#My Very Own Tower Strategy Guide

[pngin-lvr]

You know, if I had a nickel for every time fandom shipped a non-regressor MC with a secondary character who is a regressor, I'd have 3 nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened 3 times.

[weaselandfriends]

The Making Of: When I Win the World Ends

(For my previous Making Of post, see The Making Of: Cleveland Quixotic.)

I. 1999

It was the year of the cubicle movie. It was the year of Fight Club, of Office Space, of Being John Malkovich, of Three Kings, of The Matrix, and of American Beauty. It was the year of suburban malaise, of eternal sunshine, of ceaseless normality. A year of United States hegemony; a year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.

Before the millennium turned and the towers fell, there was an initial challenge to this order, a completely inconsequential one made consequential by a newly minted 24/7 news media machine running out of noise to fill dead air now that people were sick to bursting of the Clinton impeachment. This challenge came not through war, revolution, or violence, but through entertainment. Children's entertainment.

And I was a child. Unaware of any cultural context, I knew only one thing: I loved Pokémon. I really, really loved Pokémon.

I owned Red Version, Blue Version, Yellow Version, Pokémon Pinball, Pokémon Stadium, Pokémon Snap, Hey You Pikachu, a Pokémon Tetris sort of puzzle game, even the Pokémon TCG game for Gameboy. I had ten to fifteen strategy guides for the games, an encyclopedia of the 151 Pokémon, a choose your own adventure book, an I Spy-style book. I had Pokémon figurines, Pokémon plushies, toy Poké Balls, toy Pokédexes. I had Pokémon stamps and Pokémon stickers and a deck of Pokémon cards. Not trading cards, just a standard 52-card deck with Pokémon pictures on it. Of course I also had the trading cards. A complete set of the first three runs, plus a special Mew card you could get from I dunno Toys R Us or something as part of some promotion. I had a guide for the card game that explained which cards were good or bad even though I didn't even play the card game. I had a Pokémon Tamagotchi and Pokémon pencils and Pokémon erasers and Ash Ketchum's hat and I dressed up as Ash Ketchum for Halloween. Of course I watched every episode of the anime, and in notebooks I drew doodles of existing Pokémon and came up with names for new Pokémon. My father had died that year.

My father was a sports fanatic. Traditional sports. He, too, collected. Sports memorabilia, baseball cards, figures of famous stars. When I was an infant, he drove me on a cross country road trip to Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where I became a part owner of the Green Bay Packers. He had always wanted me to grow up and pursue professional sports. When I was born, the doctor apparently said to start looking for football colleges, a quote he saved in a scrapbook of baby photos. He had played sports himself, in college; he was a baseball catcher, until a hitter accidentally struck him in the head with a full force swing.

Almost everything I personally remember about him involves him dying. He was sick for a long time, and I remember hospitals and hospital beds and strange smells and gauze. And then one day my mother told me he died.

He was a charismatic man, very social and very popular. He had many friends and a lot of family, all of whom had constantly been around our house. Once he was gone, they stopped coming around. Then it was just me and my mother, who was not a fanatic for anything, except maybe her job as an elementary school teacher, which consumed her time as she assiduously prepared lesson plans and graded tests until late at night. When my father died, she got into some argument with his side of the family, the details of which I still don't fully understand, and afterward they no longer spoke. Her own family lived far away, out-of-state, seen only at Christmas. The house became quiet.

And I… played… Pokémon.

II. The Electric Tale of Pikachu

Toshihiro Ono was a mangaka primarily known for shotacon and futanari hentai. His credits such as Innyou Megami and Anal Justice made him a no-brainer pick for the officially licensed Pokémon manga, Electric Tale of Pikachu, as it too would feature a 10-year-old boy as the protagonist.

This manga would be the foundation for my conception of what Pokémon was, narratively. Though I also had the Pokémon Adventures manga that ran concurrently and which has by now long outlasted it, Electric Tale left a significantly deeper imprint on my memory.

In summary, Electric Tale is a retelling of the first two seasons of the anime. Ash Ketchum is the main character, he's accompanied by Misty and later Brock, his rival is Gary, and Team Rocket harangues him.

What sets Electric Tale apart is its tone, which is far more adult than Adventures and the anime. Obviously, part of this comes from the author's primary area of expertise being hentai. Even in the censored English version, there is a sense of sexual playfulness in how every single female character is an older woman who likes to tease Ash about his romantic interests.

But there are other elements that creep in unrelated to sex, due to the perspective of someone only used to speaking to adults who suddenly has to speak to children. Ono doesn't really get the childish fantasy of leaving at 10 being normal in society, so he introduces an element where Ash can only get a one year deferment from school and will have to return unless he hits it big. Team Rocket are former competitive hopefuls who flamed out and then, with no education or work experience to speak of, had no choice but to turn to crime. The Pokémon are depicted more realistically, often eschewing the toyetic mascot elements of their designs.

And the landscapes are often wistful, even apocalyptic in their presentation:

This more sedate, mature, realistic depiction of Pokémon became what I wanted Pokémon to be, what I projected onto an original Red and Blue version that left everything open to interpretation, and what would increasingly frustrate me with the series as it deviated more toward bombastic villain groups with goofy destroy-the-world plots. (Which was what put me off Pokémon Adventures.)

Amid all this, one panel stuck with me in particular. One panel I would think about ever since I first saw it as a child, that would turn around in my head and keep coming back. That panel would eventually—over two decades later—become the basis for When I Win the World Ends, the seed from which an entire story grew:

III. The Unkillable Demon King

But in the interim, the seed remained dormant. 1999 fell away. I grew up. I played later Pokémon games and increasingly lost interest by around Gen 4 and 5. Then I went to college.

That's when I started playing League of Legends.

I was something of a psychopath in college. I operated on a strict schedule and did not deviate. Wake up, read 50 pages of classic literature, write 2,000 words, go to classes, study, and then by about four in the afternoon all my obligations were done and it was League of Legends until midnight.

I wasn't actually interested in the League of Legends esports scene in its infancy. In 2012, I was actually invited to attend its World Championship in Los Angeles and refused. (When I received this invitation, I had just finished reading Homestuck for the first time, and was caught in a month-long haze in which I could do little but bask within what I considered the greatest artistic achievement I'd seen in my life. It was this month that inspired Modern Cannibals.) I only liked playing the game and watching Dunkey videos.

It wasn't until the next year, when a girl I was interested in recommended I watch, that I tuned in to my first professional League of Legends game, at the 2013 World Championship. It was there that I got to watch this new, hyped, upcoming Korean player who had apparently taken the pro scene by storm that season. That player was Faker.

It has seemingly become essential to the narrative of any sport that there is "the man who always wins." American football has Tom Brady, and the moment Brady retired, he was replaced by Patrick Mahomes. Basketball has LeBron James, picking up the mantle from Michael Jordan. It's as if someone being "the best" validates the skill-based promise of the sport, the fundamental top-down fairness of its premise, the idea that the person who wins is the best and deserved it. Faker would become the backbone of League of Legends esports and his ascendance correlated to that of the sport itself, from its humble roots at small-scale tournaments in places like Jönköping, Sweden, to max capacity arenas in the biggest cities in the world.

It's surprising, though, how the legend of Faker had already begun even before he won his first World Championship. League of Legends was designed as a clone of Defense of the Ancients (DotA), a popular mod for Warcraft III that emphasized competitive play. In its infancy, the competitive scene was mostly dominated by players who had migrated from DotA to League. They were older, winning thanks to a fundamental conceptual understanding of the game that was superior to everyone else, and frankly not very good in the aggregate. As League of Legends esports exploded in popularity from 2013 to 2015, these old pros would get filtered out swiftly, with even the biggest and most popular names retiring after only a couple of years in the scene.

Even once the new generation of League-grown talent ascended, though, careers were nasty, brutish, and short. The best players only remained on top for a season, as game patches dramatically changed viable strategies. Internationally the sport was dominated by Koreans, with the Korean regional league sometimes being seen as more difficult to win than the World Championship, where Koreans often breezed through uncompetitive Chinese, European, and North American squads.

This possibly affected the demographics of the professional scene. South Korea has mandatory military service, and leaving the pro scene to join the military was basically the end of a Korean player's career. This meant that it was rare to see a Korean player older than 25. Retiring in your early 20s was and remains common. Korean organizations, which had an infrastructural leg up on other regions due to the popularity of StarCraft 2 esports in the country, became adept at scouting promising players at 15 or 16, building them into top level competitive pros, wringing them dry for a few seasons with brutal training regimens, and spitting them out.

Faker was the exception. Though he had been discovered young by SK Telecom, a major Korean telecommunications company that did esports on the side, and gone through the training regimen, he refused to be spit out. He simply didn't stop. He won in 2013, then with a completely new four-man squad around him won again in 2015 and 2016 before narrowly losing the 2017 finals in a nail biter. Given League of Legends esports had only existed since 2011, he basically accounted for half of the championships up until that point. Nobody else, except for his teammates, had won more than once. And it was like it was known he would be this juggernaut the instant he manifested ex nihilo. Like it was known, even in 2013, that he would always win.

Then, Faker stopped winning.

By 2017, League of Legends esports was a titan. Venture capital firms, seeing the millions of eyeballs, thought that this was the next NBA in its infancy, and decided to get in on the ground floor. Multiple millions of dollars were pumped into the scene as even mediocre players in weak regions like North America pulled seven-digit salaries. In China, where League of Legends had become the national pastime, the nation's richest oligarchs ran teams for fun and vanity, outbidding Korean organizations for top Korean players in pursuit of a trophy that had gone to Korea every year since 2013. Riot, the studio developing the game, pumped tons of money into creating a professional sports product, with skilled announcers, dedicated arenas for regional leagues, live performances by musicians like Imagine Dragons and Lil Nas X, and all the other bells and whistles one might expect from a program watched on ESPN.

In this milieu, it seemed like Faker had finally reached his limit. He was still good, but not the best. Even as an individual, while everyone still considered him the "greatest of all time," he was considered outmatched by newer pros like Chovy and ShowMaker. 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 passed with no championships. In 2022, on a team of mostly rookies, he reached the world finals, but was ultimately beaten. Korea's stranglehold over the sport had been shaken by China, which had finally strung together some championships. People wondered if Faker would retire, although he had managed to avoid mandatory military service by representing Korea in the Olympics-esque Asian Games. He'd dealt with wrist injuries and his level of play dropped year over year. He just didn't seem to be that good anymore, potentially holding back his team of talented young players rather than leading them to victory.

Then, in 2023—

And in 2024—

In the end, never count out Touchdown Tom. 11 years of professional play, 5 world championships.

From this longwinded explanation, you might have realized that after watching that game in 2013, I became a League of Legends esports fanatic, fulfilling the prophecy set before me by my father though perhaps in not the way he would have expected.

And the things I become a fanatic about, I want to write a story about.

IV. Modern Cannibals

There's a deleted scene in Modern Cannibals, as Maximillion is driving Z. and her friends through the Utah desert. He starts to talk about Pokémon.

"I bring it up because my university thesis was about Pokemon in particular how Pokemon has basically trained an entire generation of children to think in a completely different way than preceding generations my generation for instance our fad was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles now I don't know how much you know about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles but from an educational standpoint we're talking absolute bankrupt complete and utter goose egg but Pokemon now Pokemon you see it's more like there's some substance to it you know that refrain Gotta Catch Em All right?" "..." "Well to most parents it looks like a marketing gimmick you make one hundred fifty-one characters and structure a game around collecting them the merchandising potential is astronomical kids buy one hundred fifty-one trading cards stickers coloring books figurines uh collectable lunchable toys I'm sure you've got some yourself."

He continues:

"But really you look at the game itself before the big toy explosion the game itself the focus is placed less on the collection and more on the catalogue you're given a blank encyclopedia to fill and you fill it by capturing one hundred fifty-one Pokemon but the goal is to create a complete database of each and every one and this is what I argue is the educational core of the Pokemon series." His hands left the wheel to conceive of his idea in the cool air of the car, which remained steady on its ever-forward path. "Our modern era is no longer one of singular isolated knowledge it is one of the catalogue the database which is most clearly personified in the advent of the internet because now all knowledge can be at the fingertips of any one human being all that is needed is someone to go and put the catalogue together and presto whiz bang it's there think about it Z. when you catch a bunch of Pokemon where do you store them?" Z. didn't need to think long to remember the game's mechanics. "In the PC." "Exactly now isn't that odd consider it in real life terms you have real life creatures made assumedly of flesh and bone and yet you store them in a computer how does that make sense you'd expect a farm or a holding pen but no it's the computer and that too prepares the budding portion of the millennial generation to become cognizant of the linkage between the computer the encyclopedia and the database structure of knowledge in a new era." "So," said Z. "So you're saying Pokemon taught kids how to think in the digital age?"

There's also a deleted character in Modern Cannibals. Well, mostly deleted—he still shows up, unnamed, in a couple of pages. He is Cole Coulter, Z.'s older brother, a popular League of Legends streamer. Before I deleted him, his role was to accompany Mrs. Roddlevan and Frederick in an attempt to bring Z. back home. He had POV scenes that gave insight into the weirdness of his cotravelers, but ultimately, I decided he didn't add anything to the story and removed him almost entirely.

Even then, though, I was already considering the future of Cole Coulter as the protagonist of a story about League of Legends esports. Playing under the ID MadKing, he would be a North American professional top laner, once known for his aggressive duelist style but recently forced into playing boring tanks as the esports metagame became more sophisticated and tactics-based.

The story would be simple, something I envisioned as a "sports story" only about esports instead of regular sports. It would start with Cole's team being relegated from the league, only for Cole to get a last chance signing to a new team with two promising Korean imports. One import, the mid laner, would be a charismatic and eccentric player in the mold of Doinb/Ganked By Mom/Huhi, while the other, an AD carry, would be introverted and pissy and elitist, in the mold of Piglet. The team would initially struggle, cultures would clash, then a mid-season replacement to sign a psychopathic Tyler1/Tarzaned style streamer as jungler would revitalize the team, put them on a major run, and get them to the World Championship. Though they would eventually fall after a miracle run, Cole would get a moment to truly shine on the biggest stage when he won a pivotal game by aggressive split pushing rather than tank play.

Thematically, the story would be about two things. First, a counterpoint to the idea of American exceptionalism, featuring a league where Americans are particularly bad compared to Korean or Chinese players. Second, an exploration of what it means to be exceptional at all. Cole would be an all-around mediocre person. Middling at school, at (real) sports, at the various popularity contests of being a teenager. League of Legends, this niche sub-sport, is the one thing he truly excelled at, the one place where he was good, better than 99.9 percent of all players, and yet even within that statistical greatness he wound up, ultimately, in a professional scene where he was once again mediocre, relegated to "tank duty," to facilitating other players to carry.

What does it mean to be the best? How can someone be so, so good, only to reach a level where they were still nothing special? Is there any way to win if you're not "the man who always wins"?

I remembered that panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu. The last people filtered before the final champion. It's certainly no walk in the zoo!

This idea was pretty detailed for a story I never wound up writing, something I mostly blame on the years 2018 and 2019, when a lot of bad things happened to me and in retrospect I consider it a minor miracle I managed to finish Chicago at all. As a human being, I would be decimated for the next three years, and so a lot of stories I might have written in that time never came to fruition.

Meanwhile, League of Legends esports reached a peak, then the venture capital bubble burst as investors realized there was no monetization scheme in place for any interested party except Riot Games. Money hemorrhaged out, Riot shifted resources to Valorant, and a sport that had been overinflated based on projected exponential growth in perpetuity fell back down to earth.

Also, Players came out.

Players was a 2022 mockumentary about a fictional League of Legends team competing in the North American league. Conceptually, it was doing a lot of what I had planned for my story: following a single team on a rags-to-riches run, focusing on the interpersonal drama of the team members, asking questions about greatness and its pursuit. It's a pretty good show if you're familiar with League of Legends esports at all, with a lot of on-the-ground fidelity that gives it an authentic feel, which is exactly what I had been hoping to use my esports fanaticism to accomplish. It completely took the wind out of my sails; it was like my idea had already been done.

So by 2022, the idea of a League of Legends esports story was dead. But there was still a drive to create something with that spirit, that would delve into those themes.

What remained after all these years of sifting the sieve, letting sand slip through, was that one panel from the manga. The number of people pursuing greatness slowly filtering until only one remained. And if I wasn't going to pursue that idea through League of Legends, maybe I could pursue it through another vehicle. Maybe the vehicle through which the idea had originally been exposed to me. Pokémon. It all came back to Pokémon.

V. Everything Evolving Into Crabs

I knew immediately that if I were to write a Pokémon fic, it would be a tournament arc. This was the natural evolution of my esports story idea. Also, if I were to write Pokémon, I wanted it to be a story about utopia, immersed within Pokémon's near-future ideal world, where everything is clean and healthy, where society is neat and ordered.

This idea caused me to remember the novel Eyeless in Gaza by Aldous Huxley, which I had read a few years back. A mostly autobiographical bildungsroman written on the precipice of World War II, the novel ends with the young protagonist on a journey to Central America, where he meets an idealistic doctor who believes sport to be a proper substitution for war. He tells the story of two tribes locked in internecine conflict through generations, able to replace that violence with soccer matches.

And wasn't that what the world of Pokémon was, a utopia revolving around neutralizing weapons of war by using them for competitive sport?

This tournament, I envisioned, would not simply be about deciding who was best, but an ideological battle for the future of the Pokémon world. To that end, I imagined a war between an entrenched trainer class, who competed as philosopher-warriors, intense individuals with deep connections to their Pokémon, and an upstart commercialization that sought to replace the ideological underpinnings that made their society so safe and prosperous with economic accumulation. It was from this kernel that the character who would become Aracely Sosa arose: charismatic, appealing, human-empathic, and propped up by a support staff who did all the hard work of teambuilding for her.

I imagined the story having an ensemble cast, focusing on nearly every competitor equally, with the Aracely character not having any especial focus until her improbable rise to the top. I imagined a final round where she faced off against "the man who always wins," and though she would lose to him, she would seem to have won the ideological battle, altering the course of society as major corporations scrambled to employ her formula for success at a much grander scale. The story would end with this realization of the earth-shattering importance behind her run, only for Aracely to sink in disappointment. Because in the end, all she really wanted was to win.

The more I thought about it, though, the less I liked the idea of an ensemble cast. The ensemble cast element of Chicago hadn't gone over very well (though I like it), and I figured it would wind up inflating the length of the story considerably. I was coming to the end of Cleveland Quixotic, after all, and once more wanted to write something smaller, tighter, and denser.

So I oriented my thinking to instead have the story revolve around Aracely and one major rival, to give an interpersonal mirror to the ideological war being waged. Thus, Toril came about as an antithesis to everything I had imagined Aracely to be: gruff, antisocial, independent. Their rivalry would culminate in a semifinals battle, before Aracely went on to fight "the man who always wins" in the finals.

I forget exactly when the gender theme came into the equation, but it evolved as an outgrowth of (once again) my competitive League of Legends expertise, where women are essentially nonexistent despite there seemingly being no biological blocks against them. This dovetailed nicely with Pokémon, a world where women seemingly could be powerful competitors, but where—in the anime at least—none ever are. For instance, look at this chart of every major tournament in the anime:

Every known winner is male. Every known finalist and semifinalist is male. Only a handful of female characters have reached the quarterfinals. What possible in-universe justification could there be for that?

This question was actually far more prominent in early planning and drafting than it wound up being in the final work. Initially, I had Aracely's personal motivation revolve around a drive to be the first female trainer to win; this would increase the ideological conflict between her and Toril, who attempted to ignore that she was female altogether. Over time, this theme would see diminished importance in face of the last piece of the thematic puzzle: cults.

It came from reading Underground by Haruki Murakami, a nonfiction journalistic account of the 1995 Tokyo sarin gas attacks carried out by the cult Aum Shinrikyo under the direction of its leader Shoko Asahara. Japan in the 90s was experiencing its own End of History, one taken literally by those disaffected with modern society's grand narrative. The prophecies of Nostradamus became fashionable among the young, who believed that 1999 would be the final year before the world was destroyed. Murakami interviewed both survivors of the gas attack and members of Aum Shinrikyo, collecting worldviews of people who simply thought they were "different" and who were willing to give everything in their lives to the one place that seemed to accept that difference.

The 1995 attacks were a watershed moment in Japanese culture. In their wake would come pivotal works of Japanese pop media, like the titan of otaku culture, Neon Genesis Evangelion:

(What's scary about Nostradamus' prophecy is that it might not come true. A year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.)

Pokémon, whose first games released in Japan in 1996, also emerged within this post-Aum world where fixation on the minutiae of pop media was becoming a primary pillar of meaning for the youth, and it's hard not to see echoes of cultism in the evil teams that dot the series' landscape. Even Team Rocket, originally more modeled on organized crime than occultism, veers that direction in Gold and Silver, and afterward the organizations and their world-ending plots become increasingly absurd, to the point where it starts to become unclear why anyone would ever follow, say, Lysandre.

As I mentioned earlier, my personal interest in Pokémon was at odds with these clownish, Saturday morning cartoon villain organizations, but Murakami's account of the Aum attacks recontextualized them for me, made them make sense even within the framework of a "realistic" utopian world. The last elements snapped into place, and I knew my main character would be the member of one of these cults. A cult dedicated to, what else? Evolution. A core element of the Pokémon series, a perfect metaphor for the frustrating lack of movement of the End of History 90s. I imagined a cult leader as a surrogate mother figure for Aracely, who would have a strained relationship with both of her own parents, and deciding on that, the idea of making Pokémon's canon evil mother Lusamine the villain was a no-brainer. I imagined a post-SuMo Lusamine, unable to move on from her experience merged with Nihilego, languishing in Kanto after being sent there to consult with Bill, who had his own experience being merged with a Pokémon... It didn't take long to figure out how all these pieces connected.

The full form of the story had taken shape.

VI. Showdown

I knew immediately I would be following Showdown rules for the battles. No alternative even crossed my mind. I had dabbled in Showdown a few times over the years, first in Gen 3 OUs, then later in Gen 7 OUs, and I knew from experience that Pokémon is a monumentally more interesting competitive game when operating at a high level compared to either its depiction in the anime (shounen logic, mid-fight evolutions) or the general playing experience (spam your best move on your overleveled starter). I knew I would use competitive rulesets before I even considered the thematic or worldbuilding aspect I would eventually take in the story itself (i.e., that the specific rulesets prevent battles from becoming bloodsport and enforce order on the world). I simply thought doing battles this way would be far more entertaining.

To prepare, I started playing Gen 9 OUs under the guidance of a few friends who were into the competitive scene. I grinded the ladder for months, eventually getting a good enough grasp on the metagame to reach 1500 Elo on the Showdown ladder, which is not very good but generally higher than someone can reach with dumb luck.

Crafting the tournament format and rulesets used in the story wasn't difficult. I modeled the tournament format on the League of Legends World Championship, with region-based seeds (having been selected due to performance in regional tournaments) competing in four groups before the highest performers advanced to a single elimination bracket. Initially, I envisioned a 32-competitor bracket instead of the 16-competitor bracket that would appear in the final draft, but otherwise the format came quickly and easily.

In terms of the rulesets and available Pokémon, my considerations were made primarily in terms of what would be most entertaining to read. I decided to include Mega Evolutions and not include Z Moves, Dynamax, or Terastallization, because Mega Evolutions are cool and those other gimmicks are not. The bring-9-pick-6 format, while unusual in Showdown rulesets, is similar to the rules in Pokémon Stadium and VGC tournaments, and also adds a level of intrigue to which Pokémon each competitor uses. (It also enabled Red's Zapdos at the climax of the story, which was something I knew I would bring out from very early on.)

With the help of one of my friends who knew competitive Pokémon, I scripted out each battle assiduously before I wrote them. Every battle was tested using Showdown itself, with only a few turns mocked up to account for luck. For instance, in Aracely versus Jinjiao, Slowking is meant to stay asleep for three turns. Rather than rely on luck to ensure Slowking actually slept that long during the test, I could give Slowking a useless move and have him use that instead to simulate being asleep.

The only thing that couldn't be tested in Showdown was the 7 PP Kingambit trick Red uses at the end of the story, because it's impossible to set a Pokémon to have fewer than max PP in Showdown. This led to one of the bigger mistakes of the story, as it turns out that Encore would simply wear off if Kingambit ran out of PP, rather than forcing him to use Struggle like I assumed. Luckily, even if this were the case, it wouldn't change the outcome of the battle, so it's not an error I lose too much sleep over.

Character teams were chosen to thread the needle between a few considerations. The team needed to be competitively viable, reflect the character's personality in some way, and be distinct from other teams for the sake of variety. (Variety is somewhat unrealistic in real top-level competitive Pokémon, where you'll often see many almost identical teams in the top ranks. But that would be boring.) Some lack of optimization was allowed under the conceit that actually training these Pokémon to peak form would take a lot of time in the real world, compared to Showdown were optimization can be determined quickly due to the ability to immediately adjust stats and builds.

I also tried to give some preference for Pokémon that would be more familiar to layman fans, though this was difficult because Gen 8 and 9 have outrageous power creep and many popular early generation Pokémon have been completely phased out. (Using Megas helped with this issue.) It was this consideration that led to Azumarill being Aracely's ace. There was also an innate challenge to imagining what the competitive scene would look like without legendary Pokémon. Zapdos and Landorus-Therian have been inexorable staples of the competitive scene for generations. What happens in a world where they aren't used at all?

In the original 32-person bracket, I imagined Aracely competing against Jinjiao in the first round, then minor characters Adrian da Cunha and Jacq Ray Johnson in the next two rounds, before facing Toril in semifinals. I imagined Adrian da Cunha as a "hometown hero" whose team wasn't great but he was plucky with a lot of grit, and Jacq Ray Johnson as a self-aware heel who liked to use cheesy strategies and gimmicky Pokémon like Smeargle and Ditto. Condensing from 32 to 16 occurred around the same time I had settled on Lusamine as my villain/cult leader, which led to replacing those two with Gladion. I developed full brackets for both the 32-man and 16-man iterations, with character names and regions, just in case I ever needed to mention them.

All that was left to do was write the story.

VII. Unbroken Line of History

I began writing in September 2023 under the tentative title Unbroken Line of History, which I would later change to simply Lines. In the original drafts, I opened the story with a modified version of the panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu detailing how people are filtered over time in their pursuit of being the best, this time starting with all 8 billion people in the world until only one remains. The story then cut to Aracely's perspective in the restroom as she mentally prepared for her final group stage match.

At this point I was more set on Aracely being the clear protagonist of the story, so she had a few facets of her personality designed around that. First, as I mentioned before, there was a feminist angle where she was motivated specifically to be the first female trainer to win the championship. Secondly, I threw in some more generic nervousness/fear of failure. The other major difference is that I did not lead with the cult prophecy of the world ending. I originally envisioned the cult reveal to be a mid-story twist, and only obliquely hinted at it.

The scene still played out with Toril appearing and the two getting off to a bad start. Then, Cely's father tried to talk strategy with her while she ignored him, before the battle transpired in much the same form as it does in the final draft.

I showed this early draft to my friends and most disliked it. My girlfriend at the time told me Cely sounded like an edgy 13-year-old boy, while my neuroscientist friend whose aspirational idol is Bondrewd from Made in Abyss wanted to know more about the oblique hints of a cult, finding everything else boring. Another friend said it was stupid that there were 30 seconds between turns during the battle and that the Pokémon should just go at each other; nobody would actually want to watch a battle that was paced so slowly. (I vehemently disagreed with that take. Basically every popular sport balances between slow-paced moments of strategy and fast-paced moments of action and execution.) Some people I showed it to did enjoy it, though. Gazemaize, the author of Chili and the Chocolate Factory, was especially enamored by the Brittany/Gardevoir reveal and the Bud Light Analyst Desk, and implored me to keep both of those elements at all costs. 7th, one of my friends who helped me with the Showdown stuff, was so into it she drew fan art of all the characters (which I've posted before) and also wrote eight pornographic short stories about them.

I rewrote the same opening scene several times across October and November, though these were minor iterations without significant adjustments. Frustrated with the lack of progress, I decided to take a break from writing to simply think about the story for a few months.

During this time, to fix Aracely's edgy 13-year-old voice, I decided to lean into her being from Pokémon Los Angeles (with her native region, Visia, being a play on "visual" as a reference to Hollywood) and gave her a Valley Girl accent. To prepare for this, I listened to hours and hours of ASMR videos of people speaking like Valley Girls and took notes on their inflection and syntax. It was here where I decided on Aracely's underlining quirk, as a way of capturing the unique style of emphasis Valley Girls used.

This also made me realize I needed to adjust Aracely's personality. Despite the tone of her voice, she was still acting antisocially. She didn't want to talk to her father, she didn't want to talk to Lachlan Nguyen, she didn't even really want to talk to Toril. Toril herself was a lump of coal. My own misanthropy kept leaking into the characters, even when I conceptually didn't want them to have it. I thought back to Cleveland Quixotic, and how what made the Jay and Viviendre romance work was that they actually both liked each other, and figured—even though I didn't have explicitly romantic plans for Aracely and Toril—that I needed to do something similar to make their rivalry truly pop. Rather than avoid people, Aracely would lean into talking to them, even if they were annoying. Although Toril remained frigid, there would be a part of her yearning for emotional contact, a way to coax her out of her shell.

I also thought deeply about the structure of my stories in general, and my inability to come up with good hooks. It was around this time that someone I knew was reading Chicago. They pointed out that the plot of Chicago doesn't really start until Chapter 26; that I was "burying the lede." I considered this. My logic, when writing Chicago, was that the Empire moving to take over Washington would be a twist, something that would shock and excite people and change their perception of the entire story.

But did that make sense, when really the story was "about" that twist? Didn't that just make everything before the twist harder to get into for a reader? Chicago might look radically different if I revealed the Empire's goals immediately, but it would also probably be a more immediately engaging work. I'm a big fan of delayed gratification in storytelling, but had I taken it too far?

This was a major revelation for me, and immediately I understood what I needed to do for my Pokémon story: move up the cult plotline. Place it front and center. Name the whole story after it even. I decided on framing the opening scene from Toril's perspective, depicting Aracely initially more as an alien other, emphasizing the fact that she was in a cult rather than hide it behind foreshadowing. This could also lead to Aracely and Toril having more of a dual protagonist setup, which would make my planned two-half finale (one half where Aracely battled "the man who always wins," one half where Toril got involved in stopping the cult's doomsday plot) work even better.

Confidence resurged. At the end of January 2024, my girlfriend of seven years  and I broke up. A few days later, I started writing the sixth—and ultimately final—draft of When I Win the World Ends.

VIII. When I Win the World Ends

Now it's the part of the Making Of where I actually make the thing I'm supposed to be making, but there's a lot less to say about it. Once I have a plan, the actual writing of the story is the easy part, and most of what I wrote—with a few exceptions—looks similar to the story as it exists now.

There were some oddities. I wrote the first seven chapters (everything up to the end of the Jinjiao battle) and then had to take a two week break to write a short piece for a writing contest I had entered in December as part of an effort to stop overthinking WIW. After this interruption, I returned to WIW writing perhaps a bit more perfunctorily than I usually would, leading to an original version of Chapter 8 (the chapter where MOTHER makes her first real appearance) that was short and abbreviated. Later, in editing, I would rewrite most of this chapter.

A few ideas emerged while writing, like the motif of serendipity/Logos, which I felt tied nicely to the ideas of evolution and history. It was also in this draft that I introduced Cely's friends Haydn and Charlie, as a nod to an earlier work of mine also featuring a fashion-obsessed girl from Los Angeles. (Speaking of nods to earlier works, in the original 32-man bracket, Cole Coulter featured as one of the competitors, but he didn't make the 16-man cut.)

The process went smoothly. I finished the draft at the end of May, a little under four months after I started it. I had envisioned the full story as being about 70,000 words, but the draft ended up closer to 115,000. Underestimating story length is just an essential element of the trade, though.

A few days after finishing the draft I went on a four-day Oklahoma Darkness Retreat where I had access to zero electronics. The goal was to think about my story deeply and how it could be improved in the editing process.

In this time chamber, where I did nothing except complete crossword puzzles and read The Recognitions by William Gaddis, I came to a realization. There was one element the story needed that wasn't already there.

That element was Sabrina. In the original draft, Sabrina was not present during the scene where Aracely meets the Old Man. She was mentioned obliquely a couple of times in conjunction with Aracely's "psychic powers," but it never really built to anything. There was still a scene where Aracely was interrogated due to her relationship with MOTHER, but only by nameless goons, and the scene lacked tension as it was clear Aracely could talk circles around them.

When I returned from Oklahoma, I prepared for my conception of Sabrina as a character by writing an 8,000 word short story from her perspective, which hashed out an entire backstory for her. Then, I started editing the draft.

For me, a lot of editing is just polish. Usually, cutting out needless sentences and fixing clunky ones, as well as emphasizing a few of the more understated themes and motifs. For instance, during editing, I made slight additions to emphasize the thematic connection between Aracely's suicide attempt and the global war that almost destroyed the world, as well as the connection between the moon and cyclical insanity (lunacy, etymologically, being related to the moon). I made the Old Man more of a Walt Disney-esque figure (from my notes: "a dying Disney"), rewriting much of his dialogue to either be direct quotes or to evoke his ideals. I also expanded on several of the scenes where Toril and Aracely interact to make their relationship more complex and nuanced. I gave MOTHER some new dialogue, including her speech in Chapter 18 about loving a child for the potential it promises, while also paradoxically wanting it to remain a child forever.

The largest changes were in the three chapters I almost fully rewrote. The first was Chapter 8, which as I mentioned earlier was overly terse. In the original draft, it depicted MOTHER as more pathetic, more dependent on Aracely. I decided to make her a more threatening figure, and incorporated a few references to the Moloch sacrifice scene from Valle Verde to make her seem more like a false idol. Similarly, I rewrote Chapter 12, which was originally a very short chapter that focused solely on a conversation between MOTHER and Nilufer that ended with the order to kidnap Aracely. In rewriting the chapter to include Fiorella, I gave myself more opportunity to flesh out the respective philosophies of her and MOTHER (including some of the story's most salient discussions about why cults exist), as well as give more of an insight into the inner workings of RISE as an organization. And lastly, I fully rewrote Chapter 19 to include Sabrina.

The last changes I made in editing were to the final chapter. When I finished the final draft of the story, I sent it to several readers, many of whom had looked at the original drafts of the first chapter, as well as julirites, the author of a Fargo fan fiction called London. There was an immediate and minor backlash to the final chapter, which was originally much more pessimistic, from most people who read it. In the original version, Aracely and Toril were not still in communication. (Fiorella was also dying of cancer instead of jockeying to replace the Old Man.) The finale had a much more somber, sedate, tragic note. Juli and 7th disliked this sad ending, while Gazemaize wanted me to cut the final chapter altogether. I felt confident that the final chapter was necessary, though, and revised it to its current version, which was much better liked.

And then... the story was finished, near the end of July. I crunched the numbers and realized that if I posted two chapters to start and then did a twice-weekly posting schedule, I could end the story serendipitously on October 12. So I did.

IX. Names and Special Thanks

In my Making Of post for Cleveland Quixotic, I had a fairly extensive list of where I got all the character and place names from. The list is a lot less extensive here; most names I constructed for the purpose of sounding evocative, rather than taking them from someplace specific. For instance, I chose the name Aracely Sosa because it sounds like whistling with its repeated S sounds, compared to Toril Lund which is a lot harsher with its consonants. You can see a similar rationale behind names like Fiorella Fiorina, Yui Matsui, and even some of the background characters, like Jacq Ray Johnson, Jr., where there is a lot of emphasis on alliteration and rhyme.

There are a couple of exceptions. Jinjiao is the in-game ID of a longtime Chinese League of Legends pro of middling notability. He picked the name (which means "Golden Horn") as a reference to the Golden Horned King, a villain from Journey to the West.

Lutz, Fiorella's cameraman, was named after an extremely minor character from Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, who is not playable and only appears in a singular cutscene before being killed. They are so irrelevant that despite naming a character after them, I actually forgot their name, which is Lotz, not Lutz.

Haydn is named after the famous classical composer.

Special thanks to 7th and Elick320 for helping me with the teams and battles. Thanks to Gazemaize and julirites, among others unnamed, for reading and providing feedback. And thank you all for enjoying the story.

[roxxiies]

This is my first time requesting for something on Tumblr, so I'm a little nervous. Anyways.. If you don't mind, I'd like some wholesome headcanons with Leomord and Faramis (separately). I rarely see x reader content for these two, but I'm too shy to post my own works for them qvq

Wholesome head canons for leomord and faramis (separate). sfw, gn!reader.

ft: leomord, faramis

Leomord, the ever knight, swears loyalty to his allies and even more with the people he cares about. He might even see you as part of his kingdom.

As the knight of his kingdom, he would offer some sort of advice on strategy on the battlefield.

And if you really asked for it, he would even let you ride Barbiel—just don't go running off with it. He knows his horse prefers you more than him—

Leo is patient and very encouraging, so whenever you practice and train with him, he won't hesitate to offer praise and give some constructive feedback here and there.

On the battlefield, he would keep an eye on you and would only step in when you’re really in trouble. He just loves how tough you are, just like during practice. Even if he won’t admit it, there’s a bit of pride in how well you’ve learned from training with him. 

But if you really were in a tough spot, he would swiftly charge in and save you. He won't abandon you no matter what happens, even if you fail. He would reassure you that mistakes happen and it's okay to fail once in a while.

“I...I’m sorry, I failed you,” you murmured as you were settled in front of him while he guides the horse.

He huffs, shaking his head, “You fought well, and for that, I am proud.” The only sound was the galloping of his horse, “But please remember, do not push yourself too far...” he'll blame himself.

He knows the faith of the people relied on the queen, and when you encouraged Vexana's will to step up once again, Faramis swore he's just going to pay you back once.

But now, Faramis always enjoys your company. He'd notice how you actually took a liking as he talks on about the things he knew for the past years.

if you let him, he would really ramble endlessly! And for a second, he forgets his worries and responsibilities.

He would even try to actually take you to one of the hidden places within the Land of Dawn. Spending hours exploring arcane secrets—he trusts you, just don't tell his queen about it.

In times of doubt, he'd be the one who will reassure you. Maybe it's something about how he uses his words or just... his presence alone.

On the battlefield, he would usually keep an eye on you if not with the core. Even though, you shouldn't be too hesitant to tower dive.

It's crazy how much he times his ultimate when it comes to you.

Faramis often stays awake late at night due to him being weighed down by his responsibilities. And sometimes, you silently join him and offer your presence as support. Even though you'd be quiet, this would still cause his heart to swell as he takes the sincerity of your care for him.

“You're still up? Did I not tell you to rest—”

“Fara, I'll just accompany you.”

He paused, then abruptly reached the vials nearby as he lowered his gaze, trying to cover his flustered cheeks.

[savebatsfromscratch]

Of course he rolled a one - Palletshipping Week 5 (Sickness)

Summary:

Ash and Gary are both sick. For some reason, they decide this is the best time to play a RPG game.

Notes:

Prompt: Sickness Note: My dad is currently sick with a cold, and as a result we had the time to play Talisman (a board game from the 90s) I won and was sufficiently inspired. The game might not make sense if you’ve never played the game (sidenote: if you can find the game, and like RPG games, I HIGHLY recommend it), but it IS a real game. Words: 1,128

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54915760

Gary sneezed.

“Blesshoo,” Ash slurred, his voice much quieter than normal due to his sore throat. He gestured to the dice that sat on the table beside Gary. It was green, and missing some of its spots, which made it perfect for the tower than both of their player pieces currently sat in, “dice?”

Gary groaned and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He had been hoping that Ash would have forgotten the fact that he and his Sorceress card had lost one of their turns, but it seemed that Ash had a better memory than Gary was giving him credit for. 

Begrudgingly, he passed Ash the dice, hoping (as if to beam bad luck into it), that the spot Ash landed on would have him draw a turn wasting card as well. Or at the very least only go one spot closer to the Dragon King. He’d only been in the tower for two turns, and he had rolled a two and a three, almost the highest amounts of moves he could make in there. (Gary, on the other hand, had been paralyzed every other turn and only moving ones. …for the past five turns.)

With only two people playing, the game had been going rather slowly, (even with the modification to level up every four XP instead of every seven), and Gary didn’t think he could emotionally take it if he lost now. Maybe that was a side effect of his status as a “rival,” he was too competitive for his own good.

Ash rolled another three.

Gary bashed his head into the table, feeling his nose re-clog up at the change in pressure. Ash laughed out loud, and then hissed in pain when the laughing hurt his throat further. There was a small pause as Ash recovered, and then they both began giggling quietly. (Even though Ash sounded like a kicked puppy every time he laughed.)

This was the most ridiculous thing ever.

They were both sick, and instead of resting nice in bed, they had both spontaneously decided to pull out the two hour long RPG board game. Sitting calmly with their Pokemon? Never. Why not fight some silly dragon king as characters drawn in a mildly grotesque art style? PERFECT.

Ash read over the space he had landed on, and then made a face that Gary knew meant it was a draw two spot. Gary smirked to the best of his ability, though he could tell he was going to need a new supply of tissues for his running nose in about three seconds. Maybe he still had a shot at this! (He was only one spot away from the dragon’s lair after all.)

Ash scrambled to pull his cards, just as worried as Gary had been only moments before. Gary’s grin grew wider. Even if his eyes hurt from the bright light from the windows and his illness, he was going to keep them open when he watched Ash pull a card that, he wasn’t sure, took away all his followers or something. (If Gary had been the one playing the Vampire, he would have long since eaten the guide in a place like this. Ash was down on hearts anyway.)

But he didn’t feel like voicing any strategy to someone who was already winning on luck.

Gary studied Ash’s face as he continued to struggle with the cards. (They had both stubbornly refused to un-rubber-band the Tower deck, thinking that whoever got in first would be done with it quickly. That had not been the case.) He looked scared, which only made Gary feel more giddy.

But Ash’s immediate grin when he finally managed to pull the cards immediately crushed Gary’s momentary feeling of joy.

“Craft!” Ash whispered, holding up a card which Gary recognized as one that would give him extra stats if he decided to use it. Worse, the other card didn't seem to apply either. Without any items, there wasn't any risk of Ash losing them. Gary groaned and Ash stuck his tongue out at him.

Ash fumbled for the craft counter, piling it atop his already mountainous pile of blue papers. When he went to put the paper in its proper place, however, the entire pile slid apart, running flat into his equally monstrous collection of strength tokens.

Ash grinned, but made a face at his hurting throat. Gary was not in the mood to laugh at the accident. This was just like Pokemon battling. You could be so sure you were about to win, and then loose to a Pokemon you had the advantage over.

Ash began fixing his piles of stat counters, and Gary reached for the dice. Freed of his paralysis, he knew he only had to roll a two, and he would be in the dragon's den.

He just had to roll a two. Just a two. Anything but a one.

He shook the dice between his hands, eyes closed in focus or as if praying. (He wasn't quite sure himself.)

He tossed the dice, grinned as it spun around its corners, about to land on a three, and then watched in something similar to horror as it hit the lower half of the tower piece of the board and flipped over. Over and over.

Of course he rolled a one.

“ONE?!” He cried out, jumping to his feet, ”WHY!?“

Ash snickered, even though it must have hurt.

With twenty craft under his belt, there wasn't even a purpose in attempting to beat him as the dragon king.

Dejectedly, Gary moved his piece to the spot right outside of the dragon king's hall. Ash, who had already been there, triumphantly moved his piece to the top of the tower. Gary checked through his spells one more time, but no, there wasn't much he could do with two healings.

“You won,” Gary muttered, feeling quite like he had just lost a large profile league.

But his anger at being beaten began to fade as Ash jumped to his feet in celebration. Despite being annoying, the guy could be pretty cute when he was happy.

Maybe it made sense for Pokemon trainers to do something like this, after all. Even though they were both too sick to have much fun actually Pokemon battling, they could still have a lot of fun making up battles of their own.

“Still can’t beat me in Pokemon battling though,” Gary muttered, though he was grinning.

Unable to respond properly, Ash smacked him lightly on the shoulder. Despite his best efforts, he was soon giggling mutedly, and hissing in pain when it hurt his throat. (This only seemed to make him laugh more.)

Gary began laughing too. 

He wondered if they both had fevers.

Gary sneezed again.

Notes:

Man I love Palletshipping. (This also serves as a love letter to Talisman lol. I hope someone else out there knows what I’m talking about. Btw my favorite character to play is the Sorceress!! I won with a combo of the Lightning spell and the Psionic Blast spell. I didn’t even have any weapons or followers lol, and it was the first time I’ve ever won! Very proud of myself lol.)

[thatonelemoneater]

Another one

39 episodes

My very own tower strategy guide

8/10

Do reccomend if you like tower stories

While it has the core tower concepts it's also pretty unique

[darkpoisonouslove]

WiP Wednesday

I have finally remembered that Warmth of Rage, Cold of Love was sitting unfinished and I came up with the rest of the plot for it. It turns out that there is a lot to edit in the first two chapters, however, so I am now practically writing the whole thing anew. Here's a snippet of my progress so far:

“I wouldn’t do that,” Valtor warned at the sight of the ball of purple energy flashing in existence between her palms.

“I wonder what would make you rethink your strategy if a prolonged stay at Omega couldn’t,” she challenged and hurled the magic at him.

There was no rage, no hot explosion swallowing up her attack and throwing it back at her for the audacity. He didn’t dodge or try to shield himself, instead letting the magic blast him square in the chest and send him flying.

He hit the wall behind him, the collision echoing in her own bones.

It wasn’t him groaning, though, and she didn’t have enough air for anything, all of it squeezed out as she whipped around.

The walls shook and clamped around Ediltrude and Zarathustra, squeezing them tighter with the force of her own attack. It’d passed right through him despite the dramatic effect of knocking him around. It’d only done damage where he’d allowed it to, bringing the twins to the brink of unconsciousness.

Valtor laughed, his own ribcage unrestricted by something as trivial as the enormous flow of energy in Cloud Tower’s walls. “You see, when I take damage,” his footsteps crushed the barely audible sound of the twins’ breathing, “so do they.”

His magic filled the space around him, bridging the gap between the two of them and tugging on her own. It threatened to rip it out of her mind and leave her torn in half and bleeding on the floor if she didn’t heed his call and surrender her gaze to whatever view he wanted her to look at. Probably his own face, the smug smile on it tangible where the fabric of her pajamas left her skin bare and vulnerable.

She kept her eyes on the twins looking for an opening in the agony twisting their faces and forcing their eyelids to strand her out of their sight. She had to make them see her, couldn’t leave them to the terrifying truths thriving on Valtor’s voice and threatening to bloom on her very lips the moment she opened her mouth.

His breath tickled the exposed skin of her shoulder causing an unbidden shiver to welcome him in her proximity.

“Tell me,” a low murmur in her ear meant to isolate her from her friends, “how many attacks do you think you’ll need to finish them off? Because I bet you could have already done it if you weren’t pulling your punches.” He tsked dramatically. “Even the greatest power will fail if backed up by your incessant need to test out the water first.”

Griffin hardened her gaze, steeled her spine to keep from bending under his overwhelming closeness. She turned around to face him, digging her nails in her palms to embed there the image of the twins’ chests hardly moving anymore. That was what mattered, not his lips an inch away from hers where she was breathing in the air leaving them.

“What do you want?”

He hadn’t taken away her magic. He’d taken away her will – the thing that had led her away from him and guided her attacks with him as her target. She could still use magic by his side, for his goals. Her life didn’t matter to him when he wasn’t in it. He’d come for her out of nowhere to collect a debt like she owed him her soul.

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 9 Damian x reader

"What is this place, why is it shaped like a T?" We stand on an island with this enormous building smack in the center of it the sunset shade casting a large shadow over us, I can't get over how ridiculous it looks. Or contemplate my confusion, Nightmare makes an unimpressed huff and nuzzles back into my shoulder.

"Titan's tower."

"why would this be a good place to hide? It's the most obvious building here, I ran with you for several days I'm beginning to think I would be safer under my floorboards." He walks up to the doors and pulls out a card holding it in front of the circular panel. It beeps and a clicking noise comes from the door.

"Believe me this would be a better place for you." I sigh a form of any and all anxiety pools in my body, but I still meet him at the now unlocked door.

"Alright fine but you need to explain to me why here of all places."

"When we get inside." The doors swing open, the area behind it lights up leading to what I assume is an elevator. I'm pulled inside not giving me a chance to look around. "Hey!" He doesn't answer but pulls us into the elevator, I don't see him push a button but we almost immediately move up. It's fast but not as fast as the one I had to go down for training at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Though the feeling is familiar and I start missing my classmates all over again. I rub the wrist that Damian was holding to dragging me here. Nightmare growls at the space moving him and interrupting his nap. The space stops and the door opens to an open space that looks like a large living room. a white angled couch a large kitchenette and an impossibly large TV by open glass windows. The room has several people all staring at us, my anxiety hits me tenfold and I take a step back. A hand is at my shoulder the moment I do and pushes slowly while moving itself. The doors close signaling that I'm truly stuck here, a woman with Neon pink hair and bronze skin zooms up to us.

"It's so good to see you, and I see you brought a friend. Richard has been looking all over for you."

"I know that's why you can't tell him we're here." I'm pushed forward. "She's a mutant possessing the X-Gene, my father wants to interrogate her for the information, she needs to stay here till a better solution becomes present. Can she stay here?"

"Well of course she can stay-"

"What?!" Nightmare jumps from my arms and hisses. I walk backward, taking in this new information. "How did, you find out when-when." Fear creeps how long had he known how much trouble was or might be in. But he didn't mention this. but then again why would he. How does he know about the X-Gene though, from the research I did there were none here with it. The closest there was were Metahumans but even they didn't have anything close. My back hits the wall and I return to the world Nightmare growls standing guard in front of me. Everyone who was in the room now stood in front of me, a boy that was green from head to toe, another girl in a purple cloak and unitard, and another boy with something attached to his back. The pink-haired woman steps forward, but Nightmare swats at her yowling as a warning to keep away. She raises her hands in surrender but looks at me.

"There is no need to be afraid, I knew people like you, Jean Grey, Cyclops. they came here by accident once a few friends and I helped them get back. It would have been 7 years ago now." Damian steps forward Ignoring Nightmare, guilt is painted slightly on his face he tries to coax me from the wall. "I'm sorry I knew since the time you showed me, I checked my recorder after that visit and played it back home in front of everyone. I was to find out more from you and report back after we scanned those samples that healed me. When we were ready I was supposed to bring you back with me for interrogation with confirmation of your mother's research." Something snaps inside me and I glare at him.

"So all that was for those stupid journals. Wow, for how long were you faking nice. No, don't tell me it'll just feel worse. " I put a hand on my face willing the emotions of confusion to stop. A crackling noise makes its self known in front of me followed by screams.

"Holy Crap that thing has tentacles coming from its face!"

"Ahh!"

I gasp at the sight Nightmare had gone full flerken and is attempting to drag Damian in. I lunge at Nightmare dragging him across the floor. He lets go of Damian but he hasn't changed back to cat form. "Nightmare No! Calm down I'm fine I swear it! Stop!" The black fuzzball retracts his tentacles and hisses at the crowd.

"I'm sorry, he gets like that when he sees me upset sometimes. Not sure if you have them here but he's half flerken, they look like cats but they're quite deadly." I set Nightmare down and he crawls behind my legs once again hissing particularly at the green boy how has gotten closer, he turns into a green cat making Nightmare run in the process. Damian limps forward his leg is bleeding through his suit. I would let that heal naturally if only wounds inflicted by Nightmares in the flerken form never heal normally on their own.

"Y/N these are the Titans, the one mimicking your," he waves his hand in the air as if to find the world. "flerken is Garfield." He points to Nightmare being chased my the green cat attempting to lose him. The bronze woman glides forward stomping a foot from me the others followed behind.

"Hello my name is Starfire you can call me Kori, this here is Raven," She points to the purple girl then moves her other hands to the boy. "and this is Jaime. We are pleased to have you here Y/N." She grabs my hand pulling me away from the middle of the room where I had landed. "Now let's get you settled in I'll talk to Damian for a bit after." Nightmare notices my leaving and jumps onto my right sholder hissing at the green-skinned boy.

_____________________________________________________________

I honestly don't know how to feel, to be honest, I should have guessed it so it's my fault. I could have left him and then this wouldn't have happened, but then he would have died in my apartment. Could have been more hostile, but then he definitely would have gone with the kidnapping strategy and I would be already in the hand of batman. Now I'm in the known world of their superheroes, the superheroes know about the Crows and they know about the X-gene. That information can go from good to bad in minutes. Though Kori did know about Jean and Scott, though it was years ago they have traveled through many universes with a small team. I would have been about 10 when this happened and my mother didn't take me there for classes till I was 12. In their lectures, they didn't mention anything like this they did bring in Doctor Strange to teach those of us who could understand how to perform magic. I Now I'm sitting on an insanely comfortable bed knees curled up to my chest just reminiscing. I have been told to use my abilities only when necessary as not to attract any unwanted attention. But what did I do, I screw up my chances of living normally till Doc Strange can pull me back only to find I'm not in my home where I should be. Everything was going so smoothly till now.

The door opens behind me and by the almost silent footfalls, I can tell it's Damian. Nightmare has jumped into my arms forcing me to let go off my legs and watch as the boy drags a chair to face me.

"I suppose you want the whole story now," I said barely looking at him.

"I wasn't going to talk about that yet."

"What did you think you would find in the journals that my mother wrote?"

"An answer on how to stop the Crows."

"You most likely will."

"Than what's in them."

I sigh looking him dead in the eye, pulling myself together for this.

"My mother didn't only study history, in my dimension, she studied all sorts of fields one day she was asked to study something and was gone for almost six months. We hardly heard from her but just enough to know she was alive so naturally when she came back she swore me into secrecy. She explained that she had gone to another world entirely, she studies with them and when she came back more time had passed than when she was there. One journal explaining how she got the and how to get in and another explaining what she found, and the rules for everything she experienced there. She learned things no human should know and kept it from the people she worked for and everyone else. She-she found Avalon, lived among the fey in return for her curiosity and genuine interest they helped her make a guide and history of all fairy and Fae both the pure and the equally disturbed." I reach in my bag and pull out the books from missing from the very research my mother so loved. One being ordinary leather-bound and the other two bear a glowing purple gem on both sides of a very purple dark Tome thick and pooling with some sort of energy as the gem. I give him a serious look gripping both books. "She left it to me but I haven't read them yet, I...I couldn't bring myself to. It might be better used in your hands anyway. Though I shouldn't I still trust you for some reason, so under the conditions that you only use what you find for the better of those in need you may find your information. The journals, however, will stay within my sight understood." He nods, I start to give the leather books to him he stops me.

"I don't want to see them before you," He takes the books from my hands and places them back in the bag. "If you are convinced that I should still read them, then I will convince where ever you wish to study them." He sits on the bed next to me staring out the window. "What I want to talk about is how we get Father not to view you as a threat and as a friend. I went over it with Starfire and we both agree this is the best option." He pauses before he continues. "We're you a hero in your world?"

"You want me to do hero's work and gain a positive reputation so that he's more willing to work with me than slowly forcing out of me."

"Yes."

"How do you know about the X-gene?"

"It was in our database from when Jean Grey and Cyclops had visited. They helped take down an invasion of the skrul and took them back with them to their own dimension. Father took some DNA samples to work with and ask about their abilities. There are entire folders on the subject alone." He pauses again running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Not for that, for everything else."

"Yes that is very much on you but it's also on me. But if I had left you with Crow poison in your blood you would either turn into an undead flesh puppet in my room or die. That would not have gone down well for either of us. I was also mostly upset you broke my window and wanted compensation," I see him visibly tense and clench his teeth. "and didn't even bother to say thank you."

"I Fixed your awful goddammed window isn't that thanks enough." He glares at me.

"Was it? After all, you did spy on me and report it to the Dark Knight." I fall back onto the bed. "There's no getting out of this now might as well get used to it."

"You shouldn't be this comfortable with what's happening, I wouldn't"

"Then why are you smiling ya weirdo, It's almost creepy."

"Tsk, just hand me your computer so I can pull up Star Trek, I would like to finish and begin the movies." I hand him my laptop and he walks over to the wall in front of the bed.

"Um, you know we watch on that computer you making a get away with."

"Yes but the enormous 4k TV is here." He pushes a button I didn't even see before and as promised a TV appears. He smirks at what I assume is my expression. He opens my computer and within minutes Star Trek is cast on the TV. "Please hold your applause till after the show."

"Did you just make a joke? Are you joking now?"

"Aren't I allowed to have a sense of humor?" I Look at Nightmare who has the same thought in his head and I look back at Damian.

"Nope, Nada, No way."

"You know, you're the only one who has talked to me that way and lived."

"I should consider myself lucky then huh."My gaze falls to his leg, It's poorly bandaged so I pull my scales and Med-kit from my bag. " But before I forget I need to treat your leg before your tissue becomes necrotic. You can watch while I work, but you need to swallow one more of the "glittered plastic"."

_____________________________________________________________

"How do you make them?"

"The scales?" I pause stoping the wrap on the angry-looking tentacle mark on his skin.

"What do you think I was talking about?" I smile evilly.

"I thought you were talking about my jokes and wonderful sense of humor." I tie off the bandage and put away my first aid kit. "But If you must know it has to rain first, and I have to be in it. The acidity in the rain is was caused the scales to form but there has to be enough of it. In Gotham, the rain has plenty of it, It soaks into my skin and drains my health which is why I was sick for so long. In return for taking my health, the scales form with healing agents that even baffle me. Normally I would take one and feel fine after but someone decided to take them."

"Do you pull them off?"

"Takes too long and much too painful, I just pour scalding hot water on myself and they pull away from the skin. I clean them and there you have it. Health restoring scales." He stares at me, like I said I pour milk before cereal and then pop it in the microwave for 30 seconds in that order.

"Aren't there better ways to remove them?"

"Yes, but those are back at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters I couldn't pack it with me so I had to find other methods."

He silent again so I put my stuff in the closet, take my Suit out from the bag, and place it on the hanger, the vibranium fibers shimmer in the soft lights then I stuff the rest of my things in there. I have to tell Professor Xavier what's happened on the check update next week with any luck the multi-functional com-piece found the data by now and I can see what they already know. I inwardly sigh, closing the closet and making my way back to the bed. I see Damian drawn into the scene playing on the screen, Data has made his sacrifice saving the Enterprise. I wasn't expecting to last the cleaning to last that long, but then again the poisons from the suction cups dug deeper than I thought. I put some more things away in drawers even though I didn't have much to bring. "We probably should head to bed, I imagine I have to do a proper introduction and demonstrate some form of my power."

"Yes, probably." He gets up grabbing the two scales I gave him for when he starts feeling pain again. Moving swiftly to the door, he takes one more look back then leaves. My eyes fall on Nightmare who sleeps soundly on the end of the bed. I Climb into the warm comforter letting the warmth surround me. I don't even notice myself drifting till all I can hear is static signaling that tonight was going to be a dreamless one.

_____________________________________________________________

"What exactly can you do?" Starfire walks me down to the center of a metallic room filled with weapons and tools, no doubt the training room. I look around more absorbing the room but still answer the question.

"If I see something I can almost instantly learn it or adapt to it, powers, fighting styles, languages I just have to see or hear it. I've had to control it in order not to learn everything and overload happened one time was not pretty."

"What do you mean by almost instantly?"

"Things like shape-shifting are hard to master, but if I concentrate enough I can alter my physical appearance though it takes five minutes to get there and can't hold the form very well after an hour. The first time I saw someone change form my body tried to copy it but I broke my hand instead. But oddly enough I can learn most other powers and knowledge just fine."

"Really? Well just to check could you copy this?" Starfire lifts her hand and green energy forms around it. I lift my hand to match hers and form the same energy in my body, though not green It's a lilac purple. "Sorry still have trouble getting the colors right." The woman stares in awe at my hand, the knowledge of how to use the ability is stored in my memory. I turn my hand light off and look around. She had given me the tour of the building and probably saved this for last to test what I can do. They did the same at XSFGY and had us fight in the ever-changing challenge/training room. I hear the door open and two cheery voices call out.

"Hey Y/N, about to train?" Garfield, the boy in green calls out from the railing where the door is accompanied by Jamie how still looks half asleep.

"I was just about to test her now, could you all stay there, I'm going to pull the full immersion-based training." She floats to a podium on the far side of the room. the area around me pixelated before stilling into a jungle heat and all. Monsters appear from the undergrowth enough level but not easy looking. I raise two fingers to the sky and strike lightning on them Increasing the voltage when one didn't go down, I even open a few portals in the body to warp holes from the flesh. It took about a few minutes to finish and for the simulation to fall. The dark misty cloud vanishes when I flick my wrist. I hear cheering from the side, I turn to face them everyone was now there.

"No way! Did you just see that!!" Jamie is now wide awake sharing an amazing look with Garfield, Raven is a little shocked, while Damian holds a stoic face. I feel a hand on my shoulder and follow it up to the orange-haired woman. I don't catch that she isn't stopping and is dragging me out of the room. With the way her hand had angled, I dragged out facing the other people in the room. She moves so fast that they get so small to quickly "You did excellently today, I'm so happy to welcome you to the team! We shall celebrate with a feast fit for kings and I shall cook it."

"Wait!"

"Kori!"

"Aw hell no!"

"YOU COOKED THE OTHER DAY!"

They all start running after us, shouting and trying to stop the woman. I feel refreshed after getting the OK for using my powers finally releasing some of the tension I've felt. I feel exhausted though, probably anticipating all the social interactions yet to come.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The Tigress of Wrath and the Golden Dragon ~ Yin Zhen x Reader

This is a little fic in which the reader is a girl whose father is an important War General for the Emperor Kangxi, and since he has no sons, and the girl shows great aptitude in fighting and strategic thinking, he chooses to present her to the Emperor and requests to treat her as a man and use her skills accordingly.

When she was a child, she got along well enough with the 3rd and 4th Princes ( Yin Zhi and Yin Zhen accordingly ) yet, due to her more tomboyish personality, and the legend of a Tigress Warrior, they nicknamed her "The Tigress" both as a nickname, and a teasing too, as she seemed to be terrible at being feminine as well, as we know how life was like in the 17th-18th century.

Just like the 14th Prince, she was then taken by her father to train in martial arts and returned to the Palace many years later, when she was of age, and to prove herself, she has to go through some challenges…

---

"Father...? Do you think...Those two will remember me? It's been so long, and I've changed so much and...I don't know." the girl asked her father awkwardly, as they walked casually towards the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the place where the Emperor would talk to the people requesting an audience, and solve paper businesses. "Y/N, dear, you may be scared that they won't recognise you, sure, but remember that you are about the same age, and if you've changed so much, imagine that you may not recognise them either. You know very well men change quite a lot when they grow. You were taller than them when you were a little munchkin, but now, I'm sure they will be towering over you." her father chuckled, seeing the horrified look on her face, only to pat her head reassuringly. "That's...So not cool...I'm sure that, with my eternal luck, I'm going to pass by them, and not realise who it is...Ah, father, look at that boy over there, in the red outfit! Do you think it's one of them? Yin Zhi used to like red, that much I remember! Ha, and he didn't grow up too much, I'm sure he's around my height!" the girl grinned triumphantly, her chin held high, which made her father laugh even more mirthfully. "Why don't you go ask him, then? Who knows, you may just be right!" he encouraged her, and with a smile on her face, she ran up to the boy with no inhibition whatsoever, convinced she was talking to her old friend.

"Hello! Sorry to bother, but are you, per chance, the 3rd Prince? I haven't been in the palace since I was very little, so I'm trying to find my friends." she asked the boy in the most carefree manner possible, only to have him chuckle at her and shake his head. "You're about 11 princes down the line, sorry to disappoint you, miss. I'm the 14th Prince, although, I have to say, I'm rather surprised to hear that my brother actually had friends. He's not the most sociable, as far as I'm concerned, but I'll give you a little tip on where to find him. Both him and the 4th Prince are busy devising some kind of plan or something with our Father, the Emperor, so that's the safest bet if you want to find him." the boy explained, as the cricket in his little cage made a cute, almost happy noise of confirmation. "...Yin Zhen is there too...? Oh boy, that's very exciting...Well, thank you for the information, Prince, I appreciate the help. See you around." she bowed quickly to him, in a manly mannerism, which confused the boy garbed in red, yet didn't quite question anything, as she bolted off to her father's side, quickly telling him what she found out.

And so, they arrived in front of the doors, and the Eunuch announced their arrival, allowing them to step inside and kowtow to the floor to greet the Eye of Heaven.

"May the Emperor live eternally." the two chanted in unison as they bowed down in reverence. "General Nian, I pray you have arrived safely. And I see you've finally brought your daughter with you as well. Just as expected, she grew up a real beauty, just like her mother."the Emperor smiled at them, as they nodded their heads as a thank you. "Your Majesty is kind and benevolent above all, yet I dare not receive just praise." the girl raised her sight so she could look at the old man, feeling awkward, yet unstoppable. "A humble one she is, General, you've raised her well. As I see it, she is of age. Are you here to request a good marriage for her? Perhaps with one of my sons?" the Emperor asked, earning a silent yet startled gulp from the girl. "Your Majesty, I dare not. My daughter, bless her soul, is not the most feminine one, yet, since she left the palace, she showed incredible aptitude in martial arts and fighting, and her teachers deemed her intelligence above average. While she is hopeless with a needle, I can proudly say that she can stab with a sword infinitely better than many of our soldiers. If you may have it in your heart to forgive such an obvious stray-away from our usual traditions, please consider using her skills, for she learnt a great deal and she wants to serve our country and the Emperor with her very brain and life.” her father pleaded, and it seemed like the Emperor was actually considering this move. “Very well, I understand your wish, and it makes sense, however, you will have to prove yourself in front of everyone. There are prejudices everywhere, and close to nobody believes in the resurrection of someone like Princess Pingyang or Lin Siniang. Should you prove them wrong, I shall grant you the title of Apprentice Detective. I believe you remember my sons here, the 3rd and 4th Princes – They, too, were here to volunteer to help solve a case in a province away from the palace, and you may join them.” The Emperor explained, making both the father and the daughter bow gratefully. “Your Majesty is kind and benevolent above all. I shall prove I am worthy of this position and make you and my father proud.” She spoke, and thus, the Emperor raised. “Today, you may rest, as you have come here from a long and tiresome journey, yet tomorrow, you shall be fighting the soldiers in training at the Academy, and depending on your performance, I shall make a decision.” Was the last thing the old man spoke, and then, he dismissed the young ones, as he wished to talk about the situation of the Army in the North-East province.

And so, the Eunuch guided them outside and guided her to the Palace of Everlasting Wisdom, which was awfully fitting for her, but she thought nothing of it, instead, quickly befriended the maids and had them tell her anything of relevance about life in the Palace.

But…Those two Princes…The Emperor said they were her old friends…But they were so grown up and looked so sharp and mature! How could that have happened? She still looks soft and youthful, while they look like hardened adults! How is that fair in any way? Not to mention…They’d be working together? On a journey, away from the palace? That’s insane! So exciting! …Hopefully.

That night, she slept like a baby, both eager and anxious for the next day’s challenge, whatever that may be…After all, she MUST get everyone’s respect, should she wish to have a nice life in the palace and not be constantly pressured into marriage or into becoming a concubine.

Y/N dressed in a nice, light blue dress, like those worn during the reign of the Empress Wu Zetian, since she found those kinds of outfits the best for martial arts, and styled the top of her hair in a simple bun tied in a blue ribbon, letting the lower part sway with the wind. Taking her sword in her hands, she unsheathed half of it, seeing the reflection of her beautiful eyes in it, and grinning, to hype herself up, she slammed the sword back and put it at her waist, rushing to the fighting area.

In the middle of the court, she bowed to the Emperor, who was there to watch the show, yet her gaze was nowhere close to him, but her eyes caught Yin Zhen’s ebony eyes watching her, and she could only smirk, very smug and proud of herself.

As she kneeled like a warrior in front of the Emperor, her eyes averted to His Majesty, as he started explaining what she had to do, as a few boys who must have been fresh out of the Academy, went on either side of her, in perfect sync, 3 on each side, 4 meters apart from her.

“I am aware that one must carry a sword to protect themselves and their allies, yet today, you must show that you are capable of doing so without using your blade in such a manner. Discipline, strategy, reflexes, wit and martial arts shall be what you will be tested on today. You may begin.” As he rose from his throne, he extended his hand up in the air, then abruptly let it fall to his side, as if to highlight the beginning of an entertaining show.

As soon as the loud “BEGIN” was heard from the echoing voice of His Majesty, the girl quickly made a few backward tumbles in a way to get out of the men’s way of harm, then got in a fighting stance, ready to take everyone out. The first 3 were easy to defeat, and ultimately, she grabbed the 2nd one’s arm and swung him around, kicking him into the 3rd, making the three of them fall to the ground – But then she got ambushed by the last three, and as she felt herself get grabbed by the light jacket over her blouse, she quickly twirled around, letting the attacker remain with the jacket in his hands, while she dropped to the ground, sweeping her leg over his own, making him fall to the ground. As she finished the 4th, she twirled around again, kicking the 5th in the jaw, then taking out the ribbon from her hair and choking the last one standing, and thus, she was standing tall surrounded by a pile of beaten up men who stood no chance.

However, no day is short of surprises, as she notices Yin Zhen’s sword get unsheathed and him walking towards her with an amused smirk, and she could only tsk in annoyance – This game of proving the others wrong seemed rather unfair all of a sudden – Going against a sword barehanded? Not exactly wise, she reckoned – And thus, she took out her own sword from her waist, extending it for the Prince to see.

“I believe what you are doing will go against the rules set by the Emperor, Y/N. Are you willing to point a sword towards the Crown Prince?” the 4th Prince chuckled very amused, but now, it was the girl’s turn to grin. “Who said anything about a sword? The Emperor told me not to use a blade, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m merely using its scabbard, correct?” she continued parrying the Prince’s swings with perfect accuracy, but she knew he wasn’t actually going full strength on her, she could feel it in the force behind each strike. “I’m not sure if I should be offended that you’re not taking me seriously in this fight, or if I should be concerned about the gold possibly getting whisked away.” She laughed merrily as they continued to dance the waltz of swords, each strike going harder and harder. “If it does, I will make sure the Imperial Blacksmith forges a much better sword for you, and the scabbard will be embellished fit for an Empress.” Their weapons were crossed while their faces were so close to each other that they could almost feel each other’s breaths, and their words, merely above a whisper, needn’t be any louder, for their conversation was meant to be intimate and away from anyone’s ears. “I’d be much happier if it was fit for a Prince.” She laughed in his face, ready to prepare for another strike, but somehow, the Prince’s hit made the scabbard fall off and rotate far away from their positions, looking at them as if mocking. “How rude and unfair of you, Princeling! How am I supposed to fight you now that I can only use the sword’s handle?” she shook her head in mock annoyance, as he sheathed his sword and stepped in front of her. “I win.” He spoke in a simple, teasing manner, flicking her forehead – An endearing and affectionate habit he used to do only to her when they were young and would sneak out of the palace to play around in the Plum garden. “You win nothing, Yin Zhen.” She scoffed, only to notice a glint of silver sparkling in the Sun, and realizing what it was, she jumped, twirling the sword around to pick it up by the blade’s edge, and stepping on his chest, she propelled herself in the air, hitting away a flying arrow sent into the Emperor’s direction. “…Was that planned too?” she asked, not even noticing the running blood coming from her hand. “No, it wasn’t. Father, are you alright?” the Prince ran to his father’s side, while the girl looked back in the direction from which the arrow was sent flying. “The five of you, don’t move! Guards, keep them still!” commanding the royal guards who obeyed her orders, she examined each of the protesting men who either cried out their innocence, or hollered it out. “You were the one who sent the arrow flying. You have a horizontal line across the middle of your fingers, which means you didn’t use a bow, since it would have attracted attention, but instead, most likely, a mini crossbow that many assassins use – Which makes sense, considering how the arrow is about half the size of a normal one. And the two of you are accomplices. You have the crossbow under your clothes – You’re not actually fat, you just stuffed your clothes to appear so, and you provided the arrows, there is a fragment of a coloured feather part which is used for arrows to fly properly.” She explained with ease, which made the Emperor and the other Princes gather around behind her, listening to her reasonings. “Yes, very well, that does make sense. Yin Zhen, Yin Zhi, what do you make of this situation?” the old man looked at his two Princes, who seemed to ponder the situation over, but came up with no other solution by the end of their brief investigation. “It seems to me Miss Y/N came up with the right solution, Father.” The 3rd Prince answered quickly, not wanting to stay there more than needed, but also being rather intrigued by what was happening. It wasn’t often that a court case would find itself before their very eyes so easily. “Very well, very well indeed.” The Emperor nodded in agreement, stroking his beard. “Father, if I may – I wish to express my opinion on Y/N’s

arrival here, at the Palace. I believe she will be the perfect Detective Constable. She expressed skills in combat, intelligence, tactics, wit and charm – I believe men will find it easier to confess to her, should they be found in a precarious situation. It will prove to be very useful in our mission in the Jiangnan province.” Yin Zhen’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts and spoke without realizing. “Jiangnan? That’s pretty close to Hunan, where I spent most of my time. I heard it’s a rather interesting and developed city. What’s the problem there?” she asked, and it was then that the Emperor truly decided to assign her the case. “There has been a string of rather bizarre murders, Young Detective, and I would like you and my sons to go investigate and put a stop to the injustice taking place. You will be on the road tomorrow, these two will show you the book with the written statements about each singular crime that took place. Rest assured, I will inform your father of your departure, and later tonight you will be provided with the imperial token and any weapon you may be in need of.” The Emperor told his scribe to write the declared Royal Decree and had his personal eunuch give her the Imperial Token that will ensure her access to any place or information that she may otherwise have difficulty reaching. “Your Highness is kind and benevolent above all. May Your Majesty live eternally.” Young Y/N kowtowed in front of the old man, who chuckled and patted her head before leaving the place, and with him, the rest of the crowd…Sans the two eldest princes. “I thought tigresses would grow with time, not regress so much. How amusing.” Yin Zhi chuckled, making light of the height difference that was now reversed. “It’s not my fault I was born in the wrong body, is it now? No matter now, I can accomplish the same things with no difficulty or impediment. A tigress will forever be a tigress, be it a cub or a celestial one.” She smirked at the older prince, who could only scoff and walk away. “Great seeing you again, Y/N. As annoying as always.” He grumbled, leaving his brother alone with her. “It may be my imagination alone, but I believe he became grumpier than ever – Correct me if I’m wrong, though.”Y/N shook her head in disbelief, only to get her forehead flicked once again. “And you are as reckless and airheaded as always. If I don’t take care of you, you’ll die before you realise. The Palace life is a harsh one, especially for a woman, be it one in the harem, or merely one with ties to anyone from the Imperial family. Don’t be foolish thinking you are exempt from harm.” Yin Zhen warned her with a sharp and serious tone – She almost couldn’t recognize him, remembering how much of an air head HE used to be, and she had to scold him every time he’d get hurt by being careless and falling down a tree, or falling in the lake. “You don’t have a fever, do you, Yin Zhen? I don’t recognize you! Since when have our roles been reversed, anyway? Besides, what’s the harm done to me, considering I could prevent any from coming to you and your Imperial Father?” Y/N shrugged simply, before getting her hand taken in his and realizing his concern – Her hand was actually slashed and bleeding from when she held her blade tightly in her hand to deflect the stray arrow ready to claim an important life. “You, dummy. Good thing I learnt from the Tigress how to take care of my cub, otherwise, this little kitten would have been much tamer in the future…And that wouldn’t be fun, would it?” The prince took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it tight against the wound, waiting like that until it stopped bleeding altogether. “Marigold ointment will take care of it. Hopefully, no scars either.” She muttered, looking down at her hand with resentment at the idea of scarring. “Even if it does scar, it won’t take away your beauty and worth in this world.” This comment – so charming, spoken in such a suave way, as he drew closer to her – Made her heart beat like never before, and she was sure her face must show the warmth she felt. “I

didn’t realise you’d become such a smooth talker. Little Yin Zhen sure grew a lot since we’ve last seen each other. Undoubtly, you must have a lot of ladies swooning over you. Ladies with skin as smooth and pale as milk, that is. You don’t have to make me feel better, I am aware of this society’s beauty standards, and how people look down on women with scars. But thank you. I will be going now. Make sure you are well rested for tomorrow’s journey…It will be a long one.” With a small smile, Y/N drew back her hand, taking the handkerchief with her as well – She couldn’t possibly return it all bloody, right? – And went back to her assigned palace, not giving the prince any chance to speak back or refute in any way. How could he possibly find the woman he’s been pining over for so many years – In any way, shape or form – Disgusting, just because of some scar? He knew – It was true – He knew how people were…But not him, and not when it came to her. For so many years since she’s been gone from his arms, he’s been thinking of her and her alone. He wasn’t like his elder brother, so dissolute and indulging in his own pleasures, as far away from the Imperial family as possible, while also ensuring his favouring to their father…But He was different. Yin Zhen WAS going to be the next Emperor, and he WAS going to marry Y/N, no matter what. He just got her back…No way in hell was he going to let her go again.

When he saw her again, he couldn’t believe his eyes – She grew up so much, she looked so beautiful, like a woman – It was only now that he saw her with different eyes, it wasn’t just the old fondness from their childhood…But now, his heart was beating faster looking upon her face.

Stars were twinkling brighter in her eyes, than on the bright sky of Summer, her gorgeous visage rivaling even the Moon Goddess Chang’e – And she was as stubborn and nonconformist as always, wearing dresses from so far back – The Tang dynasty, ages ago – And they suited her so well, he was mesmerized watching the loose fabric fly around her so graciously as she spun around so gracefully, swinging her sword and taking down her enemies with perfect precision and stance…

And her expression…Gods, her expression…

It reminded him of his own.

She oftentimes looked to be ruthless, stoic, sharp and unforgiving…And yet, every so often, when not surrounded by people, he would see her eyes soften to the littlest of things, be it a beautiful flower, or a cute puppy yapping at her, wanting to be petted and played with.

He saw her that night – She couldn’t sleep, perhaps? Or maybe it was the night coming faster, awakening the lovely moon, in her honour – She saw her next to the lotus pond, bathing in the silver light of the Deity, as her finger so gracefully glided over the strings of the zither that she played with such nostalgia, that he felt his own heart weep.

Why was she so sorrowful, he wondered. No person who lacks a certain degree of a broken heart would be able to play with such vibrating emotions the instrument that holds the soul of the player, and of the listener. The fourth prince felt connected to her – A heart to heart and soul to soul connection – Solely through the sounds coming from every pinch of the strings…

He knew he would never again feel something so powerful with anyone else. It was his mother who once told him so many tales of heroes saving princesses and falling in love, and yet, those stories never explained in such detail what either of them felt. It was clear to him now that those authors were never actually in love to begin with. God forbid men feel or act with any vulnerability towards the woman they vow to protect and cherish for the rest of their days.

He wanted – Oh, how much he needed – To go to her, to accompany her melody by playing the flute, for those songs are meant to be played together, as a couple, in perfect harmony – And yet, he was afraid that, as soon as he’d approach her, the little tigress would flee from him. He was aware of how frail and afraid she was of admitting she held a more romantic side, and yet, this very fear of her was what was causing her so much distress, even if she was aware of it or not.

Perhaps, this woman wasn’t just a tigress, but a fawn as well, choosing which side of her to show to the world, depending on what her heart and mind dictated…In a world ruled by men, being a deer would only get you to become dinner, so play the role of a fiery tigress and make everyone flee in fear.

It was the perfect strategy, clearly, and yet…

Yin Zhen never showed fear.

“I never imagined my first case would involve something so complex.” Y/N spoke, almost without realizing, as she went over the case file once again, bouncing absent-minded in the horse saddle. “We immediately sent word to the constables in Jiangnan so they won’t touch the body more than needed. Congratulations, your first case will have you look at something gruesome.”Yin Zhi mocked her, and yet, he was shocked hearing her laugh lightly. “That’s gonna be fun!” she grinned, trying to imagine the way she’d find the bodies and whether she’d be able to make heads or tails of everything. “I hope all three of the bodies will be left in perfect shape, otherwise it would be such a pity, don’t you think?” she mused, a confident kitten-like smile creeping on her face. “Any man who hears you speak with so much glee about dead bodies will flee for you. I’d be more careful about what I’d say out loud before it’s too late and I end up all alone, old and ugly.”The 3rd prince’s comment made his younger brother frown in anger, shooting him a warning look. He didn’t want the girl to become even more sorrowful than she already was. Not being the stereotypical feminine woman wasn’t as popular now as it was hundreds of years ago, when the bravest women were, in the end, praised and beloved by everyone, going down in history, tales of their bravery being sung at events all over the country. “Then…Think I’ll find a pretty woman? If I can’t find a man to love me, protect me and cherish me, like in those nice stories our mothers told us when we were young, then might as well become the warrior seeking a beautiful, young maiden who would willingly sooth my soul and tend to my wounds. Doesn’t sound half-bad, does it? Women are very beautiful, maybe I can find the appeal a man feels when seeing one, if I imagine it long enough.” She chuckled carefree, but the prince knew that, deep down, she was used to such harsh comments being made about her, and in her heart, she held no hope of a future with someone by her side. “As if that would happen.” The prince scoffed at her breeze-like comment, only for her to laugh at him, tauntingly. “What is it, Zhi Zhi? Afraid I’m going to be more popular with the ladies than you? With how rude you are, I think it’s safe to say I would win, if that were the case.” A tigress, a fawn…And a smirking fox. Yin Zhen wondered whether he would come to discover more spirit animals residing inside her heart – He was fascinated, and also, satisfied with how she turned around to taunt back his brother with such perfect ease, that it angered the elder one. “We shall see…” oh, look at that, the 3rd Prince actually took that as a competition starter – How very serious of him! “Enough bickering, you two, we have arrived.” The 4th Prince scolded those two as they trotted inside the city of Jiangnan, admiring the provincial beauty and simplicity of the place, until they were greeted by the main constable of the place, who guided them to their quarters, offering them information about each case, only for then guide them to each of them, in the order they were done.

“Good golly, I never would have imagined a human could end up so fat!” the girl exclaimed, her jaw dropped in horror at the mountain of a man that sat in front of a table, his upper body engulfing the wooden furniture with the layers of fat as he was hovering over it entirely. “Be more respectful of the dead, Y/N…”Yin Zhen sighed softly as he went ahead to look around the room. “I’ll wait for you outside.” The constable muttered, doing as he told.

The girl then put a veil on her face to cover the bottom half of it, protecting herself as much as possible from the possible diseases and, most of all, from the stench of rotten food and flesh. With help from the two imperial brothers, she had the corpse lay on the floor completely, so she could perform an autopsy and see the cause of death – Not only a failing heart, as it was completely engulfed with a scary amount of fat, but…His stomach was burst open, and a concoction of digested and undigested food was disgustingly splayed all around his entrails.

Clearly, he ate himself to death, and yet, she wondered how come the constable didn’t deem this simply a heart failure, considering his appearance? Perhaps signs of forced entry would explain everything – But why would this one be killed in such a way? Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to have such a glutton starve to death? P’haps, even more…Cruel?

Maybe it wasn’t a hate-crime after all, but a way to teach this one that gluttony wasn’t, in fact, good…A twisted way to teach someone a lesson – Don’t steal away the starving people’s food - Y/N realized that, what he may eat at one meal, would be something she’d need for a whole week, and the thought of it had her stifle her chuckle at the irony.

Glutton…Gluttony…Interesting concept. Truth be told, she never met anyone so unhealthily, so morbidly obese – Especially for food was scarce in many provinces, and while there was abundance at the Palace, not even there, did she see anything more than slightly chubby.

Perhaps people who stood out with their wrong-doings were to be eliminated. This one was already an outcast from the rest of the citizens of this place, nobody would miss him, so he was a fair kill.

“Did you find anything relevant around the room?” she asked as she got up and went to wash her hands from the disgusting body juices she had to dig into. “No signs of forced entry, however, the culprit was definitely sitting in the chair opposite of him. What did you find from the body?” the younger brother asked as they all left the room. “Mr. Constable, have you seen anything out of the ordinary in this city lately? A new person, an event, uhm…People acting weirdly, or I don’t know, anything that would stand out from the usual.”She asked, not yet answering the prince. “Nothing that I would think from the top of my head, no…Things have been normal for the past weeks…Until these tragedies started happening, so quickly, one after the other…” country constables really are useless, the girl realized, as she merely smiled at him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring justice to the victims and this city. Until then, stay vigilant and tell us should you find out anything new.” Saying that, she decided to go on ahead to the next victim’s house, letting the running thoughts take over her mind.

Hurrying down the busy streets of Jiangnan, they found their way to the second house of the day – Once again, no signs of a forced entry – Yet this body was different. This man was built normally, so the chances of an accidental death due to natural causes was out of question. He was sprawled over his bed, his clothes dyed with his own crimson blood, his hands and feet impaled with golden ornaments, as melted gold was poured over his face, melting it, and in turn, killing him in such a gruesome way…And piles of golden ingots, silver taels and jewellery were piling over the rest of his body, almost suffocating him.

There was nothing to dissect here, the cause of death was obvious, so the last thing to wonder about was the reason for this atrocity.

So much wealth put everywhere on display…If this was the same person, then maybe…The lesson they wanted to teach this man was humility? Or…Altruism? Temperance? To give away his wealth to those less fortunate?

Perhaps this culprit thought he was trying to protect his city from these people who may taint it. Those who are too…Greedy…

Gluttony…Now Greed…

I wonder what the next lesson taught will be – Y/N thought to herself as she searched around the bed, throwing away all the riches from it, then finding a small, yet fat book that held stray specks of gold on its cover.

‘Bible’ it was called.

“I found one like this at the fat guy’s house, on the table. It certainly is the same killer, then.” Yin Zhi said, taking out the food-stained book from under his clothes. “…I’m onto something. Let’s go to the next one.” Y/N muttered, slamming open the door and bursting through it, going to the 3rd house.

This one, instead of being piled up with the obvious signs of their addictions, it was…Empty? Completely empty?

The victim was laid on the ground, on what looked like a comfortable bed with a pillow, but upon closer inspection, the person was heavily malnourished, looking like a rotting corpse, with its skin barely there anymore, and…

Hold up…

The corpse…Has a pulse…?

As Y/N touched her fingers to the veins on its neck, the corpse’s eyes shot open – They were blood shot, desperate, in complete agony - The girl let out a startled yelp as she fell back on the ground as she watched the…Victim’s chest heave up and down, a guttural scream let out as…The sown-together lips were torn open to allow the man to yell out his pain.

“What do we do?!” Y/N looked back and forth to the brothers, as Yin Zhen knelt and quickly slit his throat, making him go quiet. “Any complaints?” he muttered, watching the girl quickly shake her head. “What the hell was that…? Didn’t the constable say he was definitely dead? That means no pulse, no heartbeat, no vital function…Nothing! This wasn’t nothing!” putting her hand to her chest to calm down her breathing. “Someone wanted us to see him in this state. To act as a warning to us. They knew the constable here was good for nothing, and the culprit wanted to scare us away from this city. Too bad this won’t have the effect he so desired.” Yin Zhen scoffed as he brought his hand under the pillow, finding another book with the same name. “What a sadist…Whoever the killer is…Is sick. Very sick.” But…Why was this one killed? He was humble enough not to lavish himself in riches, not wasting food, or objects…Maybe his behaviour to other people was bad? Maybe he was a jerk? “Any idea about this one?” the 4thprince asked, as the girl shook her head. “No…This time, no idea. Let’s go out, I have to think.” She muttered, going out of the house, looking up at the bright sky and watching the fluffy clouds go by which way the wind wants them to. “I keep thinking on this…I have a feeling that…I read about this somewhere…Some long time ago. Someone is trying to teach these victims a lesson. Don’t be a glutton. Don’t be greedy. But…I can’t figure out what this one did…What did he do so wrong that he had to be induced in a coma and suffer so long…You could see his muscles, and they were in such a horrible state, from not moving…How could he have ruined this city that he deserved this punishment-lesson?” she tried to think out loud, hoping that somehow, the answer will come by itself.

As she walked down the cramped streets of this place, the two princes trailing down behind her, trying to make out their own theories, she got snapped out of her mind palace by the angry shriek of a woman, fighting a weird-looking man in front of a big house.

“You will never get us out of business, so leave already! Spread your mindless indoctrination in another city, you’ve already angered everyone else in this one!” the woman, very beautiful, despite the twisted expression of rage on her face, shouted at the man, who, instead of having matching anger…Looked rather…Serene? “Miss, what is the problem, please? May we help you in any way?” the girl rushed to the woman’s side, holding onto her to calm her down, which worked well. “Ah, yes, you can help me by getting that stupid foreigner out of our city! We never wanted him, but those useless constables let him spread the word of his false God around this place, and now, look at him! Walking around as if this is HIS country! The audacity!” she scoffed, before shaking her head and inviting the trio inside, which made Y/N realise this house was a brothel – In fact, a pretty rich one – “You three are new here. What brings you to our city? The blooming cherry blossoms, perhaps?” the woman, Ying Yue, asked them, as she poured tea for them. “We came here to investigate the series of peculiar murders that took place in this city…But I never imagined, in my life, I would see a foreigner in the flesh! My father and the professors I learnt under wanted me to keep a broad mind, so I am somehow familiar with some literature from Europe, and yet…This man looked…Out of it.” Y/N explained, taking a sip from the aromatic tea, as her eyes were fixated on the visage of the beautiful matron. “Ah, yes, him. His name is…Difficult to pronounce. Alexander, he insists on calling himself. He is from a different religion, worshiping this Deity called ‘God’, and he wants to convert us. He is truly shameless…He keeps preaching how we are all sinful and need divine retribution. Honestly, I don’t understand him at all…Sometimes, he starts talking in a weird language, and waves around that wooden cross of his. He’s creepy. And he’s trying to get our brothel to close down and all the women become nuns and repent.” She shuddered with indignation as Y/N gasped in realization. “Oh…Heavens…I think I know what’s going on…He carries around a book with black leather covers called “Bible”, correct? Does he have any copies?” the girl asked, feeling the fire of understanding surging through her bloodstream, remembering the three booklets found at each scene of the crime. “Gosh, yes, he does. In fact, he spent months translating it in Chinese and handing out copies to every household, and all that. We tossed it into the fireplace, but…I believe there are some who still have it.” The matron explained, and just then, Yin Zhi pulled out the three books from his bag. “Like these ones?” The prince handed the woman the books, but she refused to touch them, disgust splattered all over her face. “Yes, like those. I don’t know what written in them, as I said, I never bothered with them, but hopefully, they will help you in some way.” The matron sighed, as she heard many of her girls giggling, and looking back, they were on the floor above, leaning on the bannister, looking down at the two men bashfully. “You two, it seems my girls have taken a liking to you. Why don’t you go have some fun? It’s on the house. Miss, if you want, we have a few men too, very handsome.” The matron rose from the table, trailing her hands down the men’s shoulders, trying to allure them in. “Not bad…” Yin Zhi muttered, looking up at the beautiful young girls waving at him. “Ah…Hahaha…U-Uhm…Thank you, I’ll pass. Thank you for the offer, I-I have to go now. I’ll see you two at the inn. Bye.”With that, the young girl didn’t wait to see whether the 4th prince accepted the offer or not, instead, she bolted out of the brothel and continued walking around the city, admiring the light from the many colourful paper lanterns hung around the place.

Instead, for the remaining of the evening, and dead into the night, she hovered over the book, skimming through it, this time, more attentively for any key word, or phrases that may get her to understand what was going on.

And then, she remembered her own words – Sinful, gluttony, greed – she said to herself, and there, she found the meaning of those words.

The Seven Deadly Sins.

Pride, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth.

That means…

The fat guy was forced to eat until his stomach exploded – That was Gluttony. The rich guy was literally buried under his own wealth – That was Greed The coma guy…He had nothing in his home, except for a bed…And he didn’t move for months on end… - That must be Sloth.

Pride, Envy, Wrath and Lust remained…

Lust?

LUST!

The brothel!

That’s why the Christianity envoy wanted to shut down the brothel! God didn’t see lightly any sin committed, and lust was a sinful indulgence!

She had to warn them!

As she ran out of her room, back to the brothel, she noticed smoke rising from it, as it was engulfed in flames… Shocked, Y/N ran inside the burning building, covering her face with her long sleeve so she won’t breathe in the smokes and die while trying to make rescue attempt. She bolted up the stairs, searching every room and evacuating the fainted women who didn’t have the time to leave…But did she really want to see them fainted, on the ground? But maybe seeing them would bring her a certainty that at least they aren’t in a place even more dangerous than this one.

But he saw them, and all her worries were bundled together in the pit of her stomach – The closest escape was through the window, even thought it was to far up, she was confident she could manage to drag them somehow, despite how heavy they were, to safety, outside.

Thank goodness I learnt martial arts – She thought to herself – As she picked the 4th Prince first, jumping down the window, then climbed back up for the 3rd prince to bring back to safety. She hovered over both of them, trying to find out if they breathed in too much smoke, since they passed out like that, as she coughed a bit to eliminate the smoke she inhaled, and thought how Yin Zhi seemed to be okay, but…Zhen Zhen wasn’t doing as brightly…He was barely breathing… So she attempted a procedure she learnt from the monks – To press on the chest at a patterned pace, and the lift the head up a bit and breathe air into their mouth – If it was a different circumstance, she would have been very flustered, considering their lips would touch, but now, she had no time to think twice, as she took deep breaths and exhaled, praying to the Heavens for him to wake up already.

And after a few procedures repeated, he slowly opened his beautiful dark eyes, and Y/N could only sigh, collapsing on his chest, breathing in relief.

“Thank Heavens you’re awake…I thought you were going to die…” she muttered more to herself than to him, before feeling a hand on the top of her head. “Thanks…” the prince spoke out in a tired voice before he, with some help, got in a sitting position. “Your clothes are ruined. And you’re covered in ashes. Come here.” Taking out a napkin once again, he cupped her cheek as he gently cleaned her face, as she looked away awkwardly. “What happened? Neither of you would get caught in a burning building. You could have jumped out of the window. I know you, of all people, wouldn’t get distracted by anything.” She asked, frowning and putting one of her hands over his, stopping him from moving his hand – And he did, shifting his gaze, looking right into her eyes – He could see the worry, the gentleness, the wonder…The love and relief – And the lingering feeling of her soft lips on his own was worth everything, and yet, he’d have rather taken the initiative and kissed her in a more fitting place. “The sake and tea we got served was drugged. We didn’t realise until it was too late. We thought at first it was only the alcohol, but the girls fainted faster than either of us. By the time we felt hazy, we thought it was from the alcohol, Yin Zhi is much more of a lightweight than I am…But when we smelt the smoke, we tried to get up, but found out we couldn’t. But how did you get here? I was sure you’d stay at home and analyse that book the whole night.” He spoke, and the girl cleared her throat awkwardly, chuckling and scratching the back of her head. “So, uhm…That’s what I was doing…And then I realized what the crimes meant. All of them represented one of the seven deadly sins from the Christian Bible. Gluttony, Greed and Sloth being the ones already committed…And, well…Lust was one of them, and I remembered the missionary trying to close down the brothel. And since you were here, I was afraid the perpetrator might try something, attempting to get rid of his pursuers…And when I came by, the brothel was already aflame, neither of you was anywhere to be seen, the matron and many of the citizens were just standing by, screaming, but nobody was trying to put out the fire…I had to do something, you know.” She explained, unconsciously putting a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Give props to the tigress to figure out something like that and to be brave and reckless enough to risk her own life to save a bunch of people that don’t have anything to do with her.” The prince chuckled, only to see the girl’s brows furrowing. “You’re making it seem as if I did a bad thing. Besides…Don’t just say there were people who didn’t have anything to do with me, as if we are strangers to each other. It’s rude.” She muttered, getting up and turning to his brother and slapping his face. “Get up, Zhi Zhi. I know you woke up by now. Don’t just eavesdrop on people’s conversations, you, jerk.” “At least don’t hit so hard, damn…Don’t hit your future husband like that too, he’ll leave you.” The 3rdprince rubbed his now red cheek, only to have the back of his head slapped by his brother as well. “I don’t need to bother with a husband, anyway.” She muttered, walking ahead at the front of the brothel where the matron sobbing, hugging her girls who were crying as well – But at least they woke up, all alive and well – Unlike the crumbling building that couldn’t resist the forces of nature…Induced nature, that is.

The women jumped on their saviour, praising and thanking her for saving their lives, but Y/N’s eyes were glued on something else – The foreigner holding a Bible and a cross in his hands, as his eyes were fixated on the fire while his lips were constantly moving – Was he preaching, she wondered?

No matter – Her rage was bubbling inside her heart so badly that she pushed aside the women and stomped to the foreigner, yelling at him and picking him up by the neck of his shirt, shaking him roughly.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY TO BURN PEOPLE?! HOW DARE YOU KILL THOSE OTHERS JUST LIKE THAT?! YOUR RELIGION IS SUPPOSED TO BE ALL ABOUT LOVE AND CARING FOR YOUR PEERS, NOT ABOUT KILLING AND OPRESSION!” she screamed in his face only for the man to blink in confusion and fear, but…He didn’t seem…Guilty…?? “M-Miss, I’m sorry, I know I am a foreigner and I’ve been trying to convert people and show them how great our religion is…But I’d never kill! The Lord is against harming others, at all costs!” the foreigner tried to explain himself to the girl, but she didn’t stop until she punched him to the ground, only to stop abruptly. “…So…You’re claiming you are innocent? For all 4 crimes? Even though the concept of seven deadly sins is a Christian thing?” she muttered, looking down at him. “Yes, miss, yes! After all, everyone in this city could have read the Bible, I translated it in many books, and delivered them to all households. I made sure to do that for all of them!” Alexander explained himself, and the girl could only nod, seeing the innocence in his eyes. “…If that is true, then, you have my apologies for misjudging you and accusing you of such atrocious crimes. I am sorry that some evil-doer is using your religion is a misguided way, and speaking your God’s name in vain. I don’t believe there is any believer in any faith that would appreciate their belief being treated this way.” Sighing, the girl helped the man up, only for him to take both of her hands in his, looking up at her with delight in his eyes. “Miss, you understand what my religion is all about! I am so happy to see someone so open to new things! Miss, wouldn’t you consider converting to Christianity for the greater good? I would gladly guide you through the path of redemption and make sure no trace of wrath lingers in your blood!” the girl’s first thought was to snatch her hands away – Touching was an intimate thing only lovers should do, not someone like him! – And yet…Her mid was somewhere else, and it wasn’t until Yin Zhen came to slap away his hands that she came back to. “Don’t touch other people so lightly, foreigner, especially women. It’s an act of intimacy in our country, and it shouldn’t be engaged in unless both parties are familiar with. Better get more accustomed to our ways before you decide to act so freely.” Poison dripped from Zhen’s words as he put his arm protectively around the girl. “Well, what do you expect from foreigners, any way? Especially one so outspoken? They come here, trampling our lands, as if they own the place, then they take away our lands, our women, and then will demand to be kings. Tsk.” Zhi spoke, which made the girl snap her head up at the foreigner. “Alexander, I need your opinion! Just now, you said wrath lingered in my heart, correct? Other than wrath, there is only Pride and Jealousy left. Do you think there is any possibility that either of these two would be a victim to the Seven Deadly Sins criminal?!” the girl’s voice was evidently worried, thinking back at the brothel incident. “The culprit could have put the brothel on fire at any time, and yet, they waited until both Yin Zhen and Yin Zhi were there, and they were drugged, along with the girls. This can’t be just a coincidence, can it?” Y/N spoke out, worried for her two friends. “Miss, this one here reeks of pride and vanity, that much is obvious, while this one’s jealousy can be seen from miles away. Maybe people from around are used to such behaviour, it may be normal for you, and yet, from someone from abroad, with a different kind of lifestyle and society, everything is different. If you think either of you may be in danger, then please, do be careful, and please protect this city. It’s a beautiful place with beautiful people, but it’s been tainted by this killer’s darkness.”With a small smile, the foreigner left the place, as the girl’s hand fell to her side. “…Well, future Emperor, how does it feel to have escaped your first assassination attempt?” she asked dryly, walking back to the inn, while the other two were behind her. “Tsk, are you really going

to listen to that guy? Who does he call vain, anyway?” the 3rd prince scoffed, only for the other two to look at him with a bored expression. “Honestly…” they sighed in unison, not wanting to address the Envy part on Yin Zhen’s side – Why would he be jealous, anyway? And the foreigner only said that after the prince pushed him away from her…

The room was silent for the longest time, and they were ready to go to sleep, until the girl decided to go on the roof of the inn and look up at the moon, as she felt it helped her think better. Being alone always made her feel much better and to think clearer. The moon was full, and she could even see the bunny of Chang’e, the Moon Goddess, and she smiled, resting her chin on her knees.

“You shouldn’t be out alone.” The familiar voice of the 4th Prince came up from behind her, but she could only shrug simply. “I can take care of myself. You’re the one who got drugged and almost died. You were careless and distracted.” She didn’t look at him – In fact, she didn’t shift her gaze from the moon at all. “I admit my mistakes. I was careless. I hoped that I would find out vital information on the people around here – Brothel girls are always the best people to ask for dark secrets, since men are intoxicated and speak freely around them – Alas, all I found out was that the constable is a frequent guest there…But never as a client. They said he was concerned about their well-being. They also said the ones who died deserved to die, since they were dead beats. And the last victim was a lazy who never in his life worked, so his lesson was to contribute to society in any way.” The prince explained, but the girl already figured out as much. “You would know best about being intoxicated and being vulnerable around women, wouldn’t you?” she muttered softly, but her mind was in a complete other place. “Do you blame me for remaining there with my brother?” he asked, sitting down next to her. “No.” her answer was simple and blunt, but he could tell, it didn’t come from the heart. “You should.” He admitted his mistake without a second thought. “…You’re a man. That’s what you do. Besides, you should get used to having lots of beautiful women around you. You’ll be the Emperor one day. You have no choice.” She said in a cold, rather impersonal tone, not wanting to dwell further into this awkward and tragic discussion. “One man can only love a woman alone. His heart is his own, while his body is the country’s. Men who truly love more than one woman are feeble, and should not be trusted.” He explained softly, but the girl didn’t spare him any glance. “In Europe, a King has only one wife, who is the Queen…Only their child is legitimate and the heir to the throne. Any…Mistake the King might do is swept under the rug, and the bastard is hidden from the world, or even killed. And the Queen…The poor Queen is all alone. Her sole role is to bear children and continue the lineage. They are not allowed to do anything, while the country abuses her body and soul, but the King can do anything he pleases, for the whole power is in his hands. Meanwhile…Here, the Emperor is forced to have multiple women as wives, and all can bear legitimate heirs…And yet, ask any woman, and you will see just how lonely and desperate for affection they are. They are not truly loved…But the Emperor goes to them when he remembers them…And sometimes, doesn’t even stay the night. The visits are brief…And when she grows old…She is forgotten, just like a wilting flower. I wonder…Which fate is more cruel? And also…Why should it be cruel at all? The Sun and the Moon are both beautiful, and yet, all alone. Maybe it’s better to be alone than heart broken.” She sighed, getting up and turning to leave, only for the man to stop her by embracing her from behind. “Y/N…Can you feel my heart beating? This heart belongs to you and you alone. It has been that way since we were children. I won’t deny, what you said is true in its whole entirety, but I never felt and thought the same way about a woman as I do for you. I am a man of my word, Y/N, and I vow to you – I vow on this country, and on my name as the next Emperor, that to me, there will never be anyone more important to you. So please, allow me to protect your heart, and I shall gladly give you mine for you to hold. Please trust me as much as you did when you let me catch you whenever you’d jump from the top of a tree, or when you’d find out a secret from your spying around the palace, and you couldn’t help but tell it to me, and me alone. I am yours for the rest of my life…So in turn, be mine, and mine alone.” His embrace tightened, and the girl felt hotter and hotter, her face became flustered, and she could feel her heart beating faster from emotion…And worry. “You are asking a great deal, you know, don’t

you? Something like this can’t be given away so lightly. It’s my heart, and I have only one. Only I know how to protect it…If I give it to you…Any wrong move can make it fall to the ground and shatter. And trust me, there is no remedy for a broken heart. What will you do then…My dear Zhen Zhen?” the term of endearment that she hasn’t used since they were children…How melodious and loving it sounded…The little fawn came back to him. “I would never let that happen. If it falls, I will fall with it, so I can catch it before it reaches the ground. If water rains on it, I will cover it with my own self, so it won’t get wet. If it’s too hot, I will fan it myself, and if it’s too cold, I will make sure to warm it until it’s not trembling any longer. So trust me, just one more time, and I promise you, you will never regret it.” He kissed her temple softly as his hands reache her own, intertwining his fingers with hers – He could feel her trembling softly – He knew the effect he had on her, and of her conflicting thoughts. “…Let me think on it, and I will tell you my answer by the time we reach the capital. Until then…Let’s catch the culprit and be rid of this pestilence. Actually…Let’s visit the constable, for a change. I believe that…He is not as innocent as he seems…And his uselessness may be just an act. If you can’t trust a constable, then who can you trust, the saying goes. So, what do you say? Are you in?” she turned around, failing to meet his eyes, but she could see his smile…As beautiful and confident as ever. “Let’s catch him.” He nodded, and together, they went around the house, their sword in their hands, carefully, and they were going to meet at the back of it, while they investigate every little bit of it – And yet, by the time the prince got to the back…There was no sign of the girl at all. “Y/N? Where are you?” he tried to look around for her…And yet…The only clue that indicated the girl was ever around this place was the blue ribbon that used to hold her hair up.

However, the darkness of the night became an even darker abyss for the prince as well, as he was hit in the head with a metallic object, which had him hazy enough to be dragged into the warehouse just behind the constable’s house. There, he got tied to a chair in the back, as the place was illuminated by a bunch of paper lanterns – And then he saw her – In the same state as him, only she seemed much…Out of it?

“What did you drug me with?” her voice sounded like a drunk man – Slurred and groggy – And yet, his eyes were only set on the small, shiny object in the constable’s hand. It was foreign, and strange…It was…Weird. “It matters not what I did to you, Miss Detective. What matters is that here, you and your dear Prince will face your demise!” the constable, Rui, grinned creepily at her. “…A constable from hell. How unlucky for the people here. Why bring us here?” she continued asking, trying to keep a grip on reality. ��Once the verdict is done, I will execute the law. Imperial Detective Constable Y/N. You protect the law. But what have you done wrong? Go on, tell me. I know you know. That friendly foreigner already told you.” He insisted, crouching down to her level. “…My heart is filled with Wrath.” She muttered, feeling her head swimming and spinning in a vertigo mixed with a hurricane. “Yes, good, good, the sinful wench acknowledges her evil-doings! Then, you know that I have to kill you, just as I killed the others! They only brought misfortune to our beloved city! And you…You are the worst of them all. Wrath is the reason everything good gets destroyed. Women, of all people, should be gentle, calm and understanding. You? You behave like a mad war criminal who seeks blood alone!” he screamed in her face, as she could only roll her eyes at his stupid allegations. “Oh, spare me the bullshit. You are the one who bent the law, punish yourself first. You are stupid.” She groaned, feeling a headache creeping. “SHUT UP, BITCH! Who do you think you are, speaking like that to me?!” he said, slapping her face and snatching away the Imperial Token given to her by the Emperor. “You think if you have this token given away from that conceited fraud you call an Emperor, you will be protected from anything? NO! In fact, you and your two silly princes just signed a death sentence coming here! But, alas, I couldn’t do away with them when I wanted to, you just HAD to folly my plans! Very well, then, I shall do away with you first, while he watches you physically feel the very same wrath you inflicted upon this world!” and thus, he took a syringe and, despite all her struggling, she was still bound to the chair, and he had no problem injecting her with more of whatever that horrible liquid was – It made her even hazier than before, and her vision became blurry – Not even by straining, could she see well in front of her anymore – And it made her panic, trying to breathe faster, as she felt the cold metallic barrel of the weapon placed cruelly on her forehead – It only made her skin feel even hotter than it already was. “So, I’m guilty…For being alive. For trying to save people. And you…You are…Innocent. You are a hero…For killing. You are no God. You have no right to take away the lives God gave to those people. You are not the Judge, nor the Executioner. If you so firmly believe in Christianity, you would know that God hates no one – In fact, he loves all he created, equally – And would never approve of such senseless killing. You just chose to pick apart a few paragraphs that suited your narrative… And you went with it, using a foreign Deity as your scape goat. You are absolutely pathetic and a sorry excuse of a man and a constable. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Her words shocked the prince, but also made him afraid for her – Unlike her, he could see the twisted look of anger on his face – And he could anticipate his next move – As he saw the culprit strike down the girl once again, with such force that the chair tipped over and she fell on the ground with it. “I shall now pass my verdict to this witch! Those who are foolish and arrogant are unreasonable. It is from excessive arrogance, for deceiving the holy court and committing falsehood…I declare Y/N, the Imperial Detective Constable, to be executed at exactly 2:00 in the morning.” He declared, looking at the sand falling down in an hourglass, and leaving the room just briefly. “Yin Zhen…Is there any way out for us?”Y/N asked, hoping she was loud enough for the prince to

hear. “Yes, there is. I just need a little more time. Y/N…Do you know what that metallic object was?” he asked, trying to cut away the ropes with a stray nail he found on the chair. “It’s a gun. Horrible European invention. Honestly…I’m so tired. I just…Want to rest for a while…And get this over with…I want back home…I want to see the mountains in Hunan again…And the flowers bloom. I want to play in the river and catch fish…And pick fruit from up the tree…And make wine and cakes…And have them with you….Yin Zhen?” she let her head back on the chair’s seat, looking up at the wooden ceiling, as she sighed deeply. “Let’s get the hell out of here, I’m so done with sins and whatever.” And thanking herself for training to be flexible, and that the ropes were tied as neatly as they should have been, she bent down enough for her tied up hand to reach into her hair and pull away the hair ornament that had a very sharp needle, so she could cut away her restraints with moderate ease.

However, as soon as she got up and tried to take a step forward…She stumbled and almost fell down. “Is this what it’s like to be drunk? Because if it is…I hate it.” She groaned, gripping her head, as everything began to spin in around her at an even faster pace, so badly, that she had to catch onto something. “Y/N, look out!” the prince yelled at her, as the constable came back, ready to pounce on her, but she turned around, slamming her needle hand into his flesh, as she tried to pull away his gun-hand from her as much as possible.

However, the needle was very old, and it broke from all the commotion – Her drugged self was none the better either – And with just a bit more strength put into it, the constable wrenched his gun arm from her grasp and he punched her to the ground, knocking out the air from her lungs. It really pissed her off, and she wanted to rip him apart limb from limb, but the drugs were too strong still to allow her to do anything that she wanted to do.

As she struggled to get up, she heard the unfamiliar sound of the gun cocking, and then, a demonically loud explosion – Was that the sound of the gun shooting? She wondered, and yet, why didn’t it hurt her? Why didn’t she feel anything? She was sure that, should he shoot, he would shoot her – He wanted her to be in pain and feel the physical consequences of implied wrath.

“Y/N, are you alright?!” ah, that’s Yin Zhen calling out her name like that! And he was struggling…Yes, he must be wrestling the killer. “Yeah, I’m good, but be careful with that gun! One shot and it could kill you!” she called back, and got on her knees as soon as she heard the sound of the heavy, metal object fall to the ground.

As she heard the two men struggling to take the other down, she searched around almost blindly for the gun, and after some time, she finally managed to catch a hold of it, and with shaky hands, she properly held it in her hands, the barrel pointing forwards. The killer was dressed I dark colours, while Yin Zhen’s whole outfit was a bright gold, so, as Y/N strained her eyes to see better, she took a deep breath and pulled the trigged – And then static – Her ears were ringing, and she groaned, the gun falling from her hands as she gripped her head, covering her ears, hoping the horrible ringing noise would stop already.

“Yin Zhen, are you okay?!” she called out, struggling to get back to the shaky reality, hoping the drug’s effect would go away faster already. “…Yeah. You killed him. It’s finally over.” He sighed, going to her side and picking her up bridal style, leaving the place and going back to the inn. However, instead of going back inside, the prince made a detour, and chose to go to the highest hill, where the flowery trees were untouched by the city. “How did you know where to shoot, despite being drugged and not seeing well?” he asked, very curious, as they sat down on the grass, at the bottom of a tree. “…I may sometimes make fun of you for wearing such bright and colourful clothes…But if it was Yin Zhi, I wouldn’t have been able to pick apart the two silhouettes. So, to answer your question…Pure luck, I guess.” She shrugged, sighing and leaning her head on his shoulder, looking up at the moon, seeing it fall down, as the dawn was beginning to come, and the sky was painted in the most beautiful colours there were – And even better, her vision was beginning to clear up. “Let’s hope we won’t have to deal with anything foreign again. This was more of a drag than it should have been.”The prince said, and the girl could only grumble in agreement. “Ah…Right. Uhm…This…It broke. I don’t think it can be repaired anymore.” She muttered sadly as she took out the broken hair pin from her pocket. “This…I didn’t realise you still had this. It’s been so long since I gave you this pin.” He gingerly took it in his hands, but it wasn’t sorrow on his face – No, instead, he was smiling, realizing the feelings she had for him were as strong as ever. “…It’s the only piece of jewellery I wore since then.” Her voice was soft, the little fawn was brave, and speaking. She was honest with herself, with her heart…And with him. “No matter. I can give you any jewellery you want. This was old and I’m surprised it lasted as much.” He chuckled lightly, but the girl shook his head, confusing him. “…I don’t want any jewellery, Yin Zhen. You don’t get it. This…You picked this, thinking of me. You wanted this hair pin to be mine. To wear it. You thought it suited me. You thought it would make me think of you…And it did. And I only wore this one, and every day. I knew it would keep me safe…So I put it on again just before approaching that house. Guess your heart will always protect me. So, you understand? I don’t want just any jewellery. I want a piece of your heart, soul and thoughts to be in anything you give me, otherwise, it’s completely worthless to me.” She explained, snatching back the pieces of the broken accessory, making the prince smile fondly at her. “Very well, I understand what you mean, and I know just what to do. So, for the first gift I will give you…Have this jade pendant. I had it made for me a long while ago. It’s been mine, so, it’s a part of me. And now, I give it to you, to watch over you and protect you. I held it on my sword’s scabbard, I think it suits the black and gold of it very well…And so will yours.” He declared, taking both his and her swords, and trading the two pendants on each sword. “And I shall take yours, as a gift, so I can have a piece of your heart with me as well, wherever I go and you’re not next to me.” His teasing smile crept on his face as he heard her chuckle, snatching her pendant from his hand, tying it to his sword by herself. “That’s much better. It counts when the other gives it to you themselves, dummy.” She let him hold her to his side, as they watched the sky in silence.

When morning finally came, they got up, ready to wake up a very grumpy 3rdPrince, then went to the brothel matron to tell her they will be leaving, and who the real killer was, so they can find themselves a new law enforcer…This time, not a homicidal one.

“Are you sure you won’t be staying one more night, cutie? I mean, we didn’t even have the time to get acquainted with each other…It’s pitiful.” The woman whined, but the prince was indifferent. “There is only one woman alone who owns my heart.” He chuckled, waving the girls goodbye as they got on their horses and went back to the capital. “Very smooth, Princeling.” The girl laughed at him, kicking the horse to go faster, almost as if she was challenging him for a race. “I know what I want in this life.”He declared, and for the remaining long journey, they’ve been teasing each other enough for the 3rd prince to curse them regularly…More so than usual.

“I am very proud of the three of you for solving such a horrible crime. And to think the constable himself was the perpetrator all along! To attempt to commit such a horrible act of regicide…I am glad he got killed by his own weapon.” The Emperor sighed, stroking his beard and shaking his head in disbelief and disappointment. “Father, without Y/N, we couldn’t have done it. She played the crucial role in all the mystery-solving and having the courage to fire such a dangerous and strange contraption. It was lucky she was versed enough in foreign culture and literature for her to pick up on the hints given by the killer at each crime.” The 4th Prince praised the Detective girl, who merely cleared her throat awkwardly. “Your father will be very proud of you when I tell him of your brave deeds! I will have to think of a reward for you, but if you have something in your mind, do tell, and anything shall be granted.”The Emperor spoke, dismissing them. As they bowed, ready to exit the room, the girl smirked, turning around playfully. “I want to marry your son.” She laughed, running away from the Palace of Mental Cultivation, back to her own small place, leaving the two princes and the Emperor to blink and gasp in shock at her boldness. “About time.” Yin Zhen huffed, smirking, as he rushed to catch up with her as well. “Those two are such idiots…But I guess…Together, they will be good rulers in the future. Don’t you think, Father?” the 3rdPrince smirked in amusement, looking out at those two. “This youthfulness and open-mindedness is sure to be a great addition to this country in the future. Until them, let them be children at heart, for just a little while longer.” The Emperor chuckled whole-heartedly, closing his eyes and reminding his own youth, as it was so long ago.

Back at her palace, she hid behind the heavy drapes as she quickly and very skillfully fidgeted with a red rope – She’s been practicing it for a long time, and by now, she could say she was sort of an expert at this – And before she realized it, the drape was strongly pulled away, and in front of her, an amused prince towered over her, not caring about the poor maid’s pleas to get out.

“Found you.” He watched carefully as he noticed her face raise, and her eyes directly look into his – She got more courage, this fawn – He wondered if she really was just a sweet fawn anymore, or if another spirit animal found its way inside her heart. “Found me.” She mused, holding up the red knot for him to take. “This…This is the Love Knot, isn’t it? I’ve never seen it before.” He spoke, taking it from her hands. “And now, you give it to me. When did you even have the time to make something so intricate and complex, anyway?” he asked, looking at it with adoration. “I practiced it a lot when I was in the mountains, training. And besides…You sure took your sweet time getting here. Were you really so stunned by my statement that it took you so long to move?”she teased him, only for the man to quickly cup her face and kiss her – Her lips were as sweet as the last time they touched, and yet, now it was a proper kiss, and now, he felt her slender, small hands over his, as she deepened it with even more love, not wanting to let go of him any time soon. “I’m not the only one who loves to surprise.” The prince let out a soft, content breath, as he watched her eyes sparkle brighter than the moon itself…And she looked very much kissed – And her lips…They were plump, and in very need of more attention. “Clearly.” The corner of her mouth sprung upwards, very amused by his statement. “So, princeling, if your Father decides not to kill me after the stunt I pulled at the palace…Then, you got your answer. But, be very aware, I am not afraid to commit regicide on you, should you be a jerk to be at any time, understood?” she glared at him, more or less seriously, as she grabbed the front of his clothes, dragging him down to her level. “Crystal clear, darling.” He chuckled, nodding in understanding. “Good. Then, kiss me again.” She ordered, and he could only comply. “Any time, Y/N. Any time.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3549

Warnings: None

A/n Thanks for your patience, and happy reading :)

Our first day of traveling is rough.

In my months of comfort in Imladris, I easily forgot the vigor with which galloping on a horse shakes you. By the time we stop for the night, every muscle and bone in my body is screaming for rest. And, despite Haldir’s assurance that I will get used to the weight and awkwardness of the metal that is somehow both cold and hot, the chainmail has grated on my nerves all day.

Haldir helps me down from Faervel and I wince when my feet make contact with the ground.

“Walk around for a while,” he advises, then nods towards Glorfindel. “I’ll return later — I’m going to coordinate watches and take the first shift.”

“Okay.” I smile up at him, waiting for a kiss goodbye, but he just nods once and then turns, off to get to work.

I purse my lips. I guess he’s sore from riding, too.

Trying to push the uneasiness from my mind, I spend just a few moments walking and stretching before I turn to my own tasks. I’m in charge of Faervel and two of Glorfindel’s horses, so caring for them will occupy me until supper.

{***}

When Baranor calls for dinner, I hurry to our campsite. We are close enough to Elrond’s borders that Haldir and Glorfindel feel we can light a small fire and, while nothing on the road could compare to the delicacies served at Elrond’s table, a meal cooked with fire is much better than stale bread and soggy fruit. I sit on a rock near the flames, accepting the bowl Baranor places in my hands. Alex, Glorfindel, and one of the extra guards, Nodron, join us.

After a few minutes of eating in tired silence, I hear footsteps behind me, and turn with a smile to welcome Haldir from watch. He nods at me and accepts the bowl handed to him. He sits next to me on the rock — that’s normal — but keeps distance between us and barely spares a glance in my direction. Instead, he alternates between talking strategy with Glorfindel and Nodron and scanning our surroundings. I huff, eating my soup in silence. This earns me a brief raised eyebrow, but his focus soon returns to the mountains and his conversations.

What is going on with him? Did I upset him somehow? Is he grouchy from the day of traveling?

With my food finished and no one talking to me, I have no reason to stay gathered by the fire. I stand and take my bowl to the stream, wash it out, and then return it to the bag holding our cooking supplies.

“I’m going to bed unless anyone needs anything,” I declare, picking my bag up from the ground. I’m met with shrugs and murmurs, but nothing more.

With a huff, I throw my bedroll on the ground, spread it out, and take my hair out of its braid. I roll onto my back, frowning when I notice that the stars are covered by clouds. The chainmail digs into my skin, and I shift uncomfortably. I sit up and take a cursory look around. No one can see me. How would they know?

Quickly, I stand and pull off my tunic, then tug the chainmail after it. As soon as the biting, cold metal is gone, I put my tunic back on, eager for its warmth. Already, I feel better.

“Put it back on.”

I yelp, the metal falling to the ground with a tinny clink. I whip around to face Haldir, who has appeared out of nowhere. “Where did you come from?”

My eyes have yet to adjust to the night, so I can’t read his expression, but I do see when he shrugs his shoulders. “You said you were going to bed, no? So, I followed.”

I narrow my eyes, deciding to just get to the point. “I’m not sleeping in the chainmail. It’s uncomfortable, and I don’t sleep well on the road as it is.”

“You are sleeping in the chainmail,” he counters, no room for flexibility in his voice. He bends over to lay his own bedroll a few feet from mine. Huh. Does he not want to sleep closer to me? “We could be attacked at any moment, including during the night.”

I shift on my feet, glancing warily at the peaks and valleys that surround us.

Haldir huffs, looking up at me from the ground. I’ve adjusted to the limited light and can now see the exasperated look he gives me. “I do not want to frighten you, but I do want you to be realistic. Should we be attacked, the chainmail could safe your life, so you will wear it. We are not having this discussion again.”

I set my hands on my hips and grit my teeth. So he ignores me all day and now he’s talking to me like I’m one of his wardens? Oh, no. I tilt my head to the side, staring him down. “Have you ever heard of a compromise? Do you even know what the word means?”

He stands, his towering height and stern expression creating quite an intimidating presence. But unfortunately for him, he’s kissed me softly, cuddled closer to me in the middle of the night, and told me how much he loves me. It’s kind of hard to be intimidated by someone after that.

He sets his feet. “This is not a question of compromise, it is a question of safety. I—”

“—It is a question of compromise, actually.” I cut him off. “I agreed—begrudgingly, might I add—to wear the uncomfortable, heavy chainmail for this journey. I’m only doing it for you. So that means you have to meet me in the middle and give a little. If we’re attacked, I promise I’ll put it back on. There. Compromise.”

He only raises an eyebrow. “So you are telling me that, should orcs rain arrows upon us, chaos erupt, and a legion of warriors come at us with sword and spear, you are going to take the time to undress, put the armor on, redress, and then attempt to save your life?”

Well. He’s got me there. I sniff, not ready to let him win this. “Yes.”

He doesn’t move. “Then by all means, when you study strategy for over three thousand years, fight in countless battles, and lead the most formidable military force in the realm, you can make that choice. But for now, you are a fragile, stubborn, human woman that, despite her ability to make me want to pull my hair out, I love very, very much. So you will wear the chainmail at all times.” Without breaking eye contact, he bends down, scoops the metal up, and pushes it into my hands.

I grit my teeth.

With a huff, I tug my tunic off once more. I feel a deep satisfaction when I finally make him break his stoic demeanor. He watches for a fraction of a second before nearly hurting his neck snapping his head to the sky so quickly. I smirk, pulling the chainmail over my body once more, then adding the tunic.

“You can look now.”

He clears his throat and lowers his eyes to mine, nodding once. “Thank you.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t do it for your gratitude, Marchwarden.”

He shakes his head and lies down on his bedroll. I sit on mine, gathering my cloak over me like a blanket before lying back.

Neither of us speaks.

After a few minutes, soft noises arise in the vicinity as those not on watch make their way to their own bedrolls. Footsteps crush the grass near my head and something heavy and warm drops over me. I raise up on my elbow, opening my eyes to the tall, grinning figure of Glorfindel.

“Here you go, dear Lady Cosima,” he declares in a near sing-song voice. “I have brought you an extra blanket. It seems you are in the path of a cold front, and I would not want you to suffer for it.”

I turn to look over my shoulder at Haldir, biting my lip to stop the laughter escaping at his glower. Glorfindel’s meaning is lost on no one.

I turn back to my friend and thank him.

“It is no problem,” he waves it off, still grinning from ear to ear. “Though, if you continue to find yourself in this uncomfortable position, my bedroll is nearer to the fire.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You would switch with me?”

“No.” He winks, making sure both Haldir and I can see it. “I would allow you to join me.”

My mouth falls open, my shocked laugher sounding through the clearing. I grin, playing along. “I shall keep that in mind.”

With a final, pointed look at Haldir, Glorfindel returns to his own bedroll.

I pull the new blanket over my shoulders, snuggling into it. It smells like the outdoors, and I breathe it in. The exhaustion of the day hits me. “Goodnight Haldir, I love you,” I call, not bothering to turn around.

His annoyed grumble is the last thing I hear before sinking into sleep.

{***}

The sun rises and brings wth it a cool chill, hinting at the autumn to come. I change into fresh clothes and brush my teeth quickly, re-braiding my hair as I go. With as many of us as there are, it doesn’t take long to tack up the horses, pack the bags, dole out breakfast, and get on our way.

Haldir smiles when I meet him at Faervel’s side. He reaches for me and I think he’s about to pull me in for a hug and make up for our disagreement last night, but instead of encircling me, his hands pat at my sides — he’s feeling for the chainmail!

I gasp, pulling away from him and glare at him in accusation. “You don’t trust me!”

He only smirks haughtily and drops to one knee, waiting to help me onto the horse. “Just checking. Now please get on the horse, Cosima, we haven’t got all day.”

I grumble and press my foot into his hands with more force than is strictly necessary. He chuckles and swings me up, settling in front of me a moment later. He nudges Faervel to encourage him to move forward, quickly guiding us nearer to the front of the line. While Glorfindel is here, he and one of his guards take point. Faervel seems dissatisfied with this, and Haldir frequently has to to tug on the reins to remind him to keep his place in line.

Behind me, I hear the familiar sound of Roch’s whinny, and I turn around in greeting. Rumil and I lock eyes. I smile. He clenches his jaw and lifts his chin in the air, avoiding my gaze. I sigh sadly and turn to face forward once more. I guess I deserve that.

Haldir shifts and a warm, calloused hand encases mine against his stomach. When he speaks, it’s in a voice so low I can barely hear it — probably to keep the others from listening in. “It won’t be like this forever.”

But I don’t have forever. And neither do you.

I bite the words back before they can escape my lips. It’s something Haldir and I both already know. Saying it out loud won’t do us any good. “Has he spoken to you?”

Haldir shakes his head, eyes continuing their scan of our surroundings. “Not yet, outside of what is necessary. But he will, I’m sure of it.”

The hope for a future reconciliation will have to be enough. With a sigh, I lean my cheek against Haldir’s shoulder blade, Faervel’s trot jostling me from side to side. We haven’t even been on the road an hour and I’m already longing for my bedroll.

“Did you really not sleep well,” Haldir asks, a hint of guilt in his voice.

I decide to let him off the hook. He really is only trying to keep me safe. “Yes, but it’s not the chainmail’s fault. It’s just getting used to the ground, and I was cold, and being on the road again…well, you know.” I sigh again, stopping my words. He can fill in the rest of my sentence. He knows well that, though I feel better traveling in a larger company and with some self-defense training behind me, being in the orcs’ territory still makes me nervous since the attack.

Haldir doesn’t say anything for a while, just nods absently while his eyes scan over the ridges to our left and right. “Can I join you tonight after watch?”

I blink. “Of course.” Then, I psych myself up, hoping I don’t sound too unsure or hurt. But I have to ask — it’s been bothering me since yesterday. “Why didn’t you last night?”

Haldir makes a noise of apology. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Our nights together have been in the privacy of your bedroom. I didn’t want to put you in a position where you would be close to me while surrounded by others.”

I breathe out a shaky laugh, glad that’s all it is. “That doesn’t bother me! I just worried that you didn’t want to be seen with me so publicly.” I take another deep breath, forcing myself to get the words out. “You’ve pretty much ignored me since we left Imladris.”

His shoulders tense. Then, he twists in his seat just enough that we can look each other in the eye. “I’m sorry, it was not my intention to treat you that way. It’s just—” he sighs, shaking his head. “I can afford to relax in Imladris and will be able to once we get to Lothlórien, but the road is completely different. Say I were to kiss you or hold your hand, and become distracted. In that one moment, I could miss something, and that could cost the life of someone here. I can’t risk that.”

I nod, the pieces coming together. “I can understand that.” I raise up, just high enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

{***}

Haldir takes the second watch shift, so I fall asleep on my own. But late in the night, I’m awoken by warm arms encircling me and pulling me against a solid chest.

I smile, snuggling into the warmth. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, mindful of our companions.

“It’s alright.” I match his volume. “How was watch?”

He pushes a strand of hair over my shoulder and smooths it down my back. “Quiet.”

I hum in response, already slipping back into sleep.

He presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “Goodnight, melethril.”

{***}

An hour into our journey the next morning, dark clouds form ahead.

Haldir curses under his breath.

I rest my chin against his back, trying to use him to block the wind. “That doesn’t look fun.”

“No, it does not,” he agrees, voice grave.

The wind blows again, and I shiver.

“Not minding the layer of armor now, are you,” he teases, tilting this head slightly so I can see the upturn of his cheek.

I roll my eyes, not about to admit that I’m thankful for the extra layer. “Eyes on the path, Marchwarden.”

He leans to the side and hands me the reins. “Here.” Before I can register what he’s doing, he’s gripped Faervel’s mane and swung from the front of the horse to the back.

“What—” I sputter, whipping my head around to stare at him in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

“Practice.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but his chest puffs out proudly.

I shake my head, still trying to figure it out. But all thoughts die when he shifts, pressing himself against my back. He takes his cloak and arranges it to fall over my shoulders and cross at my front, providing another layer of warmth. He takes the reins from me and holds them in front, his arms resting against my sides.

I lean back against his chest. “I’m not gonna lie, I like this way of riding much better.”

He makes a noise of appreciation. “I thought you might.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek then returns to all-business.

I purse my lips. I never really considered how frustrating it would be to be in the constant company of others for three weeks straight. Because right now, I want to turn around and kiss him until neither of us can breathe, but I can’t.

But the thoughts of what else I’d like to do to him wash away with the torrent of rain that falls on us. I gasp loudly, streams of cold water pelting my face. The cloak Haldir had made for me is helping — I’m not soaked through like last time, but the rain is quite persistent. I look over my shoulder, seeking out Alex. He slouches on the back o Baranor’s horse, hunched against the wind and the cold.

I turn my head to face forward, calling loud enough that I hope Haldir can hear me over the thunderous rain. “Is it warmer in Lothlórien?”

His chest twitches against my back as he shifts to accommodate Faervel’s changed gait. “It rarely gets cold enough for snow, but we do see the odd storm like this, and that can really drop the temperature.”

“Wonderful,” I grumble, and shrink against him in hopes of warming up. Cold water follows the tendrils of my hair and slides down my back, over my chest, under my legs. It’s so uncomfortable. But the only thing to do is press on.

{***}

We stop for the night in the same cave we rested in on the way to Imladris. Glorfindel orders a fire to be started immediately, and his guards get to work. Minutes later, Haldir leads my shivering form deep into the cave and stops me next to the flames.

“I hate the cold,” I grumble, reaching my hands as close to the fire as I dare.

“Agreed,” Haldir murmurs, peeling the cloak from my body and lying it on the ground where it can dry. A second later, he hands me a pair of my least-wet clothes. The ellyn in the cave respectfully turn their backs while I change, but I know I’ve seen most of them naked by now, so they’ve probably seen me as well.

Ah, the joys of traveling.

Alex collapses on the other side of the fire, giving me a haggard nod. “Doing okay?”

I grin tiredly back at him. “About the same as you.”

He chuckles ruefully, shaking his head.

Haldir throws a blanket over my shoulders and tosses one to Alex. They were encased in a material similar to my cloak, so they’re mostly dry. “I will return shortly. Do not move,” he cautions, standing and leaving my side.

Alex and I warm up in silence, each of us too occupied by our discomfort. After a while, I turn to speak to him, but he has fallen asleep, snoring softly against his bedroll.

Minutes later, Haldir reappears with dinner, cooked on the larger fire near the front of the cave. It seems this one is only meant for the freezing humans.

“How are you,” he asks, tugging the blanket tighter around me.

I chuckle at his obvious worry. “Much better, thank you. And thanks for dinner.”

Haldir grimaces. “Thank Glorfindel. Though, proceed with caution, he is not an excellent cook.”

Warily, I take a bite of whatever dinner is, then scrunch up my face at the oddly sour taste. “No, he is not.”

Haldir laughs, settling himself behind me and pulling my back against his chest. “Regardless, I still recommend you eat.”

The empty feeling in my stomach concurs. We sit in silence, warming up and eating.

Haldir picks up one of my strands of hair so it catches the light of the fire. “It’s so wavy when it’s wet.”

I snort. “And it’s going to be frizzy when it dries. How do you get your hair to look so nice all the time?”

He grins, jokingly tossing his hair into my face. “Genetics, my love.”

At this, I laugh loudly, then clamp a hand over my mouth at Alex’s sleepy noise of annoyance. Haldir and I don’t move until Alex turns over and his snores echo through the cave once more.

Despite my efforts, a yawn escapes, betraying the cold exhaustion already weighing heavily in my bones. I push my bowl into Haldir’s hands. “You can finish my food. I’m more tired than hungry.”

Haldir places the bowl on the ground. “No thank you, I’ve already had more than enough of Glorfindel’s cooking.”

I grin, not blaming him one bit. I stretch out and, getting the hint, Haldir shifts to give me enough room to recline on my bedroll. To my pleasant surprise, he doesn’t rise to join the others. Instead, he lies down next to me and allows me to press my face into his chest, sandwiched between him and the warmth of the fire.

I glance up at him, forcing my eyes to stay open. “You don’t have watch tonight?”

“Not tonight,” he promises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Sleep well.”

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy :) Let me know if you would like a tag!

|next chapter|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger 

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows

[castiels-majestic-wings]

Sixth Sense - Chapter 1

Summary: Ever since you were young, you had a special power - a sixth sense. S.H.I.E.L.D somehow knew that you would be an asset in the future. So after Loki attacks New York. Will you be able to understand his reasoning? Or will he stay your enemy forever?

Paring: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings: None

Posted: 27/12/2020

A/N: This chapter is based during The Avengers, the dialogue isn't the exact same as in the movies but I tried to get it as accurate as I could.

Also thank you @lovermrjokerr for proofreading and giving me the courage to post this.

You didn't think this ability would get you anywhere, but S.H.I.E.L.D had found you. They said it's a unique ability that they could use to their advantage. You didn't like the thought of being a tool in their game but the arrangements they had settled for you were too good to decline.

A full-floor in Stark tower to yourself. The floor right beneath the penthouse. But right now wasn't good. You weren't skilled enough to be in battle. But you were a tactician. You helped from the sidelines. Helping them find their next move. Of course, it was only Tony in the past. Now it's The Avengers. Six people. Tactics for one was easy but six? You didn't think you'd be able to do it. But you had to try.

You knew there was a war going on. Tony told you to keep out of it. But you couldn't. You saw Loki on the balcony that connected to the penthouse. You had stayed hidden but got your equipment. Loki had jumped off the building onto an alien vehicle. You went to the window that looked out to the balcony, where Tony had set up his computers, his holograms. There were three of them. Two for cameras and news, and the one in the middle for your work. A way to piece together the battle quickly and efficiently before making your next move.

You placed your earpiece in your ear. Tony hadn't asked for help but you knew when to butt in. He was stubborn and always tried to do everything alone. Even now after you've helped him twice already. You knew it was dangerous being out in the open. Loki could come back at any moment and kill you. But his sceptre was on your balcony. You grabbed it and took it back inside.

"JARVIS. Show me what Tony can see." The left computer showed Tony's point of view. While the one on the right had street cams to show the rest of the Avengers. Tony had used mark 7? It wasn't ready, was it? You looked out the window and saw the aliens flood in through the portal.

"Tony, what's the status?" Your hands moved across the screen getting as much information as you could.

"Loki opened the portal now chitauri are flooding in." You saw the portal. It was above you. That meant you could close it if they found a way to.

"I have Loki's sceptre. He left it behind trying to get away from Thor." You looked at all the cameras you could. Bruce wasn't there yet.

"That's good kid. Keep it away from him. And stay out of sight you got it"

"Cap, we'll need Bruce for this one. He can take out the big guys. I'm sure it's the only way to make sure you guys don't get overwhelmed. You can handle the little guys when Bruce gets here, tell him."

"How are you sure he'll even turn up." You looked at the camera seeing Bruce on a bike making his way to them.

"Trust me. He's coming." You smirked seeing him drive up in front of them. Looking at Tony’s camera you noticed that you ran out of time.

“I hope you’re angry Bruce, Tony’s bringing the party to you.”

“I wouldn’t call that a party-” Nat commented as Tony turned the corner heading their direction. After Bruce became Hulk, all hands were on deck.

“Okay, Clint we need you on high ground, hit as many as you can, Tony fly around and attack any chitauri you find, and make sure to lure the big guys to bruce, Cap, Nat you guys stay on the ground and try to save any remaining civilians in the streets. Hulk, smash.” Since Bruce didn't have an earpiece Steve told Hulk to smash for me. The strategy was in place, now it was time to act upon it. Loki was the least of our worries now, there was a whole alien army trying to kill anyone and anything in their path.

“Guys use the new camera tech I had Tony made, let me see what you do” Everyone’s earpieces had some nanotech abilities. It created a small camera that came over their cheek to just under their eye so you were able to see everyone's point of view instead of using the street cams. You placed all of their cameras on the side screens but saw Loki on Clint’s. He shot an arrow towards him and he caught it without even looking. But luckily it was one of his bomb arrows, but unlucky for you he fell back onto the top balcony, he was above you now.

“Loki’s in the penthouse again we need-” You stopped after seeing Hulk fly above me to where Loki was. You used the penthouse cameras to see what was going on but by the time you got it up, Hulk manhandled Loki and smashed him into the ground multiple times.

“We need Loki’s sceptre to close the portal!” Nat was up there, you had the sceptre. You had to take it up to her, but that also meant you had to go near Loki.

“I have it, I’ll bring it up to you, is the professor alright?” You saw him breathing heavily on her camera, no longer under the God's control. You left your station grabbing the sceptre and heading to the balcony and climbing up towards the portal. Handing the sceptre to Natasha you looked inside seeing Loki paralyzed from Hulks attacks.

“Cap we can close the portal”

“Do it” Cap instructed.

“Wait-” Cap interrupted Tony knowing we didn't have much time.

“But we have so many more coming in”

“Well I have another coming in and it’s joining us in two minutes”

“Tony- that’s a one-way trip, are you sure?” Concern filled your voice.

“I’ve done worse.” He knew he could die from this. He flew to the Nuke holding it on his back and guiding it to the portal, he almost hit the tower before disappearing into the blue vortex in the sky.

“Guys I can’t hold this for long.” Nat’s voice trembled from the strain in her body from holding the sceptre into the portal device.

“Hold on just a little longer.” Cap's voice was gentle, almost hopeful. But we knew we had to close it.

“Nat-”.

“Close it.” That wasn't a question that was a command. Nat placed the sceptre in the middle and the portal began to close. Looked up at the sky you were hoping that Tony made it. The portal closed and everyone saw him falling.

“He made it through!” You couldn't hide the joy and excitement in your voice. But that soon died down when you realised he was unconscious.

“JARVIS! How stable is Tony?”

“Scanning vital signs-” Thor’s voice boomed through my earpiece silencing JARVIS. That damn voice override.

“He’s not slowing down” Thor got ready to fly up to him but Hulk caught him first making his way down so he could place Tony down safely.

“Cap! How is he?” It was silent before Hulk yelled and I heard Tony’s voice.

“What happened? No one kissed me did they?” I giggled at his remark. He almost died yet his humour didn't. Everyone came up to the penthouse to confront Loki. You stayed behind them, watching Loki from afar. He got up seeing them -The Avengers- in front of him as he surrendered. You looked at his form, seeing a mixed aura- which was very rare. You’ve only seen this once before. And that was on Thor, you expected it was because he was also Asgardian but Thor had mentioned that he was adopted, so it wasn’t that. But this aura. There was hidden darkness mixed in with his normal aura- a darkness that wasn’t his own. You studied his figure, trying to understand how his aura was mixed as it was. Then Loki made eye contact. He looked confused, which was expected since he didn’t see you during the battle. But he was trying to read you, trying to find out why you were even there. As you walked closer they apprehended him.

“Thor- will you take him back to Asgard?” You questioned avoiding Loki’s glare.

“Yes- My father will decide what to do with him. Thank you for all of your help during the battle.”

“Anytime-”

“Help? She wasn’t even there!” Loki’s glare didn’t leave your form.

“I’m the help they get from behind the scenes Loki” His name left your mouth in a soft tone. His aura made you believe that he was not responsible for his actions. He was about to speak again before Thor shut him up with a mouthguard. Loki looked at him in disgust.

“Stay silent brother- do not make things worse”

“Thor. Don’t be too harsh with him.” Loki’s eyes returned to you, confusion imminent. Why would a Midgardian vouch for a monster like him?

“The evil surrounding him- it’s not his own. These were not his actions. It's as if- he was forced to do this. You know of my ability Thor if you'd just let me read him”

“That is not an option, little one. He’s dangerous-”

“He’s not- I can see it. He’s kind, intelligent, chaotic, but not evil. His heritage is not the same as yours either. But please don't be too harsh. He’s had enough pain to last a lifetime” Your eyes returned to Loki’s hope-filled eyes, mixed with guilt and understanding. You got it right. He was forced to do this. Were you his hope of redemption? Or his hope of trusting again after so many people had wronged him? You didn’t know. But you knew that you had to find out.

[mimicutie]

Pit is Autistic - A “Brief” Analysis

Kid Icarus: Uprising is my favorite game of all time, and one thing I love about it is the characterization of Pit. Specifically, I see him as autistic. Of course, this is just a headcanon of mine, but I wanted to write out a little discussion explaining why I see him as such as well as show some of the autistic traits he demonstrates in Uprising (and the occasional reference to the Guidance conversations from Smash).

(fair warning, this is not very brief)

Difficulty Understanding Words and Jokes

It’s made abundantly clear that Pit isn’t the best at picking up sarcasm or jokes. At times, he struggles with understanding words, phrases, and context. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 11.

Pit: Good! There are survivors! Palutena: They’re a stubborn bunch hanging on like that. [...] Pit: Uh… stubborn? Palutena: Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.

Here, Pit doesn’t understand what Palutena means by “stubborn.” It’s pretty common for autistic people to struggle understanding parts of speech, such as words being used in different contexts than what they’re used to.

Medusa: Hmm… Now this is a little… bizarre. Pit: I know right? The mouth on that guy! I’d never talk like that! Medusa: That’s not what I meant. Palutena: Sorry. He can be a little… thick.

Once again, Pit is misinterpreting the situation. He doesn’t understand what Medusa is alluding to, thinking that she is talking about Dark Pit’s brash behavior. Palutena’s last comment hints that it’s very common for Pit to misunderstand people like this.

Pit: I’m Pit, servant of the goddess Palutena. I’m here to defeat Dark Lord Gaol. Magnus: So you’re here for a slice of the pie too? Pit: Huh? Pie? Where?

Chapter 2 has several examples of Pit not picking up on obvious jokes or idioms, and here’s one. Pit takes the idiom literally, not understanding what Magnus really means at first.

Viridi: Pit certainly is devoted to you, Palutena. Hades: Only because she squeezes his head wreath when he doesn’t follow orders. Palutena: You mean like… THIS?! Pit: No no no no no! You’ll squeeze my brains out! … (sigh) Why do I always fall for that?

In this example from Chapter 15, Palutena is clearly messing with Pit, but as he stated, he always falls for her jokes. Even though it’s clear she is just teasing, Pit can’t pick up on the fact that she isn’t being serious. He consistently struggles with understanding tone.

Pit: This is so annoying. Lady Palutena, help me out here! Palutena: Deploying the Palutena Super Sensor… Pit: I didn’t know you had a super sensor! Palutena: Hee hee. I don’t. You know I like to make stuff up. Pit: I can’t believe you’re messing with me at a time like this!

This dialogue from Chapter 13 is just another example of Palutena clearly joking while Pit does not pick up on it. Even though Palutena has done this time and time again, Pit still struggles to tell when someone, even a person he is incredibly close to like Palutena, is just messing with him. These are just a few examples. Pit commonly struggles with understanding language and tone throughout the game.

Using Words Differently

We can see that Pit has his own unique vocabulary with his own creative phrases like, “Calamaried!” “Re-defeated!” “Pulverazed!” and so on. Pit also makes LOTS of noises throughout the game, all of his “woohoo”s and “woah”s and whatnot. It’s just how he communicates, even if it's a bit particular or different.

Expressiveness

Pit is excitable. Like, really excitable. Sure, he’s a fun video game protagonist, but he’s always very happy-go-lucky and upbeat in a way that reads to me as autistic. Just look at how he jumps in excitement!

And when he gets the Three Sacred Treasure?! Gifs can’t really do the excitement in this scene justice. (link in case tumblr embed isn’t working)

Additionally, while Uprising doesn’t have a lot of cutscenes with Pit just standing around talking, in the ones where he does he is usually very expressive, using his hands to talk and whatnot. Added with his excitability, I feel that this shows us that Pit is so expressive and emotional because he’s autistic!

Extra Help

Pit needs more help with understanding things in comparison to others. Palutena often goes out of her way to guide Pit, whether it be giving him directions or explaining how to defeat an enemy. While Palutena’s advice does work as a guide for the player, it’s clear that Pit needs the help more than someone else his situation might. The clearest proof we have of this comes from Chapter 22.

Palutena: Watch out for that heart-shaped crystal barrier! You see, it’s— Dark Pit: Reflecting my shots back at me, right? Palutena: Well… yes. Dark Pit: I got it, so stop telling me what to do! 

Palutena is expecting Dark Pit to be like Pit, where she needs to explain to him what’s going on and offer her guidance. However, Dark Pit was able to figure out a strategy to defeat Pandora all on his own. Palutena is very aware that Pit needs a bit more help and prepares accordingly for him.

Accidental Rudeness

Many times throughout Uprising, Pit is shown speaking “rudely” towards gods or characters who have authority over him.

Pit: Oh, great! You’re the guy I’m looking for. Listen, I have a favor to ask you. Would you mind if I borrow your chariot for just a little while? Chariot Master: Your foolishness is matched only by your rudeness. How dare you charge in here, flinging unreasonable requests at me? [...] Viridi: You can’t really blame him for being upset. That was kind of rude.

Here, Pit is talking to the Chariot Master very casually, treating him like a friend despite the fact he is breaking into the Chariot Master’s tower and asking him for a precious artifact. Pit doesn’t see it as rude but Viridi and the Chariot Master clearly do. He is breaking an unwritten social norm by talking so casually to someone of high authority. Autistic people often misinterpret social situations or don’t act appropriately, sometimes resulting in “rude” behavior. There are several examples of this throughout the game, such as in Chapter 24…

Pit: You know, the Three Sacred Treasures weren’t exactly durable. Can you please make sure that this new weapon won’t just fall apart? Dyntos: Palutena, you’d be wise to put a muzzle on your chicken.  Palutena: I apologize for him. Again. Pit: I… I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be rude.

To Pit, he is just stating a fact. However, it comes off to Dyntos as Pit being rude or even insulting his work. This is something that autistic people often do; they are blunt or honest about something, which is again mistaken as being rude.

Pit is also seen being more blunt when under emotional stress, such as in Chapter 20.

Pit: I trusted you because I knew you were on the side of justice, and… and light! But something is blocking that light now. This isn’t the real you. Viridi: Someone cue the strings… Pit: Would you mind holding the commentary for two seconds, Viridi? Phosphora: There are goddesses you’re talking to here, Pit. Watch your tone. Pit: Butt out, Phosphora! The goddess of light has turned dark. Skyworld is destroyed! Everything is wrong, and it’s up to me to make things right! Palutena: Oh, Pit. You’re just as naive as ever. Pit: I’m not naive!

Phew. This scene is pretty noteworthy to me because throughout the game, Pit is never really that angry or upset. He does show hostility, but he never really snaps at anyone, much less gods, like this. But when his home is destroyed and Lady Palutena is not herself, his emotions get the better of him. He doesn’t even seem to care that he is being “rude” to Viridi. I definitely see this moment as Pit having an outburst because of the stressful situation he is under. 

Scripts / Scripting

The most obvious example of Pit using a script is with his “rally cries” that he prepares before fighting enemies. Look at the idol description for this AR Card.

He practices his rally cries a lot in order to be prepared for battles with bosses. Pit even mentions practicing his rally cries in a later chapter.

Pit: Cells of Hades, hear my words! And, um… see my actions! Uh… something, something… I’m going to rain death on you! I can’t remember all the words, but that’s the general gist. Hades: My innards have so longed to hear your battle cry. How could you forget the words? Pit: I didn’t have time to rehearse. I’ve been busy fighting evil, okay?!

While some may see the rally cries as meaningless fun, I think it could be seen as Pit having a script that he likes to fall back to when facing enemies. 

His many references and quotes to video games could be seen as scripting, too. There are lots of instances in Uprising, and especially in Palutena’s Guidance, where Pit quotes famous video game phrases or imitates sounds. Which leads me to…

Special Interest

Pit’s special interest is video games. While Pit’s very vast knowledge of video games could just be because of Uprising’s fourth-wall breaking style of humor, I think it could also be seen as Pit having an intense interest in games. He references various video games such as Metroid, Nintendogs, and Super Smash Bros. in-game. He seems to enjoy bringing up video games or referencing video game mechanics whenever he can, which is very similar to how autistic people enjoy bringing up their special interests in conversations whenever possible. Additionally, while the Palutena’s Guidance conversations aren’t 100% accurate to canon, Pit constantly references and alludes to various video games in them, such as quoting Reyn in Shulk’s conversation or Peppy and General Pepper in Fox’s (which ties back to him scripting). It’s clear that he loves video games and talking about video games!

Pit: Those Aurum troops are doing their best Game and Watch impression! Viridi: Check out the gaming IQ on this guy! You’re a regular video game historian!

See, even Viridi is impressed with his video game knowledge! :D

Sensory Issues

Throughout the game, Pit seems to have an obsession with hot springs. It is never outright explained why he loves them so much, but I’m led to believe it is because of sensory reasons. Many autistic people use extreme temperatures to help soothe or calm themselves, such as cold showers or hot baths. It can often help with sensory overload. Hot springs, similarly to hot baths, may be a way to help soothe Pit and keep his sensory issues to a minimum. 

Pit’s habits with his tunic seem to hint towards sensory issues, too. He doesn’t like to be without his robes, stating that he keeps them on even when he’s in the hot spring. When his clothes seemingly get messed up in Chapter 21, he gets upset, exclaiming that it’s his only tunic. Wearing the same clothes or same types of clothes/fabric is pretty typical for autistic people, and Pit wearing the same tunic everyday is similar to that.

Additionally, Pit’s habits with food could be because of sensory differences. He very well could be hyposensitive to food and tastes, which is why he eats a lot and doesn’t seem to care about what he eats (as long as it isn’t vegetables, according to the Revolting Dinner short ;D ) . 

Small Social Circle

Pit doesn’t have a whole lot of people he can rely on. Before Uprising, the only person he seems to have any affinity for is Palutena. Other than that, he doesn’t seem to talk to anyone else. We don’t have a clear picture on what his relationship with the Centurions is like, but based off of the Revolting Dinner short and Chapter 17, he only really talks to them when he’s working as the Captain of the Army and not as a friend.

While yes, Pit is the only angel left in Skyworld, I still think it’s important to bring up that Pit only really has Palutena to rely on. By the end of Uprising, he has Viridi and Dark Pit as well, but his only clear and completely positive relationship is his mother-son bond with Palutena. I see this as Pit struggling to really befriend others. He’s had over two decades between the original game and Uprising to befriend the Centurions, but again, he only really has Palutena. It’s pretty typical for autistic people to have very small social circles, consisting of just one or two friends. Palutena seems to fit the role of mother and best friend for Pit, and she even remarks that he should make more friends in Chapter 4. 

Working Alone

This is a small one, but still something that I think is worth pointing out. Pit seems very adamant on accomplishing his missions on his own, telling Dark Pit on two separate occasions (Chapter 9 and Chapter 21) that he can handle the situation by himself. Similarly, it’s common for autistic people to prefer working by themselves rather than with others. Paired with the previous point about having a small social circle, this just reads to me as Pit not feeling too comfortable in situations with others.

Conclusion

There’s a few other points that I feel I could bring up but overall I think these are my main points summed up (and yes, I said summed up. this used to be over 2500 words) ! Thanks so much for reading! If you have any other traits that you think Pit has that I didn’t mention, feel free to share them, I’d be more than happy to hear! ^_^

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 8

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down. 

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild)

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Smut, blood, violence, gunfight, choking, rough, angry, unprotected sex, foul language, bodily fluids.  

A/N: Okaaaay, it’s time to fuck shit up. The moment you’ve been waiting for. I lost sleep over this chapter, writing action sequences is HARD!!! So please leave feedback! Thanks, @agniavateira​ for editing my work and being my muse.💖

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Maw of the beast

Following the coordinates given to him by Knight, August steps through the muddy ground in the darkening evening sky. He listens to the squelching sound as his shoes sink into the moist mud, making sure the steps are his and his alone. His hand pushes a curled-up cooper fence that blocks the way and ignores the warning sign as he continues forward, following a man-made path of wooden planks.

A monstrous abandoned building towers in front of him, looking like something out of an Italian horror film. Scaffoldings and metal bars surround the dark concrete brick of what appears to be a spire or a gothic opera house of some sort, construction not nearly halfway finished.  

August narrows his eyes with deep suspicion, making careful hesitant steps while looking around him. His hand reaches for the gun holster beneath the long beige jacket, ticking the clasp off in preparation of whatever awaits him tonight. 

The entrance is guarded by two large gargoyles, leering at him from above a large archway. He stares back at the sculptures, focusing on their empty eyes before stepping through the open gate.

A great hallway welcomes him, accompanied by large pillars that guide the way inside. They’re engraved by winged creatures-angels or demons, he cannot tell. The corridor is showered by red construction lights chained to the floor, laid next to each tall column. 

Bright enough to determine shadow from light, yet not strong enough to conclude if the deconstructed hall is a church, an opera house, or the gateway to hell itself. 

Only one thing is certain: it’s most probably a trap. 

August’s own steps echo in the acoustics of the tall ceiling. Marble shines on the floor through the wooden debris, and large sheets of nylons huddled on the floor. His soiled shoes step between them carefully, trying to listen to whomever walks with him among the darkness. 

There in the umbra, a stalking predator moves behind the pillars. August pauses, his right hand resting on the grip of his gun while his ears capture the tapping sounds of small steps. An odd sensation spreads through each of his nerves, it almost feels like deja vu yet not as quiet.  His heartbeat accelerates, her name rolling on the tip of his tongue even before the outline of her petite figure becomes clear. 

‘How the fuck…?’

He might as well have summoned her into appearing by his endless thoughts of her. He can almost see her face as she moves with him with a succubus grin and shining eyes. She can tell he sees her, yet she does not bother hiding. 

This is a game.

Aggravated, August sighs and moves to seclude himself behind one of the pillars. His gestures are nearly graceful, displaying a lack of panic even though the blood in his veins begins to boil. This will be the second time she is messing up his plans.

The petite woman moves through the columns like a playful ghost; she is silent yet in his mind, he swears he can hear her demonic giggles. August begins to slowly mimic her behaviour, stalking behind the opposing pillars like a large feline creature, watching her face and learning her movement methodically. 

There is a loud drum in her heart, her muscles slightly quivering beneath the skin from the thrill of finally seeing him. The chase was prolonged, and even now where they’re finally sharing the same air, there is an unforgiving distance between them.

‘I will kill him with my own hands if I have to.’

Perhaps that’s the intimacy he deserves.

“You really value your life so little, princess?” August's deep voice finally graces her ears, and the baritone makes her heart flutter. Not out of fear, but the rush of having him close after days of chasing him with sick intent. 

“On the contrary, Mr. Walker,” she replies with a smile on her soft-spoken voice, her eyes alternating between his figure and the path which is nearing its end. Arriving at the last wide column, she pauses, half-hidden behind the angels and demons that embellish the pale stone. August does the same, staring directly into her eyes from the other side. 

No festive facade this time, just plain jeans and a black t-shirt. She grips her gun low to the side of her hip, her finger circling the trigger while her eyes stalk down his suited form, trying to learn as many details as possible. This time there will be no surprises, no hidden knives, or sins of vanity and arrogance which made her fail in the past.

“I told you, I will keep coming for you.” 

“And I promised you, I won’t be merciful.”

A gun would be quicker, yet he would very much love to kill her using his bare hands. For a week the ghost of her face haunted him and now as her vision appears in the flesh all he fancies is to mount her small body and have his hands around her throat, squeezing hard until the breaking sound of her hyoid bone will fill his ears.

‘I wonder how many people know that it happens while choking someone to death.’

“I finally read your manifesto.” 

The many images of him pinning her to the floor fade by the softness of her voice. His gaze pierces through hers. A shimmering glint sparkles in her eyes which are now painted twilight red by the lighting of the room. 

“Do not mock me,” he warns while sliding his gun out from its holster. The sound of hard metal scratching against boiled leather makes her shiver with anticipation. 

“I’m not. It’s beautiful, I mean it,” she replies with sincerity. Her eyes focus on August’s long index finger as it ticks the safety off. “The suffering I bring you is the bridge to ultimate peace.”

August scoffs as she recites his own words to him, mesmerized by how her voice speaks his own written vows. 

“Are you trying to get me hard, princess? Because I’m halfway there.”

She offers him a slight chuckle, her mind tempting her with visions of his naked form, yet she brushes them away, her smile quickly fading. “Too bad, you have to die.”

“Too bad,” he answers back, his eyes drinking her pleasing sight one last time before a final farewell. He takes a hasty mental photograph of the facility, planning his strategy carefully, memorizing every exit route and possible guarding point.   

“Well then, do we do this like in the American western films?” she taunts with a grin on her voice. “We count to four and draw? ”

He chuckles and shakes his head with amusement. 

“However you wish to die, babycakes.” 

“Alright then, on four,” she answers and turns to lean against the pillar with her back while cocking her gun, now switching to hold it between her hands while they are folded up, the barrel pointing to the ceiling. 

“One…”

Stripping his jacket off quickly and throwing it on the ground, August prepares himself for the assault. With his back shoved against the thick column, he holds the gun close to his chest and glances at her from the corner of his eye. One eyebrow crooks up as determination paints his chiselled face.

“Two…”

The sounds of shots being fired shudder through the hall and ring painfully in their ears. Too loud to be able to hear the expensive stone blasting and falling apart at the floor. There is a high-pitched hum buzzing in Ingvild's ear as she crouches down to defend herself. Her hearing becomes somewhat impaired from the loud blast, making it near impossible to hear his movement. 

He counts two shots from her weapon and sneaks on his knees to switch positions. Now hiding behind the doorless frame, which leads to another room. The lighting of the facility makes it difficult to see movement, and the gunshots have temporarily damaged their ears. He wants to praise her for selecting such a perfect location for a showdown, but he knows she won’t hear a damn thing if he will. 

Breathing slowly, Ingvild sticks her head out carefully, just enough to seek his location. A whiff of violent wind grazes her cheek as a shot is fired too close to her face. She crawls back to her hiding position, glancing at the bullet that is pierced through the wall. Quickly, she sneaks out from her hiding place and sprints as fast as possible to stand at the same row of columns that August previously occupied.

He spots her movement and empties his gun four times, trying to hit her before she makes it to a barricade.

“Fuck!” he yells, missing her on all four shots. Her slender limbs and small figure make her far too agile for long-range combat, and he already spent 5 bullets. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he quietly slides down the wall and disappears into the back room. His eyes quickly run through the next corridor, finding nothing but construction equipment, the scaffolding that holds the wall, and a half-exposed wooden floor that seems unstable as it creaks beneath his shoes. 

There is a disturbing silence coming from August’s frontier. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she attempts to sense his presence, trying to remember Liam’s training. Yet her heart pounds too fast in her chest making her forget everything she ever knew. She had endless successful terminations since she was 14, yet fighting August is like fighting Lucifer himself.

For the first time in her life, she feels doubt. 

Grabbing a rock that fell from one of the pillars, she throws it into the room, hoping the movement will fool him and evoke him to shoot yet there is no reaction from him, which makes her conclude he escaped to another room. 

Taking a deep breath and trying to keep silent, she presses against the wall, smoothly advancing toward what seems like a crooked door frame. Her hands reach inside first, her head turning back for a swift second to make sure he is not lurking behind in her dead-zone.  

She makes her way into an unfinished hallway of some sort, her eyes seeking for August in desperation, trying to determine movement, her feet nearly floating in the air as she hopes to remain unseen. The stern silence is needling and pricking her skin. 

The hunter is caught by her own trap.

Cold sweat covers her forehead, and a sharp intake of air is forced by her lungs as she feels his presence behind her. She attempts to turn and face him, but something hard hits her on the back of her head. Her knees lose the battle to the physical trauma, her gun falling from her shocked fingers as pain blooms through her head like an electric shock. 

Feeling triumphant for a split second, August seizes her by the neck with incredible force, eliciting a distressed scream from her lips. 

“Shush now, beautiful angel.” he coos at her and points the gun beneath her jaw. “You already died before, you know what awaits you.”

‘Nothing.’

August watches as she stares at him, helpless. Her big eyes reflect his face in cherry hues. She is drenched with fear, even her sweat is soaked with it. Darn. Doesn't it smell amazing, combined with her natural body odour. 

It’s an aphrodisiac, making him semi-hard, drawing him to smell it.

Ingvild scowls with shock as he nuzzles her neck, his moustache scratching at her skin. A terrifying chill flutters through her spine, adding to the harrowing sensation of death’s welcoming invitation. 

She is not accepting it yet, though. 

Her hands grab onto his and struggle to hold the gun away from her face. She claws her nails onto his fingers, leaving bloody trails across his fists.

The gun fires five more times, emptied into the ceiling until it runs dry, shooting desolated clicks again and again until August grunts with wrath. Still holding her neck, he shoves her toward the wall and slams himself against her back. The wooden floor creaks beneath them, its foundations starting to become unstable beneath their chaotic dance. 

“Why did you have to make this so fucking complicated?!” he barks at her, his hand lacing itself with her hair, pulling her head back against his chest. She can hear the stark sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath and watches as her eyes reflect on the sharp silver. 

“Why do you have to be such a fucking cunt?!”

August rasps at her, attempting to anchor the knife against her throat. Bracing a leg against the wall, she counters herself and pushes both of them back, also managing to knock the knife out of his hand and set herself free of his grasp.  

August’s shirt is stained with circles of sweat as she turns to face him; he is trying to catch his breath while glaring at her with blazing eyes. His infuriated gaze begins to travel lower, falling to the corner next to her and fixating on the floor. Bemused, she follows the direction in which his eyes are staring, finding her lost handgun resting on a pile of nylons. 

Their eyes meet together in a piercing glare, trying to read each other’s thoughts and calculate their next move. There is nothing between them but their loud breaths and the throbbing in their ears as their hearts pound heavily. 

Arrogant as ever, August is the first to make his move, lunging forward with ferocious speed. Infuriated, she moves to block him, her knee lifting high enough to kick his chest. Coughing violently he stumbles on his feet, his ankle thudding back through the rotten wooden flooring, causing the planks to fall through the basement level.

Ingvild stares horrified as the floor crumbles as if Hellmouth has opened in the ground. She attempts to step back, watching August fling his hands in the air as he loses his balance. His hand grasps the collar of her shirt, pulling both of them through the pit in the ground.

~*~

The air jolts from his lungs at once as his back hits the ground with incredible force and a twinge in his spine rips through his body, letting him know he is still alive. The sound of his own husky grunt is a plea in the darkness as his body remains stiff and immobilized. 

A sharp chill prickles his skin, moments of distilled fear are cold on his sweat. His mind begs to move yet his muscles ignore it.

Somewhere in the eclipse of the room, he hears Ingvild’s suffering grunts. Small movements catch his attention from the corner of his eyes. Attempting to find her, he slightly sticks his head up, watching her crawl on the floor with immense effort. Her black jeans are torn at the knees, blood and dust cake her chafed flesh. She coughs, holding one hand over her chest while the other supports her weight on the basement floor.

Scratches and blood stain her once porcelain face, her hair is a mess while her eyes are glossy from both the struggle to breathe and the burning hatred that boils within her. Dragging her limbs, she breathes so loudly every exhale comes out as a shrieking mutter. 

“You look so beautiful.” August mocks and chuckles in a rusty voice, his laughter melting into a pitiful cough. He manages to regain some of his motoric abilities, turning on one side, yet his body betrays him, every muscle screams with exhaustion as he attempts to get up. 

While watching August trying to get back on his knees, the bile rises in her throat. A spike of adrenaline shoots through her heart, and like a screeching cat, she lunges at him. Her hands push him back down on the dusty ground, securing his neck. She thrusts his head down and tightens her grip, strangling him while screaming with despair.  

She never hated anyone in her life as much as she hated him right now. 

August stares at her maddened face as she lies on top of him. Tiny wrinkles from between her brows as savage cries tear from her mouth. Her thumbs suppress his intake of air and force at his jugular. All the while, tears seam at her beautiful grey eyes, he can see his own reflection in the translucent glass. His lips are parted open, face turning purple. It almost feels like falling asleep. 

As his mind nearly drifts away, he thinks of Lacey. 

‘Was I the last thing on her mind?’

Aching as they are, his hands find their strength, reaching around Ingvild’s delicate throat. She hisses in disdain, trying to lift her upper body away from his reach yet he pulls her flat against him with all that remains in him.

Tiny spasms shock through her entire body as his lips crush against hers.

Her whimpers are divine, so gentle and delicate. He hums as if he is eating the most decadent desserts and devours every angelic sound her body produces. His hands are large and stark, restraining her head. Coarse fingers latch around her jaw, tethering her every movement while he dominates her mouth.

The scent of his own blood fills his nostrils as her claws paint his jawline threads of crimson, a pathetic attempt to resist him. Gory trails sear his skin, yet he is distracted by sugary-sweet lips. Capturing her, he suckles hungrily, flirting between the south and north of her maw while his thick moustache leaves the skin above her upper lip red and irritated. 

The devil’s kiss leaves her in daze, the touch of his lips made her heart beat to an irrational speed, fuming in her ears and between her thighs. 

It’s as if her nightmare came to being in order to haunt her, or perhaps the pit they fell through is hell itself. 

Fruitlessly she tries to pull away. Yet his grip is iron, her small breasts mash against his chest as he holds her and entangles their legs together. Somewhere amidst her impossible attempt to escape a dangerous throb awakens between her thighs.

‘No, I don’t want this.’

August’s sharp teeth nip at her succulent flesh, his tongue stubbornly fights to exhaust her defiance. Yet it’s not his mouth that tricks her into submission but a rogue gasp that rudely forces her mouth open as she feels him bumping his hips and grinding his rock-hard erection against her torso.

August smirks in vanity and exploits her disarray. Penetrating the hot velvet cavern of her mouth and groaning at the sweet cinnamon of her tongue. He licks and swallows every tender whimper while molten bliss dances through his tendons. 

Fear of death is replaced by a whole new strain of terror, making her squirm as August conquers her mouth. Ingvild’s mind whispers dark words, keenly reminding her that August Walker will not settle for just a kiss. The thought of his Adonis-like naked body pressed against hers sets a wild shiver in her arms. Horrified, she releases his neck and begins hitting his chest, exploiting the last drops of strength that still stream in her muscles. Her fist ploughs at him, seeking for that weakness until finally, his punishing mouth tears away from hers with guttural growl. 

Ingvild inhales sharply. Rage is hot and loud on her breath as she glances down on the man who violated her mouth. His unforgiving hands slide from her nape to her shoulders, caging her forcefully while his tongue flicks to clean himself from her taste provokingly.

A malicious smirks sparks his face as he watches her grey eyes turn into crimson. The sight of her mouth engorged and glistening from his abuse is enough to make his cock twitch with sheer anticipation. He wonders how hot and wet she is for him down below, how wonderful she will sound taking the entire length of his cock.

“I bet your cunt tastes even better.”

The blood seethes in her. Any coherent thought is lost, there is nothing but hatred as she bestows him a sharp smack across the face, causing him to turn his head aside from the force of her slap.

Iron caresses his tongue as he tips it at the small gash that formed in his lower lip.

‘Just like Lacey.’ 

He growls at her dangerously, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening. He readies himself to hit her back but is stopped by delicate lips that smear blood across each corner of their mouths. 

Like an animal licking her prey, she drinks him. 

For a moment she feels weightless, floating feather-like, anchored by nothing but the gravity of his strong body beneath her. But the yearning to brutalize him grounds her back to reality. She bites and sucks, her fangs creasing small cuts at his chin and the apex of his lips before moving to torment his mouth which kisses back at her in a wet synergy. 

‘I knew it’d be fun to break her.’

August's hands travel south her spine, capturing her taut ass and squeezing it tightly. The heartless succubus tries greatly to be aggressive, yet he finds her kisses delicate as butterfly wings flapping on his flesh. The warm hums of her voice tickles his throat and her taste, a fear and lust mixed elixir. 

He could swear he has never been this hard in his entire life. 

Unrelenting desire flows through him, having had enough with letting her explore. He takes the reins and flips her down into submission. His tongue writhes into her mouth, snake-like and slippery while his hands ravage her body. He kneads and gropes, making sure to be as crude and ruthless. He hopes to hurt her every possible way. 

She wriggles beneath him, legs locked, entwined between his, her boots kicking the ground helplessly. Sharp talons tug at her shirt and her bra at once, huddling it up beneath her chin. Just enough to expose her perky breasts to feast upon. August breaks away from her lips, staring at her naked chest while his teeth chew at the gash in his bottom lip.

A rosy blush spreads down her naked torso, the cries that leave her mouth speak of just as much pain as they tell of pleasure. August’s fingers thread between her peaked nipples before reaching to kiss and nip at her breasts. Ingvild shakes beneath him, exclaiming small hisses as his teeth leave purple marks across her body. 

“Remember how I promised I’d fuck you, princess?” He asks darkly, a twisted fascination marking his face as his finger traces the stitches on the wound he gave her. 

“I wish you’d die.” she bites back with loathing to which he replies with a cold smirk.

“You can’t even get that right, little girl.”

Snarling like a possessed thing, she finds herself clawing at him. Berserk, mind twisted, sick with desperation, her hands seek through the shadows, nails ripping and yanking at fabric and skin, shredding at whatever she can find until his battered body is exposed to her.

August huffs at her, his nostrils flaring. The small vixen beneath him awakens his every primal instinct; he wants to gnaw at her bones, to reduce her to nothing as he fucks her through her tears. 

The violent scuffle to remove her jeans takes seconds. Sturdy fingers tug at both her undergarments and her trousers, pulling them down the bones of her hips in sheer brutality while she snakes her hips and kicks her feet. Exposed to the chill of the room and to August’s darkest needs. 

Alarm spikes in her chest, beating with anxiety as his hand runs smoothly up and down her creamy limbs. Her legs shut together instinctively yet the beast shoves his knees between her thighs, starved to enter the warmth of her body. He fumbles with his belt, and the noise of the buckle clicking makes her jostle with fright. She attempts to catch that whimper before it leaves her mouth yet fails. August sneers, pulling out his large erect cock and letting the base grind against the wetness of her slit.

One hand cradles her skull, his thumb pressing against her lips, holding her head in place. The horror feeds him, stupendous panic, making her shiver beneath his large body. 

The frozen girl who never feared death is afraid of him.

Feasting on her sight, he reaches his fingers to his mouth, letting his slippery tongue flake the tips. His thick saliva coats them before he sends his hand down to lubricate her inviting slit.

Ingvild’s breath suspends as scenes of her nightmare come to life. August hovers above her like a great incubus, and she muses if this is all but a dream, yet the brush of his wet fingers between her petals proves to be the only thing that feels real in her existence. There is a pulsating void in her chest and between her thighs, aching at his touch.

“Fuck.” he calls out ecstatic as the tip of his fingers finds her sleek and hot. Unable to wait anymore, he immediately grips at his cock and positions himself in her narrow slit. ”You’re soaked, you want this.”

Frozen in time, her breath takes away as the hard velvet of his manhood breaches her entrance, desecrating her with sin. His invasion into her body is brutal, ripping through her fresh core, while chanting moans of the most divine pleasure.

Every sensation becomes vivid inside her as he is buried in her depth, the astonishing, overwhelmingly tight grip around him, the nails that bite into his biceps, the small body that shudders unstoppably. 

It almost feels as if he just broke something inside her.

“Oh…”

Realization seeps into his mind as she remains still but for the twitch in her muscles. Frowning bemused, he tilts his head down, noticing the quiver in her lip and the wetness beneath her glassy eyes. Ingvild watches silently, white with shame as August reaches his fingers to the space where they’re connected and returns them stained in crimson.

“Huh,” he exclaims, playing with the blood between his fingers before landing his palm next to her head. Sick pride poisons his beautiful blue eyes, his tarred heart singing of great victories. He didn’t think it was possible to be even more aroused, having wanted her for so long, but the fact that he just stole something from her that she will never gain back drives the degenerate feral animal inside him wild.

“Did I just pop your cherry, princess?”

Ingvild answers with silence, ignoring the arrogance that beams on his face and the searing pain inside her. She feels the warmth of her blood and the righteousness of her walls trying to defend her lost honour while his manhood throbs inside her with excitement.  

Ever so slowly, he pulls out, his mouth ghosts over hers, aphrodisia coursing through his veins, fueled by the despaired gasp that leaves her mouth. 

“Aww…” he coos at her yips and cries with false sweetness, his hand snapping at her inner thigh, handling it against his hip to force another punishing thrust. Pain surges through her cervix as he hits too deep. His low groans are languished, guttural melodies of pleasure.

“You feel so good, princess.”

Unwilling to succumb to his cruelty, she growls in anger. As he pulls back for the third time, she pushes hard to meet his thrust, taking his thick cock all the way into her chasm. Still raw, her muscles scream with protest yet she grits her teeth and smiles twistedly, unwilling to let him triumph over her. 

August closes his eyes with delight, an onslaught of curses spilling from his lips at the sensation of her succulent walls engulfing him with woven warmth. He couldn’t be gentle with her even if he wanted to. His entire existence calls to shred her, to see her lips parting to small pathetic sobs of pain and pleasure as he conquers her. 

Pain still spasms in her core as he drives into her in a lewd manner, yet the odd sensation of fullness achieved with the reach of his cock to the pit of her cervix evokes a new pleasant tingle in her essence. Like a gentle chord it vibrates, playing the sweetest music and blooming within. 

Every time he pulls away, she suddenly grows desperate for his return. 

‘More please, more.’

Deep whimpers and laboured groans fill the empty spaces between the shadows, creating a violent harmony as August fucks into her in a wild, primal rhythm, ending every thrust with a slam which makes her arch against him and tear his skin with her nails. 

They can feel themselves pulsating in rage against one another, flesh slapping into flesh, blood and fluids, hot, savage like animals, reduced to nothing but their carnal lust. Their bodies move in unison, lips and tongues collide, teeth nipping at each other. 

“You like that?” August rasps, his voice cracking into groans as he continues to pump in and out mercilessly, feeling her walls growing tighter, milking his cock in demand to drain him from his generous offering. 

A hazed memory of a long time ago brushes through his mind. There’s a familiar sensation to this, surging through his ribcage, a desire to unload all his anger and hatred into someone else, to be baptized by her essence. It makes him fuck her harder, mistaking the thought that he could experience the slightest moments of redemption. 

‘She doesn’t feel like that ungrateful bitch, nothing about her does.’

Ingvild bites her lip tightly, withholding from crying his name. There is a wholeness in her she never felt before. Tears well in her eyes, loving and hating the way his body fits inside her, making every sensation she ever felt in her life become insignificant. All that matters is his lips, heart, and cock as it sinks into her in an unstoppable pace until the colours and tunes dance in her heart, and a burst of white flames explode within her.

For the first time in her life, she comes around something, feeling complete. 

‘She looks beautiful when she comes.’

“I’m going to come inside that virgin pussy of yours.” 

August gasps a threat as he rocks above her, astonished by the sight of ecstasy on her face. His balls clench against the seam of her cunt, and his cocks swell between her clutching muscles. Spiralling out of control his fingers snap at her feeble throat, choking tightly as he’s thrown beyond rapture. Ignoring her desperate fight for air, his orgasm takes him by force. He moans deeply and spills his seed into her virginal womb.

Sobbing gasps leave her mouth as he strangles her. Tears roll from the corners of her eyes, falling down to her dusty hair in the dim light. Too meek to fight him off, she watches as his stare turns black, lost in some trance.

‘What are you doing to the girl, August?’ 

As if waking up from a dream, he snaps back and gazes down on her, surprised by the vulnerability and fright in her grey eyes as his hand holds her down. 

‘End this.’ 

He frowns at himself, nearly frustrated, his hands releasing her slowly, backing away in the air, allowing her to breathe once again. 

‘You fucking idiot.’

August watches her heave, sobbing beneath him silently. Her skin trembles beneath his heavy body. Shock and grief storm in her eyes at her lost innocence. As his knuckle grazes her cheek, she suddenly flinches and looks at him oddly. 

The blue ocean in his glance shows no emotion, yet he croons at her and comforts her with the soft hush of his lips. His coarse thumb dries her tears, wiping them away and stroking her hair to cease her from shaking. 

“Shhh… it’s okay. It’s okay.”

His touch is tender, almost relaxing. But the more she stares at him, the more chaos charges in her chest, making her want to scratch her own eyes in anguish. Pushing him away, she forces him off, guilt-ridden and ashamed. She tugs her shirt back down and fumbles for her pants desperately. A pink mixture trickles down her inner thigh as she pulls her jeans up.

Her blood, his semen.

His cock is coated by her innocence as well, tainted by a thin layer of blood. He chuckles to himself, coldly while sitting up and holding himself from making a humiliating joke about it while she moves around between shadow and twilight. 

Unaware of what to say or do, he pulls his trousers back up and stands on his feet, trying to find his remaining piece of clothing before deciding what to do with her.

The sharp sound of a gun’s barrel being stretched pauses his musings before they even begin to take shape. His glare lifts up slowly to meet hers. There she stands, the untrustworthy whore, her gun gripped between her hands. A distressed look on her tortured bleeding face.  

‘Just like the rest of them.’ 

Her lips tremble as she speaks, her brow rising up as if out of mercy. 

“I have to kill you.” 

A burst of light flashes in the room, making her grey eyes shine so bright they glisten like stars in the darkest skies.

It’s the last thing he sees before his world goes black. 

_____________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise and/or August Walker

[shelby-bach-books]

9/11: History-in-the-Making, a budding writer’s perspective

To the left is the journal I kept in Fall of 2001. Yes, I decorated it myself. I was freshly fifteen and very creative.

To the right is the entry I wrote after the Twin Towers fell in New York. Spoiler alert: my opinions then weren’t groundbreaking, but you can see I was too shaken to remember what the date was. 

At the time, I knew that I wasn’t doing it justice, the same way I knew that I was watching history unfold on my screen. In this entry, I sounded like what I was: a scared teenager, reckoning with the beginning of a big grief. 

I’m telling you this, because if you are a young person, you too may be sitting at the edge of emotions you don’t yet have words for. That’s okay. 

Some days, history-in-the-making is not for writing about. Some days, history-in-the-making is for feeling into. 

I’ll explain what I mean: 

On 9/12/2001, I walked into my algebra classroom, still cracked open from the day before. I threw my backpack on the floor and myself in my desk, and then I overheard one of my classmates in the back row say, “We should just nuke them all.” 

There is no reason why I should remember this—except for the silent event that took place next. 

A tide of grief swept in and cleared out everything else I had been worrying about, and my thoughts crystallized. 

I immediately understood a couple things: 

- My country was going to go to war, because the feelings of a sophomore boy weren’t too much different from the feelings of a politician (even if the latter dressed up their words into strategies). 

- There was no army to fight, so this war would be messy. 

- Those who would be hurt the most would be the regular Afghani people, villagers just trying to live their lives, who had nothing to do with hijacked planes, who were just as afraid of armed zealots as I was. 

Then I realized something else: No wonder the environment is in so much trouble. Humans don’t even value other humans, much less other kinds of life.

This may sound extraordinarily depressing. but buried under these thoughts was a deeper belief:

If a problem is created by humans, it can be solved by humans. 

And with all the optimism of an idealistic fifteen-year-old, I believed that even this was a solvable problem.

The fall of my senior year, I wrote a novel for fun. It was a Romeo-and-Juliet-style fantasy romance between two kids from factions that had been warring for millennia. It was driven by the central question: how does an ancient war get started? What would it take to end it? 

That spring, I also took an elective course from my AP US History teacher called “War and Peach.” I titled one of my essays, “Choosing your battles,” and I reread it yesterday.

Here’s the conclusion of that essay:

“War is…a distraction from the conflict that we only notice during peacetime, the only worthwhile conflict: ourselves. Right and wrong are not external forces; they are internal forces. 

“We fight invisible foes (individualism and unity; selfishness and generosity; evil and good) that churn our insides and boil our own blood without spilling it. We are—in fact—our own battlefields, the only ones we need.”

Since I thought I knew everything at seventeen, my tone in the essay is judgmental, as if the problem only existed outside myself. College would later teach me that I was ignoring my own internal battlefields. (FYI, the teachers on this weren’t my classes or my professors, but the problems I created for myself when I first lived away from home.

But I still believe a version of that conclusion. Slightly revised and expanded to include other forms of conflict, it was become one of the guiding beliefs of the past decade and a half of my life. 

For example, the Ever Afters—the series I started at 23—was born from it.

In those books, the main heroine and main villain are markedly similar, but the heroine has an inner journey she values as much as her exterior battles. The villain, on the other hand, never paid much attention to her interior battlefield, instead just attacking in as many ways as possible as if survival depended on it. 

Writing some novels is obviously not a complete solution to war and/or humans not valuing life. But these books have helped people—young readers have written to tell me so.

So, if you are feeling deeply today, remember you can always do something, even if you aren’t able to solve the events playing out on your screen right now, even if it takes longer than you expect to know what to do. Long-standing problems require long-range problem-solving as much as immediate action.

Notice what bothers you the most in what you’re seeing, and resolve to be part of the change. 

One person trying to help doesn’t always make a dent in the problems of a globe.

But change can come from a globe of individuals each taking on a piece of the puzzle, each helping in their own way, chipping away at a problem together until something better is left in its place. 

{Originally posted it last year on Instagram, but I wanted to post it here too.}

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 13, Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 13: The Desert Palace

Jehanna was known as the Country of White Dunes. Just as that name implied, the capital city was chosen to be built upon a tiny patch of green land in the middle of a giant desert.

The rainy season was very short, and the air was dry almost the entire year round. Skeletons of animals that had collapsed from exhaustion dotted the desert. However, despite being suffocated by such harsh nature, Jehanna was also beautiful.

The country was ruled by Queen Ismaire. Her husband had passed long ago, and after overcoming countless hardships, she’d come to be a fine ruler for the country. The palace towered majestically over the white desert, and was a symbol of how the queen lived her life.

Eirika’s army traveled along the narrow main road built throughout the desert and towards the capital city. The palace looked so very far away.

What was going on inside that beautiful palace now? Just thinking about it lowered their spirits. Eirika was lost in thought as she swayed gently atop her horse, but noticed a small flower that had bloomed on the side of the road, and stopped.

When she jumped off her horse and went to pick the flower, she smelled a refreshing aroma. 

Tana saw what she was doing, and peered over at her. “It’s so cute! Wow, flowers can even bloom in a dry climate like this!”

“This is a medicinal plant. I forgot its name, but… it’s supposed to be very effective at relieving the pain of wounds. It only grows in dry climates, so it is a valuable plant.”

“Wow… you really know a lot about it! I'm surprised that you know something like that!"

Eirika smiled and stared down at the beautiful flower in her hand.

The person who had taught her all about it was Lyon. He had his very own medicinal plant garden in a corner of Grado Castle’s garden, where he grew a wide variety of plants. He’d even worked very hard to recreate a desert environment and tried to raise plants that only grew in that climate.

Ephraim showed no interest in medicinal plants, and did not come near them, but Eirika often visited the garden with Lyon. Even Lyon, who’d been shy at first, opened up and answered all of Eirika’s various questions on the subject, telling her all the plants’ names, effects, and how to care for them.

“Those without money cannot buy expensive medicine, right? But there are plants everywhere that can become effective medicines. I’m studying medicinal plants, and want to teach the people about them, because it should make life much easier for those suffering from illnesses…”

Eirika was impressed by all the things Lyon passionately shared with her. She still had much to learn about the world at the time, and hadn’t thought yet about the lives of the people.

“You’re so admirable, Lyon! You think as hard as you can to find a way to make everyone happy, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m not admirable at all… This is the only sort of thing I can do… I’m terrible at sword fighting. I lose even to you.”

When Lyon said that, he seemed embarrassed, so much so that when Eirika looked at him, she felt sorry for him. She couldn’t keep herself from frowning.

‘Why can’t he realize what his own amazing strengths are? It doesn’t matter if he’s bad at sword fighting, because he posesses kindness and intelligence that is unlike anyone else’s.’

This was the same Lyon that had led the Grado Army and conquered Jehanna. Eirika still couldn’t believe it. 

Of course, a commanding officer didn’t need to be an exceptional soldier. It was also conceivable that Lyon was just being used as decoration, and someone else was really leading the army. However, Eirika was still not convinced.

“I’ve heard that Prince Lyon has a gentle personality, and loathes fighting.” Innes whispered, as if he could read Eirika’s wavering heart. He had come up beside her at some point, and was now walking alongside her horse.

“Seems like it was all an act. Perhaps he deceived you and Ephraim to get you two to let your guards down.”

“...That’s...” Eirika wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t find any strength to put into her voice.

Innes had never actually met Lyon, so he was suspicious of him. Eirika could assert that the many different ways he'd shown kindness could not have been false, but it would only be her insisting that her memories were the truth with no proof at all against the fact that they knew for certain that he had conquered Jehanna. 

“I’ve heard that he can use dark magic. Do you know how skilled he is in it, Eirika?”

“...Yes. The bishop that taught him always praised him highly because of his intelligence and passion for studying. He seemed to read difficult books a lot.”

"Then he is very dangerous.” Innes furrowed his brow.

Though he may know dark magic, Lyon never studied it with bad intentions. Darkness was important for bringing peace to people’s hearts. Lyon’s passion for learning magic was always for the sake of others.

L’Arachel was listening to their conversation, and added, “We have no reason to fear the power of darkness, for we have received the gods’ blessing! We shall retake the palace in one fell swoop!”

“No, we do not know if the queen is safe yet. She’s been taken as a hostage, so we must tread carefully.” Innes said.

“You’re right…” All of the energy drained from within L’Arachel, and she sighed deeply.

ー

Eirika’s army set up camp outside the city and decided to finalize their strategy.

There were hardly any people in the capital, and it had become very quiet. At first, Jehanna Palace looked like a beautiful mirage, but from this closer distance, they could see that it was guarded by a sturdy wall. Now that it had fallen into the hands of the enemy, the strength of that wall had backfired.

“The only way to minimize the damage we cause as we attack the palace is to swiftly tear down the front gate. The armored knights should rush in with the cavalry, then the infantry should follow in right after them. Still, we must prepare to damage the palace if need be…” Seth’s expression was dark. 

Innes asked, “Were we able to acquire any knowledge about the palace’s inner structure?”

“No. It is very complex, and we do not know the details of it.”

“That’s not good. We have no idea what kind of traps the enemy has laid out...”

“Rather than tear down the front gate, we should go around the side.”

Eirika and the others all looked up towards the source of the voice that had suddenly cut in from the side.

Those attending the meeting should have been only the army’s leaders. However, at some point, Joshua had entered the tent.

Innes huffed and ordered, “We’re in the middle of an important meeting right now. Please leave.”

“You want to know the inner structure of the palace, right? I’ll tell you.”

“What? Why would you know…?”

“Please wait, Innes!” Eirika stopped him.

Joshua had many years of experience as a mercenary. He might have had an opportunity to obtain a map of the palace at some point. It was unfortunate, but they didn’t have time to question him about it. If they did not hurry, then the queen would be in trouble.

“Please tell us everything you know, Joshua. Are there any other methods of getting inside the palace besides breaking down the front gate?”

“The layout of the palace is very complex. The front gate is not the only way inside. There is also a small passageway that merchants use to get in and out. It is likely that the enemy has not realized it is there.”

“...Can you lead us to it?”

“Yes.” Joshua nodded lightly. 

Innes narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

But Eirika decided to trust him. She had been suspicious of his true motives once in the past, but up until now, he had always fought as another member of her army with all his strength. She did not want to question that sincerity any longer.

Joshua pulled out a piece of paper that had a quick sketch of the palace drawn on it. Though the drawing only consisted of simple lines, it was surprisingly detailed. It had everything they would need written on it, from the placement of the hallways and rooms, to where the stairs and even pillars were. 

“The throne room is inside here. Prince Lyon is most likely leading the army from in there. And in the basement, there is an altar. If they are keeping the queen confined, then it is likely that they are using this room down there to do so.” Joshua pointed at the map and explained. 

Seth and Innes stared at the map with very serious looks on their faces.

“We’ll designate a large enough force to rush the gate and feint an attack on it. They will be a diversion and draw in the enemy, and should attack and retreat repeatedly so that no one is injured. Using that gap in the enemy’s defenses, a small elite force will attack from the merchant’s entrance on the east side. The enemy's guard there will probably be light, so we should be able to attack and defeat them in one swoop. After we establish that area as a base, we will head for the throne room.”

“...Alright.” Innes seemed to agree with that strategy. He raised his head up with confidence and looked at Joshua. “I shall lead the diversion team. At the very least, we will make a scene, and keep them in one area. Eirika, I want you to lead the elite force. Joshua, you will of course guide Eirika down the merchant’s entrance.”

Eirika nodded and looked at Joshua.

He had the same thin smile on his face as always, but his expression looked a bit more stiff than usual.

It wasn’t just a strange feeling. Something about the way Joshua was acting was undoubtedly strange. A dark color shaded his eyes. He seemed to have noticed that Eirika was staring at him, as he quickly turned his head away, and rushed out of the tent.

[writersblockandapotoftea]

Scions of Syralth Masterpost Part 1

Scions of Syralth and the companion books to it focus on the brothers Arthur and Allistor as they try to stop their great-uncle from destroying the world in a grief-driven madness. Along the way, they meet several allies and close friends and discover that they’re the, well, the scions of Syralth, a legendary wizard and warrior, who’s sequestered himself deep in the mountains. Arthur goes on a perilous journey to meet him and begin his magical training, while Allistor commits himself to the Resistance, to fight the Empire which is steadily expanding over their home continent. Together with their friends and allies, they uncover the secrets of their home, dismantle the Empire  The books focus mainly on them of found family, hope in darkness, and revolution. As it stands, the only one I’m ready to show people is Scions of Syralth itself, which has a beta reader server on discord, which you can join by following this link: https://discord.gg/2846GWhG7E ! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 

The Books In Chronological Order (So Far): Dancing with Dragons: This is the prequel to the prequel, and it’s this enemy to friends to realizing we’re soulmates romp through the jungle while also making fun of the white saviour trope. Jal goes there to save the elves of the Wekuku jungle from a dark elven lord and his crystal associate, and instead ends up getting his ass beat by one of the dark elves forced soldiers, Pheo. Pheo’s orders are to bring Jal to the Dark Elf lord or his sister will be killed, but something about the surprisingly incompetent and goofy Jal makes him reconsider. Grigori the Guardian and The Treaty of Twelve: This fun little two-parter is the actual prequel to Scions of Syralth, focusing first on Grigori and his fight to save a dragon’s egg from a vengeful fire demon and a mysterious man made from crystal. It then shifts gears and focusing on Arthur and Allistor’s father, Ivar, as he tries to rescue Arthur and Allistor from the same man made from crystal. Allistor proves himself to be far more capable than anyone imagined and shatters the man, setting the pieces in place for Scions of Syralth. Scions of Syralth: This one has a BETA SERVER and is the only one with an official blurb: 

The Barlosian Empire is torn apart by war and revolution, a war that comes harshly into Arthur and Allistor’s lives one summer night. Separated by the machinations of Hjatle, the High Wizard, the two brothers are pushed into two very different worlds. Allistor joins the People’s Rebellion, taking him deep into the heart of the mountains as he fights the Imperial army. There he rises through the ranks, becoming an accomplished warrior. Arthur, however, must flee to the south, meeting two new allies entirely by accident. The trio is guided out of danger by a former dark elf, who leads them to a safe haven; The Tower. While there, Arthur struggles to control his magical powers, learning of the prophecy he and his brother must face to prevent the reemergence of ancient and powerful mage made of crystal. Hail to The Queen: This is the direct sequel to Scions of Syralth. The gang is beat to shit, and it’s time to rethink their strategy. This partially rewritten mess has a spy lesbian romance, some cool prosthetics and an angry vampire dragon.  This book brings about the end of the Barlosian Empire and sends Arthur into a dark spiral once he discovers what true power is. The crystal mage is backed into a corner and is forced to move his plans into their final phase, leaving the continent of Ebouline forever.  The Many Lands and Peoples of the World of Unitien: This is my worldbuilding magnum opus, with almost 70 000 words of pure, unhinged worldbuilding. It’s my reference guide to all of the people, places and things because honestly, my brain isn’t big enough for all my outlandish thoughts and I had to get them on paper somewhere. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS (MAINS)

Protagonists: 

Arthur Draga: Is the younger son of Ivar Bjarnson and Aoife Draga, and is the original protagonist of Scions of Syralth. He’s a kind-hearted young man, about  20 years old, raised deep in the Marish. Before his life went to shit, he wanted to go to the capital of the Marish, Epidamnos, to become an illuminator and a monk, and as such, he always carries a sketchbook with him. Colour Scheme: Sunflower Yellow, Moss Green, Snow White

Allistor Bjarnson: Is the older brother of Arthur, and fun fact, was originally the antagonist. He’s 25 years old, and before his life went to shit, he was the chief of their village, it was passed down from his father, who died about 9 years prior to the story. He’s stubborn and literally my only straight man, so uh, you’d better better he drinks his respect women juice. He’s been raising Arthur on his own, despite some attempts to have his little brother taken from him to be raised by a proper adult.  Colour Scheme: Scarlet, Forest Green, Leather Brown

‘Alexis’ Zhihao Bai Whitelocke: Is the best friend of Arthur and is a brilliant engineer and inventor. She’s the 21 year old daughter of Bitanese merchant tycoon Bai Lee-Jein and Marish Heiress Marigold Whitelocke and grew up in her mother’s family home, in the woods between Camelios and the Silver Valley. She’s creative, stubborn and strategic.  Colour Scheme: Steel Grey, Sky Blue, Thundering Purple

Antonio ‘Toni’ Thiago Barlios: Is the slow-burn romantic interest of Arthur, the  dreaming and disgraced youngest prince of the Empire. He’s 21 years old, and unlike his siblings, was raised by his grandmother, giving him an idealized idea of the world and a firm sense of right and wrong. He’s sensitive and kind of a dumbass, but his heart is in the right place.  Colour Scheme: Coffee Brown, Sea-Glass Green, Royal Gold

Nolio: Is a former dark elf trying to figure out his life beyond his incredibly fucked up relationship with the queen of the dark elves and has attached himself to these kids as a way to redeem himself. He’s tired, but he looks for the hope in every situation. Colour Scheme: Slate Gray, Marble White, Opal 

Darjeeling Braga: Is the loud-mouthed, enthusiastic, half-elf best friend of Allistor after he joins the Resistance. He’s incredibly graceful and smart, but is also a complete and utter goofball a good deal of the time. He’s the adopted son of the leader of the Resistance, so don’t mistake his cheer for weakness.  Colour Scheme: Royal Purple, Black Tea Red, Starlight Silver.

I’ll keep going in part 2! 

Taglist: @synwrites @abalonetea @woodhouse-jay @expositionpreposition @ink-whiskey-seats @diseonfire @woodlights​ @pinespittinink​

[scarletarosa]

Abigor

One of the Goetic demons and is a Duke, under the command of Lucifer. This information was shared to me by him and is also my own experiences through working with this mighty infernal deity.

Other Names: Eligor, Eligos

Rulerships: legal matters, war, battle strategy, courage, valour, defense, protecting the vulnerable and the weak (many times he’s been a defender of those who love Lucifer and Lilith). He also has some affinity with foresight, not so much divination but an instinctual sense of preparedness.

History: As with all of the Goetic Demons, Abigor is an ancient god who was one of the agents of the source (”angels”) and had the task of defending various places on Earth. Back then, he was known as the White Knight. Abigor took on even more battles than instructed by protecting people from murders or rapes. One day, this caused him to not be around to defend his post, leading to people who were dear to him to suffer. This was deeply traumatic for Abigor who no longer felt at place with his duties, but it was Lucifer who approached him and offered Abigor a place within his kingdom. Now as a Duke and mighty war-chief in Lucifer’s kingdom, Abigor oversees many military matters; however, his role is mostly that of a Warrior Knight. 

Abigor is one of the finest war-chiefs in Hell due to his value of honour and allowing his strength to be fueled by his heart. He is deeply noble and trains his legions to be the same, showing them the true inner-strength that makes a great warrior. In combat, Abigor is nearly undefeatable and has been bested only a small handful of times out of countless battles. 

Military Rank: Duke

Element: Air

Colours: Vibrant green and yellow

Appearance: A large knight with silvery-black plate armour, feathered black wings, long flowing black hair, and pale white eyes. Although when angered, his eyes become ruby red. He can be seen bearing a lance, great sword, and other various weapons. Abigor has a massive physique with a very tall with a well-toned body that is able to lift and strike enormous weights. He also has a black horse with which he often rides into battle. When he fights, a black aura is sometimes seen. 

Personality: Abigor is fiercely loyal and brave, and always at the front line. He favours honesty and strength of character, and will assist those in need in those areas. He also favours challenges and progress through strife; he will help any person, no matter how weak, as long as they are willing to learn how to fight and rise in life, demanding their rights. He supports free-will over fatalism, and he promotes help towards people who are unjustly imprisoned or oppressed. Due to Abigor’s connection to nobility and allowing his strength to flow from his heart, the planet he corresponds to is Venus. Though he is less so connected to the artistic side of Venus since he tends to be more neutral towards art, focusing more on battle instead.  

Abigor will often test the people he guides with a series of challenges in order to help them become stronger. Injustice infuriates him and whenever possible, he acts as a Punisher. He never betrays his friends, and he values honesty and bravery at all times. He is understanding and supportive as a mentor, especially when he offers guidance to those too timid or too frightened to act. Abigor is also extremely honourable and will refuse to fight anyone, even his enemies, if they do not have a weapon. For this reason, he always grants a weapon to his enemy before they fight (if they are unarmed). 

Things that Abigor loves are castles, towers, wooden tables, mountains, plains, oak trees, geographical explorations, hunting, large oak barrels, large castle gates, hounds, the morning sky, the crescent moon, strategy, battle tactics, siege weapons, cannons, runes, tarot cards, scrying, black smithing, chess, fire places, and steam engines. He loves beer but only chooses to drink it as a reward for himself after achieving something; he is very disciplined and wishes to earn it instead. He hates things such as murders of unarmed people, arson of forests, plastic, drunkards, torturing of innocents, hypocrisy, and stupidity. 

How to call him: Speak to Abigor as you would with any other god, be polite and considerate. Contact him through telepathically speaking in your mind, directing the words to him (you can do this verbally, but if malicious spirits hear, they may pretend to be him). When inviting a Goetic demon to you, try to dress well for them since they are divine and royalty.

What he can do: Put you through trials for inner-strength, teach courage, help to fight against oppression, help in severing toxic relationships, protection from harm, help in legal matters, help in ritually consecrating an athame, justice, determination, and granting you the will to live.

His Enn (for devotion or meditation): “Aylan Abigor tasa uan on ca”

Offerings: beer (stout), gin, dry white wine, mixed fruit juice, red steak (medium or rare), veal, goat meat, cheeseburgers, cornbread, baked potatoes, oven-roasted wurst, omelet with asparagus, stove-baked bread, spicy soups, grapes, persimmons, chili peppers, cayenne pepper, dark chocolate, nuts, cinnamon, honey, ginger, turmeric, thyme, barley, beeswax, burnt wood, garnets, amber, tigers eye, two-handed swords, shields, medieval armour, war knives, war horns, war banners, tin flasks, nails, screws, griffin statues, eagle feathers, yellow candles, and incense of dried thyme or red sandalwood