#which is the next planned for Knowledge's lessons in magic series

[darkfluffydragon]

Here are some sketches I drew of Phantasmagoria Corrupted Burning Spice (Change) and Mystic Flour (Volition) :D

Just a fun lil thing while I debate to myself over whether to focus on the world-building or the story. Also Change as a cowboy..just for fun :')

[nobodyfamousposts]

About your Adrien's Lament series. Wouldn't it have made more sense to have Tom and Sabine as the new Hawkmoth and Mayura? Because of Adrien's wish he got his mother back, but the universe needed balance so someone had to take her place. That person was Marinette, so now her parents are trying to figure out a way to bring their daughter back. Since the cause was technically from the wish it would make sense why the butterfly and peacock can't heal Marinette.

Not quite. At least, not for what I was going for.

Part of the point was that Adrien took it upon himself to make the Wish, thinking that because he was the "good guy" and he was the one making the Wish instead of his father, it would just work the way he wanted it to with no ill effects and everyone would be better off for it.

He'd have his family back.

He knew Marinette and could easily go find her again.

And since his Dad would have his Mom, he would have no reason to become Hawk Moth.

Everybody wins, right?

He rationalizes it quite a bit to himself to convince himself to go through with it. And while he knows there's a "balance", he (like Gabriel) would assume it's a simple one for one exchange where Mom wakes up, someone else falls asleep (aka, someone he doesn't know and will never be confronted with), and the Agreste's still have the Miraculous. He thinks everything else would still be the same...and fails to take into account the whole "reality-altering" aspect of the Wish where if someone is going to end up in the magical coma, there would still need to be a reason WHY things ended up that way and an entire reality built around it.

In Adrien's case, once he has his family, he would immediately go looking for Marinette, figuring that now he can just date her as civilians. He would then immediately discover that she's in a coma due to "mysterious circumstances". Which right away would make him realize that Marinette took his mother's place.

He would next learn that there's a new evil Butterfly user who may or may not be terrorizing Paris or otherwise making his new life very difficult (because I doubt Sabine in particular would be so foolish in how she starts her attack, but if she gets Nooroo to tell her that the Agreste's are responsible for what happened to her daughter...oh yeah, she's definitely going to be plotting a few akumas their way). And while Adrien isn't the brightest bud on the stem, he should be able to figure out that Tom and Sabine are the new evil Miraculous users.

Cue Adrien trying to confront them himself with a passionate plea. If they don't kill him outright for having the gall to try to talk them down after making the Wish that cost them their daughter as an exchange in the first place, they may very well use him as akuma fodder. Maybe (MAYBE!) if Adrien was really lucky or managed to find some allies, he could win or somehow talk them out of it. It would ultimately end with Marinette restored but with no idea who Adrien is because it's a whole new timeline and Tom and Sabine would not allow him anywhere near their daughter after causing this mess.

So ultimately, Adrien doesn't get his Adrien/Maribug romance, which is sad but he can get over it. He DOES, however, get to go back to his home with his parents and gets to play happy family. Maybe still get to go to school and make friends so even if he gets admonished for making the Wish, he still wins out in the end and has no real lesson to learn and whatever guilt he could have would be limited because "everything turned out fine anyway".

My version as planned hits him with the knowledge that he has essentially ruined his friends' lives in a way that he can't fix and can't even try to make up for. No Miraculous is going to help their situation with their dad even if Anarka was able to be woken up. And Juleka's attacks on the city were a direct result of the position he put her in by making the Wish. It isn't just selfishness for her the way it was for Gabriel and Adrien, it's desperation over a home situation substantially worse than Adrien's in the pre-Wish setup.

Adrien's only options in this case are to either walk away and ignore the harm his Wish has done so he can continue to keep his happy family (as well as ignore the numerous Miraculous users who would be very unhappy with him for doing so) or to undo the Wish and restore the previous world to exactly how it was when you left it (which will include the prospect of having to face a very angry Maribug who will still know you betrayed her).

...naturally, I'm going with the option that's harder-hitting and forces Adrien to face a real conundrum...keep your Wish with the knowledge that you have left people to continue to suffer for it...or undo the Wish and give up your family being whole to go back to where you left things in the previous reality.

[akari-hope]

lgbtq+ anime for pride month

decided to make this for anyone looking for new recommendations, or anyone who’s wanted to get into anime but doesn’t know where to start! all recs will include a summary, genres, applicable representation, and how accessible it is to people brand new to anime, as well as any major content warnings.

(a quick disclaimer for those new to anime - some series on here will NOT have explicit rep, but rather be heavily coded or have implied queer themes. however, these are included generally because the implication is strong enough to treat it as text, or because the series has been generally accepted as queer. i’ll be sure to clarify whether something is canon or coded in each entry.)

ouran high school host club (comedy, romance) summary: haruhi fujioka is an honor student on scholarship at the prestigious ouran academy, who’s only looking for a quiet place to study when he runs into the notorious host club. in his frantic attempt to leave, he accidentally breaks a vase valued at 8 million yen. club leader tamaki suou has an idea for how he can pay them back - working for the host club. rep: crossdressing/drag are staples of this series, nothing explicitly stated but there are definite themes of gender identity exploration, and the show doesn’t shy away from homosexual themes or ideas accessibility: newcomer friendly! the english dub of this series is notably good. content warnings: some 2000s-era language in regards to gay/trans people that may be seen as offensive today, one scene that implies intent of sexual assault (while there is no actual assault and it is quickly played off, it may still be upsetting to some viewers)

yuri!!! on ice (sports) summary: yuri katsuki is a professional figure skater, recovering from a crushing defeat at the grand prix final. he returns to his family home to debate what he plans to do for next season. he goes to the local ice rink to clear his mind, and shows his old friend there something he’s been practicing - his idol victor nikiforov’s latest world-winning routine. unbeknownst to yuri, he’s being filmed. the video goes viral, and before he knows it victor is standing right in front of him, offering to be his coach. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: a few scenes that briefly display anxiety/panic attack-like symptoms

given (drama, romance) summary: one day on his way to his favorite napping spot in school, ritsuka uenoyama finds a boy, mafuyu satou, dozing in his spot, clutching onto a guitar with rusted, broken strings. uenoyama wakes him up, berating him for not taking better care of his instrument. mafuyu, noticing his knowledge of the instrument, begs uenoyama to repair it and teach him to play. uenoyama initially refuses, but mafuyu is persistent, even following uenoyama to band practice. it’s not until uenoyama hears mafuyu sing that he changes his tune, offering lessons if he joins the band as their singer. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: discussions of grief and loss additional note: given also has a movie sequel, which has a scene involving sexual assault.

sweet blue flowers / aoi hana (romance, slice of life) summary: fumi manjoume and akira okudaira were best friends in elementary school, until fumi moved away. now in high school, fumi is back and attending the same school as akira once again. their relationship isn’t the same now, though. the two must navigate the new trials of high school while trying to revive their waning friendship. rep: canon wlw romance accessibility: newcomer friendly!

bloom into you / yagate kimi ni naru (drama, romance) summary: yuu koito has always dreamed of the sort of soft, heart-fluttering love in shoujo manga. when a boy finally confesses to her though she feels...empty. she begins to wonder if she only understands love conceptually, but cannot feel it. yuu is still mulling over how to respond to her suitor when she witnesses the student council president, touko nanami, turn down a love confession of her own. she decides to approach touko for advice, but then the unexepected happens - touko confesses to yuu. rep: canon wlw romance accessibility: newcomer friendly! content warnings: some mild sexual content, depictions of homophobia

stars align / hoshiai no sora (drama) summary: toma shinjou is desperate to recruit new members to the boys’ soft tennis club, which is on the verge of being disbanded due to poor performance. maki katsuragi, the new transfer student, immediately catches his interest due to his quick reflexes. toma persuades maki to join, and maki’s skill quickly becomes driving momentum for the entire team. through their shared sport, the boys of the soft tennis club explore their own capabilities and hardships as they navigate life. rep: canon nonbinary character, discussions of gender identity and sexuality accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: discussions and depictions of abuse, bullying, and violence

mahou shoujo madoka magica (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: madoka kaname and sayaka miki are good friends, regular middle school girls with regular lives. one day, the mysterious homura akemi transfers into their class, and strange happenings begin occuring. they meet a strange cat-like creature known as kyuubey, injured and on the run from homura. as thanks for saving its life, kyuubey offers them a reward - he’ll grant any wish they desire, and in return they’ll become magical girls with the power to help others. homura, despite being a magical girl herself, discourages them, saying everything is not as it seems. rep: sapphic themes and implied romantic feelings accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, unreality, grief additional note: madoka magica has 3 movie sequels, with a 4th on the way. while the first two are merely recaps of the series, the 3rd, rebellion, is a continuation of the story.

no. 6 (sci-fi, drama) summary: the world has been ravaged by war - the last safe haven of mankind lies in six walled-off city-states. shion is an elite resident of one such city-state, no. 6, given priority housing and treatment due to his exceptional abilities. one night, a fugitive by the name of nezumi sneaks into shion’s room, and threatens to kill him. despite knowing he’s a fugitive, shion instead tends to his wounds and shelters him for the night. when his transgression is discovered by the authorities, shion and his mother lose their elite status, and are relocated. now just a regular citizen, shion begins to discover a new side to the city he’s called home. years after their first meeting, he reunites with nezumi once more - their meeting putting in motion a series of events that will unveil the secrets of no. 6. rep: canon mlm romance, trans/nonbinary coded character accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, body horror, insects (bees)

seraph of the end / owari no seraph (supernatural, action) summary: a virus ravages the human race, infecting and killing everyone above the age of 13. their food source now threatened, vampires come out of the shadows to take the remaining humans captive. the children of the hyakuya orphanage are among the survivors. yuuichirou detests the vampires, and is determined to escape. mikaela has hatched a plan to do just that. the hyakuya kids make their way to the exit of the vampire city, only to be ambushed by a vampire noble. yuuichirou is the only one to escape. he’s found by the japanese imperial demon army, who say they’ll use him against the vampires. believing the rest of the children dead, yuuichirou joins immediately, determined to seek revenge against the monsters who killed his only family. rep: implied romantic feelings between two men (in the manga the anime is based on this is canon, and the localization team views the relationship as romantic) accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, death, body horror, unreality

banana fish (action, crime drama) summary: ash lynx is a runaway on the streets of nyc, taken in and raised by the godfather of the mafia, dino golzine. now the leader of his own gang, he begins investigating “banana fish” - the only two words his brother will speak after returning from the iraq war. ash meets his friend skip at a bar, where he’s shunichi ibe and eiji okumura, japanese photographers covering american gangs. however, their conversation is cut short, as dino’s men storm the bar and kidnap skip and eiji. ash sets out to rescue them and continue his investigation. rep: canon mlm romance accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: blood, violence, major character death, drugs, homophobia, pedophilia, sexual assault, rape

wonder egg priority (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: after the suicide of koito nagase, ai ohto is left to grapple with reality without her best friend. under instructions of a mysterious entity, she purchases a wonder egg. ai breaks the egg in the world that materializes in her sleep, and is tasked with saving people. under the belief that she’ll be able to save koito, ai embarks on a journey where she must recognize the relationship between other people’s demons and her own. rep: canon trans characters, sapphic themes accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: blood, violence, death, suicide, self-harm, transphobia, fatphobia, bullying, abuse, pedophilia, sexual assault, rape additional note: wonder egg priority has a special airing on june 30th, 2021, meant to wrap up the original series - as of writing this post, the series is technically incomplete.

flip flappers (fantasy, sci-fi) summary: cocona is an average middle schooler liing with her grandmother, no clear goals in mind for the future. she meets an odd girl, papika, who inites her to join the organization “flip flap”. cocona finds herself dragged along by papika into the world of pure illusion, a mysterious alternate dimension where papika searches for crystal shards. as cocona and papika explore pure illusion, they awaken to the power within the crystals, transforming into magical girls. they must learn to work together in order to unravel the mysteries of pure illusion, and their pasts. rep: sapphic themes and exploration of sexuality accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable content warnings: mild violence, unreality, mild sexual themes and nudity

noir (action, drama) summary: parisian assassin-for-hire mireille bouquet receives a strange email from kirika yuumara, a japanese student, who invites her to make “a pilgrimage to the past”. mireille makes to dismiss the email as nonsense, until it starts playing a song she recognizes from her youth. when the two meet in person, they’re ambushed by gun-wielding men. to mireille’s surprise, kirika is able to fend for herself - even more surprising, kirika has no memory of how she has such skills. the two of them team up to unravel the mysteries of their pasts, operating under the codename “noir”. rep: canon lesbian characters accessibility: some prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is desirable, but not necessary content warnings: violence, death, implied rape and csa (not shown)

revolutionary girl utena / shoujo kakumei utena (fantasy, psychological drama) summary: after an encounter with a prince who comforted her after the death of her parents, utena tenjou is given a rose-crest ring, and a promise that they’ll meet again someday. however, utena has now committed to becoming a prince herself! after witnessing the abuse of fellow classmate anthy himemiya, utena is drawn into a dangerous game. duelists with rings matching her own battle for the ownership of anthy - the “rose bride”. utena decides she must free anthy from this fate. rep: canon sapphic characters, implied romance (in the movie sequel, this becomes canon) accessibility: prior knowledge of anime tropes and themes is necessary to fully enjoy this anime content warnings: unreality, violence, abuse, homophobia, pedophilia, incest, sexual assault, rape (for a comprehensive, spoiler-free breakdown of all potentially disturbing content, click here) additional note: the movie sequel, adolescence of utena, gives more explicit canon romance than the original series. however, the original series is considered an absolute classic must-watch for sapphics.

if anyone has questions about any series on here, feel free to ask! any other recommendations, feel free to tack on! (please include a summary, rep, accessibility, and any content warnings!)

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Hunting Palismans" From The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Today, I present to you reason #4,693 for why The Owl House is the best thing at the moment: It's the perfect balance of serialized storytelling with an episodic format. The story always moves forward with an exact order for how episodes should be watched, but each episode still functions as its own standalone tale. Having prior knowledge of what happened before adds more to the experience, but you can still watch whatever you want and still have an enjoyable time. Take "Hunting Palismans," for example. It adds so much more to the overarching narrative while slightly continuing other threads. But it's still something you can watch as is without remembering the past or wondering about the future.

However, to properly explain how requires spoilers. I wasn't kidding when I say that this episode adds so much, so you're going to want to be wary of that when you continue reading.

With that said, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Coven Heads Meeting: We already saw these fellow schmucks in the trailer, but that doesn't take away how cool they are! It's not explicitly stated which head belongs to which coven, but you can already tell who goes where just from their designs alone. And I love that. I love that just by showing us some excellent character designs, anybody with half a brain can already figure out the particular type of magic each Coven Head specializes in. It's a perfect example of the show-don't-tell level of storytelling that is always at its best through animation, and I'm all for it because of it.

What the Day of Unity is: Several fans, myself included, have already speculated that the Day of Unity was that Emperor Belos planned to combine the human world with the Boiling Isles and rule it all with an iron fist. That being said, figuring it out is one thing, but being told that it's true is a whole different level pants-s**ting horror that I AM NOT READY FOR! Even when it's going to happen, I can assure you that I will not be prepared to witness it ...and I am scared of when it does.

Belos Body Horror: ...Disney, I was already scared s**tless of this guy. I DO NOT NEED THIS!

That being said, seeing Belos do...whatever the f**k that was, helps explain further why he needs the magic in palismans. I always assumed because it's like fuel for a car, giving him the power he needs. Now, even though the answer is more apparent, there are still some questions to be had. Is he cursed, and the magic keeps it at bay like Eda's potions? Or did he experiment with the wrong type of magic, and the palismans keep him stable? Only the future can say for sure...and I'm also not prepared for the answers from that either.

Golden Guard is Belos’ Nephew: Gosh dangit, THE INTRO HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET, AND THIS EPISODE IS ALREADY GIVING SO MUCH!

But, yeah, the most powerful witch on the Isles is apparently Golden Boy's Grunkle Belos. That very knowledge is incredibly interesting to discuss while presenting possibilities for future narratives. I don't know about you, but I see the Golden Guard going down the path of Zuko, learning that the magic of friendship is worth much more than whatever power he gains from being Belos' nephew. And possibly earning his uncle's love seeing how he's the only family he has. It's a situation that's vastly different from Amity's because even when she defies her parents, she'll still have Edric and Emira at the end of the day. For Golden Guard, knowing that he lost a great family to wild magic, the inclination to go against Belos is a lot weaker due to him being all he has left.

Oh, and also, Belos' family getting wiped out because of wild magic. Yeah, not only does that give the best type of motivation for Belos' distaste for it, but it also explains the Golden Guard's hesitance to use it. He's inclined to so he can save his uncle, sure. It's only the fact that he knows what happens with wild magic that causes some resistance...Also, we're less than a minute in, and I'm already getting all of this from one discussion between two characters.

HOW IS THIS SHOW SO GOOD?!

Intro Changes: It's about time too. It seems weird that the crew waited to change Eda and King's designs in the intro this late in the game, but it also tells me that Amity dying her hair lavender is the last huge change this season will present. Otherwise, why change the intro at all if you were going to alter Luz, Willow, and Gus' designs anyway? It just doesn't make sense to me.

Luz Keeping the Echo Mouse as a Pet: The fact that she keeps the most important creature in the world to her as a pet...it's...it's adorable, alright? And as we established several times, I cannot hate adorable things.

Don't judge me!

Amity Staying Home: There are two plausible ways why Amity didn't go to school that day. Either she's getting punished for dying her hair or because she's trying to avoid Luz so they won't talk about the you-know-what. Either could work and seem understandable to Luz, thus explaining why she admits how "that makes sense." Although, there is something to discuss in how Luz is curious as to where Amity is. Judging from the tone of her voice, it's pretty clear that she wants to talk about the little peck on the cheek and maybe get some confirmation as to what it means. Because there is no going back from that. You can explain away saying or doing something stupid, but you cannot un-kiss a cheek. That is a point of no return, and if Amity really is avoiding Luz because of it, that means it's up to our favorite weirdo to make the first move. As for what that may entail...we'll just have to wait and see.

Frewin: We get two bits of information here for the price of one reveal here. Knowing that Frewin is a palisman is shocking enough, but the knowledge that Bump is partially blind and needs Frewin to see? That is an intriguing piece of intel that I would have never expected to get revealed. This is reason #5,279 for what makes The Owl House so good. Even when the show presents information you wouldn't guess, it's all so interesting anyways that you can't help but go along with it.

Adopting Palismans: First of all, love the fact that the Bat Queen makes a return to provide a solution to the palisman trees being rare and solving her own problem regarding the discarded palismans. It's a situation where everyone wins in a way that is so clever that I can't help but admire it.

Second, the idea of students choosing to adopt palismans instead is cute. I'd say it gives further insight into who these characters are in how they say what they want to be, but there's nothing really new added that fans couldn't figure out from the get go. But I will say that it's pretty cool to know that these characters have official staffs now. Speaking of which, if you're upset that their palismans don't match up with your headcanons...grow up.

This was a cute and smartly written scene that should not be bogged down by whiney fans who can't accept a series doing something different from what they expect.

Little Rascal: I’d take a bullet for this bird. That is all.

Luz Being Uncertain of her Future: A lot of fans offer several ideas of what the future could look like for Luz. Will she stay in the Boiling Isles? In Connecticut? Or will she go back and forth? We don't know, but one question we rarely brought up is what does Luz want? More specifically, what does she want to do? After everything Luz went through, the adventures she's gone on, and the lessons learned, what is something that Luz wants her future to be? That's an answer she doesn't really figure out, and I'm genuinely ok with that being a question that's tabled for another day. Most kids who ask that question themselves aren't always going to find an answer after a short amount of time and sometimes even need to spend their lives trying to figure it out. So having it be something Luz has to consider and probably find out in a future episode is the smarter option, as it allows time for it to simmer in her own mind and provides more insight into her character. As stated several times in this episode, she doesn't think things through, so it's nice that the writers finally allowed her some time to wonder what's next when the adventure is over.

Luz Having to Improvise Without Paper Glyphs: You want to know what my favorite Spider-Man moments are (this is relevant. Trust me). My favorite moments are when Spidey's web-shooters run out of fluid, and he's forced to improvise with that big brain of his to find a solution. That's sort of what happens with Luz in "Hunting Palismans." She didn't bring her glyphs with her (why would she), so she's forced to use the environment around her to make new ones. Plus, Luz also flexes her knowledge of the Boiling Isles by mixing her glyphs with a magical plant (which Willow certainly told her about) so that she and the Golden Guard could knock out Kikimora's dragon. It's yet another showcase of her intelligence that a lot of fans are too keen to overlook. Unfortunate to see, too, because looking at how well Luz can craft the perfect solutions by fighting smarter, not harder, is a fantastic add-on to her personality. I love characters who win through their wits rather than their raw powers, and I once again hope more people will catch onto that aspect of her too.

Golden Guard Whistling the Theme: Look, I love it when a show acknowledges its own theme song, ok? Leave me alone.

Luz and the Golden Guard: This is one of those dynamics you didn't know you wanted until you have it. And now that I have it, I DEMAND MORE!

Seriously, seeing these two interact off of each other was a ton of fun to watch. When Luz and GG are initially at each other's throats, their threats and mockery towards one another aren't out of spiteful anger between two mortal enemies. It's more like...two siblings who get on each other's nerves yet are supposed to deal with one another. It's equally adorable and hilarious, and yes, I absolutely loved that they're forced to work together in this episode because of it.

Although, while the entertainment value is fantastic, it also adds more proof of why Luz is the best character in the series. She spends one night with this guy, and that's more than what she needed to make a difference with him. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're buddies now, but Luz definitely sowed the seeds into his redemption. He's far from willing to join her side, but he still does something he rarely does with anyone else: He told her that his name is Hunter. And this is what Luz does. Through nearly every person she meets on the Boiling Isles, she always manages to change them for the better. It'll be a while before Hunter deflects from Belos, but if Amity proves anything, Luz has a way of sneaking into people's hearts. They just need to spend more time with one another, and I can't wait to see what happens next because of it.

Kikimora Wanting to Kill Hunter: This shows a lot about who Kikimora is, but it potentially proves just how dysfunctional the Emperor's Coven can be. If Kiki proves anything, the coven must be filled with people willing to backstab and cheat their way to get on Emperor Belos' good side. Just look at Lilith. She literally cursed her own sister just to get in and received all the rewards because of it. The Emperor's Coven may be the best choice for witches to do magic, but if you're surrounded by people you can't trust, then is it really worth it?

The Guards Not Knowing Who Hunter is: This helps add to how much of a big deal it is for Hunter to reveal his name to Luz. If people can't even recognize his face, there's a chance it means that he keeps his true identity a secret except for those in his inner circle.

And the coven guards brushing off his brand is more than believable to me. They may be aware that Belos' right hand is young, but teens will be teens. Anybody with enough artistic talent can fake a brand. So it isn't too far off for those two to think Hunter was just a kid pulling a prank.

Hunter is Powerless Without his Staff: Not much to say here. It's just some more neat insight into Hunter's character that makes me wonder if even Belos' magic is real magic.

But I will say this: The fact that Hunter comes from a lineage of powerless witches, well, who's to say that isn't because of a...certain ancestor?

(*Cough* Hunter is related to Philip *Cough*)

Hunter vs Kiki: A pretty well-animated fight scene that adds potential drama to the story for the future. Now that Kikimora knows that Hunter helped Luz escape with the palismans (albeit unwillingly), she may or may not hold that over his head when the time comes. Or, at the very least, decides to keep a closer eye on him whenever he makes a slip-up.

Eda and King Getting Luz her own Palisman Wood: These last two weeks have been severely lacking in the Eda and King department, but scenes like this more than make up for it. Those two have formed such a bond with Luz to the point where they would do the impossible if it meant she would feel better. It proves just how much of a family they all are and the lengths they would go for each other. After all, weirdos have to stick together.

Little Rascal going to Hunter: Hunter is right. That was surprising.

Given how much Little Rascal stuck by Luz, I was more than positive that she would be the one he chose. So seeing Little Rascal pick Hunter instead is a much nicer twist. There could be multiple reasons why, and I'm just going to leave that to the analyzers in this fandom to decide. Especially since the answer isn't really all that important.

So, instead, I'm going to go ahead and sit in the corner as I wOrRy AbOuT tHe DaY tHaT bElOs FiNdS lItTlE rAsCal!

IT'S GONNA HAPPEN! AND I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY, IF THE WRITERS KILL HIM, I WILL NOT BE HAPPY!

WHAT I DISLIKED

First, there's...um...

Well, there was this...

Ok, as much as I liked--No, that turned out well anyways...

…

...

...I've got nothing.

I, honest to goodness, have no complaints about "Hunting Palismans" Not even the tiniest of nitpicks I would usually ignore due to how well-executed everything else was.

It's all written fantastically to the point where it's...perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Hunting Palismans" is an easy A+. It introduces even more plot threads, gives insight into characters, and despite being essential to the story, it still manages to be a fun episode all on its own. And, I'd go so far as to say that it's one of the best, if not the best, episodes in the series. There's nothing bad about it, and that surprises me. I rarely find nothing bad to say about any story, even the ones I enjoy greatly. I'm sure there are some flaws that others would be more than happy to point out, but why bother hunting for the imperfections when I could accept that, for once, an episode is simply perfect.

(And that’s six hits in a row...THAT STINKER IS GOING TO HAPPEN! It hasn’t happened yet, BUT IT’S GOING TO HAPPEN! I CAN FEEL IT!)

[sophlubbwriting]

Shifting to your arms - 02

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: This is a slice-of-life series where you, the reader successfully shifted realities with the goal to spend time with Loki. Nothing too intense.

A/N: I was quite scared to write a fight scene, especially since my knowledge about actual fights was... limited... but here it is! I hope y'all like it!

Feel free to shoot me a request and I'll see what I can do!

Taglist: @gingerspicetalks​ @adoreyou976​

Feedback is always appreciated!

Chapter Summary: Fight training with the god of mischief. There isn’t much else to it.

Chapter warnings: fight training, self doubts, Loki being Loki

Word count: 2016

9:50pm.

Lucky for you, a pair of black sweatpants plus an oversized zip-up hoodie just waited for you in your wardrobe.

You couldn’t waste any more time and felt comfortable with your choice of clothes, so you opened the door and stepped out on the hallway. The whole tower felt more silent than it had been a few hours earlier which might be caused by the time Loki had picked. Everyone was following their respective evening routine, but it isn't too late to be seen in the corridors.

While strutting to the gym, you checked whether you had everything with you. You got a bottle of water, that's it. After all, what else did you need?

Contemplating your choice, you were doubting yourself. Would Loki be a good teacher? What would he teach you? He is a true genius when in regards to all things magic, he was also a master manipulator, but the god of mischief doesn't seem like someone well-versed in hand to hand combat.

However, Loki really seems to love his daggers. Honestly, it's kind of weird how he isn't the god of daggers as well, it would surely be a fitting title. Maybe you can somehow convince him to give you a dagger and show you how to fight with it.

Receiving one of Loki's truly beautiful daggers sounds like a great idea, but it would probably hit too close to home for Loki. Giving someone their dagger, is a huge tradition in Asgard connected with courting someone after all.

So, looks like you won't get a dagger.

As you entered the gym, the smell of new gym mats and sweat flew in your face, but what ended up taking your breath away was the backside of someone's infamous asgardian combat clothing. Why was he standing there? Has he been pacing up and down while waiting for you? You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him waiting for you impatiently.

“Oh look at that, right on time. I didn't expect that  from a midgarian.”

Of course Loki would talk down on you based on your midgarian heritage, that was predictable. It would have been out of character if he didn't, honestly.

He sighed and he finally turned around, a hint of a smirk was still visible on his face.

“But at last you're here, so let's...”

Slowly mustering you, he took a moment to finish his sentence, dropping his smirk.

“...begin. Is that what midgarians deem as 'fashionable'?”

And with it the grin you wore was washed away. His mischievous tone vanished rather quickly, causing you to feel quite self aware. Your confidence from earlier? Gone, just like that.

His words hurt you more than you anticipated, but you tried your best to hide your vulnerability.

In an attempt to defend your choice in clothes, you told him that you valued comfortability over style. “Unlike you, I don't have to dress to impress.” you added. Scrunching his nose the god wanted to drop another sassy comment, but he decided otherwise.

You shook your head. Being still a bit salty after his rude comment, you voiced your doubts.

“Honestly, I don't know anymore if you were the correct choice.”

Nothing.

You both just stood there and looked into each others eyes. For a second you thought Loki's eyes looked... disappointed?

The silence was unbearable, but neither of you knew what to say, until Loki found his voice again.

“Pardon me?” he asked, finally breaking the silence after what felt like hours, but could have been only seconds.

In an effort to do some sort of damage control, you couldn't stop yourself from rambling and explaining yourself.

“You're an awesome sorcerer and I can't even imagine what you're capable of doing with those... those daggers, but... how much do you actually know about hand to hand combat?”

Now, he stopped being disappointed, if he ever was. He chuckled and started acting offended:

“I know my magic abilities are... out of this world, but I can assure you I have earned my fair share of experience in hand to hand combat.”

“But having experience doesn't mean you're good”, you intervened his arrogant praise with a sly smirk. Having seen a glimpse of emotional vulnerability in his eyes, you felt oddly calm around him. Your newly found confidence manifested itself in one sassy comment after another. “If I recall correctly, Valkyrie easily bested you.”

“Why don't you go ask Valkyrie for help then?” Loki asked boldly.

“Touché.”

Just like that, you both stepped into the boxing ring.

“I would assume I'd have to explain the basics to you first, now.”, Loki exclaimed whilst spreading his arms. “Everyone has their very own distinct style. Whereas Valkyrie” - he made sure to stress that name derogatorily - “likes to show off and tends to pride herself with... well, everything she possibly can, whereas I personally-”

“You prefer debating, silver-tongue. I get it.” you taunt him with a smirk. He didn't seem touched by your commentary. While you rolled your eyes, the god of mischief continued his speech.

“It's usually easier to complete the missions stealthily or to talk yourself up the ranks. Infiltrating the enemy, that's my speciality. You shouldn't underestimate the power of subtlety.”

You knew he was good, but you couldn't help yourself but to keep teasing him. To see him mildly annoyed filled you with joy, letting him taste his own medicine, although you felt as if you started to understand, why he made the comments he made.

“Is that because you can't-”

Loki requited your comment so quick, you hadn't the opportunity to finish it. The next thing you knew was how your back hit the floor and you saw Loki towering over you.

“First lesson: You shouldn't aggravate your opponent unnecessarily, you might end up with a... disadvantage.” He emphasized the last word with his raspy voice, not imaginable what he was alluding to.

With a slightly hurt pride you stood up again. “You're quick.” you stated the obvious. Acting like you would know more than you did, you put your fists up and in front of your face the way you saw it in movies often. The adrenaline rushed through your veins, you could feel it, and you glared at the god in front of you.

With a quick jab, you aimed for his stomach and were sure to hit, but with a swift step he avoided your punch altogether. Astounded by his quick movement, you weren't able to retrieve your arm quick enough to protect yourself from his counter.

He grabbed your arm and stepped a foot behind your leg. In one fluid motion your legs were kicked up and you were sent flying with an involuntarily backflip. Lucky for you, your forearms were at least quick enough to protect your face.

“Oh dear, you really don't know anything about fighting, do you?”

With an exasperated groan you pushed yourself up, back on your feet. This was way more exhausting than you thought it'd be. With heavy breaths you assessed the situation for the first time.

Loki was way quicker than you, a surprise attack wouldn't work. A feint attack? He'd probably still be quick enough to evade, if not counter. But what if...

“Al...right” you panted demotivated. “I...” and you fell forward and followed through with your plan.

Loki's reflexes forced him to catch you. Predictable. You slithered your arms around his neck, adjusted your position and swung your legs around his waist. Due to the momentum of your legs you were able to make the god stumble, but it wasn't enough to make him fall yet.

In your books, that was a win. Not only have you been able to make contact at will, you have successfully tricked the god of trickery.

Who would've imagined that thinking before doing something would ever turn out to be so efficient?

Of course he was quick to push you off and have you land on the floor again, but that wasn't enough to negate the sense of achievement that was flooding your mind.

You didn't even try to hide the grin.

“I have tricked you” you joyfully retold the event, small giggles escaping your lips.

“I'm still standing” he nonchalantly stated. While he wasn't wrong, you felt like you made progress.

“But I made you stumble.”

After a few more rounds of your attacks and some sparse tries to defend yourself, you didn't have any more energy to focus on fight training. It must have been midnight already, two hours filled with training have passed. Your zip-up hoodie was thrown in a corner, discarded a while ago as you felt like you were sweating too much, and you had revealed the plain t-shirt you wore underneath.

“Alright, my dear, I think this is the time to finalize the conditions of our little deal.” Loki tried to conceal his heavy breathing and knelt down next to you, not bothering helping you up. Reluctantly you sat up and told him to go on.

“Since you want to learn how to fight properly, we'll have to train more often, however I am not going to do so without... compensation.”

This simple sentence rang alarm bells in your head, especially since you are already planning on baking a cake which you intended to be enough. There was no way he had forgotten it already.

“You can't have forgotten it already.” You shot him a quick glance as he followed up with something that lead you to believe he was planning something.

“Lemon cake, I didn't forget, but I'm afraid that won't be enough for all lessons, darling. Let's just say... you owe me. Plus, today I was just assessing your skills. I have yet to show you a few exercises to train for yourself.”

Scrunching your nose at his not very concise proposal, you decided to bluff an told him you were just going to ask someone else to teach you, if he was being serious, but to no avail Loki saw right through it. He proclaimed “If I were you, I wouldn't do that. I figured you would prefer me to keep these interactions a secret, wouldn't you?”

The god of mischief clearly had the upper hand in this negotiations.

Albeit you were visibly displeased by his threat to tell everyone you couldn't fight, you gave him your final reply with a scoff.

“Well, I don't really have much of a choice now, do I?”

There it was. That mischievous twinkle you saw in his eyes earlier, paired with a smirk. You don't know how, but you couldn't stay mad at him. You just couldn't.

You shook your head and smirked again. “It almost feels like I just sold my soul.”

Surprising to you, Loki tried to calm you down. Did he think you were actually afraid of losing your soul to him?

“Don't worry, my dear, even if it would be possible to separate one's body from one's soul, I would never intend to steal yours. Quite frankly, I wouldn't even know, what to do with it!”

He even put his hands up in front of him to show you, he wasn't trying to 'grab your soul' or something. It looked rather adorable and made you laugh, which left Loki staring at you confused.

You were contemplating whether you should explain it to him in full, but ultimately decided against it, it would take too long. Instead, you said the next best thing. “I was kidding, Loki!”

After some more laughing you asked him what has been on your mind since you sealed the deal.

“So, when will we meet again?”

The raven haired god turned to you and thought about it for a second while looking at you. You looked in his eyes for longer than you should have, but the answer he gave you with a smirk was quick to grab your attention.

“Tomorrow, same time. If you want to see me only at the gym, that is.”

You copied his smirk with a quick glance at lips.

“You'll see.”

[queenangst]

*sitting in front of a fic hoard* i would love some ff.net merlin recs

i’m copying this list from recs on discord, so i won’t be formatting it the same way i usually do. i’m really sorry, but there’s a lot of fic and i don’t have time. there may also be re-recs on account of cross-posting.

this list is focused on gen merlin fic, particularly whump or angst. i did toss in some general fic recs in there too.

Two Days

Post 5.13. Somehow, even without a clear view of his face, Arthur can tell Merlin's smiling. It seems like Merlin's always smiling, these days.

Fisticuffs 

When Agravaine interrogates Merlin about Emrys, he did not expect his anger to get the better of him. Nor did he anticipate Sir Percival seeing, a severely broken jaw, or an extremely unimpressed king. No slash.

Rules of Proprietary 

A young visiting princess could use a lesson in humanity. Perhaps it is the cruel streak of Merlin and Arthur’s destiny that dictates she learn it at their expense.

Healing Spells 

After revealing his magic to Arthur due to life-threatening circumstances, Merlin decides it's time he learned to heal. With Gaius off dealing with an illness in the outer villages, Merlin is left to his own methods, bearing some rather costly outcomes.

On Matters of Trust 

When Camelot faces attack by a powerful sorcerer-king, Arthur must seek the only one who can save the kingdom. Unfortunately, Emrys doesn't want to be found. Set between seasons 2 and 3.

Through the White 

In which Arthur learns rather surprising truths, Hunith pays a visit to Camelot, a witch makes a prophecy and Merlin is caught in a conflicting choice. No Slash. Gratuitous Merlin! Whump/ Bromance.

Master of Two Servants 

Morgana's plan didn't go quite right when Arthur arrived to rescue his servant. But what is a king supposed to do when he knows his most trusted friend has been cursed to kill him?

I'll Fight for You 

'But he found out just that when the king's fingers curled into a hard stone, his knuckles whitened from being clenched so tightly, fist raising beside his own head and pulling back. And before anyone's minds could catch up, the damage was already done. Because the next minute left Merlin lying curled up on the floor...' Set S2. No slash. Protective!Arthur. Hurt!Merlin.

Worse Things 

"Merlin had to dig his fingernails into his hands 'till they bled in order to drag his mind out of the forests of Longstead and back into Camelot. It was just like the Lamia all over again." Gen, friendship. Tag to 4x08.

Breathe 

Merlin saves the day - yet again - when he manages to get an injured Arthur and knights to safety. But Merlin's troubles are far from over when an investigation into what had happened to the king and knights leaves him in a bad way, and now it's Arthur and Gwaine's turn to be there for him. Gen, friendship.

Crossing the Line 

Merlin was no stranger to being tormented by the knights of Camelot, but when one ups the ante he finds that while not all of them know where to draw the line, at least some will come to his aid when it is crossed. Set during S2.

Alright, Fine, and Other Words of Wellness

"He's taken a heavy blow to the head… He should be fine, sire, but there's no telling when he'll regain consciousness." Merlin was always alright, but this time he wasn't. In the end, the prophecy will be fulfilled, one way or another. It never said by whom. They are two sides of the same coin, after all. AU ending to 5x04 Another's Sorrow.

Beyond Recall

After a terrible accident, Merlin is left with no memory of his time in Camelot. Separated from Arthur and all who could tell him who he is, Merlin tries to piece together his life and his loyalties. But loyalties can be influenced; lives can take very different paths to the ones they were destined for. And a lost sorcerer is a very powerful and useful weapon to have.

Taking Care of Merlin

A series of one-shots/drabbles about sick, badly injured, and/or hurt Merlin. Despite all that, he always seemed to have Arthur to help him out. [No slash, just lots and lots of bromance.]

Grave Knowledge

In which Arthur learns to tell when Merlin is dying. Like anything else about the warlock, this is not as straightforward as it seems. Why does ARTHUR see the light when MERLIN is dying?

Ring of Ice 

Merlin is immediately suspicious of a visiting noble- little does he know the man also has eyes on the servant.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXXVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Book 6 was beyond complicated to write due to some artistic choices I made lmao but again I do hope you guys like it even if I don’t feel it was perfect bc I enjoyed how most of it turned out -Danny

Words: 4,005

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘The Black and White’ -by The Band CAMINO.

Chapter Thirty-Five: A Prophecy.

Harry walked back to his chair and sat down heavily.

"Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well — not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. I considered it almost a miracle when Emily agreed to move in next door so she could keep an eye on you..."

Even though Lord Voldemort perished that night in Godric's Hollow, his followers continue to hunt down answers for months, neither Harry nor Mel would've been safe in the wizarding world.

"You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated — to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died —and your father too, Mel— to save you. They gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood, Harry. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."

"She doesn't love me. She doesn't give a damn —"

"But she took you. She may have taken you grudgingly, furiously, unwillingly, bitterly, yet still she took you, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you. And as for you, Mel, you were just a baby, therefore Voldemort's followers couldn't tell if you were as skilled as your dad. It was only until last year when Voldemort realized you were hiding great power."

"I still don't —"

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, Harry, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort. He shed her blood, but it lives on in you and her sister. Her blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, there he cannot hurt you. Your aunt knows this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, on her doorstep. She knows that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"My mother isn't a Dumbledore," Mel frowned. "If that's what kept Harry safe, living with his aunt, then why did I only meet you after I turned eleven?"

"You were a direct descendant from my brother and not me, you weren't in danger as much as Harry. Once I found out about your outbursts I talked to him, I knew you'd need his protection... I'm afraid his guilt stopped him. I've been taking his place, having you come into my office for a weekly lesson as a way to make sure you would be both, protected, while also learning to defend yourself."

Harry came into a new realization.

"You sent that Howler. You told my aunt to remember — it was your voice —"

"I thought that she might need reminding of the pact she had sealed by taking you. I suspected the dementor attack might have awoken her to the dangers of having you as a surrogate son." 

"It did. Well — my uncle more than her. He wanted to chuck me out, but after the Howler came she — she said I had to stay. But what's this got to do with..."

"Five years ago, then, you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well-nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well."

The memory of that small boy came to her. He didn't look much different from the Harry sitting beside her, except perhaps, for the way his gaze had darkened. 

He'd always known Harry and Mel would eventually be hunted, and he'd made sure they'd be ready. Dumbledore had a plan from the moment they set a foot in the castle. She wondered exactly how much of everything happened accidentally, and how much had been planned.

"I don't understand what you're saying." 

"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby? Ought I to have told you then? You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age, just like I refused to tell Mel about the rumours surrounding our family."

'The knowledge would be too much at such a young age'. Now, after four years, Mel felt weaker than when she was eleven. Somehow thinner, and far more fragile.

"Do you see? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"I don't —"

"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

Mel visibly deflated, a new wave of hurt crashing against her heart.

"So it's true, then?" She asked. "Caring only makes us weak?" 

"My dear, I defy anyone who has watched you as I have —and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined — not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a pair of young souls on my hands..."

Mel had held something similar whenever she would reach out to kiss Harry, and nothing else in the world mattered when they were alone together... but after the third task, they were always so alone.

"...You came out of the maze last year, having watched Cedric Diggory die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself... you, Mel, gave away part of your own life, selflessly risking your own well-being just for the frail chance to see Harry again, and I did not tell you, because to tell you after having almost lost each other in such a way would've been beyond cruel, though I knew, now Voldemort had returned, I must do it soon. 

And now, tonight, I know you have long been ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another — the greatest one of all."

"...I still don't understand," Harry responded, though now his voice was a bit more quiet and fearful.

Dumbledore admitted what they already knew: Voldemort tried to kill him because of the prophecy, and he'd tried to stop it before it could be fulfilled. Now, years after and once again in a proper body, Voldemort set his mind on hearing the whole thing, looking for a way to end it.

The sun was fully out now, and as he finished, Mel felt the first glimmer of hope peering through.

"Mel broke the prophecy," Harry said quietly. "She crushed it against the ground..."

She closed her injured hand tightly without caring about the sharp pain that shot up to her elbow. 

"I knew we could get rid of it."

"How?" Harry frowned. "How could you know?"

"Because that orb was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly," Dumbledore explained, looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes.

"Who heard it?" asked Harry, though he already knew the answer.

"I did. On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head Inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer, and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."

As Dumbledore stood up to retrieve something from a cabinet, Mel continued her story.

"That was the reason why my uncle knew what Voldemort was looking for," She swallowed harshly. "As soon as that thing broke I recognized the figure. How could I not? We've been seeing her for three years..."

Dumbledore came back holding the Pensieve, he put the tip of his wan on one temple and pulled, Mel stood up abruptly. 

"Maybe I shouldn't be here to hear it."

"You've earned your place in this conversation," Dumbledore replied. "Your life is linked to Harry's, is only fair for you to hear it too... that way you'll be able to make an informed decision."

"Only if he agrees." 

She was used to Harry keeping her at a proper distance from his doings, nevertheless, Harry grabbed her wrist.

"Sit down... please."

Before she could reply a figure rose from the Pensieve, there stood a small version of Sibyll Trelawney with a voice Mel had only imagined thanks to Harry's tales from two years ago:

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES..."

Professor Trelawney vanished slowly.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said after a moment. "It... did that mean... What did that mean?" 

"It meant... that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lord Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

"It means — me?"

Dumbledore eyed both teenagers carefully before speaking.

"The odd thing is, Harry, that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to three babies, one of them being Mel."

"What?" 

"I thought it was meant to be Matthew's baby," He sighed, "an Auror and a Dumbledore... but alas, you were born at the start of the month — and you were a girl. There were still two more babies in line. Both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"But then... but then, why was it my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"

"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child. It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."

"Then — it might not be me?"

"I am afraid that there is no doubt that it is you." 

"But you said — Neville was born at the end of July too — and his mum and dad —"

"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the boy who could vanquish Voldemort... Voldemort himself would 'mark him as his equal.' And so he did, Harry. He chose you, not Neville. He gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse."

"But he might have chosen wrong! He might have marked the wrong person!"

"He chose the boy he thought most likely to be a danger to him. And notice this, Harry. He chose, not the pureblood (which, according to his creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood, like himself. He saw himself in you before he had ever seen you, and in marking you with that scar, he did not kill you, as he intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape him not once, but four times so far — something that neither your parents, nor Neville's parents, ever achieved."

In her mind, an alternate life started to take form: Mel as the orphan, Harry's parents alive and well, it was her the one facing death every time... 

Then poor scarred Neville, while Mel and Harry lived surrounded by their families, perhaps even together. The fact that the only reason why Harry was the chosen one was a matter of gender and dates... 

"Why did he do it, then? Why did he try and kill me as a baby? He should have waited to see whether Neville or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then — or even Mel... She's a Dumbledore — She's the strongest!"

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course, except that Voldemort's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Hog's Head Inn, which Sibyll chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Three Broomsticks. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Sibyll Trelawney, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My — our — one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So he only heard..?"

"He heard only the first part, the part foretelling the birth of a boy in July to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort. Consequently, he could not warn his master that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you — again marking you as his equal. So Voldemort never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait or to learn more. And once Mel was born at the start of July as a girl, and you a boy, this only narrowed it down to his apparent advantage. He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord knows not' —"

"But I don't! I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or — or kill them —"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore replied carefully, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. 

That power is what has aided Mel to know if you're in danger and allowed her to help, that power took you to save Sirius tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Voldemort, because he could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force he detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you. So you see, Mel," He added, "caring it's never useless."

"The end of the prophecy... it was something about... 'neither can live...' "

"'... while the other survives,' " Dumbledore concluded.

"So... so does that mean that... that one of us has got to kill the other one... in the end?"

"Yes."

They stayed silent for the longest time, Mel found her voice at the same time as her courage.

"Okay," She spoke. "We just have to make sure you're the one that lives."

Dumbledore's face hinted at a smile, but it did not form fully. Harry stared at her like the thought of surviving was next to impossible.

"I feel I owe you two other explanations," said Dumbledore carefully. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as prefects? I must confess that I rather thought both of you had enough responsibility to be going on with..."

Mel let out a dry chuckle, Harry just sighed. 

"The second and final... is about the decision you ought to take."

"What decision?"

"Your lifeline," He started, "I've been reading about it since the third task... It's called Unio Azoth — A universal cure for any kind of injury, you heal with life itself, and it's always effective. However, not many people dare use it because it demands great sacrifice from both sides of the connection. It's created through highly complex magic, or it can happen, as it was your case, after multiple shared near-death experiences," He paused. "It can also be removed."

There was a split second in which the students didn't know how to react. 

"You're saying," Mel started. "We've been hurting each other for a whole year — and you hid this from us?"

"You were on bad terms after the tournament, the removal can only happen if both sides consent, and you were holding onto it tightly, Mel."

"Is it dark magic?" Harry asked abruptly. "Our connection?"

Dumbledore took another long look at him.

"I believe that what you're trying to ask is if it's damaging for any of you," He replied. "Which is something that depends on the circumstances. There have been moments your connection has improved your lives, but it's also damaged you physically to a great extent. You're asking a question only you can answer, Harry."

"This could've fixed everything between us," Mel felt her anger increasing. "And you just let us argue instead? Why?"

"It was your impulsive actions that kept me from speaking, I couldn't risk one of you trying to cut it without the other knowing, it would've resulted in tragedy."

"We would've acted differently if only we’d known! The reason why we fought was because of how guilty Harry felt about putting me through extra pain — We could've just cut the damn thing — You thought I would've just decided to abandon him?"

"Isn't that what you were attempting this year?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

"Harry and I couldn't stop fighting, I was tired — I had to keep my distance," Mel stood up. "He spent a whole year drowning in guilt thinking we couldn't change things —"

"When I found out it could be removed," Dumbledore's voice came out just as firm as hers. "You were already far too traumatized. Losing this would've felt like losing a limb. You weren't ready to make a choice then, but I can't keep you in the dark any longer, you have the whole picture now, so you can make an informed decision, but I must ask you to think —"

"I don't need to think it over," Mel said, but Harry spoke at the same time.

"I want to keep it."

"What?" She looked at him in disbelief.

Harry stared at her. 

"It's thanks to this that I knew you were having panic attacks, you've saved my life many times now, I owe you — and it doesn't have to hurt, you can control it, I just need to learn how to do it too!"

"You've been nagging me about how much of a burden this was and suddenly you cling to it as if it were a blessing?" She narrowed her eyes.

"It's just..." His jaw tensed. "It works both ways — if I give it up and Voldemort takes you... I can't leave you to deal with it alone, you'd do the same for me. You've already done it."

Mel shook her head, speechless.

"The decision is yours to make..." Dumbledore concluded. "You have until next term to tell me, and then we'll do whatever you please."

They were walking side by side without speaking. She did not wish to fight, and she felt like it would happen if they were to bring up... well, everything. 

"I'm sorry," He muttered. 

"I don't want to hear it. I'm to blame as much as you are. I ignored you — Dumbledore's right, knowing would've tricked us into thinking we could deal with it on our own, it would've killed us... I've been selfish enough this year to know I would've felt tempted to try and cut it on my own. I won't admit it in front of him, though..."

"You weren't —"

"I don't want to have this conversation," She stopped walking. "Everyone thinks I'm like my father or my uncle... and I'm not. When I was with you I was just Mel... whoever that's supposed to be. When we fought I got lost — you said awful things to me, but you were the only one who wasn't treating me like some overpowered freak..."

"I can't promise we won't fight in the future, but there are worse things than disagreeing and the thought of dying without telling you that I..." He came to a halt, voice breaking.

They wanted to talk about so many things, and yet Mel felt like they would never get to say anything at all.

"You know," She said softly. "We've gone through so much already... and it's hard, looking at you and having to pretend I can continue like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm feeling so alone, Harry," She forced the words out of her. "I miss you."

She'd almost been murdered that night, treated like a ragdoll, and traumatized until there was no safe place in her world. Still, nothing made her feel quite as vulnerable and tiny as Harry's understanding of her, the way he knew every single corner of her mind as if it were his own.

Harry gazed at her with hurt, he clenched his jaw and shook his head lightly. She was ready to watch him leave when suddenly, he hugged her.

Mel was having trouble breathing against his shoulder but her arms kept him close, one hand made its way up to the back of his head while the other went to the middle of his back. He was a few inches taller than her, but she still felt like they were a perfect fit.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled against her hair, and Mel knew he wasn't just talking about Sirius.

"Me too," She closed her eyes tightly. "We'll find a way through this... together."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle

[ponett]

Three novels down in my journey through Discworld! I’ve now read Equal Rites. As the first book not starring Rincewind, this one shifts its focus from wizards to witches, introducing another series mainstay, Granny Weatherwax

While it’s still obvious from the start that this is set in the same world as Rincewind’s misadventures, Equal Rites immediately feels like a very different book. It still has Pratchett’s comedic flair, but this book is incredibly earnest compared to the farcical tone of the last two books. At first, I was a bit disappointed that this book wasn’t as constantly funny as The Light Fantastic, but by the end I was deeply engaged by its more heartfelt narrative

You see, with this book, Pratchett has started to move from simple genre parody to satire. Equal Rites still pokes fun at fantasy conventions, of course, but at its heart is an examination of sexism and gender roles. It just so happens that this story is told through witches and wizards

The story begins when an elderly wizard travels to the rural town of Bad Ass (the story of how the town got its name is apparently interesting, although it’s never shared in the book). On the Discworld, the eighth son of an eighth son can perform magic and become a wizard, and so this particular wizard plans to pass his staff on to such a child before he dies. Except there’s a problem: after the wizard passes his staff on to the expected newborn, he realizes too late that the baby is, in fact, a girl. And then he dies, and the world is left with is first female wizard

We skip ahead about seven or eight years, and now the young Eskarina Smith wants to learn wizard magic even though she’s a girl. The book feels a bit like a young adult novel at times because its protagonist is a kid, although the narration makes it clear that the book is still written for adults. This is not the world seen through a kid’s eyes, but rather an adult’s commentary on how a kid sees the world. (The need to mark the book as for adults in spite of its young hero is also probably why the opening paragraphs reference sex, and why lots of jokes about adult things that go over Esk’s head are sprinkled throughout.) Esk is joined by Granny Weatherwax, the town witch who isn’t really related to her but is described as basically being everyone’s granny

For the first act of the book, Granny acts sort of as an antagonist (albeit a very mild one), teaching Esk the differences between witch magic and wizard magic and trying to stop her from learning the latter. Wizard magic is portrayed as being bombastic, changing the fabric of reality and shooting lightning bolts out of their hands and that sort of thing. Witch magic, on the other hand, is more in tune with nature. A lot of it could hardly be described as proper “magic” at all, actually--lots of knowing about herbs and home remedies and things. Another witch in the story reads palms and tea leaves, but most of her business seems to be selling some kind of homemade birth control concoction

As Granny puts it, a big part of being a witch is “headology.” Witches have to lean into the theatricality of their profession with the pointy hats and the spookiness and whatnot in order to be treated like witches, and that does half of their job for them. It makes people trust that the home remedies work, or believe that a witch could really curse them, or that sort of thing. Of course, Granny does also know quite a bit of “real” magic as well. The main power she uses is “borrowing,” the act of mentally becoming one with an animal--not quite controlling it, but rather “suggesting” its actions. This leads to some fun sequences throughout the book, including one where she borrows the “mind” of an old building said to have developed something resembling a consciousness over the centuries so that she can locate Esk within it

While there was a good deal of magic in the last two books (even if Rincewind, famously, cannot perform magic), the depiction of wizard magic in these books has already changed. In the first book, Rincewind explained that it took years of studying and a ton of effort to perform any task with magic, making a lot of it seem pointless. But here, with just a staff and no proper training, Esk figures out how to turn one of her brothers into a pig, and teleport her staff to her, and all sorts of other things. Of course, this isn’t some sort of CinemaSins ding or anything. The priorities of the books have simply shifted. In a pure genre parody like The Color of Magic, it made sense to say that magic was actually kind of stupid and pointless. Here, being a wizard needs to be desirable, because Esk’s whole arc is about wanting to become a wizard

While Esk does do well with her witch lessons, eventually it becomes clear that she’s going to start figuring out how to use wizard magic with or without guidance, and Granny accepts that she can’t change Esk. After a bit of a journey in which they get separated and meet several side characters, Esk and Granny make their way to Unseen University. (While Rincewind is nowhere to be seen, the librarian who got turned into an orangutan in the last book is still around. He’s apparently refused to be turned back into a human and is happier this way.) Esk is humiliated by the wizards and turned down, but Granny manages to get Esk a job there as a housekeeper so that she might be able to pick up some magical knowledge while hanging around

In the climax, Esk uses her skills to save a fellow student she befriends named Simon from some eldritch horrors that wanted to take over his mind, and as a reward she’s named the first female wizard. But she realizes that being a wizard is kind of silly, and she and Simon go off to develop their own type of magic (which, if I’m understanding correctly, involves a good deal of Not Doing Magic). In the action of the climax, Granny also manages to show the head of the school that witches know a thing or two about magic as well, and is offered a position at the university (although it’s left unsaid whether or not she took it)

Overall, I really, really enjoyed this one. This was the first book in the series that felt like it took its characters and their problems seriously, writing them as people to empathize with instead of just vehicles for jokes. The gender-based conflict is simple, but effective. I really liked that Pratchett didn’t lean into Esk being Not Like Other Girls. She actually still quite likes the feminine witch magic, and uses those skills to her advantage. It’s just that she also wants to learn wizard magic. It’s not about one being better than the other, it’s about the gender divide being silly. The book shoots down the idea that there must be some fundamental physical or psychological difference between men and women that means they’re destined to excel in different fields, which is honestly a refreshing thing to read in a fantasy novel from over 30 years ago

While it might be a little convenient that the head wizard of the university was swayed to be less sexist so easily, I do think the ending struck a good balance. Sexism is ingrained into wizard culture, so he’s still got some biases against women, and he’s only considering letting a few women into the school to start. He’s taking baby steps. Some might see this as a failure because he only got a little better, but personally, I find this much more believable than if the book had ended with all the wizards deciding that witches were their equals and the school quickly achieving a 50/50 gender split

People don’t quite change like that overnight. But this book does still believe that people can change, challenge their preconceived biases, and become better. And I think that’s what really sets this book apart from the previous two. It’s the first glimmer of those humanist Discworld themes I’ve heard so much about

(Also I laughed every time a wizard said women couldn’t study as wizards because it was “against the lore”)

So yeah, good book. Very good book. Pratchett’s style is already rapidly evolving And next, it’s finally time... for the first Death novel. I couldn’t be more excited

[thisgirlhastales]

“Wayward Son” — Is There Peace When You Are Done?

What we have here is an essay of sorts: a loosely organized mishmash of thoughts and opinions. Disclaimer that this is highly subjective, as it is based on my own experiences and expectations going into this novel :)

And, naturally, many Wayward Son spoilers below the cut! If you haven’t read it yet and are planning to do so, please do not proceed further. If you’ve already read it or don’t care about spoilers, c’mon in! Ain’t nobody here but me!

First Thing: I thought the plot was cool — I loved seeing the characters again, loved seeing the different magical culture within the United States as compared to the UK; all the geographical variety and how that impacted magical abilities and politics, the creatures and the nature of magic as it applied to people who aren’t mages, the syntax, and Shepard. All of that was fascinating. It felt organic and real, even though our main dude, Shepard, did drop a few exposition bombs. I loved it all.

The magical creatures touch on something that I think all the main characters learn and re-learn (and may be symbolic of their issues as a whole): there is no one way to do or be magic. The word magician can apply to any creature who is or practices magic. The UK’s mages have an expansive but selective history. They do not acknowledge people like Lamb (see Nicodemus), even though they are technically part of their world. I wonder if the UK vampires have something like what the Las Vegas vampires do — i.e. ways to feed without killing, ways of living without standing out so much, a hierarchal structure, their own historical narrative, etc. 

Agatha coming into her own was fabulous, driving the plot with the vampires on her end; she wasn’t a character I enjoyed in the last book too much (I thought she was very real, even practical, she just didn’t appeal to me as a person), but in this? Loved her. And she figured out her own way to be, though there’s still a ways to go for her, I think …

There is no one way to be anything, and that’s a lesson everyone in this book needs to learn (and talk about with each other, please, please, please).

Second Thing: Dealing with Trauma — I do think this was what resonated most with me, as someone who likes it when things are not perfectly hunky-dory after severely traumatic events.

Simon is Not Dealing. He stopped going to his psychologist. He thinks about the Mage, but doesn’t fully process the impact of having killed him. He’s in mourning over his magic and the Mage and all of it, but he’s choosing to not digest it fully — every time he was happy on this road trip, I, like Baz, was thrilled, but I also knew that it was fleeting because he hadn’t really dealt with anything. The underlying cause of his depression and listlessness wasn’t being addressed. His bursts of anger, his heartbreak, his inability to let go of the wings … He goes back and forth a lot, as well, tormenting himself.

Baz is Not Dealing. Baz was suicidal in Carry On. Baz barely knows anything about vampires. He lives in fear of being a monster, and of being executed as one regardless of his actions. As much as I detest Lamb, he had knowledge: How to feed without killing your prey. How to live amongst people and blend in better. He looked physically healthier. Baz’s grey complexion is actually a sign that he is starving more often than not. Remember how powerful he is now, and imagine how powerful he could be if he took better care of himself. And how much more comfortable in his own skin he’d be, which would help with so many of his bitter self-recriminations.

Penny is Not Dealing. Wow, that break-up with Micah was rough. She has a few more moments of self-realization than Simon and Baz do, but she’s also completely caught up in her own magical world, culture, and plans for the future; she has trouble reconciling what Shepard tells her, and is still processing (accepting? Healing?) from not only that breakup, but everything else that has ever happened to her and Simon. Penny copes better, but still not necessarily well. Her can-do, will-do attitude is a huge boon, but when it fails? Yikes. I rather feel like she had overly-rationalized (maybe even over-simplified) every trauma she went through with Simon, and … the world isn’t rational or simple at the best of times. I really, really hope she can come to terms with that (and that we get to see it).

Simon and Baz Together Are Not Dealing. It goes without saying that these two NEED to talk. But their separate issues are a huge roadblock — I feel like the chances of misunderstandings occurring are high. Each is convinced that they are bad for the other. Baz is slightly better about it, but he’s so afraid of the consequences of broaching the subject, he simply won’t. And the thing is? His instincts aren’t wrong. Simon does want to break up with him. It’s based on the whole you deserve better than me assumption, but Baz is actually sensing correctly that Simon is on the verge of leaving him. They need to deal with their own, separate traumas, and they can do that together or apart, but they need to start healing in some capacity. I fully believe that they can be together, even with a break, but that break needs to come with communication? Point being, we all go through healthy and unhealthy periods, as individuals, as part of a family, as part of a couple. They are right smack dab in the middle of a rough, not-so-healthy part — however they cope with it, (TALKING AND LISTENING ARE MUSTS), we at least know that they love each other. Love alone is not enough, but it is a powerful, wonderful force in their corner.

The expansion on magic implies legion of ways in which to exist, and such is the case for coping with pain, sadness, regret, and all the other fun aspects of being humans who experience trauma in innumerable ways. Sometimes we choose things that are unhealthy as a stopgap, because we’re not ready for the work and pain that is healing. Y’all, healing sometimes is on par with the issues that made it necessary — in simpler terms, it can really, really suck at the start. Again, some of you may come from different perspectives, but this struck a chord with me. 

I definitely went in with the expectation that all the issues would be laid out, and then addressed … We got the first half in spades … Did not get the second, nope.

Third Thing: The structure of this book implied right from the start that things may be unresolved, but, er, it was still a bit hard to deal with — having an epilogue at the beginning and a prologue at the end implies to me that this second book is a launch point. The prologue at the end is the start for the next (hopefully larger) narrative. That makes Wayward Son something like a sprawling behind-the-scenes look into these characters before we launch into their following, more detailed story. 

But I didn’t feel too great about having been plunged so deeply into this ‘verse, only to not have a lifesaver tossed my way … Which is to say, it kept me breathless, and knowing that people survived allowed me a reprieve, but the core of this novel — the overall mental well-being of Simon, Baz, Penny, and Agatha — had me tight in its grip from the beginning and then just … kept right on squeezing at the end. Even tighter. 

I don’t mind a plot-based cliff-hanger, but the fact that all the emotional and character arcs were left hanging as well? I felt like I got a decent resolution, or partial conclusion, on a few plot points, but next to no resolution for the emotional and/or psychological arcs. That I have a lot more trouble accepting. Particularly when I’ve spent an entire book with characters forced to live in each other’s space, in close quarters, and still not communicating. I wanted to rip out every beautiful thought Simon and Baz had about each other and throw it in the other’s face. Because they were gorgeous and wonderful, and for all that they are currently fractured and bleeding, they so clearly want what is best for each other. They are (mostly) selfless in their love (with a few selfish foibles, but they made sense to me).

I was also rather … not happy with the fact we got no mention of Lucy, of Davy, of them being Simon’s parents. I’m really, desperately hoping we get that in the next chapter of this series.

The positive thing I can take away from this point is that when we get to the next book (and I know there will be one — my copy literally has a number 2 on the spine, which heavily implies series to me), we will be firmly grounded in what is facing these characters both internally and externally.

The biggest issue that lies ahead is COMMUNICATION. I know (I hope like hell) this will be addressed in the next book, but I craved it so, so badly in this. Not just for Simon and Baz but PENNY. They are all sitting on shifting sand foundations now — their worlds have been completely overturned, over and over again in the past year or so, and they haven’t found firm footing yet. When Micah broke up with Penny, I very much thought that was the kick off for a road trip filled with introspection and epiphanies and finally, lots of talking about said introspections and epiphanies — I got half my wish. The latter half, I suppose, will have to wait until the next novel. I didn’t expect all the character/emotional beats to be acknowledged and resolved, but at least some of them, with room for others to be resolved in the next story, so we would have more (and more room) to explore in that novel.

As a result, Wayward Son, for the many things I loved about it, didn’t feel like a complete story for me. It doesn’t stand on its own quite as well as Carry On did. Maybe when the third book comes out, I will retroactively love it more, but for now I’m just sort of … floating along, waiting for that lifesaver. It did, honestly, feel a bit like half of a story. Half a good story, fantastic even, but still … Half.

In addition to these thoughts I’ve shared, here’s where I’m coming from, as a reader — we all come at these books from different places, different life experiences and wants and expectations. 

One of my most formative reading experiences was Harry Potter. I read Harry Potter practically as it came out. I had to wait years between some of the books. By the time the last book arrived, the characters had matured about as much as I had. Because the middle books were so chunky and dense (and I loved them for it!), I was a little thrown off by how slim Deathly Hallows was in comparison, and that ultimately was reflected in my reading — it went by so quickly. While I loved it and sobbed all over the damn place, when I hit that epilogue … that’s the first time while reading that I did a full stop. All the pain and agony of that book, as quick as it had been, had been amazing, and it felt like it demanded some kind of … reflection and communication between the characters, and I thought after ten years of these books, we had a definite basis for an epilogue that could’ve added another third to this novel — maybe one that jumped through the years, showed us different characters at various stages of healing? Something involved and detailed to a degree.

Wayward Son had that rushed element to it … and I think part of that feeling was enhanced due to the lack of resolution to those character/emotional arcs — we were tumbling, running forward into a free fall and then were frozen right at that point before falling.

However, Wayward Son gives me more positive feelings than that epilogue in HP. Yes, it still feels incomplete, like half a story. But Wayward Son isn’t an end. Unlike Deathly Hallows, there is more to come, and that’s what I’m looking forward to most. It definitely has its flaws in my view, but I can reconcile them somewhat, as you’ve seen.

(There is also a whole thing involving the way these sorts of arcs would resolve in fanfiction versus the medium of a book intended for a broader audience, but that would be a whole other post, methinks. Let me know if you want me to discuss that, because I do have some thoughts on it, though they’re a little haphazard at the moment. Um. Assuming all this rambling isn’t wildly boring and/or awful for you.)

Final Thoughts: At the end of the day? I loved reading this book, even for all that I wanted to reach into the pages and knock the character’s heads together. I said, “Oh no!” out loud when I reached the end, but it was because I desperately wanted more right then and there. The fact that I want more means that, despite any flaws, I’m still on board for this universe and its characters — I still love all this magic, and this dragon boy and his vampire boyfriend :)

And now, 2000 plus words later, I am done, holy crap. If anyone actually made it to the bottom of this, thank you? Not too sure how coherent I was, but I hope some of this was of value to someone :) *many hugs*

Edit: Apparently I still had some things to say, so here is a sequel to this ramble — Simon and Baz Carrying On Like Wayward Sons.

[escapekissed]

rapunzel, eugene, lance & cass or: LATE NIGHTS UP EATING ICE CREAM WITH THE CASTLE STAFF

inspired by @irnmaidn @sunlightswallowed ‘S HCS, myself and you’re wrong about’s episodes on princess diana & marie antoinette

princesses have a specific line of duties, even in the tangled universe where it’s clear that princesses can become queens that rule all on their own, it’s shown several times in the series that rapunzel doesn’t measure up to the various royals rules on diplomacy and diplomatic events. the wigs and make-up and shoes that she hates are a part of the monarchy system of the seven kingdoms. even ingvar, with their warrior queen and princesses, follow the noble traditions of stuffy events. they fight and present themselves in their own way---but they still have long hair, they still are presentable and clean and beautiful and wear skirts. while the diplomatic events of balls and galas and multitude of silly holidays in this show let rapunzel do whatever she wants bc ariana and federick are just that cool, as princess, these events would according to tradition be princess rapunzel’s main duty, and impressing nobles at them and convincing them to invest in their economy and the monarchy thru showing off the local finery and being beautiful and charming, would be her upmost priority.

in other words, rapunzel is supposed to stay in corona. she’s supposed to wear fancy dresses and fancy shoes that belong to corona’s finest luxury goodspeople to support their businesses. she’s supposed to be seen around the castle by noble people, she’s supposed to show that she’s well-bred and compassionate while still being frivolous windowdressing. most royal girls go to finishing schools where they learn about dance and manners, not astronomy and engineering the way rapunzel did.

strategy and more intensive politics are reserved for men. rapunzel is just supposed to keep the people happy and distracted, keep the local tabloids going with stories about how good and kind and pretty she is. this is why frederick would probably feel well within his rights to keep the sunflower a secret from his wife and daughter, to keep his daughter locked in her room even though she’s fully of age.

so how would rapunzel cope with a life of going from being a witch’s perfect doll, locked in a tower, to never having but one soul in her life, to having a responsibility to be polite and knowledgeable about hundreds of ‘relatives’ and ‘investors’ and noblemen and women and traditions alike?

she copes by doing what rapunzel always does. she ignores the pomp and circumstance, and instead of paying attention to snooty people who would down on her, she makes friends with the kitchen staff, she holds baby’s hands, she is beloved by her people and everyone she meets. she makes friends with the misfits.

but while her parents seem fine with this for the most part, wanting her to be her own kind of princess... i think that rapunzel is afforded somewhat of a privilege to her privilege by them.

cass in comparison, is given the role of lady-in-waiting she does not want. that’s a lifetime role. rapunzel is under her charge in it---cass is SUPPOSED to be organizing all her outfits and helping her plan events---and rapunzel fails to do that, which HAS to be stressful for her.

eugene is given the role of ‘dating the princess’ which is not actually a title, as a matter of fact. his room is even smaller than cassandra’s, and he seems at constant odds with rapunzel’s parents, always waiting for romantic overtures from rapunzel to keep his place in the castle at all. remember: he was supposed to be EXECUTED before this, and is often placed in jails over the course of the show, which he can always get out of---but there has to be some residual trauma there.

lance ends up being the one in the show to do most of the guided tours of nobles around the castle---he and eugene are the ones who take the most care of the noble’s while rapunzel goes traveling, when they’re not ALL traveling and going on magical adventures.

while rapunzel is wonderful, she’s constantly at odds with the worlds around her and though she doesn’t seem to realize it---that effects her friends. the kitchen staff love her, babies love her, orphans love her---and she loves the whole world---but the people closest to her often get left in the dust or in the ‘roles’ she gives them to play.

rapunzel is forging her own path as princess. and that’s good! that’s good for women, that’s good for trans people, that’s good for her family. but also... it leaves her kingdoms at odds with the rest of the kingdoms when she leaves events for her friends, and it leaves her friends at odds with their own responsibilities when they’re left responsible for things she lets go.

and it all adds up to rapunzel kind of being. a deconstruction of manic pixie princesses. she doesn’t realize the effect she has on other people. she doesn’t realize when she’s made mistakes, annoyed people, or not been the ‘perfect self’ she assumes she’s being until it’s too late. she lets herself get angry at people, but when people don’t like her, she literally doesn’t understand it, as she has so little information and experiences with relationships besides gothel and what she’s read in books. and even when she’s angry---it’s out of anxiety over them not being perfect in the roles she’s assigned them, which are totally out of ends with the roles they’ve been assigned by nobility and the rest of the world

. cass is ‘best friend’ but she’s REALLY always lady-in-waiting for LIFE, a SERVANT. eugene is ‘boyfriend’ but he’s really WANTED CRIMINAL in every kingdom, a non-binary man who’d love to just relax and settle down with a princess in wonderful wealth, and pop out a few kids for the monarchy if she’s feelin’ it. 

even her parents---when they show a sign of popping out of the fairy tale life she’s imagined for them in her head in the episode where they lose their memory---she freaks out, she overreacts, and she does this about everything on every occasion, always relearning the same lesson that she HAS to accept her friends flaws.... but never absborbing it enough to not have to relearn that lesson in the next episode. and half the time, getting rewarded for ‘taking charge’ and ‘expecting more’ from people.

i love rapunzel. i think she’s amazing! but she’s kind of oblivious and naive while at the same time being a bossy know-it-all, which. i relate to immensely. but still! her flaws shouldn’t be ignored just bc she’s so loveable cute funny and nice to people!

she hurts people sometimes, and the way that she is and how she responds to her trauma and inexperience hurts people, and sometimes a smile doesn’t make that okay. she needs to communicate to the base of her issues, that people get attached to her whether she wants them to or not and that makes her RESPONSIBLE for their fates and their destinies. she can’t just go on a ‘fun adventure’ until she acknowledges this to the people she most cares about. ‘fun adventures’ are not what royalty is, and for the most part, they’re not what relationships based on royalty and leading people are about. until she gives up that responsibility, she’s kind of... always gonna be in unequal relationships with people. but the truth is she kind of has control issues and loves the attachments she has with people and people loving her and she doesn’t know what she’d do without ALL her friends.... she’s between a rock and a hard place.

[danetobelieve]

Lessons In Intent || Ricky and Winston

While Ricky had many things about his home that he liked, he had to admit that his absolute favorite place was his workshop. The guest house that he lived in had a two stall garage out back, but he’d never parked his truck in there, instead opting to renovate it into a place where he could come, blast music, and work on his craft. Recently however, he’d done some more renovating inside of it, condensing his stuff and clearing up about a third of the space for Winston to use. Since they’d started really claiming their magical ability for their own, Ricky had wanted them to have a spot for alchemy or whatever else they were trying, someplace safely away from the home they both lived in. He hardly noticed the lessening of his workspace however, as he had been completely and utterly consumed with his latest project. The fact that Remmy had solved his puzzle box so effortlessly and quickly had cut him in a deep deep part of his soul, and almost all of his spare creative energies were being channelled into making a new one, a better one, a harder one. Taking inspiration from several episodes of a podcast he’d been listening to, this newest design was founded on fractals, and the strange branching paths they took. A dodecahedron by general shape, it was the designs on the sides, laid in white and stained-black wood, that had to be shifted and manipulated to cause the complex locking mechanism to release itself, revealing the velvet lined interior. It had been weeks he’d been working on it, and with the sheaves upon sheaves of schematics drawn in his loving hand laid out in front of him, only about 30% of the actual assembly had been completed. It was his rabid focus, coupled with the loud music playing from the stereo behind him, that caused him to completely not notice Winston entering their shared creative space until he looked up through his curls, “oh hey dude! Sup?” 

When Ricky had suggested that Winston use the space in the workshop as their own, they had been skeptical. But they’d had a spare rig that they’d finally moved from their parents house that they wanted to set up and it gave them a good excuse to spend time with Ricky. Their lives were so full of supernatural shit now that Winston struggled to see their friend regularly. Hanging out adjacent to one another was interesting and after Winston set up that space that had been dedicated to them, they elected to spend time working on a small project. They had some questions about the extents to which enchanting could go, however it seemed to them that the main thing they had to master was the form of the spell. They started with something simple, a locking enchantment on a small cardboard box that would in theory mean that only Winston could open it. They were deep within the prep phase and ready to test out their first time attempting an enchantment. Honestly they weren’t hopeful that it would happen. After all their magic was unreliable at the very best of times and getting it to cooperate in doing something more complex then spontaneous combustion left Winston feeling somewhat skeptical at best. Entering the workshop, they nodded to Ricky. “Not much, just working on this thing.” They nodded towards the shoe box that they were carrying. It seemed prudent not to use anything of sentimental value until they got more competent. 

Winston was a particularly calming influence in Ricky’s life; the young mage/wizard/arcanist always seemed cool and collected during even the most stressful of times, and some of that rubbed off on Ricky, who could veer into the borderline manic without much difficulty. Setting down the tweezers he was using to place tiny pieces of wood onto a purely decorative panel for the box, Ricky took a moment to retie his errant hair back, brushing stray sawdust out of the dark curls as he looked across the workshop at Winston, “On a shoebox? Do you have a dead pet in there? I’m not necessarily against necromancy but it seems like thats some upper tier magic that maybe you shouldn’t fuck around with until you get the basics down. Like time magic, probably should steer clear of that too.” He consulted the plans in front of him as he resumed assembling the panel; this particular face of the twelve-sided figure inspired by the fractal nature of fern fronds. One hand held the tweezers idly as the other traced over the design, muttering measurements and courses of action to himself under his breath, switching from spanish to gaelic to english and back again as his mind plotted out his next moves. He didn’t understand the magic Winston worked but, it seemed to be working out for his friend and that was really all that Ricky cared about, “If you want different music on or need it turned down lemme know. I’ve got earbuds I can put in.”

“The shoebox isn’t actually going to be anything, actually. I just wanted to practice on something without potentially enchanting it into something which isn’t usable again.” Winston replied as they set it down. They’d carried a laptop and a stack of wires for various peripherals they were installing in their work space. Their place of work was still a work in progress but they were beginning to get things closer to the way that they wanted them. Pulling down a screen that they’d mounted on an old adjustable arm they’d borrowed from the scrap pile at the station. The amount of old tech that they were able to salvage from broken or old units was mind blowing and Winston already had several boxes of scrap in their room. “I’m planning on learning how to enchant things, seems to be a lot of adding runes to stuff and then imbuing it with power but I’d be interested in looking at the potential power sources that could be involved and what that would change for the enchantment. But that’s all very theoretical because until I have been able to set up the enchantment, which I haven’t been able to do. The theory of it all is fascinating but actually getting it to work in real life has been more difficult.” Their magic was either feast or famine. They were either setting giant crabs on fire or they were struggling to cause flames to burst into existence. “You’re good dude, the music is fine. Although I think that chronomancy and necromancy are definitely beyond my scope and not something I want to fuck with.”

It had become very evident very early on in their friendship that Ricky and Winston’s minds worked in incredibly different ways, and listening to them talk about magic really drove that point home. Whereas Ricky’s mind dealt mainly in abstracts, thoughts ebbing and flowing as randomly and ephemerally as the waves that had birthed him, Winston’s was sharp and regimented, a cascading series of logical statements and hypotheses that marched onward toward practical solutions. It had never been a point of contention between the two of them, however. In fact Ricky thought that if anything it made them function better together, able to see various parts of problems the other’s mind didn’t arrive at naturally. “Well… that sounds complicated as fuck my dude. But…” the last piece of the panel slid softly into place, gentle susurration of wood on wood marking its arrival, and Ricky gently and carefully set it in front of a neatly labeled placard for the glue to dry before he varnished it, “It also sounds like you’re getting more confident in it all. Couple of weeks ago you didn’t believe your magic existed, let alone be able to spout magical theory like that. You’re coming a long ass way.” Picking up the next page of the schematic he started carefully pulling pieces towards him, humming under his breath as he did. “Work still going well?”

The separation of personality between Ricky and Winston had always had different ways of approaching the problem. They’d gone looking for roommates and found each other. At first there had been some conflict and disagreement as there was in any relationship such as theirs but they had worked through most of it and had found that they were able to live successfully in harmony. They’d learned their habits and moods, when someone needed company and when they just needed to be left alone. “Magic is complicated as fuck,” Winston still felt wildly out of their depth, they’d barely covered the rudimentary fundamentals since they’d began reading up on magic and though they had a basic understand of the core knowledge that they required they were yet to be truly an expert, “although I have made a lot of progress and I understand more, there is more then I would ever be able to cover and I’m quickly running out of resources that I can use to actually learn stuff.” They knew what world they lived in now and now that they did know they found themselves wanting to know more. “It might be new but it is fascinating, I can’t believe that I was ignorant for so long…” they trailed off and shrugged. “Works fine, it’s boring and honestly doesn’t seem valuable when I could be back here. But I still want to help people and this is how I would be able to do that, so gotta keep going.”

Ricky carefully set the tiny wooden gear he was carving before he allowed himself to laugh, “I think that might be the understatement of the century, my dude. Magic seems CRAZY complicated… and I am literally an animal that is sometimes a person. Your shit makes my shit look simple.” He resumed his work, leaning over the table-mounted magnifier that allowed even him, with his terrible vision, to do the tiny minute work this project required. “I’m crazy proud of you dude,” he kept his voice low, willing himself not to breathe too heavily as he talked, “I’m sure when you exhaust your resources here, there’re other places you can get stuff from. I’m sure there’s some like… dark web for magi. Mages? Spellsluts? I dunno what you magically self-identify as.” The music continued on around them as they both worked and as he set down the finished gear, Ricky picked up another piece of wood, its future form sketched on it in pencil, “Well I mean don’t be too hard on yourself, dude. A lot of the not-normal parts of White Crest work pretty hard to keep ourselves under wraps. You probs had to have some like… magical coming of age before you could even be ready to see the stuff that’s lurking behind the scenes here.” His hardened look of concentration softened slightly into a fraction of a smile as Winston kept talking, it was one of the many things that bonded them together, the need to help people and do good, “Life isn’t all magic and monsters. You gotta leave time for the normal stuff too. The helping people stuff.” 

“Magic is crazy complicated but it seems to be so inherent within our world now that I wonder if perhaps there have been examples of scientific observation that is actually just magic,” Winston replied quietly before shrugging, “Is shapeshifting not magic in someway?” They weren’t really expecting an answer but it didn’t exactly seem like it was a natural thing that had evolved. Though Winston was far from sure about that. Ricky's admission of pride made Winston feel happy, they hadn’t heard it like that before and a smile dragged across their face. “Thanks dude, I am crazy proud of you too, I know this has all been … something.” Skylar, magic, cursed chests on a beach, it was all a lot for them to deal with and Ricky has led the charge. “Exactly, I get the impression that we live in an area that has a lot to offer for this sort of thing and I guess I’d just call myself a spell caster for now. Though a spellslut is a good one.” They considered their past ignorance and shrugged. “It’s whatever, I don’t understand how anyone can live in denial about these things after having their first encounter with it, that makes no sense to me, if you’ve had a brush with this then how could you deny it?” Setting the box down, Winston began working on the enchanting circle that they would need to draw before they could do their magic. It was precise work but they had spent a long time practicing it. “Sure, but it is the magic and monsters that I find interesting…” 

“It is, and I’m there’s a lot of overlap between science and magic in ways that we don’t necessarily expect.” Ricky sent the small piece of wood down on the bench, replacing the thin file he’d been using to grind its teeth back in its spot on his tool tray, more engrossed in the conversation than the carving, “Oh it’s absolutely magic. But it’s…. Sorta a loose kind of magic? Like. It happens. It’s a thing. One moment there’s a man, the next there’s a seal, and the sort of in between is less regimented than some other kinds of magic I think. But yet it’s totes magic. Just… involuntary magic. Or at least it’s magic that exists in a way that encompasses me so fully it at least appears involuntary.” Pushing himself back from his work table he moseyed over to the electric kettle and flipped it on, dragging a mug down from the shelf, “You want some tea?” He shrugged as he listened to the water start to heat up, “Denial is a powerful thing,” an unmistakable air of bitterness crept into his voice, “Just look at Skylar. Demonstrably not a human, knows the solution to her problems, refuses to accept that or the fact that she has agency in the level of misery in her life.” Ricky idly watched as Winston started to draw something, that he assumed was in some way tied to the magic he was trying to work on a shoebox of all things, “They are interesting. You know, up until you’re cursed for a month or something wrecks your dining room or a hunter tries to kill you. But. I definitely think just plain old human life would be way too boring for me.” 

“I’m starting to see that a lot in everything that I read, this exchange of energy for magic is interesting, I wonder if it could be harnessed differently.” Winston was thinking out loud, they weren’t expecting an answer yet. There was a lot of hardwork that they still needed to do. “Nah I’m good man,” they said as they looked up at their friend. They moved the marker that they were using in a specific motion, marking the box in the way that they had memorised. “I wonder how that came about,” they said generally curious, “this is all so cool, is it evolution, was it magical, was it a mixture of the two, I doubt we’ll ever actually know but even the possibilities are completely fascinating.” They considered Skylar’s situation quietly, frowning to themselves and shifting somewhat uncomfortably at Ricky’s words. They knew that they were right, but that didn’t make it any less of a bitter pill to swallow. “I hope that she works it out, I’m getting really scared for her.” They paused for a second and gazed at their shoes. “Well, I don’t want to condemn or deny anything here, but I don’t think I would want to go back to not knowing. This is a world with so much potential and it’s almost being wasted by all these people who are too ignorant to engage with it.” 

As the kettle whistled, Ricky turned it off and filled his mug, plopping a tea bag in before moving back to his bench. “I think it’s one of those things where, if there was a distinct point where magic infected or changed evolution, it’s so far in the past and so buried in myth that short of legit time travel or oracular vision you’ll never find the clear point of separation. But it would be interesting, to know exactly how things like me came into being.” He pulled a trap full of tiny and well-labeled gears towards him, and set the schematic where he could easily read it. He’d checked a ton of books on locksmithing and clockwork out from the library, some of which they’d had to call in from other branches, and had given himself a series of progressively worse headaches trying to comprehend everything in them, but they’d all come together to make what he hoped was a diagram on paper that could be accurately mimicked in reality. “Mmmm.” he made a non-commital noise at Winston’s comments, retying his hair before bending to his intricate work, “Well. Me too. But also. Not my problem anymore. I tried being nice and supportive, I tried forcing her hand. She’ll figure it out or she’ll die and nothing I do will change that those are the only two outcomes.” He didn’t have the mental capacity to respond to the tail end of Winston’s comments, as he was entirely and wholly focused on the work of assembling one of the locking portions of the box, “Those people are dumb and will be purged by their own idiocy.”

Honestly, looking back at this with the blessing of hindsight, Winston would realise that things could’ve been left for a minute. Starting a semi complex incantation to enchant something, especially for the first time was a questionable move when you took into consideration the fact that Skylar might well play on their emotions. But they shrugged at Ricky and sat down in front of the box, shutting their eyes and slowly beginning to try and draw upon the well of power that they knew lived inside of them. They slowly and carefully began to chant in Latin, the incantation they had found was originally written in Latin and they’d spent all of their time committing it perfectly to memory. The tune that they had drawn onto the box began to glow faintly as they chanted and though they didn’t realise it at the time, the mixture of emotional turmoil at what could potentially be happening to their friend Skylar and what was some poor Latin pronunciation was enough to send things wrong. The rune glowed brightly and arch’s of arcane energy sparked from its surface. “Uh, Ricky,” Winston said having stopped chanting, “I might have fucked up.” 

Up until this moment, Ricky would have never known that magic had a smell. But it was there, over the smell of sawdust and wood varnish; acrid and ozone and pervasive. He hadn’t really been paying attention when Winston had started chanting, too engrossed in the minute trickery of his own projects. It wasn’t until that smell filled his sensitive nose and he heard them stop chanting that he noticed something was wrong. “Fucked up… how…?” He haltingly got up from his workbench, unable to look at the shoebox across the room, with how blindingly the arcane light sparked and flew off it. “That seems… very very bright. For a shoebox. Is uh…. is it dangerous?” It wasn’t long until Ricky had to press his hand to his eyes, the light too bright, stepping in front of Winston to shield them from… whatever might be about to happen. He could feel the light as an almost physical force, the magic pressing in on and against him and as it rose to a crescendo there was a brief moment where he wondered if he was about to die in a magical accident. Then. As suddenly as it had started it was finished, the room nearly pitch black after the incandescence Of magic gone wrong. “Win?”

“I don’t know how I fucked up, but it definitely is not meant to look anything like that,” Winston replied as they tried to draw the power back into themselves before realising that it was too far gone and whatever happened and they weren’t going to stop it right now. A bolt of arcane energy struck the panels of Ricky’s box and then the light exploded into the room and Winston was knocked off of their feet. Blinking, they managed to get rid of the spots on their eye and saw that the garage that they were in had been entirely encased with the various surfaces of Ricky’s puzzle box. “Uh, this apparently is how I’ve fucked up, I was just trying to put a locking enchantment on the box and it must’ve done something drastically wrong. Winston felt weak. Very weak. As if a good portion of their energy had been sucked from their body. 

“Okay I didn’t want to say anything because I don’t know shit about magic but that definitely didn’t seem like what you were trying to do.” Ricky reached down to offer his hand to Winston to help them up before he looked around at what…. He assumed… was still the garage. “Oh fuck.” Ricky didn’t see the carefully organized shelves and supplies that he was so proud of, instead he saw intricately carved pieces of wood arranged in a hauntingly familiar fractal pattern, and above where the door outside should have been was instead a very familiar set of initials; an R and C carved to look like a stylized wave. “So. Uh. Magic is uh…. About intent? Did I hear that somewhere? Maybe? Does uh… does it have to be your intent? Because… I might have been really fucking focused on the box. Like super focused on the box. Which… might be… why it looks like… the box maybe ate the garage? Or something like that. Either way. We might be in trouble. You’re smart right?”

Winston laughed. “Dude what gave it away that that wasn’t what I wanted to do…” they shook their head as they looked around them, “was it the flash of arcane light or the fact that I’ve turned our workshop into a giant version of your box… this is why you don’t fuck around with magic and I really should have known better but instead I fucked around with it, fuck fuck fuck fuck.” They looked around and moved over to the wall, placing their palms on the smooth surface of the wood. It was soft and well crafted beneath their touch. This was definitely something new. “Magic is definitely about intent and if you’re intent was to make a box and my intent was to lock that box then I am a little worried that we might well just be fucking locked in here,” they looked around the room, no doors or windows or even seams for them to pry open, “so we’ve got to find out a way out of a locked puzzle box.” They were well and truly fucked. They were going to die in here. Sweat beaded on their brow and Winston forced themselves to remain calm. They had to breath. There was a way out of here they just had to find it. “I am definitely not smart.” They looked around, what did they have to work with? 

“To be honest it was the blinding light and the almost 100% assuredness that I was going to die in a magical explosion. That pretty much made me confident that wasn’t your intended use of the spell. I’m pretty confident in the assessment that you don’t want to kill me.” Ricky scratched the back of his neck as he wandered around what was once his workshop. Whatever the spell had done with his box it hadn’t made a perfect copy. That would have been easy enough to solve; he’d spent so long drawing up the plans he could solve his own box in his sleep. But it had at the very least seemed to take the spirit of his box and transfer it into the prison cell they were now locked in “well I’m dumb as a box of bricks. So. That’s not great. But…” he trailed off a little as he looked at the walls, “okay okay okay. So. The original plan. Was about conversion. Take the original design and convert it in order of ascending scale into a different one.” Furrowing his brow he waved his hands around as he tried to explain. “I read a lot of books about fractals and clockwork and locksmithing in the last couple weeks. We just have to figure out what is the base pattern of the new design and that’s a good starting point.”

“I’ll be honest, there’s no way to know we aren’t dead but I plan to continue operating under the assumption I am still living until I know better.” Winston was starting to wonder if it was really safe for them to continue experimenting with magic in the house, they doubted that they had actually taken the proper precautions and if they made it out of this it was important that they took more steps to make sure that something like this didn’t happen again. “I don’t want to kill either of us if that makes you feel any better but of course there is apparently a limit to what I can handle.” They gazed at the array of shapes on the walls around them, they were trying to work out the shape from the lines facing everywhere. “Okay, so we solve the pattern, do you have any idea what the pattern might be?”

“Well… I’ve just been operating under the assumption that because I still have… you know… rational thought and understanding, we’re alive. I don’t believe in any sort of afterlife. But. I could be entirely talking out of my ass.. Because I’ve also never been magically bound in a facsimile of one of my projects before. So. brand new territory all around.” Ricky wandered around the border of the workshop, running his hands over the polished wooden pieces. “It would have been easier if your spell had directly copied my box. That would have been fine. But it just sorta picked up the vibe and went with it.” He pulled a piece of charcoal from a table and drew a box around a section of wood, “This looks like the fractal base. What all my schematics referred to as Pattern Prime. Original plan had three steps. Pattern Prime turns into Pattern Alpha, Pattern Alpha turns a larger section of the box into Pattern Beta, Pattern Beta turns a larger section of the box into Pattern Gamma, and then Pattern Gamma locks into the other panels of the box to finally make Pattern Omega. Only six of the twelve panels actually had moving pieces that connected to gears. The others were dummy panels meant to throw Remmy off the scent. So… yeah. That’s where we’re at with this. I mean I have axes in here. But somehow I think that’ll make it worse.” 

“Plato had a theory that when we die we as humans ascend to a plane of rationality and understanding, maybe we died and went there.” Winston wasn’t trying to be morbid. They didn’t really think that they were dead. But this situation was one of the more absurd ones that they had found themselves in. They couldn’t imagine the level of energy that it must have required for them to make this happen, even if it were accidental. They already felt exhausted. But they knew that it was possible that to resolve this they would have to expend more. Maybe they would have to start carrying an energy bar with them at all time in case they accidentally went too hard with the magic again. “It would have been easier if I could handle the most basic enchantments without locking us within a modified version of your puzzle box,” Winston was frustrated, apparently it didn’t matter what they did to learn they still were far from in control of their magic and there were very real consequences for their actions, “but also know I am judging you for calling them Pattern Prime, Alpha, Beta, Gamma and Omega. Wouldn’t it have been easier to call them pattern one, two, three, four or five?” They smiled gently despite the situation. “I wouldn’t advise axes either, I would like to keep as much of this intact because I don’t know what damaging an incorrect enchantment might do…” they shuddered to think, “Do you think that the actual mechanism could’ve been applied to this?” There was no physical mechanism in their garage normally.

“I’m sorry you’re gonna judge me for pattern prime and then sit here and Plato it up? You’re making it smell like nerd in here.” Ricky stuck his tongue out at his roommate and shrugged “that’s what some of the books called them so I just went with it. Also. I’m not human. So. I dunno if your Plato thing applies” seeing no other immediate recourse, Ricky wiped his charcoal covered fingers on a rag and set about making himself another cup of tea. “To be fair to you, dude, we don’t know how magic reacts to the presence of a non-human. I mean. I’m at least in some way magic, just not in any way with practical applications. That doesn’t seem like it’s setting up a good controlled environment for you to test your abilities in. You’re just starting out. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Looking around he idly bobbed the tea bag in his mug; sharp smell of citrus filling the air. “I mean. Confinement aside. This is honestly super fucking impressive. You turned a whole building into a magical prison! That’s awesome! If we weren’t inside it would be more awesome but hey. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Carrying his mug he moved to a section of the wall, pressing his ear against it as he attempted to slide a bit of paneling. “It doesn’t sound like there are gears behind it. This might just be a purely visual lock”

A wry smile danced its way across Winston’s face. “Yes that is exactly what I am going to do and if you have a problem with the stench of intellect then I can’t help you because that isn’t me.” At least they could still have a good time even if they were potentially going to die in this room. They looked at Ricky and nodded. “That is a very good point, I forgot that you were a seal, you look remarkably human for a seal you know that?” They looked around the room. They knew that Ricky was trying to make them feel a bit better by offering them the possibility of a way out of responsibility but they didn’t think that they could blame this on them. “I don’t think that the presence of a non human would have really affected it, maybe it did, but it might as likely been a problem with concentration or an error in the enchantment that I physically drew onto the box.” They would have to design a template to ensure that this was mitigated as much as possible in the future. They looked around the room as more energy drained from them and pulled open one of their draws and pulling out a protein bar in an attempt to refuel with something that would battle the energy drain they were experiencing. Rubbing their eyes free of tiredness, Winston adjusted their lenses. “Impressive sure, concerning that I am capable of doing either barely anything or fundamentally changing the reality of a situation… this is not what I had meant to do and honestly the fact that it turned out like this is somewhat worrying, although at least we know that we can create something like this in case we need it.” They reached out and placed their palm on the wall, and took a step back as they were staggered by the experience they felt. “I can’t find physical gears, but there seem to magical like, lines, almost as if we could line them up like the original puzzle box…” they looked at the panel Ricky was examining. “Turn that ninety degrees, that way the line will line up with the panel to the left and right and then turn the panel above it 270 degrees and that will complete a shape.” 

“It’s certainly not me. I am a confirmed and notorious moron. Any stench of intellect therefore has to be coming from you.” Winking, Ricky took another sip of his tea, “well that’s the point isn’t it. That I look human. Have to confuse all you landlubbers. Hide in plain site and all of that.” Being trapped in a magical box that may or may not contain just their souls since they may or may not have been dead already was surprisingly relaxing since he was stuck there with Winston. “If I ever need a magical prison, which, given the concentration of Hunters in town I might, I’m going to come to you because this is impressive.” He put his hands where Winston indicated and made the directed changes, watching as the dark and pale wood morphed into a different pattern “okay now you do to the same thing on the panel over there by the belt sander. The way mine worked you have to do each transformation on each panel as a group. So they all get the final switch at the same time.” Now that Winston had figured out the base pattern they were meant to be changing on the walls, Ricky felt a lot better about their chances. He was definitely more useful in the action portions of a plan, and now that he had action to do he could finally be helpful, “see. You’re the smart one.”

“You know that you’re quite literally studying art..” Winston pointed out with a frown, “I know that you don’t think you’re an intellectual or anything but you’re smart. I can’t do half of the things that you can…” they shrugged gently and nodded, “you do a very convincing job of looking human and acting human…” they smiled, “I was fooled for a long time and I lived with you. In hindsight the signs were all there.” They laughed and shook their head. “I wouldn’t expect anything more like this from me, this is something that is way beyond me, entirely accidental, not what I wanted at all and I wouldn’t want to even attempt something like this without more guarantees, this trial and effort escape isn’t something I ever want to risk repeating.” Winston followed Ricky’s instructions and began rearranging the panels of the walls. It was good that Ricky was there to help them otherwise the actual practical application of the changing of the panels would’ve certainly escaped them for much longer then it had Ricky. With their help however they were able to make the prescribed changes. “I’m the one who can cast spells, it is a little different.”

“I’m plenty talented, don’t get me wrong. I’m an incredibly skilled craftsman, as evidenced at least in part by this fucking prison we’re in. This spell is a little bit both of us I think. But one of my students explained it in a super nerdy dungeons and dragons way once. I’ve got shit intelligence, but plenty of points in wisdom. I’m not book smart for damn sure. But. I’m intelligent in other ways.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh a little, “a lot of the supernatural is right there if you know what signs to look for. But.That’s the problem. Humans don’t know what to look for. So. It’s pretty easy for us to slip between the cracks” he vaulted a low bench to get to the other side of the shop and mimic the change they’d affected on the first two panels on a section half hidden behind a bookshelf. “Bah. That’s just you selling yourself short, draoi. It’s beyond you now. It’s accidental now. That does not mean it’ll be accidental or beyond you forever. You think I started out making boxes like this? Statues like that?” He gestured to the other side of the shop where a half-finished statue of icarus, wings melting as he fell, stood on a bench, “hours and hours and hours and hours of practice. Shitty duck after shitty duck until they became less shitty.” He stood on a bench to reach a higher portion of the wall, shifting and twisting panels until the second iteration of the design fell into place. “Mimic this on your wall. This is one of your shitty ducks. You just need to put in more hours. Don’t forget that you’re fundamentally altering the fabric of the universe. That’s gonna take some fucking practice.”

“Ricky, as much as this might amaze you, we don’t actually live within a dungeons and dragons game. Now I know that might indeed be somewhat mind blowing.” Winston laughed gently and shook their head. “I’m fucking with you, I think that you’re right. We don’t know what we’re looking for, but you guys seem to and that is where we compliment each other. But unfortunately I do think that you’re right and that this is an amalgamation of this stuff. A combination of both my magic and your magic too. Not necessarily in the most ta but it is still there.” They shrugged gently and sighed, feeling a little deflated. “I know that it is something that has to keep going, I know that it is something that is going to take time to learn, but I can see all of these amazing possibilities, I can see all of these amazing things and feats that I could be doing to help people and I can’t because I have only just found out about this.” They sometimes wished that they were like Penelope or Morgan, they both knew exactly what they were doing and how they were going to do it. Winston would give almost anything to have that kind of courage and confidence. 

“You know I really hope we’re not dead because this is a lot of sass to spend eternity with. If this was dnd I’d have some dope armor and as I currently don’t have dope armor I’m unfortunately very aware this isn’t a fun fantasy magical world.” Ricky looked at the walls, eyes following the patterns until he saw the crossroads he was looking for. Unfortunately they were nearly at the ceiling, which meant he was standing on his tiptoes on top of a workbench trying to shift the panels “you’ve got time dude. You’re 24. You’ve got years to get good and do all the amazing and helpful bits of magic you’re dreaming of. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be capable of it one day.” He jumped to get the last piece in place before clambering down and moving to the other side of the workshop to do the same on another panel. “Just use them as stretch goals. Some people keep pictures of what they want to look like on the mirror. You can just keep spell descriptions.” Finishing the panel he was working on he looked around the prison, “there should just be one more mutation. Then we find out if we’re dead or not!”

“I really hope that we’re not dead because I’ve yet to fulfil my dream of actually owning dope D&D armour,” Winston quipped back in reply, “not to mention that dying in a bizarro prison box realm isn’t exactly my idea of fun.” Nervously, Winston watched Ricky stretch as they adjusted the ceiling panels and did their best to help out. Their balance was much less adept then Ricky’s so they took it much slower. But they were determined to help. “I know, I know, everyone always says that there is time for everything but inherently isn’t that a lie, there won’t be time for everything. There’ll definitely be time for new magic don’t get me wrong, but what if I don’t get to do everything I want?” It had always been a fear. They didn’t want to leave White Crest but they also knew that if they stayed forever they might miss out on some stuff. Looking around them, Winston looked for the final thing that they would have to change. “Any idea what we’re looking for?” they said as they scanned the room through their glasses. 

“I made a joke to Deidre about having cool ass armor and now I have the distinct impression it’s gonna show up at our door one day. I think she has entirely too much disposable income on her hands.” Ricky couldn’t help but grin as he looked around the room to try to figure out the last set of steps to unlock their magical prison. “Hey. This was a bizarro prison realm house but we made it a bizarro prison realm home.” Ricky let his eyes drift out of focus slightly as he wandered the room, trying not to see the details but only focus on the big picture, “well that’s just part of being alive. Not even human. Just alive and mortal. The fear that you won’t have time to do all the things you want to do, accomplish all the goals you want to accomplish. But there’s really no way to plan or prep for the great vastness of possibilities that life is. You can’t prepare for every outcome. So. I guess you just do what you can and try not to regret anything else.” His strange erratic orbit of the room stopped abruptly as he saw what he was looking for. “There!” He pushed a stack of notebooks aside and started to rearrange the pattern on one of the walls “it’s gotta be that. Do that on your wall and I’ll get the third one and that should, fingers crossed, be the final pattern.”

“Deirdre is weird, I don’t know why she would have an excess of income but she is definitely the type of person to spend an absurd amount of money on something like armour, but i think that fae cultures — which is a phrase I NEVER thought that I would say — anyway fae cultures are kind of different to ours, which is why Deirdre is y'know Deirdre.” Winston had a knot in their stomach and was far from convinced that they weren’t dead. But this was their mess to clean up and they were determined to do it. At least that way they would know about the fate of their own mortality. “There is no one that I wish I could get stuck in bizarro realms with more then you.” 

Winston was kind of curious as to what was real and what was fiction. How did you actually tell these things apart? It wasn’t like there was an encyclopedia monster book or anything. Ricky seemed to have spotted something that he thought was important and Winston was quick to follow his instructions, slotting his part of the wall into the allotted spot that Ricky had suggested. “Okay, it is in place, now we have to do the third one right?” 

“Oh thank god you know about her. It’s getting really hard to keep track of who knows who is what. But yes. If I remember stories my mom told me about them, bestowing favors upon mere mortals… like me and you… in the form of spectacular armor is right up her alley, as a fae.” He cast his gaze around the room as Winston moved and changed the wall they were near to align the patterns into what Ricky hoped was the final and correct position, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in awhile, dude. I appreciate that. We’re bizarro prison realm buddies for… well… I sure as fuck hope not for life but for as long as it takes to get out of there.” Finding the last spot on the wall behind a bench, Ricky dragged the heavy set of shelves laboriously out of the way, fingers shaking slightly as he moved the wall into the final piece of the puzzle. As the last piece slid into place he heard, and felt in the pit of his chest, a click, and turned to see exactly what he had hoped for; a panel sliding back onto itself, revealing a button on the wall roughly where the door should have been, “That… should, and I”m really going out on a hopeful limb here, be the button to unlock this enchantment. We did everything like the box operates, and it revealed a button like the box does. So. It’s your spell dude… you wanna do the honors?”

“Honestly, I know exactly what you mean, the number of times I’ve almost ‘outted’ someone in a supernatural sense is ridiculous. And it’s not like you can act as if you know or it’s a normal thing because then all the normies will get their pitchforks and torches out and I can’t be bothered with a literal witch hunt.” Winston laughed at their own comment before continuing their train of thought. “Though I will admit that I’m hopeful for the armour, for your sake. Not that you’d ever use it. It’d be good furniture.” Winston turned and looked at Ricky before shrugging. “I mean it dude, I don’t know that there are many people that I would happily keep living with, ironically you being a seal hasn’t really changed that.” Looking as Ricky activated the next section, Winston was amazed as a panel of the wall slid backwards and revealed a button. “Well,” Winston replied swallowing nervously, “I guess here goes nothing.” They took a step forward and pressed the button on the wall, watching it compress and click into place and nervously waiting for their potential and inevitable death as the room was enveloped in a bright magic light.

“God I know exactly what you mean. I’m always just like… oh god…. Who knows what. I feel like I need a super complicated spreadsheet just to try to keep track of who knows what identity, my own included.” Ricky beamed over at his roommate, “Oh come on man. You know I would wear that shit all the time at home. Making brunch? Wearing my armor. Sorting the mail? Wearing the armor. Vacuuming? Wearing the armor.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head, “At least with a seal man hybrid I’m not leaving fish guts around. I’ve got some human sensibilities.” Ricky would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t shaking a little as Winston approached the button and pressed it, another blinding flash of magic he could feel in his bones filling his field of vision as he hoped the spell that bound them in the garage was unravelling. When the bright light faded he was overjoyed to see the garage back to its normal state, and the door showed the trees outside the garage, “FUCK YES!!!!” He shouted, vaulting a table and throwing the door open, “We’re not dead!! We solved the puzzle spell and we’re not fucking dead!!!!”

“I’ve just resorted to always being incredibly vague and hoping that I never say anything that needs too much explaining. It’s like living a million falsehoods all at once and not knowing which one you have to resort to next.” Winston was pleased that they weren’t the only one struggling with it. “That seems like it would be incredibly inconvenient and potentially uncomfortable to be constantly wearing a suit of armour. Especially whilst vacuuming.” They paused and shrugged. “I can deal.” Winston blinked several times at the light as it enveloped them and then as quickly as it had come it was gone. Winston stood there for a moment, dazed and confused by the entire situation. Then they realised that they had made it and for the moment were in fact very much alive. Sighing a very deep relief, Winston slumped backwards into their desk chair and grinned. “Ahaha!” they hooted with glee, “Fuck dude we actually solved it, I don’t think your puzzle box is hard enough dude.” They grinned and looked at the very mundane shoe box that they had failed to enchant, pulling their glasses off and rubbing their eyes exhaustedly. “I think I’m done with enchanting shit for today.” 

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 120 Thoughts

A Fleeting Moment.

You blinked and missed it.

Is there some sort of deadline that I am unaware of? Because I think this is the second chapter in a row that reads so YOLO that it carries the desperation of a death soon at hand.

Yes, that’s right.

This chapter.

Is a Zekesona.

Maybe it’s because I’m a heartless monster, but my predominant thought throughout this chapter--well, fine, we’re getting to the real one later, but mostly my thought was wow, we’re really just diving straight in to the plot magic.

I’m not going to stop calling it plot magic.

Starting out it might have been a deliberate attempt to avoid the grammar of all things Paths, but at this point... it’s here to make the plot go. Sense is optional.

.

.

Zeke, you’re fucking killing me.

I.

Let me. just.

Let me attempt to form words with my fingers. Or my head. Or anything at all. This chapter has beaten me. I read it, I consumed the information, and so help me, I think if I let myself, I would never stop laughing over this.

It’s not funny, it’s just.

This, as we have here, is the pinnacle of everything wrong with letting the Yeager Bros take the wheel of a car that is not only missing seat belts and brakes, but perhaps also a functioning wheel.

In the world that is still sort of maybe occupied by sanity, there’s. Zeke.

Holding his brother’s decapitated head.

While he and his brother have an extended Inception dream sequence to manage the fact that Eren should really be very dead.

Really, I could probably spare a few minutes on that, but I don’t want to, because the logistics of how dead Eren is, exactly, when years have to pass in the plot magic in the seconds it’s been since his head was shot off--

I feel like someone shot my head off.

So okay.

A dream level up, the fight goes on in excruciating slowmo.

Meanwhile, Zeke and Eren are.

Okay, yeah, can’t do it. Nope.

This is not a criticism of the writing, as of right now. Like, I have my severe hysteria because of course Zeke has spent his Inception time growing to surpass the chains the First King adorned himself with, and of course, for some unholy reason, those chains bind Zeke at all despite him rightly pointing out he’s not of the Reiss branch and Zeke not actually being the Founding Titan.

Those are things I am noting, and I am completely failing to have a reaction to them because my entire jaw is in pain from holding back laughter, but that is not my present comment.

My present comment.

Is that these two are fucking morons.

I do not mean that disrespectfully. I mean it with the full sincerity of someone who is absolutely okay with the text making them fucking morons.

But holy damn fuck these kids do not have a clue what they’re doing.

Zeke first meets Ymir Fritz when he nearly dies in an unexpected near-incidental suicide. That’s when he has his first hands-on experience with Paths.

Sorry, plot magic.

So um.

Both Eren and Zeke plan to finally make use of the Founder’s power by showing up at this place. They don’t know that at the time they make their plan, because it’s still new to them, they just know that they’re going to hold hands and stuff and somehow things will happen.

Eren thinks the things Zeke wants to happen are bullshit.

Shocking.

Zeke thinks the things Eren wants to happen are bullshit, despite having no clue what those things even are.

Shocking.

And like.

Neither one is getting what they want, because Eren can’t actually use the power he’s journeyed all this way to get, because if this were a real anime, Zeke would have pink hair of warning. Zeke’s royal blood matters more than Eren having the Titan.

Sort of.

Zeke can dismantle the chains on the Founding Titan that attach to him for some reason, but Eren seems to still be required to pull the trigger. (ETA)

So if Inception-verse did not exist, Eren would have just gotten whatever it is he’s after, which would be bad for Zeke by measure of it not being what Zeke wants, but because Inception-verse does exist, they have all the time in the world, Zeke has the means to get what he wants, only technically he doesn’t really because he still needs Eren to agree with him and that hasn’t happened yet.

All of this work.

All...

Good fucking what.

ALL OF THOSE DEAD BODIES, BOYS, AND NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS JACK SHIT TO SHOW FOR IT.

SOMEHOW

BEYOND ALL COMPREHENSION

BOTH OF YOU ARE FAILING TO GET WHAT YOU WANT. BECAUSE OF THE VERY SIMPLE FACT THAT YOU NEVER TRULY BOTHERED TO UNDERSTAND THE PERSON OR THE POWER YOU WERE ASKING TO MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.

EREN MISUNDERSTANDS THE NATURE OF THE FOUNDER.

ZEKE MISUNDERSTANDS HIS BABY BROTHER.

BOY I’M SURE GLAD WE’VE SPENT THIRTY CHAPTERS ON THE CLUSTERFUCK OF YOUR MUTUAL DECISIONS JUST TO FIND OUT NEITHER ONE OF YOU HAS A FUCKING CLUE HOW TO MAKE ANY OF THIS WORK.

YOU BROKE THE WORLD, FULLY CONFIDENT IN YOUR DUCT TAPE, ONLY TO DISCOVER THAT THE ROLL YOU WERE HOLDING WAS SOME OTHER COLLECTION OF TAPE THAT SOMEONE GAVE A SILVER PAINT JOB.

THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T GIVE CHILDREN GUNS.

THEY SHOOT THINGS.

YOU INCOMPREHENSIBLY DUMB FUCKS.

Once more, this is not a criticism of the writing. I think it’s very fair for Zeke and Eren to be interacting with forces beyond their understanding, and screw it all up badly. In Eren’s case, that force is some weird demigod demon who possibly sold their soul to the devil. In Zeke’s case, it’s the will to live.

Both very confusing things. It is perfectly reasonable for them to be having difficulties.

-pre-corpses screaming in the background, only in slowmo because the moment of Eren’s head being blown off hasn’t actually passed-

-Falco steaming in the dirt-

-all Eren’s friends risking their lives so they might maybe use the Founding Titan to fix this all up-

You can tell Eren and Zeke have a doctor for a father, because their elaborate plan depending on thousands of years of history and starting international incidents fails in the face of basic common sense.

No, I’m not done.

These would be the people who would change the world.

Eren.

This is why, when you were ten, your mother was already telling another ten-year-old to look after you. BECAUSE SHE KNEW. SHE KNEW THIS IS WHAT YOU WOULD CHOOSE TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE.

LO, BEHOLD THE NEW UNDERSTANDING OF CARLA’S TEARS AS HER CHILDREN LEAVE HER TO HER DEATH.

IF ONLY EITHER OF YOU HAD A BRAIN.

I’m sorry, I know I should be making comments on other parts of the chapter, but this is all just so typical, and so blisteringly obvious an outcome, and.

Well, we got a lot of nice shots of Grisha and his family. Yay.

Plus--

Oh.

Fuck.

No no no no no, no, I don’t want that.

The thought occurred that this probably is one of the many functions of the plot magic’s oddness around people remembering things they shouldn’t, and blah blah blah Eren crying at the start of the series, but...

Grisha sees Zeke for a moment. Just a moment, but he taps into their link in the Paths.

If Mikasa goes back to watch the memory of Eren sleeping while he’s supposed to be collecting firewood, I have objections. I don’t know what they are, but there’s a visceral reaction of how dare you if that’s where this is all heading.

But you know, that’s for people who do things like speculation about things that aren’t related to people with the last name Reiss, so not my problem.

Anyway, the flashbacks are not a surprise. Grisha loves Eren. He makes his mistakes with Zeke, and comes to regret them terribly. He becomes a better man, and leaves his obsession behind to hold his new family.

This explains what happens the night he kills the Reiss family very well.

In that moment, he must have felt, so keenly, that this is all his fault. He walks away from the Founder. He leaves his mission. He leaves the power behind.

The walls fall, and in the hands of the Reisses, the Founder can do nothing to assist.

His wife dies.

The obsession returns, and Grisha’s last act is saddling Eren with all of his mistakes. Because he learned from his old ones, but he found that those lessons just destroyed the new life he comes to love. Grisha abandons his cause, and Carla dies. Eldians die. Marley creates more victims.

How many people suffer needlessly because Grisha hesitates?

That’s not a burden he takes to well, and the Grisha in these memories never wanted his last moments with Eren to be what they were. It’s one more piece to the insanity that took hold that night. One more tragedy.

When Kruger gives Grisha the Attack Titan, he tells Grisha to love someone inside the walls. The instruction becomes to make a family, but its root is in love. The important part is that Grisha loves someone. Otherwise, the cycle continues.

Grisha loves his sons. He abuses one and nearly ruins him, and takes the next and loves him properly. That’s the son who rejects the idea that they should all die. He’s been given a life that he understands has glory in even its beginning moments, and understands how horrendous it is that Zeke would remove generations of future moments.

The problem that continues, however, is one that I imagine we’ll be addressing with future flashback episodes.

Zeke loves his little brother. Until time allows otherwise, he takes it for granted that his precious little brother will see things his way. He needs so little convincing to bring Eren into the fold. Even before he knows how much control he truly has, he fully accepts Eren.

He doesn’t know Eren.

Eren knows Zeke, because the truth of Zeke’s heart is in this plan.

He knows Zeke, and doesn’t do anything with that knowledge.

Eren and Zeke use each other to reach this place, and in the end, their failure to be there for one another results in neither one being able to wield the power that their union creates.

There might be love there, but it’s the ruined kind Grisha bestows on Zeke. Control is what matters. Reaching the end is what matters.

“Your wife. You child. Even someone on the street. It does not matter. Love someone inside the walls. If you can’t, we’re doomed to repeat it all again. The same history. The same mistakes. Again and again.”

The mistake Eren and Zeke make is the opposite of the one their father chooses in this memory. He puts his love for his family over his mission.

Eren and Zeke prioritize their mission so deeply that they might as well be strangers, no matter how often they refer to each other as brothers. Of course it’s a disaster.

The audience has been waiting for Eren’s side of this story for years, because we’ve watched him grow up. We’ve watched him struggle and triumph and lose himself, and none of that was enough to establish the train of thought that led to these choices that Zeke is so proud of him for making, so it’s been a known thing to us that he’ll have some sort of eventual reveal (which we’re still waiting on; this chapter just does us the favor of confirming that we are waiting).

Zeke wants to confirm Eren’s mindset before they kick things off, since he has the luxury of time in this space.

He never bothers to confirm Eren’s thoughts out in the living world. Not actively. Eren lies, and Zeke lets it pass as enough.

These two never try to help each other. They use each other up.

Zeke can swear to be there for Eren, can swear to set him free, but he does not see who his brother is, and Eren, knowing exactly what kind of person Zeke is, chooses to ignore that in favor of playing the long con.

They fail.

They fail their family by failing to see them as such, and so fail every other task they sought to accomplish.

The story’s forcing them to deal with that now, since they have so much time, but it is so easy to see why this happens. They’re desperate, and they grab their lifelines, and they decide that if there’s something wrong, it can wait.

In the metaphor, that’s fine. They need to stop drowning.

But they see each other as a lifeline before they see each other as siblings.

Grisha sees Zeke as a tool before he sees him as a son.

The same mistakes, over and over.

Some more familiar than others.

We’ve reached the above thing.

What I’m referencing is that really, all through this chapter my only concrete thought was Eren looks a lot like Frieda. Naturally not greatly evident in the shot that’s actually relevant to why I’m bringing it up. Why should I get nice things.

Like. A lot. To the point where it starts to feel intentional, not the result of my brain linking everything back to the Reiss lands. Eren’s hair doesn’t part like Grisha’s or Carla’s, and conveniently we’ve got the comparisons readily available. He has Frieda’s. The young woman his father took the Founding Titan from.

After a long series of consensual (with heavy sarcastic quotes, yes, but putting that aside for the moment) sacrifices, Frieda and Eren are the first in recent history to have their consent overridden. Frieda’s ripped to pieces by Grisha, and has her family slaughtered by him. Hours later, understanding nothing of either Titan he’s inheriting, Eren takes up the mantle.

Eren first sees Frieda through her eyes, looking in a mirror, and I absolutely know I’m reading too much into this, but give me a sec of indulgence. I rarely get to talk about Frieda in these posts.

Frieda, the one who Eren really does look bizarrely like, is Zeke’s foil.

In the two shots above, we have an older half-sibling using their powers to convince their younger sibling to see the world they want them to.

Zeke’s having his difficulties, but Frieda has none.

Frieda has a loving relationship with her little sister, and touches her head to Historia’s gently.

Zeke bashes his head to Eren’s forcefully.

Frieda loves Historia. She has no reason but love to come and pay her visits. She helps her learn to read, she rides horses with her, and provides her company.

Historia has all those memories taken away. Their relationship only exists on Frieda’s terms until five years after Frieda’s death.

In an attempt to keep this post from turning into me shouting about how the Reiss family is symbolic of the manga as a whole, and Historia needs to come back and rightfully re-dethrone Eren as the main protagonist, I’ll be brief:

Frieda screws Historia up.

She adores her little sister, but in a world without Frieda, Historia is left with neglect and an overwhelming sense that no one wants her to be alive. Frieda routinely takes away the memories that prove that belief wrong. For complicated reasons that a teenager shouldn’t be expected to handle, but Historia’s problems are still actively exacerbated by Frieda forcing her will on Historia.

Eren has more say in what his brother’s trying to pull, thanks to his own plot magic, but we see the problem, with the same dynamic.

Zeke loves Eren.

He can’t see past his view of the world to see Eren well enough to try to do what’s best for Eren.

This is not a collaboration. It’s two people fiercely opposed who have put that argument off until the last possible second rather than approach one another as equals.

Eren’s head is blown off. He’s due to be dead.

Zeke is still trying to rescue him from his own free will.

Love without respect is useless. It’s what turns the emotion selfish.

Idiots.

I’m torn on what this chapter means for future chapters, because I don’t see how Eren and Zeke are moving past this roadblock without finally dealing with the issues that landed them here, aaaand theoretically that means that Eren’s plan wins.

I guess we get to look forward to what that means if that’s the case.

But Eren’s head is still kind of. Not. On his body.

Which makes me think that whatever decision makes it out of Inception, it’s probably going to be one that alters the reality they’re playing with, and that is really hard to do satisfyingly.

Those are problems for another month, though.

I have trouble calling this chapter good, because a lot of it is. well, what did you expect when you chose to do things like this? There’s some satisfaction in the fact that the characters are truly being respected as the numbskulls they’ve behaved as, but that does little to make the overall situation better.

Thankfully, emotional flashbacks pander to my needs directly, so this will be a satisfying trainwreck, but, uh.

Yeah.

Local siblings don’t listen to each other on family roadtrip down memory lane, feat. apocalypse in the background. That is the chapter.

It needs to be drawn as the Renaissance painting it clearly is in spirit.

[deactivated-wolfstar-blog-byee]

a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

This fic was written with love for @flaggermousseart​ for @wolfstar-secret-santa​! Enjoy! :D

Title: a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

Author: wolfstarbaby (fuutenfantasy on AO3)

Pairing: Wolfstar

Rating: T

Length: 6202 words

Summary: 

“James, Peter and Sirius manage to land themselves in detention the night of the full moon. Remus will be fine! He's done moons by himself before. Everything will be fine. Totally. 

Sirius is full of emotions and James can tell something is amiss. Remus is also full of emotions but better at hiding things. Will things work out for these star-crossed idiots? Read on to find out!”

Link to AO3 HERE

Fic under readmore!

a gentle hand, a secret touch on the heart

Remus was waiting for his friends for three hours, half-reading an old History of Magic textbook and staring into the fire, before the Portrait Hole finally slammed open. Sirius came storming in first, followed by James, and Peter came scrabbling in last, still complaining at top volume.

“-and you know Tulip’s had it out for us from the start! Totally unfair, is what it is.”

“We know, Peter,” moaned James wearily. “You’ve been on about it for the past ten minutes. Just shut it.”

Sirius threw himself onto the couch next to Remus, his eyes narrowed and and his arms folded. Remus closed his book and eyed his friend.

“I take it things did not go according to plan?” he quipped. Sirius just grunted. James flopped onto a nearby armchair and Peter stretched out in front of the blazing fire, both arms over his head. The other Gryffindors on the floor in front of the fire had to scoot out of his way, pulling books and wands closer to them with half-hearted grumbles.

“Things went great!” said Peter, voice muffled. “For the first ten minutes, anyway. We had the ravens stowed and the birdseed scattered.”

“It was going to be magnificent!” James interrupted, waving his arms about. “A perfectly timed series of events that would lead to old Tulip being absolutely covered in birdshit! I had everything planned. But then...” he sighed, running a hand through his already wild hair. “It all fell apart.”

“How so?” Remus asked, trying and failing to conceal his smile.

After a dramatic pause, Peter took his arms off his face. “Tulip came in early.”

“We still could have gotten away with it,” James complained, sinking down into the overstuffed lap of the armchair, “if Padfoot hadn’t been busy using birdseed to spell WANKER on Tulip’s desk!”

Remus let out a snort and put down his book. “Did you really? That’s a bit much, even for you, Sirius.” He patted Sirius on the arm. Sirius glowered and made cranky noises, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

“And from there he looked up and saw the ravens and it was all downhill.” Peter sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. “Yelled at us for two hours. I thought his heart was going to burst, the way his veins were pulsing.”

“Glad I gave this one a pass, then.” Remus rubbed his shoulder, grimacing. “Not by choice, mind you, but I suppose it worked out. Did you get away with just a bollocking or do you hooligans have detention now, too?”

“We all have four hours of detention,” muttered Sirius. He turned to look at Remus. “Saturday night, starting at 8.”

Remus felt his stomach drop. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Moony!” James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We argued with Tulip for ages but he wouldn’t budge, and it’s not like we could tell him why.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Remus automatically. “I’ve done plenty of moons without you lot before, I’ll survive this one too.” He stood up abruptly, stretching with some difficulty. “Let’s go to supper, I’m famished.”

The evening passed as many do at Hogwarts. Sirius came out of his funk by dessert and soon all the boys were laughing and bantering like normal, but Remus noticed that every time he winced at a pre-lunar ache Sirius glanced over, worried. They took their usual spots around the huge scarred wooden table in the common room and muttered over some homework, making more jokes than progress on their Transfiguration essays.

“I just don’t understand how we’re meant to explain a process we’ve never seen before!” Peter complained, scratching his forehead with his quill and leaving a streaky black line in its wake. “ ‘Explain in fine detail the technical process of turning a chicken into a cow, paying special attention to where the additional mass comes from.’ What does she want us to do with this?”

Remus, already halfway through with his outline, just chuckled. “It’s in the book, Peter. You have to read.”

“Sounds like too much work,” said James, closing his book with a decisive thump. “Right, lads. How’s my hair?”

Sirius ruffled it playfully, messing it up even more. “Now it’s perfect. Go get her, Prongsie.”

James eyed his target, squared his shoulders, and stood. “Wish me luck.”

He sauntered across the common room so he could attempt to flirt with Lily - by which he meant leaning on the back of her chair and joining whatever conversation she was a part of with loud commentary and inappropriate humor. This was met with eye rolling, ignoring, and the occasional artfully dodged hex. Eventually Peter went for a shower before bed and it was just Sirius and Remus at the table, sitting in a comfortable silence, the pretense of working long since given up.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself this Saturday?” Sirius asked softly. “I could skip detention and Padfoot could be there at least.”

Remus’s heart clenched. “Don’t skip out, Tulip will lose his mind and you’ll be in even worse trouble. I’ll be fine, I promise.” He smiled, fairly convincingly. “Come on, let’s rescue Lily from Prongs and head upstairs.”

Together they hauled James away from Lily and her friends, dragging him up the stairs by his elbows, and Remus tried his best not to notice every time he bumped into Sirius on the narrow staircase. He climbed into bed after a round of “good nights” and only when the curtains whisper shut around him did he allow himself the luxury of basking in the idea that Sirius’s concern meant anything more than platonic worry. He fell asleep imagining a world that could not be - a world with Sirius stroking his hair and whispering sweet words meant for him and him alone, chasing away the lingering curse of the moon with his quiet warmth.

~~~

Remus had been quietly pining for his best friend for what seemed like forever, but for what was realistically about two years. Before Hogwarts he’d kept to himself out of both necessity and choice - growing up on an isolated farm and being bitten by a werewolf are both life challenges that keep you from making many friends. It wasn’t until about halfway through his second year that Remus began to realize that he wasn’t interested in his female classmates the way the other boys were, and not until his third year that his heart was captured by Sirius.

It wasn’t anything dramatic or complicated - in fact, it was the simplest thing of all. It was, as most things were in Remus’s life, centered around the full moon. A rough transformation in December of their third year had left Remus in the Hospital Wing for longer than usual - nearly a week. He spent the first two days of that awful week unconscious, and didn’t wake up until nearly midnight on that Wednesday. The first thing he saw when he opened his puffy eyes was long black hair strewn across the end of his bed. There, softly illuminated in the candlelight, was Sirius, head pillowed on his arms, fast asleep at the end of Remus’s bed. As if on cue, Sirius turned his head and smiled sleepily at Remus, and that was that for Remus’s heart.

But this realization was followed almost immediately by the knowledge, the deep, certain, bones-deep truth of the fact that he could never act upon his feelings. Not once, not ever. Sirius was assuredly heterosexual, and also one of the most important people in Remus’s life. He wasn’t going to put years of friendship in jeopardy over the simple vagaries of his heart. No, best to push these feelings way down deep and pretend they weren’t there.

This decision came in a split second, and Remus was able to return Sirius’s smile with one of his own - even if it was a little forced at the corners. He could live with that.

~~~

It was the day before the full moon, which means Remus woke up with full body aches and a head that felt like it was underwater. He buried his head under the pillow and tried to ignore the slow-roasting coals in his knees and shoulders. His stomach curled and twisted, though, and it wasn’t long before he was up and in the bathroom, viciously ejecting the remnants of his dinner the night before. His ears were ringing and his headache was splitting - all in all, normal pre-lunar symptoms. He thought about making is way down to the Hospital Wing, but the idea of submitting himself to the fluttering and worrying of Madame Pomfrey was almost more than he could bear - besides, it’s not like she could cure what was really wrong. He resolved to spend the day in bed and pretend like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

He heard the rest of the boys surface to consciousness and rise to face the day, but the velvet curtains around his bed and the mountain of pillows he’d sunk his head into muffled everything. He thought he heard his name once or twice.

“-Remus doing okay?”

“-probably not going to lessons today, poor chap.”

“-him alone. Moon’s tomorrow, you know how it is.”

There was a rustle and a change in the light against his eyelids, so Remus cracked one eye open to see Sirius, his dark hair swinging around his face as he peered through the curtains. He was so close to Remus that the ends of his hair brushed ever so slightly against the boy’s cheek. The sun, well and truly up by now, poured in behind Sirius, the golden streams illuminating him and giving him an unearthly sort of glow. The light got tangled in his hair and brought depth to the blackness, little pockets of richness and color that weren’t usually visible. His eyes were brown and so soft as he looked at Remus. Remus choked a little as his heart clenched almost painfully from the unexpected loveliness of this sight. It took him a minute to realize Sirius was talking to him.

“-anything, mate?”

“I - what?”

“I said, would you like us to bring you any breakfast? We’re heading down now.”

His stomach clenched again at the thought of food. “No thank you - I wouldn’t be able to keep it down, anyway.”

“Fair enough.” Sirius hesitated, then pushed a hand through the curtains and rested it on Remus’s hair, stroking it gently. Remus felt his whole body stiffen in reaction as his brain short-circuited. Quickly, as if embarrassed, Sirius pulled his head and arm back through the curtains, and the sunshine disappeared. “Get some rest, we’ll bring you what you miss in class.”

It wasn’t until the dormitory door closed with a soft clatter that Remus had the presence of mind to call out, “Thank you!”

Soon enough the dormitory was empty, and the air sat silent and still. Remus wanted to lie there and dwell on the unexpected moment of tenderness from Sirius that morning, but his body had other ideas and soon he was asleep again, his brain running from the pain as best it knew how. He spent the day in and out of consciousness, drifting along like a soap bubble. He was vaguely aware of the other boys coming and going, leaving books and parchment on his bedside table, and he managed to rouse himself enough to drink the mug of soup one of them brought for his lunch around noon.

The afternoon brought less drowsiness but more pain. His shoulder and hip joints, as if in preparation for the next day’s miseries, felt tense and twisted. A gentle heating charm cast on a pillow helped a little bit, but not a lot. Again the thought of the Hospital Wing crossed his mind, but at this point it would have hurt more to drag himself down there than to stay in bed.

Besides, he was used to pain.

He felt a weight settle at the end of his bed, and looked up to see the messy black hair and dorky glasses of James. His friend smiled easily and patted his leg.

“Hanging in there, Moony?”

Remus shrugged. “Day before the moon. You know how it is.”

James winced sympathetically. “Need anything?”

“A cure for lycanthropy?” Remus quipped.

James laughed. “I’ll get right on it. You take care.” He deposited an armload of parchment scrolls onto the teetering pile next to Remus’s bed and waved as he headed out the door again.

Remus knew they were all in their afternoon classes for the next few hours, so he was duly surprised when a half hour or so later Sirius showed up again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Potions?” Remus remarked, pushing himself to a sitting position.

Sirius shrugged and sat down. “Told Slughorn I needed to bring you your assignments.” He waved a hand at a notebook slung onto the floor. “Didn’t want you to fall behind, and all that.”

“And he just… let you go?” Remus raised an eyebrow. “Decent of him. Odd, but decent.”

“Not that odd.” Sirius smiled. “Everyone knows you’re his second favorite, after Lily. You’re a genius with a cauldron, as he says.”

They fell silent after that, Sirius fiddling with a wrinkle in the duvet and Remus watching his hand while trying to seem like he wasn’t. Finally, Sirius looked up.

“Look, mate, are you sure you don’t want me to skive off this detention tomorrow?

I hate the thought of you being up in the Shack alone.”

Remus sighed. “As much as I want to say yes, I’m going to say no. I don’t want you getting in more trouble because of me. It’s fine, Pads - I’ve been alone before.”

“I know,” said Sirius, “but you shouldn’t have to be.”

“I’ll be okay, Sirius, I promise.” And before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “but I love that you asked.” Immediately he felt his cheeks and ears turned crimson and hastily looked down, pretending to smooth out wrinkles in the duvet. He didn’t notice Sirius looking at him. Eventually Sirius stood to go back to class.

“We’ll bring you something from dinner if you don’t make it down,” he called over his shoulder as he left the dormitory. “Get some more sleep!”

As soon as the door closed Remus threw himself painfully backwards and covered his face with a pillow.

It wasn’t even that revealing of a comment! He told himself. God, what a state I’m in, mention the word ‘love’ once and I act like an idiot.

Somewhere in between the self-admonishment and the lingering moon-pain, he did fall asleep again. He woke up once more to the sound of James and Peter bring him a plate from the Great Hall - beef, yorkshire pudding, carrots, and a slice of Black Forest Gateau, if his wolf-sensitive nose was correct. They were talking softly as they approached, so as to not wake him up.

“-acting weird all day.”

“I know, Pete, but you know he’s always weird where Remus is concerned.”

“I wish he’d sort his feelings out, this pining is exhausting to watch.”

Still lying down and in a sleep-fever haze, Remus kept very still and hastily closed his eyes when James pulled aside the curtain to peek in. The curtain twitched closed again and the soft conversation resumed.

“I swear, James, he doesn’t even know what’s going on inside his own head. He won’t admit it to himself.”

“Did you see his face when Remus tripped into his lap last weekend by the lake? I thought he was going to produce steam, his face was so red.”

“He’s an idiot, Prongs. He needs our help.”

“You’re right, Pete - they’ll never sort it out for themselves.”

Remus waited until they had both left the room before getting the dinner plate. The wolf was getting stronger, and he was ravenous. He puzzled over what he’d just heard and the implications therein. He knew what he wanted it to mean, but he couldn’t risk the danger of hope, no matter how much he wanted to believe. He devoured the dinner plate and, lacking anything else to do, pulled over some of the work from Charms and began to read. O.W.L.s were this year, and Remus would be damned if he let something as stupid as lycanthropy keep him from scoring well.

~~~

Saturday morning. Moonrise due at 2 pm.

The achiness had left Remus’s joints, but he was left with a horrid combination of exhaustion and nervous energy. He wanted to be moving around, itching to do something, but the weariness enveloping his whole being kept him from doing very much at all. He settled for sitting on the edge of his bed, twisting the blanket in his fingers and swinging his feet, just…….. Waiting.

He eyed the others. James was flat on his back, curtains wide open, snoring with his mouth askew. Peter was an indistinguishable lump underneath his blanket. But Sirius - Sirius was propped up on one elbow and watching him, face expressionless. When he noticed Remus staring at him, he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“The waiting is hard, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

Remus shrugged. “Not as hard as some things, but… yes. The anticipation. I feel like I’m going to crack in half from the tension of it all.”

His hands kept working at the fabric of the blanket, bunching it up, smoothing it out, fidgeting with the wrinkles, pulling at loose threads. He stared down at them, as if they belonged to someone else. He felt disconnected from his own body, like he existed slightly above and to the left of everything around him. Those hands, in a few short hours, would twist and crack and bend and stretch, forming paws coated in coarse brown fur and tipped with wicked black claws. Those hands would tear at the walls of the Shrieking Shack, batter and beat at the remaining furniture until it was splinters. These nails would rend his own flesh, bringing blood and bruises and pain. These hands were capable of such damage. It was astonishing they ever produced anything of worth at all.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

It wasn’t until Sirius’s smooth hands closed around his own that he realized how tightly he’d been gripping the blanket. He blinked, and relaxed his fingers. The muscles were sore, having been clenched up so tightly. He looked up - Sirius was on his knees, both hands wrapped around his own, lips slightly parted, his eyes filled with something… indescribable. Remus could feel the dry warmth of Sirius’s palms radiating into his knuckles, soothing them. He leaned forward a little almost without thinking, and now he realized he could smell Sirius - the scent of sleep, of laundry soap and clove and the faintest tinge of cigarettes. It was drowning his senses, the smell of him, the feel of him, everything. He was falling into Sirius’s eyes, surrounded by their gentle brown. Falling. Drowning. Rising up.

Somehow he came back to himself before he did anything stupid, like finish leaning forward and kissing the boy in front of him. Remus gently pulled his hands out of Sirius’s grasp and sat back. When he did, he saw the slightest hint of pain flash across Sirius’s face before the other boy stood up, hands jammed into his pockets. Remus grimaced inwardly and stood, trying not to look Sirius in the eye.

“I’d better head down to Pomfrey, it’s nearly time.” It wasn’t, and they both knew it, but Remus had to get out of that room before the tension knocked him sideways. Sirius nodded silently and moved aside to let him pass. As Remus went out the door, Sirius opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but changed his mind and shook his head. The door closed between them with a soft ‘click’.

~~~

Remus sat on the splintered bed in the Shrieking Shack and waited for the change to come over him. Sunlight streamed in the high-up window, sluicing through the dust in the air.

It always snuck up on him, like a train through the fog. By the time you noticed the rumbling and the noise, it was almost upon you.

He shuddered. He jerked. He twisted. He Changed. His nose sampled the air, searching for the smells that meant Friends, Safety, Fun, Comfort. He couldn’t find them! Where were they?

Out came teeth and claws.

~~~

A huge mountain of assorted birdseed was piled in the middle of the table. James, Sirius and Peter sat around it, armed with tweezers and an assortment of bowls. They surveyed their task.

“So let me get this straight. We have to sort this,” Peter pointed at the mountain with his tweezers, “into these bowls.” Another point.

James shook his head. “Tulip’s a clever bastard, I’ll give him that. This will take us all night.”

Sirius said nothing, just eyed the task before them with displeasure. After a moment’s silence, he sat with a heavy sigh and picked up a piece of seed at random with his tongs. The other boys flopped down and followed suit.

The moon hung high in the sky, visible from the narrow window. It was brilliantly white against the black of the night sky. Sirius kept glancing up at it.

An hour passed, then two, in relative silence.

~~~

The splintered bed finally crashed to the floor after a determined paw swipe took out the last leg. The wolf howled, calling for its friends. When no response came, its fangs clamped around a foreleg in frustration, sending blood splattering across the wall.

~~~

A howl echoed up from the forest, causing all three boys to pause. Sirius abandoned his tweezers and got up, crossing to the window. He gazed out at the forest, fingers drumming a rhythm on the windowsill. Peter and James exchanged significant glances, and then James put down his tweezers.

“Padfoot?”

“What?” said Sirius, still looking out the window.

James rolled his eyes. “When are you going to pull your head out of your arse and tell Remus how you really feel?”

That got a reaction. Sirius stiffened and spun, hands clenched and eyes wide.

“I - I don’t - you mean -” he paused, forced himself to be still, and finished. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Prongs.”

“We’re not stupid, mate,” chimed in Peter. “You’ve been pining over him for at least a year. Him being alone tonight has you wound tighter than a paranoid doxy.”

“You goggle at him when he’s not looking,” added James. “You find every excuse to touch him. And the way your eyes look when he’s smiling at you…” he shook his head. “Sirius, did you think we would hate you if you told us?”

A pause, then Sirius sank into a chair and rested his face in his hands. “Am I that obvious?” His voice was muffled by his palms.

“Yes,” said Peter and James in unison. Sirius groaned.

“Does Remus know?” Sirius asked, still covering his face.

“No idea. “James shrugged, picking up his tweezers again. “But you should go find out.”

Sirius turned to look at James. “What, now? But we’re-”

“Go on.” James reached into his robes and threw the Invisibility Cloak at Sirius, nearly knocking him out of his chair when it hit him in the face. “We’ll finish up here.”

“We will?” Peter asked, then jumped and rubbed his shin where James had kicked it. “I mean, yeah, we will. Go get him, Pads.”

Sirius thought about it, and finally stood to cover himself in the Cloak. “I… thank you for not hating me,” came from the air where he’d been standing. James just chuckled.

“You’ll have to do a lot worse than fall in love to get us to hate you. Now go!” The door opened by an invisible hand. “And don’t come back to the Tower until you’ve told him how you feel!” James called after his escaping friend. He turned back to the tower of birdseed and sighed.

“Shall we?” Peter grumbled.

~~~

The wolf curled up in the center of the room, panting. Wood splinters and strips of wallpaper littered the floor, along with slapdash specks of blood and tufts of fur. It was Sad. Confused. Angry.

Its ears twitched as a distant patter came ever closer up the tunnel, and a familiar scent wafted its way into the room as the trapdoor flapped open. The wolf lifted its head.

Friend? Here? Friend! It bounced to its feet, disregarding the myriad cuts and bruises all over its body, and ran over to the large black dog makings its way into the room. The black dog sniffed it all over, whimpering at the blood.

The wolf didn’t care about its pain - now its friend was here, and all was well.

~~~

The weak morning sunlight slanted past the curtains, and Remus cracked an unwilling eye to the world. Just like every morning-after, he took a general inventory of his body - ankle definitely twisted and maybe sprained, deep cuts across the left thigh, bruised ribs, scratches everywhere… he touched a hand to his nose and winced. Definitely broken. He pushed himself to a sitting position, moving slowly so as to not jostle his injuries more than necessary. The thin blanket kept in the Shack fell away from his chest as he sat up, and fell onto Padfoot’s sleeping body. He’d apparently curled up next to Remus to keep him warm during the night.

Just thinking about warmth made Remus realize how cold it was in the room, especially since he was decidedly unclothed. He looked around for where he usually left his clothes, and saw only a pile of shredded cloth. He grimaced - last night had been pretty terrible, it seemed. He shivered, and it was this movement that woke Padfoot up. The dog opened it eyes, cocked its head, and then in a complex and brain-twisting series of movements turned into Sirius sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Morning, Moons,” he whispered. Remus tried to smile, but the dried blood on his face had stiffened the skin too much. He reached one hand up to wipe it away, but gave up after a few halfhearted swipes. Sirius got to his knees.

“Here, let me.” He took the edge of his jumper and gently wiped Remus’s face, working off the worst of the blood. Once finished, he took the blanket and wrapped it around Remus, then stood up. He went to the trapdoor, rummaged around for a second, and returned with a bag.

“Don’t worry, I came prepared.” Out of the bag he drew a sweater and a pair of soft pants, as well a thermos and his wand. “I was a bit in a hurry, but managed to grab a few things.” He tossed the clothes at Remus and turned his back in a semblance of privacy.

“I’m surprised you came at all,” croaked Remus as he pulled on the sweater and pants. “Weren’t you supposed to be in detention?”

“Prongs and Wormtail covered for me.” Sirius turned back around, the thermos in his hands now full of steaming liquid. He poured some into a cup and gave it to Remus. “Hot chocolate. Drink up.”

Remus took a tentative sip - it was delicious, and not too hot. It was smooth and rich and filled his aching mouth with warmth and sweetness. He drank the hot chocolate slowly as Sirius gathered his shredded clothes into a pile. When that was done, he dropped onto the floor next to Remus and looked him over, eyes moving slowly up and down Remus’s body. Remus flushed, hoping the bruises on his face would cover any redness. Sirius reached out a gentle hand and held it over Remus’s injured ankle, not quite touching it.

“This must smart, yeah?”

Remus nodded, avoiding eye contact. He felt the tap of a wand on his ankle, and with a warm squishing sensation the swollen tissue receded somewhat and the pain died down. It still hurt, but nowhere near as bad. Sirius pushed up Remus’s pants leg, tapping the deep cuts on his thigh with his wand to close them up. The warm hand on his bare thigh was doing strange things to Remus’s brain, and he gripped the now-empty cup of hot chocolate so tightly it almost broke. Another gentle tap to his broken nose twitched it somewhat back into place. Remus finally looked up, and saw Sirius less than six inches away from his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. Remus stared - he couldn’t help it. There was a fine spray of freckles, so light you usually couldn’t see them, across the bridge of Sirius’s nose. He found himself focusing on those freckles, wondering what it would be like to kiss each one. He leaned forward unconsciously, closing the distance to four inches. Then three.

“Remus, I…” Sirius closed his eyes briefly. “I need to…”

But what he needed was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps in the tunnel. The boys sprang apart, Sirius throwing the Invisibility Cloak on just in time for Madame Pomfrey to throw open the trapdoor. Remus managed to send the thermos and cup over to the concealed Sirius in a panicked slide before Madame Pomfrey had climbed all the way into the room. She did her usual clucking and fussing over Remus, practically pouring two bottles of potion down his neck to speed up the healing process. If she thought the clothes were unusual, she was kind enough not to say anything.

They made their way back to the Hospital Wing, where Remus spent the day sleeping in a curtained-off bed. When he woke up for the third time some time around 3 pm, his ribs felt better and the other Marauders were clustered around his bed. James was the first one to notice he was awake, and grinned broadly.

“Cheers, Moo- er, Remus,” he said with a sideways glance at Pomfrey three beds away. “Welcome back to reality.”

Remus grinned weakly. “How was detention?”

Peter pulled a disgusted face. “It was awful!” And he launched into the story of Tulip’s detention. Remus half-listened, laughing or exclaiming in the right places, as his mind wandered. He kept thinking about this morning, about what he’d almost done.

He’d almost kissed Sirius, right there in the Shrieking Shack. And he was pretty certain that Sirius had wanted him to.

He chanced a glance at Sirius, who was sitting on the edge of the bed half-smiling at some pivotal moment in Peter’s story. He glanced over and made accidental eye contact with Remus, blushed, and looked away.

The blush was interesting and worth looking into, Remus thought. All at once he threw caution to the winds and made a decision.

“Madame Pomfrey?” he called. The matron made her way over to them, giving the Marauders a dirty look and a wide berth.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Can I finish resting up in my dormitory?”

“Of course, dear. But come back down if you need anything.” He nodded, and she walked away. The other boys seemed a little surprised. Remus sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Pads, will you help me back to Gryffindor Tower?” Sirius’s head shot up and he looked at Remus warily, but nodded. Remus stood and only wobbled a little bit, which he counted as a victory.

“I’ll see you lads later, then.” This to James and Peter. James immediately grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Right, we’re off to the library. See you at dinner!” He hauled a protesting Peter away in the direction of the library. Remus smiled inwardly. James always was quick on the uptake.

Remus and Sirius made their way slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. It hadn’t been a ruse - Remus genuinely needed help, especially on the stairs. He found himself leaning on Sirius more often than was strictly necessary, though - and each time he saw the blush and felt the nervousness. But by the time they were climbing through the Portrait Hole, Remus was almost spent. The Common Room was nearly empty, thankfully - most people were spending this cold but sunny Sunday afternoon outside or somewhere on the grounds, with only one or two zealous fifth years seated and studying at the tables. No one bothered them as they climbed the stairs to the fifth-year dormitory.

Sirius helped Remus climb into bed, and stood there awkwardly as Remus arranged the blankets and pillows around himself. When he was finished, Remus looked up at Sirius.

“Sit with me?” he asked, softly. “Please?”

Sirius sat on the bed, legs tucked up underneath him. He stared down at his hands, fiddling with the fabric of his pants.

Remus took a deep breath. “Sirius…”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius burst out. “I shouldn’t have… I almost… I didn’t mean to…” he sighed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Remus just blinked a few times. “...what?” he finally managed to ask.

Sirius balled up handfuls of the blanket beneath him, his knuckles white with the tension. He still wouldn’t look a Remus. “I… I almost kissed you earlier, in the Shack. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” He blinked several times. “All of my feelings just came rising up and spilling out and I couldn’t control myself, Remus, you were right there, right beneath my hands and so close to my face, and I could see your eyes, and the way the light was hitting you, and God, I just…” he scrubbed one hand over his face almost angrily and took several deep breaths. “I just don’t want this to ruin us. Ruin our friendship. Because so help me God keeping you in my life is more important than any stupid emotions I might be feeling.”

He fell silent, still breathing hard. Remus’s mind was reeling. He gathered himself together enough to reach out and touch Sirius’s wrist. The other boy jerked under his touch and turned to face Remus, brown eyes overbright with tears. Remus closed his hand around Sirius’s wrist.

“Pads, are you telling me you fancy me?” Sirius closed his eyes and nodded, just once. A wave of excitement and relief washed over Remus, and for the second time in an hour he threw caution - and himself - to the winds. He pulled Sirius by the wrist towards himself, caught the other boy’s face in his free hand, and kissed him.

The kiss, as kisses went, was too new and enthusiastic to be much good. It was all angles and teeth and repositioning, but it was honest and right and full of the feelings neither had been able to express. Sirius’s lips were warm and a little chapped, and they felt like perfection. They felt like comfort, safety, and home.

Sirius eventually leaned back, cheeks flushed. “I… wow, Moony, I just…” he ran a hand through his hair. “How long?”

Remus reached out a hand to run it through Sirius’s hair as well. “About a year and a half. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He wound strands of black hair around his fingers, carefully working out any small tangles he encountered. Sirius leaned into the touch. “How about you?”

“About a year,” Sirius replied, with a soft smile. “We’re right idiots for waiting so long, I suppose.”

“Something like that.” Remus was overtaken by a yawn so large his jaw cracked. “I really should get some more rest if I’m going to be in any sort of shape to go to lessons tomorrow.” He leaned back on his pillow, letting his hand fall from Sirius’s hair. Sirius picked up the hand where it lay and held it in both of his.

“Would you like me to stay?” Remus intertwined his fingers with Sirius’s.

“No, you go down to dinner and bring me something back.” He pulled Sirius’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, delighting in the sheer overwhelming fact that he could. “We should talk more when you get back. About - well, all of this.”

Sirius stood up. “What should I tell the others? James and Pete, I mean.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They already know… some of it. My side of it, anyway. Practically threw me out of detention by my collar to go to you.”

Remus made himself comfortable in the blankets and pillows. “Tell them I swept you off your feet. Make me sound romantic.” Exhaustion was coming back over him in waves. Sirius leaned over, tilted his chin up with one finger, and kissed him again. This kiss was less urgent and more languid, sweeter, gentler. When he stood up again Remus’s head was swimming.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered. Sirius kissed Remus once more and made his way out of the dormitory, closing the door very gently behind him.

Remus slid into sleep and into dreams that welcomed him with open arms. Dreams of a person who saw his heart and held it, warm in their hands. Dreams of Sirius. Dreams of love.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-4th Place

To anyone who plans on making a reboot of their favorite show in the future, you might want to take notes on this next pick. Because if you ask me, this next series that I'm going to talk about is the best example of how to do a reboot properly.

#4-Ducktales (2017-2021)

The Plot: Scrooge McDuck is the richest duck in the world, who made it big by also being one of the greatest adventurers of all time...ten years ago. Sadly, after an unfortunate accident with the family, Scrooge is forced to live the life of a normal businessman-er-duck. Up until Donald Duck asks Scrooge to watch over his nephews: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. What starts off as a single day of babysitting soon turns into a life of adventure as Scrooge gets back into the adventuring spirit to show his new family what the world really has to offer.

Now I want to make one thing clear: As of the moment of me writing this review, I have seen a total of zero episodes of the original Ducktales. That being said, despite my limited knowledge of the series, I still think it’s fair of me to point out how this is hands down the best reboot as of late (and I’ll explain more as to why that is later). And besides, from what I’ve heard from fans who have watched the original, Ducktales (2017) is a pretty faithful adaptation of the beloved franchise. The reason is that I believe this show remembers the two most important rules of making a reboot.

The first rule of a reboot is to try something new while still being faithful to the source material. Doing something like that is simple as a writer just needs to keep what the fans love and change what they hated. And trust me when I say that the writers of Ducktales (2017) knows how to do just that. For the most part, the show is about a family going on crazy globe-trotting adventures while still learning that family is the best adventure of all, much like the original. As for the characters, most of them keep their fun personalities. Scrooge is still a stingy miser with the heart for adventure, Launchpad is still the lovable idiot who can’t fly a plane, and Donald Duck still remains the one who gets stuck with all the bad luck. Then some characters have their personalities/roles revamped into something that improves upon the original. The best example is Fenton, who is still the wannabe superhero but is now a scientist in this show, wherein the old one was just Scrooge’s accountant. This way, both the hero and the man-DUCK-who’s behind the mask are equally capable of saving the day. There’s also Mrs. Beakley, who was originally a nanny that nagged Scrooge’s ear off for putting the kids in danger. In the reboot, she’s treated more as the anchor of reality to the more oddball characters, who also used to be a kick-butt super spy in her younger years. It is still the same role, but a different interpretation.

Now, some characters receive grand changes to their original personalities. But from what I’ve heard, those changes are made for the better. And there are no characters that need it more than the children. More specifically, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. This show does something that I’m eternally grateful for, and that’s giving each of these three their own distinct personalities and quirks. For years I couldn’t for the life of me tell the triplets apart. They had the same design, the same voice, the same personality, and the only difference people had to go off of are their different colors (which really didn’t do much to help). Here, they have different designs, voices, and now defining character traits for each of them. Huey is the smart and responsible boy scout, Dewey is the annoying attention seeker, and Louie is the best character in the entire show, and I WILL FREAKING FIGHT YOU ON THAT! And let us not forget the most appreciated change: Webby. From what I’ve heard, fans hated the original Webby, as she was nothing more than just the stereotypical girl of the group. Here, she’s given an actual personality and a fun one to boot. Webby is the ecstatic thrill-seeking adventurer who is skilled in combat training (thanks to her grandma) and is (of course) a socially awkward girl who wants to make friends. Like I said, this show took the idea that the fans hated and changed it into something that they’ll love. Which makes sense why the writers mastered this because they themselves are real fans of the show.

It is clear how much the writers are fans of the Ducktales franchise as they filled Ducktales (2017) with many references. And not just references to the original series but also references to the classic comics by Carl Barks and even the NES video game from the 1980s (seriously, this show will make you feel things about the “Moon Theme” you wouldn’t think was possible!). Even the show’s animation seems to be a homage to both the cartoon and comics. Not only do the characters and backgrounds have a more comic book style to them, but the characters also work on a mix of realistic and cartoony logic. And let me just say, it is refreshing to see characters in a Disney show have cartoon logic to them since Wander Over Yonder got canceled. And it’s not just Ducktales that the series reference, but even classic Disney movies (of course) and other shows in the Disney Afternoon lineup. And when it comes to these references, it’s more than just a subtle wink to the fans. The writers actually go out of their way to write a story around these beloved characters, so people who don’t get the joke won’t be one-hundred percent lost. For instance, without giving anything away, the writers found a brilliant way to reintroduce Darkwing Duck in this universe that feels right for this famous character. And if you ask me personally, these are the best ways to handle references for a reboot. Make them work within the story, even if you don’t fully get the joke.

This brings me to the second most important rule of a reboot: Make a quality product even though it is based on something else. Let us pretend that the original never existed. Would Ducktales (2017) still be as good as it is now? Personally, as a person who has never seen the original, I think it is.

This is another show that mixes slice of life episodes with adventure ones, similar to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. And just like Friendship is Magic, both are equally interesting because the characters themselves make them so. No matter what situation the Duck Family are in, the audience will care about it because the characters care about it. In fact, I think Ducktales (2017) handles the mix of slice of life and adventure much better than Friendship is Magic. In MLP: FiM, the adventure-based episodes force the characters to stick to their simple personality traits to move the story forward, and character-based ones help them grow. In Ducktales (2017), because the characters regularly go on adventures, they grow as characters no matter the situation. For example, my favorite episode is “The Great Dime Chase” where the main plot is Louie finding Scrooge’s #1 dime after accidentally spending it. While in that same episode, Dewey and Webby try to solve a mystery around the boys’ mom. We get a great lesson about the importance of hard work and a fascinating plot of an overarching mystery within the season, all taking place within the same episode. Both are interesting, neither feels as though it overshadows the other, and the characters develop along the way.

Another thing this show mixes well is comedy and drama. A lot of shows recently tried way too hard to find that perfect mix. Ducktales (2017) is one of the few examples that nails it. The comedy is hilarious, the drama is endearing, and neither feels like it’s prioritized over the other. The show starts off with this mix as well, where others that I’ve talked about seem to start off as purely comedic only to take themselves more seriously later on. That isn’t entirely a bad thing, but I feel as though Ducktales (2017) is the best way to go about the method. That way, fans won’t be complaining about how much “better” the show used to be in its first batch of episodes, much like Star V.S. the Forces of Evil.

Unfortunately, while I recommend this show, it’s not without its fair share of issues. Or rather, issue, as there really is only one problem I have with it. And that problem can be summed up with one name: Dewey Duck. For the most part, I dislike Dewy. Because he’s nothing more than a Ben Schwarts character. No disrespect to Ben Schwarts himself, but lately, it feels as though he only plays the one character from time to time: The egotistical attention seeker slowly and surely learning to be a better person who realizes that not everything is about him. That’s the character he plays in both Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Sonic the Hedgehog (2020), and it’s the character he plays here. And the thing about these characters is that they’re not as lovable as Ben Schwarts thinks they sound. In fact (and, again, I mean no disrespect to the actor. I’m sure he’s a lovely person in real life), every single one of these characters comes off as kind of annoying rather than as the lovable rapscallions I’m sure they’re meant to be. However, there is one thing worth mentioning about Dewey. While he’s portrayed as annoying when used for comedy, Dewey is surprisingly a compelling character when used for drama. The thing is, he’s rarely used for dramatic moments and is meant as a source of comedy. Hence why I said I disliked him for the most part.

Other than that, there aren’t really that many problems with the show. Well, there are, but they’re mostly nitpicks that the series more than makes up for. Is it weird that the kids are voiced by adults? Yes, but the actors do a great job at being sincere and have great comedic timing than any kid could have. Are there changes to characters that fans might not enjoy? Probably, but I have yet to have seen anyone that has annoyed me as much as Dewey has. Are the villains just evil for the sake of being evil? Yes, but that’s not really a big deal. In fact, a villain doesn’t need a heartbreaking backstory as to why they’ve become so evil. They just need to have a great personality that’s fun to watch, which every villain in the show has (aside from season two’s antagonist who’s basically a Disney surprise villain. And I hate them with a fiery passion). Does it feel as though the show suffers from “too many characters” syndrome? It sometimes does, but each character has such a fun and unique personality that I find it hard to forget most of them.

So really, Ducktales (2017) is the best reboot in recent memory. This is crazy, seeing as how lately it feels as though Disney doesn’t even know how to properly reboot their own movies to save their lives. This is why I feel as though people should take notes on what Ducktales (2017) does if they ever feel like rebooting something they loved as a kid. Because this is more than just a retelling of the same story that people know by heart. This is a fantastic show with even better characters, stories, and tone. Whether you’ve been a fan since the beginning, or a part of the new generation of viewers, odds are you’ll be screaming Whoo-Ooo with every episode.

(Also, a word of warning to those who haven’t watched the show yet: Beware the theme song. Trust me when I say it’ll be stuck in your head until the day you die)

[for-peace-war]

art by @idrawbuffgirls

This is the final part to the Great Winged One series I did.  Last night the heroes entered the mountain and after defeating the sleipnir Vanjir and the valkyrie Aesera, may have allowed an ancient evil back into the world, but... also prevented an apocalyptic joining of worlds.  It was a lot!  So again, I want to thank: @lordcaliginous, @i-am-guinevere, @scowlet, @perfectperfidy, @diermina and @that-green-nut for sticking through my attempt at pathfinder/conaning a story out of thin air.

Also thanks @mcsars for introducing me to the setting and giving such a good place to start with an AU.  So again, thanks to everyone and when I start my next series up I’ll get back to these hour writes! Cheers.

OH and @idrawbuffgirls FOR THIS ART. YOU ROCK!

THE GREAT WINGED ONE.

Follows Part I.

Follows Part II.

Follows Part III

Follows Part IV.

Follows Part V.

Follows Part VI.

Finale.

CHLORIS THE CORINTHIAN quietly collected the clothing of those convalescing within the chilled cabin.  A gentle fire warded what cold it dared from the interior, but from the shivers that ran along the men about her there was little doubt in it—the wintry frost had found its way into them, and only the strongest of those gathered would survive. That sentiment, one of strength and those that possessed it in its zenith, followed her as she moved sightlessly from one of her convalescents to the next.  How had she come to safeguard so many, she wondered, when only days before she had not been able to protect even herself?

Mindful as she was of her condition, it was the lack of her hand rather than the absence of her sight that dogged her in those waking moments.  She could still feel the phantasmal pain of the arrow piercing the white raven she had imbued with her sight—still feel that arrow lance through her eyes and cast to the ground crimson tears that she would never see. The magicks she had been expected to use were old and dark, and though her better judgment would have warned her against them, there were few things that could motivate a decision more rapidly than the ire of a Ymirish lord.  Even more so, the ire of the Jarl Grimtor, whose barbarity was second only to the delight he drew from the cries of his victims.  Sightless or not, she would never be able to forget what she had seen within captivity—she would never forget what it meant, truly, to be without power.

But sight—sight was something taken for granted.  She could hear those she tended to and through that, knew where they were. The smell of their wounds had not yet soured and so she could see those as well; she knew the number of them, had patched and bandaged them to the best of her ability.  In the absence of sight her senses had gained a preternatural edge, compensating in ways that no human would have been capable of were they not blessed by The Great Mother and the secrets that the woods whispered when frosts melted and spring’s breath was fresh within the air.  It was within the northern climes of the Pictish Wildlands, not the decaying fyli of the Karpasha Mountains, that she had learned the most important lessons of magic—true, terrifying magic.

The Pictish Wildlands were a savage wasteland to some, yet the very ground that had been seeded in the blood of generations spoke with such fervent admonishment of mankind and expectation for that which would follow, that she knew far better than to consider any part of it a waste.  The very skies above hungered there, and that hunger bred within its bowels such true and raw power that even a woman blinded such as she, could yet see the beauty manifested within the awakening might that was come of its mounting urges.  Yet for all of this, she had not been captured for her knowledge of those untamed wilds—and she had not been named for them, either.

She was but Chloris the Corinthian. And she wasn’t even from Corinthia.

Had she ever truly seen, though?  The eyes were deceptive and the faces that she had known did little to tell her of what she saw when a person was before her.  It was not until they were freed to show what was beneath the mask of their existence that the truth was known and by then, was it not always too late?  She had scars to remind her of that—upon her back, and forever straining against her heart where her trust should have been. Even before she was without sight, she realized, she was sightless. Had she ever seen anyone?  Could anyone?

A cough came from the man to her left, whose body she had found curled up beneath a tree and nearing a death that would take him from the lands of his ancestors, into the frozen hell that swirled about them.  Even had she not, with the white raven, seen their lot emerge from the snow then she still would have known he was a Zingaran: she could smell the salt of the sea in their blood and hear the crashing of waves when they breathed.  The man’s cough was stronger than it had been the day before, and promised to discharge some of that which coated his lungs and forced his ragged breathing to hasten.

“Where am I?” The man asked.  She had not expected him to awaken so suddenly.  His voice was weak, yet there was the virile lust for life within it that the swarthy men of the Zingaran coast braced life with. “You—”

“You are safe,” Chloris answered.  She felt her way from where she stood, to the table nearest them, and from there moved with a warmed cup of broth to offer him something to drink.  His breathing resounded throughout the air for her; his motions became faint lines that were traced in her mind a thousand times.  No, she could not see the dusky Zingarana, but she could feel him—she knew where he was, even if he did not.

From the opposite corner in the room, another voice rose. “Marioso, yer aliv-ed. Gods be damned, I tho’ I were due fer’a promotin’.”

“Darmino, you live?”

“Yer damn’t right I is.”

“Ah, what good news. The captain—”

“The witch’rn’t sayin’ nothin’a the cap’n.”

“The witch? Madam—”

She began to speak. “My name is—”

“It dern’t matter what she am say ‘a her name, Marioso.  She be a witch’r frost’n fell magicks, cullin’ yer ‘fore ya’ spake ill’r her dark gods.”

The man, whose name must have been Marioso, took in a quiet breath.  Chloris could feel his patience returning to him, like a hound that had been long without its master.  Once he had wrestled it into submission, she supposed, he might be free to speak more earnestly.  Until then, she remained quiet—and the other spoke in her place.

“Have you offended our hostess in some way, Darmino?”

“Gods damn’t truth ain’ done a thing t’er!” His protest caused her to wince, though she tried her best to conceal it.  Loud voices—anger, were things she had learned to avoid or endure.  Perhaps her attempt to conceal that had not been as successful as she wished though, for the man that had been harassing her—Darmino—found a somewhat softer tone.  “When I wok-ed up and she’s there with’r crow teats all in me face, I tol’t her true—‘I’ma man’a fair haired asternations, I din want any a wha’ yer offerin’,’ and she said—”

“I am shocked she said anything to you after that, you cantankerous scab. Where are your manners, Mr. Marachino?”

“Ain’ never held ‘rm.”

“Mitra be praised,” Marioso said.  At long last he seemed to remember that she was standing there, for he reached for the broth and drank of it steadily with a shaking hand. “Forgive my companion his indelicacies, madam. We are indebted to you—and men of the Cavallo repay their debts, on our captain’s honor.”

“Maybe if yer the cap’n there’s honor,” Darmino said. “If Valensi’s dead, anyroad.”

“If he has died in pursuit of—”

Chloris interjected. “ He hasn’t.”

“Hasn’t?”

“He hasn’t died.”  She drew her arm back and set the emptied cup down, then felt her way to the wall and removed the poker from it.  The fire had to be tended once more, for of the three men she had retrieved only two had awakened—and the third trembled now more than ever.  The smell of death was upon him, but she had seen it turned back before.  She had seen it turned back, many, many times before.

From both men, sounds of joined relief flooded the erstwhile tense cabin.  “Oh, what joyous news,” Marioso said. “It was a damnably bold plan he had, and when our trap failed! Oh, but we have prevailed. I—ah, my ribs.”

“You are much wounded,” Chloris said. “Please, do not move.”  She wished she had her other hand then, so that she might move her hair from her face as she tended the fire, but the stub wiped at ineffectively, and her hold on the poker felt suddenly hollowed for that reminder. Was she not much wounded?  And yet, she could not stop moving—if she did, then they were all ended that evening when the cold came and the darkness with it.

“What of the battle, then?” Marioso asked her.  She could imagine his eyes, seafoam green and sweltering with delight, cast upon a body that had been broken and beaten more times than there were days to the year.  She felt flustered by that attention, and continued to stir the fire for whatever traces of warmth it might have provided. “How did we come to be here—how did any of it come to pass?”

At that, she spoke a single word. “Treachery.”

“Madam?”

“The girl—of the Wolflands,” Chloris went on to say.  She had seen Caethe through the eyes of the white raven, and done all she might to alert her that she had.  Jarl Grimtor was no great thinker and by saying she used the snow to alert him to where she was, she also gave the girl a chance to flee—which she had. The Zingarans had done their good service, certainly, but the girl and her wolves had been considerable in setting into motion the events that followed.  Even as she thought of them, they seemed too fantastic—it all seemed too unreal.

“Caethe,” Marioso said.  “We occasioned upon her on the way up.  As I recall, the captain had a desire to see her informed of our plan to aid her, but the Stygian—Tsekani, was it? She said it would be a better ploy if she did not know. That a cornered wolf fought thrice as hard as one that knew it could escape.”

Chloris believed she concealed her revulsion at the mention of the Stygian’s tactics.  It was true, a cornered animal did fight to the end, but the Pict was a member of a pack—and the presence of her friends, she had seen, was what pressed her beyond the point others would have endured alone.  As Marioso made no mention of her response, she assumed her deception had prevailed.

Or else, the Zingaran was merely too nice to show otherwise.

Outside of the cabin, stalking about it protectively, the dire wolf that had shattered her arm so that she might slip free Jarl Grimtor’s chain, howled but once.  He had found something. Chloris had taken to calling him Vigo, and he responded kindly to it—never so much as to seem tamed but answer her if she needed him at any moment. Had the Child of Wolves known that she had not meant to harm her? Was Vigo’s presence a reminder that their shared blood mattered more than the sides they had been on in the battle?  She did not know.  But she knew that she could vividly imagine what he must have been feeling then, rushing about the snowy battlefield and consuming whatever had not yet been taken by the elements or the wild.

She could feel in her blood—the blood that had dripped down her cheeks after the white raven fell—that she was as free as he.

Marioso politely clearing his throat called her back to the present.

“You spoke of treachery, madam?”

“After the Wolfchild—Caethe—was rescued by her companions upon the winged wyvern and Vigo had pulled me to safety—”

“I’m sorry, madam.  Vigo?”

“It be thar devil wolf she is nightly fuck’t by in the shade of—”

“Mr. Marachino!”

“Well, I ain’t tellin’ a fib!”

“I am certain that whatever relationship our hostess has with this creature is a consensual endeavor in husbandry.”  As he worked through that sentence, Marioso seemed to stumble more than his companion had when he tried to stand.

Despite herself, Chloris could not but bashfully smile and blush.

“I do not couple with the wolf,” she said.

Marioso’s relief was audible. “Oh, well.  If you had—and I do not mean to imply that you had—but had that been the case, no gentleman of the sea ought inquire or conspire against you on that account, madam. I assure you—”

“Oi! ‘m well glad yer nay be our cap’n, Mariosi! Y’r talkin’ more’n a preddy har what know’t I wan’r somethin’ bad.”

“I’ll never understand your turns of phrase, Mr. Marachino.”

“Aye, well, anyroad—go back to talkin’ wi’ yer lady.”

Marioso, as if given leave to actually speak, went on. “My lady, please do continue.”

“You do not need to call me that,” Chloris said, but went on. “After we were safe, the others realized that Jarl Grimtor was injured.  Ymirish lords are not loyal—they respect strength because they fear pain. Two of them—Joratun the Mighty and Thoramun Blooddrinker, broke away from the offensive and pressed in upon Jarl Grimtor.  I believe they felt that in his weakened state they could fell him.”

Joratun, Son of Brator, had been as close to a right hand as Jarl Grimtor may have known, excepting his son—who he had, in a stroke of genius motivated by her entrapment—seen sent to the interior of Glacimar itself.  With Grimthor Jarlblood no longer at his father’s side, Joratun and Thoramun made their move—and discovered why the jarl stood where he did.

“Scurrilous dogs,” Marioso breathed under his breath.  “Have these creatures no honor?”

“Not them,” she concluded. “But another.”  At that, she was reminded of what had been lost to that point and spoke more directly.  “Jarl Grimtor struck both down, but his injuries forced him from the field.  They say that the Nordheimers were able to defeat the lone Ymirish lord, Morfund the Breaker, and that—well, the mountains now call for a new thane. They say this woman, Aesileif the Aesir, will conquer the mountain and that her brother, Torman the Vanir, who was slain in felling the Great Winged One Aesera will be the hero to ordain her ascent.”

She understood very little of how Nordheimer culture operated, though the title seemed to imply that one person would bestride both Vanaheim and Asgard, joining them together and uniting a legacy of hatred under one fist.  A hero would be needed to preside over the joining of the mountains, and if they had indeed slain a Valkyrie then a great deed had been accomplished to merit their challenge to the heavens.  It seemed that a new thane may come of the savages of the north, as dangerous a thought as that may have been.

But she also knew that so long as Jarl Grimtor lived, that title would be a meaningless one.

“I cannot believe we prevailed,” Marioso said. “I mean—I knew we would, but what luck.  What honor—oh, how can we repay you, indeed?”

He may have meant it as a general courtesy, but she took him at it.  “There is a man among the captured, Grimthor Jarlblood. He and I were as one for a time, and I would see him granted the freedom he was promised.”

She did not mean to seem desperate, but she knew her words left her with more alacrity than civility mandated.  These were not the words of Chloris of Corinthia, she knew.  They were of the woman that had bandaged that poor half-giant, and seen him back to strength countless times.  They were the words of a woman that knew what love meant, and knew that the only reason he had not died was because of it.  Not carnal love and its brutality, but something more resplendent—something that did not take, but only gave and surrendered willingly to the strength of the moment.

“I do not know what it will take to see such done, but I will give my all for that endeavor.”

“An’ me,” Darmino said. “Since yer hair too dark fer a proper thank-fuck, least I can’der is see this Grimthorn soaks’s sword back in yer. If ol’ Garibaldi don’ go dyin’ on us, I’m speakin’ fer’m too.”  The sickly man’s cough could have been an assent—or his soul leaving him.

Chloris thought to speak more of the matter, but the howl that she had heard before was joined by a sudden growling.  Outside, Vigo had found something indeed—and that something had found them. “Stay here,” she told them, and without considering how defenseless she was against the world without, she ventured into it.

The snow as cold under her bare feet and yet it did not stop her stride as she moved in the direction of Vigo’s growling.  Under it she could hear a voice calmly speaking, and for the time being preventing him from advancing from his place.  What was she doing? Why?  Even if she were to summon any spells in the cold, what chance did she have of defeating someone that she couldn’t see? And to what end?  To protect Zingaran sailors that surely were as false as everyone else? Logic, reason—sheer self-preservation told her to trust for once in something other than the good of the world, and to take back to her own path as she had denied herself for so long.

But she was not a solitary creature, she knew.

A crow would always need its murder.

She allowed her feet to see for her—to guide her, until finally she felt Vigo’s back, bristling with raised fur, against her hand.  The chilled air was heavy upon her, but she knew that she had within her enough strength to forge from the prevailing winds a blade to severe the limbs of any monster daring to challenge her friend—or those she protected under her wing.  Yet when she looked to the one that had so agitated Vigo and threatened her home, she was dumbfounded.

She could not see him—and yet she could.

For the briefest moment, a golden light illuminated the darkness that had become her world.  This man was wounded—injured in a battle she could not comprehend, and yet the force of his existence fluctuated with a radiance that faded with each palpitation.

“I do not wish to kill your companion,” the man said. “But I must go to Jokullgard.”

“He will not harm you,” she said. “If you do not harm him.”

The man was quiet. The light upon him faded further until it was but a whisper—though no longer did Vigo growl.

“I am Keleos the Kothian,” he said. “You have my word that no harm will come to you.”

For but a moment, Chloris thought of saying what she had always had—that she was Chloris the Corinthian, a scholar of ancient texts that had been abducted by Jarl Grimtor and forced into service.  There was truth in that lie—more truth, in fact, than lie.  But that which had bound her to it; that which had for so long shackled her into place, was no longer there.  She was free—as free as the savage lands from which she had come.

“I am Qali the Crow,” she said. “It is good to see you.”

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Four: A Crystal Cup ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

Passing through the city gates is a bit nostalgic.

Astride his dark mount, Sasuke comes to a stop just outside, observing for a short while. The first time he beheld the Luxerian capital, the protective barrier was still erect, shielding the city from outsiders. Its roads had been ghostly, empty and silent as he, his brother, the light mage, and Hinata all made their way in toward the castle atop the knoll, and the statue of Luxeria standing guard. It was there the healer at last found the knowledge necessary to cure Itachi entirely, and repay her friend’s side of the debt: the agreement between the fire and water mages then complete. Hinata had gotten away from her father, learning about magic...and in turn, Sasuke’s brother was cured at long last.

From there...things seemed to snowball.

Determined to resuscitate the city of her ancestors, the lux mage had enlisted both Itachi and Hinata’s help in rebuilding the council of the twelve elements. Itachi agreed to take igni’s mantle, and Hinata aqua’s. 

Sasuke...had felt betrayed.

His brother had promised that - once his body was whole - they would return home to their parents and finally enjoy a normal, healthy life. It was the one thing that had kept Sasuke on this path: the promise of his brother’s vitality, and seeing their parents’ faces upon their return. At first, he’d been angry - livid - convinced that the lux mage had twisted Itachi somehow to get him to agree to such a hare-brained scheme.

And Hinata, too! She’d been friends with the healer before he’d met her, but still…! Did all their journeying together - all they faced together - mean nothing? Was she really ready to throw away the freedom she’d earned and become shackled to another destiny? Give away her autonomy to involve herself with politics?

All Sasuke had ever wanted was a free, peaceful life with his mother, father, and brother...and suddenly, everything felt like it was falling apart. Perhaps it was childish...but he chose to be angry: chose to blame the lux mage and her ambitions for Itachi’s change of heart.

...of course, that had only been partially true. The blooming friendship between the pair - with hints of something more than friendship - had swayed him. But once he managed to corner his younger brother, Itachi had explained his feelings: of wanting to help restore balance and peace for their people. No longer would the el’ven have to live in fear and hiding.

Hinata, too, admitted to similar feelings. Her own family’s flight took place when she was old enough to remember, unlike Sasuke’s in his infancy. It weighed on her far heavier...as it did on Itachi, who also witnessed the downfall of their city.

...it took time, but he came to understand, if a bit stubbornly. And after meeting with the monster slayer and assassin Kakashi, Sasuke honed his skills further, taking to the road as his brother and Hinata pursued their own futures. It’s been a year, now...and he’s finally returned.

Maturity has stripped a bit more of the fat from his face, hair longer and half-tied in a tail behind his head. His brashness has tempered with patience after so many hunts and contracts. Finally, it seems...he’s grown up.

His year on the road has changed him greatly...and helped him see many matters from another angle. It’s that alone that brings him back, and at this particular time. In only a few days, the second of the new council meetings will begin.

Hence the current bustle in the city, so unlike his first glimpses of it. Allowing a hint of a smile, he gently urges his horse forward, shod hooves clacking pleasantly against the stone streets. Those on foot part like water to let him pass as he makes his way to the stables. Mount housed, he then makes his way up to the castle doors. Guards preside carefully, asking his name.

“Sasuke, house of Uchiha,” he replies evenly, seeing the recognition in their eyes.

“Oh, aye sir! Please, make your way inside.”

Nodding, he passes them into the entry hall. Flawless white stone and peerless glass windows seem to alight from all angles. Even here there are considerable crowds: mostly palace staff, alongside Luxerian acolytes dressed in white and gold. Intermixed are other elemental colors, the twelve represented and gathered to prepare for the week of festivities and negotiations.

For a time he stands and watches the bustle, mostly unnoticed as he only receives curious glances. He doesn’t stand out much in his plain traveling gear and cloak, looking every part the wanderer and sellsword he’s become.

“...Sasuke…?”

For a moment, the tone stills the beats in his chest. Then a glance aside reveals Hinata. Pale eyes are wide in surprise, posture half hesitant as though weighing the decision to reach for him. The traditional colors of Auquiana - deep and shallow blues - color every inch of her garments, accented subtly by silver. Her hair is still long, loose along her back.

“...Hinata.”

Brightening, she abandons her indecision and approaches him, bearing a warm smile. “What are you doing here? Did Itachi ask you to come?”

“No...I’m here of my own volition. Thought I’d see how things have progressed in a year’s time.”

“I see…! Then...have you plans to remain until the summit is over?”

“Perhaps. We’ll see how it holds my interest.”

That earns a wry smile. “I’m sure it will. Even if you’re not a fan of politics, the meeting of cultures is always of intrigue. I’m sure if you asked, Itachi would let you sit on his council if you wished to see the proceedings up close.”

“...we’ll see,” he replies vaguely, not too keen on the political side of things. “I hear there’s a gala…?”

“Yes, for the dignitaries and their parties, as well as some notable guests.”

“So...those with deep pockets,” Sasuke counters.

“Some, yes. Others are experts in ven, or in negotiations. Some are just important members of each culture. This isn’t just for the rich and powerful.”

That just earns a hum. “...well, I suppose I might at least participate in that, if I must.”

“It’s by far the most entertaining day,” Hinata agrees. “It’s the first, so we all begin on a friendly, light-hearted note. At least...that’s how it felt last year. We’ll see if history repeats itself. But for now...why don’t we catch up? It feels like it’s been eons since I’ve seen you…”

“Is a year really that painful?”

Hinata gives him a glance. “...was it not so for you?”

“Well...I kept rather busy.”

“As did I. But I always found myself hoping you’d write.”

A bit of guilt settles in his stomach. “...next year,” he half jokes, half promises.

“You’d better…!”

Hinata dispels her entourage, and the pair retreat to the back gardens. They aren’t alone, but the atmosphere is quite a bit less stressful than the interior of the castle. As they come to a stop nearby a fountain, a member of the staff seems to appear out of thin air, holding aloft a tray with crystal goblets filled with sparkling white wine.

“A bit early for that, isn’t it?” Sasuke asks.

“It helps keep things...relaxed,” Hinata replies in jest, accepting a crystal cup.

After a pause, Sasuke does the same, taking a small sip. “So...how has all of this treated you?”

“It’s hard work, especially since we’re still only just beginning,” she admits, watching the water. “But we’ve already made excellent headway. Treaties and new political lines are always in the works. Things are changing...slowly, but surely. The relations between el’ven and el’kor are bettering. Tensions remain, but...it’s to be expected.”

“How has my brother fared? He’d write me on occasion but otherwise I heard little - he was always vague and light on words.”

“In all honesty, I doubt I can tell you much more. As much as we work together, so too do we have plenty to do apart. But you’ll see him soon - I think he’s due to arrive today or tomorrow.”

“It will be good to see him…”

Hinata glances to him thoughtfully. “...and it’s good to see you,” she murmurs. “I take it the road treated you well enough?”

“Fairly. I sent most of my earnings back home. It hasn’t been glorious, but honest enough. Engaging enough.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely…?”

“...a bit.”

“...is that why you came back?”

His lips tick upwards. “...maybe it is. At the very least, in part. A break in the monotony is always good. There’s variety in my work, but it’s all still work.”

“Mm...I understand.”

For a moment, they stand in silence...and then Hinata lifts a hand. Casually, playfully, she starts manipulating some of the water in the fountain.

In a way it makes Sasuke nostalgic, thinking back to the first lessons he gave her about the powers her father had forbidden her to use.

“I guess our paths have no intention of slowing any time soon, do they?” she then murmurs, letting the liquid meld back into the pool.

“...I suppose not. But maybe that just means we enjoy what we have while we have it.”

A brief smile flickers across her face. “...maybe. At the very least, I intend to.” Hinata gives him a glance. “...which includes your company.”

“...I look forward to it.”

                                                         .oOo.

     More crossover with my original fantasy verse! Admittedly this one hasn't had much...story? At least not linear among all I've done with it: just random bits and pieces, sort of like the ALAS stuff. Hence not linking things (yet) because it's really all over the place lol      Speaking of, I HAVE been slowly working on a spreadsheet trying to get all of these sorted into mini series. Maybe by year's end I'll be done :'D      But yeah, not much to say about this one...just a lil reunion after some character growth. I kinda DO want to make a fic out of this, maybe...I'm just wary since it has original elements of mine. I've been doing one with a friend of mine's OC and mine, and a few canons...but SH really isn't in it, as it takes place a bit later than this...kinda? So idk if anyone here would be interested lol      Anyway, I'm...very tired, and in a lotta tooth pain, so I'm gonna call it a night~ Thanks for reading!