#what’s the fucking tag for all three

[bedforddanes75]

im not american but some of you guys are just fucking stupid ong what do you MEAN youre not gna vote because you disagree with like one part of what youre voting for. like okay me when im fucking thick

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[lost-in-fandoms]

Thought i would be done but...yeah didn't happen. Part one here.

Living with Max is easy.

He doesn't whine when Daniel is taking care of his leg, he doesn't mind sleeping on some blankets on the floor, next to the fireplace, he offers to help around, and best of all he doesn't ask questions.

Well, not exactly. He asks so many questions. Once he gets over his initial bout of shyness and quiet, he asks questions about Daniel's vegetables, about his horse, about the woods, about the traps, about the animals. He offers his own opinions too, telling Daniel he's growing peas in too much shade and that he's cooking his meat for too long. And, much to Daniel's annoyance, he is often right too.

But he doesn't ask questions about Daniel. He doesn't know if it is because Max doesn't care or because he doesn't want to be asked questions back, but he appreciates being spared the trouble of telling him to mind his own business.

They also work surprisingly well together. Max is older than he initially seemed, dirt, hunger and exhaustion making him look younger, and he seems to know a little bit of everything. Even if he doesn't ask, Daniel is a little curious about what path in life brought him to have such a wide mix of knowledge. He seems to know how to move around the woods without scaring the prey, how to skin and cook animals, how to take care of the vegetables (better than Daniel), how to keep himself and the house clean.

It's nice to have a second pair of hands around, even if the pair of hands should sit down more often to let their leg heal. Not that Max ever listened to that.

And he's funny. Daniel hadn't realised how much he missed just sitting around the table after dinner, talking and laughing with someone else. How good it was to wake up and find the fire already stoked and the water pitch already filled. To have someone to say good morning to who would say it back.

Daniel hadn't been thinking of himself as lonely before, he was content with his choice of life, but he can admit that he likes this. He is glad Max decided to stay and he's glad Max seems to be having a good time too, at least from what Daniel could tell.

This is why, when about three weeks after Max's arrival he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sounds of him moving around the house, his first thought isn't Max is leaving, but something is wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice scratchy with sleep and way too loud in the quiet of the night.

He watches Max flinch, dropping something, before turning around to face Daniel.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers, too shaky to be a good order. There's something different in his voice, and it only takes Daniel's tired brain a few moments to realise that he had heard those notes before, in the woods about three weeks ago. Fear.

Daniel sits up, eyes finally adjusting to the silver darkness of the room, moonlight streaming through the open windows.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice lower, matching Max's whisper.

He listens to the sounds coming from outside, thinking that maybe the men Max was running from have come back, but he can't hear anything unusual in the late summer night.

Max is grabbing what he dropped on the floor, stuffing it into a bag that he must have taken from Daniel's things, but the moment, Daniel doesn't even care about the fact that he's very obviously stealing from him.

"Max, what is happening?" He's getting frustrated now, hates not knowing what is going on, worry and irritation growing together.

He stands up, taking a couple of steps towards Max, wanting to see him better, but he stops when Max flinches back.

"I need to leave," he finally says, voice raspy. It's not an explanation, and Daniel suddenly regrets never asking any questions.

"Why? Where?"

He doesn't want Max to leave. The knowledge of that settles like armor on his chest, safe but heavy. Living with Max isn't just easy, it's good. He doesn't want to go back to an empty house, not after the past weeks have been so nice.

"I...I need..." Max shudders, as if in pain, and Daniel's legs ache with the need of walking closer.

"Did something happen?" Did I do something wrong?

Max shakes his head, jerky and sharp. When he exhales, Daniel can hear him bite back a whine.

He doesn't want to scare Max, but he is confused, and he is worried, and he is not going to let him go without an explanation.

He steps between Max and the door.

"You owe me an explanation," he says, hating the way it makes Max stiffen, unwilling to take it back anyway.

"I don't owe you..." Max snaps, before interrupting himself with half a growl. "You haven't told me anything either!"

"That's different. I'm not running away in the middle of the night."

Max takes a step forward, back tense, and Daniel instinctively braces himself, eyes flying towards the table, where his knife always is, but Max doesn't attack him.

He shivers again, hands clenching around the bag and then letting it fall on the ground with a thump, shoulders slumping as all the fight seems to leave him.

"Please, Daniel, I need to leave. It's...it's not safe."

Max looks up, finally meeting Daniel's eyes, and he's suddenly reminded of what the man had said, so many days ago.

He's dangerous. Cursed.

Max's eyes look weird, blue brighter than ever, almost glowing in the moonlight. His face is twisted in pain and there's the glimmer of sweat gathering at his hairline. None of that would worry Daniel, but there's something...different in him. Something other.

Cursed.

The room seems too bright now. The moon is almost full tonight.

Cursed.

Max had said he hadn't killed anyone, but if this is what Daniel is thinking of...

Max closes his eyes, whole body shivering again, his edges almost blurring with it. Or maybe it's not just a trick of the light. Daniel doesn't know what to think anymore.

He doesn't want Max to go. He doesn't want this to happen.

He steps away from the door.

For a moment, they both stand still, looking at each other.

For a moment, Daniel hopes he'll wake up and it will be morning, and Max will be coming in with the last tomatoes from the garden.

Then Max whines, something low and pained, something animal, and bolts.

Daniel doesn't stop him.

He watches as his shadow changes even before he's fully reached the trees.

Then he sits on the doorstep and waits for the sunrise.

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[muffypollz]

ASHEDUE THE KISS REDRAW I LOVE YAOI

[mo-ok]

putting teeth on helmets i think should have them

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yeah so i'm falling for @weevmo's Guys... they're so neat! i dig their vibes and can't wait to see what Corduroy Stew is all about <3

[b4kuch1n]

glorioso from last years twitterin

[starry-bi-sky]

Just so you know, I've reread your answer to my ask about how you'd rewrite "Double Cross My Heart" in your Danyal Al Ghul au several times over. And I'll just say, your whole breakdown and revision of that trainwreck of a Sam centered episode is the very reason why when it comes to the phandom, both alone and in dpxdc crossovers I tend to lean more towards fanon Sam instead of canon.

Because the people that like her yet acknowledge her glaring flaws do a far better job of bringing her to task when she's being unreasonable or hypocritical in a way that's fair than the supposedly professional storyboard writers.

Anyway, you mentioned that you don't like amethyst ocean and prefer gray ghost. Same here. (though I also like pink astronaut) Since then, I can't stop imagining Danyal/Danny with the "Damian experiencing his first crush" headcanon applied to him. The idea of him treating Valerie with suspicion under the assumption she somehow poisoned or hit him with some kind of hidden anti ghost tech that affects both his human and ghost side, when in reality it's simply him developing feelings for her is just absolute hilarity. To me if no one else.

FIRST OFF YOU ARE SO SWEET <33 the fact that you've read my post about Double Cross My Heart SEVERAL TIMES means I'm now morally obligated to die for you. I'll admit! I was a bit harsh on Sam a little in my original response, because I was irritated by some depictions of her in fanon painting her as someone who could do no wrong and had the only braincell in the group. So I was kinda picking on her a little bit. Would I change a thing? No, I love her character, I just love dissecting her flaws even more.

AND ALSO YOU'RE SO RIGHT ABOUT THE DANYAL THING. That's so cute and so funny, effective immediately it is now canon🧑‍⚖️ . He fought Red Huntress earlier that day and she got a lucky good hit on him, and it's literally that one Marina reaction image where the first panel she looks shocked, the next she looks into it. At least part of it. That's literally what happened, and the next time Danny runs into Valerie at school his heart flutters.

Danny puts up this whole conspiracy board because Valerie smiled at him and his heart went all flippy-floppy and what is this FEELING. He shows it to Sam and Tucker and they both are doing that hands folded prayer-style pressed against their mouths in concern thing, and they don't know whether they should laugh or cry.

Because on one hand: oh my GOD, Danny. But on the OTHER: on my god, Danny. He's never gonna live this one down but that's because if they don't tease him about it, they're gonna get all mopey and sad about it. Just another reminder of their best friend's tragic, mysterious background.

aaa. There are some headcanons I wanna go over (like how when they go on a date, Danny and Valerie have this cute heart to heart where Danny admits that he's not used to being open with people, but he wants to try to be with Valerie because she makes him really happy. He's so shy and almost flustered, and Valerie is so charmed by this side of Danyal Fenton that she's not used to.) but I REALLY wanna think about this in terms of episodic because it was super fun doing it last time, and I really enjoyed it.

If you remember (and you prolly do since you mentioned you read the last ask you sent me several times) I said in the Gregory post that I deleted a (frankly good chunk) of writing that included how i would change the Valerie episodes leading up to the Gregory one, but I deleted it because it was kinda irrelevant to the ask, and admittedly I was getting myself all twisted in knots about it.

But I kinda wanna do that now.

So. If you don't mind I am. Gonna do that. And luckily for me! I found the website I can do. that for free, and have it pulled up! It's the same one I used for the last post to chart out the gregory episode.

So, Shades of Gray! I lowkey want this episode to be like, subtly hinting at the idea that Valerie might develop a crush on Danny first. But ultimately it gets the two of them properly introduced and established with each other, and Red Huntress going.

The episode starts out with Danny being chased by Dash because he got a bad grade in a spelling, obviously if he tried that with Danyal he's gonna get his shit wiped. So! Change! It's Danny heading to his next class, he's texting Sam and Tucker, expertly maneuvering around people in a combination of teen-texting-habit and assassin training awareness. Kinda aware of what's around him, but also not and just trusting instinct.

We meet Valerie when she's showing off a (frankly unflattering) purple polo shirt that costs, AND I QUOTE: "$579, and worth every one of my dad's pennies." to Paulina and Kwan. Girl, this shirt is a few shades off from that NEON "error, image not found" magenta. It looks incredibly unflattering on her considering it's neon-y-ness and the orange skirt and headband she's wearing. Sweetheart, get your damn money back, or at least pick a different pair of pants.

I'm telling you this because I can't resist changing the design. So instead of. that.

She is INSTEAD wearing like, this cute, ruffled, soft pastel purple crop top and some cute jean shorts. Her hair is in like, passion twist braids with little gold cuffs in them. She looks SO cute guys, so cute.

Of course maybe they made it look ugly on purpose because in the show she gets coffee dumped on her 30 seconds later from Danny crashing into Paulina while running from Dash.

I've thought of three different ways this could go, and can't pick which so I'm just gonna write them out and see which one I'm drawn to more.

Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie are standing in the hallway. Not next to a corner but close to one. Danny turns the corner, does not run into them. He briefly looks up from his phone when he hears, they kinda stare at each other, and Danny idly, disinterestedly looks at Valeria, then compliments her with a single; "Nice shirt." Pretty anticlimatic ngl, but it startles the trio a little bit because Danny doesn't often talk to other people outside his circle unless he's in some kind of group project or has to. So for him to compliment Valerie unprompted is startling. This could or could not end with one of them snarkily saying "thanks its worth more than your entire wardrobe" which Danny would take offense to because, lets not kid ourselves, Danyal and Damian Al Ghul were raised as pseudo-princes in the League. Without missing a beat he shoots back: "at least i have a personality beyond being rich." and then disappears down the hallway.

The trio begin walking down the hallway, crash into Danny. HE gets coffee splattered all over him and he immediately reels back, instinctively reverting back to his mother tongue and hissing out arabian curses as coffee drips down the front of his red hoodie and shirt. It's even in his hair. Thankfully the coffee is not as hot as it started out, but it's still uncomfortably warm. He wipes the drink from his eyes, flicks it onto the ground, and hisses out; "watch where you're going!". The trio? Kinda unsure of how to react at first; Danny is unpopular, but not unpopular enough to be worth bullying -- besides, everyone knows he wouldn't tolerate it. But then I think Paulina finds her tongue and says "what did you say?". Danny turns to her and says; "I said; watch where you're going. Need me to say it in Spanish? Mira por donde vas!" He flicks off his hoodie, grumbling in arabic about how he's going to smell like coffee all day, and stalks off. I'm pretty partial to this idea.

Valerie still gets coffee dumped on her. But instead of sic'ing Kwan on him (because she knows that won't work), she just says a few choice words to Danny and stalks off with Paulina and Kwan to go find somewhere to clean off the coffee. Danny approaches her later and gives her a list of cleaning stuff that can get coffee stains out of her shirt. And when she tells him it's made of like, this super specific fabric that needs this really specific stuff to clean, Danny raises his eyebrow at her and says that he knows, and it is a list of stuff that can clean out the stain without damaging the shirt. He says he's not an idiot, and he knows how to recognize X-Fabric when he sees it. Just because I'm fond of pseudo-prince Al Ghul here being a bit of a snob and has an extensive care and hygiene routine. He uses this moisturizer or cologne that makes him smell faintly like sandalwood and vanilla because that is my favorite scent. Tucker jokingly handed him a 13-in-1 once while they were doing a quick supply run with Sam, and Danny literally dropped it like it burned him.

I'm really partial to two and three. So i'm going to get a second opinion. [...] Second one wins! Thank you, Naviii~ <3.

Danny could just intangible the stuff off him, but that would raise questions and also I want him to go the rest of the day stained with coffee. So it stays, and he's in a sour mood for a good chunk of the day. He runs into Cujo when he disappears down an empty hallway, and gets even more irritated when his ghost sense goes off - but hey! If it's Skulker, he can at least pulverize the dude and let off some steam. But nope! It's a puppy!

And Danyal Al Ghul, local ex-member of the world's most deadliest "we speak for the trees, the trees say fuck you" group of environmentalists ever, immediately feels his troubles melt away, and he croons at Cujo. "Oh hello, habibi. Who do you belong to?" And drops down to the ground to let Cujo sniff his hand. Cujo does so, and then starts vying for his attention, and Danny is grinning very wide and very genuinely and is more than happy to give it. "You are a much better surprise than that wretched poacher. Do you have a name, pretty thing?"

Cujo has a collar on, so Danny touches it, lifts the tag, and sees the Axion labs "A" symbol on it. He hums, narrows his eyes, and murmurs "Where have I seen this before?" But before he can flip it around, Cujo then turns monstrous. We cut to the title screen!

I want to say, the next scene is in Axion labs. The way that Damon (Val's dad), Valerie, those two guards, and his boss reacts, it heavily implies that the existence of ghosts have not reached the whole of Amity Park, and that the city itself is still largely unaware of their existence. Considering that Damon's security system doesn't allocate for ghosts, and when Danny crashes at their feet, Valerie literally asks him; "What are you!?" and she seems surprised when tucker later tells her its ghosts, and is even unaware that Danny's parents are ghost hunters.

When Valerie gets coated in dog ecto-slobber, Danny does grin a little under his little half-face balaclava. Because yes, karma! He is petty, and he can't help but flip to his feet and snarkily, smugly say; "I know what I'm not," and as he says this, he leans forward and plucks some of it out of her hair, "Covered in dog slobber." and then he flicks it away.

Before Valerie can retort, Cujo breaks into the lab, and Danyal mutters curses and bounds after him. The lab gets destroyed as per canon, and Damon gets fired.

The garage sale scene happens pretty normally, when Valerie says her little "oh great, word has already oozed down to the bottom of the social grapevine." Danny's response is snarkier than in canon.

"And here Tucker was just offering some simple help to you, you looked like you needed it." He says icily, and Tucker pipes up and says "we all just want to help!" because I don't fully see Danyal being that generous especially to someone being rude to his friends.

Sam dryly says "I don't." and Danny just stays silent, neither confirming nor denying anything. He just raises an eyebrow and turns his eyes to Tucker, who is laughing nervously.

"Well, Danny hasn't said no. So most of us want to help! That's two thirds." And he gestures awkwardly to Danny, who is wearing a red muscle tee hoodie, showing that he's rather lean. "And Danny's the strongest between the three of us, so he could be a big help! There could get a lot more work done."

Valerie is not convinced, as in canon. Although for my Gray Ghost heart she does check out Danny a little bit -- but quickly shakes it off because she's still very deeply entrenched in the status quo. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

Before Danny's ghost sense goes off, I do want him to wander around the yard sale for a moment just to see what's to offer -- collector of trinkets and pretty things, he is. Projecting, I am. Slightly GNC Danny ftw, it is. There's a table of jewelry up for sale that he's drawn over to -- and almost immediately disappointed by. It's pretty, and extravagant and very obviously expensive, that's for sure, but that's not the problem. Valerie sees him looking and marches over to him, still upset that he and his friends are still there.

"Put that down, that stuff is worth more than your own wardrobe." She snaps at him, and tries to snatch an expensive, luxury sapphire necklace from his hands, and is immediately met with an icy glare from Danny as he yanks it away from her fingers.

"Who says I can't afford it?" He says -- and he can't, not really, not with the allowance he gets from the Fentons and not with their funds. However, despite their limited contact, Danny still does meet with his beloved mother. One word from him to her, and she'd ensure he got a hundred of the very same necklace. "You? You can't either, Gray. Not anymore."

Valerie looks embarrassed and furious, but Danny continues, and tosses the necklace to her. She fumbles, but manages to catch it. "I don't want this junk anyways. It's gaudy and too western. I look better in gold."

Now his ghost sense goes off, and he turns away from Valerie. He doesn't run off immediately, lingers long enough to see who the ghost is and what the danger is. And when the ground begins to shake, he grabs onto the table and reaches out on protective instinct to hold onto Valerie before she can fall over.

As you can tell, this is for my gray ghost heart. Although valerie's clothes do still get destroyed by the street water, unfortunately. And Cujo shrinks down to size by the time Valerie makes it over to her dresser to try and grab it.

Danny audibly mutters, "Its that dog again." and hurries over to scruff the thing before it can wander off. Cujo is wagging his tail and immediately, enthusiastically licks his face once he's got him up to eye level. Danny cracks a little smile, "Hello habibi, you're a little troublemaker, aren't you?"

"you know this dog?" Valerie demands, and stomps over as Danny gets Cujo settled into his arms. Sam and Tucker hurry over as well, looking mildly frazzled.

Danny scoffs at her; "Don't be ridiculous. I met him a few days ago-- wait;" and he pauses to check to see if Cujo is a boy, "--ah, yep. Him. -- I met him a few days ago in the hallway after Sanchez dumped her coffee all over me. He was rather friendly, but he ran off before I could see who he belonged to."

Sam leans over to look at Cujo, and wiggles her finger at him; "He's kinda cute, and he likes you."

Dannny has a moment where he wants to boast, of course he does, I'm fantastic with animals. But instead he keeps mum. His smile just kinda softens proudly, and he hoists Cujo into his arms a little better.

The moment is shattered by Valerie, who points accusingly at Cujo. "Whatever it is, get it out of here before it ruins anymore of my stuff!"

Annnd before Danny can do just that, Cujo begins wiggling to get out of his arms and run around. He manages to, with his ghostly strength drag Danny across the lawn before yanking himself out of his arms and knocking them both onto the sidewalk -- scraping Danny's arm in the process -- and running around.

Rather than his leg, Cujo bites Danny's arm -- and has a strong enough grip on it that he unintentionally pierces flesh and causes him to start bleeding -- and begins dragging him. But before they can reach the moving van, Danny gets his fingers wrapped around Cujo's collar, finds some purchase -- even if it means his bare arm is being dragged against the sidewalk, and yanks hard on Cujo's collar with a harsh; "HEEL."

Cujo immediately stops, and sits. Danny honestly wasn't expecting that to work immediately, but it does! And with Cujo still, he keeps one firm hand on the collar and uses his other arm -- which is now painfully road rash'd and bleeding -- to help sit up.

Sam and tucker and Valerie rush over to help. "Oh my god, Danny, are you okay?" only for Danny to hold his bad arm up to stop them from getting closer, and whirling on Cujo to scold him. He's upset enough that he reverts back to Arabic, but Cujo seems to get the point across and wilts.

Danny feels bad, but can't show Cujo any affection unless he wants to accidentally reinforce the behavior. He points to his side, and Cujo obediently goes to sit but his feet. Now he turns to the other three.

"To answer your question." He looks down to his arm and very gently brushes his fingers against the road rash, brushing out the little pebbles stuck in his skin. it stings like a bitch, and he faintly grimaces. Then he inspects the dog bite on his wrist "I'll be fine."

Even Valerie looks worried; "That looks really bad, Fenton. I think you should go to the hospital--"

"No." Danny immediately cuts her off, "No hospital. Mr. and Mrs. Fenton keep a first aid kit at home, I'll just use that."

"And what about the dog?"

"I'll figure something out."

And then they scoot off.

Cafeteria scene goes as canon, nothing much to change there other than the fact that when Valerie sees Danny, his arm is all bandaged up and he's wearing a batman merch t-shirt rather than a muscle tee, she feels a little guilty. A small part of her kinda wants to ask how he is, but the larger part that's still big on the status quo and is still humiliated by being shunned by her friends, just wants to go eat in peace. So she doesn't say anything.

(although i am thinking that if she runs into him again later after the cafeteria scene, she asks him what he did with the ghost dog, and he lies and says Phantom swooped in and took Cujo from him.)

The park scene goes relatively the same as well, at least in the beginning. But instead of Sam and Phantom being all "he's an untrained dog" they're instead all "let's see what training he does have. Maybe it can be refined."

"You're good with animals Danny, and you're the only ghost in the area. You handle it." and then she tosses the dog obedience book at him and wanders off.

Danny doesn't need the dog obedience book, so he tucks it into a pocket dimension in his cape and whistles for Cujo. There's that whole tumble down the hill, that whole chase scene happens.

I do wanna say, I actually really like how inexperienced Valerie is here. Idk maybe it's because I haven't watched a tv show in a long while, but it's nice to see that she's not immediately good at it. She wobbles on the hoverboard, two out of the three disks she threw at Danny missed, and the third only hit him by chance. She's amateurish, and I really appreciate that.

"Let me guess, first day on the job, isn't it?" and he still gets cut by the third disk like in canon. He's not impressed or convinced when she says she's going to take him down -- it's one quick once over that tells him enough.

Wobbly feet, unsteady balance on the board. -- Her first time using it, she's unconfident and doesn't trust her own tech, as if she didn't even make it herself. She's unused to the board.

Improper trigger discipline, and shaky hands on her gun. She's holding it with one hand and far away from her like she's afraid of it going off, despite the fact that she's the one on the other end of it.

Tense all the way up to her shoulders, her voice is full of false bravado. She has no idea what she's doing. Danny's thoroughly unimpressed. At least the Drs. Fenton and Walker (maddie got her doctorate with her maiden name) trust their tech wholeheartedly and treat them as an extension of themself, just as Danny does with his blades. Just as this new ghost hunter does not.

And, of course, the way she goes flying off her board the moment she fires her bazooka. Although Cujo does still come to the rescue, although like in canon, he grabs Danny by the foot. Danny manages to recollect himself though and hoist himself over Cujo's back like he's riding a horse.

This is the biggest scene change and possibly my favorite change. The fakeout makeout scene. Now, let me preface this by saying that I love the fakeout makeout concept. I think it's hilarious, and I think it's even funnier if Danny is actually rather down with the concept because the assassin-undercover part of his brain thinks it's a simple-in-a-clever way in order to brush off suspicion. I think Sam and Tucker both are very down to kiss their very attractive best friend, and whenever it comes up there have been arguments over whose turn it is to kiss Danny.

BUT. I have an image in mind for this scene, so I want Danny to be alone for this. So Cujo takes him to a cluster of trees and bushes where Sam isn't at, and Danny sends him off with a ball as per canon, but rather than get tackled by Sam, he dives up into a tree and transforms back to Al Ghul before Valerie can reach him.

He is reading the Dog Obedience book, and scares the absolute shit out of Valerie. And it's never a bad day to hurt Danny, so little miss firstie over here fires into the trees, and juuuust about skims Danny's arm. The same one that has the road rash and dog bite on it, that he's forcibly prevented himself from rapidly healing because that would arouse suspicion.

"ماذا بحق الجحيم كان ذلك!؟" ("What the hell was that!?")

Valerie knows that voice, and instantly turns ashen. "Oh no." She flies up the tree and finds Danyal sitting snug amongst the larger limbs, the dog obedience book in his lap, and he's hunched slightly and holding onto his burned arm tightly.

"Oh my god, I-- I am so sorry--" she doesn't have the time to be upset (or snarky or mean) about why he's there, considering she just shot him. Danny snaps his head up and glowers furiously at her.

"Wh- why did you do that!?" He stammers over himself, trying to find his english. Part of it is an act, part of it is genuine anger because she could've killed him with that thing. He loathes incompetence, and she has it in buckets. "Watch where you're aiming that, Trigger Finger, you could've killed me!"

Valerie is all flustered and mortified, can't even find it to get angry back. "i- I am so sorry, Fenton. I thought you were something else--"

"Something else!?" Danny yells, "So you blindly shoot?! What is wrong with you!? Don't you know any trigger discipline!?"

Iiit's. a mess? Valerie offers him a lift to the hospital, or at least out of the tree, and Danny snarls at her not to touch him, and that he's not going anywhere with her on that hunk of sheet metal. He tosses the book at her and says to make herself useful and hold that while he gets down. Valerie feels really guilty -- too guilty to protest or be mad about how angry he is with her.

When he gets down from the tree he takes the book back from her, and then asks her how she even knows his name anyways. They've never met before. "Actually, now that I think about it," he narrows his eyes at her, "you sound like someone I know."

And then he reaches for her mask.

Valerie flies back, stammering over herself and briefly forgets to feel guilty in order to feel panicked and indignant, and then just goes "What are you doing!? You're crazy, we've never met before!" And then flies off.

And, before I continue, I will say right now. Danny, as himself, forever and always from then on refers to Red Huntress (or Scarlett Hunt, as I'm thinking of as an alternative) as "Trigger" or "Trigger Finger" respectively. Whenever they run into each other as Scarlett and Danny, he always calls her Trigger and asks if she's killed anyone yet. Valerie feels really bad from then on about hitting him, because where she hit him ends up scarring.

When she's gone, Danny mutters to himself that that sounded like Valerie, and goes ghost to go find Sam and tell her what happened.

Hallway scene stays the same, and -- actually, I was gonna make fun of the fact that Valerie didn't know the Fentons were ghost hunters when it's the whole reason the family is ostracized. But you know what? I can believe it. Kids will follow the crowds' lead. Witch hunts and all that.

"So, Tucker tells me your parents are ghost hunters!"

"Yeah? What else has he told you?"

Before Cujo shows up, they do actually manage to hold some kind of conversation. However, Danny uses the time to go: "Look, if you're planning on getting into ghost hunting, try not being like the hack I met yesterday."

Valerie laughs nervously, "Ah-hah, no of course not! But uh, hack?"

Danny scowls, and twists towards her with his arms crossed -- he's wearing a red hoodie today, and a band tee. -- "Yeah! I met some chick yesterday while at the park, and Little Miss Trigger Finger shot me." He says, "Your weapon should be like an extension of yourself, not something you just use! Trigger Finger was flailing that gun in her hands like it was a ribbon, and incompetence like that will get someone killed. Your weapon -- whether it be a blade or a firearm or a blunt object -- should be as easy to move as curling your fingers, and just as easy to trust. It should not be a stranger, but a part of you. A weapon must know how to use itself if it wants to be of any use to anyone else."

Sam cuts him off with a high pitched, nervous giggle, and wraps her fingers lightly around his shoulders and tugs him back, sliding her arms around the front of his chest like an anchor. "Danny." she hisses at him quietly, and Danny snaps his jaw shut and looks away.

Tucker also laughs uneasily, "Sorry," he says, leaning around Valerie to get her attention, "Dan here uh, gets really passionate about improper weapon handling. It's one of his quirks."

Danny looks away and mutters something under his breath in arabic.

(You know this already, but Sam and Tucker still don't know about Danny's past. But they've heard him talk about weapon mishandling enough times -- and have seen him fight -- to know that the way he talks is more than just theory. He has personal experience with weapons, and has unintentionally before referred to himself as one. But whenever they ask about it, he clams up and denies any sort of involvement.)

Valerie doesn't really know what to say to that, but Danny seems to know a lot about proper weapon discipline. So she might try her chances with getting to know more about it from him later, if she can catch him. She also silently makes note to get herself acquainted to her own tools like Danny was implying.

And then Cujo shows up, and things happen as canon. Oh but wait Tucker lands on Valerie while she's trying to figure out how to open the thermos, and I want to say that she hears him say "I can help you. valerie!" before he lands on her. So her confronting him after she gets out of the basketball hoop, and practically beegs him not to tell Danny about being the same girl who shot him. She really does think his help could be valuable in the long run because of his knowledge on ghosts and weapons.

Lovestruck Tuck of course, agrees. Not without some tentative hemming and going; "I don't know Val, Danny's really clever. He'll figure it out eventually if you don't do something to hide your voice, it's pretty recognizable."

For this episode, her voice stays the same but in the future she'll be working on a voice mod, and until then refuses to speak around Danny if she knows he's present. If she has to talk, then she forcibly tries deepening it.

Anyways things proceed as canon, Danny overhears the boss with Damon say "I know we should've never gotten rid of those guard dogs."

He mutters to himself "Guard dogs? Wait..." and he holds up Cujo, peering at his collar, and finally realizing where he recognizes the symbol on the tag. Immediately his expression darkens, "Oh fuck no, they did not."

Things go as canon, although Danny sneaks in not only to find what Cujo is looking for, but to hack in and get records of their guard dogs to confirm his theory and to steal them -- plus confirmation of termination of said dogs. So he can blackmail the shit out of Axion Labs later. He stays invisible and uses his league training to sneak around, and actually gets the guard dog records and confirmation before he runs into Valerie and they fight. Danny purposely keeps his distance and focuses more on dodging.

"you're a pretty lousy shot" Valerie says when he blasts above her a metal support beam above her.

Danny retorts sharply, "I could say the same." And although she can't see it, he bares his fangs at her. "Or have you forgotten about what you did to the ghost hunters' boy a few days ago?"

(He can be VERY petty)

Which, of course, infuriates and embarrasses Val. Things remain as is, Danny finds the squeaky toy, he tells Valerie he doesn't own the dog -- although he also says that he belongs to the very same Lab that fired her dad -- she refuses his apology, Tucker pretends to get caught by the Axion security lab. Etc etc.

Danny later reveals that he also stole the records about the guard dogs and how Axion Lab wrongfully euthanized all of them in favor of a security system they didn't even end up using, and was planning on anonymously releasing it online so that Axion could face the consequences for their abuse. Tucker has to beg him not to, because then that would reveal that someone else had gotten into the lab that night and would put Valerie's dad in hot water again.

Danny... reluctantly agrees. For now. But he'll be holding onto it, and keeping his eye on Axion Labs. This sort of cruelty will not go unpunished forever, he'll make sure of it.

ending goes as ending does. They go to the dumpty humpty concert, they speculate where Valerie got her suit. Etc etc. At the lunch table I think Valerie stops by Tucker and co's table to talk to Tucker -- they seemed to end on a good note that night -- and she asks Danny how his arm is.

Danny eyes her quietly, and turns his head away. "It'll heal, so long as Trigger Finger stays away from me." and he does see Valerie wilt a little, and kinda feels bad. But also, she fucking shot him. He's lowkey less angry about that tho and more angry about her total weapon incompetence

-------

When its just Tucker -- and ykw, Sam too, who Valerie would know knows she's Red since she was yk, right there next to Tucker when he fell on Valerie -- and Valerie, he tries to reassure her about Danny's apparently grudge against Scarlett Hunt.

"Aw, chin up Val, I'm sure Danny will come around to your alter ego eventually! He just.. needs some time to heal! Literally, because you... shot him."

and when Valerie realizes Sam knows too, Sam points her pen at her and goes: "The only reason I haven't told Danny is because Tucker is also my best friend," she leans into Valerie's space; "But so help me Moses, if you shoot Danny again, I will not hesitate to tell him. And i will, in a heartbeat."

She leans back, crossing her arms; "So you better learn to control your finger, Trigger."

-

Danny having beef with Red Huntress in his civilian form was not actually in the original cards for this episode, but it came to me as I was writing and I could not pass it up. I think it'd be hilarious and also like, a real point of idk conflict for Valerie. Just one more reason she wants to be abetter ghost hunter because otherwise she'll hurt people -- shooting Danny left a mark on her, and she feels really really guilty about it. Especially after finding out it scarred.

And also it's like, objectively hilarious? It's like the Love Square from MLB but its more like a Hate Square instead. Granted Val and Danny don't hate each other but my point still stands! It's there if you squint.

Every single time Danny runs into Scarlett he calls her Trigger and asks her how her aim is, and whether she knows how to use that weapon of hers. Valerie is both very frustrated by his unwillingness to forgive her and very ashamed by the fact that she's frustrated by it. He has every right to be mad at her, she could've seriously hurt him -- and she did -- but still, his animosity is grating sometimes.

Danny does eventually get over her shooting him in his civilian form -- considering she shoots him all the time as a ghost. But what he refuses to get over is the fact that it happened at all and her lack of proper discipline before she decided to jump into the fray.

No no no, that he is still burning furious about. Tucker wasn't kidding when he said that Danny was passionate about proper weapon handling. The fact that Valerie didn't even acquaint herself with her weapons and learn how to use them properly before deciding to hunt down Cujo and Phantom is the thing that keeps his burning "hatred" against Scarlett as Fenton going.

Idk if it's ever actually confirmed that Valerie and Tucker are dating, its kinda implied that they started. But I'm gonna say that they were only in a talking stage (one that Valerie only initiated for her own needs) and after this episode it doesn't go anywhere, but they remain kinda friends. That way, Valerie can show up a few more times prior to Flirting With Disaster and lowkey hang with the gang without Tucker and Valerie actually dating.

So i was actually going to share a few more headcanons too with Gray Ghost, and delve into the "Flirting with Disaster" episode, but this got... really long, and took me all evening to write (curse adhd) so I am. not going to go into that jadlfh. Plus I have to think more about them and come up with more cute headcanons.

Like how Danny calls her affectionate petnames when they're dating/sorta-dating the moment he settles into the relationship and becomes comfortable with it. One morning when he walked into a class that they shared, he smiled at her all warm and fondly said "Good morning, beloved."

And normally that might sound too strong in the fledgling beginning of a relationship, but Danny somehow manages to make it sound super natural and not at all too-much-too-soon.

Literally everyone's jaw dropped in that room. They've never seen Danny act that way, and Valerie somehow manages to invent a new shade of maroon on her dark skin. She does this cute little giggle-snort and waves her hand at him bashfully. Danny looks very endeared.

Paulina turns to Dash and angrily demands to know why he doesn't call her any cute petnames that aren't babe.

Oh and before I forget: As Phantom, Danny calls Scarlett Hunt either "Scar" or "Little Red Riding Hood" (or some variant). It pisses her off, which he does really like doing. Also, compared to how he fights ghosts, he goes remarkably easy on her. He doesn't even unsheathe his sword for her -- which she does eventually notice and gets angry about. She thinks he's doing it to look down on her.

When it's not. She is Squishy Fragile Living Human In A Meat Shell. He is Immortal Ghost With Powers. And A Sword. And A Decade Of Assassin Training. He could kill her a dozen different ways if he didn't hold back like he is, and he doesn't want her dead.

okay okay that's all I've got for now BUT, as a bonus, while I was making those three different scenes for the coffee splash scene, I stopped midway because I got art bunnies for danny for the first time in forever, and went ahead and drew him. So!! Things in Threes Danyal doodle be Upon Ye!

[art-from-the-juice-box]

gen loss dump part 2 :]

i have a gen loss playlist so the last two was me hitting randomize and drawing a pic based on the song before it finished. the second one technically isn’t that cause charlie’s inferno isn’t on apple music cause they hate me so it’s way more of the song out of spite because they wouldn’t give it to me.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[quirkle2]

SUPAH MARIO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hella1975]

im gonna watch the atla live action so you dont have to someone pray for me

[autumnoakes]

me @ characters who were trained to be not much more than a weapon from a young age

(id: a quick drawing of a person holding what looks like a toy between very sharp teeth. their eyes are red and they're panting. they then start shaking their head viciously and are nothing but a blur)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy