#when I finally completed the quest i was happy until I realised my other characters will hear her again

[cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu]

Stuga "the number one stalker quest giver": DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU?

And I've been running away ever since.

those quest givers in ESO that run up to you

[jupitermelichios]

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

[kass-storycorner]

Hello!! i stumbled across your works and i absolutely fell inlove with your writing (especially the angsty ones)

Can i jump on the angst train and request a fic with a line that goes "I'm here, you dont have to wait anymore," with childe? Like maybe the reader told childe that theyll wait for him no matter how long it takes (and maybe a sprinkle of argument) but something happened that made the reader be on the brink of death. With or without comfort/happy ending is up to u!!

first of all thank you so much for the request! and it really makes me so happy to hear that you like my writing, especially my angst haha secondly I am so sorry that this took so long, since I saw this ask in my inbox I couldn't stop thinking about it and finished the first part of this pretty quickly - only to be stuck at how to end it (and actually fulfill the request haha). right now i am not really happy with the ending, though I feel like this is the best I can currently do! I really hope you enjoy, please let me know if it was alright haha (also I fear that I didn't really...wrote Childe in-character, I don't know)

Waiting for you

Genre: Angst, Hurt, comfort at the end

Characters: Childe x gn!reader (Childe is referred by is actual name by the reader, but outside of dialog he's called Childe)

Format: bullet points (backstory) + Text (actual fic, answer to the prompt)

Word count: 4324

Content warning: veeeery slight spoiler warning for the Liyue quests, its literally just one sentence and I tried to keep it as ambigious as possible, slight cursing (using the word bitch too, though thats the only instance of using gendered-vocab for the reader, i still wrote them gn!), mention of blood, mild violence, not proof-read ahah when will i ever do that

you can find the fic under the cut, have fun reading!

You and Childe knew each other since you were just little kids – him and his family being neighbours had meant you always ended up playing with him and his siblings, though you both got along the best.

On more than one occasion you both just ran off to somewhere no one could disturb you, your secret hideout, trading stories of great warriors from outside of Snezhnaya you heard the fishermen at the docks talk about.

Most people and children were wary of Childe, he was always the one who wanted to ‘play-fight’, which ended most of the time with the other kid running home, crying. However, you were the exception, always able to beat him or at least have a tie. Your parents, especially your father, hated it when you came back home with bruises on your arm, a bright smile and telling how you beat Childe up that day. He never felt like Childe was someone you should surround yourself with, but he kept quite for your younger years, also thanks to your mother who wasn’t fond of the fighting either but saw how much time with Childe meant to you.

Things however changed after Childe fell into the Abyss.

It was apparent how violent he got after it, even his own family was completely helpless when it came to him. So his father send him off to join the Fatui, which was a very controversial decision in the small town you both called home – most were happy to not have Childe be around anymore, for he picked up more and more fights and became more violent, but even within Snezhnaya the Fatui have a bad reputation, so most people were convinced that he would only become even worse.

Your father was one of those who was happy, but also concerned. Your mother died shortly after Childe fell into the Abyss, so your father forbade you any contact with Childe.

This, however, did not work. After Childe had to leave Morespesok you kept in touch through letters and whenever he was in town you always met up in secret.

The letters you send each other turned sweeter the older you got, changing the feelings for friendship you both felt for each other slowly into a romantic love. Childe always ended his letter with saying that he would return soon and you always with “I’ll be waiting for you Ajax”.

You always looked forward to his letters and so did he for yours. When he came back to Morespesok after every mission he had to do for the Fatui you both would meet up in your secret hideout. This place became your save haven. Conversations, hugs, kisses and even more – everything that wasn’t written in a letter between you two happened there.

Childe was fine with this and so were you. He didn’t want people to know there was someone he loved as much as he loved you, as one of the Harbringers of the Fatui it could endanger you. You on the other hand were fine with it because, even though you had no understanding for why your father forbad you the relationship with Childe, you couldn’t stomach to disappoint him. After all he was your father and you loved him dearly, no matter how much you both might disagree on things.

Still, you longed for something more – with Childe and for your own life. You wanted to travel too; you haven’t had the chance to leave Morespesok past the few neighbouring villages. So, when Childe wrote to you that after his next visit, which would only be a few days long, he was going to Liyue and didn’t knew for how long he had to stay there – you asked him in your reply if you could join him. Him writing that it wasn’t possible and better for you to stay in Morespesok and just wait for him hurt, but you understood. You are fine with waiting for him, you always were.

You were expecting a sad but loving last night with Childe before he had to leave, ending with a bittersweet goodbye. You weren’t expecting what happened instead.

Childe was angry, it was clear to see. The moment he stepped into your secret hideout you knew something was off – how he averted your eyes, how he didn’t return your kiss with a passionate one, like usual. “Ajax”, you purred in a sweet voice, “what’s wrong?”. You tried to take his hand, but he only pulled it away. Ah, that was unusual. He never refused your touch, no matter how angry he was before. “There is nothing wrong, I just was curious if there is something you want to tell me?”, he replied in a bitter tone, not even looking at you. It took you completely off guard; you saw him be angry or sulky before, you two had your fair share of arguments in the past, but somehow this was different. “No, there is nothing except for the fact that I missed you very much,” you told him, but you could feel how you started to become irritated. When you saw him two days ago visiting your family’s shop with Teucer he gave you a warm and loving smile, winking at you when he handed you that piece of paper asking to meet up tonight. What had happened in between that made him act like this? “Tsk, fine,” and with that he was on his way out. You moved quickly in front of him, blocking the way out. “Now wait a moment, would you kindly tell me what is going on here?”. He just quietly looked at you for a few seconds before he shoved you aside. “AJAX!”, you couldn’t hide your irritation and growing anger anymore, burying your fingers in his arm in order to stop him from leaving. “What did I do to make you be angry at me?”. ���It doesn’t matter”, Childe replied coldly, while trying to get you to loosen your grip on his arm. “Now let me go and run home to your father and your fiancé, I bet they are already asking where you are right now.” “My what?” you replied with bewilderment. “Childe, is that why you are angry with me? Because you think I am engaged to someone else?”. Honestly, you would find this situation hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that Childe still looked at you with a sour face. “Well, I don’t think you are engaged to someone else; I know you are. Your father was really excited about the whole thing when he told me, he even invited me to your wedding, granted if I could find the time.” As he said this, he noticed how your face was a combination of confusion and anger. And oh yes, were you angry. Angry at your father for telling such blatant lies and at Childe for believing them, confused as to why he would even believe your father in the first place. “Ajax, I-“you let go of his arm, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out a deep sigh. “I am engaged to no one, never was. I didn’t tell you this, because I didn’t want to upset you or worry you needlessly, but maybe I should’ve done it. My father continuously tries to marry me off whenever he finds anyone, he deems a worthy suitor. I guess he might have found one of your letters, though he never said anything about it, but I can’t explain why he suddenly started to become so interested in my marital status. Every few weeks he brings another person home, tells me I should marry them, for me to turn those poor fools down and tell my father he should stop. Most accept it that I have no interest in them, some stick around for a few weeks until the realise that nothing will come of it, but yeah. Ask anyone, Archons ask your family, it’s already a running joke here.” You expected the atmosphere to become less tense after you explained the whole situation to him, for him to even turn it into a joke and to apologise for his behaviour. Instead, it just grew more tense. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”, his voice still being cold, underneath it you could hear how angry he still was. “Because it wasn’t important, at least not to me. Honestly Ajax, I don’t see what the issue is here. I am not engaged and I do not plan to agree to one unless-“, you stopped yourself right there. ‘Unless it’s you who’s asking’, is what you wanted to say. You could feel how your heart fluttered even just at the thought. Childe, however, did not notice where you were going with your last sentence, too

occupied with his own anger. “Unless what?”. “It doesn’t matter, can’t we just drop the topic and enjoy our first and last night in months with each other without fighting?”, this was your last offer of peace, hoping he would finally calm down. But you knew deep down – Childe never was one to back out of a fight. “No no no, continue, tell me what you wanted to say!”, his voice growing louder and louder with every word. “Ajax, let it be,” you really weren’t in the mood for anything tonight anymore and the least you wanted to do was discuss your wish of a future with him. “No, I won’t. Tell me, because I would love to know. Or don’t, you can also just go and choose one of the various suitors your father picked out for you to fuck, I bet you really enjoy it how they are all standing in line for you,” he spit his words out, full of anger and disgust. This was the final straw for you, it was apparent that Childe choose words that he knew would hurt you with intent and it made you explode. “You know what? I’ve had enough!”, you screamed at him, feeling how tears were pooling in the corner of your eyes. Not out of sadness or because his words hurt, those were tears of pure rage. “You come in here, after I haven’t seen you in weeks, before you leave for an unspecified amount of time and all you have to do is pick a fight? Fine, here have a fight! You are unhappy that I didn’t tell you how my father wants to force me in a marriage I don’t want to be in? Boho, I am so so sorry for you Ajax. Really, I can’t fathom to imagine how much you must struggle with this, but oh well, life must be so hard when you keep travelling around Teyvat. Because I really can’t imagine how life would be outside this place, what it’s like to have anything to do. Have you ever noticed, ever realised how much I hate it? Hate the wating? Because that’s all I do! I wait for your letters, and I wait for you to return. All I ever do I wait, wait, wait. Wait for you to come home yes and wait for you to finally be ready for something, anything more!”, the tears were now streaming down your hot, angry face. Childe just looked at you, waiting for you to end what you had to say. “I am tired of waiting! I am tired of keeping us hidden, yes, I agreed to it too in the beginning, but now? Dammit, Ajax. I don’t want to be left alone here when you go to Liyue, I don’t want to wait if I don’t know for how long I should wait. I just- “it became harder for you to speak, sobs interrupting you every few seconds. “I wish you would let me join you.” Except for your sobs, which you tried to supress, silence fell over the two of you. Childe just stood there in front of you, watching how you tried to stop the tears. “You know I can’t take you with me. It’s… it’s not safe,” he said after a while. You didn’t expect for him to change his mind, however his words didn’t make you feel any better… on the contrary they made you feel even feel worse. “Leave me alone,” was all you could tell him in that moment. You didn’t want to have him near you, you didn’t want to see his stupid face or look at his sad, blue eyes. Right now, you only wanted to be alone. “(Y/N)”, Childe began softly, wanting to take you in his arms but the look you gave him made him stop dead in his tracks. “Please, I need to be alone now”. The atmosphere was heavy, both of you didn’t want to part on bad terms but – right now wasn’t the right moment to make up. “I will leave you alone, but (Y/N)”, he said, looking at you with regret about how he acted just earlier, “please wait for me.” You scoffed at his words. Wait for him, again. “(Y/N)”, you turned away, so you didn’t have to see his face when he spoke your name again. “(Y/N), please. Please promise me that you will wait for me, I’ll come back, I promise you and I will make up for this… and for making you always wait for me. I promise. You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” At the mention of the nursery rhyme you had to chuckle a bit. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend,

the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again,” you finished it, looking back at him. “Fine, I’ll wait. But leave now.” And with that Childe left you alone, leaving Morespesok for Liyue the next day.

It has been a few months now since Childe came to Liyue and while his endeavours here were more or less successful, what was on his mind most of the days was you and how you both parted. He wanted to kick himself in the arse for how he acted that day, for making you so angry and for making you cry. The worst however is how you haven’t written him a single letter yet and Childe, though he would never admit it because of his pride, was too scared to send you one first. That he should be the first one to send you a letter was something he was aware of but still – he couldn’t find the right words. What should he write? Every time he sat down at his desk, looking at the piece of paper in front of him… he was never able to make it past “Dear (Y/N)”, and even with this he wasn’t sure, maybe “Beloved” would sound better? Childe would’ve even considered asking Zhongli for advice, however after finding out that Childe was just a pawn in his plans – he still considers Zhongli a friend, but before he could ask for advice the feeling of betrayal needs to fade out. And now he got the order to return to Snezhnaya by the end of the next month… he felt so anxious at the thought of seeing you again, not even knowing what happened with you the past months. So in the letter to his family in which he announced is return, Childe asked them, after months of not hearing anything from or about you, how you were. When he held the letter of his family in his hands, he started to feel nervous, it included the answer of your wellbeing. He knew you would keep your promise, but still. What if when not? Reading the contents of the letter, however, made him wish that he had asked sooner. Childe couldn’t stop reading the few lines his family wrote about you over and over again.

You asked about (Y/N) wellbeing in your last letter. Ajax, we wish we could tell you some more pleasant news than this, but we haven't seen or heard anything of (Y/N) for a week now. No one really knows where they might be, the last we know is that they left their home after a fight with their father, but there is nothing more we can tell you.

After reading those few lines, the letter already crumply at the edges from the way he held onto it, Childe decided to immediately make his way back home. In his opinion it didn't matter if he returned sooner than ordered and that was a problem he will face later. For now, he wanted to know what had happened to you, because he couldn't, didn’t want to, believe that you left Morepesok... you promised that you would wait for him. But doubt crept into his heart and his mind - you were so frustrated with waiting, he noticed it before you even said anything that night. However, he kept ignoring it. It wasn't like that Childe didn't also wish for more, to build a home with you, to spend more time with you. The feeling of not being good enough for you, something your father and others in Morepesok made clear to him since your childhood together, and the fear of putting a visible target on your back by being by your side... all of it held him back.

The way back home only took him a few days and when he came close to his village, seeing the once so well-known roofs and chimney of the houses, he took a junction into the woods, making his way to the secret hideout of you two. When he arrived, he noticed how it looked lived in, at first a relive for Childe, until he saw the traces of a fight - and blood on the floor. He was quick to follow the trail of blood, the father he went away from the hideout the more blood was on the ground. Suddenly he could hear a strangers voice in the distance.

"Answer me you stupid bitch!", you felt a hand pulling you up by your hair, but you were already too tired, too beaten up and injured to even respond to that violent pull. All you tried to do was to keep your hands on your stomach, trying to stop the blood from gushing out. You could barely remember what had happened, how you got there. It all started over a week ago, when you father came with another suitor wanting to marry you. Like always you turned him down, saying you had no interest in marriage, this time however he wasn't as understand as the others were. The whole thing ended in you having a huge fight with your father about it, he tried to pressure you even more than usual to take that fella as your husband. It made you sick, you just couldn't stomach being around him anymore. You always wanted to make him happy, always feared of disappointing him. But this? Him asking you to marry a random person? It was something you just couldn't do. So you went away, ran out to the little hideout planning to stay there until Childe came back. You wanted to wait for him - you even got over your stupid pride and sent away a letter for him earlier this morning... and maybe this was your mistake. Carefully you tried not to be noticed by the people in your village, you didn’t want anyone to worry about you, however you also didn’t want to explain your disappearance for the last few days. The man who your father tried you to accept as a fiancé however seemed to have spotted you when you left the post-office. It was already too late when you realised that you were followed - the man made his way into the place that was only meant for you and Childe. After that your memory started to get blurry, how was that even possible it just had happened. He attacked you, you fought back, though the man was just stronger... you ran away, feeling the blood already coming from your stomach. Your body started to become weaker, your legs grew heavier and slower until you fell. Now he was above you, grabbing your hair and screaming. It was hard to even focus on what that man said to you, too tired grew your body and mind. 'I have to stay awake', you thought. It was clear that if you lost consciousness now... well, who knows what would happen then, you only knew it wouldn't be good. You had to wait for Childe, you had to be there when he got home.

There were more than a few things in Childes live he wished he never had to see. Seeing your limp body, blood streaming out of your stomach which you could barley cover with your hand, your hair in the hands of some stranger and your eyes struggling to stay open – yes, Childe wished this was something reserved for his nightmares, not for the reality he had to face now. It didn’t even take second for him to react at that sight, swiftly being next to that man and cutting his hand off with one of his blades, kicking the rest of him away. Childe would have loved to take his time with that man, torture him, make him regret that he was born, but what was more important was to stop your bleeding. Quickly Childe sat down next to you on the ground, using his scarf to stop the bleeding. “Ajax,” he could hear you whisper quietly. “Hey, I’m here, everything is fine, everything is going to be okay.” You desperately tried to keep your eyes open, to look at him. He was a mess, his eyes filled with fear and panic spread across his face. Never had you seen him with such an expression. For only what felt a few seconds you closed your eyes and then – “Hey, (Y/N) hey, open your eyes, talk to me”, you opened them and realised that you were in Childes arms now, his eyes switching from you to what was apparently the way to Morepesok. “Ajax…”, it was so cold. When did it became so cold again? “I waited for you and now you’re here… I waited. Kept my promise.” The last few words came out slurred. “Yes, I'm here, you don’t have to wait anymore. I promise you don’t have to wait for me ever again, just please-“ his breathing was heavy, he ran as fast as he could to the village in the hopes that the healers there could help you, that there was anyone who was able to help you now. “Please, don’t close your eyes, okay?” Before you could even answer him that you will try to keep them open you could already feel yourself slip out of conscious again. All you could say before everything went dark was his name again. “Ajax…”

The first thing you noticed was a warm hand on yours. Even before you opened your eyes you knew which hand it was. “Ajax,” you were a bit shocked at the sound of your own voice. It sounded so weak. You opened your eyes, seeing into those deep blue eyes looking at you. “(Y/N)”, he didn’t sound any better. Only now you started to notice the dark circles under his eyes and how his hair looked even messier than usual. Was he by your side the whole time? “How are you feeling?”. “Better than you apparently”, you joked, weakly grinning at him. He smiled back, rubbing the backside of your hand with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re better,” he replied quietly, looking down at the hand he was holding. “I’m glad you’re here.” At that his smile faded, turning into a sad expression and you already knew what this meant. “Don’t tell me…” “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even supposed to be here just yet and my early departure from Liyue apparently has caused some issues and… well, I was able to stay here until you woke up. The deal was when you wake up or-, well that doesn’t matter now. The deal was that I had to go back and fix the damage I caused once you wake up, which is honestly way more generous than I had anticipated.” You didn’t really understand what he was exactly talking about, you were still tired, but all you knew was that he had to go again. There wasn’t any energy left in your body to hold back the tears that were now falling down your face. Childe cupped your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “Hey, listen,” he said softly. “I promise you won’t have to wait for too long, when you recovered, I will send for you.” At this your ears peaked, looking at Childe with hopeful eyes. “Send for me, you mean-?”. “Yes, this time around I’ll be the one waiting for you to arrive in Liyue and not you’re waiting for me to come home.” At that you threw your arms around his neck wanting to hug him, causing you to hiss in pain. You forgot that you still had a stomach wound. “Careful now”, he laughed a bit at how enthusiastic you were about the news that you forgot your injury. “You promise that I will really join you in Liyue?”, you still couldn’t fully believe that he really was fine with it. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice,” you leaned back and held your pinkie up in the air. Childe smiled at you softly, interlocking his pinkie with yours. “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off, so you never lie again.”

[oswinsdolma]

Yes, it's nearly 2.00am (because that's apparently the only time I have inspiration to write essays) but I've been thinking a lot about this lately and wanted to get it off my chest, so here you go:

The main goal of Merlin becomes disturbingly fractured along the way, which opens up the gaps for the prophecy to seep through instead of following the expected channels, but it can essentially be boiled down to three key elements 1) build albion; 2) decriminalise magic and 3) save Arthur, but when all is said and done, we never really see any of those objectives achieved.

Now, there are a few reasons for this, both from a writing perspective and a plot perspective. The first, and one of the most obvious, is that this show loves irony. I won't go into a lot of detail here because I've already written a whole ass essay in this very subject, but in a nutshell, you can look at this from two perspectives: firstly, it's important to establish that this technique is purely about the angst: it's the writers' way of provoking a reaction from an anguished audience, but it's foreshadowed just enough to make it more painful than it is shocking. Alternatively, there is the more plot motivated irony in that it genuinely makes a good story. Irony is a technique that has been used for thousands of years, not just because it provokes a reaction from the audience, but because it allows you to explore your characters in greater detail than before, riddling them with hidden juxtapositions and internal conflicts that are never resolved quite in the way you expect. The irony in Merlin is the epitome of this, with the whole motif of Arthur needing to die for his reign to begin. It is a classic example of the simultaneous despair and hope that mocks you from the shadows.

Following this, there is another force at play that deals with half truths and seemingly imperfect contradictions, and that's prophecy. It's not really a secret that I have very strong feelings about prophecy and its effects on all the characters, Merlin in particular, and the fact that fate and destiny are such key themes in Merlin both makes perfect sense and wants me to smash my head into a brick wall. Prophecies are another common trope that often go hand in hand with irony (think Oedipus Rex, Macbeth, The Iliad, all that doomed hero shit that I inexplicably adore), the key to their influence over the plot often lying in how they usually come true in the most unexpected of ways. This links back to that initial theme of irony, but this isn't what makes me angry: what is infuriating is that prophecies tend to come true, no matter what, and most of the characters seem not only to know this, but to let it take their autonomy over their respective fates, driving them to disaster.

Let me elaborate: especially in season five (I'm assuming just for the added fall at the end), Merlin talks a lot about how "one day, things will be different". He tells sorcerers that one day they won't have to hide. That one day, they won't have to live in fear of who they are and what others think of them. And Merlin is right: while it is not explicitly stated, it's generally established that this is one of the things Merlin should actively be working towards. But here's the kick: except for a few specific circumstances, when has Merlin ever actively tried to change Arthur's mind about magic? Yes, he has taken a few opportunities, like with Dragoon saving Uther's life, or with the Dolma's final request, where he has encouraged Arthur to rethink his choices, but otherwise, his support has been lukewarm at best. Instead, his primary concern was always saving Arthur, so he can become the king the magical world hoped he'd be, but he left out a crucial part, trusting in the prophecy to fill in the gaps. He knew it would come true, but it was, almost predictably, in the one way he never dared to expect.

And in a twisted way, there's that thread of irony again: Merlin thought he was saving Arthur so he could one day become the king who would see magic as a force for good, but instead, he created someone who was merely a survivor. It was Kilgharrah who said it first, and he who would mention it last: they are two sides of the same coin. But as willing as Merlin was to give his life for Arthur, and vice versa, he was never really ready to give him his mind.

Another interesting thing to note is Merlin's fixation on the "Saving Arthur" lens of the prophecy over the "Restoring Magic" part. Now, there are a ton of ways you can look at this, depending on how far along the scale of Queer Analysis you are, so I'm going to try and address a couple. At one end of the scale, you have the fairly simple and very believable "merthur" take. This basically boils down to the fact that Merlin and Arthur may or may not be deeply in love with one another, and that drowns out any voice of reason that may unfold. This is actually fairly canon compliant, particularly looking at incidents such as the Disir, when Merlin chooses Arthur over his and his people's freedom, though that choice was clearly, in hindsight, misadvised.

At the other end of the spectrum, there is the idea that it is the work of Kilgharrah, Gaius and other responsible figures in Merlin's life when he was new to his role in destiny, who reiterated at every occasion that Arthur must be protected at all costs. This may have ingrained into Merlin's thoughts and influenced his decisions from here on out.

Between those two points, there is a grey area, and I am of the personal opinion that neither extreme entirely satisfies the situation. For me, I think the characters in question are far too complex to have such simple motivations, and that the true reason lies somewhere between the two: Merlin undoubtedly cares for Arthur, and while at the start, his actions in protacting Arthur may have been driven by other (largely superficial) motives, over time, their mutual affection blossomed to the point where certainly the more personal quests were motivated not by need, but by love. However, there is a divide here, and while the line in the sand smudges from time to time, it never really disappears: a lot of instances in which Merlin is trying to help Arthur are entirely overshadowed by destiny, and in time, Merlin comes to accept that Arthur and Destiny are, in fact, one and the same, and this is where that ever-present tragedy lies. For all he truth in here, Merlin doesn't get everything quite right: he sees Arthur as a balance that needs to be protected, without fully realising that he doesn't just have to keep the sides of his equation in equilibrium, but he actually has to start solving them if he wants them to endure.

Having just said all that, sometimes I decide to fuck over complexity for a few hours purely because I am a shameless merthur hoe.

Also, can you take a moment to please note that this last section is highly subjective and it is completely up to you as to what you decide!! This is just my opinion and you're welcome to agree or disagree at any point.

So, aside from the Angst Factor™ and twisted character development, why was the main goal never fulfilled? Unfortunately, that is a question far cleverer people than me can only speculate, as the writers alone know the answers, but I'm going to give my opinion a shot. Honestly, there is something beautifullly poetic about something that never ends, or ends when there could be something more. Humanity has struggled with endings-and beginnings- since it learned truly how to think, because that kind of finality, that inkling that there might have been nothing before and after something else is incomprehensible. In leaving Merlin in a place where the next point was uncertain, the writers left the story open for us. In depriving us of that catharsis, they effectively made sure that the story would never be over, not until we want it to be. And yes, it was painful. I can't think of an ending that was more heartbreaking than that curious mixture of closures and openings all at the same time (hell, I could write a whole essay based on this concept alone!), but it was also a gift, ironically like that of the prophecy itself in that we can choose what we want to do with it, safe in the knowledge that there will be a happy ending again, one day.

In summary, we might not be left with catharsis in the way we wanted. We might not have got the happy ending that could also have stretched on and on indefinitely. But we were left with something else, something equally beautiful as closure, but in the complete opposite way. Amongst the remains of allwe had hoped to build, Merlin left us hope.

[hawkeish]

Those prompts are so hard to choose from! But how about "We were dancing but all of a sudden it’s a slow song and we’re standing here awkwardly staring at each other" for whoever you feel like writing?

I am SO sorry it's taken me an entire month to finish this (writer’s block is the worst am I right ladies!). But I love this prompt - although I took a few liberties - and it screamed Carver/Merrill, so here you go...

Rated T, CWs for implied character death, death mention

1.9k (I have no restraint)

Read on AO3 // Read my other Carver/Merrill fic (it’s referenced a couple of times)

Carver’s perfectly happy where he is.

Leaning against the rough stone wall with a drink in hand, that is. Watching Ri make a tit out of herself, as usual.

The Hanged Man’s packed, warm as a funeral pyre and smelling almost as ripe. Word obviously got round that it was the night before the big expedition: half of Lowtown must be squeezed in here. They’re all eager to toast with Kirkwall’s most eminent storyteller and his new, stabby, impulse-control-free muse, before they set off on their quest for riches and honour and whatever other noble shite lies abandoned beneath the surface.

At least, that’s how Varric’s telling it. Carver’s not sure exactly what’s noble about plundering some dead dwarves’ abandoned thaig. But if it makes his mother happy and his sister finally proud—and if it means his longbar blade can taste the innards of as many darkspawn as he could dream of, for Beth—he’s not going to argue.

Strange to think this is his last night on the surface for a while. And that he’s spending it here, of all places. Something in him flutters with worry at the thought as he tries to tune out the musicians from over in the corner, who’ve kindly decided to abuse some lutes and fiddles. Could this be his last ale? The last full moon he’ll ever see? The last chance he’ll get to be with all these irritating people in one room, together?

But worry’s for bairns and people who can’t hit hard enough to knock teeth out. So Carver buries his nerves with another swig of his drink, then settles back against the wall and does what he likes to do best: observes.

Like some silver-tongued dragon lazed upon a wordhord, Varric’s planted himself on the tallest stool at the bar, surrounded by the usual mob of ruddy cheeked patrons eating up his every word. Half of which will be lies, but that’s good for business; the Hawkes wouldn’t be in on this trip if Varric had a predilection for honesty, after all. Beside him, Isabela’s flashing a grin sharper than her knives and adding flowery embellishment any time Varric pauses for effect. Across from her, Aveline’s desperately trying to counter whatever salacious gossip the pirate’s spreading. Judging by the look on the warrior’s face, it doesn’t seem to be working.

Meanwhile, Ri’s by the fire with Anders, unsurprisingly. She’s tipsy, attempting to flirt by playing demon’s advocate; he’s taking her bait and gesticulating wildly, like usual. They’ve been spending a strange amount of time together recently. Debating—mage this, mage that, freedom, whatever. Carver wouldn’t normally care, only these arguments leave them both blushing and breathless and grinning like fools, and the whole thing’s slightly sickening. Of course Marian would be interested in the possessed apostate. Reckless infatuation is a Hawke family trait.

Whatever they’re banging on about now, it’s drowned out by the music, thank the Maker. If Fenris could hear, the mood wouldn’t be half as merry. But, Carver realises, as his eyes dart around the bustling room in search of that familiar flash of white hair, Fenris is occupied.

In the middle of the tavern, they’ve haphazardly shoved the tables and benches to the side, to make a little space. And in the centre of that dusty, empty floor, as the music gets much faster and much worse, Fenris is dancing.

With Merrill. Who’s got hold of the other elf by the wrists and is whirling him around in a mad circle, looking delighted—maybe more delighted than Carver thinks he’s ever seen her. Eyes wide as moons, smile wild and even wider. And Maker, she looks lovely, too. Cast in a hazy golden glow by the torch-flame, she moves so easily that all Carver can think of is sunlight…

Andraste’s flaming ass. Carver pulls his gaze away, forces himself to gulp some beer, tries to ignore the weird feeling wriggling around his ribcage. Don’t do this, he thinks. Since the moment by the vhenadahl, he told himself he wouldn’t think about Merrill this way. Merrill, his sister’s friend. Merrill, the blood mage. She’s not sunlight. She’s—

“Merrill!” Fenris squawks. The sound knocks Carver from his fluster; he’s not sure he’s ever heard Fenris squawk before. But the warrior looks almost panicked, and very much as though he wishes that he could melt into the floor. “Can you please let me—”

“Not like that!” She’s saying excitedly, pulling at Fenris’ arm, nudging him with her knee and the pointed tips of her toes as he tries, desperately, to wriggle out of her grip. As if egged on, the musicians suddenly strike up a different—but in no way better— jig. “Left foot first, remember, then you hop back a bit, then clap! Oh, you’re like a toddler! Or a little halla foal…”

Fenris makes a strangled noise of protest. “I am not! And I do not wish to hop, Merrill—”

Merrill laughs: the sound’s like chimes, floating over the new reel, and it makes Carver’s skin prickle and flush in that weird, horrible, lovely way. “You have the rhythm, Fenris! Just follow what I do!”

Fenris does have the rhythm. The exact moves, no—although whatever the exact moves are, Carver can’t work out: there’s a lot of spinning and and whirling and jumping and, on Fenris’ part, flailing in many directions. But at least Fenris is doing all the wrong actions at all the right times. There’s something almost hypnotic about it, almost graceful. Between the two elves, Carver doesn’t know where to look.

Knowing where he wants to look is a different matter. Even with Fenris as distraction, Carver’s gaze can’t help but drift past him, to Merrill. She has her eyes half-closed and her head tilted to the sky, a perfect smile on her face—

“Carver!”

And then her head’s whipped around, her eyes are open and locked right on him, and her smile’s so bright and so caught-off-guard that it’s making Carver feel slightly lightheaded. Because Fenris has finally managed to slip out of her hold, has called Carver’s name loud enough to wake the dead—or the very drunk—and is charging towards him like a man possessed.

“Oh no,” Fenris declares drily, as he bridges the gap and pulls Carver’s near full-to-the-brim mug of ale from the warrior’s hands in one, smooth movement. “Just as I thought! It looks like Carver needs another drink.”

He does? Carver blinks down at his empty hands, then up at the elf. “I do?”

Looking him dead in the eye, Fenris smiles wickedly and proceeds to tip most of Carver’s beer onto the straw-covered floor.

“How clumsy of me!” Fenris declares drily. “It appears I owe you some of…” He wrinkles his nose at the damp straw. “Whatever that was.” Then, he claps Carver on the shoulder, the grin returning. “Well, what a shame I can’t return to Merrill. Enjoy your dance!”

Fenris’ friendly shove is hard enough to almost throw a man to the floor: Carver stumbles forward, almost toppling over, knocking into sweaty bodies. A mess of people has started to pack the dance-floor, merry and boisterous; they jostle Carver as he steadies himself, red-cheeked and mumbling apologies. Embarrassment fizzes in his stomach—pressed so close to strangers, he’s suddenly even more aware of his height and...well, brawn. Where Fenris was graceful and lithe, Carver’s a lump, taking up too much space. Although he can dance, kind of. He used to dance for Bethy, didn’t he? To make her laugh when she was upset. Carver’s special jig, she called it.

He hasn’t danced in a long time. Even when he’s been rat-arsed, or when Ri’s needed cheering up. Since Beth died, really. He’s not done a lot of things since she died. Perhaps, he thinks, a part of him went with her. Perhaps, he thinks, if he meets his own end in the Deep Roads, it wouldn’t be so bad—

“Carver!” comes a voice, cutting past the singing and the music and the thud of dozens of feet moving as one. “Carver, are you all right?”

And then Carver realises that he’s stood stock-still in the middle of a whirling mass, thinking of a dead girl, staring at nothing.

No. Not staring at nothing. Staring, he realises, as his vision focuses, directly at Merrill. Who’s stopped dancing, a frown clouding her features: she weaves past revellers, slipping through a gap in the crowd in front of him, until there’s barely a whisper of space between them.

A knot of nerves coils in Carver’s gut. The air’s warm as sin, but there’s gooseflesh prickling across his arms, and a weird chill running down his spine. The last time they were this close was beneath the sprawling branches of the vhenadahl. And look how that went.

“Me?” he answers, not sure where to look again. She’s all red-cheeked and breathless from dancing, and her eyes are sparkling, and Maker, he needs to stop. “Fine. I’m fine! I’m just…”

“Stood completely still,” Merrill notes. “In the middle of a… what was it?” Dodging a rogue elbow, she edges closer to him; somehow, even the smallest of her movements flow in time with the music swelling around them. “A ceilidh? We have a different name for dances like this. I’m not sure one of the moves we have is standing still, though. But you do it well. Very pensive. You’d make a fine statue.”

Is she taking the piss? Is she flirting? Carver’s muscles tighten as he becomes even more horribly aware of her presence. Slowly, palms clammy, he nods. “A ceilidh, yeah.”

“And you’re meant to have a partner for this kind of thing, no?” Merrill asks. “At least, that’s what I thought, although Fenris seemed a bit less…enthusiastic.”

Partners. Two people, dancing. Could he ask...

No. She wouldn’t want to. Not with him. The kid brother. The layabout. Why would she agree? Probably just to be polite, right? She’s always polite. And kind, and warm, and clever—

“Partner? I—yeah,” Carver mumbles again, trying to compose himself. Maker, why does she make him feel so muddled? So much for being less of a wet blanket. “I think.”

“Well.” She gestures to the other revellers, who’ve now started actively dancing around them, shooting them glares vicious enough to wilt flowers. “We look slightly silly, don’t we? Did you maybe…want to dance? With me, I mean. Although of course I meant that. Creators, listen to me.”

Dance. Does Carver want to dance, with Merrill?

No, he tells himself. Not at all. Not in front of everyone. Not front of his sister, who’ll never fucking shut up about it for the rest of her days.

Yes, everything else in him hollers. For they must look a bit ridiculous. And it is his last night up here. And, most of all, because Merrill’s looking at him in a way that makes him feel dizzy. The music’s suddenly slowing, softening, and for some reason, everything feels right.

A heartbeat passes.

Carver nods.

Merril doesn’t say anything, just smiles—a bright and blinding smile, one that makes everything around them fade to grey. Then, gently, she reaches out to take his hands, turns them over, and rests her palms on top of his.

“Follow what I do,” she murmurs, drawing her gaze up from their hands to him.

As the music slips away, and he can feel Merrill’s soft fingertips balanced light as air on his upturned wrists, Carver is perfectly happy where he is.

[vr2]

i think kaeya’s suffocating one-way loyalty to others, especially diluc, is one of my favourite parts of his character. an inhumanly knightly ideal stretched transparent, gauze-thin to try and obscure the deficit of your own personhood. like clawing shut a black hole with bloodied fingers but still finding it weeping uncontrollably, hysterically. it’s not exactly self-sacrifice but more like some ill-fated way of seeking validation, plunging yourself into the dark to reaffirm that there is something light, barely alive, faintly flickering within. something worth saving, something human after all. its knowingly asking a question that cannot be answered or taken back. an irreversible change of state is the culmination of rubedo, the metamoprhic stage preceding it symbolized by the peacocks tail, cauda pavonis. understanding the true weight of flesh without blood is to kill the creature beforehand, but this is the only way a true value can be known. childhood dreams denature into scar tissue, charred memories leave a bitter taste in your mouth no matter what you wash it down with. twisting the knife to feel agony once more, confirmation there was some soft underbelly to to the beast, still made of blood and bone, steel carapace and blood-dark claws nothing more than bygone idles. this body can catch alight, can burn brilliantly. this maddening fragility can only be human.

an enduring but deceptively frail nature. i think most of his potential as a character is just waiting for him to shatter and reveal what exactly is left underneath it all like a kinder surprise! but the surprise is abject misery compounded upon whatever fucking awful events would have to cause him to break cleanly in two. i think, naturally, if left to his own devices with little change other than his tentative limbo with diluc, the niggling fear of his truth being exposed and his true utter loneliess, rather than breaking, kaeya would slowly be eroded with time. already well entrenched in the safety of his masks in the city he all but rules, slowly the glaciers hes built turn into the sea and without realising it one day he’d be stranded in an ocean of his own making completely and utterly desolate. eventually kaeya will find himself swalloed by the abyss and he will not struggle as the water comes to claim him.

as fun as that is i think there are much more interesting avenues to go down. for all kaeya is mond’s glacial cavalry captain he’s paradoxically also characterised by his emotional vulnerability. and i just think it’s delicious to prey on that and have some extreme emotional distress that tears him apart. although it’s never alluded to ingame outside of jean’s story quest it seems that kaeya orchestrates a lot of things and is relatively deeply involved with the personal lives of many characters who could not particularly offer him anything in return. specifically jean, klee, lisa and amber. somehow slowly he has scraped together some semblance of friendship and camraderie if not outright family. with him being abandoned twice over, one more final abandonment making kaeya compeltely lose all sense of reality would utterly break him for the last time. like realising all this time, all this change, everything yous aid and did was not only pointless but it was a distraction. the ice beneath your feet is is cracking even if you screamed for help you’d simply be damning another person to die with you, selfishly, thoughtlessly, cruelly. realising your purpose was nothing so grand, but with lies and misdirection they sent you to die in the snow convincing yourself a martyr. there is nothing to catch you, nothing to hold onto but whatever is lurking beneath. you can at least trust a beast to be beast, you were denied to live amongst the land of men but in the depths of the abyss you monsters you call your kin reach out to you, knowing. its only a matter of control now, to either fall off of the edge of the world or dive into it.

like a bird trying to swim beneath the water and finally succumbing to the waves. abandon yourself to your fate. revel in it, drink it down in huge gulps, fall into the spiral and dont look up, don’t acknowledge any other ending than this. there is no use making wishes, the stars are not listening.

i think the event that makes kaeya lose his tenuous grip on reality will actually be completely unnoticeable to anyone who doesnt particularly know him ie other than maybe jean, rosaria and diluc. kaeya will not endanger mond directly, but he is aware, that when he falls, so does a pillar of mond’s defence. he will not raise his sword against the place that gave him a wonderful illusion of belonging but he will not save it either, there was no way for him to understand this land of wind, as someone who was born not knowing the sky.

kaeya would mostly act as usual but there’s something distinctly off-kilter. his usual teasing more strange and obtuse, his usual silvertongue tempered into something more humble, cut with a strange truthfulness, a quiet gentleness of a youth from long ago. as if the captain had suddenly turned back time, as if slowly opening up and blooming like a flower. jean is happy to see kaeya smile again, even if she knows it if an affectation of a memory of a memory. she feels like the anemo archon had gifted him wings, this lightness a blessing she should be thankful for rather than weighed down with niggling worry for her oldest friend. rosaria finds it rather liberating, feeling as if kaeya has finally had the strength to shake off the great weight he carried, that burdensome melancholy has finally thawed. if it was not for the face master diluc is making at him however, she might have missed how wide and unseeing that smile seems.

diluc would be torn. there is something wrong with kaeya. but at the same time isn’t this what he wanted? perhaps in another life if kaeya ragnivindr had the chance to grow up, to bloom into adulthood, this is what he’d be. there is a childish softness he had thought he had burned away, the specter of a boy from another life warm and real before you. that makes something in his throat catch, the back of his eyes ache. diluc would feel tormented, kaeya surely had found some peace but here diluc has convinced himsef its ill-gotten. theres a warring inside him of wanting to reach out and hold this person you’ve never seen before, lest the disappear like snow come dawn and at the same time dig your fingers into it, sift through it until its in pieces before you and find what must exist in the heart of this illusion, even if it means tearing it to pieces. its often, often, he curses demanding the truth. honor and code and chivalry mean nothing any more but he has chosen the path and he can no longer go back. because now it means he cannot leave this kaeya, who can at least pretend to smile like he used to, intact. even this short reprieve must be burnt away.

questioning kaeya is painful, he uses his truthful emotions to disarm and its impossible to get anywhere. kaeya knows what hes doing. if he must be a liar to the end, he will give them the grandest, most beautiful illusion he can create. he pulls on his own strings until he feels them dig into skin, closing around his throat. choking down all his childish wishes to be saved, and turning once more to the audience. smothering it is the kinder alternative than to let the small voice in his heart live, take pitiful struggling steps and have to watch it fizzle and die out with a whimper under the weight of the world. the show must go on, such a mundane performance is not worthy of the king of khaenriah.

kaeya has always known that no matter how he comes to the finale, he has his part to play. in the end his choices dont matter, nobody has ever let kaeya have anything but (a photograph set alight by the fireplace. black satin ribbons tied in neat loopy bows, order in unruly heads of hair, scratchy facial hair against your cheek, the smell of cologne and grapes, not yet wine, three bodies curled on an armchair, a book of fairy tale held in two sets of hands. there is hole is in the center). his body has always belonged to khaenriah, his sword to the knights of favonius, his life to mond. there a quiet vindictive selfishness still, of owning and having complete control of your heart. one ill retaliation that gurgles out of your throat and takes the form of half-aborted laughter spilling out like tar, like sickness. turning the world upside down and righting your positions. kaeya sets the board to its rightful place.

is it still falling if you jump? no need to fear of someone letting go, if you had no intention of holding on. one final indulgence, one last rebellion. the childish vindictiveness of taking something from someone and not giving it back, getting the last laugh even if you laugh alone.

the peacock stage in alchemy, is the stage of transcendence, to destroy the original form and purify it to its final rubedo. the peacock must be swallowed by the phoenix. burning through its brilliant colours to achieve the transmutation between the mundane and divine. this is the the purpose of the cauda pavonis. it is to represent a form that is to be destroyed to achieve completion. a sacrifice.

to kaeya, knowing his purpose yet still foolishly living beyond it is the thing that truly truly sinks its teeth in. knowing that everything he built will be destroyed and he must allow it for being foolish enough to build it in the first place. he knows his impermanence and yet still he is beside himself with a festering rage called humanity creeping into his bones. having no way to process this as anything other than some inherent malignant evil that must be intrinsic to himself, i think kaeya takes ‘pleasure’ in not only burning that bridge but proving to everyone that he was an awful person who deserved this and he really is getting the last laugh. and truly there is something about it, for once, destroying something for your own pleasure. even if it is taking your own chance of redemption, that weak-hearted hopefulness and crushing it between your teeth, finding your saviour just to spite their naivety. the onyl thing left ot destroy is yourself so kaeya will make it absolute and spectacular! a performance seen this night and never again.

but the just straight up sacrifice for the sake of devotion, feeling as if he truly has nothing left but himself and he is his own person to destroy, his only act he can take, the only move on the board is sexy too. in another world, those deeper desires never breaking the ice, layers of permafrost scarred over and scratched raw - idle fantasies of love and forgiveness and belonging, mundane dreams reserved for better people - that could not be burnt out of you that night, like your hair, like your hands, like your flesh, like your heart. an ashen taste that lingers, a bitter aftertaste ever present no matter what you try and wash it down with. you can at least appreciate that the ache of your lungs filling with water, with wine, with the heavy weight of lies -- you can imagine you will sink, heavy with this grief. no one can change this punishment you have decided for yourself, they cannot save you without your consent. you see an invitation to be smothered, for your death to have a purpose, just as your life and birth had predetermined value, how could you deny such a privilege?

what is this if not a final act of devotion? to who, it’s undecided. but the fact you have burnt through this life for others, that you have bled for them, have been their hope, perhaps with this you can finally earn the title of a good man in their eyes. but your own dull gaze is the only one that looks back at you.

to think of their faces, their names, their warmth would sully this divine duty with pointless sorrow so you would close your eyes and clutch at the chest, where an abyssal heart would beat fast and scared, a betrayer and coward til the end. in the cold water, the outline of a dream, the gauzy silhouettes of people you loved, the light of the sun cast shadows across lands both alien and comforting, and, and - anything at all would be worth it. anyone but you.

perhaps this is simply the end. the final act lay unwritten for there is no point writing words that will never be read. perhaps the mask has slipped and you never noticed, insisting the show must go on when there is no one to play to. a performer perpetually stuck on the stage, turning about the head of a pin, boring into you with every revolution. 

the depths of the abyss, pale in comparison to a gaping maw of this despair so wide, that this ocean is nothing but shallow waters to you. walking into the sea, with sword in hand, a sickness in the form of a love that is incomprehensible and cold. to finally rest free, a sojourn with no hope of return a voyage to far away from here. kaeya alberich falls to the end of the world and you will not save him.

as well and good all this rambling is, i think my favourite rendition of kaeya alberich shattering into tiny little pieces is to the tune of ‘kelly clarkson - since u been gone’

[whirlwott]

linking back to what i last said....

( quick summary: huey getting bullied & that possibly being a episode plot with della or boyd or someone )

i’ve been trying to think about what the arcs could be for huey, dewey & louie in season 3 and maybe this is hueys? maybe it’s too early to tell, but huey feeling left out and alone could be a very crucial factor of his character development this season. obviously, as seen in astro boyd, it’s clear that huey isn’t exactly popular and is bullied for his love for the junior woodchucks and everything being perfect. maybe his arc in season 3 could be to do with him being left out and needing to realise he’s perfect the way he is.

it’s also kind of shown in challenge of the senior junior woodchucks that huey wants to prove himself and be successful at something. because he doesn’t have a lot of friends / sometimes is made fun of, he feels the need to be the best at something to prove he’s not a loser. he’s desperate to beat violet, even going out of his way to disregard the woodchuck rules, something he lives his life around, to finally get people to see he’s talented and worth appreciating. it’s also seen slightly in the internal internship of mark beaks as huey competes against dewey for the spot as an intern with mark beaks. he so desperately wants this internship, to show he’s successful and worth sometimes and when dewey comes along and manages to do better than him without trying, he feels sad and unwanted - like what he’s doing is pointless and that the situation is unfair.

being in a family, especially one like his, when there’s so many of them, it’s got to be so hard for him to get attention. for example, look at dewey. dewey is easily the most alike the rest of his family, besides donald, scrooge, della & dewey all crave adventure. dewey loves to explore and go on daring quests and would do anything to go on them. he tries to find an adventure in everything he does and because of his talkative and outgoing personality, he gets attention. huey, as much as he adores adventure, doesn’t get the exact same thrill from it. he likes the adventures bc he can use his junior woodchuck skills on them and he likes a challenge and none of his family are exactly like him like dewey is della & scrooge. now, while louie doesn’t exactly enjoy adventuring and would much rather stay at home, he wants to be rich like scrooge. his adventure is wanting to become as successful as scrooge so they both relate to each on that part. and louie got the attention from della at the end of season 2 when he went back in time. della now understands how louie acts even though he doesn’t exactly relate to the family. whilst scrooge is smart and della was a junior woodchuck, they don’t share the same love that huey does for the group & book. huey is also the eldest sibling, which means that he feels he has to be the responsible one and lead for dewey & louie, this is a normal older sibling trait. but it’s especially seen in huey because of all the personality in his family so he feels he has to show he’s the elder sibling, he just wants to be appreciated. so because huey feels like he can’t relate as much to his family, he really likes hanging out with fenton at the lab, they relate to each other; they’re both under appreciated, fenton by gyro and huey by his family.

after we have seen astro boyd, we’ve seen how huey truly feels. huey clearly isn’t popular amongst his other junior woodchucks and doesn’t have a lot of friends. but now, we’ve got boyd. when huey meets boyd, he’s excited to finally have someone who understands him - boyd is the friend who huey has been waiting for. boyd likes to follow along with the guidebook and boys likes to show he’s smart, even though he’s a robot and just comes smart. throughout the episode, we see huey going out of his way to prove that boyd isn’t evil. he constantly is trying to tell and show gyro that boyd is good because he’s just so happy to finally find someone like him. when they both go on their little adventure together, it’s clear huey is having more fun than he has had in a long time, finally with someone who enjoys all the same things as him.

here’s a quote from astro boyd between boyd and huey:

huey: are you sure you’re not bored? my brothers are usually begging me to stop. boyd: are you kidding? i’m having so much fun!

huey is so insecure about what everyone thinks and says that he feels like he’s making boyd annoyed too. he’s so used to everyone disregarding what he says that he doesn’t believe that boyd is actually having fun. he’s become accustomed to him not being important and everyone finding him irritatating that when boyd says he’s enjoying himself, huey is elated. he even goes and sticks the photo of him and boyd into his junior woodchuck guide, the one thing he would never tamper with. he values and appreciates his friendship with boyd so so much that he spends the entire episode proving he’s good. he’s so happy when he’s finally fully good at the end, showing he was right all along and his friendship with boyd is here to stay.

so huey’s arc, where from here? i’d definitely love to see more of his friendship with boyd and then getting to make more amazing memories together. his arc could be him figuring out that he’s perfect the way he is. as sad as it’s gonna be, possibly seeing huey being bullied more may be a good thing for his character. in an episode, he could maybe be bullied so much that he completely disses the idea of being a junior woodchuck completely. he changes himself and tries to be more “normal”. obviously, his family will be very confused and wonder what’s up with him. boyd could also be featured in this episode and maybe even huey gets mad at him? like boyd continuously tries to talk to him about what’s going on until suddenly huey just shouts at him and tells him being a woodchuck and following rules is stupid. this episode could also be a good chance to see della’s maternal instincts kick in. she’s going to want to sort out what’s wrong with huey and she could be pestering him and suddenly he just snaps and cries. this is a whole new field of experience for della and as much as she’s going to want to beat those kids up, she’s going to have be mature and comfort huey. we could get such a heart warming scene and i’m honestly tearing up just thinking about it. maybe even dewey & louie could step in an comfort huey, telling him that they love him just the way he is and they could apologise for “always begging” huey to stop. PLUS i would very much like to see them and webby destroy the bullies like yes :)

at the end of the season, we could finally see huey being happy with himself and much less insecure. maybe his woodchuck skills could be the way f.o.w.l is stopped??? 🤔🤔

idk these are just some ideas whirring in my head but i just hope that huey gets the best arc possible

anyways,,,, i love huey duck the end 🥺

[laureviewer]

Dragons Quest XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age—A Review

WARNING: (not full) spoilers below.

‘We did it darliiiings!’

That’s what I cried, a-la the Great Sylvando, once I finished this game. 112 hours in, and all the way through it showed no signs of slowing. Which, for a shameless JRPG-lover like myself, is exactly what I want in a game. Hours and hours of combat, exploration through stunning scenery, empathetic and deep characters and, most importantly, a completely immersive and entertaining story that I can’t wait to see the climax—but, crucially, I can.

The Chosen One

The story begins in Erdrea, where monsters have invaded the fantastical world—why, we’re not quite sure. All we know, as the infant protagonist, is that we are found washed up on the riverbank by a kindly old man named Chalky, who takes us to his village and gives us to our adoptive mother, Amber.

And, guess what? He’s the Chosen One—the Luminary. You’d have thought our hero would have realised something was different about him with the presence of a very specific birthmark tattooed on the back of his hand, but he and his childhood friend Gemma do come from a sheltered town with very little knowledge of the outside world, after all. True to form for a lot of adventure games, he’s the only one who can save the world. After finding this out in a coming-of-age ceremony a few years later, Amber tells him to go to King Carnelian of Heliodor, who is sure to help him understand what all this means. Right?

If our silent protagonist could talk, this is where he would be screaming, ‘I’m not the Darkspawn!’ as King Carnelian throws him in the dungeon. But thank Yggdrasil he did, or we wouldn’t meet our first companion in our band of loveable misfits.

The Power of Friendship

I’m still unsure why, after so many hours of gameplay, why Erik endears himself the most to me, but he does. Sure, he’s the first one you meet, and you team up to escape the dungeon (running from a giant dragon along the way!), but he’s also a dishonest thief. Throughout the game, you never quite know if he’s in it for himself or to help you save the world. I’ve concluded that he’s actually doing it for you, and your budding bromance…or, at least, that’s my own head cannon. He’s misunderstood. His cutting sarcasm is welcome in a story of overly keen optimists (see: Sylvando). And he’s who the hero seems to look at whenever there’s a sweet, sentimental moment in the story, cementing their true friendship.

Or, maybe it’s because Akira Toriyama drew these characters, and his colourful hair and spunky attitude remind me of my childhood DBZ crush, Trunks. Either way, I’m Team Erik, with his knife-wielding, quick-thinking style of fighting, all the way. My only gripe is that his damage wasn’t that great for me until endgame, unfortunately.

Even though we don’t meet Sylvando until later, it seems that my mind demands he be the next to discuss—much like Sylvando demands much of the attention within the game. We first meet him at the circus, where he is a beloved performer. His quest is to make the people of the world smile—a noble endeavour in a world where the Dark One is coming to rid the world of happiness for good. He is the absolute epitome of flamboyance: he calls your band of companions ‘darlings’; he has a half-naked ship captain with bulging muscles and a pink face mask called Dave, of all things; and he even leads a peacock-feathered parade at a certain point in the game, which the hero must cheerily join in, feathers and sassy sway absolutely necessary.

And yet, he doesn’t simply function as comic relief. He is brave, charming, sympathetic, and quite often the heart of the group. He is always the one to ask if a character is okay, or if they need help, and has conviction that only Henrik, our resident knight in shining armour, would rival. Plus, he’s fantastic with a whip (because of course he is) and has some fabulous healing moves that have saved me more than once in a tough fight. The group would be nothing without Sylvando—and he absolutely knows it!

Veronica & Serena serve as our other characters who are bound by destiny. They are Keepers, born to protect aid the Luminary on his quest. As twins, you’d expect them to look the same…but, after an encounter with monsters, Veronica was turned into a child, and is stuck that way. As an offensive mage who hates being treated like a child, she serves as the brash one of the group, quick to anger, much like her fiery spells.

Serena, on the other hand, serves as the yin to Veronica’s yang. She is temperate and always willing to help, if somewhat hapless. The primary healer of the group, she excels in restorative and defensive magic, and has a harp to while away the less hopeful days. As a pair, these two are steadfast, loyal, and…to be honest, aren’t much more interesting than that, unless Veronica is being goaded into an argument.

Until the later game, anyway. I won’t spoil that here, but will just say I underestimated both their spell casting abilities and their importance in the story. 

You know how the hero is the Chosen One, the Luminary and the absolute saviour of the world? Well, he also happens to be a Prince of Dundrasil. Had the fates been kinder, he might have been brought up in a huge castle, with loving royal family around to raise and guide him.

Rab, a fierce, playful and wise old man (with a banging Scottish accent) is ready to heal, attack with offensive magic, and guide our hero around the expansive world. And, as we find out after defeating him and his sexy companion in a battle competition in Octagonia (see: Jade), he is also grandfather to our hero, and thus a Lord of Dundrasil himself. He may seem old, but not only does he have royal blood, but he is a capable spell-caster and martial artist, making it apparent that he is one of the most capable companions in the game. If I were to ask anyone for advice, knowing that he would neither mince his words nor omit anything important, I would go to Rab.

You know what any game directed at kids needs? That’s right, a sexy warrior princess that you can stick in a bunny costume for most of the game. Even if you choose not to do that, her combat outfit doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Thankfully, Jade isn’t just eye-candy. She has far more going for her. She’s a Princess of Heliodor, the hero’s childhood companion who lost him as a baby. She just wants to find him, her younger brother figure (sadly), and help him fulfil his destiny. Plus, as a battle and spear fighter, she has some of the strongest moves in the game—albeit mostly from her sexy, love-based moves such as ‘Hip Thrust’ and ‘Sexy Beam’, only comparable with Sylvando’s equally as sexy and flamboyant ‘Lashings of Love’ and ‘That’s Amore’ moves. She’s a badass bitch who takes no crap from lovestruck men or monsters.

Though, she has her very own Princess Leia moment, where she is captured by a horrific, giant, evil and ugly monster and made to wear a sexy outfit (hey, there’s that bunny girl outfit again). It is heavily implied she has been under his mind control, and that he’s been having his ‘wicked way’ with her. Good thing she comes out of it with sexy vampire powers, isn’t it?

HEAVY SPOILERS NOW. I warn you, don’t go any further if you care about that kind of thing.

Our final companion is one who doesn’t show up until late game. Sir Henrik, a Knight of Heliodor, is the hero we all need. He defends his ruler to the last (which, spoiler alert, nearly ended up being his fatal flaw), is willing to sacrifice himself for the good of all, and defends the weak: a true knight, with chivalry, bravery, and total care for all others. It’s a shame he hated the hero for the first half of the game, really.

But do I care about that? No, I care that his greatsword abilities make him an absolute tank. On a one-on-one fight, I needed him front and centre of every battle just for his incredible damage output. Against multiple enemies, he is less useful, but with his supplementary healing and defence skills, he isn’t just an attacker, but a true defender of the people to the last.  

Calm it with the Combat

My god, this game has a lot of battles. While that’s expected for a turn-based JRPG, and there were a lot, unlike others such as Pokémon, you can choose which battles to avoid as the figures traverse the overworld. This is useful in such a slow-burning game, and also helps you find the monsters you want—again, a definite improvement on the way Pokémon works, as it saves you having to fight hundreds of creatures you don’t want to find the ones with the best EXP.

A notable exception to this is when you have to find and defeat a rare monster for a quest, which don’t traverse the overworld. This means you have to fight potentially hundreds of more common monsters to find the one you want, which can be frustrating, especially as it is all done on chance and not on how many you have defeated. While you can increase your chances with various items or equipment, it still adds a frustrating amount of time to an already long game.

Another vague annoyance is how much harder the game gets post-game. I actually did not have an issue with this, as a friend told me how to farm the elusive and high-EXP metal slimes using a particular Hero-Erik-Jade Pep Power and so I could use this ability throughout post-game. However, for those not in the know, the potentially grinding at the end of the game may put some people off finishing an already saturated game.

What I loved about the combat was how it kept getting harder and harder. I never worried about over-levelling (as said above, I was more worried about being under levelled) and that meant I could do what I do best: do all side-quests before the end of the main story. In other JRPGs, the completionist in me has always made me want to do all side-quests, but this has meant the final boss has been underwhelming and easier than it should be.

The variation of powers and attacks was also really interesting. You can spec into different forms of fighting for each character—I went for Swords with the hero, Whips for Sylvando, Boomerangs with Erik (after using Daggers for most of the game), Heavy Wands for Rab and Veronica, Wands for Serena, Spears for Jade, and Greatswords for Henrik—and this makes all the combinations of them in the party very cool. I normally just controlled the hero during the fights and let the others fight wisely, unless there was a specific quest to fulfil or a particularly hard boss. Not only did this speed up combat, but it also helped me to learn which of their moves were the most effective against which monsters automatically and quickly, which was easier than picking moves and trying them out myself. It’s easy, with enough gold, to respec if you like, and this I’m sure could make the game fee different every time if you wanted to play with different specs.

Pep powers were also a lot of fun. While it was sometimes annoying waiting for some or all of the characters to pep up and therefore use these moves that combine different characters’ moves for ‘Ultimate’ attacks, they provided fun cutscenes and made the battles more interesting. Plus, they reminded me a lot of DBZ moves, especially the epic ones with the hero and Rab!

Top tip: you can swap out characters and they will keep their pepped-up status. I wish I’d known about that a lot earlier!

The monster designs are great, as per usual Akira Toriyama style. There are lots of different kinds, from slimes, to mechs, to really weird ones like the kissy lip monster and the Bongo Drongos. The bosses are also amazing. Just all the character designs, from human to monster, to anything else. I see a lot of DBZ in all of them, which is fantastic.

You know what? Here’s some pictures. You’re welcome.

Mini Games & Challenges: Hey, I actually want to do these!

I often have issues with mini games, as sometimes they are so different from the main game that I just don’t want to spend time playing them. Gwent in another of my favourite games, The Witcher 3 is a good example: I never really learnt the rules, which I’m sure would have helped, but it was so detached from the main game I just didn’t care. Plus, it had no effect on the story or game at large, so what was the point?

In DQ11, sure, you don’t need to rack up 500,000 casino tokens in poker or the slots to buy better gear. You don’t have to finish first in all five Gallopolis horse races. Forging items isn’t totally needed to advance the game. It’s not necessary to win all five rounds of the Wheel of Harma in a certain number of moves (though this is much more like the rest of the game than the other mini games). But I did all of these, and it was great fun. It’s what’s helped make the game such a time suck (especially the casino) but I never felt like they were a chore.

Apart from the crossbow bullseyes. I did none of them as apparently I only noticed about three out of however many there are. They can suck my Sword of Light.  

 What’s a good JRPG without me questioning the point of life after it’s over?

JRPGs do it best—fight me.

The story of DQ11 is immersive, interesting, intricate and, at times, incredibly heart-breaking. Following the hero and his friends for over 100 hours really means you get to dive into their adventure, and more so, their relationships. You truly believe why they have chosen to follow each other into danger, to protect each other as well as the world. Sure, he’s the Luminary, so Serena & Veronica, the Luminary’s guides, at least have a reason to follow him to the end. The fact he’s the Luminary at may mean the characters have more faith in him than they would anyone else without lightning powers. But, even without that, you get the impression that they trust him for his innocent and yet resolute determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost.

The NPCs in the game also provide variety and are a lot of fun. There’s a lovesick mermaid, a brilliantly incompetent prince, two brothers in Laguna di Gondolia who are trying to sell the same things to you for different prices, and Silvando’s Smile Brigade, to name just a few. Their backstories, personalities and current stories all bring life to a game already chock full of it, and makes even simple fetch quests interesting and well worth doing, if you value a good story like I do. These little touches explain why the game clocks in at well over 100+ hours, but at the same time gives true justification to why that is. It’s the difference between a boring game, and one I loved to turn on and just relax of an evening. I might not have done all that much in three hours, but I still enjoyed every minute.

With everything considered, I will remember DQ11 fondly as one of my favourite JRPGs to date. The storyline, characters, combat and score are all fantastic and makes me wish I played the older games. Thank you, Dragon Quest, for giving me 112 hours of fun. 

[buffyversefanfiction]

Tristan Tormented

Fanfiction Series to “Buffy the vampire Slayer” series, “Angel” series and the Buffyverse continuation in the “Dark Horse Comics” series. Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

Volume 3 - Able Angel

Vampire Tristan Summers had a mission on his mind and he was not going to stop until he achieved said mission, the mission being destroying anyone who could remotely bring out the man inside his monster and although the list was not long it was still a hefty task after all he had almost died several times before when trying to take out some of them and did die with one of them.

Angel was never meant to be a father mostly due to his undead status so when he did father his first child Connor he found himself feeling an unconditional love like no other only to lose him to another world and although over the years they had made major progress their bond was still nowhere near as great as Angel hoped it would be and now he was facing all that pain again with Tristan Summers only this time it was worse because sooner or later Angel’s second son would have to be stopped and his biggest fear had become the idea that he might just have to be the one that does the stopping. “You have to forgive me someday Angel,” Faith told him as she walked through the front doors of the abandoned looking Hyperion Hotel, chasing after her vampire friend, pleading with him to forgive her for past mistakes. “This is not just some mistake Faith; you kept my son from me and then you stopped me from killing him so now he is out there killing people and that is on you!” Angel argued. “He was killing people long before he was a vamp and if we give up on him now, he will be long after.” Faith replied, eager to make Angel side with her on her quest to save Tristan’s soul. “He was coming off less evil not a lot less evil but still less and I just know if we get Willow to ram a soul down his throat or however that goes then you may finally get to have some kind of relationship with him.” “Do not think I do not want to be a father to him, of course I do but you and Buffy made it impossible and now the next time I see him I am going to have to kill him!” Angel admitted to the redeemed slayer. “He has no soul and even when he did, he was evil.” “We both took walks on the dark side and we had each other’s backs why can’t we have his too?” Faith asked him, reminding them both of their dark pasts. “It’s not as black and white as that.” Angel reluctantly replied, once again facing the fact he may have to kill his own child. “Then let us dive straight into the grey and save your son.” Faith responded, making her determination clear to Angel. “On this particularly rare occasion I happen to agree with Faith.” Giles announced as he walked through the front doors shocking both Angel and Faith by his presence. “After my failed attempt to rehabilitate him I have been working hard to find a way to make things right.” “Failed attempt?” Faith scoffed at the former watcher, “That is like me saying oops my stake slipped when I killed a guy, somehow I do not think that response would have went down that well, nor is yours.” “It would have been more believable than trying to pin the crime on Buffy.” Giles replied to the troubled slayer. “Look I am here to make things right!” “Trust me when I say your nowhere near the top of the list of people who need to make things right for me, even if you did almost kill my son, Dru actually did so she’s ahead of you in that department.” Angel explained to Giles, making it clear no ill will was held between the two of them. “Thank you, Angel,” Giles responded to the vampire with a soul before walking over to him and Faith. “I’ve been referring with some old friends about the impossibility of Tristan Summers as well as doing some digging on my own and the information I have found was…well rather astonishing really! The boy really is one of a kind.” “Something tells me this is going to be one big watcher talk when I would rather just be out there doing what needs done.” Faith chimed in, making it clear she wanted Giles to get his point across quickly. “I stumbled upon a prophecy of a human who was born of both vampire and slayer origins yet somehow remained human and as I continued to read the text in which is was written it only grew more fascinating. The prophecy spoke of the human becoming a slayer by his own means, then later a vampire by another’s hands and yes I know that already sums up what has happened but it was the next part that really blew my mind, so to speak.” Giles informed them both. “You see it said the boy would change before becoming a slayer in his own right but he would not change after becoming a vampire, it spoke of how all that was remained unlike any vampire before him and how it would lead to the beginning of the demonic slayer…a being possible of both great things and terrible evils but a being needed in an upcoming apocalypse nonetheless.” Angel and Faith remained stood in shock by Giles’ revelation that Tristan was still the man he was before a monster and while that idea did not surprise Faith entirely due to her strong belief in the rogue slayer turned vampire it did surprise her hearing it was possible for Tristan to do some good, as Angel remained shocked by every word, knowing Giles would not lie to them but not wanting to admit there was hope for his son until he saw it for himself, having lost his sons one too many times before.

After throwing his latest victim’s body to the ground, having drained the woman completely of her blood, a full vamp face Tristan wiped the blood off his face before return to his human form which was when he realized the alleyway he had found himself was very familiar to him being too hungry and focused on the hunt before too realise where he was going but now he was fed and his victim was dead he realized his hunt had taken him home. Memories of his beloved Dante began charging through his mind as he felt all the pain of losing him once more while continuing to walk down the alleyway until Tristan stopped outside of the boarded up building he and Dante once called their home, the deadly demonic dive bar where he had last experienced any kind of happiness with his now fully dusted vampire lover. Tristan could swear just by standing outside the building itself that he could smell Dante but he knew that was his mind playing tricks on him, wanting to undo what could not be undone but still feeling Dante once more was what he needed in that moment as he began tearing down the planks of wood boarding up the door to his home before kicking the door open and walking in. “Did he know about Drusilla?” He wondered about Dante as he stood in the middle of the barely standing demonic dive bar, once again taking in the ruins of what used to be. “Did he help kill my parents? No, he would not do that to me…he loved me…but he did not love me then.” He had never doubted Dante’s love for him for one second and felt bad for doubting it now he was gone but with Drusilla having lied to him all these years he couldn’t help but wonder if any of his time spent with Dante was true or was he playing a role just like his sire Drusilla. “Did anybody ever really love me?” He asked himself, fearing the answer was no. “Could anybody really love a monster like me?” Tristan quickly realized he was not alone to his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming from the front door and like a knee jerk reaction he quickly picked up a piece of broken wood from the ground ready to slay whoever dared come into his home only to be left completely stunned when none other than Spike walked in. “I guess you never got far from those woods, but I guess why would you when this place was your home.” Spike said as he held his hands up to show he had no weapons and had no plans to fight Tristan, “I only want to talk to you kid.” “Why would I want to talk to my mother’s pet?” Tristan asked his fellow vampire, while clutching the wooden stake in his hand tighter. “You see I do not feel like talking but I am always down for killing.” “I want to help you and I know somewhere in there you want to be helped.” Spike told him. “You really are desperate to get Buffy to look at you again.” Tristan laughed cruelly, amused by Spike’s words. “Hate to break it to you but me bad you good we do not talk we just fight to the death.” “The hatred you had for Drusilla remained after turning didn’t it? And that hatred comes from a place of love, the love you had for your adoptive parents, the love I am going to guess you still have for them?” Spike questioned the slayer turned vampire, already knowing he was right. “Wow, of all the pep talkers I did not take you for one but then again you are Buffy’s pet after all.” Tristan replied, eager to antagonize Spike. “I barely had feelings when I was alive and I sure as hell do not have any now.” “Would you stop with the bloody pet talk?” Spike groaned as he walked closer to Tristan. “If you stop calling me kid,” Tristan responded before throwing a right punch across Spike’s face. “because this kid has gone pro now!” Spike wasted no time in replying to Tristan’s violence with some more violence as he punched the former slayer across the face leading to Tristan headbutting Spike in the face before kicking him to the ground. “I guess the slayer strength stuck around after death.” Spike replied as he quickly rose back on his feet, before his face turned into full vamp mode and he charged towards Tristan ready for a brutal fight with the son of the woman he loved.

Meanwhile back in Los Angeles, Angel sat behind his desk within his office at the Hyperion Hotel reading from the books that Giles, fact checking what Giles had already informed of about his son Tristan, realizing that his son did somehow still have his soul despite becoming undead making Tristan more like his father than Angel ever expected him to be. He must have re-read the text within those ancient and mystical books a hundred times not believing the truth to what he was reading as he struggled to come to terms with not only his sons seemingly indestructible soul but the importance he would have in an upcoming apocalypse, not even wanting to think about the likelihood of Tristan being on the team of evil rather than good. “You know you can keep reading it forever and it is not going to change, trust me I read it about a million times before I even began to consider it being true.” Giles told Angel as he walked into the vampire’s office. “Then went the excruciating research, the endless pleading of former colleagues to decipher it differently or at the very least some definition of whether he was fighting for good or evil.” “I get the demonic part of being a slayer I mean I feel the demon inside of me every day but I do not understand how it is even possible for him to still have a soul.” Angel answered as he closed the books and stood up to stand face to face with Giles. “You are a vampire with a soul the very definition of impossible clearly your son takes after you in that sense. I cannot begin to try and explain how he is possible let alone how his soul is still intact, but I do believe this means there’s something inside of your son that is salvageable.” Giles attempted to explain, revealing his newfound optimism towards helping Tristan find redemption. “Why not go straight to Buffy?” Angel wondered, “I am glad you came to me with this but why not her?” “I am not exactly on speaking terms with Buffy or Willow for a matter of fact after almost killing your child, besides I truly believe if it comes past the point of redemption that you will do what you have to do…so would Buffy of course but I would rather spare her from that pain.” Giles admitted to the dark-haired vampire. “I guess this means it is time for a father son reunion.” Angel declared, terrified to how this intervention for his second child would end, hoping beyond hope it would not end in him having to kill his son. “Count me in!” Faith chimed in as she walked into the room, making it clear she was eavesdropping the entire time and she was more than eager to take part in another round of team twisted. Giles had convinced Angel that his claims were real and even convinced him to take part in his redemption rescue mission but one person who never needed any convincing was Faith who had been backing Tristan from the beginning despite his endless evil deeds. A part of Faith connected with Tristan or at least her former self anyway, a part of her that was still in there deep down but had been controlled for a long time now and she believed she could help the slayer turned vampire into controlling his dark side too. Faith Lehane was never the saving souls type until she found her own saved and although she did not make a case of going out on a limb for most if any people she was determined to get Tristan Summers on the right side, partly because of seeing herself in him, partly to do something good for Buffy to make up for all the bad and to make up for straining her relationship with Angel. The funny thing about the path to redemption is the person seeking it for themselves tend to pick up a lot of others along the way, believing deep down that if they can help as many people as possible down that path then they would ultimately be helping themselves too.

“Yeah funny thing about Tristan…let me just say I have him secured already!” Spike said down the phone to Faith while standing in Tristan’s former demonic bar, bloody and bruised from his fight with the demonic slayer which he had eventually grown the upper hand in as a passed out Tristan lay on the floor beneath Spike’s feet.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Splatter

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John, Jeff, Lucille

And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief!  Two prompts for this one: “Little Virgil & Gordon” from @weirdburketeer and “Virgil trying to teach a brother how to art” from @melmac78

Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved.

Nine year old Virgil eyed the paper in front of him critically.  It was almost done, almost perfect.  Just one more dab of paint… there.  His hand retreated and he nodded, satisfied, before movement caught his eye and reflexes honed by necessity caught questing, paint-covered, fingers as his menace of a younger brother reached out to deface his newly completed art.

“Gordon!” he complained at the five year old, who grinned back at him mischievously.  “What are you doing?”

“Painting!” he said gleefully, holding up two hands covered completely in a rainbow of colours.  With some despair, Virgil could see that damage had already been done – unsupervised, Gordon had managed quite an impressive array of handprints along the furniture and newly wallpapered walls.

Why was their demon brother unsupervised?

“Scott!” he hollered up at the ceiling.

“Scott’s busy!” Gordon chirped, smearing his paint-smothered hands on the table and narrowly missing Virgil’s completed artwork.  It was still too wet to move, and Virgil’s own fingers were paint-smeared and needed a wash before he touched it again anyway, therefore it was – somewhat – simpler to instead relocate the slippery creature he was apparently related to.

“Why is Scott busy?” he asked, hoping said brother would appear and take the five year old away before any more paint ended up where it shouldn’t.

“Homework!” Gordon grinned, flailing his hands around.  Globs of paint flew through the air, one landing squarely on Virgil’s nose.  He swiped it away irritably, only for Gordon to point and laugh.

He still had paint on his fingers.  And now on his face.

“SCOTT!” he yelled, as Gordon giggled insistently.  “JOHN!”

“What?” Scott’s voice finally floated down to him, sounding distracted.  John, predictably, didn’t answer.  His nose was probably buried in a book, rendering him deaf to the world. It wouldn’t be unusual.

“Gordon’s being a pain!” he complained.  With Mom and Dad taking Alan for a check-up, Scott had been left temporarily in charge and, in Virgil’s opinion, was doing a thoroughly poor job by shutting himself up in his room and letting Gordon run wild.

“I’m doing homework!” Scott shouted back.  “You play with him!”

A door shut upstairs, signalling the end of the conversation.  Virgil fumed silently at him for a moment, before realising that Gordon wasn’t giggling any more.  He looked around frantically, and found him raising a single, colourful, finger immediately above his finished artwork.

“No!” he snapped, leaping at his brother and forcefully dragging him away.  Brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.

“I want to paint!” he declared, emphasising his demand with a sticky finger jabbing at Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s paint!”

Virgil looked at his already paint-covered brother, glared up at the ceiling where his elder brothers had both willingly abandoned him to this fate, and then grinned.

If Scott wanted him to play with Gordon, he would play with Gordon.  After all, Scott was in charge and he was just doing as he was told.

“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his paints and taking them over to the kitchen floor, along with some vaguely paint-free paper.  “I’ll show you how to finger paint.”  Gordon’s ever-present devil’s grin was out in full force.

“I already know how to finger paint!” he declared, splatting his hand down in the vague vicinity of the paper, leaving another colourful mess on the floor.  “See!”

“No,” Virgil corrected him, leading him to the sink and washing the worst of the paint off of his hands as best he could.  Gordon wriggled, not unhappy with the water, but disappointed to see swirls of colour running down the drain.  “First, we need clean hands.”  He washed his own as well, using his bigger size to keep Gordon pinned in place until his hands were also acceptable.  “And dry ones, otherwise the paint will get too runny.”

The towel was accepted with poor grace, Gordon more interested in slapping wet hands on Virgil’s clothes instead.  Virgil persevered, however, and soon had Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, in front of the paper and paint, with clean, dry hands.  He sat down next to him, keeping most of the paint out of reach.

Gordon lunged for the paint in reach, dabbing his fingers in with precision until each finger (and thumb) had a different colour on, before he lurched for the paper and slammed them all down at the same time.  Virgil winced.

“That’s how babies finger paint,” he protested, looking at the hand prints rapidly forming as Gordon mixed the colours on the paper with abandon.  “I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

Gordon looked at the mess on the paper – a purple-brown concoction, for the most part – and then at his fingers.

“Clean your hands again,” Virgil told him, picking up another bit of paper.  Gordon wiped his hands vigorously on his clothes – freshly applied, the paint transferred readily to the fabric.  “Properly, Gordon.  Or no more painting.”  The blond menace pouted, but dutifully scrambled onto the stool to reach the sink again.

As the water gushed out of the taps, Virgil placed his clean paper over the mess Gordon had made, pressing down on it carefully and holding it there until he was satisfied the paint had stained it before pulling it away.

The water was still running.

“Gordon,” he said, and with a giggle the boy finally shut off the tap and hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel again before skidding back to his side on his knees.  “Look.”  He carefully dipped a single finger in the green, before dabbing towards the top of the area.  “Leaves!” Gordon’s eyes brightened, and he jabbed a finger in the blue before making swirls at the bottom of the paper.

“Water!” he said.  “Look.”  A wonky circle took up a hand’s-width of the paper, before a single skinny finger trailed a blue line from it all the way to the edge of the paper, and onto the floor. “A lake with a river!”

Virgil grinned.

“You do the water, I’ll do the plants,” he said, and Gordon nodded enthusiastically.  “Look, if you use darker and lighter colours, it looks better.”  Finding a dark green and a yellow paint, he dabbed at his green splotches.  Gordon watched with wide eyes before smearing a finger with the darker blue and slapping it in the middle of his lake.

“It’s deeper in the middle!” he declared.  “Where the fish swim.”

“And brighter at the top, where it sees the sun,” Virgil added, using his yellow to give little highlights to the top of each leaf.  Gordon frowned, looking at the paint colours, before taking a little bit of blue and adding some white to mix it together for a pale blue.  Virgil added a little more, for better contrast, even though his interference was met with blue paint on his shirt as Gordon pouted, and once the blond was satisfied he added the lighter colour to one edge of his lake.

Then he smeared yellow on his finger and added in small blobs with spikes to both the lake and the river.

“Lots of fish!” he said proudly, before using the orange unbidden to give the spikey blobs darker patches, and then the white for whiter patches “on top!”

Virgil laughed and let him be as he focused on his own leaves, adding in a bright red caterpillar to offset all the greens and blues.  Gordon also stole some red for more fish, and green for a frog, and by the time a car could be heard in the driveway, their woodland lake was full of creatures.

At the sound of the car, Gordon froze and looked around, as did Virgil.

The kitchen was a mess, large parts of the floor covered in paint.  It was going to take a lot to clean, and Mom and Dad would not be happy. A lithe, paint-covered hand, found the plastic palette of paint and with a Cheshire cat grin, Gordon flipped it face down.

“Whoops,” he said, gleefully.  Virgil stared at him in horror, knowing that was one more thing that would upset their parents, before remembering why he’d ended up painting with Gordon, of all the messy creatures.

He grinned back at Gordon and gestured up the stairs.  Brown eyes met brown eyes, and a matching look of mischief came over his own face.

“Not our fault,” he whispered.  A devious trouble maker already, it didn’t take Gordon long to catch on.

“Scott!” he giggled quietly, and as voices sounded outside the house, Mom and Dad getting out of the car, they crept upstairs and into their bedroom.  Paint-covered hands muffled giggles as they sat on the floor and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“SCOTT CARPENTER TRACY!” Dad’s voice boomed out.  “GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”  There was a sudden scuffling from the room next door, sounding suspiciously like a chair falling over, before the door opened.

“What is it, Dad?” Scott called.

“I said GET DOWN HERE!” Dad repeated, and Virgil and Gordon had to hold their breath not to be overheard as their eldest brother tramped down the stairs loudly – before the noise stopped suddenly.

“What-” Scott started, only to be cut off.

“Your mother and I were gone two hours, Scott.  You promised you didn’t need the neighbours to watch you, so why is the house covered in paint?”

“Virgil was the one painting!” Scott protested.  “It’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Not just Virgil, judging by the amount of blue and yellow on the kitchen floor,” Mom interjected.  “You were supposed to keep an eye on your brothers, Scott, not hide from them in your room.”

“I was doing my homework!” Scott protested.

“The same homework you told me you didn’t have so you could definitely watch your brothers?” Mom replied, and there was silence.  Virgil and Gordon stared at each other, wide-eyed, then jumped as their bedroom door opened.

John slipped in, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, then settled on the floor by the window with his book.

“Get paint on me or the book and I will kill you,” he said firmly.  “I am not dealing with Storm Scott.”

Virgil nodded, although wondered why John would come here to escape, then turned his attention back to the altercation downstairs.

“Now, you are going to go upstairs, change into your painting clothes, and then clean this up,” Dad was saying firmly.

“But I didn’t do it!” Scott protested, loudly and furiously.

“Your responsible brothers will be helping you, don’t worry,” Mom told him.

“But why do I have to clean up their mess?” Scott demanded.

“Because this happened while you were supposed to be supervising them,” Dad said.  “If you want us to leave you without bringing in the neighbours, you need to start taking responsibility.  Now get moving – I can’t start dinner until this kitchen is spotless.”

Heavy footsteps stomped their way up the stairs, and Virgil and Gordon both flinched as their bedroom door slammed open, irate brother glowering at them through puffy red eyes.

Instantly, some of Virgil’s glee at payback for Scott abandoning him to Gordon faded.  Even Gordon seemed a little subdued.

“Sorry, Scott,” Virgil said before his brother could start shouting at them.  “I didn’t think they’d be that mad at you.”

“Have you seen the state you left it in?” Scott demanded furiously.  “I trusted you to keep Gordon busy just while I finished my homework, and then you go and do this?  Mom and Dad will never trust me again!”  The rest of Virgil’s satisfaction fled, and he looked down at his bedroom floor – and the paint that marred it.

“Sorry, Scott,” Gordon echoed, standing and giving his brother a hug, puppy dog eyes in full force. Scott glared down at him, and Gordon started to sniffle, eyes welling with water.

“Well we’re not getting dinner until it’s cleaned up,” John sighed, slotting a bookmark into his book and laying it on the windowsill.  “Yell later, clean now.  I’ll help.” So much for not dealing with Storm Scott, Virgil thought.

Scott snapped from wavering at Gordon’s tears, and shooting death glares at Virgil, to fix John with a surprised look.

“You are my favourite brother,” he said, whole-heartedly.  “Why did Mom and Dad ever give me more?”

That stung, a little, but then Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair, shook his head at Virgil with a small smile, and headed out the door with the blond boy still attached.

Hoping that meant Scott wasn’t too mad, after all, Virgil followed, finding a smile of his own as Scott realised Gordon was still covered in paint… which meant his own clothes were now covered in paint.

[palettepainter]

(IMPORTANT UPDATES) Look back at 2019

Big changes for 2020! Hey there everyone! 2019 has come and gone, another year passed and a new chance for me to try and improve myself when the new year starts! As far as I know me and my family don’t have plans to celebrate New Years other then of course spending time together, but I want to post this now just so that it’s out of the way it’s posted and I won’t have to worry about. If I can be honest, 2019 towards the last few months of the year has been a real punch in the face..multiple punches. I’ve broken off connections with people who treated me wrongly in the past, had random breakdowns at school (don’t worry they weren’t seriously bad), had trouble with siblings - it’s been overall, a very up and down year for me, but sadly towards the end and in the running up to Christmas, it was mostly down. But hey, 2020 means the start of a new year and a new chance to grow stronger as a person and an artist!..Seriously though 2020, please be kind to me- As you can probably from what’s in the title, there are going to be a few big changes to my characters and stories going into 2020. I’ve been thinking about this stuff a lot ever since mid August, it’s been something I’ve mentioned to one or two people, but ultimately I had to make the choice. And now with 2019 gone and done and 2020 being the opportunity to start fresh, I think it’s a good time to make these announcements. I understand that this may upset a few of you and yes it is going to make things a bit confusing for my NGAU, but this is my choice and I’m confident that making this choice will lead to me being much more happier with what I make. 🔸I will not be continuing my Zoophobia: Next Generation book series To anyone new who doesn’t know what I mean, Zoophobia: Next Generation was a book series I started back in December 2018, which included my own NG’s and one or two OC’s from the fandoms Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel. Since the first book the series has since gained a lot of attention on Wattpad, and believe me when I say that I am truly grateful for how much positive attention the series got! It was my first time ever writing something on my own and it felt really special to know so many of you liked what I was doing! But as the series went on, I slowly began to loose my drive to continue writing. This is something I’ve admitted to close friends, but now that I’m older and I’m more aware of errors in writing and certain ways in which writing can be written to be better, I realise that the series isn’t up to my current standards. The story itself isn’t one that I’m proud of, and as my first book series, I feel like I was biting off more then I could chew when I first started writing this series. Ive realised that the story line I had in mind would be too hard to work into both Zoophobia and Hazbin Hotel without me having to make very big changes to either of those fandoms current stories and/or certain characters personalities, and though yes it is my own AU so if I wanted I could change the characters to fit better with my story, but honestly, I don’t want to change the characters. The characters from Zoophobia and HH I absolutely adore and there isn’t much I want changed about them, so I don’t want to alter the characters drastically to the point where they become an entirely different character. The main drive of the story with the main characters didn’t pick up till around the second book, and when I first started writing, the story line wasn’t even finished, I was just going with the flow and linking one thing to the other, hoping people would like it just as much as I did at the time. And lastly, this is probably the biggest reason why I’m no longer going to be continuing the series, but the first couple of chapters of the first book where too heavily inspired by another book series: I don’t want to continue to create something, when I feel as if it’s been too heavily based around someone else’s work. I want to create my own stuff and I feel as though the first book just isn’t that, it’s not my own work, and that’s leaded to me viewing the first book as my least favourite. This means that from now going forward, any events that took place in the book series is now no longer cannon. Some headcannons will be changed and altered due to this, for one Eve’s Headcannon will be changing as she will now most likely be alive in my NGAU now, so the stories I had planned for her such and the stories I already posted are no longer cannon either: I will say also that this also counts for my Eve X Hatchet NG Diego, he will remain cannon and will most likely be alive also. As for the characters that where involved in the books such as Lucy, Maggot and Bumbuss, I’ll figure out what to do with them. I defiantly want to keep Lucy as she was the very first OC I ever made for the Zoophobia fandom that wasn’t a NG, but I’m unsure on what to do with Maggot and Bumbuss. As much as I now don’t enjoy the series, it was fun to write while it lasted, and I cannot stress enough how grateful I am too everyone who ever read, liked, or commented on the series! But from now on, I won’t be returning to the series. I held off on announcing this and the reason it took me so long to decide this was because I didn’t want to leave you guys without a conclusion to the story, the series was only one book away from completion and I didn’t want to cut off the series so close to it being finished. But again, the book series isn’t something I enjoy anymore, so I hope all of you can understand and will hopefully look forward to the further projects I have planned 🔸New books to come Though my main book series will now be ending, I have a lot of ideas for new book series. Since the second and third book I had been having ideas for stories that could take place after the series, and the reason I kept doing the series for as long as I did was because I really wanted to start work on the stories that would take place after the series was finished. One of my goals for the new year is to try and push out more stories and book series for you guys, I feel like I’ve defiantly been lacking in the story department, mostly because I couldn’t find any ideas for illustrations to go with the story, and because I always felt too tired to ever finish any stories or illustrations. None of these story ideas yet have fully scripted out story lines, so far they’re just ideas and until I can get a script done for them, I won’t be starting work on them. I want these books to be as great and they can be, and not only do I want to make something that I can be proud of, but something that you guys will enjoy as much as I do. These ideas are in no particular order, and I haven’t decided if I’ll defiantly be doing all of these just yet, but here are some ideas I’ve had for books/book series for the future: -A book with my NG Box explaining her past before she came to live with Ribbon -A book with my OC Willem and how he discovers another hybrid like himself -Nidra’s story as she grows up to accept a new family, while letting a beloved friend go to persue their own life -Junior reapers: a story/series of stories involving Lotus, Charcoal, Parfait and Rae as they go on a quest to become junior reapers Maybe a MHA + Dragonous story *Dragonous is a Villainous dragon AU created by shabiest (Instagram), I will need to get permission from them if I want to write a book with this AU* Recently I got into My Hero Academia, and you can all blame that on my cousin When I first saw the series I kinda rolled my eyes at it, I’ve never really been a big anime fan the style never grabbed me when I was younger: and all I can say is that I should defiantly have given the series a try sooner MHA is a series I’ve come too really enjoy and love, I love the characters the story the dialogue, everything about this show! I’ve said this before but what I love about the show is how it’s great at showing us a large range of characters without straying too far from the main plot, and how this show makes me feel: there have been times where this show has had me emotionally frustrated, sad and happy, and if a show or a movie can make me feel a powerful emotion (angry sad or other), then I’m down for it. I’ve since made a few OC’s for the fandom, and I’ve been thinking about making a book about it. It’s not scripted out yet, and some of my ideas play into some events in season 4 - but if you guys enjoy MHA and you enjoy my OC’s, please let me know your thoughts! And Dragonous, a Villanious AU I’ve come to adore! I’ve always been a big fan of dragons, they where my favourite mythical creature growing up! (And still are to this day), with the creators permission I’d like to create a book with the few OC’s I’ve made, this one may not happen because again I need permission, but tell me your thoughts! Merch Again, something I’ve mentioned before, and something I’ve been really wanting to do! Me and my dad have made a shirt design with one of my OC’s, so far it’s only black and white (we’ve decided to go simple black and white since it’s my first time making merch), and hopefully if all goes well we can start to make more colourful merch However this all depends on you guys: I may be opening up commissions in the future, though I can’t say when, but this will depend on you: I have a PayPal and a KoFi if you guys wish to support me and my work (no pressure though!), every little bit counts and it would mean so much to me if you guys would consider supporting me and my work, even if it’s something as small as a pound! 🔸Collabs/art trades/design trades/RP’s There’s nothing really big to say about these things, but I have decided that from now on that I will only do these kinds of things with close friends.

Finally, I want to say a big BIG thank you to everyone who has stuck around on this crazy train ride to support me. This year as I said at the beginning, has not been the best for me towards the end, and I am so grateful to all the support you guys gave me. I know that I'm not very good with replying to comments/messages, and I'm so sorry if I never got round to replying to your message or comment, but I do read the comments, I do see the wonderful things you guys say, and it's absolutely delightful to see the nice things you guys say!  I want to give a big big BIG thank you to these wonderful people who have been there for me, whether it was to geek out over a show to if they where there for me when I needed support: @hazbinextgeneration​   - You've been an amazing pal right from the beginning, you where one of the very first people I met when I first got into the Zoophobia and HH fandom and you've been an absolute gem! You've been there for me when I was down and you've listened through out all of my nerd outs about characters and shows, and to have someone listen to me meant so much! You comment on nearly every piece of my work and you're always so kind and giving! Not only to me but to so many others! You've made me a lot and fanart and I'm sorry I don't nearly do enough for you in return, going into 2020, I want to change that!  @cosmic-artzz​   - If you hadn't been there to listen to me and help me out, I honestly don't know what kind of situation I would be in now. You helped me cut off ties with people I honestly wasn't happy talking with, and despite being dragged into my drama over and over again, you where still there to listen to both sides of the argument and give advice on how I could make things better. You've always been a delight to talk to and I'm so happy we had the chance to become friends! I'm so sorry you get dragged into my troubles as much as you did dude! Going into 2020, I promise you I'll be more confident in putting my foot down when I feel as though I'm not being treated fairly! And lastly, I want to thank all of you! For sticking with me on this crazy journey! Here's to 2020 and hoping its a wonderful year!!

[tigerlover16-uk-2]

Pokemon Secret Journeys Snippet: “I have a sister now?”

So, here’s something different. I mentioned a few times before I published a fanfiction recently, it’s on FF.net and AO3. And I thought just for fun, and hopefully to get a bit more traffic slowing, I might post a few scenes from it here on Tumblr for people to read.

Here’s the general summary of the story:

An interdimensional being called The Beyonder has taken over the World of Pokemon, altering it to suit his whims. So naturally, it's up to Ash Ketchum to do something about that. Sent back in time on a quest to redo his journey in this radically altered world, Ash and friends are in for their greatest, most dangerous adventure of all.

.

Below is the first scene of the first proper chapter after the prologue, Ash Ketchum’s first taste of the rebooted version of the Pokemon World he’s found himself in. Also featuring the character of Molly Hale, from Pokemon 3.

If anyone’s interested, feel free to give it a read.

*Ring! Ring! Ring!*

Smash!

"Gah!" Ash leapt up so suddenly he ended up falling out of bed, face-planting on the floor just a foot away from his oversized soft Snorlax plush. With a pained groan Ash pushed himself up, glancing in the direction of the shattered pokeball-clock.

Panic quickly overtook him.

"Ah crud, not again!" Ash yelled, hastily looking up at the wall clock above his TV "Wait… seven O'Clock?"

Ash blinked a few times before letting out a huge sigh of relief "Well, okay then" He laughed, scratching the back of his head impishly.

In the original timeline, Ash had somehow managed to sleep through his alarm, only finally waking up after smashing his alarm clock after subconsciously throwing it in his sleep. Ash arrived at Professor Oak's lab pretty late as a result, after all the other three new trainers leaving Pallet Town that day had already gotten their starter Pokemon and took off on their journeys. Well except Gary, he stuck around just long enough to be really smug to Ash about the whole thing and how he got the best Pokemon.

By some stroke of luck, Ash had managed to avoid a repeat of that embarrassing incident this time around.

And yet, his clock still wound up against the wall.

'I guess some things are just fate' Ash mused to himself, observing the broken scrap metal littering the other side of his room.

Wasting no time, Ash pushed himself up onto his feet, stumbling slightly as it suddenly occurred to him he was still very tired. He vaguely remembered the now shattered alarm clock reading 3.45am and realised he'd probably stayed up most of the night planning out his next few moves after he left for Oak's Lab.

What those plans were completely alluded Ash at the moment, but he figured they'd probably come back to him when he was a bit more awake.

After scooping up the scattered remains of the pokeball clock and dumping them into a nearby bin, Ash stumbled over to his wardrobe and pulled open the doors, being greeted by a mirror on the back of one of them. The dishevelled teenager narrowed his eyes at the short tuft of hair on his reflection's chin.

Glancing once more at the wall behind the desk with his TV, Ash double checked the date on the calendar. Still the same date on which he'd first set out on his Journey.

Ash sighed 'Guess there's no point hoping it was all just a weird dream, huh?' Ash stroked the hairs on his chin, frowning curiously 'Am I supposed to start shaving then, or are you supposed to wait until it gets longer and it starts growing under your nose too?'

A loud rumble suddenly filled his ears and made Ash clutch his stomach in discomfort. Shaking his head, Ash grabbed a pair of clothes-the same kind he'd worn for most of his travels in Kanto through Johto-and made his way out of the room and to the bathroom 'I'll worry about that later. Right now I'm staaaarviiiing'

After a quick shower and feeling more awake, Ash got dressed and made his way to the stairs.

"Mime-Mime" a familiar voice greeted.

"Oh, hey Mimey" Ash responded as he passed his mother's Mr Mime on the landing before making for the stairs. About halfway down he suddenly stopped, his face going blank as Ash stood silently for a moment. Then with a sharp "Gah!" Ash leapt up, losing his footing on the step as he landed and tumbling the rest of the way down the stairs, his head becoming acquainted with an umbrella stand as he landed.

"Oww" Ash groaned, rubbing the fresh bruise on his forehead.

"Mr Mime?"

Ash glanced up the stairs and saw Mr Mime looking down at him with concern. As Ash began to get up, Mimey rushed down the stairs and offered him a hand, which Ash graciously accepted.

"Thanks" Ash said, momentarily forgetting the reason why he'd just tumbled down the stairs. It quickly came back to him after standing up "Wait-Mr Mime?! What are you doing here?"

Ash's first thought was to wonder why Mimey would be at his house instead of the Cerise Laboratory where he'd been staying with Ash. Then he remembered that he was sent back in time, so why would Mimey be at the Lab now instead of at home with his mother. And then Ash realised-hey, wait. He and his mother hadn't met Mimey until after he'd won all 8 of his Kanto badges, so what was he doing here at all?

"Mr Mime?" Mimey looked equally as confused as Ash did right now. He placed a hand over the bruise on Ash's head, leaned in close and began examining Ash's face with some concern. Ash just stared back at him awkwardly before eventually swatting the hand away and leaning away from the Psychic-type.

"I'm fine, I'm fine" Ash chuckled nervously, which just made Mimey look at him oddly. Ash scratched his head "I just-um… I was a bit dizzy, that's all. I, uh… didn't get much sleep-but I'm fine! Everything's good, Mimey, thanks. Ha ha"

Mimey eyed Ash suspiciously for a long moment, which made the teen a bit nervous. But eventually the mime's face lit up with a satisfied smile.

"Mime-mime" Mimey said while giving Ash a thumbs up. Ash mentally sighed and waved at the Mr Mime as he began climbing back up the stairs, picking up a stack of freshly-folded towels when he got to the top.

'Okay, so mom and I already have Mimey in this timeline' Ash thought to himself, scratching his chin 'Well, I guess that's not the most surprising thing that could happen. But now I wonder if mom's a blonde or something now?"

A quick trip to the kitchen proved that wasn't the case. At most his mother's hair was just slightly longer than it had been the last he'd seen of her.

"Oh, hey honey, glad you got up on time. What was that big thump just now?" Delia asked while washing the dishes.

"Thump?" Ash frowned "… Oh. Um, I fell down the stairs"

Delia put down the plate she was washing and looked at Ash with some concern, noticing the bruise on his head.

"Oh my gosh, Ash! Are you alright?" Delia squealed, rushing over to her son who quickly threw up his hands in a 'Stop' motion.

"It's fine mom, I'm alright" Ash insisted "You know me, I've been hurt way worse than this"

Delia stared at Ash contemplatively for a long moment before her expression relaxed and she sighed.

"Yeah, that's true" She said with some amusement "Honestly, I'd hoped you'd be over that clumsy streak by the time you set off on a journey, but I guess that's just who you are. Oh, by the way, breakfast is on the table for you sweetie"

With a relieved sigh Ash took his seat at the table and examined the contents of the plate his mother had laid out. Toast, bacon, fried eggs, and a croquette sandwich. Simple breakfast, but Ash was happy to dig in.

As he made a start on the toast, Ash looked over at his mother, watching her finish washing the remaining dishes. After the shock of everything he'd been through the previous evening and being told the entire universe had been torn apart, it was a welcome relief to see his mother again, just carrying on with her life as normal.

'Now how the heck am I supposed to explain all of that to her?' Ash asked himself, scratching his head. He then noticed the black mark on the back of his hand that read "20" and Arceus's advice on how to "Remind" people repeated in his head.

Ash noticed his mother turn her head to look at him again, and he quickly hid his right hand under the table. He silently cursed himself for not putting on his old gloves with the rest of his clothes, he'd better make sure neither she or Mimey noticed the mark just yet.

"Those are some pretty big bags under your eyes. I did tell you you'd regret it if you didn't get enough sleep" Delia lectured. Ash scratched the bottom of his nose with his left index finger.

"Hehe. I tried, but you know, I just had so much on my mind I couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard I tried" Ash replied. It was the truth of course, but just not for the reasons Delia assumed.

"Oh, Ash… well, I guess I can't blame you. This IS a pretty exciting day for any young man. Just promise me you'll try and sleep better the next couple of days. You may be 16 now, but you're still a growing boy" Delia said, finishing up with the dishes and going to make herself a cup of tea.

"I'll… try. I promise" Ash replied. Delia shot him a warm smile at that, and Ash suddenly felt the most at ease he'd been since before the world ended. His mother could be strict, embarrassing and overbearing from time to time. But she was still a wonderful, loving person with a big heart, and she always knew how to cheer him up.

He was so grateful she wasn't lost forever.

As Ash finished his toast and started on the bacon and eggs, a loud yawn caught his attention. He turned to the door that led to the living room to see a little brown-haired girl in blue pyjamas and a bow in her hair wander into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and looking very sleepy. Ash could only blink at her, thinking she looked very familiar.

"Molly, dear, what's got you up so early" Asked Delia with mild concern.

Ash blinked harder. Molly? Taking a closer look at the girl as her eyes drifted open, it suddenly clicked why he recognised her. She was Molly Hale, the daughter of a family friend that he'd met in Johto once on his journeys.

"I wa-" Molly yawned again, shaking her head and suddenly looking a little more awake "I wanted to be awake to see Ash before he left"

"He doesn't have to be at Oak's lab until ten, sweetie. You didn't have to get up straight away" Delia said, setting aside her unfinished cup of tea and pulling out a chair for Molly to sit on. The little one smiled and bowed graciously to her before she sat.

'Ten?' Ash pondered. He could have sworn he had to be at Oak's lab a lot sooner than that originally? Or had he really overslept that badly? Why hadn't his mother woken him up, then?

"But I won't get to see Ash for a really, really long time after today. So I wanted to make sure" Molly insisted. Delia giggled and ruffled Molly's hair.

"Aww, sweetie" Delia cooed.

Ash was just really confused by all this.

Molly noticed Ash staring at her and flashed him a sweet smile "Good morning Ash. Ready to be a Pokemon Master?"

"I… sure, I always am" Ash replied, glancing sideways at his mother "What's Molly doing here?"

Ash mentally winced slightly at the look of shock and concern on Molly's face when he said that. Delia looked at her son like he'd asked why water was wet "She's been here a whole week! Her dad's on a research trip with Professor Rowan, remember?"

"Professor Row-" Ash began, but then suddenly it hit him how what he'd just said was probably pretty dumb from his mother's perspective and changed direction "Oh-oh, right, research trip. I um, forgot? Ha ha"

Now Delia and Molly were both looking at him with a bit of concern. Delia heaved a frustrated sigh.

"This is why I don't want you staying up all night, mister. Lack of sleep really messes with your head" Delia mused.

"Is Ash going to be alright?" Molly asked tenderly.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr sleepy head will be fine once he's woken up some more" Delia said with a laugh. Molly giggled, though still looking worried.

Ash continued staring at Molly for a moment. In the old timeline, Ash apparently knew Molly when she was a few years younger than when they'd met again in Johto, but could barely remember much about her or her family before they'd moved away.

Evidently they hadn't moved this time around, and Ash figured from the looks of things he and his mother were a lot closer to Molly because of it.

But there was another bit of information that really caught his interest. Apparently Molly's father was doing research with Professor Rowan? He was the Pokemon Professor in Sinnoh, who Ash had met a bunch of times. It was at his Summer Camp he'd first met Angie, in fact. And Ash also vaguely recalled an encounter with a certain type of Pokemon in Sinnoh on another occasion…

"Are they looking for the Unown?" Ash asked.

"I don't think Spencer's been researching anything else for the last 10 years" Delia chuckled. Ash suddenly felt a bit uneasy, remembering the circumstances in which he'd originally met with Molly in Johto. And then another thought suddenly popped into his mind.

"Is Molly's mom with them?"

Ash regretted the question as soon as he blurted it out, and the looks on Delia and Molly's faces when he said it only reinforced that. Delia gaped at him in disbelief, then swiftly turned to face Molly, who was suddenly staring silently at her feet.

Ash gulped.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I… don't know why I asked that" Was all Ash could say. Delia shot him another disapproving look before kneeling down and putting a hand on Molly's shoulder, whispering something soothing into her ear. Ash looked away in shame.

He suddenly remembered quite clearly that Molly's mother in the original timeline had disappeared quite some time before he got to Johto, apparently it had something to do with the Unown kidnapping her in a similar manner they later did Molly's father. Or, he assumed that's what happened, since apparently she'd been found shortly after Spencer Hale was returned after the whole Unown crisis at Greenfield was taken care of.

Losing her mother had filled Molly with a lot of grief and left her feeling very lonely in the old timeline. And clearly, the same held true for this one.

Not wanting to stick around in case he said anything else stupid, Ash hurriedly finished the rest of his bacon and eggs and scooped up the Croquette sandwich to take with him to his room.

"I, um... I think I need to take a quick nap. I'm not thinking straight" Ash said hastily "Could-could you wake me if I'm not up in time to get to the lab, mom?"

"Sure, honey. Sure" Delia said, still looking rather cross with him. Molly glanced up at Ash, but quickly looked away. Ash felt like his insides had briefly frozen seeing the hurt look on her face, and he wasted no time getting out of the kitchen, bumping into Mimey on his way out who had just entered the room and was watching everyone else with some confusion.

Ash rushed up the stairs, scarfing down his sandwich as he did so. Pushing open the door to his room, Ash shut the door behind him, made straight for his bed and plopped down on it, heaving an aggravated sigh.

"Well, that was awkward" Ash grumbled to himself. He flipped over onto his back and stared contemplatively at the ceiling. He knew he was going to have to apologize to Molly for that little slip-up, but he wasn't quite sure what to say.

'Sorry I brought up your missing mom when you're still torn up about it. Don't worry, she's just trapped in another dimension by floating alphabet soup, and she'll totally come back once you dream up an Entei to blast them back to their dimension and make the world stop turning into crystal'

...

'Yeah, no, definitely not' Ash slapped his forehead and closed his eyes, thinking carefully about how to sound comforting without giving too much away…

...

...

...

He and Molly were decorating a Christmas tree together. Ash was standing on a chair and holding Molly up, as the younger girl struggled to reach out and place a plastic Clefable on top of the tree. Molly and Ash both cheered when she finally got the Clefable to stick.

...

Ash's eyes shot open as he bolted upright. For a moment he had no reaction other than to stare blankly into the distance. Then his senses eventually returned to him and a bemused frown spread across his face.

"What the… what was-GAH!" Ash's eyes snapped shut again as his mind suddenly went fuzzy.

...

It was Molly's fourth birthday party. Ash, his mother, Professor Oak and both of Molly's parents were there. Molly was struggling to blow out the candles on a cake shaped like a Teddiursa's head, so when her eyes were shut during her 5th attempt Ash blew them out for her and pretended she had done it herself. Everyone cheered for Molly, who was laughing and looking very proud of herself.

Molly was four and a half. She and Ash were at the park. Molly had just fallen off the swings and scraped her knee. She cried for five minutes straight while Ash bandaged her leg and told her over and over in a gentle voice that everything would be okay, that she was a big girl and didn't need to cry. When he was done putting on the bandage Ash gave Molly a hug, which finally calmed her down enough to make the crying stop. Ash picked Molly up and took her to find her father. Molly thanked Ash. She said he was the bestest.

Molly was two years old. Mr Mime was making her laugh by floating spoons, forks and plates around and doing a weird tap dance. Ash thought it was kinda silly, but Molly was loving it. Ash then decided to impress her by juggling apples. He was doing pretty well with three, but when he tried juggling five he hit Mimey with one by mistake and made him drop the plates and cutlery he was floating. The plates smashed against the floor. Surprisingly, this made Molly laugh harder than anything else Ash or Mimey had done, but Ash wasn't sharing her amusement. He was panicking over how much his mother would yell at him over the smashed plates.

Molly was crying her eyes out. A few hours ago, Spencer had come home a nervous wreck and informed Delia and Ash that Molly's mother had gone missing. Molly was five years old. Ash was now cradling the distraught little girl in his arms, gently telling her everything would be okay and that they'd find her mom before long. He wasn't sure himself, he didn't understand what had happened very well either, but he had to try to ease her pain somehow. Molly hugged him tight, begging her momma to come back.

It was three weeks ago. Spencer was talking to Delia in her living room. Ash was looking at Molly, who was sulking in the corner of the room. Spencer was telling Delia about how he was going to be moving to Greenfield, his childhood home where his now deceased parents used to live. He and Molly would go there a few weeks after a trip to Sinnoh he had to go on with Professor Rowan to study some ruins in Solaceon Town. Ash noticed Molly was shaking, and suddenly she shot up and yelled at her father that she didn't want to leave and that she hated him for taking her away from home.

A few minutes later, Molly had locked herself in the wardrobe in Ash's room. Delia and Spencer were waiting outside of Ash's room as Ash tried to calm Molly down. It took half an hour, but Ash eventually managed to get her to come out. She cried when she saw her father and apologised for saying she hated him, saying she didn't mean it and she just wanted to stay home and be with everyone. Ash sighed as he watched Spencer hugging his daughter, apologising for needing to move and promising they'd come back eventually.

...

In the present, Ash gasped for breath. His eyes flickered open and he began looking around the room, getting a grip on his current surroundings. He leaned back against his pillow, his mind racing to process that sudden burst of information. Something Arceus had said the previous evening repeated clearly in his head.

"There's another thing you should know. The longer the two of you remain in this new timeline and your bodies and minds begin to acclimate to it, the more you should experience memories of the lives you should have lead in this new reality. Flashbacks, most likely, though a few of them might be subconscious recollections you won't even notice were not related to your past lives"

It all made sense now. Those were his new memories. He was recalling some of the times he and Molly had spent together in this new version of his life. How Ash had known her since she was a baby. How the Hale's were close family friends who hadn't yet moved away.

How Molly had been like a sister to Ash.

Ash rubbed his head, his eyes glazed over as he became lost in those thoughts. Consciously, he knew he had never really experienced any of those moments… and yet, for reasons he couldn't understand… he FELT like he'd lived them. Those memories FELT as real and personal to him as any from the life he actually had lived up to now.

Ash wasn't sure if he should be concerned about that or not. All he really knew right now was that he felt even more guilty for making Molly upset.

He glanced at the clock. 8.15am. What? How long had he been staring at the ceiling?

Slapping his head, Ash got up and opened the window, breathing in the breeze of fresh air and leaning against the windowsill. He looked out at the town of Pallet.

Everything seemed exactly the way he remembered it. Same buildings. Same sky. Same Professor Oak's ranch in the distance. He even noticed the Dodrio that usually woke everyone in the neighbourhood up waddling around. The place outside Ash's window seemed just like the same old world he'd grown up in.

But it wasn't. It was so very different.

'Boy, I'll be glad when this is all over and things go back to normal'

Taking another deep breath, Ash cast another glance out at Professor Oak's lab in the distance. Pikachu was in that building right now, waiting for Ash to pick him and start their journey together. Ash's lip quivered. He wanted to smile, but he was feeling uneasy at the prospect. So much else seemed different about this new world already: Would Pikachu even be the same Pokemon he remembered anymore?

That particular worry vanished when he glanced down at the mark on the back of his hand. He let out a quick sigh of relief. Maybe Pikachu would be a little different… but Ash could make it so he still remembered all the good times they'd had together in their old life.

They'd still be the best of friends. That much couldn't change.

Closing his window, Ash walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out the pair of gloves he'd forgotten to bring to the bathroom with him earlier. Checking his bag to make sure he really did have all the supplies he needed, he also pulled out the piece of paper with Angie's phone number and the jewel Arceus had given him.

Ash stared at the white gem. Supposedly it would glow when the time came for Arceus to contact him for an update on how he was getting along. Ash really wished it would glow now, he had so many questions he wanted to ask about this new life, and he was suddenly feeling a hundred times more resentful to the Beyonder than he already was for plunging him into this mess.

Shaking that thought from his head, Ash put the jewel and the paper with Angie's number back in his bag. He would have to call her once he got to Viridian. Hopefully she was adjusting to this whole situation better than he was so far.

Or rather, would be. With the time Zone she was probably asleep right now.

An hour passed as Ash sat on his bed, replaying the events that had happened in the Hall of Origins and everything that had been said in his head. When the clock reached 9.30, Ash got up, took a deep breath and clenched his fist with a fiery resolve. He picked up his backpack and flung it over his shoulders, then grabbed the cap sitting on the table next to his TV, putting it on as he left the room.

And then he saw that Molly was standing by the door, looking down at the ground and dressed in the same clothes Ash had seen her wear in their previous life. Ash blinked at the little girl as she looked up at him with an unreadable expression. A moment of silence passed before a sad frown suddenly spread across Molly's face as she turned away from Ash.

"Do you… would you be happier if I wasn't around, Ash?"

Ash's eyebrows rose. Where had that come from?

"What? Why would you think that, Molly?" Ash asked with genuine concern. Molly shuffled her feet, twirling a strand of her hair with her finger.

"Some… some girls in the park…" Molly's voice was shaky, and Ash thought she was trying not to cry "I mean… um… I was just wondering… you're going away for a really long time. On your journey. And… I was just wondering… I'll see you again, right?"

A sad smile appeared on Ash's face as he suddenly realised what Molly must be feeling. Her mother had disappeared just barely a year ago. She and her father were going to be moving away for a while… and Ash was setting out on a journey, so there was no guarantee he'd be here when or if she eventually moved back.

Acting on newfound instincts, Ash kneeled down and put a hand on Molly's shoulder, smiling softly at the girl as she turned to face him.

"I'm not going to disappear Molly. And I promise I'll keep in touch and come visit you when I can. You'll see me again" Ash said. Molly's eyes began to water. Ash ruffled her hair and smiled wider "After all… you're my little sister"

Inwardly Ash couldn't believe those words were leaving his lips. But what surprised him even more was how, deep down… he felt like he really meant it.

Molly let out a sob and turned away from Ash again. Ash gave her a moment to compose herself, and when she'd finally stopped sobbing he asked "Why would you think I wouldn't want you around?"

A moment of silence.

"The other day" Molly began, visibly nervous "I was playing in the park. Some older girls were talking with each other. The oldest one was complaining about her mom… said she was really bossy to her. I said… I said she shouldn't say mean things, and her mom was just trying to help her learn and be nicer to people. And then…"

Molly gripped the sides of her skirt, looking like she wanted to cry again. Ash put his hand back on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, and after taking a deep breath Molly continued.

"She said… she said… she said the reason Momma went away… was because I-" Tears were most certainly welling up in Molly's eyes now, and Ash was bracing himself for what she was about to say "Because I was annoying and no one would want to have me as their daughter"

Ash's eyes widened as Molly let out an anguished wail and began crying for real this time. At first he felt too awkward to respond, but after getting a grip on himself he gave Molly a tender hug and let her cry into his shoulder.

Ash recalled his initial reaction to seeing Molly in the kitchen, and how hurt Molly had seemed when he asked why she was around. And it really hit him that she must have thought that maybe that cruel girl had been right. Maybe she was annoying. Maybe Ash didn't want her around, maybe he would be glad to be away from her. And then, what would that say about her mother and why she went away?

A fresh pan of guilt swept over Ash, and he hugged Molly harder.

What felt like a whole minute passed as Molly poured her heart out. When her sobs began to quiet down, Ash pulled Molly forward to look at her face to face again and gave her a firm look.

"Your mother loved you, Molly. I know that for sure, she didn't run away and leave you. I don't care what some jerk told you, you're not annoying. Don't ever let anyone make you think what happened was your fault, because it's not"

Molly sniffled "But-but then… why did she-"

"It isn't your fault! People just go missing sometimes, but we'll find her eventually. I guarantee you that" Ash said confidently. However different this timeline had to be, if the events behind Mrs Hale's disappearance were the same, then it was guaranteed she'd be found again just like last time. Right? "But more important than that, she loved you. And she would never choose to leave you. You're a good daughter, Molly"

More sniffles. Ash ruffled Molly hair again and gave her another smile.

"And just because I have to leave for a while, that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you forever either. Sometimes friends and family move away, or go different paths in life" Ash recalled the faces of many of his friends and Pokemon in quick succession as he said that "… But that doesn't mean we forget each other, or won't meet again. I promise you that"

More tears, and Molly wrapped Ash in another hug, though this time the tears faded pretty quickly.

"I'm sorry, Ash"

Ash looked down at Molly oddly "What for?" Molly pulled back a bit to talk to his face.

"For thinking you didn't care. I know you do. I just…" Molly hesitated "… I'm really going to miss seeing you all the time. I want everything to go back the way it was"

"I know the feeling" Ash said, thinking of the world the way it was before the Beyonder changed it. He frowned, knowing what he was about to say would probably be hypocritical coming from him, but Ash still felt it was what Molly needed to hear "… But that's just life. Change happens, and you just have to get used to it. Doesn't mean every change will be bad. You'll miss me for a while, but just try and think how happy you'll be when we see each other again. And how great you'll feel when your mom is found"

Molly looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled "That… that does sound nice"

"See, no need to be all doom and gloom" Ash chuckled. Molly wiped the remaining tears from her eyes and separated from Ash, looking a lot calmer now "So, feel better now?"

Molly nodded "Yeah… I'll be okay. You're a good brother, Ash"

Ash scratched his cheek, feeling pretty proud at that "Helps to have a great little sister"

Two hours ago, Ash barely knew Molly. She was just one of many friends that he only knew for a short time and then never saw again. But now, she felt like one of the most important people in his life. A part of Ash was really worried about that feeling. The world he was living in right now was a farce, something that had to be fixed and put back to the way it was. Surely it wasn't going to do him any good in the long run to start getting attached to this version of reality and the life he had here, right?

And yet… for the moment, seeing Molly's gracious smile and the sense of brotherly pride it inspired within him… Ash couldn't find it in him to worry too much about that just now.

"Ahem"

Ash and Molly turned to see Delia looking at them from the top of the stairs, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I really hate to interrupt this moment. But it's nine fourty five, Ash. You should probably be leaving soon if you want to get your first Pokemon" Said Delia. Ash suddenly turned frantic.

"I forgot!" Ash gasped. He turned to Molly quickly "Good talk, gotta go, I'll see you at the ranch later, bye!"

And with that Ash took off down the stairs, much to the bemusement of Delia.

"It only takes ten-" Delia was cut off by a loud thump. She sighed "Also, don't run down the stairs. Keep hitting your head like that, and you won't be in any condition to travel for another week"

"Right… sorry" Ash said, getting up and rubbing the fresh bruise on his forehead. His head was probably going to be purple all day if he kept falling like that.

A moment to let his senses come back later, Ash took off out the door, waving goodbye to Delia, Molly and Mimey who now stood in the frame to see him off as he ran down the path that would lead him to Oak's Laboratory.

"Is Ash going to be okay, miss Ketchum?" Asked Molly. Delia giggled and patted the girl on the head.

"Oh, don't worry. Our Ash can seem like a goof at times, but he's brave and resourceful and determined. He'll be fine"

"Mime, mime" Mimey chimed in agreement. Delia smiled, looking out at her son's shrinking figure in the distance. Her expression softened a little.

She had long prepared herself for this day, but she had to admit to herself she still was a bit worried for Ash's wellbeing. It was a big world out there, one that could be dangerous for inexperienced trainers. She was sure he could handle it, she'd raised him the best she could to be prepared for setting out on his own, but… well, she was a mother. Who could expect her to not have reservations?

Didn't help that she was also going to miss having him around the house almost as much as Molly would. She sighed "Although, I guess I should check to make sure he packed clean underwear before he leaves the ranch"

[theangrypokemaniac]

@nyarthsis

If Team Rocket 'always had a heart for unpopular Pokémon', that's an admission their Alola catches aren't particular loveable creatures, so I'm not thinking anything too controversial.

You're saying they take pity on the animals no one wants, as in it's normal for me not to find them adorable.

Some Pokémon, such as Lucario, become fan favourites without the advertisement of a regular role the anime. With Wobbuffet, Bewear, Stufful, Mareanie and Mimikyu, do people like them for themselves, or because of their association with Team Rocket?

I think its the latter. I can't imagine there would be such interest in them were they to be owned by a Twerp or appear as a one-off. Really then, it's not what or who they are, it's to whom they belong that matters.

Alola has really devalued catching. Rather than be true to the source material, so battering a Pokémon into submission, as Ash did with Bulbasaur, Primeape, Muk, and many others, now you have to ask their permission!

Bewear didn't even get that. She hung around for no reason, and her 'friend' Stufful was belatedly tacked on. I see why those two were left behind, as Team Rocket had no right to take them elsewhere.

In terms of welfare, Mimikyu and Mareanie are better off staying with them, free and safe, rather than locked in the insalubrious depths of H.Q., but then it never bothered the writers sending previous Pokémon into an uncertain future, so what difference does it make now?

It can only be that, like their predecessors, there is no intention to ever bring them back, but unlike the rest, the fans can't even be allowed the vain hope of a return, not with this rather awkward disposal.

It's feasible that Jessie and James could call their base and request old monsters to join them, but it's difficult to imagine they'd fly across the world to Alola, wander through the woods, pick 'em up and go all the way back again. Why make parting so final and irreversible?

It does imply that Game Freak don't like them, so why should I?

I keep noticing this fickle attitude. A new era starts, we're expected to fall instantaneously in love with every element, beg for more and yet more. Then, once the next region arrives, this adoration asked of us is meant to evaporate and immediately transfer to the next batch.

Well why start to like them, if eventually the makers don't care, to the extent you wouldn't even know previous Pokémon had ever been alive?

Have you heard one mention of Seviper, Yanmega, Dustox, Cacnea, Carnivine, and Mime Junior since they left?

Why were they happy to chuck Wobbuffet after Sinnoh, yet fetched for Kalos?

How could Team Rocket live without it for an entire generation but suddenly it's indispensable again? What do you imagine the rest of their Pokémon felt about that?

Have Jessie and James wondered allowed how Arbok, Weezing, Lickitung and Victreebel are doing?

What of the last two generations?

What is this nonsense where every character is so detached from the past?

Supposing I was to force myself to appreciate them: since they've gone, never to return, I'd be dissatisfied with the show, thus no better off than I am now.

My feelings don't run on a switch. I can't find myself besotted one minute then dump the object of affection without a second thought, just because Nintendo want it from me.

Even if I had a more positive opinion of the current interpretation, there's no benefit to becoming involved when it's all so fleeting.

Mareanie is ugly, with three teeth. I think he's a sea anenome, so ought to be more attractive, but it's covered in nipples instead!

It looks like a bonsai tree growing breasts, reminiscent of the hideous content lurking within an Hieronymous Bosch painting.

The idea that all Mimikyu copy Pikachu, the most famous Pokémon, when in their world it's nothing special, is too stupid for me to accept. How could that be coincidence?

It's referencing reality, acknowledging the real world's view of Pikachu as the star, so if it's breaking the fourth wall, it invites disbelief.

Wobbuffet does sod all. It's a complete dead weight and has no attacks. Yet it's the one to survive generation after generation. Where's the logic in that?

I suspect his popularity rests on being there so long he's considered part of the furniture, the sole catch in which you can invest an emotional connection whilst fairly certain he'll remain around.

By now it ought to have developed some semblance of a personality, but it's as faceless as ever. Other Pokémon that have been and gone had a bit more about them, but Wobba's so bland no one can summon the energy to write him out.

If he went, what would you miss? Breaking out of his ball and hissing 'WAAAAAHBUHFEH'? Is that so integral?

I have several objections:

What is it meant to be?

Why does its tail have eyes?

Why is that never mentioned?

Is it a sort of quadruped, or has it only one foot with four toes, arranged like the bottom of a medical walking stick?

A lot of my reactions to Pokémon are influenced by encountering them in the games. With Wobbuffet, I remember first coming across it in the cave near Blackthorn City, and just as you're winning the fight, it pulls out Destiny Bond and suddenly you're both down.

When you finally get one, it's tricky to train. You have no choice but to guess whether the opposition will launch a physical or special move, and mostly you get it wrong. He never learns anything else and doesn't evolve, so it's that forever.

Persevering with Magikarp is worthwhile, but what's to be gained from taking any time out to fight with Wobbuffet?

The anime eliminates this problem. You're aware of the nature of the approaching onslaught because you can see it coming, and the opponent said it aloud.

In this context Wobbuffet should be the most powerful Pokémon in the universe. Come on, it can deflect every attack!

Is it? No. It has a successful defence about once a generation, and still loses the battle. I can't say if it's worse to be utterly pointless, or to not fulfil one's potential.

I resent it muscling in on the motto, as if it's considers itself of equal rank to Meowth. No it's not!

When I was young, there was a tendency for magazines to refer to Team Rocket as a duo. Meowth was judged to be in the same position as Pikachu: a main character yes, and valuable enough to be accorded the privilege of liberty, but still very much owned by people.

You would see references to Jessie and James as his Trainers, though how they assumed this worked went unexplained. Even if shared, one had to have to caught him, thus be his proper owner.

Later on this developed into them being three equal members, and the term 'TRio' emerged, but now, although perhaps not officially recognised, there's an attitude of treating them as a quartet.

It's just wrong! Wobbuffet's not been around since day one. He didn't join Team Rocket voluntarily because he had nowhere else to go. It was a choice made for him by his original Trainer, so out of his hands, or rather his flippers.

If he was an independent Pokémon who just tagged along one day, that would be different, but it belongs to Jessie. Promoting one of hers means James is lesser, and no longer equal.

In each generation Team Rocket catch at least one local Pokémon, but as Wobbuffet's there, it ends up with Jessie having more on her side than James, and I dislike the imbalance. Plus the one he does get is violent.

It can't be solved by giving him another new one, as then he's captured two in the region, and she has only one, so again it's skewed.

Whilst Wobbuffet does count in numbers, he's not on the level of the rest, who fight regularly. He's both there and not simultaneously.

I'm still irked the way Lickitung was ejected to make room.

It was the best Pokémon they ever had! It took out Pikachu, Vulpix and Bulbasaur with one move! It would've won those Princess Dolls for Jessie if the writers hadn't changed the rules so that Lick only affects those of sound mind!

It was as if they realised their mistake too late, and so Lickitung was featured less and less to avoid it dominating a fight, then hurriedly traded away for something reliably feeble.

The following analogy you may not understand, but I think it fits rather aptly:

There's a game called Final Fantasy VIII. One of the side quests involves you racing through a castle under a time limit. If successful, you are rewarded with Odin as a Guardian Force, which is a deity that will provide a defence.

Unlike others, he is out of your control, but every so often, as you enter battle, he turns up and annihilates your opponents. It's very welcome.

Unfortunately this game was programmed by bunyips, who clearly didn't want the last section of the game to be accidently easier for you. Oh no. If you're progressing, it ain't gonna be through luck, or turning the console on and off until he arises.

Therefore, towards the close, you come up against ex-friend Seifer. Odin is fixed to rush to your aid, but when he does, bloody Seifer slices him in half, horse and all!

He killed Odin, the ancient King of the North! The Lord of Valhallah! The Father of the Vikings!

It's not normal fighting death, it's irreversible. He's gone for good.

After this Gilgamesh introduces himself as a replacement. He too will randomly appear and set about the enemy.

The problem is that whilst Odin destroyed monsters unfailingly, with Gilgamesh it's a rarity.

He uses four swords, and which you get is also a lottery.

One is the same as Odin's, two deal average damage, but not death, and the worst one depletes 1 HP, so it might as well not have bothered.

Not only does it arrive but a fraction of the time, but it's in a fraction of those times that it's of any assistance, which is something of a comedown.

Lickitung is Odin: didn't see it often, but it tore the place apart!

Wobbuffet is Gilgamesh: once in a blue moon it provides rescue, but it's on a lot lower percentage than it's predecessor.

It's difficult not to be disappointed.

[thewriterlyowl]

Thoughts on ToG

 OK, so @nickjgoodsell asked me why I don’t like this series anymore, and I promised I would write a post because how I feel about it is pretty complicated. I used to wholeheartedly love this series - I read Sarah’s blog religiously and even met her a couple of times (I think, I don’t remember, but it was at least once). However, some time after I read QoS, I stopped liking these books, for a multitude of reasons:

So basically, I thought that ToG was just OK. I liked Celaena well enough even though I didn’t think much of her assassin skills, but I liked the mystery parts. Nehemia and Dorian were my favourites, but I though Chaol was kind of dull, but I didn’t like Celaena with Dorian because it kind of felt like she was stringing him along and looked down on him throughout the first book and the second.

I thought CoM was way, way better - at first, which I’ll get into - because I thought the writing and plot was better, and the world was opening up. But I hated the way Chaol and Celaena treated Dorian, and I was devastated that Nehemia died because 1) Badass, magical, female character of colour that tricked all the other people into thinking she was an idiot while secretly spying on them and she’s the one who died? 2) Dorian/Nehemia would have been far superior to those other two. Imagine if they had killed King Haviliard and then just went around restoring magic and looking fine af.

But, whatever, I was intrigued enough to read the next too, and I loved HoF.  Before I read that I read TAB, which I thought was a brilliant way to explore Celaena’s backstory. When I read QoS, I was still excited about it - or so I thought. When EoS came out, I read the first couple of pages and was inexplicably bored. Whatever. I thought maybe it was exam stress preventing me from concentrating. But then over the next few months it kept happening, until suddenly ToD was coming out and I still hadn’t finished it. Then KoA came out and I still hadn’t read it, so I decided to reread QoS again so that I could sail smoothly back into it. So I did. And then I realised that even though I thought I’d enjoyed QoS, rereading it made me realise that something in that book killed all my desire to read the next one. Which I will explain when I outline my reasons in detail:

1) Story

OK so remember when you read Prisoner of Azkaban, and Sirius turns out not to be a fink and the whole mystery surrounding the Potters’ deaths gets turned on its head and you realised that JK Rowling was a genius who put her all into her story? I originally thought that about Sarah, because you could see that she was thinking about her story from the very first story in TAB (obviously because she wrote this story when she was sixteen and then split it). From TAB to HOF, I could clearly see that she was building Celaena/Aelin into an epic hero/Chosen One, who had to go on this quest of discovery and accepting her past mistakes, before picking up allies and defeating the evil whatever it was. Right?

Except, when you get to QoS, it’s like the entire thing gets derailed. Arobynn Hamel, after being built up to me one of Celaena’s most complicated adversaries, is dispatched offscreen by a character that we’re not even introduced to in the main series (Lysandra). Instead of a clear goal and obstacles that derail them, the story is just a series of plans that Celaena/Aelin is keeping us in the dark about, so we don’t know until she’s won. The sense that we’re building to something is kind of lost, because we pick up new objectives every few chapters. What felt like an epic journey sort of tapered off into a bunch of scenes where everyone was up against it...until Celaena revealed that she’d been planning this all along.

Also, the retcons that apparently happened. Elena sent Aelin to Rowan for “happiness”. Maeve tricked Rowan into thinking Lyria being his mate because reasons. Elena and the gods have been manipulating everything because they had a spat a few hundred years ago.

I think that the reveal that Celaena was Aelin was planned from the beginning, but I think QoS was almost the start of a new series - and not just because of the name change. It’s like she just took the story in a completely different direction. I remember in an interview Sarah mentioned that she likes to see where the story takes her as opposed to planning, and even though I still haven’t read past EoS, what I’ve heard, the story ended up in a completely different place than where it was going.

2) Characters

Like I said, there was no one I hated - at first. In fact, by the time HoF was over, I was loving all the characters. I thought Sarah had rendered them so well that I couldn’t wait for all the different personalities to meet and all the banter that would ensue when they all realised they were working at cross purposes.

But then QoS happened.

Celaena, who underwent some incredible character development in HoF, turned into an absolutely horrible character in QoS. She was arrogant, violent, impatient, cruel, and selfish - with none of the redeeming qualities.  She detested her old self even though that self got her where she is today. She treated her so-called allies like idiots or like downright enemies. She threatened to kill everyone who didn’t agree with her.

Rowan, who went from a misanthropic douche to loyal friend to Celaena, spent QoS completely obsessed with her and with growling at every man (sorry, male) who gets within spitting distance of her. I hear he got worse.

Chaol went from a well-meaning if not naive guy who loved his friends to an unrelenting douche who argued with Celaena for reasons, and then apparently disappeared.

I’m not even going to talk about what happened to Dorian and Manon.

And therein lies the reason I didn’t want to read EoS - because QoS had effectively made me hate all the characters. Not only that, but it starts with Celaena hanging out with Rowan, Aedion, Lysandra and Evangeline - four characters who were only introduced the book before, and who spent so long either basking in their own brilliance or being territorial over Celaena that they never got to form meaningful bonds with any of the characters that we did know before then. I couldn’t get through the first chapter because I literally couldn’t give a shit about a bunch of people I just met.

And then there’s the Chaolaena thing. I didn’t particularly care for them one way or another. I thought they were a well-written and well-matched couple, but I personally found Dorian way more interesting. And they were written like they were destined to be together. Even when they were talking about the fact that Celaena might not pick him when she became Aelin, there was none of the vicious antagonism in their relationship when they met again. OK, I expected her to be mad at Chaol for leaving Dorian, but to drag it out so long? And every other argument they had was artificially lengthened to justify them never getting back together so she was free to get with Rowan, where the two people from the last book would have worked it out like adults.

And this takes us right back to the retcon thing. I specifically remember an interview right before QoS came out where I noticed that Sarah was talking about Rowan a lot. So much so that he almost felt like a deuteragonist. When I read the book, I realised it was because she’d decided to torpedo Celaena/Chaol in favour of Rowan/Aelin - which I have no problem with. I just wish it had been done with more grace. Aelin and Rowan went from having a great platonic bond to suddenly wanting to rip each other’s clothes of whenever they saw each other. Aelin went from accepting that Chaol and her were over to wanting to kill him whenever she saw him. Rowan basically wanted to lick her whenever they shared a room, and turned into a giant baby when another guy got near her. The emphasis that their platonic bond was given was traded for them lusting after each other like horny teenagers.

3) Writing

Look, I’m just going to say it - QoS felt like fanfiction. There was just an abundance of similes and metaphors, and her writing got to be so overblown and dramatic that it was eyeroll-inducing to read. But that’s not even the worst of it.

I read ACOTAR when it came out. I liked it, but I really hate Fae/Faeries, so I wasn’t going to continue. Then when I read QoS I realised that all the guys in that and all the guys in ACOTAR are essentially the same character - territorial Fae males who constantly thought about the main female character, sex, or sex with the main female character. Aedion and Rowan were the same character in different colours. And all the girls were the same too - badass but vulnerable and always ready with a snarky comment. The similarities between the two were just too much.

Then there’s the actual structure of the book - like I said, it felt like fanfiction, and like a series of events strung together rather than a book. There wasn’t really any clear structure to speak of, which is why it felt so odd. There was no clear goal at the beginning, so there was no inciting incident, no first plot point etc. It felt like set up for the next book.

And finally, the style. HoF, QoS, and the little chapter of EoS are all completely different. One of the opening chapters has s Fae warrior (I forget which one and also I don’t care) trying to figure out whether a girl with big breasts is a virgin. I think it’s supposed it’s supposed to sound like high fantasy like GRRM, but it just sounds predatory and weird.

There’s actually way more that I now dislike about this series, but I’ve spent too much time on it. I’ll always love the first four (I include TAB) and parts of QoS (”Witchkiller is still the best thing ever), but I’ll never finish it.

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Nine

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the ninth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 9 ~~

In the coming days, I have little time for leisure. I am furthermore unable to decide what preparations are necessary for the arrival of my betrothed. Etiquette dictates that we put forth the best Everdeen has to offer. I do not see the point. The man I am to marry has already accused me of fortune hunting. He expects some disrepair and would likely question the presence of too much luxury or well being. Let him see then what he no doubt believes of me – gentile poverty and desperation drove my actions in the Capitol.

There is also the small matter that I have no desire to impress him. Why should I? This marriage is not a celebration but an unfortunate necessity. And he has seen me covered in mud after all.

My mother is appalled when I override several of her mandates, lessening the preparations to what one might be able to get away with your closest of friends paying a last minute visit — someone who knows every detail of your life and shall not pass judgement if a few things are neglected, so long as they are welcomed with love. In truth, I am inviting Peeta’s judgement. It would give me cause to hate him more.

“We are not welcoming a prince, Mother. Please cease wasting everyone’s time on pointless chores.”

She fumes silently and motions for poor Hannah to continue polishing silver fixtures in the house that no one has noticed before and that I doubt Peeta will notice unless it is to comment on our financial situation like the bastard he is. I almost wish my mother would return to weeping over my father’s bedside if that would give me peace.

When I do find leisure time, I spend it with Madge, Maysilee, and my sister. They are a solace of joy and laughter in the chaos of my thoughts. Every day Madge spends here, she grows more beautiful, freer with her words and laughter. I cannot help but compare my situation to hers. She is resurrected after being freed from the shackles of an unwanted marriage while I am facing my doom in entering one.

Other times, I pore over the letters that Effie and Haymitch have sent from town since I left them. Hers carry a bright enthusiasm as she details all the reactions to the altered announcement, the many visitors she has had and all of the well wishes for a happy marriage for me. She effuses repeatedly at how she so looks forward to my wedding. It rings so bright as to sound false to my eyes as I read. I know she cannot be happy at the idea of my binding myself to a bastard, nor at the turn of events after her own insistence that Sir Robert was clearly besotted with me.

Clearly he was not.

Haymitch’s letters carry a different sort of message entirely. Faced with the certainty of my upcoming vows to Mr. Peeta Mellark, Haymitch has embarked on a quest for knowledge, which I likely should have done rather than departing town in such haste. Haymitch writes of a different sort of courtship, one between a man and a father figure to the girl he wishes to marry. Haymitch writes accounts of Peeta’s conduct in my absence, their many conversations, and peppered in between anecdotes are more personal details that make it clear to me… Haymitch has hired a man to investigate my betrothed and discover his secrets.

I can find nothing to persuade me this match will be a disaster. His finances are sound. No debts, no disturbing addictions, no reports of uncontrolled temper, no mistresses even. My only complaint is that I was required to pay more attention whilst playing chess these past few weeks as your affianced is quite the strategist. No bourbon with a pleasant chess match in the evenings for me when Mr. Mellark sits across the board, unfortunately. I must have my wits about me or suffer pathetic losses. In fact, the only secret he seems to harbor is not much of a secret at all — the truth of his parentage — although I’ve not been able to ascertain the identity of his birth mother, so perhaps there is a secret there, but the basic nature of his parentage is common knowledge. Overall, he is most forthcoming with his life with the Mellark family when asked and my investigations confirm all of what he has told me. I recommend you ask him yourself at the first opportunity.

Katniss, my dear girl, I am endeavoring to say that you could do much worse where husbands are concerned. He is as distraught over the circumstances of your engagement as are you. In support of this, I have received several reports of discord in his father’s home that have led me to believe this engagement has cause a rift of sorts within the family. Be at ease and attempt to make the best of your situation. You set out to gain a fortune to support yourself and your sister. You have done that. Your betrothed is now nearly as wealthy as the rest of his clan, legitimately born or not. There is no need for you to cause more trouble. You and he have more in common that could unite you than you realise.

Tell my sister I shall see her soon, and tell your father he’s the devil to pay for what I’ve endured in his stead, if he ever wakes.

~ Uncle Haymitch.

Haymitch’s words annoy me at first reading, then strangely enough bring me marginal relief on second or third perusal. Perhaps my future is not so bleak as I’d imagined. Yet, it is not enough to prevent the final break in my composure.

A guest room is prepared for Peeta, but I also find myself tripping over servants and my mother in my own room two days before my betrothed is expected. The rook is in complete disarray, my belongings shoved into boxes and crates and set aside to allow room for the work being done.

“What is the meaning of this?” I ask and my mother leads me aside so that the maids may continue without her.

“I dare not move your father from his room in his health. Until other arrangements can be made, you and your husband will have to share your chambers for some time after the wedding. For now while we make the changes to your room, you can sleep with Madge.”

“I cannot share a room with him!” I gape at the bed where I so often felt safe and shall soon feel betrayed, and then at my mother as she scowls at me, opening her mouth to no doubt lecture me. I am saved by a servant with a query for her and flee the room before I am presented with any more reminders of the upheaval in my future.

This one is intensely personal. In all my time of bemoaning my fate and nursing my fury at Peeta for trapping me in this situation, I had not even considered the expectations that now loom over my body.

I escape to the woods. The world seems to shrink around me as I consider the ramifications of my actions and curse my own stubborn naïveté. Madge’s words about not wanting my marriage to be like hers rise up to taunt me.

I’ve no idea what Peeta will expect on our wedding night. Likely he will expect what all grooms assume as their rights. My body, my submission. Here I planned to say the vows and be done with it as soon as he arrived and now, confronted with the likely path of events for that choice, I find myself regretting it. We are still strangers, Peeta and I. Haymitch’s findings aside, I know so little of the man I am expected to spend my life with that I cannot fathom giving myself over to him in such an intimate way.

Except… Peeta himself expressed a wish to wait.

Time. Yes, time is what I need and if he is willing to grant it, I shall take it. At least a little time to better prepare myself.

Resolved, I am able to stand and manage to even hunt a little as well as set a few snares for smaller animals.

*************************

The changes wrought to my room over the next few days do little to assuage my concerns. If anything, they heighten them. New furniture has been added, and several of the furnishings as well as nearly all of the linens have been replaced. The light, airy, welcoming feel of my girlhood chambers has vanished on the fragrant summer breeze that enters through the window and sweeps away any innocence left in my mind. It is now the room of a married woman.

I escape to the woods as I always have, uncaring that I now risk missing entirely the arrival of my betrothed. Let him fumble with the introductions to my family and let them see what a brute and bastard he is, I fume, ignoring Haymitch’s analysis of Peeta’s character. What would my uncle know? He is a man and views Peeta’s character as a man would, not as a woman would.

I linger far too long in the woods, but excuse the lapse in my manners with the success of my hunt. We shall have an excellent dinner as shall the servants. They deserve it for all the hard work they’ve accomplished the past weeks, not only in preparing for our guests but also for their diligent care of my father.

“There’s a brace of rabbits and two ducks in the bag, Horatio. See them cleaned and to the kitchen?”

“Yes Miss.” I peel off my gloves and use my sleeve to wipe sweat from my brow. The week has turned blazing hot. No sign of rain in several days has me worried about several of the more delicate herbs we grow. “There is lemonade if you would like a glass. Countess and Miss Primrose have taken several to the verandah already to keep watch for our guests.”

“Thank you, Horatio.” I smile at the lad and help myself to a cup of the tart drink before walking slowly to the verandah. I am a mess at the moment, hair falling from what began as a careful braid, wrapped and pinned tightly to my scalp. Thick strands now stick to my neck, soaked in sweat. Dirt and blood grace the folds of my skirt and it is entirely possible that I have some on my face as well. I’ve perspired straight through the fabric and am certain it shows beneath my arms. I rub at my shoulder where an ache and an itch has settled, and pausing at the edge of the shaded stone area, smile at the sight that greets me.

Primrose and Maysilee play while Madge looks on, sipping her lemonade. Mary sits working diligently on some mending. All four of them wear smiles on their faces and laugh at Maysilee as she chatters on, twirling a flower in her pudgy toddler fingers and squealing about an insect that lands on the petals.

Content and happy. This is how I wish them to remain, without weighty cares. That is for me to bear, not them. This reminder of what is to be gained soothes the agitation I have felt the past few days as I watched the preparations for the arrival of Miss Everdeen’s betrothed. The servants, unaware of the circumstances of our engagement, have worked themselves into an excitement I cannot bear to contain nor hope to control. They are convinced it must be a great love match, given the speed with which it occurred. After all, my parents were a love match.

They believe my marriage will bring such a blessing on our household that will surely mean the turn of fortune for us all. Health for my father, a bountiful harvest. Would that I could promise them such a thing. I cannot, but the spark of hope already burns deep in their hearts. I do not wish to smother it.

“Oh! Look!” Prim exclaims and hurries to the low wall surrounding the verandah.

“What is it?” Madge asks.

“Dust in the lane! He’s here! Mary! Tell Katniss and Mother that he’s here!”

Mary scurries to put her mending away and curtsies as she passes by me, a wide smile on her face as my sister leans over the wall to catch a glimpse. I do not need one. I am already aware of what he looks like on a horse and make my way to the door instead.

Well I suppose there are worse things than greeting my fiance covered in dirt, sweat, and entrails. It is not like I am usually at my best when he sees me anyways.

“Oh, Katniss…should you change your dress or…freshen up a bit?” my mother asks as she meets me at the door. She eyes my appearance and seems appropriately scandalised. I lift my nose and glide outside the house to greet him.

“I think not.” He may as well be reminded first off of what sort of wife he’s getting. I shall not change for him.

Cicero comes to a plodding halt, and dips his head once, shaking his grey mane. If I expected them to dismount at the house, I was sorely mistaken.

“Miss Everdeen,” Peeta says with an incline of his head, and a small, ridiculous shiver runs through me as I curtsy. His mouth twitches and I cannot be certain if he’s laughing or frowning at me with his eyes obscured in the shadows created by his hat. I glare up at him and spit out my words.

“Welcome to Everdeen, Mr. Mellark. Won’t you dismount?”

“Momentarily.” He nods once then looks past me. “You must be Mrs. Everdeen.”

“Yes,” my mother steps forward and from the back of his horse, Peeta manages to take her hand in his. At some sort of silent command, Cicero bends his front legs in imitation of a bow. Peeta mirrors the motion, bending at his torso over my mother’s hand like some knight of old.

“An honour to meet you, madame. Peeta Mellark at your service.”

“Oh,” my mother says, her cheeks turning pink in a way that is not caused by heat nor by the sun. I grind my teeth together and step forward to end this nonsense.

“Will you not dismount and come inside?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“We will see to our horses first, if that is alright.” It is then that I notice Joe, astride his dark brown with an impertinent grin on his face as he tips his hat to me. My hands wish for a bow and a swift arrow, but I manage to nod in agreement and stand back as they depart for the stables.

“My goodness, he is a handsome one,” my mother breathes as they ride toward the stable, her eyes fixed on Peeta’s back. “He takes after Reginald in looks but his manner of speaking…there’s something different and yet so pleasant about it… Where did you say he was educated?”

“I don’t believe he has been. He’s not a legitimate son,” I say and my mother spins to gape at me. My cheeks heat and I glance down at the ground. “Everything went so wrong, Mama. I do not know what to do.”

“Oh Katniss. I do not think it has all gone wrong at all,” she says and then laughs, winding an arm around me and turning me back towards the house. “Whatever it is, it is certainly salvageable.”

“Then… you are not scandalised?”

“Absolutely not. Surprised, yes. Scandalised, I should think not. Your Peeta had no control over the manner of his birth. No choice in the matter at all. The only thing he has control over is what manner of man he is.” My mother leans back and cranes her neck, as though seeking another glimpse of him. She chuckles and turns back to me as a scowl takes over my face. “And thus far, he appears to be a fine man indeed. He could not take his eyes from you and did not even balk at your ghastly appearance.”

“He was perhaps wondering why he agreed to marry such a wretch. Or dare I hope he actually felt apprehension at my fearsome appearance,” I mutter and my mother laughs. The sound courses through me like sweet wine.

“No darling, I think not. He may take after Reginald in the shape and colour of his features, but that look in his eyes is not one his father ever displayed, to my knowledge.”

“You are imagining things where they do not exist,” I tell her sadly. I do not know why it is now that all of this spills from me as Mother walks with me up the stairs towards my room, not father’s. Perhaps I’ve held it in so long that it cannot be helped. Or perhaps I have indeed, truly missed my mother. She has seemed so absent recently, in her preoccupation first with my father and then with preparations for my wedding. “He only agreed to marry me to protect his brother from scandal.”

“You did not mention that,” Mother says and purses her lips as I scramble for words. She shakes her head and waves it away before I can manage to utter a single coherent syllable. “Perhaps that was one of his motivations, but men recover quite easily from scandal. It gives them an air of mystery and danger. They do not marry for such a small thing as that.” I stare at her and she gives me a secretive smile. “Unless I am a blind fool, protecting his brother was not his only motivation for agreeing to marry you, Katniss.”

I sputter and lay a hand over my stomach to control the writhing of nerves and feelings. Before I can work up a proper hysteria or denial at what her words might mean, before I can insist to her that he hates me, she speaks again.

“Where did his scars originate from?”

“I do not know exactly. He spent some time in the infantry.”

“Hmmm, that is likely the source. Does he know of yours, darling?”

“I…no,” I admit and duck my head to hide my expression. “I never found occasion nor reason to tell him.”

Unless Robert told him or… or perhaps Peeta spoke the truth and it was him at the masquerade. But that is such a quagmire in my head still that I am not ready to speak of it with anyone. I still have not even told Madge of Peeta’s preposterous claim.

“No matter. I doubt it shall bother him at all.”

I think back on our last conversation, on his insistence that it was he at the masquerade, the soft touch of his fingers between mine and the warmth that even now seeps into my blood at the memory of touch, how he wanted to speak with me alone before we signed the contracts, and even what Madge said about how viewing it as the past, she thinks that Peeta showed more interest in me than Robert. And how I once again find myself in a position of knowing little to nothing about the man I am to marry, only this time, there will be no masquerade to loosen our guard.

I nod to my mother despite my lingering doubts and enjoy her soft smile as she kisses my cheek.

“Though you may wish to tell him before the wedding night. Now, change and wash your face, attempt some order with that hair, and I will see our guests settled in time for tea.” I watch her a moment as she departs, humming slightly to herself and I wonder at the change in her.

************************

I send word for Peeta to join me in the study once he has had time to freshen up from his travels then abscond to the room I have been sharing with Madge that I might do the same. When I am ready to face the coming battle, I march to the study only to find him already there and waiting for me. I stand in the doorway and watch him, hands folded behind his back as he wanders down the line of shelves heavy with books. He pauses at one title and tilts his head. I gather my skirts and interrupt before he takes on some fool notion that all of this shall be his.

“Mr. Mellark, I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“Quite,” he answers and turns to face me as I move to put the large, imposing desk between us. We’ve not been alone since that day in the gardens, when he made his preposterous claim in regards to the masquerade. I feel as though I have lived a thousand years since then and do not wish to lose my wits for what I am about to say.

“We have matters to discuss,” I say as he comes to stand on the other side of the desk. I lift my chin, pleased with this arrangement, the reminder to him that he is a guest here, and not a wholly welcome guest.

“Shall we skip the idle chit chat then?”

“I think that the best course.”

“By all means then, Miss Everdeen, cut to the heart and let us be done with it. You’ve already made it quite clear you do not wish to marry me, so no need to repeat that.”

“You are a stranger to me yet, Mr. Mellark.”

“Not as much of a stranger as you think.”

“So you still hold to that ridiculous claim?”

“Why is it so ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous or not, it means that I cannot trust you. You have already lied to me at least once.” At this, he has the dignity to hang his head.

“Indeed I have no defense for that other than it was done in protection of someone I care for deeply.”

“What am I to believe, Mr. Mellark? If it was in fact you behind that mask, then how much of what you said was in the name of the act? How much of it was you pretending to be Sir Robert and how much of it was truth–”

“I did not speak a single lie that night at the masquerade,” he says and lifts his eyes to mine. They flash with a warmth and near anger that nearly overwhelms me. I stagger back a step and then regroup. “I attempted to emulate my brother and failed horribly. The only falsehood in it was in allowing you to believe that I was Robert, not myself.”

“It does not matter,” I insist. “What matters is that if it was you, you knowingly and purposely deceived me that night, and if it was not you, you outright lie in trying to claim it was. To what purpose, I cannot fathom, but either way, you have deceived me and therefore, I cannot trust you.”

“And what of you, madame? Can you swear that all of your actions in regards to my brother were honest?”

“That is none of your concern. It is between Sir Robert and myself.”

“I think it is of my concern seeing as how I am now the one who will be speaking vows with you.”

“We are clearly not going to agree on this matter.” I sit in the chair and stubbornly pull papers in front of me, hot fury boiling inside me at his insinuations that I somehow misled Robert. He knew precisely what sort of marriage I expected. I played no games with his heart.

Except that I went to that masquerade with intentions to kiss him…or court him in a way, and he eloped after. I rub my temples and sigh, unsure of myself and how to handle this tricky matter. Peeta echoes the sound and sits opposite me, his hand rubbing his left thigh as if it pains him.

“You are quite right, Miss Everdeen.”

“Am I?” I ask with a soft snort.

“I set out to protect Robert and yet my motivations became…confused and entangled along the road. I cannot remove the deceptions that already exist between us nor erase any hurt I may have caused you in the process. I can only hope to prove to you through time and devotion that I am worthy of your trust.” His words stun me and our eyes lock. His seem so sad and sincere, almost pleading. “We are to be married, whether you and I wish it or not at this point. I do not wish to spend our lives locked in eternal combat over this or any matter.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“If we could…acknowledge what has happened yet not linger on it then perhaps we could build a sort of alliance.”

“An alliance,” I test out the word and lean towards him, the wood of the desk pressing into my chest. “How would this alliance proceed, Mr. Mellark?”

“You’ve need of funds, I assume to keep Everdeen flourishing and to care for your father. You’ve also need of security in the event of his passing. Your mother, your sister, the countess and her charming daughter – all people who rely on you for a home that I assume will be snatched from beneath your feet upon his death. I can provide both of those.”

My cheeks flame and I nod. “Have you an estate that we might call home?”

“I do not,” he says and gives me a strange sort of smile. “The Marquis had no qualms providing me with funds and a commission, but lands are the inheritance of a gentleman. Not his bastard son.”

I manage not to cringe at his speech nor think of the uncharitable thoughts I have prescribed to him given his birth. Pity for him will not do. I need to establish the path forward first.

“The money should be enough to buy us some time,” he offers.

Us. The word hangs in the air between us, an invitation to an accord.

“Miss Everdeen, I have spent my days in a household of an unhappy marriage where the husband and wife are at constant odds. It is…toxic to growth and difficult for everyone around them. Never knowing what is acceptable to one party or the other when sometimes the husband makes decisions merely for the sake of angering the wife and vice versa. I do not wish to continue in such a home after our marriage, and I imagine that you do not either.”

I hesitate in answering, although I already know he speaks the truth. Did I not just think this morning on how happy and carefree my sister and Madge appeared, how I longed to maintain that for them? I cannot do that if I am constantly at war with my own husband, regardless of how our engagement came to be. I nod once and he smiles.

“I knew you were not so cruel,” he says, soft and warm as my cheeks heat inexplicably. “You care far too much for their well being for that.”

At this he nods towards the windows which overlook the garden. A timely laugh reaches my ears to solidify our understanding of one another.

“I will not bow to your dictates on how to run Everdeen,” I say, searching for firm footing in this strange new land.

“I would not ask you to. I have no expertise on the running of an estate. That was not a future I was educated for, although I would like to change that to a degree. I wish to help, to be an asset and an active participate in this alliance, not a burden. And I cannot stand the thought of being idle.”

I tilt my head and wonder at the concessions he makes so easily. “How long did you wish to wait to say the vows?”

“However long you wish to wait. I would take months to court you properly, if you would grant them to me.” The heat spreads from my cheeks down my neck. “I sense however, that while you might have doubts about an immediate union, your father’s health dictates some haste.”

“Perhaps a week then,” I offer and he nods once. I stand and he rises to bow. Despite the lies still between us, it is the first real flicker of hope that I feel sparking to life in my breast. “In the meantime, perhaps you should acquaint yourself with your future home.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure.” A small shiver runs down my spine and I scowl slightly. It would not do for me to fall ill at such a time as this. I shall need to speak to Mrs. Chilton about the temperatures in the house.

************************

I have heard rumors of life in the city providing many diversions. A life full of social engagements, parties and teas. If it is anything like the month I spent in Capitol, then I can do well enough without it. I much prefer the sort of busy life of the country. There is always work to be done. Crops to tend and harvest, fields to prepare, livestock to see to, cheeses to be made from milk, herbs to be dried, and so much more. Everdeen produces a wide range of herbal remedies for everything from a cough to dry, papery skin. It is a year round occupation of growing, reaping and sowing, processing, packaging and selling. There isn’t a day that passes without some sort of task needing to be done.

And sometimes, when the work is done early, there is time for enjoyment and socialising. A wedding is nothing if not fodder for the gossips, a reason for local gentry to roll up their carpets, sweep their floors, tune their pianos, slaughter meats to be roasted, and invite a host of guests. Peeta’s arrival at Everdeen provides the excuse and an invitation arrives over tea from Mrs. Thompson, whose family of two daughters and two sons lives but a half an hour ride from Everdeen.

“Oh but you must attend our dinner tonight!” She insists and my mother heartily agrees, pausing only to ask my assurance that Peeta is not too tired from his journey to attend.

“He has had a day of rest,” I say, although I would rather decline. I can tell that my mother will not refuse, and it has been so long since she has left the house that I cannot pass on this opportunity. Peeta will simply have to bear it whether he wishes to or not.

“Splendid! I am happy to hear as our cook already began roasting the lamb before I left.”

The remainder of the day is lost in preparations for the dinner we are to attend. Madge fusses over my appearance as I try to wave her off.

“This is not the Capitol. No one will care how I look.”

“It is your first public appearance with Peeta as your betrothed,” she insists. “You will be marry in a week, which will seem quite hasty to some. The gossips will be relentless.”

I wish to ask why I should care what the gossips think, but Primrose wanders in then and squeals over my dress, spinning romantic fantasies that have us all shaking our heads and laughing. Hope blossoms from her eyes and her words, and I cannot bring myself to destroy the seedlings.

Peeta was correct on one thing. I cannot bear to force my family to live in a house full of strife. I will find a way to make this marriage to him work, if only for the sake of their happiness.

It is a strange sort of mood as we ride in the carriage to the Thompson estate. Peeta exits first and assists each of us out. I am last to exit the carriage and his grip on my hand tightens for a moment, halting my steps.

“They will ask questions. How much are we to reveal?”

“I…Not the truth,” I say, sounding scandalised and breathless even to my ears. He smiles slightly and his thumb caresses over my knuckles.

“Perhaps a version of the truth then, omitting your brief engagement to Robert?”

“Yes,” I manage to agree.

Dinner proceeds as expected. Everyone wishes to hear the story of how Peeta and I met. Astonishingly, I remain silent for most of it. Peeta captures their attention from the start, spinning a tale of a young woman bravely filling her father’s shoes and unfortunately running into a mishap with her horse and some mud. He omits the examination of my ankle, much to my relief, and simplifies the story enough to explain without revealing intimate details. Our reunion in Capitol he depicts as happy circumstance, not the result of my pursuing his brother, and tidily wraps it up after that by changing the subject to divert attention away from us.

I am congratulated and praised for such a fine match. He steals their hearts in a matter of minutes and I cannot help but be a little annoyed yet simultaneously in awe.

No one mentions that while Peeta’s father is a Marquis, his mother is an unknown, and I wonder how many of them know the truth regarding that.

After dinner, the music begins. Prim is swept into dances, and a young man braves asking Madge to partner for a set. My mother engages with several friends she has barely seen the past months since my father’s accident. As much as I wish for my father’s recovery, this small scene assures me somehow. The joy is contagious and I soon find myself smiling and bouncing in time to the tune. Beside me, Peeta stands stoic and I cannot resist the temptation to tease him.

“Mr. Mellark!” He bends down to hear me over the ruckus. “I am still owed a dance!” His reaction is slow as he stands slightly and seems to be struggling with something. “Or do you find me a repulsive partner?”

“Never, madame,” he says.

“Then you have something against dancing with your fiance? The gossips will have quite a bit of fun with that tidbit,” I say. Irritation at his hesitance threatens to shift to real anger.

He glances over the dancers before giving me a look full of sadness and apology. “Please believe that this has nothing to do with you, Miss Everdeen.”

“I do not understand, Mr. Mellark.”

He takes my hand in his and before I can protest, leads me away from the dancing, out into the darkened hall, turning to speak to me. “You are not the only one left marked and disfigured by life, Miss Everdeen.”

I nearly run from the hall at the reminder of what I told him – or Robert – that night. And of what followed. The memory of lips on my skin and the scent of night blossoms heavy and seductive around me threatens to plunge me into a depth I am not sure I can escape, but the questions in his eyes hold me captive and grounded long enough to ask him one thing.

“You wear yours on your face. How does that prevent you from dancing?”

“Those are not the only ones. I have a false leg, Miss Everdeen.”

“Pardon?”

“Kick my left shin.”

“What?”

“See for yourself, unless you’d rather I remove my trousers?” he says, a teasing smile lifting one corner of his lips. A furious blush takes over and I lift my foot into his left shin, only to encounter something far too solid to be a flesh and bone leg. My eyes leap to his as a strange echo fills my ears. “Now you know. I would embarrass you far more by dancing with you than I ever could by not dancing with you.”

Before I can form a proper response, he takes my hand in his, kisses it, and then vanishes. I’m left with my head spinning and a thousand questions burning in my mind. How did he lose his leg? How on earth has he managed to appear as though he is still intact? It explains so much – the limp, the slow methodical motions, even why he did not dismount that day in the rain or at the stairs to Everdeen yesterday morning. How then would he get back on his horse?

I lean back on the wall and laugh, only just keeping the sound from veering into the realm of hysterical as I realise… There is far more to the man I am about to marry than I could have imagined.

To be continued…

************************

Dear Readers,

The 2019 Everlark Fic Exchange has ended and despite my best efforts, I was unable to bring this story to a close in time. Given how much work the lovely @javistg and @xerxia31 put into this event every year, I cannot ask them to continue formatting and posting my anonymous submissions. I’d like to make it more simple for them. However, I would also like to finish this story as an anonymous writer. Therefore, I am asking for your help. If you are willing, please comment on or reblog this chapter with a note that you would welcome receiving one or two future chapters into your inbox and posting them on your blog. More than one volunteer is welcome to spread the task around the fandom.

Before you volunteer, I require a few small things. You must have your blog settings configured to accept anonymous submissions and be willing to make sure each chapter is appropriately tagged similar to how EFE tags their submissions. This will make it easier for other readers to follow and for EFE to keep track of chapters as they are posted. Also, you must be able to add in a Read More. No one likes to scroll past an endlessly long text post. These are both things usually best done from the website, not the mobile app which sometimes messes with formatting. I think it goes without sayng that you will not, under any circumstances, alter the story I submit to you, regardless of how you feel about it. Finally, should you figure out my identity somehow, I ask that you keep it a secret.

Thank you all for reading and for commenting. I hope you enjoy the remainder of the story.

~~ M ~~

[starstruck-xavier]

Fight Or Flight, Am I Right?

chapter one

ao3 || wattpad || fanfiction masterpost || main masterpost || chapter two

words: 3517 (total fic has 5122) ships: lamp (interpret it however you want though) warnings: violence, blood, injuries but a happy ending

summary: When Virgil is feeling down, a dangerous, painful manticore-chimera fight turns out to be exactly what he needs.

Virgil had been feeling off-colour recently. It hadn’t been anything major, only the mild anxiety that came from Thomas thinking about his friends who were starting to move away and take different paths in life. Of course, he still had Joan and Talyn, they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, but some of his other friends had already gone elsewhere and Thomas was reduced to video calls and texts. In fact, right now Thomas was texting Terrence, missing him as always, but today the feeling was exemplified due to the amount of dwelling he had done over the whole situation. Virgil curled into a ball on the couch, up in the confines of the mind palace, sighing into a pout as he picked at the loose threads on his jacket and pondered depressingly on what once was.

He knew that it was impossible to have Thomas’ friends around him at all times; they had all already done a video in which the sides all transformed into Joan, Talyn, Terrence and Valerie each before Thomas finally decided that he can keep up with his friends in different ways. That didn’t stop the melancholy from Thomas missing his loved ones creeping into the atmosphere of the mind palace, however. While Virgil didn’t seem much more disgruntled than usual, it was surely rubbing off on the other sides. Even Patton didn’t have as much a bounce in his step as usual when he walked through the common room.

“Hey, kiddo, are you feeling alright?” Patton feigned energy in his voice as he crouched to face Virgil, who lifted his head a little from his hunched position to meet the father figment’s eyes. “I’m about to go prepare some spaghetti for later. Ooh, Virge! What do you call a fake noodle?” The anxious trait awaited the answer, watching as Patton broke out into a cheesy grin. “An impasta!” Patton clamped his hand onto one of Virgil’s legs, which was starting to numb in the constrictive position Virgil was in, to prevent himself from falling backwards as he laughed at his own joke. Virgil couldn’t help but smile too. He’d never heard that one before. As the two brightened up, the melancholy vibes in Thomas’ head began to weaken.

Patton eventually composed himself, standing up straight again when his legs cramped in his crouched position. “Are you feeling a little down, Kylo Friend?” he questioned, concern dusted across his features. Patton had a tendency to see right through the other sides when they tried to lie about their emotions, seeing as he encompassed morality and had his fair share of feelings, knowing what many of them felt and looked like. Recalling this information, Virgil bit his tongue before he could say he was okay.

“I suppose,” Virgil finally decided his positioning was uncomfortable and shifted his legs so that they hung over the arm of the couch. Then, he thought for a second. “Thomas is feeling sad because he misses his friends, which posits the question; are you feeling down, Pat?”

The paternal trait’s smile faltered just a little. “Well, I guess I’m not feeling my absolute best right now, but I’m working hard to get back to my usual self again. Don’t worry about me, kiddo. You should focus on making yourself feel better. In fact,” He presented to Virgil his black fidget cube with a flourish. “Here you go, Virge. I’d better start cooking!”

Virgil took the cube with a silent thanks and watched as Patton bounded over to the kitchen. Over the calming sound of the buttons on his cube, he heard a very faint “Oh hey, Logan!”, followed by vaguely audible conversation. This took Virgil by surprise just a little; he may have been too busy drowning in his sorrows to see Logan cross the common room, or perhaps he was there before Virgil entered the room, which sounded odd. As he thought about it, the man in question strolled out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in hand, crossing the room to set it on the table in front of the couch. Virgil once again repositioned his limbs to not face completely away from Logan as he sat beside him.

“Hi, Logan.”

“Greetings, Virgil.” Logan sipped his still steaming coffee, eyeing the fidget cube for only a moment. “Are you feeling disconcerted over Thomas’ nostalgic memories of his friends?”

Virgil stayed silent for a second, turning the cube to spin the joystick around counter-clockwise. “I… I guess, yeah, I just… never thought of it that way. I thought I was just feeling bad because Thomas is missing Terrence.”

The logical trait hummed thoughtfully. “It is true that Thomas is feeling more sentimental than on average over his long-distance friendships, but that is because he is nostalgizing about being in the physical presence of his friends. He is longing for the past, which, in the case of a habitual worrier, directly affects how you’re feeling. Would you like me to remind him of this so that he can instead focus on the here and now?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled gratefully. “That’d be nice. Thank you, Logan.”

“In the meantime, Virgil, remember the breathing technique we’ve learned and perhaps listen to some music with those large headphones of yours to prevent any further nervous feelings.” Logan nodded his head towards the anxious trait before sinking out into the real world.

Virgil stretched out his legs and arms, standing up in hopes of finally returning to the confines of his own room and perhaps feeling a little better. As he meandered over to his own room, his heart began to beat a little faster. Logan was never the best at preventing Thomas from nostalgizing, but eventually, Thomas would come around, so this anxiety was only going to last a short while. Virgil finally realised why Logan had told him to remember to breathe. He leaned against the wall, a hand over his heart, sucking air into his lungs at timed intervals. He could do this.

The sound of a door swinging open accompanied by loud singing quickly cut Virgil’s exhale short. The resident prince appeared in Virgil’s misty peripheral, belting out some random Disney song until he finally noticed who he had scared the life out of.

“Hey, sunshine! Whatcha doing over there?” Roman strode across the hallway to meet Virgil, peering curiously into his eyes.

“Uh, breathing, hopefully.” After the small scare, Virgil’s heart had returned back to where it was before, which was still not good. It appeared that Logan was still trying to make Thomas focus on the present and future. His anxious demeanour became apparent to Roman, who thought for a moment before visibly having an idea.

“Ah, come with me, Virge. I’ll assist you in quelling your anxiety.” The royal trait took Virgil’s hand, bringing him into his own room, across from Virgil’s. The anxious trait couldn’t help but notice the extra door in the room as Roman sat him down on the bed. Apart from that, the room looked as extravagant as anyone would have expected. Theatre awards lined the shelves, the walls were caked with posters and words painted in cursive saying stuff like "Believe in yourself”, which Virgil would definitely make fun of Roman for once he calmed down.

“Now, Virge, remember the technique.” Roman’s voice softened considerably as he began to count to four, Virgil inhaling accordingly. Then, he held his breath as Roman counted to seven, finally exhaling a little raggedly as he counted to eight. This continued for a few minutes until Virgil’s weary heart began to beat more slowly. The tense feeling that gripped his shoulders lessened, allowing him to sit up from his hunched posture. He nodded to Roman, a confirmation that the technique had worked.

“Thank you, Roman.” Virgil softly sighed, merely feeling his fidget cube in his hand rather than doing anything with it.

“No problem, my storm. Say, do you have any other plans today? If not, I think you would feel much better after taking a stroll with me through my most recent imaginative world. What do you say?” Roman held out his hand again dramatically, waiting for Virgil to think it over.

Roman had always been making extra little mindscapes inside Thomas’ and could create non-playable characters, bosses and secrets, but Virgil had never been inside one of his worlds. He was always too nervous to try after one incident when Roman returned with a large wound in his side. The resident prince had insisted that it was an accident, that one of Remus’ creatures infiltrated his side of the imagination, which only made Virgil’s fear worse as he didn’t want to encounter the duke again.

“I’ll make sure that Remus doesn’t get in our way, sunshine.” It was as if Roman read his mind, taking both of his hands as a sign of promise.

“…Okay, fine. But if one of us gets hurt, it’s your fault.”

—

Roman’s world looked like a real-life version of an RPG medieval village. Cobbled roads led to various dwellings, market stalls and blacksmiths as villagers milled around with their children, making friendly conversation with each other. The sky was a pleasant blue with a few clouds dotted about, drifting noiselessly over the scene. Roman briefly explained the mission he was on - to retrieve a pearl necklace from the confines of a cave where the mighty manticore-chimera dozes.

“We shall work together to distract the beast, and either we will defeat it, or we will retrieve the necklace and leave the beast alive. We don’t have to defeat it, but we get to take its treasures if we do.” Roman grinned towards Virgil, quickly noticing his terrified expression. “Ah— although, of course, even if we don’t retrieve the necklace our quest will not be a failure, my storm. If anything, I may be able to strategise better, for I have attempted to take on this quest by myself many times before. I will hold our safety as my top priority here, so do not worry about getting hurt.” Virgil still didn’t look ready to take on the quest, but he nodded in agreement anyway. The two began to trek towards the cave a while away from the village.

“Hey, uh, Roman?” Virgil spoke unsurely, his legs beginning to shake ever so slightly as the cave grew larger in his vision. “When you get hurt on these quests, is it, like, painful?”

“Oh, yes, most certainly. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I mean— that wasn’t the answer I wanted, to be entirely honest.”

Roman noted the slight quiver in Virgil’s voice, feeling a twinge of guilt as he realised that perhaps this would have the opposite effect on his anxiety levels that he intended. He squeezed Virgil’s hand reassuringly, lacing their fingers together. “You’ll be okay, sunshine, I promise. If you don’t wish to participate you can sit outside and admire the scenery. I’ve been training for months to defeat the manticore-chimera, I think I’m strong enough to take it on.”

“But what if you get badly hurt?” The two stopped before the mouth of the cave. A feeling of dread settled itself onto Virgil’s heart like a weighted blanket while Roman led him to a large rock to sit on.

“I’m confident that I will be just fine, Virge. However, if you think I’m in trouble, summon Patton or Logan into my room and they’ll know what to do.” The prince let go of Virgil’s hand and brought him into a tight embrace, hoping to pass on some of his courage to the anxious trait. Then, he pulled away and began his quest to infiltrate the cave.

It was so dark in there that Virgil couldn’t see what was going on, much less a mighty beast, so he sat on the large rock, picking up smaller stones and trying to carve into the surface, writing and doodling shakily. After about three minutes, which felt like three hours, he couldn’t sit still anymore and began to wear footprints into the track leading to the cave. He continuously walked back and forth, occasionally stopping to listen for any sign of Roman needing help. He was almost bouncing on his feet to relieve himself of the tension.

Virgil remembered the night when Logan had brought Roman back from his quest, looking extremely dishevelled. He saw the blood staining Roman’s shirt and almost fainted at the sight. Roman never experienced any long term effects after that night, but it had left a mental scar on Virgil as he immediately retreated to his room to cry for hours on end, hopelessly worried for his prince’s safety. Tears began to sting his eyes as he continued to pace in circles, wondering if the quietness from the cave would be a good excuse to summon the others.

His train of thought was immediately cut short by the roar of the beast.

Virgil raced to the mouth of the cave, watching in frozen terror as the manticore-chimera stretched out its many limbs and heads with a shrieking battle cry. Roman, caught off guard, had been pinned against the wall by the snake component of the monster, fumbling for his sword until the snake suddenly sank its teeth into his right shoulder, eliciting a pained shout.

The next few minutes were a blur. Virgil ran to Roman’s side in record time, took his sword from its sheath and swung down blindly, seemingly hitting the snake as another screech bounced off the walls. He sprinted to the other side of the cave, just to get the beast away from Roman, only just missing a swing from the horns of the goat head. At one point he tripped onto the ground but he didn’t feel a thing, only continuing to sprint until he slammed himself into the wall of the cave, peering across to see the royal trait stumbling towards him.

“Roman, get the others!” Virgil’s voice distorted and echoed, travelling swiftly to Roman’s ears. He didn’t wait to watch him leave the cave as a massive paw slammed into his side, sending him sliding across the rough ground. The burning in his skin went undetected as the adrenaline took full control. Virgil blindly sliced and stabbed with his sword while skirting around the area, a bright white pearl catching his eye. Without a second thought, he snatched the jewellery from where it hung on a jutted piece of rock in the wall, running, running, just trying to find his way out. Another giant paw caught the hood of his jacket, sending him falling backwards, face to face with the monster, missing its snake’s head. Flight switched to fight - Virgil took a firm grip of Roman’s sword and aimed perfectly for the lion’s eye. The beast screamed painfully, stumbling backwards and spilling blood over its fur, allowing Virgil to get up again and run, running for his life, still not feeling anything, getting closer to the exit, catching a glimpse of his friends in the light.

The last thing he remembered before fainting was the sound of Patton’s scream and the feeling of falling.

—

If he couldn’t feel anything that was happening to him before, he definitely could now.

“Roman, do you realise that such an activity would’ve had the adverse effect of what you were intending?” A blurry voice cut into his consciousness. Virgil opened his eyes slowly, finding himself back in the mind palace. Patton's watery face came into focus, and he realised that his head was in the father figment’s lap, on the couch. Meanwhile, he could hear Logan lecturing Roman from across the room. He attempted to shuffle his body onto its side, to look for Roman, but the burning pain in his left side elicited a pained cry from him which, despite being quite quiet, immediately attracted everyone’s attention.

“Hey, Virge,” Patton pulled him back to his original position, speaking in that soft way he does just after crying. “You’re back in the mind palace, you’re all safe now.”

The sound of Roman and Logan’s footsteps grew closer until Roman fell onto his knees by the couch, taking one of Virgil’s thinly bandaged hands into both of his own. “I’m so sorry, my sunshine! I didn’t mean for anybody to get hurt. I made a fatal mistake, awakening the beast, I should’ve just done side quests with you instead, I’m such a fool, I—“

“Calm down, Princey.” Virgil turned his head to look at Roman’s puffy eyes, trying to ignore the shot of pain in his muscles. “I’m not mad at you. I’m glad I was able to save you.” His voice croaked with pain. "If I hadn’t…”

“…You would’ve incurred much more serious injuries, Roman.” Logan piped up, sitting next to Patton as an offering of comfort. “To the point where you may have had to spend a long time in recovery before you could go into the imagination again. I think that Virgil made a valiant effort in the cave and made good use of his fight-or-flight reflexes, however, prolonged use of such reflexes can result in micro-tears in the muscle tissue, meaning you’ll be hurting for some time, Virge. Your function as Thomas’ anxiety is not inhibited, and your injuries inflicted by the fight will heal within a few weeks to a month, but you’ll be experiencing some additional muscle pain and fatigue for only a few days.”

Roman still looked incredibly remorseful, sniffling loudly and scrubbing at his eyes with his left hand, facing the floor. That was when Virgil finally noticed; Roman was not in his usual royal attire, instead wearing a fitting white t-shirt and black basketball shorts. A large patch poked out from under the neck of his shirt, indicating that his snake bite had been taken care of. Virgil also realised his own lack of the usual jacket. He craned his head painfully to see a comfortable pair of sweatpants, then his oversized lilac t-shirt. His legs felt numb on the outside, but at the same time, the pain sunk deep into his bones. He let his head fall back onto Patton’s leg, still facing Roman.

“Don’t cry, Ro.” Virgil attempted a kind smile, but it seemed that his words made Roman even more upset. “I can deal with some muscle pain for a while. I can’t deal with you being in a full-body cast, unable to do any work. Sometimes I just need an adrenaline rush, anyways. Keeps me on guard.” The prince looked up at Virgil with a slight teary smile.

“And we’ll help you both through your injuries, kiddos. I’m just glad you’re both right here.” Patton began to card his fingers through Virgil’s hair, leaning into Logan slightly. “I can’t imagine how tough it would be if any one of us was hurt as badly as you could’ve been, Roman. I’m gonna need you to promise me that you’ll be more careful in the future.” at that, Roman nodded profusely, his tears getting swiped away by the heels of his hands.

Logan reached for the small table right by the end of the couch where he sat, presenting a bunch of tissues to Roman. “You need to use these, Roman, or you’ll agitate your skin.” His voice also softened, feeling touched by this moment. Virgil watched him scrunch a spare tissue into his hand, a wet glistening behind his glasses that he seldom saw. Perhaps it was the amount of sap drooping over the room, or the feeling of his fellow sides in danger sinking in for him, but Logan was still trying to steel his expression, as he usually did. One second of eye contact between him and Virgil, and suddenly the dam broke, and everybody pooled together into a teary hug, careful not to hurt each other. Virgil found himself being manoeuvred gently into a sitting up position, able to sink into the space between Patton and Logan, leaning his head onto Logan’s shoulder. He heard the uncommon yet unmistakeable snivel from Logan as his arm fit snug between Virgil’s back and the comfortable couch. Patton pulled Roman up carefully, allowing him to sit on his lap as his arms draped across the pile of comfort. There everyone sat, taking in the moment for a few minutes until Virgil let out a sleepy yawn.

“Let’s get you two into your beds to rest, kiddos.” Patton helped Roman to a stand, his arm tightly around his waist as the two began the walk to Roman’s room. Meanwhile, Logan quickly stood and lifted Virgil, holding him firmly in his arms. After confirming that he wasn’t hurting him, Logan joined Patton and Roman up to the corridor which led to each room. Gradually, they each began to filter through their own doors; Patton allowed Roman to make the walk to his bed after giving him a tight hug and many words of reassurance, and Logan laid Virgil onto his bed before tucking the covers around him. Everybody bid each other goodnight, feeling certainly rattled but nevertheless loving towards each other.