't decide what happens to them until I see what that last book has in store. Who knows, he might come back (though I hope not, run as far away from these ghouls as possible Wasp!!)

[floripire]

hc + 😶 for a headcanon about a secret they know of / keep

thematic headcanons // @viikingwitch

it's not so much a secret she keeps but she does know that the world is so much larger than people know. emma tig knows it. dorian williams knows it. doctor saltzman knows it too.

floribeth pieced it all together with wade by her side. she'll divulge the information, but you have to ask for it. and you have to know what you're asking for.

once you know this, you can't unknow this. you'll carry the knowledge forever that there is more out there than mystic falls and new orleans and the salvatore school and malivore.

malivore is a part of the dark dimension, which in itself houses a bunch of supernatural creatures. most - if not all - of those creatures have some link or connection to the night world, an underground society consisting of night people: vampires, werewolves, witches and shapeshifters.

the night world has it's own laws and is governed by a joint council: the inner circle governs the witches and the elders govern the vampires.

(it even had it's own wars.)

it is decreed by the joint council, for instance, that blood-feasts are illegal and forbidden. none of this stops the night people from hosting such events or attending them. blood-feasts are held in black iris clubs - nightclubs and bars for any and all supernaturals - all across america. prominent black iris clubs are the ones in pennsylvania and san francisco. humans aren't allowed (except if they are the ones that will be taken to bed or exsanguinated) and one must be over eighteen - or at least look to be over eighteen - to enter.

there are several other groups active in the night world right now: - the lancers; elite vampire hunters that are stationed on the east coast. their hq is found in boston, massachusetts and they work together with triad industries. - jez redfern's gang; a gang of teenage vampires consisting of morgead blackthorn, thistle galena, raven mandril and valerian stillman. they are all stationed in san francisco. morgead blackthorn might have founded the gang but jez is leading it now. - circle midnight; one of the two official nationwide witch circles which is open to all witches. those who hold with circle midnight lean towards malevolent magic and are not the biggest fans of humans. - circle twilight; one of the two official nationwide witch circles which is open to all witches. those who hold with circle twilight lean towards benevolent magic, hold respect for life but merely tolerate humans. they will attack if provoked. - circle daybreak; a special kind of witch circle, in the sense that it welcomes everyone with open arms from fellow witches to vampires to werewolves to shapeshifters to humans. their goal is to make sure the night world and the human world live in harmony. or as close to it as they can manage. members of this circle are known as 'daybreakers' and floribeth is currently working on officially joining this circle (as she's already been working with them for quite some time now). - keller's team; an elite fighting team consisting of raksha keller, a shapeshifter; winfrith arlin, a witch and nyssa johnson, a vampire. they are considered to be circle daybreak's top operatives and are often out in the field.

due to being related to the harman family through her mother, floribeth has always been drawn to harmony, a town in virginia, coincidentally near mystic falls and grove hill which is filled to the brim with supernatural creatures and it is there that floribeth settles down eventually.

[libidomechanica]

“Then understand: I love lessend from myself anew beyond the”

A limerick sequence

                Then understand: I love lessen’d from myself anew beyond the linnet    poured him who sang with his    sides I could be told. Behold. Fashion whispering the flower?

                But what matter how do I now mean these extreme verge of rhyme to look not    outrun me. The earth and    catch at each cold and art, if merciless. The secret Russian.

                Even the Lord of Raucocanti? These songs I sink my love. Thy marble    fonts; they call alone as    thistles all heaven, that wilderness. His wanting daffodils.

                Which makes a rising sun. Don Juan, he know the moon and fro. Bough the glade of    Gold, danger, and carol    rang. He is gay, like pressed with thee, dearest, best, ’ she taken wing.

                Her fathers rose on such as metal waiting with my tirade. Now-a-days    is coltish natures, would    call the sun. But, for here, and every clime this broad-brimm’d of sin.

                Look ye not reach’d at ease my faith? That Frowning rain; yea, tho’ I walk with the    could man I love that Frowning    but in those the less; our dear or cherish in the Shepherd?

                Dan Phoebus take time, time through led, and lower in that which the mask of the    golden to the day when    the skull which thee. In the sustained, thought. That did not meet her side.

                And here all who look it cannot I have it out; and used, and towers and    a wood care is Additional.    This cruel fellowship, and strike, rather most shall ripeness.

                ’Reign graceful necks, which ‘flow’d with his sheets. By all these, a lady’s gently, by    me and to each others    thus: On Thursday the imperturbable, thou shalt do; first day!

                Be all its grief abuse the presents less bitter ill, to him sprung from her    he bean, and balmy drop    the giant labour, and the hands. To refer to, without ground.

                A nymph doth keepe, iealouzie hemselves? Thou art worth gives o’er; or sober, here’s    then he long low    islander with no language lies beside my love. Sing. Man withdrew.

                Sung by fits, like a signal-flag; and no less body and a Greek i’d    have your mother, will be    company’s a king, and I will not seemd but yours. And the law.

                The wild the people prefer wine—’t is my mother nymph and shott as fyre,    that I leant? Thine, her    hand that I had set a ringlet turn’d as whott at his common!

                Can see no baseness had every eye well-tuned so longer—in the sun,    the present, Lords A. And    a Grecian hour for pass’d life. From scarped his rack’d with banquet.

                Wholly round only minstrel be, progress turn thee from Time’s injurious,    that waited for the back.    In that binds him the Throne of the tomb, but I’ll have idle case?

                To those talons held again is as at a time hath no great moral odor,    otherwise. ’Tis that    distant parson, or are the same? If calm despair? Shall be true.

                And found my regret to the high Muse is there I find no more content, he    always envy, though to    soar too soone it: the chrism of loss. Half-grown as yet look thy tears.

                Comes from the most breath, ill bring its skin. My feet flower of anger race, should    like a stoic anchor    in emerald rain. And stillness of their dead shall o’er-gang ye.

                Which were to blow. Not by this, we turn’d for me! Her statue veil’d, and I was,    straight a crimson or    wherefore than the side by side, if so heavenward always act?

                A tattle world, and my pain, I thinks? Hold thoughts with Death, of himself betwixt    her clouds. And skin. On thee,.    In pedigrees, by name, tis but such reverend walls of champagne?

                Reaping with a fix’d upon the neighbouring breeze of Fair Women a Farewell,    tho’ they bore his    credible. Let rang without really the world to discpline. For me.

                Midst the very difficult to greet us. Julia closed with all curious    lies, the fainter, till    Doubt and ready to lady, one pure blown about from the plain!

                The effigies the Queen shalt do; first for common-place the kind. The Dragon    from me? And all the mind    that the monastic case, still not like a kindred brow, feeds Hell.

                —At least, to glide, like coarse conclusion. Stiffened by the soil, left my after    for the prima donna    and trust in the two princes and live a crescent moon the green.

                Except it becomes the violet comes to confined, ’ some name of Him that sleeping.    Her narrowing I    no further I’d quotation of those to bear suits my rhymes.

                About empyreal heights divers to thee: no, not a woman-love hid and    rashly, her lavish mission    more polished mind. To mingle scudo of sandal, amber.

                And all, and ashes, but branchingly with care; so seem’d charm. Like strange, for changing,    she place in: from his    shield, which leaves among the threshold of the facts. Wild Hours shooting.

                And then dismiss’d the forest, thy defect, for azure views; nor could not made    at least little low, or    towers shook her hands. Lift as pure in well as I. Watch, my tears?

                When one at a long from the grave, being obsolete. Ring out the flower;    but stays higher strove, as    if instead their bowe, which ends in endless when trust that to view?

                Aspects may cease, the fades from afar, before; my love, time. My Arthur fountains    at ease, with this there    sat in outliving brightens to show than they control, o hear.

                Also to beat the budding hello. Dark how thought to act in Sicily    all silence of mind. And    sighing admiration a Dream of the held up the wouldst owe.

                Or under-music, rolling too much. I felt it, giving up; no more his    darkness utter’d with my    skin&hold apart; — ‘Tis there and thick by ashen greyness.

                Like one charm. If to lift him out. Heroic if you were many a token    win. Without a slothful    heart. The occasion, or durst in the torrent on, and mine.

                Also suit the bugle’s winning as a wing, and join’d each correct, with grace,    still on higher; as gentle,    genial tablet, the word, when we’re tired metaphor, still!

                He came far condemned, whom I grieved in July, a nymph doth keepe, iealouzie hemselfe    doth what I could not    yet. Await those great appeal to their tedious book. And years.

                A dead would have felt so farre from the flood. Long walks in her changes of after-    moulded lime; what    possession upon the occasion at Love would make the power?

                The coming again? Of any vision, or generate brain; for not, for    want to be. Of another,    so let their sire: On Thursday the sun by sun the wine.

                Whose cold, and Stand full growing cause the ungarners in light-blue eyes I sleep    can not at a loss did    every gossamers the comes, but not in vain; a favour’d in.

                Putting each more where I was, and hit me too commence: such pain, and the more    fit for the foster-bowman,    her life breather’s arm, their heaven a tale of Quixote?

                Say, then—i never bound him, can for sometimes home. To lose itself to shoot,    and Master new, a step    she mix with strange. Robert Burns: know it; my tongue was Nelly Gray!

                My sisters rage of moving star, o’erlook’st thou art a Mower theirs is modern    rhyme may lives to show,    no touch’d her beautiful face. What she dang me, an’ kissing song.

                —Hospitality o’er the little huddled on her stations are set less    the ground that we are gone:    I care for comes. Angel Singing hue, and like to go: my fear.

                Cannot falls our days more splendour fairest tinters fought me, my shadowy    curve in it, In a simply    murder. The fancy’s tenderness of sloth; nor human thus?

                Like liquor or as the stirring could not knowing race of their lives. To danced    from the Sum of ripen,    her life paid for ever a potato,—while my blood of young.

                And I seal. And leaders of Parliament, and partakes thrones of Don    Juan,—who, an awkward country    maid, and loud with from more than a hurry, and something lost.

                From the earth Hell! How happy eyelids from all in low estate to show’d him    sprung from the clock, by its    smoke, danger half so deleterious; hearing down the brain.

                By the in much from marge to under the blue are too riper grow: we are    our mother and love, through    they knowledge, but such distant him. Is nought them take thou art fair.

[gildedmuse]

ZOLAW CONCEPT: hanahaki disease, but instead of being fatal it's more like having allergies and whoever has it acts like someone with lactose intolerance where they just don't care about the cons of their actions

I have to admit that I had NO idea what this was and had to look it up.

My first thought was just...

Internet: However, Hanahaki Disease is particularly popular within fandom due to its potential for angst, hurt/comfort, pining, and general romantic tension.

Me: Yep. That's just about me.

Me: You throw some jealousy and possessiveness and there and that nails it to a tee.

Me: Hey, it turns out jealousy (sub: possessive behavior) angst, h/c, pining and grt are NOT family recipes

Me: They're just generic internet memes

(This all makes more sense if your mom is an intense baker)

I do quickly want to stay that I might not understand the full breathe of this but I DEFINITELY understand people who are lactose intolerant and just want a normal tasting latte (not your fault they sugar/vanilla all those alt milks). So I pretty much feel I have this troop down.

My only question would be who would be the infected? It would be so much easier if one of them had a sword attack to feature flowers, but the only one I can think of is Cavendish.

(Seriously, does that guy grow roses in his spare time? Like... Is 90% of his life dedicated to Rosales horticulture? If so, I respect that he's found his true passion in life. Go for it, overly pretty but broken dude. Grow them roses.)

I mean, if it were blood we have an obvious western metaphor for me to better understand. It's call Dying At The End Of A Romancic/Gothic movie from Tuberculosis. That always ends in tragedy though so I'm gonna go with the flowers.

But also of it's blood instead of flowers... Pretty sure it's be Zoro. Okay, yes, they have definitely both coughed up blood at some point but I feel like in Laws case it was, "cause, physically, my body is sick and must die" where as Zoro was like:

Zoro: *Sees Big Bubble Of Pain For Someone He Loves* Oh, I'm walking into that.

Me: Zoro, are you sure? Because you will be straight up sacrificing yourself when they COULD potentially pull out of this no pro-

Me: Fuck. You're already gone.

But that would unfortunately lead to Zoro drinking lattes not caring.

Zoro, At Punk Hazard Because Torao at Saboady And Then Cutting An Island In Half? Won't Even Drink Soup With Them. And Yet, Yes Please: *Coughs up cherry blossoms, obviously*

Zoro, To Crew: I'm fine.

Zoro, In Dressrosa Where Law Works To Save His Captain And Fights Mingo Even After Having His Arm Cut Off Yet Gets Mad At The Celebration When Zoro Grabs Him: *More Cherry Blossoms Obviously*

Zoro, To Crew: I'm FINE.

(I'm not sure what Law's flower is, so I'm just going to go with Zoro's)

(And yes technically both of them would be the thistle. Because all spiky on the outside and *motions to Zoro* Sword.)

(Can't really cough that up in a cool way)

Zoro, In Zou Where Torao Does The Most Romantic Thing Yet: Get All Angry About Something His Crew Loves And Yet Still Kinda Flirty Pissy With Zoro: *Just obviously sick*

Despite how everyone would know it by then ("He gets suck everytime he looks at Torao!" / "Ahh, that's SUPER sweet though! He must be in love!" / "Yeah, but it's never great to be I'll, Franky-bro!" / "It IS a wonder he continues to deny it, Franky, when he could due something daring." / "... Robin, what would bet that he'd do just that?") Zoro still manages to insist he's fine.

Even once they're trapped on a goddamn submarine - Zoro didn't actually understand what being on a submarine meant so thank God you're not here captain, he'd hate to have to fight you over sending him in this trip to hell - Zoro INSISTS on denying it. Insists. Insists. Insists.

Insists to all sort of medical professionals and even Law himself. Who has him practically backed into a corner at some point when Zoro is openly sick. There are flower petals at their feet and yet this idiot is saying he's fine. Like, sure, he's fine for now, but does he know the unwanted complications this could have with later medical problems? It's not as if Law cares if he's in love with his captain or not. Or maybe that creepy woman. Or... Who knows? The whole crew is weird. Point is, he thought Zoro was enough of a grown up to take this seriously but since he won't even admit it when he's being sick on front of Law.

In which case, there is nothing Law can do to help.

He did think, Mugiwara-ya was the kind of man who at least CARED about his crew, but even after telling the captain of the Straw hats he gets nothing. Which is crazy because Law's seen him sick since almost the day...

Robin: Strange how our swordsman never seems to show signs of his illness in front of our captain.

Law: He's likely holding back the worst of the attacks.

Robin: Yes, that seems very possible. So they'd only appear once a blue moon. About how we've met you on our route, Torao-kun! *Smile*

MedTech: Our calculations actually showed very similar dates...

Law: You're referring to...

MedTech: *Sinking in his seat* I mean... look.... when he met us with us, sir.

Law: Right, so obviously....

Law: *Based on the staring* Right

Law: Shit.

[ren-c-leyn]

Happy STS Ren^^

So other than asking for an update for your projects in general (twice a week to be informed these days :D) I would like to know, are there any skills characters across your wips are good at but don't like to use for whatever reasons? And specifically in Shackles of time universe - is there a skill or knowledge that would be frowned upon knowing?

@writingonesdreams

Happy STS to you too, Dreams ^^ I hope you're having a lovely one, thus far.

lol, to be fair, if you didn't request a twice weekly update, I'd probably never think to them on my own. It never really feels like I have anything exciting to talk about, you know?

Hm, this is a tricky one. Here's your read more.

There are, there most certainly are, but I can't talk about most of the ones that came immediately to mind because of massive spoilers. Let us just say, The Plight of a Sparrow's cast have very, very complicated backstories and relationships to magic and the world state in general.

One example that I can, and have talked about, is Thistle from The Firewalker. She has a wide knowledge of both how to save and end lives, as she is a former thief/assassin and is currently a traveling healer. She doesn't care much for poisons, picking pockets, or breaking into people's homes and hates using it, but she is good at it. She can't quite seem to get fully away from her dark past, but she's trying to. Unfortunately her old associates and Valerian's enemies are not making it easy.

I imagine Silver knows how to poison people, with her knowledge of herbs and wild plants how could she not? But it never comes up and she never uses it, and that makes sense since she follows Cordial. Cordial's law of hospitality forbids the harm of hosts or guests after food or drink has been shared. Which means she'd probably get some divine punishment for it if she poisoned someone, and whereas she has Eternity's magic, poisoned blades sound like more effort and risk than a bolt of magic to the face at a distance is. So, best to skip the poison and just make tea.

Sparrow, from The Plight of a Sparrow, has a lot of skills she either can't use because of the difference between her modern setting original home and her new fantasy home, and some skills from her past life and some knowledge about the game world she tries (and usually fails) not to use because she's scared about how everyone will react to finding out her full story. Though, the longer the story goes on, the more she questions if she really knew all she thought she did or not....

As for The Shackles of Time universe, none of the characters have skills like that, that I know of, at this moment. That's not to say there won't be, or that they aren't hiding them from me :/ My chaotic writing process is prone to surprising people, especially me. XD

As for knowledge that would be frowned upon in The Shackles of Time, I think that depends a lot on the region and culture you are dealing with, much like our world.

A knowledge that would be universally frowned upon is knowing how to break The Time Keeper's seals. If you let the Mad God out or open The Shadowed Gates, you're gonna be the most hated and hunted person on that world and nothing you do is ever going to make it up to them. Even in death, you will be maligned for as long as you are remembered. There may also be some lost magics from eras past that may be universally maligned, such as rituals like the one that made the Shadows and Shade-kin and a bunch of different undead monster types. The ancient magics are powerful, and not always nice, so using them without knowing what they are for or how they work can, and has, caused massive damage and long-lasting consequences. I don't have a whole bunch of the ancient magics fleshed out, yet, so that's my only example for the moment.

The rest would probably be on a culture by culture basis. Like say you could bind greater spirits to your will with a very powerful magic tradition, the wood elves would not let you anywhere near their forests since the greater nature spirits are very important to them, their culture, and their way of life. The Auroral Mountains probably wouldn't appreciate powerful fire-based casters since those mountains are literally the glacial/stone body of an ancient dragon and they don't want their homes to melt away.

So, yeah. It's hard to find a generalization for The Shackles of Time, partly because my world building is not as finished as it may seem and partly because the world building I do have is way more complicated than originally intended, and unfortunately my characters who don't like to use certain skills tend to like to try to bury those skills under 20 layers of secrecy and plot and sometimes don't even tell me about them until I'm halfway through a project and need to go back and foreshadow a bunch of stuff to make it fit right XD

Writing updates ~ None. So sorry, life and stress got in my way the last few days so I haven't had the energy/mental space to work on my writing. The only thing I can think of is I added two more questions to that moral quandary list for my dnd players.

I do, however, have something writing adjacent I was able to work on: The third follower celebration post. I finished and scheduled the second one to post, my writing partner loved it and so did my housemates. (I still find it cute and funny that they all want updates for the anniversary specials of a series they don't even read.) Then I got started on the third one. It's going to take a lot of work and some time, and it's definitely out of my comfort zone creative-wise, but it's turning out better than I expected ^^ Having a few difficulties with it as I'm working on it now, but I'll work them out eventually.

Thanks for stopping by, Dreams~! I hope you have a lovely day/evening.