#yes i did basically just repeat what someone else said what about ir

[byfulcrums]

I mean this completely seriously….Artemis in Hades is someone I can see being scolded by her stepmother for challenging her and then crying about at her daddy’s lap (which happened. It happened into the Iliad. Ever since I’ve read that it’s hard to see Artemis as the unstoppable girlboss some people see her sometimes, and not in the bad way just a different way).

Artemis in Hades is basically an awkward (and spoiled, bc c'mon. Zeus spoiled her a lot during her youth don't lie to yourself) teenage girl who has no idea how to socialize during family dinners and I love that

Apollo gives me the vibes of that one gay flamboyant cousin that's the center of attention at every family gathering. (Artemis secretly thanks him for getting the attention off herself so she can sneak out)

[themadauthorshatter]

I'm bored.

I'm continuing with that Tagatha rework I made little while back, the one where Tedros is with Sophie even though he starts having feelings for Agatha.

We start off where we left off last time, but with Tedros and Sophie in their Surviving Fairytales class. She kicks her apologizing into overdrive and states she had panicked and didn't want to be indecent, going as far as to say she had gotten some bruises and cuts she didn't want him to see.

He nods and fakes a smile, telling her to drop it so they can just go back to how they used to be, since that's all she wants.

A little too much salt for her liking, but she hugs him and promises to be the best girlfriend he's ever asked for.

Agatha sees this exchange, and Tedros look at her with a look that says, 'There. Happy?' She mouths back, "Thank you."

If this were a movie, we'd see Tedros roll his eyes and smile back, but frown as he and Sophie join the rest of the class.

TIME JUMP TO TEDROS AND AGATHA'S SHATED CLASS!!!!!

Everyone's being good little students and taking notes or working on their assignments in a mostly quiet classroom, mostly because there's the scratching of quills on paper, the chirping of birds, the blowing of the wind, rustling of trees, and maybe some humming from Dovey as she sits at her desk. I'm not sure what she's doing, but it's keeping her busy enough to not notice Tedros and Agatha's whispered conversation, which goes as follows. Remember, they're whispering, and Dovey is right in front of them:

"I get wanting to keep your friend happy, but why'd you REALLY want me to talk to her?"

(Agatha keeps writing necausr she wants her lost points back, the ones she lost from 'helping' Sophie) "Shh!"

"Agatha."

(Agatha uses Ignore, which doesn't seem to be very effective.)

(Tedros uses Poke) "Agatha."

"Do your assignment."

(Tedros shows her a full, complete paper as he smiles.)

(Agatha glowers at him, quickly checks on Dovey, and keeps writing her paper.)

"What's Sophie ever done for you after all your favors for her? Aside from being your friend?"

"Let me work."

(Tedros leans back in his seat and thinks back on their conversation from the other night, about how she misses home and Sophie is possibly the only friend she has. He also remembers that they're both Readers, how Agatha asked how someone could talk to the School Master, and Agatha's claim that the two of them met the School Master. With all that, he puts the pieces together, and the final result makes him a little sad.)

"You think she's my true love, too, huh?"

(Agatha stops writing for a second before continuing, eyes locked on her paper.)

"And you think that if we kiss, you'll get back to your village?"

(Agatha nods this time, finished with her paper.)

(Tedros is silent as well for a while. The students turn in their papers, one after another, and Tedros catches Agatha just as she comes back from turning hers in.) "Do you really think you'll be happier in your village instead of here?"

"Tedros, Agatha, since ypu two have takem a liking to each other, would you mind sharing your conversation with the rest of us?"

(Both almost jump out of their skins when Dovey speaks up, and soon all eyes are on them, especially a jealous, angry Beatrix, a confused but encouraging Chaddick, and Kiko, who blushes and stares at Agatha.)

(Agatha starts fretting over the attention, but Tedros, for once, has her back.)

"I had a hard time with the assignment. Since Agatha's so smart, I figured I'd ask her for help."

(The whole class gawks at the two of them, surprised at his kindness towards Agatha, who is staring wide eyed at him.)

(Dovey's stern look changes to one of surprise and then to glee.) "How nice to see you've had a change of heart, dear Prince."

On her way to her dorm, Tedros catches up to Agatha, and walks next to her, repeating his question before Dovey cut him off.

The only answer she gives him is, "I'll know when I'm back home," and a door in the face.

Tedros gives a smile. It's not that she's playing hard to get, he just wants an answer out of her. And he's starting to like this down to Earth, real girl.

And she NEVER said she would be happier back home.

IT'S THE NEXT DAY IN SURVIVING FAIRYTALES! ANOTHER FINDING GOOD CHALLENGE! RULES: 6 EVERS AND 6 NEVERS WILL BE DISGUISED AS ROSES OR TULIPS. THE FIRST TO FIND AND CORRECTLY IDENTIFY A PERSON ON THEIR SIDE WINS!!

Tedros listens to his heart completely and is the first to find a disguised Agatha.

Both win the challenge.

Agatha is surprised.

Sophie is a little pissed.

She's even more pissed when the nymphs kick her out of the Ever line at lunch and sees Tedros not only ignore her, but walk toward Agatha and Kiko.

"Is it okay if I join you two?"

Kiko immediately responds, 'yes,' and Agatha makes room for him.

Sure, Kiko has a crush on Tristan, but she's a little more interested in Agatha and Tedros; if she's failing, at least Agatha will have herself a date for the Snow Ball.

Tedros is silent as they eat, Kiko and Tedros making small talk and trying to include Agatha. It eventually leads to one of them telling a joke that makes Agatha laugh, and Tedros and Kiko seeing a softer side to Agatha, one that CAN laugh and be beautiful.

She stops after a little while and remembers Tedros's question, which makes her frown.

Now that she has a friend that is actually nice to her, amd is starting to somewhat have a good time in her school, Agatha can't help but wonder if going home would really make her happy.

She avoids him and Kiko for about a week ,taking her assignments and homework and then locking herself in her room.

It also doesn't help that Sophie's been avoiding her and yelling at her because, "she's stealing her prince, and ruining her fairytale. If she had the chance, she'd throw Agatha off the bridge between the two schools for ruining everything in what was supposed to be her Happily Ever After and her life as a whole. She's nothing but a cruel, evil, ugly witch, and she wishes she'd left Agatha to rot in her house on the hill in the cemetary." There's more, but you get the point.

To get in on the "being nice to the witch train," and to try cheering her up because she heard Sophie going off on Agatha(Tedros ALSO heard this, but pretended to ignore it. You'll see why later), Beatrix tries coerce Agatha into a makeup and gossip session with the other Evergirls, even letting it slip that Sophie has been talking shit behind her back more than she thought and it might be good for Agatha to spill the beans and get it all out.

She gets a clump thrown at her face for this.

Agatha's silent in Good Deeds, after almost two weeks of hiding away in her room, though does have to fight a mini giggle fit as Tedros acts silly behind Dovey's back, i.e. waving and 'psst'-ing to get Agatha's attention. He doesn't get caught.

Agatha shakes her head and ignores him, tired from crying and just wanting to stay in her bad mood.

With a challenge accepted, in his mind, Tedros tosses some crumpled up notes her way, five to be exact.

THIS gets him caught, and a week of clappong chalkboard erasers.

These are the notes he tossed to Agatha in order:

'Sorry if what I said made you upset. Still, would you be happier here ir back home?'

'Kiko's nicer to you than Sophie. Just saying.'

'Please stop ignoring me (insert sad puppy face doodle)'

'Meet me in the hall after everyone's asleep, around ten or eleven. We have to talk'

They meet and Tedros, covered in some chalk dust, asks his question a third time.

Agatha snaps with, "I don't know!"

It silences Tedros, even as Agatha goes off on a very tearful and flustered rant about how she WANTS to go home, but doesn't want to leave Sophie behind, because she's Agatha's best friend, or, admittedly, Kiko, because she's super nice and didn't want to see her fail. She hadn't fully had a good time at school, but it has been enough for her to reconsider going home a little bit. She misses her mother and knows she's probably worried sick, even though Callis is probably just anxious about hearing Agatha's adventures in Evil. She wants to go home, but doesn't want to leave Sophie behind, as she's in danger in Evil.

She's worried about her mother back home, but is a little more worried about Sophie's safety.

Tedros states it shouldn't matter because of how Sophie's been treating her.

Agatha only responds, "She's the only friend I have. I don't have anyone else."

Tedros sits next to her and almost holds her hand, but falters, sort of getting that even though they're not insulting each other, they're still not THAT close yet. "You have me. A-and Kiko. Is... that enough?"

Agatha awkwardly wraps her arms around his neck and keeps crying, muffling the sound in his shoulder.

Tedros returns her hug and rubs and pats her back, telling her to let it out and that it's okay, she's going to be okay.

In his heart, he makes his decision in who he might love more.

The next day, while Agatha's sitting alone, hidden from the sight of anyone, hiding really well somewhere, Tedros asks Sophie if they can talk alone.

They go off into a small clearing away from everyone else, Sophie smiling and happy to possibly get her prince back and Tedros sullen and quiet.

He asks her if she cares about Agatha, mentioning all the things she did in order for the two of them to be together and kiss, which should send them home.

Sophie brushes it off by saying Agatha is a liar and never keeps her word.

"Funny. That sounds more like you than anyone else."

Sophie snaps that Tedros that he shouldn't care about Agatha because she isn't his true love.

Tedros counters with a question: Does Sophie REALLY love him? If she did, then why hasn't she told him more about Gavaldon, her family, even about her basic school life? Even better, what's the REAL reason she didn't she help him in the trial?

Sophie doesn't have an answer.

He apologizes and says that the two should just stay with their respective schools, even apologizing that he couldn't help get her or Agatha home.

Sohpie tries callimg him back, but he ignores her and starts looking for Agatha.

It takes him a WHILE, but he eventually finds her.

Apparently she's a better observer than he could imagine because she is sitting perfectly balanced in a willow tree.

"What do you want now?"

"I was just wondering if you needed a hand, but I don't think you do."

"Anything else?"

"The mates have practice later, and I still have detention. Are you doing anything at sunset?"

Agatha blushes and says no, and then admits she can't get down.

Tedros holds out his arms, Agatha slides and falls off the branch she's on, and lands safely in Tedros's arms, leading him to notice some climbing bruises on her legs.

"Come on, let's go to class."

"You're just doing this to get out of detention, aren't you?"

Tedros smiles and shrugs. "Your shoes aren't tied. I don't want you falling flat on your face."

This was part 2 of the Tagatha Touch-up AU!!! A bit longer, but kinda worth it. The ending was a little cheesy, but I hope you guys liked this! I had a good time with this, it's fun being cupid☺️!

Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed!!

[twstdreams]

Lion’s Hunt

Sorry for taking so long anon! Here is part 2 to Lion’s Chase if you chose option B!

Recap: @yandere-wishes​ “Scenario with Leona in which the reader (female) looks up to him as a big brother and is very close to him, but he has a crush on her and really wants to date her.”

After the sibling incident, you’d found it hard to approach Leona. Worry festered inside you and it grew in size each day as you felt something was off. At first glance, Leona looked the same as ever, confident grin glued to his face with an air of arrogance. However, you noticed when his eyes landed on you, they were briefly clouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was hate that flickered in his eyes, disappointment that glazed is gaze, or embers of anger that resided in those green eyes, you weren’t sure. At this point, you weren’t even sure if it was really there or if your stress had caused you to hallucinate.

“You should work on your roar,” taunted you as the sentence played on repeat inside your mind. Should you have confronted him after all? Anything seemed better than this guessing game you were surely losing. It felt like a hopeless puzzle and you kept trying to push the wrong pieces together.

Why was Leona so upset? Did he hate his siblings? Did he think it was presumptuous of you to say that you were like siblings? No, you were sure you were close to Leona. He let you get away with the most things, and he rarely put in the effort with anything else the way he did with you. You knew he played it off as casual boredom but there’s no way the two of you would spend as much time as you did together if he didn’t try. Yet now, the target of his ire, you felt uncertain. Maybe you didn’t know Leona that well. Maybe to him, you were a source of entertainment rather than someone he treasured.

Choose to:

a) Ask Ruggie for advice

b) Go outside to get some fresh air

A) Ask Ruggie for advice

You weren’t sure you were ready to face Leona again. You didn’t even know if you wanted to. If you just never brought up siblings again, would that be okay? You wouldn’t even be really surprised if Leona acted like nothing had happened, too lazy to bother to acknowledge the entire event. Yet, you knew even If he could brush it off that you had to know.

Leona’s unexpected outburst of displeasure seeded worry and curiosity. What had upset Leona? Did you break some unwritten rule or did this hint at some hidden past? The only issue was how to find out. That kind of information wasn’t on the internet and you doubted Leona would easily open up. You could already imagine it, Leona telling you that a little herbivore like you shouldn’t go sniffing around like that or you’d get your nose bitten off.

Your brain was going to implode. No matter how many times you went over the events, you couldn’t figure it out. What set off Leona? You could almost feel your brain cells melting. This was pointless. So, you went to the only other person you knew that would have an inkling of what Leona’s thoughts could be.

Given how close you and Leona were, you and Ruggie had met several times before, both of you used to Leona pushing off various responsibilities and chores onto you two. You explained your predicament but Ruggie’s amused expression did little to ease your anxiety.

“I’m not a snitch, you know that.” You groaned. This was what you were afraid.

“You’re not snitching!” you insisted, “You’re just letting me know how I messed up!”

“Please!” you pleaded, “Ugh Leona’s either gonna make fun of me or call me stupid, and you know that.” An expression you can’t quite decipher crossed Ruggie’s face briefly. Soon after, a smile wriggled its way onto his face.

“We’re both Leona’s friends but we’re different,” he explained as if that statement clarified anything.

“Different?” you echoed. Obviously, you were two distinct people, but you had a feeling that wasn’t what Ruggie was referring to.

“You’re a special friend,” he added emphasizing the word friend. An unfamiliar glimmer twinkled in his eye. You wondered If you glared long enough, he’d finally spell it out for you.

“Wait, you don’t mean, like…,” you could barely get the words out, but you persevered, “Romantically?” Ruggie’s grin remained but before you can ask for clarification, the distinct sound of something shattering rings through the air. You both let out a dramatic sigh before Ruggie ran off to break up whatever fight had broken out.

Still, while you were grateful Ruggie told you instead of finding out in some explosive or embarrassing manner, you were still unsure. You were special to Leona but was he special to you in the same way?

Ruggie on the hand was thoroughly amused when he glanced back at you, panic and worry expressed through a furrowed brow and lips pressed into a thin line. Leona’s newest weakness and you didn’t even know it yet. He’d definitely tuck away that piece of information away for safekeeping.

B) Go outside for some fresh air

Taking a walk outside was nice, but you found yourself simply pacing outside rather than inside. You lay down a patch of grass while staring at the swirling clouds.

“Okay, let’s think about this logically,” you told the fluffy cloud, “Leona got upset when I brought up siblings. Maybe he hates his siblings? That could be why got mad. Or! He’s super close to his siblings, and he doesn’t like people saying he’s like an older brother when he’s not close to them.”

You groaned and placed an arm over your eyes to shield them from the sun. The cloud made no judgements but offered no advice. “Maybe he thought it was an insult or something? Like he’s not independent? Or that he’s obliged to help me out?”

“Is he really that petty?” you asked the sky, “Leona never gets upset over stuff like this! I didn’t interrupt his nap, I didn’t go to some forbidden area, and I definitely didn’t’ break a rule! There’s no way there’s a rule about compliments. I even went to get him that stupid snack!”

“Not the smartest one, huh?” a dreadfully familiar voice asked as bright green eyes peered down at you and obscured your view of the sky. You let out a shriek when you realized Leona was right above you. He cocked an eyebrow up as an amused grin grew on his face. You immediately stood up and put space between the two of you.

“What? I! You! I just, I mean,” you could barely form a sentence as your mind raced to comprehend the situation. How long had Leona been there? There was no way he heard everything, right?  What was Leona even doing here? Leona never napped around here, his favourite place to nap was his room or under a tall tree at the outskirts of the Savanaclaw dorm.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased. It was so unfair that you were a sputtering mess caught by surprise and Leona was so collected with confidence radiating off him.

“No!” you insisted, “It’s just, well, you.” You clenched your fist as you tried to gather the courage to ask Leona what was really on your mind.

“Me?” he repeated. His smirk remained on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yes, you!” Leona had definitely heard everything you had said, you might as well let it all out. You took in a deep breath, but you could feel your frustration bubbling. Why was he acting so relaxed like nothing had happened?

“I don’t know why you were upset before. And you were upset! You always say yes to naps, but that day you said no, so I, I mean I’m pretty sure,” you wanted to smack your forehead, god why as it so hard to articulate your feelings? You pressed on, “I just don’t want you to be mad. I like being close. I like being friends.”

Your face was basically on fire at this point, redder than the sun ever made it. The palpable silence made your beating heart sound even louder in your ears. Your eyes were glued to the ground. Was Leona on the verge of laughing? Maybe he’d make fun of you for worrying so much over nothing. Call you a skittish prey and move on.

“Friends,” he repeated, voice laced with disdain.

“Wh, why? Aren’t we at least friends?” you rebutted but your voice wavered. Here it was, he was going to tell you that you weren’t even friends, that you were some delusional loser, and he was just being nice because that’s what dorm leaders do.

“Tch, I suppose it’s too much for an herbivore like you to understand,” he remarked. Your eyes shot up until they met his, confusion swirling in yours while annoyance painted his.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked. The damage had already been done; you might as well get an answer from it.

“I don’t need more siblings or friends.”

Oh.

Oh.

“What?” you yelped, “You like me?” The thought hadn’t even entered your brain, not once, but suddenly it was the reality before you.

He huffed and then asked, “Why, do you need to go talk to a tree to sort through your feelings?”

“No!” you immediately snapped, “I mean, well, not a tree, but I really didn’t see this coming. Can, can you give me a bit of time?”

“You want me to wait?” he asked incredulously.

“I know you’ve probably waited already for, wow, probably for a while, but please I need this,” you pleaded. You heard a scoff, so you added, “Otherwise, it’s not fair! You got to know for so long, but I just found out!”

“Life’s not fair.” His lazy smile didn’t quite reach his piercing green eyes. You gulped. This was not how you were hoping for this debacle to progress.

“Now?” you asked tentatively.

“I’ve waited long enough for you little herbivore,” he insisted. Your heart raced. Did you know? Maybe. Maybe not. Leona took a step forward and invaded your personal space. You felt strangely like a prey about to be caught by its predator. Seconds passed and you didn’t have many left.

This time, instead of clouds or pillows or trees, you asked yourself. Did you like Leona?

[randomnameless]

I don't know if this has been asked before, but I was wondering what your thoughts on Rhea are.

Oh, I don't think someone asked it, but I remember a character meme.

Rhea's in the Julia tier : you're expecting things and the game doesn't give you any.

you asked for thoughts so this is long and rather unorganised even if i tried a bit and i feel like i repeated myself a lot so meh

If Edel and Rhea have one thing in common, it's being shafted by the need to make Billy the most special being every with the monstrous "I was lonely before you player-chan uwu".

Seteth'n'Flayn ? In the same trashcan Hubert went in.

Catherine, Shamir, the randoms living in the monastery? Dgaf but still she's willing to die for them so does she really gaf or not? Rhea's willing to give her blood and crest stone shards (to this day I still don't understand what those are) to trusted randoms who would become cardinals? "uwu player-chan". I know I've written a bit about it with the seirelm anon, but with the Canon-ish info? Post Zanado Rhea told a random dude she could turn in a dragon, gave her blood to the same dude and remained in his empire/fighting by his side for at least 30 years. Still “lonely without U Billy <3″

I've written this in the meme entry, but Rhea has her own net of relationships. They're not as important as Dimitri and his childhood friends, but erasing them for the sake of "player-chan" feels wrong.

Role and goals

Rhea's in an interesting place, being a former "legendary hero" like Athos, Sephiran etc.

Still her fight isn't over, she only defeated Nemesis and couldn't end the mastermind behind (a bit like Seliph if you only kill Arvis or Roy when you forget to pick up every legendary weapon). Also, if Seiros killed Nemesis, she hasn't won. In the current Fodlan, she still has to pretend to be a human, the Nabateans as a culture/population are dead. They're still 5 (ish? I think the apostles are lizards), she's still afraid humans will dice them if they learn the truth. Has she won? Idk. Could she win and make a Fodlan were lizards and humans could live together? I don't think so.

Her role as the Archbishop? Well, the game really liked Rhea as a red herring during white clouds and the way FE16 is built, around the monastery, reinforces it. Rhea's the head of the monastery, so she's the head of your world. Everything wrong with the world is automatically linked to Rhea.

So, when Marianne complains about people wanting to kill/ostracise her because of her crest, thinking it's a curse, we of course wonder "why Rhea can't tell to the randoms that no Marianne shouldn't be killed/shunned because of her crest?". Completely forgetting that, hey, Marianne's from the Alliance and heiress of Edmund, so if some people should intervene, it should be her dad "why the fuck are you trying to kill my daughter" or the Alliance council "Duke Riegan, could you please make a public statement about my daughter and how she isn't some sort of demonic beast so stop throwing rocks at her?".

Same thing with the Empire, why should you blame the church and the crests instead of the people doing shit? Hanneman's brother in law? Like is marriage so absolute that a husband can force multiple pregnancies on his wife to the point of literally killing her? The von Essar aren't as important as the Bergliez, but Hanneman's sister dying like that should have rang some bells? Hanneman's dad didn't care? No one wanted to appeal to the Emperor or something? If Jane the random or Karen the peasant died this way, it’d be usual class nonsense. But a noble woman??

Rhea should have done more to prevent crest abuse. She wrote tenets in her Bible and apparently doesn't discriminate in her monastery. But in the other countries? Idk. Her tenets are interpreted like your shopping list by Gloucester Sr "and add a part where interacting with foreigners goes against Seiros's teachings what yes I know better than those dunces from the eastern/central church".

It's not because Riegan Sr and Ionius aren't doing shit that she should do nothing too, but ultimately it falls on the usual landmine about Rhea's influence and power over Fodlan and if we consider Fodlan isn't just the Monastery we see but a continent made up of 4 autonomous states...

The so-called status quo isn't upheld by the church alone (if it is upheld in the first place!), but also by the empire and the Alliance... Lambert was toasted before making any changes, the Alliance is that weird thing where money is anything and crests/old nobility doesn't matter anymore, and the Empire is... Well. The Empire.

Regarding this, I find it really strange that Rhea went to Goneril and rescued one of their slaves, with how much she cares about protecting her monastery and not antagonising anyone, picking Cyril up, risking the ire of house Goneril, feels really risky from her perspective.

Imo WC doesn't sell me the "church rules over the continent" take.

Ultimately it doesn't matter because Rhea thinks she should have done more, and abused her position as the archbishop to rez her mom - I understand the "abused her position" as regretting her various omissions, like helping more people around etc etc.

I also feel like Rhea’s got a big survivor complex, and tries to fulfill impossible tasks. "leading/guiding the world?" she won't take an active role in it, but still resents the state of current Fodlan and wishes Sothis could restore some order (crest abuse? Or relics popping up right and left meaning more sibs dying). She wants to :

1/ guide the world and make it a better place (why complaining about the wayward Fodlan otherwise?)

2/ protect randoms who live under her protection

3/ make sure no one learns the truth about her appearance and relics at the same time.

I don't think it's possible given her current role and especially not possible on her own.

About 3/, call back to FE9 or not, but Rhea's paranoia is... Actually, not proven to be exaggerated in the game.

Ranulf was lynched in Crimea when he was discovered to be a laguz? In a certain route, Rhea's called a cruel beast due to her appearance, accused of not having "human" feelings and is depicted as a creature masquerading as a human. Hate and attack the woman all you want for things she did or might have done, but getting rid of her because she's not human? Rhea's right about not revealing her true nature, because, relics notwithstanding, humans will try to kill her for being a nabatean. Relic wise, in the DLC, we learn Aubin was recently turned in a relic, so that's even more reason to hide.

On 1/, wanting to promote peace in the land? National bias at play with rewriting history “to promote peace” issue. Rhea also built the officer's academy (if nobles from different states can live and study together surely they won't try to kill each other when they return home because they might have become friends?) and with help from the everyone in Fodlan (even the empire iirc?) built the locket to fend off Almyrian invasions. Not saying this is the best way to protect your borders but at least she tried to help instead of staying holed in her monastery.

Imo if Rhea didn't care about Fodlan, she'd have followed her bros and fortified herself in her monastery without accepting random humans to live with her, wouldn't have written a book about how everyone had to get along "unless it goes against the goddess" and wouldn't basically run what seems to be the biggest orphanage/place for the needy/and whatever is the abyss in the continent.

Not saying she doesn't have a priority, but Rhea tries to care, on her scale, about Fodlan's randoms.

About said randoms (and 2/)...

Well there's this bout with Lonato's rebellion and another herring where Rhea's all "I will destroy anyone who takes arms against the church and its believers" and it's extreme, I can’t deny. But if Lonato took arms and mounted a militia to attack Ositia's castle and its randoms? Hector'd have Armads'd Lonato without a second thought. Elincia had qualms about taking her weapons against her own countrymen who were used by Ludveck, but in the end, she took up her weapons to defend her castle, even if it meant she had to kill militiamen. Rhea's line seemed random and cold in the context, but it's the same general idea, attack her people and she will kill you. Still, if you don't take weapons against her, she won't react violently. Duke Gerth is apparently dick waving with Aubin's relic, but Shamir wasn't sent to recover the thing or to get rid of Gerth.

Ultimately Rhea blows her cover and abandons her dream to reunite with her mother to protect the monastery and its inhabitants in 3 routes (arguably in CF too). Someone once made a post about the differences between Seiros's and Edel's crowns and the symbolism of wings - the IO's wings are meant to protect. The IO is the guardian/protector. Rhea tanks missiles and buys time for the students to escape at the cost of her life.

Relationships

Rhea and Sothis? someone made a post summarizing my thoughts about their relationship, or lack of, and if we can argue Sothis was shafted by the devs like Rhea and Edel, ultimately the only important person to Sothis is Billy.

Billy doesn't warp Sothis's preexisting net of relationships, Sothis doesn't have relationships with anyone save for Billy. Rhea wants to meet her mom more than anything else (save for protecting randoms) but Sothis will never address that plot point. She only does in SS and off screen, and it ends up with Rhea wondering if she should live... so take it as you want, but to me it mustn't have been the "hug and pat on the head" kind of reunion.

Ultimately we see Rhea is able to let go of her dream (rez mom) in several routes, she understands and acknowledges Sothis will never return and Billy has her powers now, so either she dies more or less at peace knowing she can trust Billy with Fodlan's future, or she can return to Zanado and live peacefully with Catherine.

Which leads me to the Billy relationship,

As much as I hate player pandering, it makes some sense that Rhea would support Billy and not, let's say, Caspar. I still hate it though because Billy exclusive support means we were robbed of Rhea's other supports with, idk, her fam, Cyril, Catherine, Shamir, Alois, Hanneman, Manu etc etc.

In the beginning of WC, Rhea's pretty sure Billy's Sothis but without memories. Then in the non-cf chapter 12, she tells Billy they know what they are and thus must guide Fodlan, also telling Seteth Billy's a vector for sothis's powers, but not Sothis herself. In SS's finale she calls them "mother" but in her S-support finally acknowledges Billy's their own thing.

In CF Rhea's vicious in her trash talk but immediately jumps to the conclusion that Billy cannot be or hear Sothis, because, to her, logically, Sothis wouldn't side with Edel and her Agarthian allies (stealing the crest stones, Flayn, etc etc). Billy is something that stole Sothis's crest stone and sword and wants to finish what Nemesis started. I don't think CF Rhea snaps because Billy isn't Sothis, CF Rhea snaps because, again, someone is using her mother to kill her.

Rhea's also supposed to have been fond of Citrus to the point of talking to her remains (something she does with her mom) which could explain her sympathy for Billy regardless of the Sothis project.

Jeralt's a different issue, apparently they worked together for more than 100 years but Rhea never told him the truth about her nature, only about how he was saved. Still, Jeralt betrays when his baby is "weird" and unlike regular human babies so... Would he have ran away if he learnt what rhea was? Dumped Citrus if he knew she was an artificial being? Idk.

Catherine Shamir cyril and pals (Alois)? We don't know bcs the game dgaf about anyone not named Billy. As I said above, It’d have been nice to get more interactions with randoms she is working with, or at least showed some care, but nope. “Player-chan uwu” strikes again.

Seteth'n'Flayn? Rhea's close to them, she gets out of her room to look for Flayn and Cyril and Catherine note how she seems close to Seteth (who's totally her bro), but again, the game hates us. FFS don't think she has a line with Flayn!

Secrets and explosions

Tied to 3/ and 1/ from earlier, Rhea keeps a lot of secrets which could justify her lack of relationships/supports with the others... but this argument falls flat, because she’s not the only one with a secret and if Flayn doesn’t seem to care that much about hers, Seteth does and is still able to support students and staff members. Which leads to tragedies.

The Christophe incident is not well documented, and while we learn Rhea was the target of Christophe’s attempt because Western peeps told him so, it is not very well explained why she didn’t execute him on those grounds instead of falsifying charges about involvement with the Regicide. We are told it was to stabilise the Kingdom, but I still don’t know how the Kingdom would have suffered backlash if Rhea told the truth (maybe it would have led to open conflict between the western church and the central church in the kingdom, when the kingdom needed stability at that point? idk).

Still, Lonato wants revenge for Christophe, not because he was executed on false charges, but because he died ; imo, if Lonato learnt the truth, he’d still be out for Catherine and Rhea’s head.

Aelfie’s gambit is more of a direct result of Rhea’s secrecy, because she had “no words” for him about why Citrus was still in pristine condition, he gave up and tried to rez her. Would it had been different if she told him what Citrus was (and by extent, what she was)? Idk. Maybe, maybe not.

Still, Rhea doesn’t keep secrets from everyone every time - she once trusted Willy and told him about her alternate form and it exploded 1k years later, when Willy’s descendants are out for her head because she’s a creature masquerading as a human (I know mole people also played a part, but I guess it sticked more with Edel and the gang who already knew Rhea was a dragon ; trying to convince a random that “hey, this woman is a dragon !” would be more difficult). CF-wise again, Rhea trusts Billy with the SoC and, again, it explodes. In CF Rhea feels betrayed, she trusted some people and now the very same people (or their descendant in Edel’s case) are trying to kill her.

So it’s not a case of someone never trusting anyone, it’s someone trusting some people and regretting it afterwards (in both routes + CF at least, even if I firmly believe the “evil lizards ruling over the world” spiel doesn’t come from Willy, but from later emperors influenced by mole people).

There can also be a point made for Aelfie, who might have been able to merge with Citrus to create an umbral beast because he had Rhea’s blood and a crest stone shard - Citrus being a fake Nabatean and Aelfie having a crest stone + blood might have produced CS’s final boss? Rhea trusted Aelfie with a crest stone shard and her blood, and he became an umbral beast.

Interestingly, Rhea is hell bent on keeping her secrets regarding her identity, in SS Seteth has to beg her to reveal everything to Billy when Billy is the most important person in the world “uwu” or at least, the only person Rhea supposedly opened to. Even the “uwu” factor isn’t enough, on its own, to make her reveal the truth about her identity.

She gives Claude half-truths, and has to be on death’s door to tell him everything - still occulting Seteth’n’Flayn, to the point where Claude later wonders if there are other children of the goddess around.

Vengeful Rhea?

Rhea isn't a stale piece of bread like Julia. She says mean words to Nemesis but also brutally kills him. Rhea cannot forgive the Elites. I know it's very different, but Julia "dad is the kindest man I ever knew" making a 180° “i must atone for what dad did eff him” will always make me throw up - she doesn’t have to be vengeful or try to stab Seliph with a butter knife, but no acknowledgement of “dad’s the bestest” after his death, or even, of his death is meh.

To Rhea, Nemesis and the Elites are a trigger point, and everything related to Zanado. CF!Billy using her mom’s powers is like Nemesis, CF!Billy + Edel pillaging what remains of her siblings in Nemesis’n’Dudes. Flamey doing his shit with Flayn also parallels that. There’s the usual “vengeance sucks” speech to be given, but also the Tellius verse where Laguz aren’t depicted in a bad light when they want to destroy Izuka or when Tibarn learns Lekain was responsible for Serenes’s massacre.

Still, unlike Tibarn’n’pals, Rhea, unlike Macuil, doesn't seem to hold a grudge against descendants of the Elites. Maybe she had faith in them when she told them not to abuse the power of their crests, but then their descendants forgot or didn’t care and we’re in the so-called crest system.

In SS, Seteth asks the BE students if they want to return home to the Empire and how he won’t hold it against them. Seteth’s being Rhea’s right hand bro in this situation, I doubt he’d have proposed this solution without her approval.

She is vengeful and ready to pursue for more 90 years someone to kill them, but she won’t target that someone’s descendants or potential allies. I’ve read some takes about the Western Church being razed to the ground after Catherine’s paralogue, but iirc, Rhea’s only going to execute the Bishop there ; they appoint a new bishop in hopes to ease the relationships between the central and western church. There’d be no point to appoint someone to rule over a body that doesn’t exist...

Grey waves

Wave 1 : Another parallel with Edel is the will to sink in troubled waters to reach their goals.

However, Rhea stays on the surface.

Aelfie thinks Seiros failed to rez Sothis with the chalice because she didn't take more blood from the apostles. Blood rituals are creepy and gave an umbral beast. Seiros didn't pursue and sought another mean to rez Sothis without killing her bros. Rhea makes homunculi to host Sothis's soul? It fails but the homunculi isn't destroyed asap to make another one, hell, Rhea cares about them (which is all kinds of fucked up on its own).

AM wise, iirc, Seteth and Catherine say Rhea'd never forgive them if they run to save her instead of saving randoms first.

Still, making homunculus to create a vessel for her mom - making artificial lives - is problematic, she’s ashamed of it “i did questionable things” and Seteth berates her on her “questionable” experiments.

CF!Rhea eats babies during the final map. She burns the city to make her last stronghold and refuses to run away. CF!Rhea, at the end of this route, completely abandoned goal 1 2 and 3. She wants to survive, yes, but to recover Sothis, no matter how. She still seems to care about humanity, but takes everything too literally and is persuaded humanity and humans are after her to hurt her and her mother (i’m pretty sure uncle Arry was waiting with his Agarthan tech suitcase for Edel to deal with the beast in the background). Contrary to CF’s chapter 12, Endgame!Rhea doesn’t have lines when Catherine and Cyril fall. She’s still siding with humans, but she’s in this for herself now.

Of course, CF!Rhea is special, because CF!Rhea lives again through her trauma, CF!Rhea lost her home, her bro and niece a few chapters ago, she lost her human allies, apparently some peons from her church are deserting and Uncle is waiting with his portable electric saw to turn her in a shiny sword, because she trusted a corpse with Sothis’s heart and spine and trusted a human 1000 years ago with her secret. And now said corpse follows someone who rings at her door with an army, wishes to obliterate her unless she surrenders (?) and works with Uncle and his dubstep pals.

In the other routes, Billy doesn’t want to killer her with her mother’s spine and tries to defend her home, Seteth’n’Flayn aren’t forced into exile or dead and depending on the route she gets to see Uncle and his dubstep friends being buried under rubble.

Troubled waters to reach her goals also include slowing Fodlan’s technological advancements (but was it really slowing down Fodlan’s R&D’s department or cliking “no” when Mole People offer a free (for now) new technology that makes you advance from bronze age to the industrial era in one go?)

Wave 2 : Rhea’s anchored in the past, she wants to return to happier days with her mom and her family, but also wants to help randoms in Fodlan

She doesn’t seem to mind the present where humans do whatever they want, and yet will protect her people and tries (or tried since it’s history) to keep Fodlan safe.

I think the game wanted to tell us Rhea’s stuck in the past, but she also manages to form bonds (albeit fickle) in the present with Catherine, Shamir and, arguably, Cyril. Seteth’n’Flayn accept the past and try to move forward, Rhea cannot and yet is making baby steps forward, or at least to live in the present. “uwu factor” is supposed to mean Rhea’s stuck in the past and can only see Billy for what they are once she accepts to live in the present, but Rhea’s already fond of Catherine, calls Aelfie her child, was fond of Citrus and Jeralt, makes time for Cyril, etc etc. It’s not as clear cut as drinking tea with them but it’s still something that quashes the “lonely B4 U player-chan uwu”.

Rhea thinks her biggest grey wave is how she didn’t do enough for Fodlan and feels inadequate to walk in Sothis’s shoes as the guardian/protector of Fodlan - she could have done more, but she’s busy juggling with three goals, rez mom, protect fodlan, protect the fam.

I think one of her main issue (but the game was also made this way so) is to try to reach those goals alone, save for the “rez mom” goal, everyone in Fodlan, especially the heads of the three states should be concerned with keeping peace in the continent!

Lambert was BBQ’s, Riegan’s busy shitting on Gloucester and Ionius is... well, Ionius. Add to that Mole People starting up shit all around the continent and you have the recipe for a disaster. I’m not saying Lambert and Ionius should have participated to the “protect her family” goal, but at least not trying to eradicate them to turn them in relics would have been nice, sadly Ionius’s bro in law was an Agarthan.

Even if she is nearly immortal compared to a human, Rhea can’t do everything on her own. That’s why I ultimately think a SS ending is doomed to fail, Billy will try to be Rhea 2.0. and in 1000 years it will fall apart again.

AM ending? Billy will become like Rhea was post War of Heroes, but when Dimitri’s descendants start to do shit, his Kingdom disappears and humans start to return to their usual shitty selves, what will Billy do?

VW ending is kind of the same, Claude wants to open the borders and make everyone able to live regardless of their differences, but what if 940 years later an Almyrian president decides to build a wall between Fodlan and Almyra and make Fodlaneses pay for it? What is immortal Billy, who knew Claude and his ideals, going to do?

Wave 3 (lol i nearly forgot but remembered when i was rambling in the tags) : Rhea and technology !

The DLC book and Word of God said she slowed advance of technology in Fodlan to protect peace etc etc. But there’s a book where a cardinal said “eff to autopsies else people won’t rely on us with faith magic” which is... kind of weird. There’s a reason why Rhea might have approved that ban (Why does Freikugel look like a hip bone?) but it still deprived Fodlan’s randoms from the scientifical advance of autopsies... and made people reliant on faith magic.

Actually, the book goes

“Though it is widely believed that this is medically relevant, such actions upon a corpse are considered desecration of the dead. Since white magic can be used to a similar end, autopsies were deemed taboo. A notable cardinal asserted that if medical science were to excel over faith-based white magic, it would destabilize the foundation of the church “

I already pointed out the WTF between faith and white magic (Seteth doesn’t believe his mom is real so he has no faith boon) but interesting to note “desecrating the dead” is still something of an argument nowadays, not regarding autopsies but other practices like anatomical theaters etc etc. Maybe White Magic isn’t intrusive and yields the same results? idk.

Interesting to note, it’s a cardinal who edicted/justified that ban (Rhea as the head of the Church would have given her approval oc). As pointed out with the Freikugel example, Rhea’d have a personal interest in preventing humans to know more about anatomy (goal 3/). Would people stop looking to the church to be healed if “medical science” progresses too much? Maybe. From what we see in the curren Fodlan, it doesn’t.

Also, French version translated the “foundation of the church” as “stability” of the church - would the church become unstable or challenged if people could heal without using white magic? Again, we ultimately know that it doesn’t, magical science and medical science coexist, Manuela gives a short summary of the two - they have different effects.

As for things Rhea herself banned : Telescopes, Oil exploitation and Printed Press.

Telescopes were banned because Rhea thought it would increase violence during wartimes and would make it too easy to snipe from afar (TFW mages with bolting can do the same without telescopes, but they’re limited by their range and if they have a gloucester’s crest by Rhea’s sister’s femur’s range or whatever is Thyrsus). We know the mole people use (and most likely used before during the Sothis war) this technology. The “lessening the mystery of the goddess” thing is noted by Edel herself who wonders if the Goddess could really have come from space since it’s super far away. Edel doesn’t know the Goddess is an alien dragon-thing though.

Oil exploitation : “Misuse could result in accidental death” tfw random Faerghus countryman thought it was water and died :’(

Used tactically by those lacking magical abilities - like gambits? Was Rhea thinking that a random human cannot set fire to an entire city (lol) on his own with his limited spell pool/uses, but if he uses oil then he would only be limited by the quatity of oil? So it’d be easier to cause mass fires? Or whatever Robin did in FE13 with the ships and the Valmese army? Also, if Rhea thought oil could replace humans with magic, does it mean humans with magic were supposed to do everything oil can do? Like making a lamp or they still used something else as fuel? “Competition for it could cause strife” Rhea acknowledged that if humans discovered this ressource they’d deem it as essential and try to get their hands on it, even if they had to wage war?

Metal molding Printing Machine : “after careful consideration” Rhea banned it because it’d be useless for illiterate randoms - well yes, but why should this be an argument? You don’t ban something because it’s useless, look, no one banned airpods - risk of mass circulation of false information or rumors : rhea wanted to prevent redshit from existing This is a way to control information, but funnily enough in the game, we see the results or someone deliberately using manifestos spreading misinformation - risk of “increasing disparity between church branches” (fr version has “rivalry” instead of disparity) what does it mean? The central church would have more means to print books than the eastern church so the eastern church would be jealous? Or the Western Church could mass print its doctrine and have more zealots than the central or the easter church?

Ultimately, all those bans were lifted with time, Manuela performs Jeralt’s autopsy, Edel’s imperial science division managed to guess the distance between the Blue sea star and Fodlan, Oil is apparently used in several gambits, Edel’s able to send manifestos around the continent and Seteth can write children books and sell them without difficulties. Hilda can also lose books which would be a big no-no even if you are a noble if books weren’t, kind of, mass printed.

So why those bans? To protect Fodlan and the fam, but since they were lifted with time, I don’t think Rhea abandonned her goals, most likely, she thought humans were making small steps to discover those technologies, slowly learning about them so they won’t have them when they’re not “ready enough” to use them.

The “ready enough” thing sounds paternalistic or what can be expected from a more technologically advanced alien, but technically Rhea’s part alien and she lived through (or not?) an episode where humans received technology and did shit with it (mole people) so maybe she won’t hand them the car with the keys this time, and instead let them figure out how to build the car.

Still, this is HC because, as usual, the game doesn’t let us talk or question Rhea about those things, so we can only infer, read between the lines or between pixels.

****

TBH, I didn’t care a lot about her when I played, but when she had to eat babies in CF I grew more interested. Other bloggers already pointed it out, but Rhea’s a Tiki, but also a “traditional FE lord” in the sense she avenged her mom who was killed by the king of another kingdom, lived in exile and raised an army to fight against the King.

Still, Rhea didn’t end up as the leader of the world, or as the first Empress of United Fodlan, or something like that. She let Willy do his thing. Why? How? Why didn’t she became an integral part of the Empire, if she had been politically important, or a kind of seer/oracle, it would have been difficult for the Empire to go against her!

But nope, Rhea figged away in her mountains to rez her mom, sprout some “doctrine” (she could have done the same as an Emperor/Seer/Oracle) and watched over randoms who made up her “church”. She sometimes tries to intervene in Fodlan’s best interests, but it failed. Because Rhea doesn’t want to rule. She feels like she has to be a guide, but when humans don’t follow her? Well, what can she do? FE16 doesn’t show us Rhea sending her knights against the Empire when the Empire kicked out her Church and basically said “fig” to her face. FE16 doesn’t show us Rhea being angry and punching Gloucester in the face because he doesn’t show “real piety” and sprouts doctrine out of his rear.

Still, when she has to take a more hands-on approach and cannot be a distant figure/guide, she complains about maintaining a certain image as the Archbishop and how she cannot socialise with students or even walk around without Seteth randoms guarding her. She feels her mother would do a better job and tries to act as a proxy. Imo, Rhea’s bound by duty to her mom, to her sibs dead and living, and to Fodlan. She doesn’t reject her role, she accepts it, she doesn’t like it yes, but if going Gandalf in non-CF chapter 12 shows, she will fulfill it.

What’s most saddening though, is how her duty is a self-imposed one. Rez her mom? She personally took the challenge, because she misses Sothis the most and feels ashamed of this feeling to the point of not telling Seteth about it (interesting enough, Indech seems to be aware Billy’s Sothis incarnation and didn’t jump to the “Billy must be one of Nemesis’s kids with the crest of flames” conclusion, as if he knew Sothis could “incarnate” one day, but was he thinking Sothis would incarnate on her own or Rhea would trigger it? Flayn also suspects a thing about Billy being related to them because of Rhea). Rhea personally thinks she has to lead/guide Fodlan and make it a better place, ignoring the heads of the 3 states who should also be concerned with this goal. Rhea will create a false history to protect her living siblings when Macuil and Indech won’t give a fuck and live in their bestial forms somewhere, and when Seteth hides, but made it clear his only wish is to protect Flayn and the apostles, if they were really lizards, disappeared in random villages.

FE16 isn’t interested by Rhea’s story though.

That’s why I’m desperately waiting for a War of Heroes DLC or prequel of BSFE or whatever because I don’t really care about Fodlan in 1180 and who can have a perfect tea time with Billy or not.

I’d like to know why Birdie and Indech figged away, why Rhea thought letting Willy control the entire continent when he knows she’s a dragon was a good idea, why the Apostles didn’t take part in the Nemesis fight, why Fodlan’s humans decided to side with Willy in his brand new Empire instead of staying with King Nemesis, did Sothis have a previous faithful and what happened when she disappeared, were the Nabateans tyrannical rulers over humans which made some with Nemesis’n’pals, what were they supposed to do when they left Zanado, etc, etc.

So just like Julia and the baijilions AU ideas I came up with, Rhea’s a fuel for AUs because her base game dgaf about her.

[tuliharja]

Oh, the otp asks are so interesting! Would you consider for HashiMito answering the following: 3, 9, 12, 21 and 24? I hope it's not too much, but with canonical, and so politically-involved couple those are super interesting.

Thank you so much from the ask @olliya!

Yes, I agree to you! OTP asks are always so interesting~. And I don’t mind at all, since HashiMito is one of my otps, so I was really happy to receive this ask from you! Not to mention the fact you picked very interesting ones. Thank you again from the ask. ^^

(The asks can be found from here.)

Alright, let’s put those shipping goggles on! *Cue for a very long post.*

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Hashirama would probably try to write sonata to Mito and once he would realize it’s much harder than it seems, he would end up asking Tobirama to help. With the help of Tobirama, Hashirama would make most brilliant sonata ever, but once he would present it to Mito…she would be left highly unimpressed.

 “Hashirama, did you perhaps ask help from Tobirama?” Mito questioned from her husband, before she sighed. There wasn’t any reason to ask that question when she already knew the answer, yet watching her husband turn into a spluttering mess brought her some sort of amusement. Deciding to be merciful, Mito gently cupped Hashirama’s cheeks, giving him kiss to his forehead. “Hashirama, you don’t have to make me sonatas, poets, or anything that would be too elaborate. As long as it becomes from your heart, I don’t mind even if your compliments would be extremely tacky.”

She watched how her husband slowly turned into a sobbing mess, gently brushing his hair as she merely allowed him to relax in her arms.

After that incident, Hashirama would gift Mito flowers. Being the expert, anything related to plants, he would know each and every flower and those meaning. He probably wouldn’t be best with actual words, but each bouquet would hail Mito’s beauty, kindness, power and how lucky he was when Mito did choose him.

Mito would had mastered the use of words, because she would know how valuable the talent of speaking would be. She could make even most praising comment sound like most wicked insult ever. That’s why, she would rarely compliment Hashirama as she knew her husband already received lots of compliments as he wasn’t any ordinary man. Repeating those same compliments would sound just hollow, empty and she didn’t want that. She would also know repeated words would turn meaningless, so she would rarely use endearing words about Hashirama.

To everybody else she would seem cold as ice, but in those rare moments when she would compliment Hashirama, he would take those into his heart and cherish those. Such occasions would be when Hashirama would manage to genuinely surprise her, show genuine understanding about her feelings and hopes, and take into consideration her wishes. But the most cherished moment would be when Mito would finally admit to Hashirama she was pregnant, while she was a Jinchuuriki. Hashirama would reassure her he wouldn’t leave her and make his best to ensure both she and the child would be safe. After she would calm down, she would spill her heart to Hashirama, telling how blessed she was to have such wonderful husband that would still stand next to her even when she was carrying Tailed-Beast. She would hail his strength, kindness, understanding and way too big heart. Later on, that night they both would compliment each other’s bodies in very sensual manner. ;)

 9. Have they made each other cry?

Yes, since what would marriage be without any tears? There have been happy tears, but also sad ones. Happier tears have been in happy occasions, such as when they got married, when their first child did bear and when Mito would tickle the hell out of Hashirama. Who said Mito couldn’t be mischievous when she would want to? They’ve also been crying tears of joy when they got their second born (because it’s kind of their own fault they got a child, now isn’t it? xD)

There has also been tears, when Hashirama has tried to cheer up Mito when she has had extremely bad day when dealing Nine Tails just to see her wife happy. But there has also been tears of sadness as at times Hashirama’s gambling problems would be too much for the stressed-out Mito. She would hide her tears, but Hashirama would know. He would eventually weed out his gambling problem, when they were at the risk of losing their home and the tear-streaked look Mito gave? Yeah, absolute broke Hashirama’s heart. There would also been tears when each of them would get so badly wounded, they would be at the brink of death. One of such was after Mito sealed Kyuubi inside of her. Hashirama was sure Mito would perish as it seemed holding down the beast was too much for her. Hashirama’s eventual death also made Mito cry as she felt like her whole world collapsed at that exact moment, but such is life: many different types of causes which can make one cry.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Many people think they would have, but in reality, they don’t have expect in minor businesses. The political field can be extremely messy, especially when considering the fact Hashirama was doing something (building first ninja village) that hadn’t ever been done before.

Before Mito married Hashirama, she understood right to way for things to work she had to do some groundbreaking thinking. She knew if she married Hashirama, she wouldn’t just switch her Uzumaki family to Senju family, like in old times. No, what Hashirama was offering was that, she could still be Uzumaki and Senju. In old times, when one was wed to some more powerful clan, you had automatically become part of that clan. You had to basically throw everything that you had been before, expect your ninja talents. While you could gain a new and possible better family, there was always that fear if your spouse would die. If your spouse would die, you would automatically become an outcast. Just fodder to be used in next fight against some other clan, unless you would marry someone else or become a concubine. The option to go back to your old home wasn’t anymore an option, since you had quite literally been kicked out from there. Of course, some bigger clans treated this possibility much ‘nicer’, but the fact was, your position would still be bad compared to anyone who had born in the clan.

Now this Hashirama was offering something else. A village where you wouldn’t be an outcast, should such a thing occur. Hashirama painted all pretty pictures how they all would be one ‘big happy family’. Of course, Mito knew such thing would take time. But the possibility was tempting and since Mito didn’t want to forget her roots even if she would marry someone, she agreed upon this. She even went so far as convince Uzumaki clan to make their own village, Uzushiogakure, as the Uzumaki clan wasn’t yet ready to be part of some other village. In that way, Mito could keep one leg in her home and one in her new one. It also served as a way to ensure she wouldn’t be treated poorly in her new home, since at times when one would be married to some other clan, the new clan could treat the new spouse extremely badly. Of course, she didn’t have to worry about that (given the fact Hashirama was Hokage).

As time went on, Mito started to see better Hashirama’s views. She liked quite many of those as if those all would become true, there wouldn’t be anymore war, everybody would be treated equally and the children would be taken care of by everybody, even if their parents would die. Of course, she disagreed upon some things her husband suggested, such as sharing Tailed-Beasts between each newly formed village, but to make things work she understood everybody should have equal power at the palm of their hand. She also disagreed when some clans that joined Konoha would get some privileges such as Hyuugas, but since they were newly formed village that was striving for something new, even she understood some sort of bait was needed to get them join them. Things like these made disagreements between her and Hashirama as at times she felt like Hashirama didn’t care or see wrongness that he tried so much to weed out. Times like those, she felt like the village mattered more to her husband than anything else… in those darker times, she would deliver some cold facts to her husband that would make him despair over some of his choices. In those times, Mito would see the man behind the God of Shinobi whom she would comfort as she knew for things to work, they had to stand united together or watch the world burn.

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

Hashirama believes his actions toward Madara did drive Mito to seal Nine Tails inside of her which basically did change her in more ways than anyone could had at first believed. While that was true, what Hashirama had hard time to grasp was the fact Mito did it willingly. Hashirama felt incredible guilt about that, because that event made Mito more prone to display her negative emotions. While that might sound like a good thing, because before that Mito tended to hide her negative emotions, it wasn’t at all fun and games when Nine Tails’ negative chakra was leaking out of Mito and she was trashing Hashirama around their house like a ragdoll. In those moments when Mito was very upset or angry, she reminded more a wild animal more than a person.

At first it was very hard, since Hashirama quickly learned Mito had tons of pent-up anger in her. His paperwork being late? Angry kyuubi-Mito. Him forgetting the dishes? Angry kyuubi-Mito. For a while it felt like there were two people inside of Mito, which was true. It took lots of patience, motivational talking and reassurance from Hashirama to make Mito understand not to hide her ire, no matter how small it would be. Eventually Hashirama managed to make Mito embrace her more ‘negative’ self that actually improved their relationship greatly. It also helped Hashirama to understand Mito better.

While Hashirama was already a stunning leader even before Konoha was founded, he was extremely poor what came to social skills. He could give motivational speeches to anyone, but if he had to make deals, small talk, simply listen or anything that would need any kind of ‘fine’ talk, he would more than often ask Tobirama’s help. Yet that behavior wouldn’t anymore cut when he become Hokage. He couldn’t anymore push Tobirama to deal with the stuffy, boring affairs and go train with their students. Which is where Mito stepped in. She put Hashirama through a mini hell to drive into his thick skull at least the bare minimum of social skills. It opened a whole new world to Hashirama. While before his overbearing personality had made some people feel uneasy and even that, he didn’t realize they might actually have brilliant ideas, he would now calm down and listen them. His relationship even with Tobirama did improve, because now he would listen his little brother giving him a speech of his latest invention, that actually made Hashirama understand Tobirama and him weren’t that different. They both were passionate people, yet because he barely before did stop to listen his brother’s ‘odd ideas’ he never knew.

While Mito’s social skills course did bring lot of good things out of Hashirama, it also brought his darker side. Hashirama could now use his ‘happy-go-lucky’ character at times as a façade to gather information and later on use it against Konoha’s enemies as most of his opponents only saw a fool front of them. But Mito teaching how to wear a mask in important meeting? Hashirama was eternally grateful to his wife about that.

 24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

When Mito married Hashirama she vowed to herself she would protect Hashirama, no matter what. But to do so, she had to do it while remaining hidden. She would protect Hashirama from the shadows, even going so far as kill someone if they threatened her husband. She would even create secret service, ANBU, just to protect her husband. They were an organization that worked in the shadows, that no-one knew, especially Hashirama. Expect, Hashirama did knew. He knew exactly what his wife was up to, yet he never addressed it as he waited Mito tell him about it. When years went by and Mito still didn’t tell him, Hashirama started to feel uneasy. He would drop intentionally questions or make scenarios that could make a perfect opportunity for Mito to tell about her role in ANBU and the organization itself. But she never did. It started to eat Hashirama in and out. While he knew Mito had her best intentions toward him, it still made Hashirama feel like unworthy of the truth. Didn’t Mito trust him? Did she think he was still that fool that she had met those years ago? Hashirama wanted to trust Mito, but he didn’t want to confront her. It wouldn’t had been same as if she would tell herself the truth.

To numb the pain Hashirama turned into drinking and gambling. With a good buzz he could make his doubts away as it would leave his core thoughts: that which were love. Gambling also brought a thrill to him that he hadn’t felt ever since he had become a Hokage. Maybe Mito wanted simply feel thrill? The adrenaline that would pump to his veins when he would bet everything to win or lose was just exhilarating. Though each time when he would lose and face upset Mito, he would feel a sting of guilt just to remember his wife’s secret. So, another night with gambling it was! Hashirama’s actions were slowly spiraling out of control and he only came into a rude awakening of reality when he faced tear-streaked Mito. She told him they were about to lose their house and everything, if he wouldn’t just stop. It was that moment the two realized they had to change, or they would lose them. Mito was stressed over the fact she tried to keep Hashirama safe, but it was harder than she had first believed, while Hashirama had tried to escape his problems with drinking and gambling. This event was one of those turning points with them as they slowly started to unravel those all. Eventually Mito told Hashirama the truth which lead into his own confession, making both of them to forgive each other and slowly strengthen once again their strained relationship. But even though they had managed to tackle this particular obstacle on their married path, there was still one big obstacle that had been slowly marinating.

While Mito understood in some level Hashirama’s deep friendship with Madara, at times it was extremely hard. In most situations like these, one would pick in a heartbeat their partner. But in Hashirama’s case, it wasn’t ever that simple. While Mito trusted Hashirama, it still made her at times doubt herself and her position as his wife. When she tried to talk about her doubts, most people would dismiss her and tell her how lucky she was. She was married to “God of Shinobi”, so why she was complaining? Wasn’t it beautiful her husband was friends with his childhood friend who had been Senjus mortal enemy? It made Mito hide her doubts and concerns as she all but turned eventually a blind eye her feelings. The worst part was that, Madara was actually nice toward her. But it all came crashing down when she sealed Kyuubi and she realized hiding her negative feelings wasn’t anymore that easy. Her all doubts came flying out of the box that had been hidden deep within her heart. She knew she had to learn to forgive her foolish husband his past ignorance and be more straightforward with Hashirama as Hashirama could be at times very dense. She eventually did forgive Hashirama when he showed her, she was extremely important to him and being friends with Madara didn’t take out or lessen his love toward her.

[megagingertron]

My @furubasecretsanta gift for @dutiifully!!

Title: Put a Little Love on Me

Pairings: Mayu x Shigure, One sided Mayu x Hatori, hinted Mayu x Hatori

Words: 5.5k

A/N: Timeline? What’s a timeline? This is somewhat canon compliant, but strays in some places. Basically a character study of Mayu and filling in the blanks the manga didn’t cover. Had to dig deep down to write about characters I don’t think about often and it was a great challenge that I really enjoyed!

I really hope you like it! :D

Title from Niall Horan’s Put a Little Love on Me

Mayu decides from the very beginning that she’s not going to put too much stock into someone like Shigure. She decides this as her eyes meet his and he cocks his head to the side, a slight bend to his waist as he bows. There’s a slant to his smile and a turn to his chin that displays a small portion of the underside. She grabs onto her will to not visibly sneer at the insincerity in his posture and snarky expression, one side of his hips higher with his hand placed on it. Kana had given Mayu what she can now see was a sugar coated, pillowed warning of Shigure’s nature, one that raised an eyebrow but didn’t think it was anything that would get the best of her.

It doesn’t take long for him to challenge that. She catches on quick enough to Shigure and how he speaks to others. He likes to stick in subtle pokes at people—a comment about their opinion or about their personality right in front of their face, but to some disguised enough to be overlooked. She calls him out on it, one of the few who doesn’t let Shigure get away with saying whatever he pleases, Hatori surprisingly complicit with his comments, and their other friend Ayame too much of a lover of chaos to stop it.

Even then, sometimes she is bitterly reminded of his lack of boundaries.

“Ah, Mayu-chan.” They sit outside of Kana’s house. It’s late in the evening, the slow stagnant heat of the day bleeding into a comfortable cool. They each have a lit cigarette in their mouth, the soft orange of the embers rising and falling with each inhale. “How do you feel about love?”

Mayu raises an eyebrow, the question fitting oddly between them.

“Love? Like between partners and family? Friends?” She asks.

“Sure,” Shigure says. “Anyway you want to view it.”

Mayu blinks down at the cigarette in her hands. As she’s beginning to find out, love is complicated in all its facets. Her mother’s dogmatic whining about needing to find a husband was out of love, for love, but her nerves could only take so much and the question loomed over her head. It was all too persistent when her mother asked for her help at the bookstore, which was often during the summer months. She endured it, though, believing helping her mother was more important than her comfort on the matter. Meeting Kana gave her another sense of love, feeling protective and affection for someone who she wanted the best for. She found a friend who she melded with on the same level. They had the same drive and looked for the fun and absurd where they could. She always figured one day they would meet a man, but it was never going to be a problem. Not like this anyway…

“Regardless, I think it can be powerful. It makes you the happiest you’ve ever been, like a high that doesn’t fade. But it can also make you the most miserable you’ve ever been, or the most jealous, the most mad. All of that stems from love, even it’s hurtful.”

“Astute observation, Mayu-chan.” Shigure looks pleased with himself for some reason. “I completely agree with you. Love does make you do foolish things for its sake. How about for yourself?”

“What about myself?” Mayu’s finger flicks at the burning cigarette in repeated motions. Talking about foolish feelings of love stirs a suppressed, more recent emotion that conflicted within her, thoughts acerbic as they rallied back and forth. The want to be selfish and the resulting guilt didn’t settle well and only served to polarize her already disquiet thoughts. Stuffing that feeling into nothingness had become habit, but she can’t say it’s benefited the level of love she has for herself. Not when looking at Kana and Hatori felt like a searing knife in her chest, her fantasies her only reprieve.

Shigure never responds, letting her sort through her thoughts, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil. She snubs out her cigarette in the ashtray placed between them. Shigure’s continues to hang off his lip, arms crossed comfortably as the silence stretched on. He breaks it.

“You should love yourself.” He injects. “What’s the point of any of this,” he gestures with arms, “if we can’t love ourselves. What a sad life.”

“That can’t be helped. Not everyone’s dealt the same cards.” Mayu says. She wishes she’d brought out her whole pack of cigarettes. “How someone views themselves is objective. Whether it’s based on life experience or you just think of yourself that way. It’s not always easy to pinpoint and sometimes you need someone else pointing things out for you.”

“So do you love yourself?”

“Yes, I do.”

She responds quickly enough even she believes her answer for a second. Shigure just ends up humming in response. “How is such a thoughtful woman such as yourself unable to find a man? Surely men ask you out.”

It’s not what she expects. The scoff Mayu releases resembles more of hack, turning to Shigure in incredulity.

“Mm what? I’m just saying. You have the brains, looks. Your frame is slight, but that can be overlooked.”

A rapid burst of heat rises to Mayu’s face, mortified and livid at the same time. “Yeah, because you have such a great personality yourself.” With a huff she stands from her sitting position on the engawa and steps towards the closed shoji.

“I never said I wanted a great personality,” Shigure says. It takes all of Mayu’s will power not to open and slam the shoji shut with all her might. Kana’s house doesn’t deserve her ire. Shigure certainly does, but his tactless comment had taken any words from her mouth without regret, leaving her running away from him. What a bastard. Talking and having an actual conversation had put Shigure in a more thoughtful light, one she wondered if he just hid away until he felt like revealing it, then promptly shattered the illusion by making some wayward dig at her body and single status. His rottenness could peel paint.

She walks into the kitchen where Kana and Hatori are bent over a cookbook, both with their sleeves rolled up and wearing aprons. It’s a cute sight to see them corresponding over how to make dinner, but there’s always a twinge of longing that comes with it.

Hatori sees her first, nodding his head in greeting. “Shigure still out there?”

Mayu tries not rolling her eyes, having for a single second forgotten about that guy and his unhinged mouth. “Oh, yeah.”

“Oh. Did he say something?” Hatori asks. Kana’s attention is on her now too, smiling and curious at the same time. Both of their eyes are on her, willing her to admit what they already know based on her response and the look on her face. But for a brief moment she forgets about Kana and focuses on Hatori and his attention on her. He never looks at her fully when Kana’s in the room, too blinded by his love for her. His attention leaves her warm and wanting, desperate for those veiled covered eyes see her as more than an accessory to Kana. She realizes she’s just staring and forces out a laugh.

“He just thinks he’s a funny guy. I don’t agree.”

Hatori momentarily looks regretful. “I apologize about him. He doesn’t know when to stop.”

“Don’t worry about it. You can’t control everything about him. He’s manageable.”

“I hope so. He won’t get away with upsetting you, not with me.” Kana says with the wave of a wooden spatula.

Mayu smiles. “Ah thanks. I know I can count on you.”

Ayame soon shows up, late to the time they set for everyone to arrive. Shigure comes through the kitchen walking and greeting everyone as if he hadn’t just embarrassed Mayu. Shigure and Kana follow Ayame to the main room, leaving Hatori and Mayu to themselves.

“Honestly, did he say anything to truly upset you?”

Mayu takes him in, wearing slacks and a button up with that stupid apron. It’s probably the most relaxed she’s seen him in the few months she’s gotten to know and understand him. His genuine concern is almost surprising to her, as if she already made up her mind what his reserved and quiet nature meant about him. Everything about him felt like a breath of fresh air, a calm that settled over her before she even knew what it meant. But now it’s become clearer to her in the last ten minutes just how deep she really is, and ignoring it doesn’t make her feel any better about herself.

She crosses her arms and sighs. “He just needs to be put in his place. As if I’d let someone like that think they have a one up on me.”

Hatori responds with an amused “ah”.

“I have to ask though.” She lowers her voice. “Why are friends with him? You know how he acts, you don’t seem to like it, yet you do everything with those two. Is there something you see that I don’t?” It’s harsh, she knows this and sees it in the dual raise of Hatori’s eyebrows. He contemplates the questions for a short moment before responding. He too crosses his arms then leans against the counter.

“I guess you could say circumstances, with our families being so close. And despite how he is with other people he doesn’t treat Ayame and myself the same way. I could try and keep him more in line but that doesn’t matter much to him.”

“Hm.” Mayu agrees. The conversation is over when Kana steps into the kitchen, apologizing for walking away when she’s supposed to be helping with dinner. The rest of the evening goes smoothly. What happened with Shigure isn’t forgotten, but she doesn’t let it interfere with the rest of the night, Shigure also tame and uncombative. Maybe it had to do with talking to Hatori one on one, having given herself just a slice of what it was like to be the full center of his attention. The guilt is more palpable now.

--

Summer turns into fall, which turns into winter. Finals have been a dreaded and all-consuming thought that almost drove Mayu to rip all her hair out. She only had a until spring of next year until she obtained her degree and could finally say it was all worth it. But she hadn’t reached that stage yet and standing in line for coffee was the only thing that kept her going in the time being.

She doesn’t care much for the winter months, not finding any redeeming qualities in the biting cold and shortened hours of light. It seemed no matter the time of day her energy drained before she could get started, the kotatsu more welcoming than any invitation out to eat. But classes called, coercing her out of bed and dressed in whatever she pulled from her laundry, hair sloppily pulled into a high pony-tail. She’s not the paragon of messy-cute, however that works, but it’s enough to ger her through the day.

“Mayu-chan, is that you?” She turns before she registers who said her name, but it’s too late and Shigure stands in front of her, his own cup of hot liquid held in a gloved hand.

“Oh. Shigure-” Mayu starts.

“Let’s wait ‘til you’ve ordered,” he says briskly then walks towards an empty table, mind made up with a wordless invite following him. If she weren’t in public she would’ve groaned her displeasure of running into him. She entertains him though and heads to his table once she has her drink, sitting down stiffly in her mild irritation.

“It’s been awhile Mayu-chan. Even Kana-chan says you’re not available lately.” Shigure starts conversing, sounding and acting like old friends. She pauses for a moment. She decides to answer honestly.

“I’m just trying to get through classes. With finals coming up I haven’t put much time towards anything other than studying. I feel like my head’s gonna burst.”

“Is that what the coffee’s for?” He nods towards her still hot coffee.

“It’s the only thing keeping me going some days.”

“That’s not healthy, you know.”

Mayu huffs. “If you can find any other alternative, I’m all ears.”

“Put down the books and go to bed. Nothing beats a good night’s sleep.” Shigure’s smile is too pure and aloof, unaware of the inexhaustible pressures of classes and thesis’ and the spiraling self-doubt that accompanied it all. She doesn’t know if he’s had any formal higher education, but the empathy is apparent.

“I can’t just not study.” She says.

“Of course you still study. But is it really worth it when you’ve ran yourself into the ground?” Mayu studies his face. She can’t decide if he has an angle with his sudden advice, or if he’s making a genuine attempt to help her improve her daily life. It’s not unlike Shigure to say whatever pleases himself at the expense of others, manipulating their feelings to get his desired reaction. She wouldn’t dare exclude herself from that list of people.

“I don’t know. I’m just trying to get through this anyway I can.” She ends up saying.

“Well, why don’t I act as a distraction, a way to get you to put down the books and relax for a bit,” he states as if he planned to use this line on her. Mayu’s laugh doesn’t have much humor in it, disbelief a more prominent tone.

“Like hang out as friends?” She says, almost mocking him.

“Go out with me.”

Mayu jerks in surprise, eyes wide at the left-side comment. “Like dating?”

“Like dating.” He doesn’t follow up right away, waiting a moment to gauge her reaction, she guesses. “I mean, with Kana and Hatori together, that makes him unavailable to you.”

She conceals her expression to not show her surprise at the statement. She doesn’t bother with a response either. If he already knows there’s no denying it, but that doesn’t make it any less humiliating to be called out like that. Shigure only continues to smile as he waits for her response to his novel idea, and she wants to wipe it off his face. But she looks him in his eyes. She doesn’t see Hatori in them. They’re two completely different people with contrasting personalities and different standards of life. One of them has a girlfriend who happens to be her best friend. The other is sitting with her at a café, listening to her school woes and even offering her advice. She wants to say the answer is obvious and that a cold stone “no” is going to be the first thing out of her mouth. Instead, it’s “sure”. She’s not confident in her response, but Shigure doesn’t seem to mind and only looks more pleased that she’s agreed to it. Mayu doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, but after Shigure and her part ways with a wave goodbye, she’s not sure if she’s making the right decision.

--

It’s easier being with Shigure than she expected. He doesn’t start arguments over benign disagreements, doesn’t demand her time and attention all day, and he’s, so far, pulled his punches where he used to run his mouth despite the backlash. Kana, Hatori, and Ayame are the only ones they’ve told so far, Shigure’s “Some times it’s more dangerous not to,” hanging over her head like some ominous foreboding. She doesn’t bother telling her mother, feeling only slightly guilty when she brings up the dreaded topic of marriage and Mayu acts as though her life hasn’t changed in the slightest. She even forgets she’s dating Shigure herself with his presence feeling more like a ghost, tethered but unreachable. Cold even. She doesn’t try and explain his actions away or make excuses for him, that’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to fall into, all they really do is show up for each other and make conversation. No spark, no keen interest in the other. Just two people being in the presence of each other to make up for another absence. At least, that’s why she agreed to this at all really, she tells herself.

Some days are lonelier than others, Shigure not a reliable presence when she feels she needs it most. Requests to see him are on his time, not hers, and she puts up with it, telling herself this never started out with intent, just a mutually beneficial relationship. She hasn’t worked out how just yet as she’s still unsure of what Shigure wants out if their time together. Helping with her studies was too weak of an excuse and not something that helped with her studies at all. When she’d asked once, he stated he had been bored. She thinks she should’ve been more offended by his patronizing words, but her intentions weren’t exactly honest herself, stress and desperation her own motivator. She goes back and forth in her mind if he has another lover on the side, undecided if he’s the kind of person to do that. She still doesn’t know.

One thing she finds herself being surprised about is his total lack of initiating any physical intimacy. A guy like Shigure she expected him to pull some suave moves on her to woo her into his bed, but any presumed opportunity that presented itself went untouched. She’s tried to rationalize to herself that he wasn’t attracted to smaller frames, his last comment on her body coming bitterly to mind.

Kana’s birthday is a catalyst for those feelings. It’s a weekend and Mayu expects herself to drink in celebration, not giving up alcohol entirely despite her long stint of sobriety for the sake of her grades. She made those mistakes early on.

It must be that the planets had aligned and aimed in their direction, giving Mayu the energy to laugh and sync up with everyone in the group. Shigure and Ayame tone down their usual antics with Hatori peeking out of his usually hard shell. Alcohol helps him loosen up, gradually becoming more flushed and vibrant as his speech opens the door to his other side. It’s endearing to Mayu, to see someone so outwardly impassive and not show any explicit emotion be reverted to a soul that doesn’t look burdened by their life, like he’s someone who actually sees the joy in what’s around them. Through it all, it spikes her adrenaline and forces a soft rouge to her face, making her more aware and susceptible to Shigure’s heat that’s next to her. He’s had enough to drink himself, being the sole reason any of them were this fucked up as he kept pulling bottle after bottle of sake out with no regard to limits.

Her, Shigure, and Ayame leave for the night, stumbling their way through town and to the metro, laughing at anything and everything. It’s as if she’s forgotten manners and everything her father and mother have dug into her head, the sound of her voice echoing off the walls and tunnels of the station far more entertaining than keeping quiet. Shigure and Ayame guffaw absurdly, causing her to join in without a care to the uneasy stares they receive.

They drop Ayame off with a theatrical goodbye between him and Shigure and walk back to her place with intent in mind, the heat only rising in her, forcing her legs into each step over the undulating sidewalk. Shigure keeps a steady pace beside her, neither straying nor meandering into her path. Her vision weaves and stutters, managing to old herself upright all the way up until she reaches her door. It takes a few stabs of her key for it slide into the bolt, clicking as it unlocked. She turns and holds Shigure’s gaze, hoping he can see what she’s presenting for him, the open door an encouraging invitation.

“Come in.”

Silence stretches as Shigure stands unmoving, hands in his pocket. Mayu can’t tell if the alcohol’s making it hard to process what she said or if he truly is standing there with no intention of coming inside, posture his rejection.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why’s it not a good idea?”

“We’ve drank quite a lot. It wouldn’t be right.”

“For who? You?” She snorts. Shigure doesn’t smile.

“Look,” Mayu feels the floor shift under her as if on a pendulum going back and forth. “I’m a grown woman, and if it’s my honor you’re so worried about—don’t. I don’t need to be treated or looked at like some delicate flower who can’t make her own decisions. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to.”

Shigure does smile at that. “I certainly don’t view you as a delicate flower. Delicate flowers don’t make drunken commands on their doorstep.”

“Then why?” Mayu doesn’t register his backhanded comment. “You don’t touch me. You don’t kiss me. I know you said you were bored, but how fucking bored are you?!” She doesn’t mean to spill it all at once. Insecurities of past combine with present, forcing her built-up thoughts out into the open. She’s brushed it off over and over, started making excuses and kept going about her day, but the clear dismissal hits her open and festering nerves. Sure, the alcohol is a boost, but her emotions are real, her thoughts are real, and the words that came out of her mouth are real. Shigure has the gull to look surprised at her outburst, as if she was going to continue staying silent on the subject, letting it slide like she has over the course of their time together.

Shigure’s head lulls up and to the side, revealing glassy and wandering eyes. “I think if that’s how you feel we—”

“No!”

Shigure startles.

“No! You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to be the one who does it. I’m doing it right now, we’re breaking up!”

All that’s heard are the distant cars driving on the street below them. Shigure’s eyes are still wide with his jaw unhinged, a look she’s going to revel in for the rest of her life. A shiver runs through him that brings him back to a more neutral expression.

“I was going to say I should go home and we can talk in the morning.”

Mayu shakes her head. Of course he was going to suggest that, of course he would make her feel like the irrational one. It doesn’t matter. Whatever was going on between them was nothing, and is nothing. In reality, he served no purpose to her, never went out of his way for her and never displayed any sort of romantic affection. Desperation may have driven her to this moment, but she realizes now the increasing disappointment she felt as time went on was only driving her to latch on to Shigure more, dreading having to acknowledge the parts of her that have been rejected.

She doesn’t fault Kana or Hatori for how things worked out between, she still cares for them deeply, but she can fault Shigure for suggesting this while she had her guard was down. Feeling inferior, turns out, allows people like him to seep into their cracks and nestle there, leaving no room for healing. She’s surer now than she’s felt before. She’s glad she’s drunk.

“I meant what I said. I’m done.”

Shigure just nods his head like he’s agreeing where to go for dinner. “Alright then. Have a good night, Mayu-chan.” He walks away. She doesn’t bother watching him go.

--

Besides the hangover the day after breaking up with Shigure, the days following are smooth and dreamlike, waking up without the doubt and increasing anxiety over a relationship that never cared about her. Kana’s called to see if she’s okay, trying to get out of Mayu why she bothered with him in the first place. Her response of “just wanted to try it out” is lackluster even if slightly true. But her switch has been flipped and it takes her being away from Shigure to see how much her desperation allowed her to wallow in her self-pity and make excuses for herself.

Mayu doesn’t see Shigure for some time, going to classes and seeing her parents, not bothering for half a second to look in the direction of another man. She’s sure at this point she would just bite his head off and feed his headless corpse into a garbage compactor. Maybe just Shigure’s.

All of that changes when Kana gets sick.

With cheekbones sunken in, pallor splashing across her face, eyes empty and cracked with red lines, Kana’s entire being looks worn out and rattled. The Sohma family head, Hatori’s eye, Kana’s guilt over what she couldn’t control has manifested itself through possession of Kana’s mind, bringing her to her knees and restricting her outlook. Mayu’s heart only breaks for her, sitting delicately by her side unsure of what else to say or do, all her words and actions preceding having no effect. She tells herself, and Kana, that it just takes time, although she thinks it more often than says it as a way to keep herself grounded every time Kana breaks into another bout of tears. Guilt starts to settle in when she starts excusing herself early, needing fresh air and distancing herself from everything. She can’t begin to understand what Kana’s going through, and she wouldn’t even scratch the surface to understand the Sohmas and how their family head is protected after doing what they did.

Mayu doesn’t see Hatori during any of this. It doesn’t feel appropriate to engage with him in any manner that would cause him upset in regard to Kana. He’s going through this as much as Kana is, and more.

Mayu continues checking on Kana, until one day she walks in and Kana is out of bed. She looks exhausted, the emotional turmoil having taken an obvious toll on her body, but she’s upright and moving about and then she smiles at Mayu. Mayu smiles back, catching a glimpse of the old Kana she’s known for so long now. Then Kana opens her mouth and everything she says, everything she emotes contradicts what she went thru. She talks about Hatori formally, like they didn’t spend the last several months spending every waking moment together. She’s stunned into silence, doesn’t comment on it or try and deny anything. It’s all too fresh and sending Kana back to how she was before would wipe all this progress away. Mayu’s unsure how she got here, considering maybe Kana blocked the memories out as a way to save her soul. Mayu leaves feeling confused and uncertain of this new approach Kana has taken. She’s not going to school to become a psychologist, but she knows this can’t be beneficial for her health, despite Kana’s sure smiles and optimism of returning to full health. Something’s not right.

“Mayu-chan.”

Mayu looks up to see Shigure standing only several meters in front of her. She hadn’t seen him as she walked out of the Sohma estate, her drunken break up proclamation the last time she saw him at all. She doesn’t get a sense of needing to feel proud and march by him with her head held high, too drawn in with clouded thoughts to care about any of that.

“Visiting Kana?” He asks.

Mayu swallows. “Yeah.”

“And?”

“She’s forgotten. Everything. Like it never happened, and Hatori-san was only her boss. I don’t get it…” She trials off, nearing despondent. It’s nearing the end of February and it’s still frigid and stale outside, breath appearing between them.

“Hmm. That is peculiar.” His expression betrays him through his words. It doesn’t seem at all peculiar to him. He tries to excuse himself and continue his way back to the Sohma estate but Mayu blocks his way.

“What do you know?” She demands.

Shigure doesn’t appear bothered. “I don’t know anything. People don’t normally just forget things. That’s why it’s odd.” He tries to move again; she continues blocking him. Now he’s starting to look irritated with a slight slant to his eyes.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get back to the main estate.” He says, terse.

“Not until you tell me what happened. You know.” Mayu stares him down, Shigure maintaining a strong front. It takes a moment until Shigure scans their surroundings then gestures for her to follow him. It surprises her that he caves, expecting him to ditch her without any answers, leaving her severely unsatisfied and frustrated. They had been by the entrance of the Sohma estate and watchfully step out into the open public.

Shigure looks more serious than she’s ever seen him. “Mayu-chan. Not everything can go as planned, or as wanted. There are some things meant to be kept as secrets, never for anyone else’s eyes. Sometimes those secrets get out and those involved are to never let those secrets be known. There’s a tradition within the Sohma where certain individuals are selected and trained in a type of hypnosis. It’s memory suppression, a way to put those secrets to the back of the mind. It’s never truly forgotten, but it’s harder to remember. After everything, Kana couldn’t handle having those memories and chose to have them suppressed. She no longer remembers Hatori as a partner, only as a colleague.” After he finishes, Mayu’s mouth flutters for something to say but nothing ever comes out, caught up in wrapping her mind around Kana choosing to forget everything, no longer wanting to live with those memories.

She gathers her composure and finds her voice. “Thanks.” She has no other words for what he’s told her, turning and walking away, her default mode switching on and taking her back to her place.

--

Mayu roots herself to her studies over the next couple of weeks, finals and graduation just around the corner, and simultaneously using it as a proper distraction from her meltdown not too long ago. What Shigure had said shook her more to her core than she could put into words. Two people who suffered from a tragic incident, and one chose to forget while the other was left with those memories and the knowledge that the other forgot. It makes her heart heavy in her chest, the burden of the fallout almost too much to bear as she looked back to Kana being sick, and then not. She didn’t mean to break down in front of Kana the way she did, curling into herself and being comforted by the person who indirectly pushed Mayu to that point. She’s not mad, never could she be mad, but putting distance between herself and the black hole that constantly threatens to pull her in helps ease her anxiety.

Mayu still hasn’t seen or spoken to Hatori. She misses him and his calming presence, his pleated pants and pristine button ups, his baritone voice that carries over her, lulling her right where she wants to be. It becomes increasingly clear to her that her only connection with Hatori was through Kana, the one median they had. She only ever got to know him as a friend, and as much as she dreamed about more, knew it was never meant to be that.

When she’s home and not occupied by anything she always manages to end up with him in her thoughts, wishing him well and hoping that he heals. It’s all she can do. Kana’s bounced back, finding another doctor’s office to work for and retelling happy memories that make them both smile. Kana will be fine, but Mayu will never know about Hatori and if he was able to find a light spot in all the darkness he had to go through. She wonders if it follows him the way it’s followed Mayu, where her mind projects images through her dreams, or she sees their forms from behind in strangers, causing her to shake her head and push the illusions away. She finds her emotional involvement lingers to the side, ready to strike where it fancies.

But time goes on and Kana’s there to celebrate with her at her graduation ceremony, diploma in hand parents pouring their praise for her. She thinks about it less as she gets situated with her job at Kaibara High, still seeing Kana a few times a month to catch up, only feeling a small sting when Kana mentions other men she’s interested in. She never mentions her conversation with Shigure to anyone, feeling it’s in everyone’s best interests to keep it to herself. The Sohma’s are an anomaly, her opinion only becoming exacerbated when she ends up with two of them in her class, reintroducing Shigure back into her life by association and bringing her experiences full circle.

It’s a hard pill to swallow acknowledging what happened in years passed while still maintaining a front of being put together and unbothered. There’s a small part of her that holds out for seeing Hatori at some point and seeing who he’s become since she knew his past self.

All it takes is one summer, and one glance, and it’s as if the years haven’t passed.

[vannahfanfics]

May I request A current in-character canon-compliant, soft, angsty, romantic soowon x yona endgame fic please 🙏 thank you very much!!

Hello, dear! Very sorry it took a while to get this request to you; I’ve had a lot going on with the semester and my 200-follower event and such. However, at long last, here it is! ^.^ Enjoy!

Mad World

The wooden floor of her palace room groaned and moaned with her feverish footfalls as Yona paced back and forth, back and forth, back and back and forth and forth and back again. That was all Yona could do, was pace and think and think while pacing and pace while thinking. Back and forth, think think think, riddle on what the hell she was supposed to do basically imprisoned in her bedroom like this. No dragons, no Yoon, no Hak, just Yona. Yona, alone and pacing and thinking.

It was maddening.

With a sudden, deranged screech of lunacy, she whirled on her heel to tear into the curtains framing the large window overlooking the palace courtyard. Her fingernails ripped into the silken fabric, reaming into the threads and pulling them asunder as she yanked on the curtain with all her might. Little, angry screeches spilled from her mouth while she tugged and tugged, rattling the curtain rod mounted into the stone wall. The linear metal piece desperately tried to cling to the rough surface, but with Yona’s continuous and manic assault, dust began to rain down as the brackets began to wrench loose. Yona wasn’t sure why the poor curtain was the object of her ire, but nevertheless she tore into it like a mangy feral cat, dropping shreds of torn fabric around her slippered feet. Very soon the screws could bear no more and jumped from the wall; the heavy, decorative metal ball welded to the main body made the rod’s plummet all the hastier. Yona jumped violently as it collided into the wooden floor with a massive thunk! and the curtain slipped from her hands to puddle like white milk at her feet. She stared dully at the half-destroyed, dismounted curtains with burning red eyes. It was not satisfying at all; her fingers still itched to maim, to tear into everything in this room and leave it a maelstrom of silk and cotton and splinters.

“Princess! Are you all right?” Of course the noise would attract whoever happened to be nearby. Yona hadn’t much cared of the consequences of her actions at the moment; she was boiling with boredom and anxiety and frustration, and desperately needed an outlet. Normal people might cry, but Yona had elected that tears wouldn’t do. She was beyond tears now, or so she told herself. But…

Why did it have to be Soo-Won?

The young king stared with wide eyes at the curtain rod hanging at a diagonal angle from the wall, the one set of brackets struggling to support its weight, and the tatters of silk curtain surrounding the hem of Yona’s pink kimono. Her eyes were lidded and cold as she just watched him gawk. This was all his fault, really. Sure, Yona had decided to entire an alliance and come to the palace, but if Soo-Won hadn’t set off the chain of events that resulted in that alliance, this wouldn’t be happening.

Yona immediately regretted the thought. She knew better now. If none of this had happened, her people would still be struggling and Yona would be living in blissful ignorance. Sometimes, however, she just couldn’t help but crave that ignorance… Especially when the lingering flames of her love for Soo-Won decided to rear their ugly heads.

Yona’s mouth curled in on itself as her heart lurched in her chest just at the sight of him. It was maddening, the way her desire to dig her fingernails into his cheek mixed with her longing to softly caress it, the way her desire to rip every one of those flax-golden hairs out of his head mixed with her longing to run her hands through him, the way her desire to scream and yell and curse him in a thousand tongues mixed with her longing to throw herself at him and sob and beg and surrender. Maddening, yes it was. It was driving Yona to near insanity, and as she stood there, she was wide-eyed and teetering on an abyss from which there was no return.

“Yona.” His voice was soft and full of concern as he uttered her name. His eyes, still huge with the sight of Yona’s shredded prey, finally flickered up to meet her own fiery ones like dawn. To his credit, he did not flinch away at the inferno there; he just stared, measuring, waiting for her response. “Are you… displeased?” he said finally when she refused to respond. Really, Yona was still so embroiled with her own feelings that she couldn’t formulate a response. His question returned some sense of normalcy to her mind. The fire died in her eyes, cooled by the sheer incredulity at his question.

“‘Displeased,’” she echoed. Slowly, like water trickling from within rocks piled high, her wits returned to her. Her head dropped to do as Soo-Won had, stare numbly at the carnage she had wrought on the poor, innocent drapery. Her hands began to sting terribly with the weight of the own violence she had wrought, as if they were coated in hot, sticky, burning blood and insides. They were just curtains; it wasn’t like she had killed someone. Still, Yona’s stomach flopped about with the unsettling possibility that if someone had stumbled upon her in her mania, she might very well have unleashed on them like a woman possessed. It made the bitter acid of shame flood her tongue. Yona had never been so violent before. Sure, she had done violent things, but always with good reason. This was wanton destruction, and the fact that it was borne of her own hands rattled her to her core.

Well, it wasn’t entirely without reason, she rationalized. “Displeased,” she repeated in a hoarse voice. “Displeased” didn’t even scratch the surface of what she was feeling right now. She didn’t have a word for what she was feeling right now. Silent, teeth clenched, she just stared at the mangled curtains and lamented her own sorry state of being. How had it come to this? Cool, calm, collected, and strong to manic, deranged and mad?

“Yona.” His voice called her with maddening power. Of its own accord, Yona’s head rose to obediently meet his beckoning gaze. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but he had closed the distance and was standing in front of her. She compulsively swallowed. His eyes were the one burning now, pulsing with a soft yet furious heat that made her tremble. It wasn’t anger, or disappointment, or disdain; it was something else entirely, and it both frightened and excited her. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he smiled that gentle reassuring smile that she missed so dearly but wanted to slap off his face. “Tell me what happened.”

 She wanted to lie. She did not want to admit that she had just had a psychotic fit and wrenched the curtain rod off the wall and destroyed the curtains like some kind of beast. Yona, however, felt the pitiful attempts at falsehoods dissolving on her tongue under Soo-Won’s gentle yet critical stare. There was no point in lying and he knew well enough what she had just done. “This alliance isn’t working out the way you wanted it to, is it?” he asked her with a degree of amusement in his voice that made her skin itch with fury.

“No. No, it is not, Soo-Won.” The steel in her voice was sharper than the finest-crafted blade. At the iron on her tongue, the king exhaled deeply and his body sagged sadly. The reaction disquieted her; was he acting for her benefit or truly displeased that she was going crazy cordoned off in this bedroom? His eyes shut for a second, and when they opened, Yona felt electric shocks pulse over every single one of her nerves. The way he was staring at her, apologetic and guilty, was a look she had imagined every day since she witnessed him drawing a bloody sword from her father’s limp body.

It was not satisfying, not at all. Somehow, she wanted more. The madness began to scratch and howl in her ringing skull again.

“How dare you. How dare you look all sad and guilty when I’m stuck here with nothing to do but pace and think and fret all day!” she screamed at him suddenly. She lunged at him, fingers clawing into his kingly robes like they had done the curtains, but rather than shredding them, she only clutched onto them with an iron grip. Her red eyes burned as they bore into his, as if a glare alone could make his combust. “How dare you. You want to know what happened? I am losing my mind! I can’t take it anymore!” A dam erupted inside of her, releasing long-held feelings and tears. They were like rivers of ice and fire as they flooded down her cheeks, and her voice cracked as she hissed again, “I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what is up and what is down. My mind is reeling. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what you’re doing, and the one single comfort I could be afforded while I’m all but your prisoner in here is barred from me!” Her head dropped, chin banging against her chest. Her quivering hands held onto his clothes like the were the lifeline preventing her from being washed out to sea. She hated herself right now, admitted all this to him. But if she didn’t release it to anyone, even if it has to be Soo-Won, she really was going to go insane. What was her country? What was her fate? What was Soo-Won’s plan and how should she respond? These questions plagued her, maddeningly so.

With the weight of her on psyche mounting on her frail body, her knees finally buckled. Soo-Won reflexively caught her under her elbows as her legs folded in on themselves. Sobbing and groaning, she just cried pathetically while he held her up. “And you know… you know what the worst part is?” she choked out between sobs. “I hate you, but I love you. I despise you for what you did but I love you still. I thought I had grown so much, but I came back here, and it all has come crashing down upon me. I’m still that naïve, foolish little girl who wasn’t worth killing.”

“Yona!” She did not expect such harsh bite from his voice. It made her head snap up to look at him with wide and watery eyes. His lips were drawn into a taut line and his eyes were their fieriest yet. “I did not let you go because you were ‘not worth killing.’”

“Then why?” she demanded in an agonized cry. Her fingers dug further into his clothes, probably bruising the skin underneath. “Why, Soo-Won, I don’t under-”

The rest of her words came out as a surprised squeak muffled by his lips crashing into hers. It was not at all kingly, the way he kissed it her; it was passionate, carnal, desperate and mad. If Yona’s legs had been able to support her then, her kneecaps would’ve been obliterated to dust the instant their mouths smashed together. Her eyes fluttered shut with a low, needy whine; as if responding, Soo-Won’s tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled feverishly with her own. She didn’t object. She got drunk off him like she was partaking in the finest wine in the world, her tongue savoring every little bit of his essence. She could vaguely feel his fingers in her dawn-colored hair, caressing and twisting, but most of her senses were dominated by the explosion of feeling fireworking over her body. Oh, oh, how she had wanted this, and how much she hated herself for it.

She lamented the loss of his warmth and touch as he pulled away, and despite herself, her lips involuntarily chased him. She wanted to spend forever in that kiss. In that hazy fog, she didn’t have to think about the circumstances or how wrong it was; she just had to think about him, her mouth on hers and his hands on her body. It was simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. He permitted her pursuit for a moment, giving her another softer kiss with more feeling, but pulled back again after a few seconds. He said her name and it pulled her out of the fog, back to her confusing and complicated and maddening reality.

“Does that answer your question?” His voice was breathy and laced with a fair bit of irritation. Maybe with himself, maybe with Yona- maybe both. She swallowed and licked her lips, mouth suddenly drying up. Was she supposed to be satisfied with that? A kiss that seals the deal and makes everything all right? The trouble was that she was one hundred percent satisfied with that.

She stepped away from him, trying to hide the tremor in her still-recuperating jellified legs. She felt that her hands needed to be doing something so she smoothed out nonexistent creases in her kimono. Her brain whirled desperately trying to make sense of everything, but nothing made sense anymore. That was her problem to begin with. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” He sounded amused, like he had expected it.

“What do you expect?” she huffed. The fight was dying from her voice and spirit, replaced with indescribable weariness. She was so tired. She was so tired of fighting whatever this fight was, but that was the only thing Yona could think to do was fight. Surrender simply was not in the meek, naïve, ignorant princess’ blood, apparently. Her hands continued to fix her perfectly fine kimono while she refused to look at him. “I just… I can’t…” God, she couldn’t even explain herself. This is not how she wanted to look in front of him, flustered and stupid. It was like her previous self had been taken captive and replaced with a bungling imposter, and she was trying so desperately to get it back with little luck. Her hand began stringing through her hair, which was crimping uncomfortably with sweat. All the while, Soo-Won watched her, thankfully without pity. “I hate you,” she grumbled finally, because it was the only thing that sort of made sense.

“I know.” Oh, hell, no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get that sad look on his face and think that it made it all okay. But it did. In Yona’s stupid, manic, mad mind, it made it okay. Defeated, she kicked the curtain rod aside and sank down on the cushioned seat that sat below the windowsill.

“I love you,” she simpered as she put her flushing face in her hands. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had that other look on his face, that soft, gentle smile that made her heart sing and wail simultaneously. That smile that carried a hint of sadness that never faded.

“I know that, too.” A period of silence settled between them. She peered through her fingers to see his own twitching, like he was trying to figure out how to comfort her but arriving at no conclusions. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know what to do with herself, either. As she sat there, the moonlight cool on her back as it flood through the unshielded window behind her, Yona finally began to feel a sense of normalcy returning to her. She partitioned off the confusing kiss and focused instead on her situation and what she ought to do about it, and was beginning to feel that clear-headed determination return to her. I just have to keep fighting. That is all I can do. I will resist as long as I have to and find out what Soo-Won wants…

She felt the cushioning dip beside her and heard the slight ringing of the metal as it rolled over the wooden floor when Soo-Won seated himself beside her. “I wish things were simple.”

“You’re the one who made it complicated.” She kept her face buried in her hands because she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him.

“I suppose that’s true.” His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “I wish I could explain it all to you. I really do. But if I did, I didn’t know if you would believe me.”

“Can’t fault you for that.” Another hollow, joyless laugh that rang through the quiet bedroom, followed by a slight sigh. “I’m not giving up, you know. Don’t think this changes things. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“No, I expect you won’t.” She finally lifted her head to look up at him, finding him smiling as he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. “You wouldn’t be the girl I loved if that happened.”

Surprisingly, her body garnered no reaction from that bombshell of a statement. It felt more like she had known it all along and she was vindicated now. It made a funny taste tingle on her tongue, one she couldn’t quite place; possibly a mixture of things. He smiled more as he pushed himself up from the seat and began heading for the door. “I’ll send someone to fix that in the morning,” he said with a lazy gesture to the destroyed curtains. Yona watched him go with confliction and a heavy heart.

“Yeah. Sure.” Once the frame of the sliding door clacked against the threshold, she exhaled loudly and flopped onto her side; the cushion embraced her, sinking her down into its fluffy softness. With the adrenaline no longer pumping in her system, her muscles now felt the strain of torturing the curtains. Dully, she stared down at its wispy corpse spread out over the wood floor.

The Celestial Dragons. The usurper King Soo-Won. The displaced princess. The Thunder Beast. The unknown battle for the world as they knew it.

Maddening, it all was to Yona. Somehow, though, the one thing that should be the most maddening was no longer maddening at all. She smiled thinly to herself and rolled onto her back, the moonlight washing over her like enclosing her in a blanket.

You drive me mad, Soo-Won… But still, I love you so.

Enjoy this story? Here’s Part II! Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents! 

[andavrii]

Close Enough To Perfect - Garnet’s Half

I’m currently world building for some “semi-original” fiction. It’s a remix of some Arthurian fiction with a hefty dose of character concepts borrowed from @morgaine2005 as well. (Thanks again, Kellie!) While I’m world-building though, I’m dipping the toe back in the old pond by writing up a few little free-form stories mostly drawn from things I’ve told Kellie while I’m boring her to tears with my world-building. Things that impact the story but probably won’t really have a place in the story when I get that far.

So this story is about Garnet and Artemis (who is somewhat based off of COA’s Leona. The daughter of Guinevere and Lancelot, only in this particular world Guinevere is queen of Avalon’s neighboring country, Benoit and was, for a while, married to Arthur. The who why and what of how that fell out is either for the book or for a different drabble and doesn’t really have much impact here. Artemis is still the twin of Galahad, however Will is now Prince Percival/Val Kellie was most insistent that I could not name him Percy. *sad face*.)

Garnet is still the daughter of Morgause and Lot, only--well--little known fact “Garnet” was originally a character sketch I had developed for an Arthurian story, the twin of Gareth. Kellie did a lot of development to her character when she took Garnet over, I simply took and restored Gareth as Garnet’s twin and not her nephew. (Because there’s something in the water.)

Hopefully the rest of this will stand up on its own. Even if you don’t understand the world, the story will be enjoyable.

Length: 6472 words

Fandom: Original Arthurian

Rating: Teen (Barely for minor - like less than ten words of - profanity and one reference to nips on a statue.)

Warnings: It’s fluff? Nothing else though

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Close Enough To Perfect (Garnet’s Story)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

“I--I understand, Your Majesty.” Garnet said, hating that her voice was trembling. Yes, focus on the immediate weakness, not how much this hurts, not how much you needed this to work. Keep your chin up, shoulders back. Don’t hunch, Garnet, don’t give her one clipped copper more power over you. She lost the ability to hurt you when she passed on the chance to help you.

Know what? Screw her. If she can’t see past Mother to see you, then fuck her to the ninth level of hell and back. Get angry, Garnet. Anger is safer. She lifted her head out of her curtsey and met the queen’s eyes, just for a moment, hoping the purples, golds, and corals blazed just like her grandmother’s did when something sparked Grandmother Igraine’s ire.

“Garnet, honey, do you…?”

“No.” Garnet interrupted curtly, before her manners caught up to her. “No, your Majesty, I don’t need a moment compose myself. I was to see my lady-mother after I finished here. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. I’ll see myself out.”

“... Garnet.” Queen Guinevere started.

“I will see myself out, your Majesty.” Garnet repeated, trying to draw the breath of cold, of wintry death that Mother’s voice always held. The queen’s eyes widened in alarm as Garnet nodded once and turned before she could say anything further.

Let her be alarmed, let her be whatever the hell she wanted. Garnet bolstered herself as she walked out of the throne room. Thankfully the audience, while taking place in the throne room, was a private one and only two of Queen Guinevere’s knights had been there to see her. She kept her head up, her spine straight, until she was out of sight of the royal bodyguards at the door to the throne room.

When she was alone in the hall, however, the fragility of her anger shattered, and as she did have an appointment with her lady-mother, she needed to be composed. No, Morgause was not a woman to be kept waiting. But Garnet knew a few shortcuts to the suite that her parents were using for this visit from all the years of hide and seek with Artemis and Galahad and Gareth. She could take just one moment. Just one to take a deep breath. She sank against the panelled wall feeling the coolness of the castle stone just behind it and tried to pull the coldness from the stone and into her body as her hands covered her face.

“Garnet?”

“Your highness!” Garnet gasped, eyes meeting the warm witch hazel green eyes of Benoit’s prince consort, he was standing there, concern and sympathy easy to read on his face.

“Your highness?” Prince Lancelot asked, cocking his head to one side and almost staring at her. “I can’t think of the last time that you called me that, what happened to Uncle Lance?”

That ended when your wife basically told me that she can’t trust me not to be my lady-mother. Did he not know that’s exactly what Guinevere was planning to imply in the meeting?

Actually he probably didn’t. His concern, deepening with every breath as he watched her, was too genuine. Lancelot was a horrible actor. He wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to see. It had always been that way according to Papa. So she couldn’t hurt him. That was what Garnet’s lady-mother would do. Guinevere might’ve deserved it, but Lancelot did not.

“Courtesy is never misplaced, your highness. My lady-mother likes to remind.” Garnet said, bobbing her head in place of a curtsey, even allowing that little bit of familiarity brought all those things she was desperately trying to hide behind her armor too close to the cracks in it. If she had to look up into Lancelot’s handsome, open face much longer she was going to embarrass herself. “And--and speaking of my lady-mother, I am expected at her suite momentarily, if you’ll excuse me, highness?”

“Garnet, if you need a minute, I’m pretty sure one of Gwen’s sitting rooms is empty, you can always just…”

“No.” Garnet said, interrupting one of Benoit’s royals for the second time in less than a quarter hour. “I’ve abused her Majesty’s hospitality enough for one day. I will see you at dinner, your highness.” Garnet didn’t want to say she fled then, but she knew she did.

+++

Lance stared after little Garnet, quite differently than his young squires might’ve. And even though Garnet was a bare fourteen, just sixteen months older than Lance’s twins, the squires already did stare as she walked. Garnet had her mother’s hip-cocked strut and the daringly high heels on her shoes gave a deer-like fragility to that sway.

But whatever was so wrong. No, Garnet was never happy when she had to see her mother, but this was deeper than that. But …

… I’ve abused her Majesty’s hospitality …

Oh, fuck me, Gwen, you didn’t. God above why? How can you be the woman I love and yet so fucking heartless sometimes? And why didn’t you tell me?

Probably because she didn’t want to be reminded that she was being heartless until the poor child’s heart was broken beyond redemption.

He knew Garnet, as well as anyone who wasn’t her twin or cousins could. Even if Lance could talk Gwen around, which he probably couldn’t, Garnet’s pride would never allow her to take a place in the court now. And Gwen knew that. She was counting on it.

Lance was supposed to be in the practice yard in just a few minutes for Galahad’s lessons, but Lance’s second son could wait, right now he needed to champion another child far worse.

Setting his shoulder under his practice armor he executed a ninety degree turn straight off a parade field and marched off to throne room.

Gwen was definitely feeling some guilt right now. She was twisting a loose piece of hair, rich mahogany in color, between her fingers, hunched, just a little, on her throne.

“Lance.” Lance’s wife stood up and spread her hands.

“Really, Gwen?”

“Oh.” Gwen’s face crumpled slightly. “The decision is made, Prince Lancelot.” She shifted from the lost, alone, desperately lonely girl he had loved when she was still Arthur’s wife to his queen in the space of heartbeats.

“I know, your Majesty.” If she was going to play the game of titles, he could play that part as well as she could. Maybe better. “Even if I could change your mind, you could not ever change hers.”

“I’m sure...” Her face looked anything but sure.

Lance shook his head the same way he would’ve if one of his knights had completely fucked up beyond the pale. Not with the slight sympathy he’d have allotted a squire who was still young, but the same disappointed detachment of someone who could’ve done better but had chosen not to.

“You seem very--certain.”

“I am.”

“...How?” Gwen asked, eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Because she’s probably in her lady-mother’s presence, as we speak, telling her. The damage is done, Gwen. You fucked up.”

+++

Garnet didn’t even get all the way to the stairs, out of the sight of the guards, before the tears came. She’d held them off by every bit of trained will Morgan had graced her with. But at the moment she was not Lady Garnet, she was not a mage, she was not a quarter-fae of high court blood, she was a fourteen year old girl.

She was a girl who had lost the last avenue of escape, the last vestige of a whispered prayer that she could in some way make her lady-mother proud.

Morgause hadn’t even been mean about it. Garnet thought as she stumbled past the guards and into the stairwell. She had, to what had to be a strain on her abilities, even been sympathetic.

… And disappointed …

That was the Morgause that Garnet knew; she was always disappointed in Garnet. Garnet was an imperfect copy, a flawed fake. She would never, ever, be what Morgause was.

The stairs split one going left, one going right, Garnet had just a bare few seconds before she hit the landing to remember which way the practice grounds were. She didn’t know if Papa would be back from his ride yet, the stables weren’t far from the practice grounds, but Gareth, hopefully Gareth could get out of his sparring match with Prince Percival.

There she went again, betting on hope.

It’s better to have the minorest basic plan, Morgause said, than to throw yourself on the dice of hope. But you’ll never understand that, my little flower.

“No, I don’t suppose I will.” Garnet breathed barely over the clatter of her heels. The pet name was often mistaken by most people for a compliment, Garnet knew it wasn’t. A flower was pretty, pretty but fragile. Even the most beautiful rose, once you reached past the thorns, could be crumpled with so very little effort. Just like Garnet was now. Crumpled and smashed and thrown upon the ground.

It was, perhaps, understandable that Garnet just didn’t see where the paving pulled away from the wall. She couldn’t really see anything, tears smeared across her vision, beading up at the corners before sliding down like warm rain, destroying Garnet’s careful cosmetics, smearing rouge and kohl down her cheeks.

She took the cornering of the path just a little too tightly, her heel sinking into the damp ground, and then--well--the fall was inevitable.

As should’ve been the squelch of mud under her palms and knees as she reached the end of her arc leading her to the ground.

“Oh, look, Laz, it seems the little Avalonian bitch has found her way to the mud like all of her kind.” An affected breathy voice--masculine, not feminine--said from somewhere to her right.

“Well, as you say, my dear Con, it was inevitable. Poor thing. Do you think we should do something for her?” Laz, whomever he was, simpered back.

Garnet wanted to raise her head, to cover them in boils, let them belch up slugs, something. To be angry, to fight, to hurt someone like she hurt. But…

… she couldn’t …

All she could do was wallow in the mud like some toddler who didn’t know better than getting her best dress dirty. To crawl to forward, making it worse, because her hands were sinking even further into puddle.

Maybe the ground could be what her lady-mother, the queen, could not be. Kind. Maybe it could just open up and swallow her up. The breeze picked up for just a moment then, blowing the soft, intoxicating, smell of flowers, roses most of all, onto Garnet’s face. One last taunt.

The two courtiers were obviously warming to their task as they showed no indication of moving on.

Damn it. Garnet thought as she tried to rub the tears out of her eye with one sleeve, barely avoiding getting mud in her eye and leaving a streak of it across her cheek. A deep breath hitched in her chest at at least three points and did nothing to calm her.

A loud crunch of metal jangling together brought her head up fast. Someone in full practice armor had suddenly appeared in the mud not far from Garnet, given the depth their boots had sunk into the mud (paired, of course, with the loud clattering) suggested that they had scaled the wall and jumped down from the top.

The armor told Garnet very little, it was well-used and well-cared for, good quality as far as she could tell. Other than that? An unremarkable surcoat in the Benotian royal colors of deep blue and light blue, obviously not new, but also not shabby.

The squire? drew a practice blade from their belt and dropped into a stance, facing the two courtiers with an obvious air of menace.

Garnet heard the sound of fashionable shoes hitting gravel a moment later. They had barely started running before Garnet’s ostensible rescuer had turned toward her, holding out a gauntleted hand that Garnet just stared at.

The owner of those gauntlets tipped their helm back, not just the visor, but the whole thing. It landed in the puddle with a splatter that spat the viscous mud all over. But Garnet really wasn’t focused on the boots or, at the moment, even the mud.

“Artemis?” Garnet whispered.

“I won’t ask if you’re all right, you wouldn’t be in the mud if you were, but what’s wrong and can I help?” Artemis asked as the wind tugged at her hair, not so rich a mahogany as the queen’s, nor as sunbleached chestnut as her brothers and father, but a mingled combination of the two, the sunlight was hitting a highlight turning it to gold. Practically, as it had been tucked up under a helm, it was braided and wrapped into a crown, giving Artemis the appearance of nearly having a halo.

“I’m--I--I.”

“Okay, let’s start slower, with solving the immediate problem, up you get, Garnet.” Artemis bent down and slid her hands under Garnet’s armpits, lifting her.

Garnet’s hands made a sticky, slurping sound as they came out of the mud. Garnet looked at them and moaned.

Artemis tsked and pulled a waterskin from her belt, upending the contents on Garnet’s hands before taking a cloth from her belt pouch and scrubbing at the hands.

They weren’t entirely clean when Artemis stopped because her cloth was covered in mud, but they were far better than they had been.

The floral tinted breeze tugged at Garnet’s hair as well, tugging a strand across her face where it threatened to stick to the mud.

Artemis let go of Garnet’s hand to tuck the wayward strand behind her ear. “Can you walk?” Artemis asked, cocking her head to the side the same way that Prince Lancelot always did.

“I think--I think so.” Garnet’s legs felt like jelly, but didn’t give out when she took a few tentative steps toward the paved stone path.

“Great!” Artemis had always been just a little like a whirlwind, rarely still for any length of time, so Garnet wasn’t at all surprised when Artemis caught up one of Garnet’s hands and started off away from the castle, further into the gardens.

She was, however, surprised when Artemis stopped after about three steps and looked back at Garnet, or rather at Garnet’s feet. The younger girl frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as her lips pursed a moment later.

“Sit down a moment, will you?” Artemis said, gesturing to a bench.

Garnet shrugged and sat down on the hard stone, thankfully not squelching with mud. Although if she thought about it, where mud would be on the back of her dress--of which she was desperately not looking, it had been one of her favorites and now completely ruined--wouldn’t have been under her rear anyway.

Artemis went to her knees, unfastening the shoes that Garnet was wearing with an ease that was frankly astonishing given that she was wearing gauntlets. Artemis looked at the heels and then pitched them somewhere into the gardens before bouncing to her feet and extending a hand to help Garnet up again.

“Artemis, my shoes!”

“They’re three-quarters ruined anyway, who cares?” Artemis shrugged as she lead Garnet on across the grass.

“The gardener who has to pick them up?” Garnet frowned.

“It won’t be the weirdest thing the gardeners pick up today.” Artemis dismissed.

Garnet didn’t know how to argue with that, so she just didn’t. If she was going to be honest with herself there was something rather freeing about running across the plush green grass of the castle gardens barefooted like a child again.

Artemis seemed to have some place in mind and disinclined to talk, so they simply ran. Artemis with the grace of an elvensteed, Garnet with far less.

“Almost there,” Artemis said as she peered through the suddenly very structurally planted trees.

It took a moment for Garnet to realize they were now in the fruit orchard.

“Mum tells the gardeners to keep me out of here, so I kinda gotta look out for them.” Artemis told her. “She says at best, I’ll ruin my supper, at worst, nobody else will get any fruit the entire season.”

Garnet smiled faintly, but couldn’t manage anything more than that, the thoughts of how she’d ended up in the mud puddle, thoughts that had fled while they’d been running, caught up with Garnet once more.

Artemis’s eyes flickered over Garnet’s face, but she said nothing further as she lead Garnet through the trees. “But I’m not actually trying to get into fruit, there’s--well, you’ll see.” Artemis finally did say as she pushed aside a branch covered in the softest pink flowers Garnet had ever seen.

And see, Garnet did. The branch had hidden a little cup of a copse, a small pond at its heart. There was a fountain in the center of the pond; a statue of a woman carved out of white marble, she was technically not nude, wearing a what would’ve been a very thin dress that appeared to be molded to her skin by water, cupping her breasts, even defining her very pert little nipples. On one side the skirt was pressed against the woman’s legs, swirling around her in an echo of the hair on the other. The statue held a bowl that cleverly played up the interesting curves and lines of the woman’s body, spilling water down her arms chest, even around the curves of her hair and dress.

The entire pond was surrounded in more of those blossoming trees, many of them dewed and dotted with water from the fountain.

If Garnet tipped her head to one side or the other, she could see the shimmer of rainbows, the beads of water catching every bit of floral scented light and shining like diamonds.

Artemis was standing not far from Garnet, just watching her.

“This is my favorite place in the whole gardens. Val likes the hedge maze, the structure and arbors of it. There’s a bit of a wild garden with a wood swing that Galahad likes to sit on and read. Mum has her private gardens and as far as I know, the practice grounds are as close to the gardens as dad gets, unless he’s in Mum’s gardens with Mum. But this is mine.” Artemis lead Garnet around to the single patch of dry ground near the fountain.

“It’s … beautiful.” Garnet told her.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose here soon you’ll be bringing boys out here.” Garnet said, looking at the mud smeared on her hands and arms.

“ … No. I’d rather save this for important people.” Artemis plunked down on the ground like a stone dropping to the ground.

“Have you shown it to anyone before?”

“Only my twin.” Artemis admitted. “And now you.”

“Yeah, well, there goes your important people.” Garnet muttered.

“What?” Artemis cocked her head to the side again.

The tears that Garnet had been successfully repressing suddenly sprang up once more, the first two tumbling down her muddy cheeks before she even realized they were stinging her eyes.

“Do you know why I was in the mud in the first place?”

“Those stupid crummy shoes your lady-mother,” Artemis put a lot more mocking emphasis on the words than Garnet even dared in her own head. “Insists you wear.”

“Well, the heel caught in the mud, yes. But--your lady-mother told me--told me …” Garnet couldn’t even finish it, embarrassingly hitching off with a sob.

“Aw, fuck.” Artemis sighed. “She say why?”

“Morgause.” Garnet breathed out in between sobs. “I mean she didn’t--she didn’t say that …”

“But once you wipe the diplomatic bullshit off, that’s square on what she meant.” Artemis shook her head. “Shit, I’m sorry, Garnet.”

“It--it was my one hope, Artemis. I have no hope of rising in the court at Camelot. And--and my lady-mother--Mother is there--all the time. I think the last time she was at home for more than a few days was when Dindrane gave birth to Nimue. I mean I’m sure that Aunt Portia would give me a place in her ladies if I asked. But I would still live in the townhouse with my lady-mother. She would still be there every--every day, telling me how I’m not,” her voice completely dissolved into tears at this point, sobs replacing words, eyes glazed over so fully it took three or four blinks to spill enough to see when she heard fabric ripping.

Artemis had torn a large chunk off of her surcoat, leaning toward Garnet, the fabric soft and worn and just lightly smelled like rose petals. Or maybe it was Artemis’ that smelled like them.

As gently as one might clean an antique porcelain doll, Artemis wiped the tears from Garnet’s face.

“Sorry, I forgot a handkerchief this morning and I already used my sweat rag to clean your hands.” Artemis apologized.

“Why are you sorry? I’m covered in mud and cosmetics and--and…” Garnet’s sobs stole her words once more.

“Because you deserve so much more than an old rag pulled off my rattiest, oldest surcoat, Garnet.” Artemis cupped Garnet’s chin in her palm, turning Garnet’s face so the only place she could look was straight into Artemis’s eyes, greener and brighter than the queen’s ocean-water ones.

Garnet could feel her heart pick up in beat, her breath causing her chest to strain against the neckline of her dress.

“No, I don’t.” Garnet told her. “My lady-mother …”

“Your mother probably has a wiper because otherwise she’d spend half an hour after being on the pot wiping here,” Artemis took her hand away from Garnet’s chin to rub her elbow.

It was so--unlike anything Garnet had ever heard anyone say about her lady-mother that something that was like the lovechild of a sob and a laugh leapt from Garnet’s mouth before she could stop it.

“I just wanted, I wanted to get away from her, Artemis. No one understands, no one knows what she’s capable of. I don’t want to know what she’s capable of.” Garnet whispered around the sobs and gasps for breath that she couldn’t keep from bubbling up.

“If you want, Garnet, I’ll take you away from her.” Artemis laid a gauntleted hand on to of Garnet’s.

Garnet stared at the hand then shook her head, looking up into Artemis’s open--beautiful--face. How had she never noticed that Artemis looked exactly like an angel out of a painting?

“I don’t want your pity, Artemis.” Garnet said.

Artemis bit her lip and looked briefly toward the fountain. “You don’t.”

“What?”

“Garnet, you have my heart, my love, everything that I am, everything that I will ever be, if you want it, you have since we met when we were little kids.” Artemis took a deep breath and looked back at Garnet through the veil of her long dark lashes. “But you will never have my pity. I love you too much to pity you. Because you are worth so much more than what pitying you would imply about you.”

Garnet’s jaw fell slightly, her breath picking back up again.

“I--I understand if you don’t feel the same. I mean you’re--you’re everything I won’t ever be.” Artemis continued on, looking at the fountain once more, voice a little shaky as well. The light through the blossoms shifted as the breeze died down as if everything had gone still and silent, waiting. Once more it touched on Artemis’ hair, turning it into a golden halo. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Or what I want for you.”

“What do you want for me?” Garnet asked, her voice a crow-harsh croak.

“Everything! I want you to be happy, I want you to be loved. I want you to have someone who feels about like I feel about you and you feel the same about them. I want you to not have to fear your mother, your brother. To the point of wanting to sneak across the border and put string at the top of every steep set of stairs they walk down just to see you safe.” Artemis shook her head.

I--I don’t deserve any of this, how could Artemis…?

“I know I’m not clever like Val and Galahad, even Mum. I’m not good with people like Dad. I can’t say this better. I know I’m not much to offer, but…” Artemis trailed off with a sputter like a horse shaking its head. “I--I understand.”

The younger girl shifted as if she were starting to get up.

Garnet’s hands shot out, one to grab Artemis’s, the other cupped Artemis’s chin, turning it so Garnet was once more looking into Artemis’s eyes. She leaned toward Artemis, their foreheads coming to rest together.

“I wouldn’t say your mother is all that clever.” Garnet whispered.

Artemis giggled. “Maybe not. She thinks you’re like your mother after all.”

“I know why she’d think it.”

“Don’t let her off the hook, she’s being an ass, Garnet. It’s not you--it’s her. Maybe understandable her, a non-paranoid queen is usually a dead queen, but it’s still her and you don’t have to forgive her or not be hurt by her actions.”

“Wow, you--wow.”

“Galahad. He’s been talking philosophy ever since he got back from Sir Boring’s.” Artemis shrugged. “Even a bone-headed grunt like me can pick up a thing or two.”

“You’re not a bone-head. You’re,” Garnet leaned back, smoothing down the fly-away hairs the breeze was tugging on. “You’re loyal and you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for and you’re--chivalrous.”

“Well, I try.”

“And succeed. You’re--you’re perfect.” Garnet touched Artemis’s cheek. “And I--I don’t know why you love me--but I think--I think I love you too.” Garnet didn’t know much about love, her parents, her elder brother, their marriages were more about compatibility than anything remotely resembling love, but she--she could try. What did she have to lose? “I’m gonna be bad at it.”

“You couldn’t be bad at something if you tried.” Artemis said using her fingertips to tilt Garnet’s head to one side, leaning toward her.

Garnet also leaned forward, hand sliding into the loose space where Artemis’s braid was coming unpinned. And then soft as a whisper of rose petals across the skin, Artemis’s lips were touching Garnet’s. She lost herself in the blossom scented breeze, the burble of the fountain, the lap of water against gravel, in the quiet, soft, honest desperation with which Artemis kissed her, the same desperation Garnet echoed with.

“It’ll be okay in the end.” Artemis whispered against her lips.

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t the end. Ask my brother, he’ll tell you.”

Garnet smiled and buried her face in Artemis’s neck. “I could stay here forever.”

“No, because we need to get you a different dress, we do still have a court dinner tonight, unfortunately. I like food, but I like it better when I know what it is.” Artemis waited just long enough for Garnet to raise her head before bouncing to her feet.

“I don’t even know what I’m going to wear. All I have left that I haven’t worn is my formal for the masquerade tomorrow.” Garnet sighed.

“You can wear one of mine. It’ll look better on you than me anyway.” Artemis held a hand out to Garnet, at some point she’d removed her gauntlets.

After Garnet took it and got to her feet, Artemis pulled her into a hug. “You smell like roses.” Garnet commented before blinking, because she was pretty sure that Artemis was blushing.

“Yeah--I have ‘em put in with my clothes and it’s the scent in my soap.”

“So why are you blushing?” Garnet asked as they walked, hand-in-hand back toward the castle.

“Because--I--they remind me of you.”

“They…” Garnet stared at her.

“Roses are beautiful and they’re--fierce--and amazing. And so are you.”

“Morgause calls me her little flower, because they’re easily crushed and scattered.”

Artemis narrowed her eyes slightly. “It’s worse than I thought, does she like need reminders to breathe? I mean if she’s that stupid …”

Garnet chuckled. “Perhaps. Artemis?”

“Yeah?”

“How are we gonna get in the castle without everyone seeing me? I am kinda covered in mud.” Garnet admitted toward her feet.

“There’s a balcony not far from my room, only half a wall up.” Artemis shrugged as if it were that easy. Maybe for Artemis it was.

“I’m not really that good at climbing.” Garnet admitted.

“I can give you a boost.”

“You just want to touch my butt.” Garnet told her primly.

“Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean that getting onto the balcony can’t be a decent enough side objective.”

Garnet couldn’t help it, she laughed.

“Not this one either. It doesn’t matter how much you tug on the laces, Artemis. If I take anything other than a shallow breath in this gown, the court is going to get an eyeful.” Garnet sighed.

Artemis sighed and put her chin over Garnet’s shoulder, her arms around Garnet’s waist, pulling Garnet slightly back against her chest.

If she hadn’t been on the verge of panic over what she was going to wear, she might’ve just leaned back and stayed like that.

“Huh, I have an idea.” Artemis kissed the side of Garnet’s neck and dashed out from behind the screen. A moment later Artemis reappeared with the mud-stained dress and laying it down on the ground. She flipped the soft teal silk up exposing the lace underneath, frowning slightly. “Okay, this could work.”

“Do I even want to know?” Garnet asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Watch a genius at work.” Artemis grinned bouncing to her feet again and came back with two paintbrushes, three pots of ink, and a pair of scissors. “Or rather help a genius work. Help me spatter this lace with this ink.”

“... Are you sure we want to stop off at ‘genius’?” Garnet looked at the brush Artemis had just laid in her hand.

“You’re lucky I’m cute.” Artemis stole a quick kiss before dipping her own brush in the ink and tossing it at the lace.

Garnet’s brows drew in, but she followed suit.

“Wait, shouldn’t that be that you are lucky I’m cute and not I’m lucky you’re cute?”

“Nah.” Artemis grinned continuing to dot the lace with an adorable frown of concentration.

After the first piece of lace was spattered with black ink, Artemis took the scissors and cut the lace off of the dress. The second piece of lace was spattered with blue ink and removed as well, Artemis washed the brushes and opened the third pot of ink, which was gold.

“Mum would kill me if I wasted this by just randomly spattering it.” Artemis told her as she knelt down next to the dress. With careful precision, Artemis dipped her brush into the gold ink and drew vines and mystical looking swirls on the lace.

Garnet felt very much the idiot because she still didn’t get what Artemis was doing, but watching Artemis who stuck her tongue just slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she worked, Garnet decided she didn’t really need to know.

“Okay, that should be good. Now we just need the starch and some way to get these dry.” Artemis said, standing up and planting her hands on her hips.

“I can get them dry,” Garnet said, pursing her lips.

“Oh? How?” Artemis asked.

“Ma-a-a-agic” Garnet wiggled her fingers exaggeratedly.

Artemis giggled before dashing off.

Where Artemis found the energy, Garnet didn’t know. She hadn’t done half as much as Artemis today and she was exhausted. Also worried because the none bell had rung a while ago and Garnet still didn’t know what she was going to be wearing.

Artemis once more returned with a bowl of laundry starch and another, larger, brush. She quickly, but carefully, applied the starch to the fabric with a studied hand.

“If this won’t come out wrong, you’re actually pretty good at this,” Garnet said.

“Dad again. He likes to assign chores when discipling us, he says that knowing how to cook, clean, launder, and patch stuff won’t hurt any of us. Plus it gives us more respect for our servants. We might be royals but we won’t be brats on his watch,” Artemis said. “As I am terrible at cooking, I usually traded Galahad or Val for laundry duty.”

“I think my lady-mother’s head would explode if Papa told me to get myself down to the laundry and do chores.” Garnet shook her head.

“Do you think we could ask your father to do it, then? To see if it works?” Artemis asked holding up the piece of lace.

Garnet snickered and applied her will to the fabric, warming the delicate threads of silk with a steady stream of magical energy.

“Great!” Artemis said after a moment. “Do you at least know how to sew? Because if not, we’ll have to go find a maid or something.”

“One better.” Garnet said.

“More magic?” Artemis asked, her green eyes sparkling with excitement.

Garnet nodded.

“Too awesome.” Artemis grinned. “Just let me get these cut down to size and we’ll be good to go.”

With that, the other girl took the scissors to the pieces of lace, cutting the worst off the mud off and shaping what was left into panels and--actually Garnet had no idea what the other pieces were.

“Okay, we’ll take this one, because the colors are the closest.” Artemis said picking up one of the discarded dresses and arranging the lace pieces around the neckline before nodding at Garnet.

Garnet shrugged and used magic to fuse the pieces together and to the dress where Artemis indicated.

“That is really, really cool. And much quicker than watching me stitch and tack. I can do it, but I’m kinda slow. You know who is actually insanely good at sewing? My brother Val. Mum says it appeals to his meticulous nature.”

“And Galahad?” Garnet had to ask.

“Would rather stick the needle in his eye. Actually I’m surprised he hasn’t.” Artemis shook her head. “Of course if he would pay attention to the patch and not the book he’s got his nose in while trying to patch something, he’d do better. Once he sewed his surcoat to his lap not paying attention. Not like a little bit of his lap, straight across it. Even Val laughed at that.”

“Okay, so what is this?” Garnet gestured to the random oddly shaped pieces left.

“An artistic solution to a practical problem, so--uh--sew where I tell you, okay?” Artemis grinned.

Garnet took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly trying not to seem like she was doing so.

Gareth grinned reassuringly at her. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“If you say so.” Garnet breathed back.

Gareth patted her hand, smile identical to Papa’s. He might’ve had a clever response, but one of the young pages ran up to them right then.

“For you, my lady.” He bobbed his head in a bow and was off like a shot before Garnet could do more than accept the handkerchief that he shoved into her hands.

Garnet tilted her head to the side but unfolded the piece of lace trimmed linen. It contained a single rose in the softest shade of peach Garnet had ever seen. There was no note, but Garnet smiled anyway, she knew.

She tucked the handkerchief into the neck of her dress before sliding the stem of the rose into her hair by her ear, the stem the perfect length for doing exactly that, thoughtfully trimmed of thorns.

“His grace, Lord Gareth,” the herald announced. Gareth extended his arm to Garnet, who took it with a nod. “And her grace, Lady Garnet.”

The huge doors to the great hall opened and stepping forward actually pitched them into shadow. Whomever had designed the great hall at Benoit Castle had a serious fetish for drama, there were two huge candelabra flanking the door, but most of the time they were shaded by elaborately wrought metal cages, this gave a moment or two of near darkness before the court could see anyone entering.

It wasn’t until one stepped out into the light of the huge overhead chandelier that a person could truly be seen by the court. Gareth wore a high court doublet in burgundy and sable, identical to the one that Papa wore as he sat at the high table and grinned at them.

Garnet wore the gown of Artemis’s that they had modified that afternoon. The lace had become a decorative collar, the ink covering any stains of mud that might’ve soaked into it, and also covering the fact that the neckline of the dress barely covered Garnet’s modesty.

Those odd pieces made up curling decorative wings, like a faerie’s, laced onto the back of the dress covering the fact that Garnet couldn’t quite lace the dress down without cutting off her ability to breathe.

If anything Papa’s grin got broader as Garnet and Gareth made their way toward their seats. Morgause’s face, however, grew stormy. Her eyes, a deeper lavender than Garnet’s own eyes, and lacking the peach and orange tones that gave Garnet’s a sunset appearance, narrowed.

Artemis was good because while the base of Garnet’s dress was the pieces of a ruined gown and a borrowed one that didn’t even really fit, few would say that Morgause’s elaborately cut velvet gown in a rich purple that, now that Garnet was looking, kinda clashed with Papa’s burgundy, was the more impressive of the two.

Artemis, to her father’s left, grinned at Garnet and winked like the gold chains woven through Artemis’s hair.

“That is--quite the gown, my little flower.” Morgause said as Garnet sat down next to Papa.

“Thank you, my lady-mother.” Garnet murmured toward the table, seeing the metal and leather headdress Morgause wore out of the corner of her eyes.

“I never said I liked it.”

“Well, I do.” Papa grinned slightly up at Garnet. At least he had a proper chair this time, the back the same height and design as the other chairs, but the legs were taller and the seat much higher with a small stool tucked off to one side making it easier to slide into. Often when they visited other courts he found himself sitting on a couple of thick books like a toddler.

It was a nice touch, but the day’s events led Garnet to wonder if that was Queen Guinevere’s thought and care …

Or Prince Lancelot’s.

“Me too, my lady-mother. I like it as well,” Gareth said.

“Seems you’re outnumbered for the moment, my lady.” Papa turned to his wife, eyes narrowed slightly.

“So it seems.”

If only the words didn’t seem to herald retribution to come, Garnet couldn’t help but shiver.

[bffhreprise]

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, Entry 369

 Getting paid to play a video game was such a strange idea.  I still didn’t understand James’ angle in having us do this, but even playing with the character creation was getting me excited.  The possible hair styles alone seemed endless, starting with a basic look and following deeper and deeper advanced options to refine the style however I wanted.  I noticed that Babette was modeling her character after herself, but I didn’t want to be playing myself.  I wanted…

 I thought for a while, uncertain.  Then I came across a slider for creating and adjusting a widow’s peak.  I grinned to myself, wanting to create a form that screamed “vampired” to any who saw it.  He needed to be handsome, gaunt, and stern with black hair and pale skin.  His eyes… charming?  Piercing?  Hmm…

 Babette finished creating her character, Cogneur, before I was done with Ombre, but both of us easily beat Heloise.  She made small adjustments, stared for a while, and adjusted some more, acting as if we had all day.  With Dani impatiently making her character pace nearby, I doubted we had long at all.  If she complained to her dad…

 “Louise Labé?” questioned James as he came up behind Heloise.

 “A poet I like.” she replied, shrinking into her chair in embarrassment.

 “You didn’t!?” laughed Babette, shaking her head in disbelief.

 “Oh, let her be.” I ordered, knowing what my sister would say next.  “You never complained when she used to read to us.”

 “We were six!  I didn’t know poets were lame yet.” insisted Babette with a predatory grin.

 “Lame?” questioned Dani from where she sat.

 “I believe she means boring.” stated James disapprovingly.

 “Is not!” exclaimed Dani fervently.  “I love poetry!  I know hundreds!”

 “Not in any language they’d understand.” replied James as he stepped up behind her to pat her head.

 I nearly argued that he should try us, since we weren’t mere rabble that could barely handle one language, but James would know.  I suppressed a shudder as I remembered that James knew far too much, things that should have been impossible to discover.

 He turned to face Babette, saying, “Brandon might be the only one who agrees with you about poetry in this house.  Dejon might force you to read poetry for the rest of us if he’s in the mood.”

 Babette stared, the gears of thought were probably racing in her head.  “How?” she asked.  “He doesn’t seem that tough.”

 “Dejon doesn’t need to be tough.  If he tells you to do something, you’ll find yourself doing it.” James informed us.  “You really need to stop underestimating the rest of us.”

 Even as my sister nodded, I failed to suppress a snort.  That sounded like absolute rubbish.  No spell could… well… none that I knew…  I frowned, forcing myself to acknowledge that I didn’t really have a clue what was possible.  From what I “knew” before, no one could keep up with a Slayer, but James wasn’t normal.

 “Daddy, we should do a poetry reading!  Heloise and I could consult with Mila about which ones and musical background!” suggested Dani excitedly.

 “If you decide on a time, I promise to attend.” he replied, turning back to face her seat.

 She turned and grinned.  Then she started animatedly talking with Mila in some bizarre, practically musical language while still making her character pace.

 “What’s she saying?” questioned Heloise.

 “Just making plans.” replied James, his attention back on Heloise’s character progress.

 “What language is that?” asked Babette as she strained for more height without leaving her seat, wanting to watch Dani.

 “Nothing you need to learn.  Remember, the three of you are on a job.  You need to stay busy.” he admonished.

 “Sorry.” stated Babette, twisting back around to play the starter quests.

 I quickly joined her, not wanting his ire.  There was something strange about James when he was angry, something that made all three of us exceptionally uncomfortable.  Under our old boss, we had been yelled at plenty of times, even when we didn’t deserve it, but that terrible man couldn’t make us feel so… guilty.  A certain amount of fear toward James was natural, I was certain, but I didn’t really understand how James made us feel so terrible about our mistakes with so few words.

 Babbette and I had barely finished a quest when James left, despite Heloise barely joining us.  Dani didn’t seem to care what we were doing, too involved in her conversation.  At least, I thought she was too involved when her character showed up next to us.  I stared, watching in shock as her character grabbed mine, bending him down and biting into his neck.  Blood sprayed out as her teeth sunk into him, but the initial spray was brief, very brief compared with the long time they stood with her teeth at his neck.  When his body stopped shaking, she unceremoniously dropped him.  More blood sprayed as she took a dagger to her palm.  Then she bent down, forcing her hand over his mouth, and his body convulsed.

 Ombre was still convulsing when Dani’s Luxa turned her eyes on her next victim.  This time Dani started telling us at great length how difficult choosing the right animation was for her.  She had watched numerous vampires feed and adjusted some of the default animations to be similar to her favorites.  Hearing someone declare a favorite way for a vampire to feed just felt wrong.  Still, I didn’t really think Dani was nuts until she started telling us about our part in her plan to conquer the world.

,,,^._.^,,,

 Staring around, I was fairly certain that I wasn’t supposed to be here.  I didn’t recognize any of the buildings, the people, or even the sky here.  I could imagine how the big, fluffy cloud would look if I was in my neighborhood, and I was certain that it would be far more peaceful there.  Why wasn’t I home?

 “Hello, Noelle.  Sorry for the wait, but you ended up quite far from the house.” came a voice from behind me.

 I didn’t recognize the voice, but the woman knew my name.  When I turned, I was amazed at how beautiful she was.  She had flawless skin, and I didn’t see any trace of makeup, though her lips were redder than normal.  Her eyes were a vivid green, seeming to sparkle in the light.  Her hair flowed in the small breeze, and only as I followed its length did I notice that she was a maid.  There was a maid who knew my name!

 “This way, Noelle.  I needed to park a block away, since I took one of the company limos to fetch you.” she told me, motioning for me to follow her.

 I did, admiring how she seemed to float along without a care about the people staring at her.  Did I count as staring at her?  Who was she?  Did I know her?  I kept following her, remembering that was my task.  “Wow.  A limo!” I exclaimed excitedly.  “Do you think there’s a movie star nearby?” I asked, knowing that they sometimes came to the city.  “Maybe a singer!”

 To my surprise, the maid opened the door, curtsying as she motioned for me to enter.  Was I meeting someone important?  No one was inside when I stepped into the limo.  The seat was soft and wrapped around a low table.  There was fruit and water.

 “Oh!  Hello!”  I exclaimed when I turned, drawn to the sound of a shutting door.  A maid was sitting next to me, smiling.  “Wow.  I’m dressed up.  Sorry, but I’m a bit forgetful.  What are we doing?”

 “Hello, Noelle.  I am Mila.  You took the wrong bus by accident, so Mr. Somerset allowed me to fetch you, though he hasn’t been informed yet.  You have a job interview with him today.” she replied with such a kind smile.

 “I have a job interview!?” I asked excitedly.  When she nodded, I said, “That’s amazing!  Jamie will be so happy.  She worries about me.”  Realizing that I wasn’t certain where we were going, I cautiously asked “Are we friends?”  I liked this woman, but even I should know the names of my friends.  I didn’t remember Mila.

 “I am quite certain we will be, but we have just met.  Would you like some refreshments?” she asked, motioning to a small table with fruit and water.  “If you would prefer something else, there are crackers available, some cheese, and a few types of rolls currently stocked.  I typically take better preparations, but I really did believe you were going to step onto the right bus and hurried to get here when you didn’t.”

 “I’m so sorry!  I’m usually okay at busses.  Where was I supposed to be going?” I asked, sad that I made this nice lady go out of her way.  “Oh, no.  Sorry.  I forgot your name.  I have trouble remembering things.  Would you mind telling me?”

 Thankfully, she wasn’t angry, still smiling politely.  When she told me her name, I repeated it to myself aloud and then in my head, over and over, taking a slice of apple from a plate she held up to me.  Then I drank some water.  Oranges!  I love oranges.  I ate an orange slice as I listened to Mila tell me that I was on my way to be interviewed.  I had a job interview!  That was nice.

 “Where are we?” I asked, taking in the beautiful fountain and sculpted bushes along the drive.  There was a huge building here with a fanciful facade.  “So pretty…”

 “Yes, the master is quite fond of his estate.  You are here at Somerset Estate to meet James Michael Somerset III, so you can have a job interview with him.” explained Mila with such a kind smile.

 We walked through two sets of double doors, and I stared around at the lofty, painted ceiling as well as the twin staircases rising to a second floor.  Even the walls were decorated here, engraved wood with lovely paintings.

 When I started turning up to look at the ceiling again, my eyes caught a boy, a very handsome boy with blue eyes and chestnut hair.  “Wow.  When did you get there?” I asked in surprise.  He was very tall.

 Smiling down at me, he asked “Noelle, why are you here?”

 “This kind lady found me and brought me here.  She said I was supposed to… er... “

 “Have an interview.” stated Mila.

 “Really!?” I asked in surprise.  “I should’ve dressed up!” I looked down, surprised to find myself wearing my favorite green dress.  “Oh.  I did!”  Grinning, I looked up to the boy and asked “Isn’t this great!?”

 “Marvelous.  Let’s get you upstairs for the paperwork.  Your sister will be thrilled to hear you’ve found a job.” stated the boy, still smiling.

 “I have a job!?  That’s wonderful!  I knew I needed to come here.” I acknowledged, following behind him.  Then I realized I had forgotten something.  “Wait.  You have a name.  Did you tell me?”

 He turned around, saying, “James Michael Somerset III.  Welcome to Best Friend For Hire.”

 I repeated his name several times and kept repeating it in my head.  “I got it.” I assured him, happy as his smile widened a little more.

 I was introduced to someone in a kitchen, but I couldn’t remember his name, too distracted by the taste of the most marvelous cookies.  There were more beautiful hallways, paintings, vases, and sooo many stairs.  Then there was a fancy room that looked like a peaceful forest where Mila told me about legal stuff.  Sometime later, I was being taken home.  Mila informed me that I had a job and encouraged me to remember, so I could tell Jamie!  My sister was going to be so happy!

[thewolfisawake]

He survived. Of course he did. Eli...Elias was never out to for him. Hell, he wasn’t even expecting anyone to be there. Between the two of them, Samir was the only one armed. And it was that stupidity that got him here. If he wasn’t prepared to pull the trigger, he shouldn’t have had it in the first place. 

Why did he think that would even work? Did he think that it was just dumb joke that the agent was fond of? Did he think that he could threaten Elias to go back? And even if he stopped him that night, what stopped Elias from going back the next night? Or the night after that? It was a threat as idle as he was, being stuck in this bed. 

It was quiet with the bustle behind the door. Alone, it left him with time to think. And without having papers to sift through, it left him only the itch from his stitches and the events of that night. How long he been in here anyway? A few hours? A day? All he knew was that it wasn’t the same frame as--

A pop reached his ears. Suddenly the dull thrum of the monitors seemed to go silent. A sharp peak reached his vitals before he curled his fingers. He huffed in and out. In and out. Slowly the thrum returned. And it was back to the quiet of before. He looked to the window out of his reach. Light peeked from behind the curtains. Yeah, it wasn’t night.

He knew that but he still wanted to check. He never knew. Moving away from the bed, the room seemed to rumble. His side stabbed against his organs as he moved to sitting up. The room started to sway and he braced against the sides of the bed. The needles poked him in protest. He panted as he gripped against the railings.

“Okay, out a little more than I thought,” he said, his throat scratchy. He waited for the wobbling to stop, closing his eyes to keep from getting nauseous. He opened them when he heard the door open. His fell onto a familiar face, “...Immi...?”

His mother stared at him, the same eyes as his spilled water across her already stained face. She rushed to his side, throwing her arms against him. “Habibi...” 

She dissolved in more muttering he couldn’t understand. Not just because she was sobbing into his shirt. Behind her was his dad but they weren’t alone. He could see someone in scrubs, probably a nurse. And then while their clothes and faces couldn’t tell him anything...he knew they were from the Bureau.

“Mr. Winterrose, you should rest more. You lost quite a lot of blood,” the nurse told him, moving to where he managed get a leg off to tuck it back in, “I don’t recommend walking around just yet.” 

“You heard her,” his mother chided, helping the nurse before she checked his bags and vitals. She took up a place at the side of his bed, her hand caressed his cheek before brushing back ashen locks stuck by sweat, “...we almost lost you.”

“...I’m sorry...” he said before a hand rested over his. He looked over to his dad that took his other side, “Just don’t go pushing yourself.”

One of those from the Bureau waited for the nurse to leave before they cleared their throat, “Excuse me for the disturbance but we have a few questions for you, Samir.”

“The boy’s been shot and you’re already interrogating him?” his father glared as he reached over Samir with his hand holding back his wife.

“It’s alright, dad, they’re just doing their job,” Samir told them. His held his arm to stop the trembling, “What would you like to know?”

“How did Elias Lazpiur get into the archives? Why were you two down there so late?”

He expected questioning but that didn’t stop his throat feeling drier or the gnawing at his innards, “Eli...as, he took my key card. He’d asked me about it earlier but I told him to get one from IT. And when it was gone, I thought he might have went there.”

“And you went after him alone?”

“...Yes,” he confessed, a blossom of shame for forgetting something as basic as telling where he was, “I thought that because we are.....were” were, he repeated in his head, “coworkers,” something more than that, “I...I could convince him to leave.”

That was a stupid mistake. It wasn’t like those dramas where the heart can overrule any loyalty. Why did he think it would’ve turned out differently? Why did he wish it turn out different?

“I see.”

“Excuse me,” Samir said before they could fire anything else, “......I don’t have much useful from the time leading up to our run-in but after I--” he swallowed air, “--I was shot, I managed to hear bits of a call he was making. He was talking to a Nystrom. I think to say that something went south.”

Their eyes widened, “Nystrom you say?”

“...Yeah, sorry, I think I passed out after that,” Samir said, “I think that’d be one to help more. And if you have any more questions, I’ll answer them. Later. I...I would like to be alone with my family, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, good work. We’ll be in touch,” they said before looking to his parents, who seemed to be hiding their terror and ire, “And Mr. and Mrs Winterrose, I meant no disrespect. I assure you, your son’s a hero for what he did and we pray for a swift recovery. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

They gave a sympathetic nod before exiting the room. Samir sunk back in the bed, his vitals slowing to a more relaxed pace, “...They came quicker than I thought.”

“Oh habibi...you shouldn’t have said yes. You look pale,” his mother said. Her touch quivered but her eyes held a knowing. It was needed. Then it softened with a soft tone, “...was it that Elias...?”

“......yeah it was.”

And that was all he would say on it. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. They exchanged glances. His dad said something about getting something better than whatever they were serving before leaving the room. His mom rather than question further, wrapped her arms around him again. This time she was more cautious of the wiring. Her warmth and frantic heart against his, he was still for a moment before he returned with what little strength he could muster.

[go-redgirl]

Washington Post Explains Why Some El Paso Survivors Support Trump breitbart ^

Since the El Paso and Dayton shootings, the media pushed the narrative that President Trump is to blame for the deaths of 31 people because his racist remarks. Most have featured survivors who are critical of the president. 

OPINION:  Because the Main-Stream Media is are liars and lies about everything concerning President Trump. If the Main-Stream Media Prints anything about President Trump thats negative, then its a lie.

National Public Radio tried to find Trump haters in El Paso and instead came face to face with Tito Anchondo, who lost his brother and sister-in-law. Anchondo said his brother and his whole family are Republicans and support Trump.

Now the Washington Post has profiled Anchondo: “Why one family mourning El Paso victims chose to meet with Trump” and embedded a video featuring people who refused to meet with Trump in Texas.

“Tito Anchondo wishes people would stop politicizing his family’s tragedy,” the Post reported before it proceeded with a political spin:

"Melania Trump posted a photo Thursday on Twitter showing the meeting with Tito Anchondo, his sister, Deborah Ontiveros, and the infant. In the photo, Melania holds the baby, while Trump smiles and gives a thumbs-up — an image that drew anger on social media. Some questioned why the infant was photographed with a leader whom some blame for inciting the violence that killed his parents."

But Anchondo strongly rejects that view of the shootings and said he did not want the photo to be seen through a political lens.

Anchondo praised Trump after he met with the president and first lady with his sister, Deborah Ontiveros, and his brother’s now-orphaned infant son, Paul.

“He was just there as a human being, consoling us and giving his condolences,” Anchondo said.

The president “wasn’t there to be pushing any kind of political agenda,” Anchondo said, describing “a private conversation between human beings.”

“Yes, definitely,” Anchondo said when the Post asked him if he felt consoled by his conversation with Trump.

(Excerpt) Read more at breitbart.com

____________________________________________________________________

INDIVIDUALS/COMMENTS/POSTS:

To: MarvinStinson

“Yes, definitely,” Anchondo said when the Post asked him if he felt consoled by his conversation with Trump. I know how editors feel. It hurt the poor WaPo editors to leave in that closing sentence.

2 posted on 8/10/2019, 8:38:32 AM by SamuraiScot (am) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: SamuraiScot They’ll change it. AOC will be calling them today.

3 posted on 8/10/2019, 8:40:56 AM by wastoute (Government cannot redistribute wealth. Government can only redistribute poverty.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: MarvinStinson

The only evidence that Trump is a racist is that the left keeps saying he is. They have never produced evidence. For that matter, they have never produced evidence of the white supremacy that they claim is rampant.

As for Trump inciting these lunatics to go on murder sprees, it is a very convoluted path that leads to this conclusion. The left keeps saying horrible things about Trump and his supporters. They keep piling on as they see it has no effect on normal people (who see through the lies). But whacky leftists absorb the rhetoric and internalize the message that anyone who does not promote socialism is a subhuman reprobate. And they get frustrated and decide that they are going to take care of the problem. Thus, their murder spree is Trump’s fault, since he stubbornly refuses to repent for standing up for freedom.

Let us not be fooled: the El Paso shooter was a whacky environmentalist who most likely believes the earth would be better off without humans. And he preferentially shot Hispanics because he is aware that they bring third world environmentally damaging customs with them when they set up shantytowns and basically live in their own trash (just like they did in their own countries). The bits of his manifesto that were publicized indicate that he is a leftist radical through and through.

4 posted on 8/10/2019, 8:44:38 AM by exDemMom (Current visual of the hole the US continues to dig itself into: http://www.usdebtclock.org/) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: exDemMom Democrats accuse their enemies of doing what they do and being as they are.

That is all they do, not one thing else.

Democrats are the racists of America.

Democrats are also the Nazis of America.

One need only observe what they say to others to know what they actually are.

5 posted on 8/10/2019, 8:51:03 AM by chris37 (Monday, March 25 2019 is Maga Day!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: chris37

Democrats are actually Democrat socialists. That makes them Dezis (det-zees).

Their policies and tactics bear significant similarity to those of 1930s Nazis. I hope we don’t see the similarities extend to early 1940s Nazi behavior.

6 posted on 8/10/2019, 8:57:09 AM by exDemMom (Current visual of the hole the US continues to dig itself into: http://www.usdebtclock.org/) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To: exDemMom “Their policies and tactics bear significant similarity to those of 1930s Nazis. I hope we don’t see the similarities extend to early 1940s Nazi behavior.”

I think we will. I think someone got the Nazi Handbook from Deutschland back in the day, and American radicals got a hold of it.

I do not doubt for one second that the American Left would round up all us Deplorables, put us in death camps, and torture us all to death if they could.

7 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:05:54 AM by chris37 (Monday, March 25 2019 is Maga Day!) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: MarvinS

White supremacy is to the left what Emmanuel Goldstein was to Big Brother in the book 1984. He was a symbolic boogeyman that didn’t exist. An invented threat to unite opposition. I am re-reading the book as it explains much of what’s happening now.

8 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:11:14 AM by Spok ( W) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: exDemMom

".... The only evidence that Trump is a racist is that the left keeps saying he is....they have never produced evidence of the white supremacy...." You nailed it.

The Left calls Trump derogatory names and expects the rest of the country to believe them.

What are Americans going to believe? The lying democRATS or their own eyes.

Americans, except of the radical Left socialist/commie ones, know President Trump is not a racist nor a white supremacist. They can see and hear for themselves that he is not anything like the Resistance and the media (but then I repeat myself), portray him to be.

The democRATS have cried "wolf" far too long and the American public are onto their game of name-calling without any evidence to back it up.

9 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:16:14 AM by HotHunt (Been there. Done that.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To: exDemMom Unfortunately, we’re already there. Case in point: The nouveau-trendy Anti-Semitism that has become pretty much a sacred cow that is above and beyond criticism amongst the so-called “progressives”.

It’s a pogrom in all but name.

10 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:16:50 AM by Kriggerel ("All great truths are hard and bitter, but lies... are sweeter than wild honey" (Ragnar Redbeard)) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: chris37 I do not doubt for one second that the American Left would round up all us Deplorables, put us in death camps, and torture us all to death if they could. Before the 2016 election, I saw a leftist troll commenting on a Fox News article (paraphrased): “I can’t wait until Hillary is elected and we can start rounding all you Deplorables up!” The sentiment is certainly out there. My main concern is how widespread is that desire to eliminate us. Leftist totalitarians have not historically needed majorities to impose dictatorships.

11 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:21:13 AM by exDemMom (Current visual of the hole the US continues to dig itself into: http://www.usdebtclock.org/) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: exDemMom WUT? You don’t have the ever growing list of tweets about ‘wet backs’ and crazy ‘n’ word comments he makes non stop? Yeah, me neither. And don’t forget the nasty comments about the lgbtqxyzqrst crowd too. And don’t get me started about the folks from India and Pakistan and his remarks about slurpees and stuff. I know the list is around here someplace.

Kinda starting to dislike a ‘hole’ lot of the media assclowns.

12 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:34:25 AM by rktman ( #My2ndAmend! ----- Enlisted in the Navy in '67 to protect folks rights to strip my rights. WTH?) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: exDemMom Well, “The Hunt” is scheduled for release pretty soon.

13 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:35:38 AM by rktman ( #My2ndAmend! ----- Enlisted in the Navy in '67 to protect folks rights to strip my rights. WTH?) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ To: MarvinStinson The answer to this mass murder problem is Constitutional Carry!

Good guys ‘n gals with guns will stop the bad guys MUCH faster than a 911 call!

I’m sending my senators and President Trump a short note to that effect.

Maybe some of these folks can use reason, logic and common sense to solve this problem.

HST, I AM skeptical that reason, logic and common sense will be evident in the coming weeks!

I fear that the hyper-partisan, anti-Second Amendment Inside the Evil Beltway mentality that so corrupts our “lawmakers” will cause some really unconstitutional and VERY dangerous laws to be written!

Nationwide Constitutional Carry is the best option for America!

14 posted on 8/10/2019, 9:39:13 AM by Taxman (We will never be a truly free people so long as we have the income tax and the IRS.) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: MarvinStinson The use of the term “racist” by any journalist immediately indicates that they no case.

Zip.

Zero.

Obama.

15 posted on 8/10/2019, 10:12:30 AM by Da Coyote (eh) --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: MarvinStinson If President Trump is responsible for mass shootings, then so are Elizabeth Warren (The Dayton killer was a supporter of hers) and Bernie Sanders (the baseball shooter is a supporter of his.)

If they’re not responsible, then neither is Trump.

So, lefties, pick your poison.

16 posted on 8/10/2019, 12:42:19 PM by TBP (Progressives lack compassion and tolerance. Their self-aggrandizement is all that matters.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To: MarvinStinson “Some questioned why the infant was photographed with a leader whom some blame for inciting the violence that killed his parents.”

Oh, sure. The president is supposed to change what he would normally do in these circumstances based on some crazy, B.S. Stalin-level propaganda from his political opponents? Right.

17 posted on 8/10/2019, 1:03:44 PM by FenwickBabbitt

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

[thefunksoldiers-blog]

The Lies He Told: Dave Buchansky’s Multitude of Deception and the REAL Reason Mayte Garcia Was Barred from the 2017 Anniversary Celebration

It was something discussed among Prince fans leading up to the 2017 Celebration that marked the one year anniversary of his passing: would Prince's first ex-wife, Mayte Garcia, show up? Would she answer questions about “that book”? And, would she be welcomed by Prince’s family and his other proteges and collaborators?

Two weeks prior to Celebration 2017, Garcia released a tell-all about her marriage to Prince that many saw as a money-making endeavor since she announced the release less than 4 months after his death. Prior to the release of the book, Mayte consented to a series of cover stories for People magazine, most with inflammatory headlines crafted to exploit all the salacious content and scandals possible. Garcia, who actively and proudly promoted these People posts on her Twitter account, would later send her friend to different social media sites to say the magazine, that is part of Time-Warner Books and owned/operated by Hachette Books---Mayte's publisher, blindsided her.  This was only after potential buyers expressed discontent that Prince was being labeled a “pedophile,” and “abuser.” A call placed to the magazine's PR department confirmed for us that Garcia was wholly aware of the different articles and the bylines disseminated publicly, and that she never expressed dissatisfaction at any time. Social media was mostly aghast and the Prince fan community was divided into two camps: pro-Mayte and anti-Book. These events are what fed speculation as to whether she would be in Minneapolis on April 21, 2017.

The truth is known in Minneapolis, according to a source close to the music scene “here, we've always known the truth about Mayte.” However, the public does not. According to that friend of Mayte's---Dave Buchansky, who rock journalist Lonn Friend described as Mayte's professional “tagalong”*, she wasn't going to the Celebration because of threats issued that compromised her safety.  Dave issued a statement shared across social media that said death threats to Mayte and her daughter would not allow her to travel there and that the local law enforcement was being kept abreast of the situation. He issued a similar statement in October 2016 after someone in an audience at an after party following the tribute show threw a bottle of water at her. The claim in April was not only untrue, but many who were instrumental in working the Celebration were unaware of any threats.  

This isn’t the first time Dave has fabricated contact with law enforcement in a pathetic attempt to overstate his importance in the world.  He has, in the past, said that he’s reported people to the FBI, to the police, etc., and fictional tales of swat teams with guns seizing upon the homes of people who do not speak with blind adoration for Mayte.  Dave watches way too many episodes of “Law & Order.” Law enforcement does not work that way, it is very procedural. Dave does not have that kind of power. People in the industry do not know who he is unless you say “Prince’s ex-wife’s best friend,” and even then, you get the Mariah Carey, “I don’t know her” response. Essentially, he is duping Mayte’s supporters and stirring them up into a frenzy based on nothing more than his say so.  But such is the case with truly emasculated men.

All it takes is a phone call to these agencies to learn that recently, Dave nor Mayte has filed any such complaint.  Reports are always filed in the state where the victim resides (in Mayte’s case, CA), not where the suspect resides (like Arizona where he claims to have reported someone in October 2016). What one may find is there is are reports on file bearing his name as the offender throughout the country because of his history of harassing people, particularly women, on Mayte’s behalf.  There is proof they exist, along with case numbers and the names of officers and detectives assigned to each case.  

If the charges Dave has leveled against people weren't so serious, it would be laughable because “threats on Mayte’s life” is the excuse he continues to use to justify the fact that people who were close to Prince don't like Mayte, not out of jealousy, but because she's not a good person; it's all show. Many on the inside did like her at one time and tried to include her, but her true self revealed a woman with a nasty attitude who allowed Dave to control her and her surroundings using the force of his body weight and not much else.  Some have observed that Dave has little respect for Mayte’s intelligence because if he did think she was a smart woman, he would have followed through in making sure the business affairs she left in his domain were complete and followed the letter of the law starting with the charity’s business in Florida.

Dave did not even file the annual report and $400 fee to the state of Florida to keep her charity in good standing there.  He acquired charitable status in FL for Mayte’s Rescue on December 23, 2014. Florida’s Attorney General dissolved the charity on September 25, 2015 due to this administrative oversight the Vice President of the charity (Dave) should have stayed on top of.  Surely, he will blame this on Anamaria Mendez, who is listed as an “agent”.  It is uncertain as to whether Mendez would defend any blame placed upon her or what her relationship is to Mayte and is she is in good standing with her.  Regardless of who he blames, the IRS invalidates the 501(c)3 status of any nonprofit not in good standing in any state.  So, even though Mayte posted two postcards of filings (and, yes, Mayte, you DO have to file a postcard under $50,000, they just don’t ask for the exact income amount), not being in good standing in Florida could invalidate her federal IRS tax-exempt status upon report, which would make it nearly impossible to register in CA until she cleared all of it up.  If she self-reports this discrepancy, she may just have to pay fines and the matter will go away upon registration in CA with DOJ (see CA DOJ FAQs).  If it is reported by others, she may not get it back without a long and expensive battle. If past behavior is a predictor of future behavior, Mayte, Dave and the rest of her “Get-A-Long Gang” will blame others and point fingers just as they have attempted to do with regards to the Celebration.

The real deal is that Mayte called up Kirk Johnson, whom she affectionately refers to as “Kirky J,” and asked him if she could set up a table to sell and sign her book to Prince fans at the Celebration. “Kirky J” basically told her, in more colorful language, “hell to the no, to the no, no, no!”  Whatever you may want to think about “Kirky J,” he was right in denying her that request.  Mayte wanted to turn the Celebration of Prince's life and music into her own purple paisley party to celebrate the release of her version of reality that doesn’t jive with the version she and Prince shared over the last 20 years.  Furthermore, it really wasn’t the place to peddle her goods. Yes, for the 89 millionth time, we know she was briefly married to Prince (although his marriage to Mani lasted longer; even his friendship with Denise lasted longer than his first marriage), and we know she gave birth to his only child that we are aware of. It does not bear repeating if she’s so confident about her place in the larger story of his life.

Sure some people don’t like Mayte or how she took the opportunity of Prince’s death to profit, but death threats? Perhaps there were, but like with the charity whose CA DOJ registration letter we still have yet to see (IRS 990 postcard is no substitution), we haven’t seen evidence of these threats, nor have we seen proof of the police reports Dave purports were filed. In fact, Dave has spent the last two days slandering various individuals, saying he has screenshots and proof. Again, laughable, but serious.   

If he has them, then show them!

Mayte fans should, especially, want him to post them if they are going to the wall to support her and even defame those they have been led to believe have victimized Mayte.  It is not that hard.  Someone who is lying feels they MUST continuously justify the lie, that’s clear sign that the truth is nowhere in sight.  The only person out there running their mouth is Dave. Forget all the double talk, back talk and over talking, Dave needs to stop talking! He’s been talking for years**. Show us the goods or go away! He needs to prove all of his accusations are true otherwise he is guilty of the same libel and defamation he says he is a victim of.  All the charges about Dave can be proven.  Dave has, on a popular Prince fan site, called him abusive, said he knew “for a fact” Prince broke the arm/hand of a former protege from the 80’s he claims to have spoken to (though she never met him or confided in him), said Prince was a drug addict, a drunk, and like Dave himself, a regular ecstacy abuser “for a fact” up through 1996. All of this has been on prince.org for more than a decade under the username “meltedman”.  Dave has even gone so far as to say he and “his boys” scared Prince out of a club because Prince showed up without a bodyguard and argued with Mayte. Really?! Have you ever seen Prince in photos travel without a bodyguard? Follow Dave’s insane logic for a minute: a 5’2” 120 lb. man who couldn’t even go to the mall without being chased was going to a club, at night, by himself and was going to go up against someone as big as Dave? In what realm of “alternative facts” is Dave living in?!

Dave uses lies and excuses to justify the childish and immature behaviors of a grown woman who refuses to take responsibility for her own life and own affairs apart from Dave.  If Dave wasn’t spending all his time obsessing over the goings on in Mayte’s life imagine what he could accomplish for himself in his own life: a career, a marriage, a family and children of his own.  But instead, he runs behind a middle-aged woman too engulfed in her fantasies to handle her own affairs and wastes endless hours, days and years putting out fires he starts (like not registering with CA DOJ, leaking her book) under the guise of being her representative and keeping Mayte helplessly dependent on him for everything---all of this is due to the lies he’s told. For Dave or even Mayte to say she wasn’t invited to the Celebration would be a total embarrassment for them both because it would call into question the validity of her book (see our previous posts that fact check the book’s content) and all she’s ever wanted us to believe (including the foolish notion that Prince was strung out over her until the day he died) is proven to be a figment of her distorted reality; a reality, that if abandoned, may also mean that she abandons her friendship with Dave.  And that is something that he just can’t have. 

Show the proof, Dave, or it didn’t happen!

* An excerpt from Lonn Friend’s book, Sweet Demotion

** Among Dave’s lies: he's a lawyer (attended several, but never graduated from college let alone law school), that he worked for Prince at Paisley (Prince didn't want him near his business and didn’t like him).

[chameleonspell]

181: communication

"I'm getting to that!" The molecrab turned a little too vigorously, and had to steady itself on the battlement while it re-aligned its eyeholes. "But prophecy's not simply a matter of... I'm just trying to... it's a complicated question! For example, what do you mean by 'truth'?" The squid didn't roll its eyes, as they were lidless lenses of pale violet crystal, but it rocked backwards with a derisive snort. "You're seriously asking me--" "No no no!" The crab shook rapidly, its muffled voice reverberating in tandem. "I don't mean in some guarshit philosophistical, black-is-white, nothing-is-real-so-you-can't-prove-me-wrong kind of sense, I just mean... prophecies come from dreams and visions, correct?" "Yeah..."

"But a lot of dreams are obviously nonsense, agreed? I'm not saying they're all nonsense - it's been argued fairly persuasively that dreams are one of the channels Aetherial spirits and Daedric entities can use to communicate with Mundus. I've also heard of someone claiming to be speaking from the Dreamsleeve, but I think that must be a misunderstanding, I don't see how a soul could survive intact in the Dreamsleeve. Anyway... while I can't imagine it's common, and I've certainly never had one, I'm willing to accept that inter-planar communication through dreams is possible. Communication. Which would be a true dream, up to a point, in that it's not completely created by your own mind. But simply being a valid communication from an Aetherial spirit, and especially not from a Daedra, still wouldn't guarantee that a prophecy was true, in the sense of, 'legitimately destined to happen'." "Look--" Seeing its attempt at interruption washed away like a twig in a tsunami, the squid sighed, and slumped against the stonework, nails scraping a nervy, not-quite-rhythm. "And this is still the case, if the spirit in question, or... all right, let's say Daedra. For the sake of argument, it's a Daedra. Even if we assume that this Daedra has legitimate knowledge of the future, through... Aetherial pan-temporal awareness, or whatever, debatable as that seems, given the ridiculous behaviour of most Daedra... even if... Oh, and if we assume that they're speaking in good faith - though gods know why anyone would assume that. But let's be charitable, let's allow, purely hypothetically, that Daedra can see future events, and communicate them accurately to their chosen faithful through dreams and visions--" "Hold on--" Another half-hearted interjection from the squid, doomed to failure, as the molecrab was hurtling unstoppably towards its emphatic crescendo. "None of that matters! Because here's the thing, it doesn't work that way! Prophecies can't ever be accurate, because by communicating the future, you're changing it! The future isn't fixed - look at the Elder Scrolls! Or, actually, don't! Don't ever look at the Elder Scrolls, because while they contain, allegedly, the past, present and future, they're inherently chaotic and mutable, and trying to understand them sends you blind! Reading them changes them, and changes you, and not for the better!" The molecrab threw up a hand. "As I understand it, anyway. This is all basic Mysticism, you'll have to petition the  Psijiics if you want something more onto... chrono... metaphysically precise." Julan pulled off the cephalopod helm and spat dishevelled strands of hair from his mouth. "Iya, I understood about three words of that through this blighted thing, but I wasn't arguing, only asking. We both agreed it was more important to come here and check on the Guild, than it was to search for that shrine to Azura again, so--" "Put that back on," snapped the crab, "you're a wanted man." "Maybe, but I'm also a hot, irritated man who can't breathe properly, and who thinks if we've walked into a trap, be it Temple or Camonna Tong, it's too late to avoid it now, and wants to die free." A short silence from the molecrab. "Fine," Iriel said, emerging, pink-cheeked, from the crabshell, "but we're putting them back on before we leave Wolverine Hall." Julan's Divine Intervention amulet had brought them to Sadrith Mora's Imperial fort. Camonna Tong no longer prowled its halls, as Imperial troopers refuse to tolerate that sort of thing indefinitely. However, from their current position on the highest battlement, Iriel and Julan could see thick clumps of Dunmeri figures lurking near the walls of Dirty Muriel's. The cornerclub windows were dark and still. Julan fidgeted. "We should just go. Whoever that priestess went to fetch, it can't be good." "Who should have kept their helm on downstairs, then? Gods, it's like you want to get arrested again. It might be my name on that list, but it's your physical description! But honestly, she was Imperial Cult. Unless you think she's buckling on her secret Ordinator armour, as we speak?" Julan smirked at the memory of the confused entry in the bounty list posted on the Fighter's Guild door. "Chasing white guar, the lot of them." One foot was shoving his bag to and fro across the tower-top. "I just can't deal with all this waiting, right now." "As opposed to the rest of the time, when you simply adore sitting arou--" "Sheogorath, give it a rest. You're having a good day for words, I see. Been saving them up?" "Yes. And possibly." Iriel's mouth twitched tight for a moment. "I feel like a flask of astroprasium carbonate solution." "Is that good?" "It's... fizzy." Now it was his eyebrow that twitched. "And salty, and hard to keep the cork in." Julan squinted over the battlement, gauging the distance to the cornerclub. "There's more of those fetchers down there than I've ever seen. You're sure you can't cast invisibility?" "I'm sure I don't want to try. The same way I don't want to try skooma, to see if I get re-addicted or not." He joined Julan in looking over the edge. "I might manage Slowfall." "Blighted hells, no! Maybe I can--" The trapdoor creaked, and they both spun around, but instead of a Tong glove, or an enamelled gauntlet, a willowy golden hand was lifting it. When a head of shimmering blond hair joined it, Ire recognised the Altmer evoker from the Mages' Guild, a floor below. "Iriel!" he cried, clinging to the ladder with his other hand, but still swaying from the exertion. "In Xarxes' own truth, I thought I heard your voice!" "You did," Ire admitted, ignoring Julan's triumphant expression, and his sotto voce, "Keep your helm on, Julan." "Iriel," the newcomer repeated, as he clambered gracelessly onto the tower-top, "do you not remember me? I am Helende's good friend, Tusamircil of Aspenreach." When Iriel continued to stare, he added, "She requested I lend you a pair of russula umbersilk anabreeches, once." He forced a tepid smile. "Oh." Ire said. "Yes. Thanks." He opened and closed his mouth a few times. "If you ever want them back, you'll have to help me get over to the cornerclub." Tusamircil's already arched brows shot higher. "Oh, no, my intention was quite the reverse! This is why Helende asked us to watch out for you! To tell you that you must certainly not return to the cornerclub!" "You spoke to her?" Julan demanded. "When? What's going on over there?" "I really couldn't say, but it all sounds terribly dangerous. But please wait one more moment, she left you a missive she believed would explain everything." With that, Tusamircil's head vanished again. When he reappeared a little later, he had a small, sealed scroll, which he handed up to them from his precarious position on the ladder. Iriel opened the seal, and sighed at the thief-code marks that greeted him. Julan remembered more than he did, though, and between them, they decrypted the following: Dear Iriel. And probably the other one, I suppose. Very well, Julan, no hard feelings now. It's time to move on, in all possible ways. We can't hold out here any longer, but we can give the old place a good send-off. If Dren wants to send an army, we'll throw a surprise party for them. There's going to be cake. It's made of all sorts of alchemical horrors, and M is "baking" it in the furnace, as I speak[crossed out] write. E has rigged the entire place with trigger-spells. He's making it look like his traps outside are failing, but it's a ruse, to draw them in. It's almost time for tea, but you mustn't come join us for this one. The others are already gone and safe. Getting the guar out quietly wasn't easy, though still easier than C. But once it was clear S wouldn't leave without P, P wouldn't leave without B, and B wouldn't leave without C, there was only one solution. They've all gone to S's camp. B obviously still fallen from S's starry heights, but once she (to her great irritation I might add) couldn't bring herself to kill him, she found there was considerable profit in his attempts to make up for it. So it goes. Not my summon-circle, not my scamp-fight, as they say. If you read this and the club is still standing, then get clear, fast. It won't be long, and if all goes well, Dren will be livid. There should be enough corpses in there for them never to guess who, if any of us, escaped. Don't give them evidence otherwise. M&E are staying until the end, to ensure everything goes off. I'm trusting E to get M out in time, so they better not get any silly ideas from those ghastly novels the two of you are so keen on. My ride will be along shortly. Not sure what's next, but you can contact me through T in Tel Mora, once the dust's settled. That's my last order: stay in touch. This may be the end of the Guild on Vvardenfell, but we're still family. For now, though, lay as low as you can. Almost forgot. Another letter arrived for you. You'll want to read this one, I think. Much love, H. Iriel looked at Tusamircil. "Another letter?" "I imagine it must be in here." The mage hauled something else up the ladder, with obvious difficulty. Julan helped him get it onto the tower-top: a sack. In it was a selection of Iriel's possessions, skimmed hurriedly from his attic room. "No time!" Julan caught Ire's arm, as he began investigating the contents. "You saw what she wrote, we have to go!" He ran to the battlements again. "Was the cornerclub chimney smoking like that, before? We have to get to the docks!" He rounded on Tusamircil. "You mages teleport people! Can't you send us somewhere better than one of your blighted guildhalls, in a city full of guards?" Tusamircil's chin jerked upwards. "While not a guild-guide myself, I am married to one, and in frequent conversation with many arcane specialists among my friends and colleagues in the Summerset expatriate community. As I understand it, the limitation of destinations to licensed locations is rigidly enforced, for extremely--" "Hey," Iriel was glaring at him, frowning. "Were you the loose-tongued jizzbiscuit who told so many people I was here, that my fucking ma found out?" Tusamircil swallowed. "I'll fetch my wife." Iniel of Rillowbeck's violet eyes were as round as the rillow-blossoms that cover the banks of the stream, running from her home-town to nearby Lillandril. "Can you really be suggesting I transport you along..." she licked her lips and dropped her voice "...unregulated channels?" "Yes," Iriel said, flatly. Her long lashes fluttered as she blinked, thoroughly scandalised. "Impossible! Even if it were permitted, it's much too great a distance. When there's no receiving chamber to focus the--" "As far as the docks, then!" "I can't! It's too close to Tel Naga and the Council Hall! If the Telvanni detected illicit teleportation, I could lose my licence!" "Well, you have to get us out of here somehow! The pair of you owe me for spilling my location to my ma and her poison-pen!" "I..." She faltered, playing with a loose strand of scarlet hair. "It's extremely valuable, so I confess I'm reluctant, but I do have a scroll of win--" "Yes!" Iriel was suddenly animated, almost glowing with excitement. "That. Give me that, please. Now, as in, very immediately, yes." next: 182: apology previous: 180: here beginning: 1: numb

[one-shoop]

I just had basically a panic attack or whatever over my dad calling for dinner. Oh but who would guess being singled out by a scream "FLOOOOOF! COME EEEAT!" every freaking night and told "COME ON HONEY" and "DID YOU HEEEEAR?" "FLOOOOOF?" "FLOOOF? ANSWEEEER?" doesn't give me, the girl who's terrified of eating to the point where she skips meals almost everyday, panic attacks. Dear god i cant freaking eat dad, I CANT EAT BECAUSE IT TRIGGERS MY GODDAMN OCD. But nooooooo. Apparently nobody bothered to ask me my triggers or even do some research after my diagnosis. And forgive me lord if Im not enthusiastic about explaining it myself becase EVERY GODDAMN TIME I TOLD SOMEONE THEY FORCED ME TO DO IT ANYWAYS. Told me "but the food is gooood" and "come oon, you need to eeeeeat" like i stg i'm so fucking tired

Of people telling me for an hour and a half to come fuck myself over with triggers and panic all the way and not be able to eat and be ashamed of myself and feel weak and unable to do anything. Like Jesus guys IT TRIGGERS MY OCD. MEANING THAT I CANT FUCKING EAT PEACEFULLY. I SONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK IF ITS GOOD OR NOT. ITLL SCARE ME TO FUCKING HELL.

And yeah, for supportive parents they sure are doing the fucking lords job right? After fucking up myself to ask fir help thar never vame and was always denied or stripped to its bare minimums then told to accept that as tje ultimate help, I finally ficking tet someone who validates me and gives me a diagnosis. Ans yoy funky get fuckjng told to your faces that FORCING KIDS TO FACE THEOR FEARS IS THE WORST THING FOR THEIR HEALTH. And MAYBE if you knew anything at fucking all you'd fucking realize that when I HAVE NEVER ASKED FOR HELP OUT OF FEAR OF BEING SHAMED FOR IT, maybe is your fault???? And maune it impedes on mh recovery???? And maube i shouldn't be the only one to fucking take stepd to retake that???? Im all foe fu king getting the help I gucking need but for fucks sake cant any of you look like you can more for, I dunno, fucking parenting, other than whatever fycking meal you're having???? Is it roo kuch to ask to help me retake my right to asking for the hospital since its been mentioned at that same fucking meeting we talk about that I've tried asking for goddamn help and you said no????

Like you had a goddamn professional tell you that WHEN YOUR KIDS WANT HELP, YOU CANT DENY IT. And that by pretending that I jad to tough it up, you fucked me up way more. And thw most I got was a half assed sentence of "BUT IM PLACING ALL THE BLAME ON MYSELF, ITS UNHEALTHY" as fucking soon as the goddamn bells rang.

Like you had the nerve to ACXUSE ME of NOT asking for help and fucking NOT telling you anything. Ans believe it or not I STILL FUCLING THOUGHT THAT about a second ago. But honestly? WHY THE FUCK SHOULD ANULNE BE HONORABLY FORCED TO ASK FOR HELO THAT TJEU KNOW WILL NEGER VOME??? JUST SO YOU CAN SAY I WAS THE PERFECT VICTIM WHO STILL BELIEVED IN YOU???? BECAUSE AFTER ALL THIS CRAP, AFTER BEING TOLD THE TRUTH, THE FIRS TTHING IM TOLD WHEN WE GET OUT IS THAT I NEED "TO TRUST YOU MORE"? AND "TELL YOU ABOUT MY FEELINGS?" am I someone's fucking puppet here??? Do you just want ro ficking play with me until youre done?????

Like what the fuck???? YOU THOUGHT I "DID THE WRONG THING" BY NOR ASKING COR HELP. BUT YOU SONS OF DEMONS, YOU HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN YOUR PHILOSOPHY WAS THAT FUCKED UP PIECE OF MENTALITY FROM THE GODDAMN FARK AGES THAT YOU NEED TO TELL YOUR KIDS TO FUCK OFF. OKAY??? YPU KNEW THAT ENOIGJ TO EXPLAIN IT IN BARF-INCUDING CLARITY HOW APPARENTLY ONE SINGLE GUCKING BOOK ON ANXIETY IN KDIS WAS ENOUGB TO RID YOU OF YOUR ENTIRE HUMAN BRAIN AND SUDDENLY IT DIDNT MATTER HOW MUCH WE CRIED AND BEGGED AND GELT ALONE AND NEEDED YOUR SHIR COMFORT, TOU DIDNT CARE???? WELL FUESS WHAT???? THE FIRS TTHING YOU TELL ME WHEN SHE SPEAKS, BLESS THWT DOCTIR, IS THAT I DONT EVEN ASK FOR HELP. and bless me I told them YO I ASKED FOR THE HOSPITAL AND YOU TOLD ME I WASNT SICK ENOUGH. AND YOU BOTH HAD THE GODDAMN MIND TO REFUTE IT. UNTIL MOM TOLD DAD TO STOP BEXAUSE "SHES RIGHT, ITS OUR FAULT, OUR BAD".

Like what the fuck??? Tou already knew that you wouldn't have given any help anyways??? Why the fuck am I even supposed to fucking ask??? Why did you EVER tell me to ask??? Was ir so you could feel fucking welcome??? So you could feel so fucking badass and awesome telling me the goddamn word of light exquisite and God Almighty in his tree in heaven that "FIND AOLUTIONS AND STOP CRYING"???? OR, NO, WAIT, EZCUSE ME, WAD I SUPLOSED TO COME SEE YOU SO YOU COULD PEP-TALK ME INTO FUCKING OFF FROM FEELINGS LAND AND "FIND SOLUTIONS"??? Did you want to feel like you gave me comfort without actually giving me some??????

Like what the fuck???????????? And -- why the FUCK foes it STILL appear smart tp tell me to fucking TELL YOU SHIT? GUYS I TOLD TOU MORE SHOT I WAS LEGALLY ONLIGATED TO. YOU CAME TO MEET MY THERAPISTS. YOU GOT THE BRIEFINGS WITH ME WHEN I INVITED YOU. YOU GOT TO SEE MY PSYCHIATRIST, AND MY DOSSIER, AND MY MEDS. I TOLD YOU I NEEDED A LISTENING EAR AND NOT AFVICE, I TOLD YOU I FELT SCARED SOMETIMES OF EATING, I TOLD YOU ABOUT MY OBSESSIONS, I ASKED YOU IF I COULD GO TO BE HOSPITALIXED BECASUE OCD GOT TOO BAD.

And you laughed at my fuccking obsessions. When i was a kid my biggest trigger was barfing, and bile. And guess fucking what? You fucking laughed around and invented the worst fucking single thing ever to say "fuck you get better" which was switching the goddamn syllables together and fuckinf singing it to me like it was fine now. Fucking laughing at me whenever ai had goddamn panic attacks. I diagnosed my own goddamn trigger at, what, ten? BUT I NEGER ASKED FOR HELP BECAUSE YOU FUCKINF LAUGHED AT ME EVERYTIME I CLOSED MY EYES AND MY EARS AND PANICKED TO CHANGE THE TOPIC. I WAS FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE. I COULD NOT BEAR IT. AND WHEN YOU SAW A TERRIFIED CHILD, YOU SID NOTHING EXCEPT LAUGH AND SAY "there, now they're done with talking, tou can stop closing your ears now". YOU FUCLING NOTICED JN THE WORST WAY POSSUVLR. I REGRET SHOWING YOU THE FIRST ENTRY I MADE ON THIS. I WAS SO ASHAMED OF IT. I THOUGHT IT EAS WRONG. OR SHAMEFUL. AND -- GUESS WHAT? I THOUGHT IT WAS YNIQUE TO MEZ TOO. IT WA THE SINGLE MOSR SCARY TJING IN MY EXIDTENCE. MY CHEST BURNED AND SQUINTED AND I FELT JOT AND I CRIED AND VRIED AND BEGGED AND YELLED IN MY HEAD FOR PEOPLE TO STOP, IN THE BUS, AT SCHOOL, AT HOME. AND IF YOUD BEEN SLIGHTLY GIOD AT YOUR FUCKINF JOB I MOGHT HAVE TOLD YOU FUVKASSES. BHT NO. AND GUEDS WHAT? UNLESS WHST YOUVE FUCKING TOLD ME, BEING IN PAIN IS NOT ONLY VALID OR UNSHAMEFUL WHEN YOU ASK ADULRS WHAT TO DO. FOR HOW FUCLING LONG HACE I BEEN TOLD THAT PAIN DOESNT MATTER UNLESS AN ADULT IS ON THE CASE? HOW LONG HACE U WANRED SOMEWHRRE WHERE GODDAMN ADULTS DIDNT FUCK YOU OVER? DIDNT CONTR EVERY THOUGHT YOH HAD? WHERE SAYING "YOURE WRONG" ISNT AN INSULT? WJERE KIDS ARENT JUST DENIED A COICE BECAUSE THEYRE KIDS?

Ughhhhh.how many times should I get convinced that your help is worth crap? That searching for your goddamn advice and "comfort" is of any goddamn help? That what shit you give me is actually good enough?? What this it worth my time? That I should be looking at myself??? That i should be squinting and hating myself???? That I'm not worth saving??? That -- goddamnit. God fucking samn jt. Goddamnit im so done with all these excuses. I'm so fucking -- I wanted help, I wanted love, I wanted excuses and loce and light and fear and farkness and friends and family and I cant even talk anymore. I cant talk from myf eeljngs anu.kre. I have ti go on goddamn instinct because my goddamn vortex is fucked up. I realize I eas incpaable of having a mental nature by myself at 8. When I eas alone, I couldn't feel anything. I felt aimless, I just felt nothing. I couldnt bring myself to feel anything. I ducking mtocied that, and yes, tou noticed to, but your goddamn reaction was to tell me to get a life and stop obsessing about that friend I used to play with and just learn to do shit myself and do shit on my own. (Basically, to my own stupid ass brain, this trainwreck of a sentence means I was like a kid who needed autonomy from their parents and needed to learn their life was their own.) Bur yeah!!!! Whenever I was alone I didnt give a shit!!!! I felt aimless!!! Lost!!! Shitty!!!!! And when I first saw myself as a disgusting hump of crap I was 10, I wss running happily and sang a song about witches ans I saw myseld in my head and god I looked like garbage and I hated it. I hated what I looked like. I resented the idea that people had to see me. I thought, why do people even stay with me, I'm disgusting. I can never pinpoint the reason becauee yes, my brain is that fucked-up. Someday it will be back.

But seriously. Does anyone else have old stores from early teens where everyone kept fuclibg Escalon without telling their parents?where kids didnt go home? Where the bes tthi g ws just leaving forever? Anyone think the second arc of Warriors was the bestBEXAUE THEY LEAVE and you KNOW they'll leave and you KNOW things are always better and sorry Leafpaw bur I hated tour arc like goddamn shit itself because SCREW THE CLANS, I hate them and I wanted ro leave anywhere that ft like home.

What do kids feel about their homes? Do fhey ever wish they moved? Do they ever seriously ask themselves why the fuck anyone would want to live here? Do they find it unnapealing? Are you supposed go be HAPPY to come home after a trip? Are you supposed to feel completely shitty from coming back, like a failure? Like you weren't supposed to come back, you were supposed to stay awau forever?

Did any kids have zero track of time? Did any kids watch old videos from babytime and realize that there's just something fucking terrifying about it without knowing fucking why?

I saw a kid watch a video on repeat of her dad doing something random like, an old baby recording from when the kud was running in the hallway and he caught her. She watched it on repeat for so, so long , until her phone stopped working I think. And i Remember being touched in a way I neger knew possible, and telling myself from the top of my ripe old 13th year, well thars not something ive ever done or wanted to do. I remember going, why the fuck would you do that? Aren't you happy hes gone? Aren't you happy to be gone?

I remember being straight terrified of my paternal grandmother at 5 only to realize yeara later that she used to be violent and terribly abusive to everyone. I remember being terrified of my aunt's husband, and feeling something undescribable that felt lile a stabbing wound in my aunt's eyes, until I finally learned that he used to beat her. I remembwr hating Éric Salvail for some reason and being really u comfortable around him until BAM, guess who was a goddamn creep and sexual harrassment pro? This guy. I remember so many fucking things that made me uncomfortable and it turned out to be right, about people at least.

But I remember hating my own picture for as long as I can remember. My face unsettles me. I never fully write why, or go to the end of my thoughts. I have problems, I know. I hope knowing what they are will help.