#> also i have now officially drawn thunder so much i can draw him in less than 10-20 lines

[woof-squiggles]

"come to me, my mysterious natural phenomeno-"

no filters + bonus under cut

bottom is a shoddy screenshot redraw because i found it very funny jHDAJD

[gthreepio]

i’ve been thinking about the future of the mcu and realized there’s a LOT that i didn’t know/didn’t remember in terms of where things are going so i figured i’d sum it up incase anyone else was in the same boat!! 

quick recap of (unresolved) mid-credit scenes:

doctor strange: mordo (a sorcerer that is one of strange’s mentors, who by the end of the movie becomes disillusioned with magic/the ancient one and quits) confronts pangborn (the paraplegic who healed himself with the mystic arts, who tells strange about mystic arts in the first place) and steals his magic because according to mordo, there are “too many sorcerers." of note, this guy is typically a villain in the comics but hasn’t been thus far...

gotg2: ayesha (leader of the sovereign, a golden skinned alien race obsessed with genetic purity), after spending most of the movie chasing the guardians for stealing some stuff, is revealed to have created an artificial being named “adam” which is presumably, adam warlock. (other stuff that is less relevant: kraglin appears to take up yondu’s mantle; the ravagers regroup and several old and obscure comic book characters are introduced [charlie-27, aleta, martinex, mainframe]; the watchers are watching things.) 

far from home: j jonah jameson basically tells the whole world spider-man’s secret identity, and frames him for what happened with mysterio....making him public enemy #1. ALSO, turns out nick fury and maria hill in the movie were ACTUALLY the two skrulls from captain marvel (talos and soren) attempting to do their job, while the real fury (and presumably hill) is ... up in space on some spaceship!!!

wandavision: monica (who we can assume is photon) is called by “an old friend of [her] mother’s,” up in space, which presumably means fury, talos, or carol. ALSO, wanda sits in the middle of nowhere reading the darkhold and hears the voices of her children who.. by all accounts, should not exist. 

aaaaand what we know about future movies (i’m not even going into the tv series.....): 

black widow: 

takes place after civil war

nat confronts a “dangerous conspiracy with ties to her past,” likely has to do with taskmaster who has apparently taken over the red room where nat was trained as an assassin

prominent new characters: yelena belova, who will take over the mantle of black widow after this; alexei shostakov aka red guardian, an ollllld marvel hero analogous to captain america except for the soviet union.

tony stark will make an appearance... SOBS

shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings:

shang-chi has never been seen in the mcu before, but he is, essentially, a superhero that is a master martial artist, and in some adaptations can also create duplicate (fake) versions of himself to confuse opponents

main villain will be the the mandarin who we have *sort of* seen before... he is the leader of a terrorist organization called “ten rings” whose main goal is to destroy world peace. brief history -- in iron man 1: one ten rings cell kidnaps tony stark and tries to force him to make weapons (he of course, makes his suit instead). stark and ten rings become enemies and fight a bunch. nat and nick fury fight them too. in iron man 3, the villain aldrich killian hires a dude to pretend to be the mandarin and claim responsibility for a bunch of stuff, but its not the ten rings or the mandarin at all. this makes the mandarin v mad and he has a dude kidnap the faker to punish him. they also briefly show up in ant-man, when a ten rings agent tries to buy the yellowjacket suit that darren cross is selling. BUT IN SHANG-CHI....... looks like we are FINALLY going to see the real mandarin after over a decade!! 

the villain razor fist will also show up, he is lesser known... he has no superhuman powers but he has surgically replaced his hands (1 or 2, depending on the version) with a steel blade, and is highly skilled at hand to hand combat.

besides the presence of these characters, the only bit of plot we know is “shang-chi is drawn into the ten rings organization and forced to confront his past.” so... yeah. we don’t know much at all.

eternals: 

quick explanation: the eternals are an immortal alien race who have been secretly living on earth for thousands of years. they were created by the celestials, who are most prominently in gotg2. 

more entirely new characters!!! their names are: thena, who can form any weapon out of cosmic energy; gilgamesh, who can make a super strong exoskeleton out of cosmic energy; ikaris, who has superhuman strength, flies, and can project cosmic energy out his eyes; kingo, who can shoot cosmic energy projectiles from his hands; makkari, who creates sonic booms, has super speed, and is deaf; phastos, who has enhanced intelligence, and is also gay (and married with a kid!); ajak, who has healing powers; sprite, who can project illusions; sersi, who can manipulate matter; druig, who can mind control; and dane whitman (black knight), a human with a mystical sword. 

regarding the plot... it seems the eternals have kind of dispersed, but have to come together again to fight the deviants, who are their “evil counterparts” (also created by the celestials, though i’m unclear on why). thena and gilgamesh have apparently been in exile, unclear why; sersi, who is posing as a museum curator, has apparently been in love with ikaris for centuries and it seems as if their love story may be central to the film; and kingo is a bollywood film star in his spare time. aaaaand that’s pretty much all we know.

directed by chloé zhao of nomadland fame! 

spider-man no way home: 

based on the post-credits scene in far from home, peter parker will now be known as spider-man to everyone. unclear if he’s going to be seen as a bad guy due to mysterio framing him, but i guess we’ll see! 

jamie foxx is electro, and alfred molina is doctor octopus; which is VERY interesting considering they played these roles in other spider-man franchises, once again stirring up excitement for possible multiverse. 

there have been *multiple* reports that andrew garfield, kirsten dunst, tobey maguire, and emma stone will be in the movie but tom holland has repeatedly denied this... so... who knows. 

there are also rumors that matt murdock / daredevil (from netflix) will be in several scenes! not confirmed though. 

MJ is still his girlfriend and i hope it stays that way!! 

doctor strange will be featured in the movie, taking on the mentor role now that tony stark is gone :( this will be interesting as i.. haven’t really seen them interact much before. because of this inclusion some people speculate that the film may draw inspo from some comic storylines where peter’s secret identity is restored with magic. 

doctor strange in the multiverse of madness: 

scarlet witch is essentially co-starring!!! it’s going to be really interesting to see if they bring vision or the twins into this at all, though i’m not counting on it. 

seems like mordo will be the main villain -- recall the ds1 post credits scene where he is apparently running around trying to steal people’s magic.

america chavez will make her debut!!!!!! i have no idea how this plays into anything but i am so excited!! 

regarding the plot, all we really know is that strange has been researching the time stone, mordo messes with him, and this results in him accidentally unleashing “unspeakable evil.” presumably there will also be heavy involvement of the multiverse, and who knows what kind of craziness that will bring!! 

initially was going to be directed by scott derrickson who did ds1; however he stepped down to being just EP due to “creative differences.” i am presuming this is because derrickson really wanted to make this more gothic and horror than disney was comfortable with. i REALLY hope they keep some of those elements though and don’t erase the idea entirely! anyway, it will be directed by sam raimi now (of evil dead and spiderman 2002 fame). 

the film also reportedly ties in with the loki series (will loki show up!?) and spiderman 3 (which is obvious enough, given that strange is in that movie and those curious electro and doctor octopus castings...)

thor: love and thunder

directed by taika waititi again, hell yeah!!! and he has stated, the film will be “so over the top now in the very best way" and would make ragnarok look like a "run of the mill, very safe film" .... so.... oh god

so many great returning players!!! including.... valkyrie (now the king of new asgard), jane foster, lady sif, korg, star-lord, mantis, drax, nebula, and kraglin (takes up yondu’s mantle after he dies in gotg2)

in this movie, thor isn’t thor anymore.... it’s JANE!!! she gets cancer :( and is undergoing treatment while simultaneously being thor. i’m a little nervous how this will be handled, but i’m excited. (it’s based off an amazing comic series by jason aaron) 

the big bad: gorr the god butcher, played by christian bale! the gist of it is, this dude HATES gods because nobody helped when his family was dying and in need. his weapon is “all-black the necrosword,” forged from the head of a celestial, and allows the user to create wings and fly at extreme speeds. honestly, he sounds cool as fuck. 

valkyrie is going to be made canonically bisexual!!! 

it will explore more of korg’s backstory, and also include... space sharks!?!?! an alien race from the comics.

taika has called the script “very romantic” so take that as you will 

black panther 2

will again be directed by ryan coogler

not much is known at this point, does not have an official name

t’challa will NOT be recast (which i’m happy about) so..... honestly no idea what to expect for this one. i think we can probably expect shuri to have an expanded role. all we know so far is they will be “exploring the world of wakanda.” not clear to me how this is different from the upcoming wakanda D+ series. 

tenoch huerta has reportedly been cast as a villain, but no one has any idea who. there’s also rumors that donald glover is in “informal talks” to play a role. note all of this is unconfirmed.

captain marvel 2

will be directed by nia da costa (candyman!) and written by megan mcdonnell, who is one of wandavision’s best writers! 

will take place in the present day 

will feature kamala khan / ms. marvel, monica rambeau / photon!!! this will be so interesting.... kamala is a huge fan of carol’s in the comics, she is her mentor/idol. the ms. marvel series will also resportedly lead into cm2. and monica, well, monica knew her when she was a little kid. wandavision implies that there’s some bad blood between carol and monica though, not sure why. maybe because carol left and never came back? (until endgame) 

post-credits scene of wandavision appears to tie into this, having monica go up into space at the reqeust of her “mom’s old friend.” again, not clear who that is. this could also be a tie in to secret invasion though, so we’ll see. or both.

zawe ashton has been cast as an unknown villain... a lot of people are actually speculating that she may play rogue? which would be fascinating, as there’s a comic arc where rogue steals her powers and memories. BUT there’s still no confirmation that X-men exist in the MCU so for now i remain skeptical.

they are looking to cast a ‘john boyega’ or ‘michael b jordan’ type which makes me wonder if they are going to create a new character, a “younger” war machine to be her love interest? (note: carol and rhodey are a huge thing in comics!) carol obviously does not look her age but her and don cheadle.... that just doesn’t work. which is why i wonder.

ant-man and the wasp: quantumania 

in addition to scott and hope, pretty much all the major players are returning including: luis, hank pym, janet van dyne

cassie lang has been recast with an actress 5 years older, which is really making me wonder if they are going to make her stinger in this movie! (aka one of the main young avengers)

the villain: kang the conqueror! this dude time travels. original name nate richards. in the comics, kang travels back in time to rescue his younger self (nate) from an attack that would help shape him towards a life of villainy. kang also gives him some fancy armor. his younger self actually is like, what the fuck dude? and renounces his destiny, becoming a hero. and he makes his armor look like iron man, calling himself iron lad. who is a young avenger. which also makes me wonder about cassie lang.

otherwise not much is known! 

guardians of the galaxy vol. 3

james gunn is returning, i’m mixed about this...he really does *get* the guardians though. 

based on the gotg2 post credits scene, i think we can assume adam warlock will be a HUGE part of this. there are multiple versions of him, some villainous and some heroic, but no idea how this is gonna turn out.

no word yet on whether thor will be involved, or if those ravagers they introduced will be involved. 

fantastic four 

will be directed by the spiderman guy, john watts.

otherwise we know literally nothing.

aaaaand that’s the roundup! 

[agent-cupcake]

Cupcake!! Do you listen to music while writing? If yes what kind?

Yes! I absolutely do! I really love music, I’d say it’s secondary to literature as far as my choice of creative input so this is also just my personal recommendations regarding music as a whole with explanations and unwanted commentary because I’m dumb and this is one of my favorite things to talk about.

Firstly, my ongoing(ish) story Beastie and the Bard is musically driven so here are some songs I have on my playlist for that. I tend towards pieces that are melancholy but melodic. Entrancing, perhaps.

Lolita by Ennio Morricone - Contextually, I realize this is a bizarre (even tone deaf) pick given the source material, but... Whatever. This song, in general, just reminds me of Dimitri. Although a heavy, militaristic march might suit him better, the heart rending sound of this song just works for me when I think of him. The piano sets the tone immediately, lingering on some notes in a wistful, sad way. And it is sad, the cello and flute join in to make that clear. But, at a certain point, the instruments begin to dance around together, opening up and almost seeming like they want to resolve the song and create something happier, or at least something bittersweet, only to be drawn back into the uneasy tragedy of the main motif. I dunno, for me, it just absolutely aches like betrayal. 

Shallan’s Lullaby by treefin / Black Piper - This music box rendition of Shallan’s Lullaby from Stormlight was the melodic inspiration for my bootleg lullaby that reader writes for Dimitri (perhaps not the first part as much as the way it shifts around 1:07). It’s haunting.

Isabella’s Lullaby from The Promised Neverland - Pretty self explanatory, I think. This one hits the sweet spot of beautiful and sad, from the harp to the vocals it just fits. 

Howl’s Moving Castle Merry Go Round of Life original and the cover by the Grissini Project - Both versions are incredibly special pieces of music and I’d be surprised if you hadn’t heard this theme before, very good for the more whimsical parts of the story (not that there’s gonna be any more of that).

Shadows of the Lowlands from Xenoblade 2 - While I’m about to recommend this entire soundtrack, this vocal piece is stunning. This guy’s vocals, no joke, sound like a Tolkien Elf. We Are the Chosen Ones is done by the same vocal group and soloist so it’s also making this list although the tone is def a bit different. 

Okay now I’m just gonna point out my favorite soundtracks. For all of these, I have COMPLETELY LEGALLY downloaded most of these from other sites, I’m linking youtube just based on superficial searches to hopefully give you a taste and maybe encourage you to NOT BREAK THE LAW and acquire these soundtracks on your own

Fire Emblem Three Houses - This is obvious and I’m sure you’ve all heard it, but go have a listen if you haven’t. but first, is anyone else disappointed about the Three Houses official release soundtrack? Considering the delay I guess I kinda expected more. Granted, the soundtrack IS phenomenal. Not so much in its entirety, which is emblematic of the game as a whole in some ways, but the set pieces? Unforgettable. This soundtrack is a case study in how powerful a small pool of musical motifs and set-up/pay-offs can be. The little promise of God Shattering Star at the very beginning of the game, Those Who Sow Darkness giving a taste of Shambhala, and then the use of the main melodies of Season of Warfare (Main Theme) and Song of the Nabateans. For the most part, both melodies are used in dramatic songs, creating this unbreakable musical connection between Edelgard and Byleth. Or, if you think about it, Edelgard and the Rhea. For example: the thunder version of Funeral of Flowers doesn’t have the game’s theme, but the rain version does (those two songs were WRITTEN to be layered I stg). And then there’s that somewhat bastardized version of the main theme in At What Cost, highlighting the intended twisting of the usual heroic take on that melody. I do have a potentially unpopular opinion, however. The Apex of the World is boring and tonally dissonant with the final battle in Azure Moon. A lot of people really like Edelgard-Dimitri likes Edelgard! There’s very little heroism in that mission, at least to me, and a song like At What Cost would have fit SO MUCH BETTER. I mean, that is also Edelgard’s theme so hearing that being twisted up into this decidedly more dark song would be thematically appropriate to her ultimate choice. The title also just seems like it suits her and Dimitri. Edelgard claims that she has weighed the cost of war, she believes she is capable of taking on the cost of victory without really knowing what it would be. Dimitri's whole story was him trying to find revenge no mater what the cost and now that he has it, he’s fully understanding what it will cost him. I understand why they would use the traditional hero song to cap the route, but it seems weird that they’d be willing to subvert so many other aspects of tradition while holding to that for a song that, in my opinion, is the least interesting of all the final battle songs. As you can probably tell, At What Cost is a song that is very tonally inspiring to me. I also love Funeral of Flowers (Thunder and Rain separately and layered together), The Long Road, and Roar of Dominion for getting hyped to write.

Final Fantasy VII Remake - Ever since I got this soundtrack, I’ve been addicted. I really don’t have much to say on this one other than just to recommend you give it a listen if you’re even passingly interested in orchestral video game music. There’s some misses for me (specifically the Wall Market stuff and anything that gets into the weird electric guitar/techno stuff) but it’s overwhelmingly fantastic and can work for active listening music and for background music while you write. I’d follow up recommend you get ahold of the Acoustic Arrangements soundtrack. I can’t link you on this one but it’s worth the extra legwork to procure it COMPLETELY LEGALLY. 

Final Fantasy Distant Worlds - I was actually able to see the Distant World’s tour when it swept through Houston and at that point I had no idea what the fuck a Final Fantasy was. At all. However, seeing One Winged Angel live is not something I will ever forget. Ever. This soundtrack is great for some background listening and although it is often too upbeat for my usual tastes, it’s good when I need something easier. Okay. Real talk. I was about to recommend to you a bunch of FFXIV music (the MMO), choice selections from FFXV, and try and dig up some songs that are only available in live recordings. If you like Final Fantasy music, I recommend all of these things. The games are a clusterfuck but the music is even moreso and it’s worth your time if you like this kind of thing.

Xenoblade 2 - See? Told you I was gonna recommend this. Actually, ranking wise, I would say that I like it more than Final Fantasy. This soundtrack is magical. I cannot stress that enough, there is a level of whimsy and beauty that went into this soundtrack that all at once draws upon the genre and being it’s own thing. Like, I get it, there’s a lot of misses. The electric guitar is jarring and annoying. Listen to Sea of Clouds, like, actually listen to it. Listen to Desolation. Pay attention to the motif used in connection with Elysium and then the other songs that its used in. The Power of Jin. This is a sometimes sad but mostly beautiful and whimsical soundtrack that is good for listening and for using as background music. 

Xenoblade 1 - I don’t have as much to say about this one, I don’t feel as if it’s as emotionally resonant as my other recommendations. BUT it is gorgeous. The area themes are wonderful and perfect for setting tone. 

Hollow Knight - Hollow Knight’s soundtrack takes one step back from the drama of the others and revels in its depressive simplicity. There are songs with a more cheerful tone, and the magical whimsy of Xenoblade 2 is very much brought to life in many of the pieces, but for the most part the soundtrack is as gorgeously melancholy as the game itself. One of my favorite things in music is when songs are given new life through new context and the White Palace --> Pale Court transition is haunting. 

Diabolik Lovers - OKAY I KNOW I KNOW hear me out. This soundtrack has no right to be as gorgeous, emotional, or quality as it is. This song, Lovers, is the younger sibling of Lolita’s theme, okay? Thematically, that’s kinda hilarious, but I mean it. If you like that song, give a few of the songs from this OST a chance.

BioShock, BioShock 2, and BioShock Infinite - BioShock 1&2 are different from Infinite. A lot more grungy, a lot more angry and discordant, the strings buzz and there’s a lot more horror to it all. Infinite, on the other hand, is very pretty. Infinite’s soundtrack is about the characters and their journey and feelings. The first two game’s soundtracks are about the ruined city of Rapture. It depends on what you’re in the mood for. I write using Infinite’s music more often, but there’s pieces in the first two that capture this empty, yearning feeling that is good for setting mood.

Pathologic - “Half Life’s soundtrack directed by Genghis Khan.” It’s bizarre. It’s grungy. 

Void (Typrop) - Basically the same deal. I dunno man, I like being inspired by horror.

Outlast - It’s an orchestral horror game soundtrack. Like the game itself, there’s a lot of horror movie inspiration. 

Dishonored 1 and Dishonored 2 - This is mostly background music. It’s a stealth game so it’s kinda uneasy, but I think there’s something really unique. Maybe the instruments? There’s a lot of weird sounds used. 

Higurashi - This is a compilation of horror themed songs from the anime soundtrack, but the VN soundtrack and the non-horror stuff is pretty good, too. Michishirube is my favorite.

Madoka Magica Rebellion - The main anime soundtrack is gorgeous. The bells, the strings, the drama... I’m recommending Rebellion specifically because it’s the more cohesive and story-driven soundtrack. This one is not as horror-ish and weird than the others, it is very beautiful and nice to listen to. Sad, in some parts, too. 

Code Geass and Resurrection - Brass? Got it. Dramatic strings? Got it. Bombastic set piece songs? Triple got it. This soundtrack oozes style. In some ways, that makes it not good for writing, but in others it can. Depends on what you’re writing. I think the melodrama can be incredibly useful for getting my mind in that frenzy state. 

Okay I’m done. Thank you for bearing with me. 

If we’re talking what songs inspire specific things, the Ferdinand piece was accompanied by a lot of the Diabolik Lovers soundtrack and Final Fantasy. When I wrote my sad Felix piece, it was all about Hollow Knight with a spot of Bloodborne and Dark Souls.  

[smiting-finger]

Previous HP AU parts: Here, here, here and here

“So, Requiem,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the image on the surface of the bronze mirror ripples out into the uppermost three quarters of Nie Huaisang’s head.

(“My brother hung it in the office when he took over as Sect Leader,” Nie Huaisang explains during their first mirror-call after Wei Wuxian’s return. 

Wei Wuxian immediately drops the topic.

“Do the other Sect Leaders just … let it go?” he asks Lan Zhan later, and receives a small headshake in reply.

“He adds extra seat cushions to his chair during official meetings,” Lan Zhan says, his voice uncoloured by emotion, his gaze steady as he turns to meet Wei Wuxian’s. “But he says they’re difficult to balance on.”

Wei Wuxian drops the topic a second time.)

“The song that we learned at school for calming restless souls?” Nie Huaisang asks with three quarters of an appraising look, and then adds, “Those of us who weren’t tone-deaf, anyway.”

“That’s the one,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and if that’s a dig at the time he deliberately played out of tune and almost sent old Professor Lan beyond the veil to soothe the spirits of the dead in person, he stands by his choices.

(If it’s a reference to Wen Ning, then - well, the poor boy tried his best. You can’t be good at everything.)

“I was thinking,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. He waves his wand at the small pile of paper birds in front of him, which line up obediently along the desk edge and take turns to divebomb the makeshift target drawn on the back of his office door. 

“We use Requiem as a conduit to magically encourage emotional calm - so there’s no reason, in theory, that we couldn’t use music to do the opposite, is there?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his chin a few times (or, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian assumes is causing the soft patting sounds he hears, since his line of sight stops at Nie Huaisang’s upper lip), before asking:

“You want to ... compose a song that makes souls restless?”

“Not restless,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t need magic to do that, “I just want to … encourage them to feel certain things. Or have certain states of mind.”

He slings a dart at the door and sighs when it only barely makes it into the target’s outermost boundary.

“You mean,” Nie Huaisang begins slowly, “like that time with Professor Lan and your shitty flute playing in third year?”

“Well, yes,” Wuxian allows, because technically that is what happened, “but also no. I’m also thinking more through the actual music than the quality thereof. And ... I’m also possibly not looking to induce rage?”

His second dart lands closer to the centre, but not by much. A paper bird embedded into the next section over starts to shake its butt at him in a smug victory dance.

Rude.

“So instead,” Nie Huaisang prompts gently, “you’re looking to induce…?”

“...arousal?” Wei Wuxian offers hopefully.

There’s a moment of silence, which is eventually broken by the slide of Nie Huaisang’s fan as he flicks it open.

“Why?” he asks finally, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgment out of his face.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile goal in and of itself,” Wei Wuxian supplies in his loftiest impression of Lan Qiren’s lecture-voice.

Nie Huaisang simply looks at him.

“And maybe in this case, the knowledge might have some personal application, too,” Wei Wuxian admits, and is met with a second moment of silence.

“I truly don’t know if Lan Wangji deserves my condolences or congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says eventually, and shakes his head.

“Why not both?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

-

“It comes down to a question of whether lust is fundamentally physical or spiritual, doesn’t it?” Lan Xichen muses between stirs. “Could you pass me the three-legged crow feathers, please? They’re in the box on the - no, the one next to - yes, that one, thank you.”

He takes the dish from Wei Wuxian, scatters the feathers evenly across the bubbling surface of whatever potion he’s brewing and immediately takes a step back, drawing Wei Wuxian along by the elbow. A second later, the feathers begin to spark, whizzing around in jerky figure-eights before finally sinking into the pale liquid with a soft hiss and a few wisps of white smoke.

“Now where were we?” Lan Xichen asks himself, picking up his wooden ladle to resume his gentle stirring. “Oh yes, that’s right. Requiem acts on the metaphysical component of the being - the mind and soul, if you will. We know that because of its effectiveness on ghosts, who possess no physical component at all. Therefore, it follows that if lust is purely - or, otherwise necessarily - physical, then Requiem will not be a useful basis for what you’re trying to achieve.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding slowly. “And that’s not even considering that the physical and mental components of lust might vary in comparative size from person to person...”

Lan Xichen hums in agreement and opens a box of yao grass, carefully selecting a sprig and then slipping off the small cord binding it together.

“We’ll just have to test it, then,” Wei Wuxian decides firmly.

To Lan Xichen’s credit, his hand, outstretched as it is over the mouth of the cauldron, only pauses for the briefest of moments before his fingers uncurl to allow the yao grass to fall in.

“I look forward to your findings,” he says serenely.

-

“Get out,” Lan Qiren says.

“But-” Wei Wuxian protests, because he has an entire speech prepared to explain why, as the Theory of Magic teacher, Lan Qiren should be absolutely be interested in this project.

“OUT,” Lan Qiren thunders.

Wei Wuxian gets.

-

“Can ghosts even … release?” Nie Huaisang wonders from his perch on the edge of the water, on one of his rare visit to the Gusu Academy. 

With both classes and Nie Huaisang’s official business finished for the day, the afternoon presents a perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to indulge in nostalgia for their schooling days. And so, as soon as lunch is over, he drags Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning out the door and into a romp all over the grounds to marvel at all the things that have changed, as well as all the things that haven’t.

Somehow they’ve ended up at the cold springs, the scene of many a student tryst (tragically, not a single one of them involving Wei Wuxian), and countless youthful fantasies.

None of which the three of them are calling to mind, sitting as they are with their pant legs rolled up to their knees so that they can soak their feet (or, in Wen Ning’s case, hold their feet above the water in a good approximation thereof) like the old men they are.

It’s not quite like the old days (the absence of a familiar, derisive snort; of the loud words that are almost sharp enough to hide the fondness thrumming beneath them like heartbeats under breastbone, is too pronounced for that), but in the miracle of After, it’s more than Wei Wuxian thought he’d be able to have.

(It’s enough.)

“Let’s say lust is metaphysical enough for your reverse-Requiem to work,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and then you play it for a spirit, and get them worked up. What do they ... do with that? Can ghosts-”

He makes an unmistakeable jerking gesture with his hand.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He hadn’t considered that.

And then, with an eerie synchronisation that Wei Wuxian can only attribute to the seven formative years they spent living in each other’s pockets, they turn as one to look at Wen Ning, who lets out an alarmed squeak.

“Does it matter?” Wei Wuxian asks, deciding to take pity on Wen Ning and refrain from pursuing that line of inquiry, 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang answers, turning to him with a significant wide-eyed glance, “think about it this way: if you were a resentful spirit, and someone played a song for you that made you build up all this lust that had nowhere to go … wouldn’t you become more resentful?”

Wen Ning squeaks again, his eyes like black saucers in his pale face.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pausing to consider this most excellent point.

“Actually, wait” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. “There’s at least one outlet that I’ve just thought of-”

“Possession,” Wei Wuxian supplies immediately.

“Right?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, waving his fan excitedly. “Can you imagine, a horny, possessed horde-”

“-charging around the countryside” Wei Wuxian continues, grinning with mixed horror and delight, “humping everything in its path-”

(They spend the next hour casting bubble-head charms on themselves and taking turns to swim to the bottom of the cold spring so that they can promise Wen Ning that no, they certainly won’t be asking him to help them test any of this, and they won’t be testing anywhere near him, either, Wei Wuxian will make sure that all testing happens far, far away, so can he please come back out now, the students would be sad if he stayed hiding inside the pool forever-)

-

“WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSING?” Jin Ling yells, not letting the fact that he’s currently upside-down and hanging from the ceiling get in the way of his outrage.

“Students who break into my office to poke around my things have no right to complain about what they find,” Wei Wuxian replies calmly, leaning back in his chair so that he can look up at the two bodies suspended in mid-air and wriggling fruitlessly against the confines of their bindings. 

“IT WAS A DARE,” Jin Ling shouts defensively, starting to swing back and forth from the force of his own righteousness.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that if I were you,” Lan Jingyi mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian inquires politely, leaning forward so that he can rest his elbows on his desk and pointedly steeple his fingers at his miscreant students. 

“A dare to look through my notes?”

“No,” Jin Ling shoots back hotly, before subsiding into a muttered, “I just looked at those because they were there. AND,” he resumes, remembering his earlier indignation, “when I did,” it turned out to be all - all -”

What the boys have managed to find are actually all Wei Wuxian’s half-sketched plans of ways to surpass (or just match, Wei Wuxian would be more than happy with even approximately matching) Lan Zhan’s patently unmatchable love confession. 

(Ten years of waiting and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees Wei Wuxian’s face again is “Wei Ying, I love you.”

What was the first thing that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth after seeing Lan Zhan’s face again?

“Ho ho ho, you think your puny barrier charm is gonna make me sleep in this box when I could be sleeping in your bed? Well think again!”

It really doesn’t compare.)

So far, each one has ended in a frustrated jumble of scribbled-out lines and some variation on WHAT WAS I THINKING? THIS DOESN’T EVEN COME CLOSE, but he’ll get there eventually.

“-all-” Jin Ling continues to splutter, “plans to - to have your way with Professor Lan!”

Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. What a charmingly missish turn of phrase - Jiang Cheng’s fingerprints are all over the boy’s upbringing.

“Everyone’s always talking about all the things you invented during the War,” Jin Ling continues to rage, unaware that his intended audience is only half-listening, “talking about how you were the best mind of your generation - The best mind, and THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE WASTING IT ON?”

“Can you stop?” Lan Jingyi hisses. “If you make him angry, he’ll never let us go!”

He jerks his hip in a clear attempt to nudge his fellow prisoner. Unfortunately for him, he uses too much force and overshoots the mark, excess momentum instead sending them both spiralling around each other as the charmed ropes holding them up begin to rapidly intertwine.

“What else would I use it on?” Wei Wuxian asks, watching with badly-concealed amusement as the boys’ efforts to stop spinning only make them spin faster. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t think of anything more important than getting into Lan Zhan’s-”

“SHAMELESS!” Jin Ling howls as he and Lan Jingyi begin to spin in the opposite direction.

“STOP YELLING!” Lan Jingyi yells.

“You wouldn’t have seen it, because I haven’t written it down yet,” Wei Wuxian continues mercilessly over the top of the resultant shouting match. “But if the song doesn’t work, there’s this part-human creature in Europe that does an apparently irresistible seduction dance. It shouldn’t take me too long to learn it-”

Jin Ling’s answering bellow of rage, Wei Wuxian notes fondly, is almost an exact copy of Jiang Cheng’s.

-

“So what’s this actually about?” Nie Huaisang asks during their next mirror-call, after Wei Wuxian plays another three notes that create a curl of something in his belly that could maybe be mild interest (or could maybe be just gas).

“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Wei Wuxian asks reflexively, picking up his brush and carefully crossing yet another failed stanza off his list. “It’s about what it’s about - expanding my foreplay repertoire so that Lan Zhan doesn’t get bored and leave me for Mianmian.”

“You said it wasn’t about inciting rage,” Nie Huaisang continues thoughtfully, completely ignoring him. “So what else would you need to draw out of people?”

He tilts his face up towards the ceiling and purses his lips.

“It wouldn’t be happiness - we’ve already got charms for that - sadness? But why would you-”

Nie Huaisang freezes, and then slowly, carefully, brings his eyes back down to meet Wei Wuxian’s.

Theirs is a generation that grew up in war. Who among them doesn’t have unresolved grief? Who doesn’t have emotions they’ve repressed (trauma, resentment, guilt) - at first because there wasn’t the time or energy between the fighting and the surviving to properly work through them, and then afterwards because it just seemed easier to move on and try to forget?

(How many ghosts are unable to move on because they cannot resolve worldly attachments that they’re too afraid to remember?)

Nie Huaisang clears his throat.

“Why don’t you play me that last one again?” he suggests lightly. “I think you inverted one of the chords wrong. After we fix that, maybe it’ll work better.”

-

“Oh good, you’re back,” Wei Wuxian says when he steps into the Jingshi to find Lan Zhan already waiting. “Shall we-”

“Am I not passionate enough for you?” Lan Zhan cuts in, apropos of nothing. His voice is mild, but there’s a glint in his eyes that puts Wei Wuxian on immediate alert.

(And Little Wei Wuxian on immediate alert too, but that’s basically a given when Lan Zhan is involved.)

“...no? What makes you think that?” Wei Wuxian asks carefully, and Lan Zhan mutely lifts up a very familiar, half-finished composition.

Ah.

“I can explain,” Wei Wuxian offers quickly, holding his arms out between them and automatically stepping backwards in response to Lan Zhan’s very forceful (and very long!) step forwards.

“I have very valid reasons,” he adds, continuing to scramble back as Lan Zhan continues to advance, until he finds himself pinned between a rock and Lan Zhan’s hard, manly chest, “none of which are in any way a challenge to the strength of your ardour-”

He has just enough time for a half-laugh, half-yelp as he’s picked up and thrown onto the bed, and then all further protests are put on hold while Lan Zhan proves, aggressively and comprehensively, that he’s more than passionate enough.

-

With Lan Zhan’s musical expertise involved, the deconstruction of Requiem into its core magical components goes a lot more smoothly, and much more quickly.

The “testing” of Wei Wuxian’s derivative composition also becomes a lot more fun, if a lot less reliable in terms of producing valid results.

In the end, Wei Wuxian is only a little disappointed that they don’t manage to get an aphrodisiac song out of it.*

-

In the second year after his return, Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian developed the song Release, which has since been adapted for a wide range of therapeutic applications, including use in treatments for anxiety, depression, stress and trauma. 

With assistance from noted symphonimagus Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian deconstructed the then-established Requiem and, by applying its foundational magical principles in reverse, was able to create a song that, when played, encouraged the controlled expression of emotion under the player’s guidance. 

Unfortunately, his notes and experimental logs have since been lost.

-excerpt from the Annals of the Cloud Recesses

-

*

“LAN ZHAN, LOOK!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, running down the side of the hill towards him, waving a handful of leaves and flowers, “APHRODISIAC GRASS!”

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

Take Me, I’m Yours ♡

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: You’re the baby of the group, a twenty something year old fire goddess and the untouchable sister of Thor Odinson, your sworn protector and overbearing brother. It's the fourth of July which means it’s Cap’s birthday, your long time teammate, but when an unexpected guest arrives, things don’t go according to plan. 

A/N: oof I haven’t written in forever it seems, I’m sorry I’ve been so busy I hope you guys enjoy this ik I did writing it, this is set after Endgame but Tony and Natasha survived because I WANT THEM TO and I have never really written a Steve Rogers fic or at least in a long time cause I’m watching Avengers on Disney plus rn and it’s a lot be gentle and plz leave feedback it warms my heart and make my day I also crave validation

Warnings: slight angst, loads of fluff, cheesiness, sexual tension, tropes, violence, men being touchy, assault, language, smut, rushed writing, get ready 

Steve is golden. You’re coal black, despite innocent appearances, you’re dark with jagged edges, but your blood is radioactive, glowing with power, just like your brother Thor. But that is what you two share, you and Cap, you’re both broken. 

You’re the baby of the team, young, pink pouted lips, big, doe eyes that get you what you want, round face, flushed cheeks, ample curves, and honey suckle voice, velvet like your y/s/c skin, woven with power and fire. 

You’re strong, smelling of a forest fire in the depths of winter, burning embers and cedar. 

He sees this, all of it, like you admire his broad shoulders, hard muscle, all strength and statue, he’s Apollo, a Greek god made of heat, brick, and mortar. He’s let his chestnut hair grow out slightly, hanging over his face, enough to run his fingers all the way through, a rugged, barbaric beard you want to tug on into submission. 

The goddess and the god-like man.

But he can’t have you.

---

You separate Thor’s hair into three strands, tugging them into a braid as you both watch the meeting planning Captain’s birthday party. Thor winces at your harsh pulling, trying to make it tight. 

“For Odin’s sake, sister, be gentle,” he curses under his breath.

“You want it to last, don’t you? Stop being such a baby and let me work, remember I hold all the power here,” you continue, rolling your eyes with a hint of a smile. “God of thunder can’t handle getting his hair done, how ironic.”

“At least I have a soul.”

“I will light you on fire.”

“You two, stop bickering or I’ll put you on clean up duty,” Stark reprimands.

You roll your eyes, “Kiss my ass, Stark.”

You make the mistake of making eye contact with Steve from across the conference room, lips slightly parted subconsciously when his eyes, a darkened, stormy blue with lightning striking his irises, are drawn there, perfect pink mouth, resembling a rose petal in full bloom. He folds his arms over his chest and looks away while you duck your head down, embarrassed. 

He’s hot and cold when it comes to you, longing glances when he thinks you’re not looking, silent, lustful touches on your waist when he passes you, an occasional wink when no one is around, flirting with you, a conversation or two at the crack of dawn when it’s just you two on the balcony, painted with gold and auburn from the sunrise. But other times he avoids you, going out of his way to be anywhere you’re not, cold words and stares that shiver you down to nothing but your bones, leaving you bare and he won’t even take the time to look at you, your undoing by him. He’s quiet around you at times like he’s hiding something.

Thor looks at you with a face of disgust and you pull his hair.  

“I propose an idea when it comes to my party,” Cap raises his hand, looking at Tony.

“By all means, birthday boy, let us hear it,” Barton chimes in, Natasha casting him a look meant to kill.

“We don’t have it.”

“Proposition denied,” Tony says. “This is happening, and frankly, we could use the good press after the world nearly ending.”

“And celebrating that with a party is your idea of good press?” Bucky leans his weight against the doorway, Sam letting out a small chuckle.

“Hey guys we, as a human race, were all almost completely wiped out by the jolly purple giant but let’s forget about that by celebrating Captain America’s birthday that none of you are invited to,” Sam mocks. You giggle despite yourself, looking at the floor while tying off Thor’s braid, Natasha elbowing your ribcage playfully for encouraging them. 

“Maybe I just want to throw a party,” Tony scoffs. “Sue me.”

“Believe me, if we could, we would,” Clint looks up at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’d be so fucking loaded,” Bucky whispers to Sam.

Sam lets out a deep sigh, “Tell me about it.”

“Y/n... what do you think?” Tony asks, letting out a deep sigh, pinching the space between his brow with his fingers. 

“What do you mean?” you look up, admiring the french braid you did on your brother, smiling to yourself before looking back up at Stark. 

“About the party? What we’ve been talking about for the last half hour?” 

“Oh I wasn’t listening...” you chuckle, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye, his lips turned up. “I um... well I think we should have a small party with all of us and friends, just enough to draw attention from the right people. We can fire up the grill and light a campfire, roast some s’mores... light fireworks, of course,” you trail off with a laugh.

Steve cracks a smile. “I like her idea.”

“That... sounds perfect, actually,” Natasha looks at you then to Tony. 

Tony sighs, but he wears a large smile, adorning his face, “Meeting adjourned.”

---

You paired a baggy striped winter sweater with a pair of black jeans, tight and fitted to your curvy figure, definitely not going unnoticed by Steve, eyes outlining the curves of hips, thighs, dips, and soft round shapes on your body, plump and attractive. He watches you move to the music Tony blasts on his speakers, night just settling in on the sky and painting it black, sun peaking upon the horizon to say hello. 

Natasha hands you a bottle of beer, condensation coating your hand, sweat there too, but the cold night is seeping in and you shiver, “Thanks,” you smile graciously. 

“Have you... you know-” she demonstrates a crude sexual gesture and you scoff. “With you know yet?”

“I want to tell him I like him first,” you explain, taking a gulp of your liquor and feeling the cool bubble tingle your tongue and throat. “Not just fuck him and be done with it... I want more than that.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m serious, Nat. I really like him and he...” you look at her with begging eyes and she sees that you’re sincere. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” you look at the ground, chuckling dryly, nursing your beer. Your hands heat up, something that happens when you grow nervous, your powers light up, literally, a fight or flight reflex for survival. Except now anxiety from a crush. 

You shake your head, taking a larger sip, “He’s so hot and cold.”

“That can be true, but the ways he looks at you...” she hums. “That can only be described as hot,” she snaps her teeth jokingly and lets out a giggle, officially buzzed. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, getting in the party spirit once again. “He doesn’t-”

Your interrupted when an old friend appears in your view and he waves in your direction, Timothy, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent from your starting days here on Earth with your brothers. He trained you alongside Fury before S.H.I.E.L.D and HYDRA fell, and you turned to the Avengers when they offered you a position alongside Thor. He did, however, have a temper and you and many others were sure Timothy had a crush on you for a long time, your fears of losing your colleague becoming a reality when he asked you out and you had to reject him, because you’d already fallen for Steve. He didn’t take it well at the time and you haven’t spoken since. 

“Hey, Timothy,” you smile warmly, politely, moving to return his embrace, he squeezes you tightly, one hand holding a beer and the other wrapped around your waist. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Tony invited all the old S.H.I.E.L.D members, not the HYDRA ones, of course, but I decided to pop in,” he flashes a grin. “And Fury’s over there cutting up a rug,” he points to where Fury is being taught by Peter Parker how to floss. 

You laugh and force a believable smile, “It’s good to see you.”

He looks you over not-so-subtly, something both you and Natasha catch, “It’s really good to see you, too. I’ve missed you.”

You smile, a little anxious all of a sudden, especially when you begin to smell the liquor on his own breath and how grabby his hands look to become, reaching out to touch your waist. You move his hand away, uneasy.

Natasha frowns and moves to take his hand off of you, “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink there, buddy. Why don’t you go sit down?”

“Maybe you need to sit down, I’m talking to y/n,” he rips his hand back. “Mind your own business, bitch.”

“Talk to me or touch y/n like that again and I’ll break your fucking hand,” she seethes through her teeth and sets down her drink.

Shit, shit, shit.

Steve sees the commotion over everyone else talking and chatting, paying no mind to the altercation between you, Natasha, and Timothy. He catches the look on your face, retreating into yourself as Nat rips him a new one, pointing a finger into his chest. He walks over, pushing his way through friends, all out here on Tony’s terrace, past the grill but people keep stopping to talk, anger brewing in his chest at seeing someone hurt you.

Timothy grabs you by the waist, “Hey, I know it’s been a long time, baby, but I wanna get back to what we had.”

“Let go of me,” you push at his chest. “And don’t call me baby. We didn’t have anything.”

“You rejected me all that time ago,” he says, voice growing louder. “Why?” Natasha rushes off to get Tony to kick him out, knowing she shouldn’t cause a scene even further by hurting him, she had to get Tony. 

“Because I don’t see you like that,” you push at him but he grabs both your wrists as you try to push him away. 

“You’re lying, tell me the real reason.”

“I’m. not. lying,” you say but you know what he wants to hear, your eyes burning with tears. You wish you could your power, light him up, but you can’t, your mind is too preoccupied with the answer to his question and you can’t concentrate. 

“Tell me the truth or I’ll tell him myself, say it,” he grows angrier, pulling you. “Say it!” and using your god like strength, you shove him to the ground at last and flames lick your hands. 

“Because I’m in love with Steve!” 

Just as the music goes quiet for Bucky’s toast to his friend, you catch everyone’s attention, head’s turned towards you and you want to crawl in a hole and get buried up again, to sink into the ground. Your face is hot with eyes on you and you can’t move. Tony and Natasha both look at you from the corner of your eye, unknowing of what to think. 

You’ve said it. Said the damn words out loud and you can’t take them back. You’re breath is heavy and weighs on your chest when you look up. 

Steve is in front of you, looking at you with wide eyes and a deep, questioning look and furrowed brow, chest heaving after he’s heard your confession, surprised. 

Fuck.

“You bitch,” he gets back up and moves to hit you but Steve grabs his hand, forcefully and painfully.

He moves over further and manages to pull Timothy off you completely, hand curled in his shirt with his feet off the ground when he pulls him inches away from his face, “Get the hell out of my party, stay away, and don’t touch her again. Are we clear?” his voice is a deep timbre, a low growl with a warning tone. 

He finally listens and grabs another drink on his way, shooting dirty looks to those who watch him leave and you’re left panting, out of breath with tears staining your cheeks, eyes glassy.

Fury trips him on the way out, “I knew you were trouble.”

You look up at Steve who’s in front of you now, “I-I... I’m sorry I ruined your party, Steve... I’m sorry,” you say when he moves to cup your face in his hands, soothing you with shushes and soft coos, wiping away your tears with his calloused thumbs. “I’m sorry-”

“Doll, you didn’t... he did, I’m sorry he was invited here if I had known...” he curses himself. “I’m so sorry.”

You meet his eyes. Oh, he’s so sweet, he’s so sweet it makes your heart ache.

But the question still remains, lingering over your heads: Now what?

---

You’re in the living room of the compound following the events of the disastrous birthday party, curled up on the couch by yourself as everyone’s gone to bed, snacking on remaining popcorn and watching Friends. Tony had sent everyone home after what happened, which people understood, apologizing to the few other friends that attended and offering goodie bags for coming, stuffed with hundreds of dollars of Stark merchandise for good measure. 

Thor had missed the party to visit Jane after they rekindled their romance since he’s back on Earth, but upon hearing the news of this guy touching his baby sister, he dealt with it in his own Thor way. 

Trashing the guy’s house. 

Then after, you and the team went inside, watched a movie, ate popcorn, and laughed at the crappy, Hallmark Christmas movie until your sides were sore.

But even now that everyone is asleep and in their respective rooms, you couldn’t sleep.

And so couldn’t Cap.

You look up at the sound of a door opening from the terrace, Steve walking inside after getting his nightly moment of fresh air and because he agreed to water Stark’s plants a long time ago, and because Tony is well, Tony, he assigned him that job for the entirety of his stay here, much to Steve’s dismay. 

But sometimes he didn’t mind it, going out there at night and seeing the stars because you’re so far up here, set aside from the rest of the world in this safe little pocket of a home and solace and the benefit of seeing you out there with a drink in hand, getting some time to yourself. You with a robe on, nightgown peaking beneath, hair in it’s natural, messy form, bare face or face mask on, and glowing smile. That made it worth it. 

Now it’s just the two of you after a night of you confessing your feelings for him, not directly to him per say, but he heard it nonetheless and he stood there, choking on his words because he had to get that leech of a man off of you, it wasn’t the time to discuss your feelings.

But unfortunately for the both of you at this moment, you can. 

“Hey,” you say, the word somehow weighing on your lungs when you breath it out, muting the television. 

“Hey,” he says back, smiling to put you at ease. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” you say, scooting over to give him room and patting the spot now open for him. 

He chuckles at your nervous energy and sits down beside you. He scratches the back of his neck, all that suave nature leaving him. Captain America is anxious.

“I feel... like we should talk about what happened and what you said earlier,” he looks at you, the same begging eyes you look at with Nat when you want her to see you were serious. You see it in his too. They’re wide and pouring out from all seams, want and need. 

“We should,” you nod, awaiting the rejection you’ve been preparing for all night. 

“I’m.. so sorry about that guy, I wanted to kill him for what he did to you and what he was trying to do,” he says, visibly getting angrier but you lay a hand on his, soothing him into a relaxed, calm state. 

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “Guys like that come and go, but guys like you who help, stay forever.” 

He looks down at your intertwined fingers, softly comforting each other, smiles, and breathes a laugh, “I should have done more.”

You tilt your head, “You helped and he’s gone and that’s what matters, so thank you. Don’t take that blame.” 

He finally looks at you. “And when you said that thing... I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” he admits, turning so he sees you in the eyes as you turn to look away from him now, not willing to face him fully. “If I had, I would have...”

“Said no sooner?” you laugh but there’s no humor found in it.

“Can you let me finish?” he tilts his head and smiles, lopsided and pretty. 

You look at him as a signal to continue and he takes it, taking on a bit of your nervous energy in his stammering.

“I like you, y/n, I like you so much,” he says, open and out on display for you. You search his face for the lie, the catch in his words, how this’ll twist around to bite you in the ass and turn out to not be true, all some big elaborate lie or scheme. You don’t know what but what he’s saying can’t be true. 

Not you. Not him. 

“And for so long,” he laughs. “I’m such an idiot, I’ve just been so nervous,” he looks you in the eye, so raw and vulnerable. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You’re a flustered, flattered, blushing, blabbering mess.

“But... you... you avoid in me in the halls,” you say, stunned. “Y-you don’t look me in the eye and you don’t talk to me at times, sometimes for days, only when I initiate it, yet you’re always looking at me and around when I’m there a-and...” you blink hard and rapidly, coming to the realization.

“Oh.”

He gulps, embarrassed himself now, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how or if I had a chance with you, you’re brother’s one of my best friends and I-” He looks to you for forgiveness as he tries to muster up what he wants to say. 

You swallow that lump in your throat and duck to kiss the corner of his mouth, that pink curl of lip you love so much when he’s smirking at something you said or just because, and pull away, looking down at your clasped hands, all of you on fire. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, voice low when you look at him through your thick lashes, demure. “I understand.”

His lips part and heavy sighs leave his mouth, cheeks red with lust and heat, eyes full blown to match. 

He ducks down just as you did, looking in your eye and you nod slowly for confirmation, before he catches your lips in a feverish, desperate kiss, moving with your mouth as you slide closer to him with your hand pressed against his hard chest. 

He takes hold of your thighs and pulls into his broad lap, erection potent against your inner thigh already as you straddle him, soft, flustered movements until you find the best position. His eyes hold both complete adoration and magnetism for you, a groan slipping past his perfect pink mouth when you move against his sweet spot of your doing. Your lips press together again and you move in tandem, tongue sliding past and licking his inner lip, like licking a flame, an ember of fire and ash and coal. You taste like summer rain and full promises of more to come, like hope after a long, hard day that things will get better, while also tentative and unsure. 

His large hand slides up under your t-shirt while the other keeps you steady wrapped around your waist, he moves to pinch both nipples, tweaking the erect, pink bud between his fingers and digs his fingers into your side. Sinful mewls escape you as he tilts your head up for access to the expanses of your neck and down, peppering wet, sloppy, rushed kisses to anywhere he can find, a begging, starving man and you’re his only hope of salvation.

“Steve...” you let out, hand dipping down between his legs and he groans, deep and guttural before catching your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging, your fingers threaded in his hair and pulling, and the moans that fall from him make that tight coil in your gut curl within itself, exciting you.

His cock twitches when he solicits a series of whimpers from you, lifting and pulling your shirt off and over your head to suck your nipples into his mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive peaks, and biting, switching between them. His fingers dance down your stomach and snaps the lining of your panties, sliding a single finger into your sex, the two equally heavenly sensations sending you to that fateful, blissful release you crave, and when a second, a third, joins you’re wrecked, moans falling out and you collapse into him as it subsides, lasting longer than any has before and he’s barely doing anything. 

So this is what it should feel like. 

“You were so good, baby,” he kisses your cheek, then your temple, then your neck, your lips, nose, forehead. “So good for me,” he tells you. “Do you want more, doll?” 

“Absolutely.”

[archiesoniconline]

Knuckles Endangered Species #1 Behind the Scenes!

It’s been a while, but it’s finally time for another behind-the-scenes look at one of our stories!  This time we’ll be covering our latest release, as well as the story that had been visualized and started the earliest in our project: Part 1 of the Endangered Species rewrite.

As usual, let’s start with the cover.  Our ex-admin in charge of the entire rewrite, The Shadow Imperator, took inspiration from the covers for Sonic the Hedgehog #211 and 245, as well as an advertisement for Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood.  Pencils, inks and colors were all done by @drawloverlala​, who managed to brilliantly blend all the designs together into something new and exciting.

The story begins immediately where the official #243 left off, with Sonic getting KO’ed by Metal Knuckles.  The robot doppelganger is quick to remind Lien-Da of his mission to monitor her and keep her in line, which is a nod to Sonic Universe #37, where Eggman told his Grandmasters that the Metal Series will be doing just that.

Since Lien-Da is the Grandmaster of her branch of the Dark Egg Legion, we decided her Kommissar should be Gae-Na, her old confidant that hadn’t been seen since StH #118.  She was given a heavy redesign by CrimDa, sporting a more realistic cybernetic eye as well as electric batons similar to Lien-Da’s electric whips.  Her absence up until this point was due to maternity leave, having only recently given birth to her daughter Demi-Na but was left to raise the girl alone after losing her husband Kanewisher to the Egg Grapes.

 You may have noticed that when Gae-Na knocks out Amy, she doesn’t seem particularly pleased about it.  As a mother, she doesn’t relish the idea of fighting children, but will do what it takes to ensure that her daughter can grow up in a stable echidna society, even if it’s a society ruled by Eggman.

For a much more minor echidna cameo, we see the return of Syntar, who hasn’t appeared since being unceremoniously knocked out by a time-traveling Lara-Su in StH #109.  Now a sergeant in Lien-Da’s army, he’s seen leading the Albion prisoners to be legionized... only to be unceremoniously knocked out yet again by Knuckles.  Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess. 

We also see Komi-Ko comforting Bimmy Jr., a young echidna orphan whose father and namesake was tragically killed in the Egg Grapes.  Back in 243 he was only referred to as “young man”, since the legal issues at the time forbade his real name from being mentioned.

Another echidna character given a redesign by CrimDa is Crystal-La, the wife of Athair and Knuckles’ great-grandmother.  We decided to re-purpose her as the Mitre of the Albion Aurorium, in order to bring back of a glimpse of the religious aspects of echidna society that were largely ignored during Ian Flynn’s run of the comic.  Our initial redesign failed to take her significant age into account, so we made her look older in the final story.  Considering the fact that she considers her own great-grandson to be some sort of messiah, it’s easy to see that she’s gone a little kooky in her old age.

You may have noticed that Saffron Bee was also given a new wardrobe, which were actually based off of notes left by Aleah Baker for a redesign of her that was planned in the official comic  ShadImp felt strongly about giving her as big of a role in the rewrite as possible, as was the original intention.

.  

Knuckles using his Warp Ring to attack Syntar was an idea from ShadImp’s co-writer for the remake, TuxKnux.  It was meant to demonstrate how Knuckles has had more practice controlling Chaos Energy, another example of which we’ll see later.    

In order to calm down a terrified Bimmy Jr., Saffron gives him her Nightopian Doll, which hasn’t been seen since all the way back in the Return to Angel Island arc.  Unfortunately, this ended up triggering her PTSD of the destruction of the Golden Hive Colony, as well as Charmy’s brain damage.

This can easily be missed on a first read, but here is when we first see Julie-Su taking a cloak from a defeated Legionnaire, which ends up being important later.

The cuffs binding Team Fighters and Remington were surprisingly difficult to draw, since we needed something that could hold them in place, but also free all of them instantly when deactivated.  In the end, electric shackles powered by a nearby generator seemed like the best solution.

The mural behind Lien-Da, meant to reference the Forgotten Wars, originally had a different design that was scrapped because it didn’t make sense for such a picture to be in Albion.  It was also based off of a cutscene in Sonic Chronicles, during Imperator Ix’s final speech to Knuckles.  Eventually, the original mural design was re-purposed for Emerl’s data file in StHO #249.

This is the first time that Remington and Lien-Da have met since Enerjak��s rampage, so it was important to have the interactions between them be meaningful.  Remington may have suffered greatly during and after his time being the brainwashed Grandmaster of the Frost Legion, as well as being the son of Lien-Da’s hated brother Kragok, but he hasn’t allowed the trauma to diminish his strong sense of justice and has grown as a person because of it.

Although hostages causing a panic among their captors is generally not considered a good idea, Tails dropping the bombshell (no pun intended) that Eggman could blow up the legionnaires at any moment does help upset Lien-Da’s control of the situation, proving instrumental to her defeat later.

At this point in the story, Thrash hasn’t directly made his move yet, but the wheels are clearly in motion.  Originally ShadImp was going to have Thrash’s plan be identical to the official Endangered Species, sending all the echidnas away in a super-charged Warp Ring.  It took him a while to come up with a different plan, one that requires a sample of echidna DNA.  Incidentally, this is also Gae-Na’s only other appearance in the issue, as she was put on patrol duty after the initial battle with Team Fighters.

The showdown between Knuckles and Metal Knuckles may be seen as disappointingly short, but ShadImp made clear that he prioritized meaningful storytelling over elongated fight scenes.  Plus, Knuckles serving only as the distraction while Saffron destroys the robot with a hijacked turret and Julie-Su sneaks off incognito does a good job showcasing that the Chaotix came into the fight much better prepared than Team Fighters.

Also worthy of note is the legionnaire’s dismissive attitude towards Komi-Ko and the other Albionites.  Since about half of the Legion gave up on fighting and accepted Enerjak’s offer to migrate to Albion, it stands to reason that the ones who chose to stay are the most fanatical and loyal to the Legion’s cause.

Another minor echidna cameo is a younger Cobar, who was originally only seen in the 25 Years Later storyline.  At this point in time he’s still a member of the Legion, although his timid nature appears to be unchanged.

As well as demonstrating Remington’s character development, this scene does a good job showing that even the most loyal legionnaires are sick of the pointless wars they’ve fought in.  Lien-Da is the only truly evil person among all of them, and her grasp on them is crumbling rapidly.

As was mentioned earlier, having the disguised Julie-Su destroy the generator powering the shackles was a quick and easy way to get Team Fighters back into the action, as well as converge the two plots occurring simultaneously in this issue.

Having Wynmacher deal the final blow against Lien-Da was both an opportunity to give the non-combatant echidnas a chance to shine, as well as a callback to his very first appearance in Knuckles the Echidna #6, where he performed a similar tackle and mentioned his varsity days.

When Riggo first penciled this panel, he had drawn Kneecaps as more the size of a toddler than an infant, which was corrected in the final story.

This panel was originally going to feature some good old Sonic & Knuckles action, but ended up being only Knuckles using Thunder Arrow.  This is the other example of his improved mastery of Chaos Energy, as unlike the previous Guardians he doesn’t need to be within short range of the Master Emerald to use it.  It’s still not perfect though, as just using it once is shown to tire him out quite a bit. 

Finally, we have Thrash making his grand entrance.  He was originally drawn with an entire pack of Devil Dogs around him, but it’s actually an important plot point that he only has two with him at the moment, so this was changed in the final version.

That’s it for this post, but unlike the other stories, this one was a revision of an even earlier rewrite, one that was started on and scrapped before ASO was even a thing.  Next time, we’ll be going BEHIND behind the scenes at ShadImp’s original Endangered Species remake!

[gallantgautier]

Birthright

ooc: A li’l IC drabble. This is happening in plain sight so if anyone wants their muse to have seen/heard about this, feel free. Just obvs keep in mind the parts that are spoken in hushed voices etc

He’s a full half hour early, and he hates it.

Hates that he can’t escape this, that he can’t just pull a half-baked excuse out of his ass. Couldn’t get out of classes. No, they really were important. Had an important essay to work on. The daughter of a noble family wanted to meet me; don’t you think that’s more important?

He hates that it’s not even that cold – by his standards at least – but his hands won’t stop shaking as he watches the dark, fuzzy blobs in the distance he knows to be horses trek their way up the road to the monastery. Hates that the Crest of Gautier on its red field is clear only because it’s burned into his mind and not that he can make out its barbed shape.

Mostly, he hates that this is happening here, open and exposed at the gates of Garreg Mach. Too many people around, too many classmates he’s offered brittle smiles and waved away with light-hearted jokes that sit like ash in his throat.

Hoofbeats draw closer, clattering on the cobbled road, or maybe it’s the sound of his heart hammering in his ribcage, Sylvain isn’t sure.

More than a handful of times, he’s heard the people of Fearghus likened to lions, proud and powerful, protective and brave. But as Margrave Gautier draws up his mount and slides out of the saddle, handing the reins to one of his men, Sylvain has only ever been able to picture a bear. From the wide set of his shoulders made to look even bigger by the thick furs draped over them, to his long, purposeful stride and fierce, dark, stormy grey eyes under heavy set brows.

The russet shade of his hair is their only obvious similarity, Miklan took more after their father than Sylvain ever did, a fact he’s sure the Margrave has lamented in the past. His eldest, so much like him in so many ways, save for the one that he needed to be.

As the man approaches, Sylvain lowers his gaze, thankful that he now has reason to clasp his hands behind his back, posture stiff, obedient. It helps to keep him from shaking, stops his eyes straying to the unsettling, twitching barbs of the Lance of Ruin fastened upon Gullan’s back. If he keeps his attention upon his shoes, he doesn’t have to notice if anyone passes. Will they stop and stare? Judge him? Ask questions later? Who was that cowed, quiet boy? Where was the boisterous layabout they knew?

“Sylvain.” It’s thunder, or a war drum, his signal – no, permission – to raise his head. Gullan’s arms are held out at his sides, just a little towards him. There’s no affection in the gesture, nor in the quick embrace he steps in into, an act for onlookers, what a meeting between father and son should look like.

“Father,” Sylvain answers, automatic, and steps back into his own space. He draws a careful breath, remembers his etiquette lessons. His voice comes out level, but it’s a practiced, emotionless sound. “The Academy is honoured to host you. Shall I show you around?”

“No need, I know the way.” No doubt, he has business with the Archbishop, and no doubt, Sylvain will only hear as much of it as his father wants him to, no more, no less. “After I meet with Lady Rhea, I expect you to meet with me to further discuss your performance in the mock battle. Over tea, perhaps. I should like to hear your own account, the official report can only tell me so much.”

“Yes father,” is his immediate response. It’s not a suggestion, even if it sounds very much like one, and he’ll expect a meal to go with it, which will go untouched. It’s all for the sake of appearances, not of any genuine desire to spend time with his only remaining son. “Shall I take your cloak?”

“In a moment.” There’s something Sylvain can’t quite decipher in his face, wouldn’t have been able to even if he had been able to hold the Margrave’s gaze. Something guarded, and perhaps… Concerned? It’s so foreign upon his face that Sylvain thinks he imagined it. “First, as you are doubtless already aware, the frequency of bandit attacks in the kingdom has been on the rise, more recently, an attempt was made upon Castle Gautier. While unsuccessful, we later learned that their target was the Hero’s Relic. I’m sure you’ve already drawn your own conclusions as to which group was responsible.”

He remembers fierce, covetous eyes flicking from him to the Lance and back, in time with the dull, deep read pulse of its beating heart. He remembers clenched fists that longed to reach for it and instead blackened his eyes. He remembers a threat sung to him like a promise, maybe I’ll be at the other end when it runs you through, brother.

“Miklan.”

Gullan’s head shifts in the smallest of nods, approval more at the way Sylvain lowers his voice than at his deduction, it’s the closest he’ll get to any form of praise. “Indeed. Skirmishes with Sreng have also been on the rise, all it would take is better timing on his part for him to be successful. We were lucky, I would not rely on such luck a second time.” A pause, a barely there stiffening of the Margrave’s shoulders. “The Relic has been instrumental in our defence of the border, but it will be as good as useless in the hands of bandits. Continuing to house it within Castle Gautier would be folly.”

Sylvain blinks, that would certainly explain the almost-but-not-quite hesitance. No doubt his father thought about this at length, and it’s in no way a decision he would make lightly. He keeps his voice low, head turned to one side, eyes flicking here and there to check for onlookers and eavesdroppers. “That’s why you’re here, then? To entrust the Relic to the Church?”

“No,” Gullan answers, just as quiet. Confused, Sylvain faces him again, and this time he’s met with a familiar gleam. It’s the other similarity they share, the one Sylvain gets during an excellent play on the chessboard, when all the pieces fall into place exactly where he needs them to be. This time, he can’t help but feel he is one of those pieces. “Kneel, Sylvain.”

The Margrave lifts his head, reaching to pull the Lance from his back. A quick glance before dropping to a knee, and Sylvain notes that a few passers by have paused to watch, it’s not every day they get to see a Relic, he supposes. Gullan holds the weapon lengthways across his chest – and Sylvain does his best to ignore the awful twitching – and extends his arms towards him.

“For your bravery in Almyra,” Gullan says, not loud, but solid and clear and definitely audible to the small gathering nearby, much to Sylvain’s chagrin, “and your performance in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, I deem you worthy of the Lance of Ruin.”

So, that’s his play.

“Rise, Sylvain Gautier, and accept your birth right.”

On shaking legs, Sylvain does as commanded, standing straight, shoulders back, and extends his hands palms held skyward. The Lance is pressed into them, and immediately he takes a sharp inhale through his nose in place of the gasp he wants to let out. It’s not as heavy as it looks, perhaps down to his blood that sings in his veins. The thing feels alive in his hands, thrumming like a heartbeat, and he grips it tight enough for his knuckles to whiten in answer. It makes his stomach turn.

“You honour me, father.” He’s relieved that his voice came out clear, rather than the breathless, sickly thing he certainly feels like.

“Guard it well.” The Margrave says, “that will be all for now. I will send word ahead of our later meeting, you are dismissed, Sylvain.”

“Yes father.” He knows better than to hesitate. He dips into a bow and turns, not pausing to chat with anyone who stares as he passes. Not pausing to even look for anyone he might know.

Not pausing to cast one look back over his shoulder, where Margrave Gautier watches his retreating back with a well-guarded sadness in his eyes and an apology that remains unspoken.

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

[Sylvain receives The Lance of Ruin]

[misdre]

Aoki Takao website translations post #1

i come with actual content today, we were discussing the bakuten shoot concept art that aoki has published on his website and there was some really goddamn funny stuff in there that i haven’t seen translated by anyone here so i just started doing it myself. here’s the first three pages where aoki talks about the early manga and stuff. i made these translations pretty fast so the language isn’t super perfect or anything but who cares lbr. texts in square brackets are my own additions. (i’ll translate more later, i got actual things to do today!!)

Preface

"While a manga is in the manuscript phase, it belongs to the author. Once it's become a book, it belongs to the readers." That's always been my philosophy for doing manga. I didn't talk much about Bakuten Shoot Beyblade after the serialization ended in 2004, so I only hoped that the characters would keep living on in the readers' hearts. However, since the RISING sequel was serialized in 2016 in CoroCoro Aniki, and in 2019 it's been 20 years since Beyblade was first serialized, I decided to celebrate the anniversary by showing how it got to the present point and release the character creation stories and concept materials little by little.

- Aoki Takao, 5 May 2018

 Manga Bakuten Shoot Beyblade: Page 1

Preface

In spring 1999, CoroCoro Mikku offered me the opportunity to begin the serialization of a new hobby manga about beigoma spinning tops (beyblades). When I tried playing with the prototype of a beyblade before they were officially launched, I got the image of a martial arts-like sport. I decided to include the spirit of the sports anime I used to watch as a child in the series. A story about a main character who can use cool special powers and grow by fighting against rivals and cultivating friendship with them.

The presentation of Beyblade

Beyblades were officially launched in July, and the serialization started around the same time. I wasn't familiar with the readers of CoroCoro yet, so I had no idea whether they would find the series charming. I created the characters of Beyblade with the thought that I somehow needed to make the readers empathize with spinning tops that are so tiny they fit on the palm of a hand. I used the four Chinese gods of the four directions (Seiryuu, Suzaku, Byakko, Genbu) as a motif and made them into the four holy beasts dwelling in the beyblades, and made it a story about the bladers chosen by them. Like this, the concept of it being a story about four main character boys happened very naturally.

The three characters

Before the manga was planned, there was a promotion for a Game Boy Color game about a Beyblade game as “the next generation of beigomas”. I decided from the beginning that the three characters I designed for the game would also appear in my manga.

(Takao, the protagonist) An energetic and cheerful boy who loves Beyblade. Uses the bey “Ultimate Dragoon”.

(Kai, the rival) The cool leader of a gang named Shell Killers who hates Beyblade. Uses the bey “Frostic Dranzer”. [?? idk if frostic is right?]

(Shippuu no Jin, the mysterious ninja blader) Uses the bey “Saizoo” [??]. There was no image of Jin, so I’m using one I’ve drawn later.

However, the manga serialized on CoroCoro was not a comic version of the game but a completely original work. I got to freely work on the personalities and personal histories of the three characters. Therefore I constructed the world of the comic without paying much attention to the game’s contents and didn’t play the game.

This is the complex explanation behind the main character sharing my own name, “Takao”.

Creating the manga characters

I started from adapting Takao and Kai into the concept of the four holy beasts.

Main Character “Takao”

His bey is Dragoon (carrier of a dragon musket) so his holy beast is Seiryuu. To match the wu xing theory, I decided to make his surname Kinomiya to match the element of wood (“ki”). His personality is very CoroCoro protagonist-like, he’s energetic and cheerful and always tries his best. He loves bey battles. His skills are of high level. He lost his mother when he was very young, and his father and big brother are archaeologists working on excavations and doing research abroad. He lives together with his grandfather from his father’s side.

Rival “Kai”

Since his holy beast is Suzaku, I derived his surname Hiwatari from the element of fire (“hi”). He has a cool personality and his skills are on the same level as the main character’s, or even higher. His family owns a big company. Since the game’s concept of him hating beyblade was very unique, I decided to use it and make the reason behind it his antagonism with his father. (Details about him were the same as in the manga.)

Since he hunts beyblades as an act of revenge, I made the setting such that he has subordinates (the Shell Killers).

Shippuu no Jin

Since I thought it unreasonable to make Jin, who was an adult, a rival of the elementary school kids, I made him Takao’s older brother who watches over his little brother from the shadows. “Jin” is the Chinese reading of the kanji in his name, so I made his real name “Hitoshi”. [hitoshi is the Japanese reading of the same kanji]

Since the bladers of Byakko and Genbu appear much later, they didn’t have character designs yet.

So I created the Beyblade expert “Kyouju” and Takao’s grandfather “Ryuunosuke” next.

Kyouju

He’s Takao’s classmate and a Beyblade researcher. I created him after the image of an elderly university professor.

Kinomiya Ryuunosuke

Takao’s grandfather who lives with him. The master of the Ryuushinken sword.

Story

I wanted the story be like 里見八犬伝 [i have no idea what that is ngl] where the protagonist fights through several rivals, keeps running into legendary bladers, and once all four are present, the story takes a dramatic turn.

Like this the serialization began in 1999, first with a special in the August volume of CoroCoro Mikku and then as a monthly series starting from the September volume.

 Manga Bakuten Shoot Beyblade: Page 2

 Special techniques

When Beyblade began its serialization, I kept in mind that I needed to convey the charm of beys to the readers somehow and wanted to make the battles feel real. However, I struggled with the manga not really getting popular. I felt like, despite trying to convey the realism of how fun and intense the battles were, in practice it didn’t feel the same as it would have in real life, so I decided to take it to a more dramatic direction. I made them use special techniques where the spinning causes tornadoes, flames, thunder and other such unrealistic effects to happen. This is how the special techniques that are now used in the currently serialized RISING originally came to exist.

Max and Rei

I had planned that the bladers of Genbu and Byakko wouldn’t appear until much later, so I hadn’t yet created characters for them when the manga was serialized. However, since Takara Tomy created beyblades for the four holy beasts to fit the manga series, I had to come up with the other two characters.

“Max”

His holy beast is Genbu. From the wu xing element of water (“mizu”), his surname is Mizuhara. He has a cheerful personality and he’s always smiling. I modeled his battle style to rely on defense based on the tough shell of a turtle. (Details about him were the same as in the manga.)

“Rei”

His holy beast is Byakko and wu xing element metal, so I named him Kon Rei [“kon” is one reading for the kanji for metal; also aoki uses the kanji for plum for “rei” here]. He’s Chinese and from a clan of people with fangs. He’s extremely agile and his bey battle skills are top level. Originally I was going to give him a braid, but I settled down with the current style with the image of a tiger’s tail in mind. His personality was such that outside battles he was only going to eat and sleep but having another mute character clashed with Kai, so Rei got more lines little by little. The above pictures are from the beginning, but his design somewhat changed as I drew more of the manga.

Like this, I made Max and Rei appear in the manga a lot earlier than intended to match the release of the parent beys of the four holy beasts.

Manga Bakuten Shoot Beyblade: Page 3

The big four of Shell Killers

“Hiruma Makoto, Tsukuba, Motegi, Suzuka”

These four characters basically appear to emphasize Kai’s strong presence and make him appear stronger. There were originally only going to be one or two of them, but as I doodled character designs at the bottom of the manuscript, I was so pleased with the drawings that I decided to increase their number in the opening scene of the next episode. By the way, in the last volume of the comic (vol 14), Takao’s future child is named Kinomiya Makoto, but the name is not related to Hiruta in any way. I had completely forgotten that I had named Hiruta “Makoto” in the past, so it was my mistake. The names of Tsukuba, Motegi and Suzuka come from race track sports.

 “Mizuhara Tarou”

Max’s father who runs a hobby shop. Back when he first appeared together with Max’s first appearance, I hadn’t yet made any plans concerning his wife (Judy). In RISING I drew him with a smaller beard so he has a somewhat more youthful appearance.

“Daitenji Kogorou”

President of BBA (Beyblade Battle Association). He appears in vol 2 as a representative of the organization in charge of battle tournaments. The image behind his character is a kind old man who watches over the young blader boys and girls. The model of his design is detective Hercule Poirot as played by the famous actor David Suchet in the British television series “Agatha Christie’s Poirot” in 1998—2013. I loved the way Suchet’s Poirot was playful while overflowing with kindness, so I used him as reference. By the way, the name Kogorou is also linked to the detective theme and was derived from 明智. [no i don’t know who that is either]

“Hiwatari Souichirou”

Kai’s grandfather. The chairman and director of the Hiwatari Enterprise, he’s not only a dictator of the company but also has a dominant attitude toward his family. He’s an important character regarding the discord between Kai and his father (Susumu). He’s not modeled after anyone in particular, but the name Souichirou is from the founder of Honda, the car-making company.

Bit chip characters

In 2000, the line-up of Beyblade toys was expanded with lots of new products. I was requested by Takara Tomy to design more characters for them. I had no plans to include them in the manga, so they became bit chip characters rather than holy beasts.

Design concept for “Mechanical Seiryuu”. Regarding the number of its claws, Takao’s Seiryuu is designed after the imperial dragon with five claws, so I gave this one three to make a difference. I later used it as a bit chip character in the model used by Shippuu no Jin, Metal Dragoon.

“Armed Dragoon, Dranzer, Draciel, Driger”

I was requested to design armed versions of the four holy beasts. I also didn’t have any plans to include them in the manga, so they are bit chip characters only. They have been used in video games.

[angel-with-a-pipette]

Title: Same Stance

Summary: “Speaking of the fight, I finally solved the mystery.”

Donald eyed Lea critically.

“What mystery?”

“The mystery of why Kairi's fighting stance seemed so familiar to me! Come on, don't tell me you haven't realized?” Lea's grin widened. “Our Princess here is totally copying her Prince!”

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Genre: Romance

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney/Square Enix. This fanfic is for @phoenix-downer . She helped me come up with the idea and was so supportive of this and I can't thank her enough that she's been keeping my sane during my KH3-trailer hiatus. Without her, I would have caved in and watched all the footage, so once again thank you so much ♥ I hope you like it!

I took some creative liberty in naming Lea's Keyblade “Flurry of Flames”. At this point in time, I am not aware of his Keyblade's official name and if I don't forget it, I'll edit the name once it's been revealed in Kingdom Hearts 3!

This was also written for the @kh3countdownchallenge , prompt 17: Discovery

Also available on: ao3 

Please enjoy!

Rougher than usual, the gummi ship finally touched down on Radiant Garden’s brickwork and Sora barely turned off the engine before he stormed out of the ship.

“Sora, wait!”

But he didn't even think about waiting.

“Come on,” he yelled in response, skipping backwards to look at Donald before turning around again, “hurry up!”

“‘Hurry up’?!” Donald imitated him incredulously, quickly flicking his staff in the direction of the gummi ship to hide it before he took off after Sora, “I’ll show you 'hurry up’! Get back here now!”

“Gawrsh, Donald, don’t be so hard on Sora. He’s just excited to finally see Kairi again!”

Heat rose into Sora's face and he managed to stumble over his right foot, resulting in him flailing his arms around desperately to regain his balance. Donald's following snicker didn't make it better and now with a beet-red face, Sora ran off even faster, ignoring the indignant quacks behind him.

By the time he finally reached the Borough and ran down the street leading to Merlin's house, he was severely out of breath, but Sora knew it had nothing to do with his sprint. No, it had everything to do with the way his heart was beating fast in anticipation of seeing Kairi again.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was dying to see her again. Ever since he had seen her own addition to their cave drawing, he was giddy to talk to her about it, but somehow, he had never managed to find the right moment: Either his parents had wanted to make up for lost time, his teachers had wanted to talk about school and his future or his friends had wanted to know what he and Riku had been up to, effectively destroying any possibility for Sora to catch a moment with Kairi alone despite Riku's best attempts to draw the attention to himself – something the boy avoided doing normally – just to help Sora out.

And then the King's letter had arrived and he was forced to leave once again and the right moment passed once more.

So the least he could do is see her again and hope for the best, right?

Wrong, judging by the bothersome Heartless that materialized in front of his path.

“Come on!” Sora grumbled through his teeth as he jumped back and summoned his Keyblade with a flick of his wrist. “I don't have time for this!”

Without hesitation, Sora jumped into the fight, slashing through some of the Heartless before Donald and Goofy caught up with him. Together, they tried to keep the Heartless at bay, but...

“What is goin' on?” Goofy asked, parrying a Shadow's attack with his shield and clubbing another one over the head. “How are there so many?”

“Even the Claymores can barely keep up,” Donald grumbled angrily as he summoned a Thunder attack to take out several Heartless at once, “we need to get to the Restoration Committee, quick!”

“But how?” Sora countered, spinning around to get rid of at least one ring of Heartless that was surrounding him. “We're not making any progress! For every Heartless we defeat, two more appear!” He quickly raised his Keyblade up in defense when a Soldier Heartless tried to jump on him, but to his surprise, a beam of Light defeated it before it managed to touch him.

Confused, Sora looked at Donald who shrugged his shoulders. Then he jumped up in surprise and pointed past Sora.

“Look! Up there!”

Sora turned around and followed Donald's outstretched arm until his eyes fell on two figures standing on the outer wall of the city, Keyblades drawn and hoods covering their heads.

His heart picked up its pace again.

He knew these Keyblades. The taller person's Keyblade resembling a flame was Flurry of Flames, Lea's Keyblade. The short person's Keyblade, adorned with flowers and a paopu fruit as its Keychain –

“See?” Sora's eyes widened upon hearing the sassy, familiar voice and he felt his heart jump into his throat as he saw the figure reach for their hood and lower it slowly. Short red hair, blue eyes with a hint of violet in them, thick, dark eyelashes, button nose, pink lips curled up between a smile and grin.

Kairi! Kairi's here!

“I told you Sora's completely helpless without Riku and me,” she added with a softer voice as she looked him straight into the eyes, her own sparkling with mischief and excitement.

Oh dear. Oh no. No, no, no.

She looked so cute.

“Enough flirting, Princess.”

Lea lowered his hood as well and shook his wild hair before propping up his Keyblade on his shoulder. “Let's get to the rescue!”

As much as Sora tried not to stare, his eyes were glued to Kairi's form as she jumped down, gracefully landing a few meters away from him. She gripped her Keyblade tightly with both of her hands and her face grew serious at once ans she bent her knees slightly to assume a fighting stance. She charged forward and two-handedly crushed her Keyblade into her enemy. Not wasting a single second, she switched to wielding her Keyblade with her right arm only, slashing at a Shadow trying to grab her shoulder before she twirled around, defeating the Heartless closing in on her with one sweep.

Sora swallowed. He had had no idea that Kairi was this graceful, but there she was, running from enemy to enemy, raising her Keyblade, parrying attacks, jumping and cartwheeling one-handed(!!) out of the way, her now short hair sticking cutely to her face. And if that wasn't enough already, there was also her new outfit: Staying true to her color scheme, Kairi was wearing a pink dress with pleats and ruffles that curled and swept around her thighs every time she turned, allowing her to move freely to kick some Heartless butt.

Was it just him or did the sun suddenly start to burn down on his neck?

“Hey Romeo.”

A gloved hand pushed his jaw up close. When had it slackened in the first place?!

“Less staring, more fighting. You can ogle your Princess once we're done here.”

Sora sputtered a little indignantly while Donald and Goofy broke out in snickers.

“I did not,” he growled, but took a deep, calming breath as he raised his Keyblade again. That helped clear the hormone-driven haze in his head, especially when a Neo Shadow tried to attack Kairi from behind. He quickly dashed forward to slash the Heartless away just a blink of a second before Kairi turned around.

“Thank you,” she breathed and a goofy smile spread on Sora's face.

“You're welcome.”

Sora got back into his fighting stance and felt Kairi do the same at his side. They nodded at each other shortly and charged forward, plowing through the horde of Heartless much quicker now that there were five of them. But not only that – he realized how exhilarating it was to have Kairi fight at his side! The two of them immediately clicked and attacked the Heartless in perfect harmony, boosting and defending the other without the need to communicate verbally. Sora stepped to the right, Kairi jumped to the left, their Keyblades slashing at the same enemies without ever hindering the other's movement.

Just when they finally reached Merlin's doorstep, Kairi backed off again. Sora reacted immediately and tried grasping her arm to hold onto her, but she was too quick for him and ran to the middle of the small square.

“Kairi!”

She just winked at him cheekily and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Jumping and twisting her body around at the same time as using the spell “Light!”, tiny balls of light appeared around Kairi's body, growing in size and quickly spreading over the whole borough while she smoothly landed on her feet again.

“Every light attack gives us roughly five seconds before they materialize again,” Lea explained, pushing up Sora's jaw once again before pushing at his and Goofy's shoulders, “so go inside, quick, they can't track us in there!”

Instead of going inside, Sora ducked away and reached for the door, earning him a stern glance by Lea and an offended quack by Donald who he hand nearly stepped on. But Sora ignored both, his eyes focused on Kairi who came running at him and managed to slip inside before new Heartless materialized. Sora quickly pulled the door close and turned back to the others – only to realize that Kairi hadn't moved and stood closer to him than he anticipated, making his mouth run dry.

“Hey.”

Kairi grinned and looked at him shyly from under her lashes, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her dress.

“Hey,” Sora replied in a low voice, drawing closer to her without noticing. Both breathed heavily, their chest heaving with exertion, but Sora doubted it was purely the result of the Heartless attack.

And since when did he tower over her like that?

A loud 'harrumph' broke the spell between Sora and Kairi and they immediately jumped apart. Sora's face heated up once he realized just how close he had been standing to her.

“What is going on? Why are there so many Heartless around?”

That finally managed to distract Sora from admiring his childhood friend and to focus back on the world order – or what was left of it.

“You know how it is,” Lea started explaining, shrugging his shoulders, “they're after people's hearts and seek out Keyblade wielders. There are currently two Keyblade wielders residing in Radiant Garden, so they're drawn to this place more than before.”

“And if that ain't enough,” Cid grumbled and it was only now that Sora noticed he was even present, “our little Kairi's a Princess of Heart and that alone lures 'em in like crazy. Add a Keyblade Master to the mix and they're havin' a party.”

“So what does that mean for us?” Goofy asked and exchanged a concerned look with Donald.

“Most of all it means that our love birds here,” he nodded towards Sora and Kairi, but Kairi was quick to jab her elbow into his side, making him yelp and glare at her, “aren't allowed to be outside together. In different parts of the city, yes, but,” he walked around the table, putting a considerable distance between him and Kairi, “no dating. At least not until the Claymores have been updated. Cid and Tron are working on them, but they couldn't put the finishing touches on them yet.”

“We should be makin' considerable progress,” Cid remarked, typing away on the huge keyboard in front of him. “Now that we have data on how the Heartless react to a Keyblade Master, we can adjust the Claymores' strength. We can't have them potentially hurting civilians after all. Give me ten minutes and I'll have the new program ready! Get cozy over there.”

Cid waved them off, gesturing to the part of the room that held all of Merlin's furniture and Donald immediately waddled off to jump on one of the wooden chairs. The others followed him, with Lea and Goofy taking the remaining two chairs, leaving Kairi and Sora to sit on Merlin's bed.

“Sooo,” Lea started and propped his arms up on the back of his chair before throwing a suggestive glance over to Sora, “what do you think?”

Sora knitted his eyebrows together in suspicion.

“About what?”

“About Kairi's outfit of course!”

Heat shot back into Sora's head and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that one of his hand resting on the bed was brushing against Kairi's dress.

“Yes!” Kairi chimed in and jumped up, clapping her hands together. “What do you say? The three Good Fairies made this for me!” She gripped the hem of her dress and twirled around twice with a giggle.

“What do you think?”

“I think you're beautiful.”

Kairi's jaw dropped and her cheeks flushed prettily. He stood up and was about to take her hands, dying to pour his heart out to her, when he suddenly grew very aware of three pairs of eyes staring at them. He panicked.

“B-Beautifully prepared!” Sora squeaked out, an octave higher than usual. “Prepared for the fight! You fight good!”

Sora slapped his hands against his face and let himself fall back on the bed, groaning in frustration.

Smooth, Sora. Really smooth.

But Kairi just giggled softly and he felt the bed dip again before she gently pulled his hands away from his face with a wink.

“I think you fight good, too.”

“Speaking of the fight – ”

Kairi let go of Sora's hands immediately and it took every ounce of Sora's self control not to growl at Lea in annoyance, so instead, he did what he did best: He pouted.

“– I finally solved the mystery.”

Donald eyed Lea critically.

“What mystery?”

“The mystery of why Kairi's fighting stance seemed so familiar to me! Come on, don't tell me you haven't realized?” Lea's grin widened. “Our Princess here is totally copying her Prince!”

Sora whipped his head around to face Kairi. She decidedly avoided his eyes as the tips of her ears that peaked out of her hair turned pink.

“You're copying me?” Sora asked quietly, incredulously. But now that he considered it... the way she held her Keyblade and bent her knees... that was the way he did it, right? He wasn't imagining it? That was why fighting together with her was so easy, second nature even! Of course they didn't need to communicate because they moved similarly.

“Lea!”

All five heads turned around to Cid who stared at them grumpily. “Stop torturin' the poor kids and move your butt over here, will ya? And bring Donald and Goofy along, too.”

“Come on, right when it starts to be interesting,” Lea mumbled, but left them alone nevertheless, Goofy and Donald right on his tail after they winked at Sora encouragingly. Sora took a deep breath and turned back to Kairi who now grasped the hem of her skirt tightly.

“Is it true?”

“I tried a different style in the beginning, focused more on blunt force like Lea, but it didn't work out for me. I kept hurting myself and I don't have the physical advantage to pull it off. Merlin focuses more on magic and while I excelled in it, I couldn't get the hang of my Keyblade technique. I was really starting to doubt myself, thinking I'm not cut to be a Keyblade Wielder.”

She looked up at him again and the intensity in her eyes made Sora shiver.

“You suddenly popped into my head.” A grin spread over her lips. “You and and that stupid, happy smile of yours! And the thought of you comforted me. After all, I was doing all of this to finally join you on your quest, to help you and Riku. So I kept thinking about you, about how you wielded your Keyblade, about the way you dodge attacks.” Her cheeks turned pink again. “And I tried to imitate you. And surprisingly, it worked really well. I got the hang of it pretty quickly and soon, Axel had to suffer his first loss in a sparring match all thanks to you! Thank you, Sora.”

Sora felt his own cheeks flush slightly and rubbed his nose in embarrassment.

“Well, I guess that means you don't think I'm a lazy bum any more, huh?”

The color drained from Kairi's face as she stared at him in shock. Sora furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“You know that I'm not serious about this, right?” Kairi asked instead, her eyes full of worry. “You know I'm just saying it to tease you?”

“Sure, I –“

“You're not a lazy bum,” Kairi interrupted him. “You're not hopeless without us. You saved the worlds twice already and if worst came to worst, I don't have a single doubt you'd manage to do it a third time. You're amazing Sora. I'm proud of you and I admire you.”

Suddenly, she was much closer to him than he had anticipated. Suddenly, her knee was pressed against his and her upper body was completely turned towards him. Thanks to their height difference, Kairi had to crane her neck up to look at Sora and Sora looked down at Kairi, at her half-lidded eyes and her slightly parted lips that took Sora's breath away.

“You inspire me every day, Sora,” Kairi murmured, just loud enough for Sora to hear when he bent his neck a little, drawing closer and closer to her. “You're the one who keeps me going.”

Sora closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard to concentrate with such an overload to his senses: She was close enough for Sora to feel the warmth radiating from her, close enough for her breath to fan against his face with just a hint of mint in it, close enough for Sora to hear the shallow breaths she was taking to what he assumed was calm her heart beat – because he knew, his own heart was about to burst out of his chest.

Close enough to wonder about the taste of those tantalizing lips that she just had to lick at this exact moment. Goosebumps spread over his body as he touched her cheek with a trembling hand.

“Kairi...”

“Done!”

Sora pulled his hand away as if he had been burned and slid all the way up to the headboard while Kairi slid to the opposite site of the bed.

“This update should do it. With this, the Claymores will adjust to the new amount of Heartless loiterin' around.”

Cid continued to ramble on, but Sora didn't listen. All he could focus on were Kairi's eyes and the fire in them. The same fire that he knew was in his eyes.

“Earth to Sora!”

“Ahyuck!”

“What?!”

“Don't 'What' us!” Donald chided him, waving his feathery hand around in his face. “Don't forget your manners just because of your hormones! That's 'Excuse me' for you!”

Rolling his eyes, Sora defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Fine. 'Excuse me?'” Donald nodded appreciatively, until Sora followed up with a blunt “what” which made the mage glower at him.

“Cid asked us to deliver this to Leon and Tron!” Goofy explained and tugged gently at Sora's hand, pulling him off of the bed to shove him in direction of the door.

“Wait! But what about Kairi-?”

“Nothing about Kairi, she's staying here. Geez, have you already forgotten why you're even delivering this disc to Leon?” Lea shook his head. “Let him install the program and update the Claymores, then you can take Kairi wherever you want outside of training hours. But right now, having a Keyblade Master and a Keyblade wielding Princess of Heart outside at the same time will attract the Heartless like crazy.”

Sora slumped his shoulders until he heard Kairi's giggle.

“I'll see you later, okay?” She asked him and Sora nodded frantically in agreement which made the grin on her lips widen.

Waving one last time at Kairi before Donald and Goofy shoved him out of the door with combined efforts, Sora left Merlin's house, slipped the disc with the update program into his pocket and ran off. He couldn't wait to get Leon to install the program as quickly as possible so he could return to the Borough.

You're the one who keeps me going, too, Kairi.

[athyrabunlord]

LLSHP AU (S) - First Task

Main Story: [LLSHP AU - Yoshiko Tsushima and the Fallen Angel]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] [Pixiv Link] [Translated to Chinese by plin2290]

Sequel blips: TriWizard Tournament series- [First Task] [Yule Ball]

A/N: As per twitter vote from a while ago, I’m starting with a blip in the SequelTimeline (hence the (S) behind the usual tag of LLSHP AU). This is part of the TriWizard Tournament series. I’ll try to keep them as consequential as possible, but the blips’ might be all over the place depending on my muse. We’ll see XD;

Note: This blip takes place a year after ch21 of the MainStory, meaning chikayouriko are FifthYears and yoshimaruby are ThirdYears.

“The Beauxbaton champion has drawn the Ukrainian Ironbelly.”

Ruby Kurosawa could barely hear the noise outside the tent. Everything is muffled except for the pounding of her terrified heart. The Hogwarts uniform has never felt so heavy, so suffocating on her body, and she has to loosen her scarf a bit just to breathe a little better.

Shizuku Osaka gives them a graceful courtesy and holds up the miniature Dragon for the officials’ view one more time. Before it could breathe fire like its real-life counterpart, a swift but powerful Freezing Charm tames the replica, which she then affixes onto her brooch like an ornament.

Composed and elegant, the black-haired Beauxbaton champion is just as what her school is known for.

“Please proceed.”

Leah Kazuno calmly takes a step forward and reaches into the bag to draw her opponent. The petite but imposing Durmstrang champion remains unfazed even as she reveals the miniature creature in her palm for the officials to see. The leopard-like beast has a body full of spikes akin to a cactus, and it is growling warily with its intelligent eyes glancing at its surroundings.

“The Durmstrang champion has drawn the Nundu.”

Ruby swallows hard. That’s another dangerous level-5 magical creature, one that requires teams of highly qualified wizards and witches to subdue! Just how insane is this TriWizard Tournament?!

While she is on the verge of hyperventilating, Leah taps the replica with her wand, stilling its movement through a non-verbal petrificus totalus. Scoffing, she coolly gives it back to one of the officials before smoothly healing her prickled hand.

Fearless and professional, the sharp-eyed Durmstrang champion is every inch the representative of her school.

“Please proceed.”

Ruby tries not to flinch as she places her hand on the hilt of the Kurosawa heirloom, desperate to rein in her composure. After one deep breath, she approaches the official and shakily reaches into the bag. A sharp sting almost makes her drop the miniature beast but she perseveres and holds it up high.

She blanches at the growling replica in her palm.

A human-like head, a lion’s body and a scorpion’s tail. It’s unmistakable what she has to face in the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament.

“The Hogwarts champion has drawn the Manticore.”

Her heart plummets and with it, strangely, so does her fear. A peculiar sense of numbness washes over her, a resigned sort of acceptance that this is her fate and she must overcome it. She glances down at her hand, where the miniature Manticore’s stinger had pierced her palm. The sight of blood, no matter how little, still makes her stomach churn, though it also boosts her confidence.

She had bled way more before, and she lived. She can and will do this. As if sensing her grim resolve, the replica grins up at her before hopping back into the bag.

The Minister of Magic clears his throat, garnering everyone’s attention, though she has difficulty concentrating on his speech. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Professor Koizumi gazing at her with concern, and so she stands up a little straighter and holds up her chin high. She will do her Head of the House proud.

“... that said, we understand these three creatures are highly dangerous and could not be subdued even by teams of trained Hit-wizards under normal circumstances. Therefore, these beasts were specially selected by our Board and collaborators. A warrior from the Goblin Nation, Arkus, has graciously offered his help should it be necessary to stop the Ukrainian Ironbelly.”

At this, a scarred and bearded Goblin bows brusquely, his stance just as regal and intimidating as the massive battle axe he is holding. Perhaps it is ingrained in her upbringing through the Patriarch’s lectures, for Ruby innately feels respect as well as wariness towards the small humanoid.

“And Mr. Scamander will also be on the standby to tame his Nundu, which he has kindly provided for this Tournament.”

Ruby nods at the amiable wizard, whom she has met a few times at the Estate as the Patriarch’s valued guest. Kanan and Mari have talked about him as well, having traveled around the world with the famous Magizoologist a few times last year.

“Last but not least, Professor Toujou of Hogwarts has already negotiated with the chosen Manticore, and the beast has agreed to act only within the rules of this Tournament.”

The ever-enigmatic Head of Ravenclaw gives Ruby an encouraging wink then, prompting her to smile back in relief. Everything seems to be well under control. While the Tournament is known to have caused deaths in the past, surely this one would be all okay with the way the Board arranged for various scenarios.

The officials then exit the tent with the Beauxbaton champion to debrief her, and the remaining adults follow suit to prepare the arena as well. Ruby suddenly finds herself alone with the scowling Durmstrang champion.

“How fortunate you are, Kurosawa heiress. I bet your Professor has already made a special deal for you to win.”

Leah’s expression is blank, her eyes carefully guarded, but her voice is as vicious as poison. Ruby turns to face her peer and she is vaguely aware that her legs are no longer shaking.

“No. She trusts me, and I trust her. Hogwarts will never resort to cheating.”

“Then what was that look of relief on your face?”

“Knowing that there wouldn’t be any casualties among the bystanders.”

Leah’s expression darkens. “Is that all? Aren’t you scared? I saw you shivering like a pathetic rabbit since the moment you entered the tent. You don’t belong here. You should forfeit, for your own good.”

“I’m scared, very scared.” Ruby couldn’t help but smile at the tremor in her voice. She really hasn’t changed much over the years, but she is also proud to acknowledge that she has become stronger too. “But I will not run away. The Goblet of Fire chose me for a reason. Thanks for being worried about me though.”

“You wish. I just don’t want you to ruin the prestige of this Tournament.” Leah snarls, her stance rigid and proud. “Think of the mess if there’s already death in the First Task.”

“Of course, I don’t want to die either,” Ruby’s grip tightens on the hilt of the sabre. “I… I’m scared of pain, I can’t handle it, but I know I can face death if things were to reach that point.”

“Oh?” Leah’s demeanor loosens slightly, as if she hasn’t expected such response.

“I’ve already faced it before.” The faint pink scars from sectumsempra are visible reminders of what she had experienced on that terrible night, but compared to what her precious friends and family have endured back then, this Tournament should be within her ability to handle.

She, Ruby Kurosawa, is Hogwarts’ champion after all.

========================

Judging from all the gasps, cheers and applause outside the tent, Ruby is certain that Leah has succeeded in her Task just as Shizuku had. Both champions did not take more than ten minutes to achieve their objective, which is to retrieve a wooden box that their respective opponent is guarding. Each of them is only allowed to cast five spells, whether it be a Charm, Curse, Hex and so on, and the box can only be moved through actual contact, not by magic. It is meant to test the champion’s resourcefulness, wit and raw magical power, as well as their physical abilities.

Ruby has no plan whatsoever.

Her knowledge of the Manticore is limited to what she has studied in her family library. All those articles talk of how extremely dangerous the violent magical beast is, of how its magically resilient skin render wizards’ spells useless and thus there have only been one or two recorded triumphs against such creature. How is she, a mere Third-Year, supposed to get past the Manticore’s guard?

She stares hard at her wand, hoping to draw strength and guidance from the Holly and dragon heartstring core. She wishes for her friends and her sister to be with her right now, instead of being in this tent alone with her paranoid mind. To be fair for each school, no one is permitted to make contact with the champion, not even their respective Headmaster. Earlier, Chika and You have already tried to sneaked in but were quickly dragged away by their House Head before the officials noticed.

Ruby would have welcomed the Gryffindor duo’s presence. Her bravado earlier has faded enough for the small critter part to emerge, causing her thoughts to sink deeper to the pessimistic end as the clock ticks by. It’s not because she doesn’t believe in her own strength but more because of the countless scenarios against such a terrifying opponent.  She does enjoy the thrill of challenges to an extent, perhaps due to the duo’s influence over the years, so she tries to focus on that positive thought.

“Hogwarts’ champion, please enter the arena.”

Whimpering, Ruby wipes at her damp eyes one last time before standing up. With every step she takes, the fear is gradually left behind and that sense of numbness has returned once more. There is no running away now.

A thunderous cheer greets her as soon as she enters the Pit, which has been modified to accommodate the spectators and the Task. A quick glance reassures Ruby that various officials are stationed around the arena, especially for the guest section to ensure safety. Whatever happens between her and the Manticore will not affect the innocents.

When she walks past the student bleachers, she waves bashfully at the applauding Ravenclaws and searches the crowd for her future sister-in-law. She soon finds Riko and relaxes under her encouraging smile. The House of Hufflepuff is deafening in their cheers with, surprisingly, Professor Koizumi and Hanamaru being the loudest. Ruby could feel her ears burning, half embarrassed but half elated as well at such display of support from her best friend and Head of House.

As if not wanting to lose, Chika and You lead the Gryffindor section in the cheers with their flamboyant banners and Charmed fireworks. It’s over the top, really, but also so very like them. Ruby couldn’t but wave back just as energetically at the Head Girl and the Quidditch star. Passing shadows overhead prompt her to look up and smile at Pana and Lucifer. The two familiars are gliding and circling to keep with her pace, as if to act as her escorts. Fiery words of encouragement soar through the sky after them, providing entertainment for the onlookers. Ruby doesn’t have to glance at the Slytherin section to know that it is Yoshiko’s work, though her peers must have pitched in to help her control this Charm in order for it to work on such grand scale.

By the time Ruby reaches the Professors’ bleachers, she is smiling not just to reassure her friends but also out of genuine joy and love for them and her school. The Hogwarts staff are also clapping politely, some more exuberantly than the others. Dia looks tense but she is smiling as well, with a familiar golden cat draped on her shoulder and a large wolf head peering over the seat beside her. Kanan and Mari must have pretended to be Dia’s pets to sneak into this guest section. At Ruby’s hesitant wave, Kanan howls loudly and Mari swishes her tail like a flag, prompting Dia to frown and tug at her friends’ ears. Undeterred, the married couple continue to make a lot of noise and motions, making Dia sigh in exasperation.

The familiar comical interaction loosens Ruby enough for her to remember to bow in front of the Kurosawa Patriarch and her parents. The old austere wizard is not smiling and only gives her a brusque nod, but those who know him well can see the fierce pride in his eyes.

Shizuku seems amused at the lively display at her entrance, while Leah is wearing the darkest scowl ever. Both champions look disheveled, with Shizuku’s hair ribbon somewhat singed and Leah’s cloak having claw-shaped rips, but at least they appear mostly unharmed.

Ruby allows a quiet sigh of relief to slip past her lips. Her fellow champions made it through and there are no injured spectators. She nods at the panel of referees and the official standing just at the edge of the arena.

“Are you ready?”

With one brisk turn, she takes out her wand and takes one step inside the field of boulders and rocks. A cool brush of magic indicates that a powerful protective shroud must have been activated, keeping both combatants trapped within the arena as well as to shield the audience. At this point, all Ruby could hear are her quickened heartbeats and the sinister rumbling from the enormous beast at the other end of the modified Pit.

The Manticore is grisly to look at, like a creative project gone horribly wrong. Whereas the Sphinx appears majestic despite having a human head and the body of a lion, the Manticore is like a mutated and bloodthirsty version due to its wild mane and rows of sharp fangs. Its scorpion stinger tail is poised high in warning as it paces back and forth in front of the wooden box, her objective. Its powerful paws make heavy sounds on the gravel, its predatory eyes trained on her the moment she entered.

“So this is what I’m up against, a little rabbit,” the sentient creature’s voice sounds disturbingly human without any hint of a growl. “Ladies first then, so the show won’t be over too quickly.”

The insult almost makes Ruby smile in bittersweet nostalgia. Everyone tend to underestimate her and for the longest time, she had believed their evaluation to be true.

Not anymore. I’m not strong, but I’m not weak either. She could feel magic flowing steadily between her hand and her wand.

“I’m ready.” She tells the official without glancing at him. A hush falls over the arena but she could barely feel the eyes watching for. The Manticore is grinning at her, slowly licking its lips. A vague plan forms in her mind and she exhales deeply.

As soon as the wizard signals the start of her first Task, she raises her wand and shouts. “Expecto patronum!”

The amused beast barely moves even as the silver black jaguar snarls at it, an empty threat due to its intangible form. In spite of the confused murmurs in the background, Ruby finds herself smiling as the sight of her Patronus boosts her confidence. She is no longer alone in facing this terrifying monster.

“Wingardium leviosa!”

The huge boulders tremble from the Levitation Charm but only the medium-sized rocks actually float towards the center. The Manticore remains unfazed, even yawning tauntingly at the gradually increasing number of rocks gathering in the middle. Ruby keeps her arm steady in spite of the strain of such area spell and pours forth even more magic.

“Accio!”

Her third chosen spell summons the Kurosawa heirloom from outside the arena and she directs it towards the growing rock pile. The Manticore tenses at last, growling in anticipation and pawing at the ground. Just as the creature begins to run, Ruby yelps a string of incantations, moving her wand in sharp jabs.

The fourth and fifth spell is a combination of an advanced Transfiguration and a Charm, developed by You and herself under Professor Minami’s supervision. Ruby almost buckles from the strain of magical output but perseveres, willing and shaping the rocks into the image in her mind while the sabre acts as a focal point.

Rocks gather and morph around the the sabre, forming a long tail that eventually connects to a massive body with four limbs and an armored head.

Gasps and shouts could be heard from the audience and the Manticore stops abruptly, wary of the animated shape blocking its path. The grotesque replica raises its rocky tail, the sabre’s blade glinting under the sunlight, and lunges at its living counterpart.

Its movements are awkward and jerky but there is undeniable power behind each of its pounding footsteps. The real Manticore laughs haughtily when it tries to swerve around the slower clone and almost got slashed by its surprisingly fast tail. The two creatures crash into each other soon after, tearing and biting and gouging with the scorpion tail. The Manticore is undeterred by its opponent’s body of rocks, clawing and digging through the cracks, breaking the Transfigured creature from raw strength alone. For such a gigantic beast, it is nimble and agile, cleverly dodging the Kurosawa sabre instead of parrying it, knowing the blade would injure it whereas no magic could.

Ruby shivers instinctively from all that noise of the savage fight, though she manages to force her legs to move. She runs towards the boulders, ducking for cover when she hears a snarl rather close by. Worse comes to worst, she still has her wand to protect herself even though it meant being disqualified for using more than five spells. She could vaguely feel the tug of her magic animating the replica and, with a pained grunt, she increases the output towards her creation and wills it to endure the assault longer.

As soon as the boosted Transfigured beast collides against the Manticore, she dashes towards the end of the field. Many times she is tempted to look over the shoulder, to see if the monstrous creature is chasing her, to check if her creation is still standing, but flight mode is commanding her action and all she could to do is keep going.

Almost there.

Her lungs burn from the exertion and her throat aches from the screams she keeps fighting down.

Right there, on that patch of grass.

She almost stumbles at the abrupt cut of magic, indicating that her stone creation is no more.

She dives for the wooden box, tucking and rolling, just in time to dodge the Manticore’s tail slash. Panting, she glares up in defiance at the grinning beast. Its mane is wilder than before, covered in rubble that is doubtlessly from when it obliterated the replica, and its magically immune skin is unmarred by any of the replica’s attacks.

Ruby rolls to the side just as its massive paw comes down on her, sprinkling dust and causing the ground to quake under the force. Before it could pounce upon her though, a silver silhouette leaps in front of her protectively.

Startled, the Manticore could only stare at the proud black jaguar Patronus, which shimmers brightly under its caster’s fearless gaze. The stalemate lasts for a while but neither side relents. Ruby barely dares to breathe, her wand not raised but gripped tightly and ready for action.

“… it cannot attack me. I can just jump through it and rip your throat out,” the Manticore’s fanged grin widens when Ruby glares back even as her legs begin to tremble. “Yet, I find myself unable to move in awe of its power.”

From the corner of her vision, she notices the officials and Professor Toujou already on the standby. Ruby’s friends are all at the edge of the arena as well, blocked by the shield but their wands already poised for action.

The announcer takes a step forward and speaks firmly. “The champion has already acquired the wooden box.”

”Silence, human. You don’t look tasty, but you’ll do.” The Manticore sits down on its haunches and growls menacingly at the wizard who dares to point his wand at it. Professor Toujou clears her throat, prompting the Manticore to relax slightly and roll its eyes. “I know I know, don’t harangue me, Nozomi.”

Ruby blinks when the beast suddenly grins at her. “I concede, Kurosawa heiress.”

A deafening roar from the audience follows the Manticore’s words, drowning out even the official announcement of her victory. Tears well up in Ruby’s eyes but she barely feels them as she finds herself buried under her friend’s tackling hugs.

Miraculously, she has overcome the First Task.

============================

Ruby finds her mind drifting away to blissful peace as she licks at her lollipop. It’s one of her favorite snacks but it’s been a while since she’s indulged herself in the treat. As a Third-Year and a Prefect, she’s decided to cut down on her sweets intake in order to present a reliable, mature senpai image and so far it’s worked. She does miss being in the background though.

Ah, this tastes heavenly!

Smiling, she notices her steps are bouncier than usual as she walks down the empty hallway back to her Prefect dorm. Most of her Housemates are in the Great Hall, decorating the place for dinnertime, while her friends are preparing for the celebratory party later the night in Chika’s Head Girl dorm.

The Gryffindor duo had successfully rescued her from her peers, allowing her to take a little break in her dorm before having to socialize for the rest of the night. Indeed, Ruby isn’t fond of being under the spotlight even though her responsibilities nowadays require her to be. Thankfully, her friends are all very understanding of her, knowing that she needs a little breather. Chika and You claim that they’re going to raid the kitchen anyway, while Kanan and Mari must be catching up with Dia and most likely teasing her and Riko’s recent not-so-secret engagement.

As for Yoshiko and Hanamaru, well, hopefully they’re on speaking terms again. Ruby frowns at the thought of her best friends, wondering what the problem it is this time. They do argue from time to time, but those have all been harmless bickering, something Mari reassures her to be a form of flirting.

However, it feels like Yoshiko and Hanamaru have been keeping their distance, either avoiding each other or always sticking to Ruby so that they’re never alone by themselves. Just what had happened? Ruby would rather that they have heated arguments so at least she could play peacemaker, but this is something else entirely.  

Sighing, Ruby ponders for the umpteenth time about romantic relationships. She does get envious of that special closeness she’s witnessed in her friends, of how happy her sister is with Riko and so on, but she also finds it stressful. There are so many things to think about, and she is doing fine being the supportive role within their group of nine without being attached to anyone.

What’s more to ask for, if she already has her friends and family?

Suddenly, she couldn’t move her legs anymore and, with her feet stuck to the ground, the momentum makes her bend over awkwardly. Flailing her arms for balance, the lollipop falls to the ground and is kicked away by a dragon skin boot.

Ruby peers up to find Leah glaring at her.

“You didn’t even sense me coming.”

Though slightly irked by the loss of her snack, Ruby is more unsettled by how angry her fellow champion looks. “W-Why have you used partial petrificus on me?”

“To test you - just when I thought you to be a worthy opponent! But look at you, your guard is pathetic,” Leah snarls as she paces around Ruby. Since there is no wand in sight, it must have been a wandless, non-verbal petrificus, implying the witch’s skill and power. “Beside, what was with all that earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“That circus out there! All that cheering, even that dumb Manticore, being all buddy-buddy with one of your Professors! I knew it, there must’ve been a deal going on.”

Ruby says calmly. “I did not cheat, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

Leah then aggressively enters her personal space, their faces now barely an inch apart. “The TriWizard Tournament is not a game.”

Even though the flight alarm is going off in her head, Ruby is able to keep her voice steady. “I know.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re holding back?”

“I’m not.”

Leah growls in frustration, this time taking out her wand and points it threateningly under Ruby’s chin. “My instincts have never proven me wrong, Kurosawa.”

Ruby winces at the derisive way the Durmstrang champion utters her surname but she maintains eye contact. The silent stalemate continues for a while, neither relenting. Ruby notices for the first time that Leah is actually shorter than her, despite the latter having such an intimidating aura that made her presence so much larger.

Leah suddenly whirls around to deflect a Jinx and easily parries another Hex. Without thinking, Ruby breaks free of the Body-Bind Curse and grips Leah’s wrist before the latter fires off an offensive spell.

“I’m okay, Hanamaru-chan, Yoshiko-chan, please put away your wands.”

Hanamaru looks wary while Yoshiko’s expression is dark, but both lower their wands as they briskly approach them.

“What did you think you were doing, to my friend?” Yoshiko’s husky and menacing tone jostles an unpleasant memory in the back of Ruby’s mind but she forces it away.

Leah ignores the newcomers and continues to glare at Ruby. “So, you can move. You dispelled my Curse non-verbally as well.”

Ruby neither admits nor refutes that statement. After that night at the Estate, they’ve all worked so hard on wandlessly countering Body-Binding Curses. She hasn’t encountered any situation she had to utilize this skill until now.

“Oi, I’m talking to you.” Yoshiko stomps forward and uses her superior height to glare down at Leah. A familiar Ashwinder slithers out from her sleeve and drapes around her neck like a scarf. Leah looks disgusted at the hissing snake and raises her wand the same time Yoshiko raises hers.

“Expelliarmus.”

Hanamaru now holds both of their wands, her expression shadowed by her glasses. “No fighting in the hallway, right, Ruby-chan?”

Ruby swallows hard. Her best friend is rarely upset but it is obvious that this is one such time. “R-Right. Guest or not, y-you’d have to follow the rules here, Kazuno-san. Yoshiko-chan, really, I’m okay.”

Yoshiko huffs and folds her arms, while Leah nods curtly, seemingly taken aback by the turn of events. If Ruby isn’t mistaken, she even looks somewhat impressed as Hanamaru returns her wand back to her.

“You got lucky, Kurosawa.” Leah yanks her hand out of Ruby’s grip, reminding the latter that she’s been holding it this whole time. “Heed my words - I will be the victor in the end.”

Ruby exhales tiredly, watching her fellow champion storming down the hallway with the fur cloak billowing behind her. Durmstrang seems like a stressful environment to study in, or is there more to Leah’s drive in winning the Cup?

“Are you okay, Ruby-chan?”

“Yeah, just surprised and exhausted,” she smiles weakly at Hanamaru, noting the deliberate space between her and Yoshiko. Her two friends aren’t looking at each other and the tension is thick. She also notices that Lucifer is nestled in Hanamaru’s hood instead of Yoshiko’s like usual. Seraph the Ashwinder flicks its tongue at Ruby’s questioning gaze and nods imperceptibly before hiding under its master’s sleeve once more.

Ruby sighs again. This is only the First Task, and there appears to be more to come, Tournament or otherwise.

[mybarricades]

Fear Eats the Soul: Walter Benjamin & Baader Meinhof

by Esther Leslie

Neither of the figures in my title – Walter Benjamin and The Baader Meinhof Group – are in any direct way associated with 1968 – indeed each brackets it in time. The one, Benjamin, was long dead by the time of the student and worker revolts, that would undoubtedly have thrilled him, even if they did not thrill his old friend Adorno, who called in the police on his revolting students. Benjamin’s adult thought emerges in the years of the Russian Revolution of 1917 and it reaches its final formulation in the dark days of Nazi rule, his death occurring in 1940. The resurgences of 1968 were never further away than then in that ugly moment of European-wide reaction. The Baader Meinhof Group clearly emerged out of the debates and actions of 1968, and individuals who were to become members of the group later undertook an incendiary action in the spring of 1968 – but the group itself, with its violent strategy of urban resistance - was only founded, or issued its manifesto and logo in 1970 and reached its highest point of notoriety or effect under its second generation in the ‘hot autumn’ of 1977. Benjamin was a figure of the past. But Benjamin was of the same generation as Hitler, three years younger than him, and dying five years before him. The Baader Meinhof Group and associates were famously labelled ‘Hitler’s Children’. 

This paper explores whether they could better be called Benjamin’s children. It is not an examination of how Walter Benjamin or the Baader Meinhof Group acted in 1968, because it cannot be – but rather it is a tracing of lines of influence, of connections, intended and oblique, largely theoretical – in order to think about broader questions of modernity, avant gardism and political struggle. What happens in 1968 undoubtedly affects the way in which Benjamin is transmitted to a new generation of readers and activists. Benjamin is rediscovered, pirated, re-read, revolutionised or re-revolutionised. Perhaps this paper is a way of thinking about whether Benjamin became a sorcerer’s apprentice, just as did Adorno, though more graphically, according to the prosecutor in the trial against Adorno’s doctoral student Hans-Jürgen Krahl after the occupation of Adorno’s institute for social research in 1969: in teaching critical theory, said the prosecutor, Adorno had unleashed critical forces he was unable to control. Adorno’s retort: ‘I established a theoretical mode of thought. How could I have suspected that people would want to implement it with Molotov cocktails?’ Did Benjamin lay his own bombs and undermine quite literally his own anti-systemic mode of thought, in the subsequent actions of the Baader Meinhof Group? 

There are direct connections from Walter Benjamin to the Baader Meinhof Group. It is no surprise the intellectual milieu of the late 1960s and after drew on German Critical Theory – and if Adorno had been a critical theorist who had allowed the thinking of radical negation, but proved himself to side with law and order in the end, then perhaps Benjamin, a victim of Nazism, who never achieved any official position in Germany or outside, might serve as a reference point or even a guide. Andreas Baader cited one of Benjamin’s final pieces of writing, ‘On the Concept of History’, from 1939 or 1940, several times in his ‘Letter to the Prisoners’, part of a 300-page ‘explanation of the matter’, presented by Baader, Ensslin, Meinhof and Raspe to the court at Stuttgart-Stammheim in 1976. Three of Benjamin’s theses were quoted in these documents for a court of law. Once again critical theory was in the dock. How was Benjamin made to speak from the grave to address the questions of political analysis and political practice in 1970s Germany? 

For one, Baader cited Benjamin in relation to the question of, as he put it: ‘how to secure the specific form of revolutionary violence that is now historically possible and which corresponds to the institutional use of power’. Benjamin, for Baader, introduces the subject of revolutionary violence in a theoretical context and affirms it in practice – revolutionary violence is the only type of violence that can be commensurate with state violence. Baader continues his gloss on Benjamin by defining Benjamin’s revolutionary violence: it is a ‘concept that is directed towards revolutionary breakage’ and this violence is a recognition of the extent of reaction in Europe, which means that, according to Baader, ‘mass action only makes sense, when it integrates the experience of the front of the worldwide armed struggle’. In essence, the claim is that it is necessary to take up arms. This is the conclusion Baader draws from Benjamin – specifically from this thesis in ‘On the Concept of History’: 

The subject of historical cognition is the battling, oppressed class itself. In Marx it steps forwards as the final enslaved and avenging class, which carries out the work of emancipation in the name of generations of downtrodden to its conclusion. This consciousness, which for a short time made itself felt in the ‘Spartacus’ was objectionable to social democracy from the very beginning. In the course of three decades it succeeded in almost completely erasing the name of Blanqui, whose distant thunder [Erzklang] had made the preceding century tremble. It contented itself with assigning the working-class the role of the savior of future generations. It thereby severed the sinews of its greatest power. Through this schooling the class forgot its hate as much as its spirit of sacrifice. For both nourish themselves on the picture of enslaved forebears, not on the ideal of the emancipated heirs. 

Baader sought a justification for breaking with reformism in Benjamin. He found a ‘fundamental’ point here. He translates Benjamin’s paean to hatred into acts of hatred. It understands ‘the spirit of sacrifice’ to mean complicity in acts of destruction. Baader’s commentary on this citation is as follows: ‘This definition by Benjamin is fundamental. Since the conception of a utopia that presents itself as socialist can only ever be the attempt to make the revolution attractive like a commodity and to await its boomtime. The revolution however is real only as a negation of what exists, as its destruction.’ Baader signals his impatience, one he shares with Benjamin, who in 1940 longed for the sudden and seemingly impossible end to fascist rule. The revolution cannot be awaited. The revolution is also, according to Baader, not something attractive and desirable – it is a negation, a hard schooling, a bloodbath. Such a concept is far from another tradition which sees revolution as carnival, as unfolding. This is the hard and nasty business of political change, a harshness borne not just by the bourgeoisie but also by all. 

Baader finds justification of his – or of terrorist practice – in Benjamin’s attack on Social Democracy. The act of revolution is an act of destruction – it is not the painting in the sky of bright pictures of tomorrow, a tomorrow that of course never comes. Baader glossed the thesis further: ‘the more capital organises itself and plans (its cycle) via the state the more one experiences how power comes only from the barrel of a gun; the problem: the articulation of an action that forces on the development, […] and the creation of a political military action by a revolutionary avant garde, which directly intervenes in the crisis here and appropriates its course, forces the crisis’s resolution for the benefit of the offensive.’ Benjamin’s call for the recovery of the forces of ‘hate’ and ‘sacrifice’, excites Baader. Here is a theory of revolution that emphasizes negativity – but not just Adornonian negativity in thought. It speaks of hate and destruction and breakage, of sacrifice and horror. Baader comments in relation to his contemporary Germany: ‘destruction, the smashing of capitalist relations of production – economic, military, cultural, ideological. The function of utopia is, according to all experiences of it, a form of arrangement with the bad present, or put another way, to make bearable for oneself one’s bad conscience about one’s own inactivity.’ Benjamin is drawn by Baader here into the realms of strictly anti-utopian thinking. His animus against capitalist society is presented as absolute. No compromise is conceded. Smashing, breaking, and refusing to image the future. Turned to the past. Acts of revenge for previous and ongoing enslavement. These are indeed the catalysts of Benjamin’s critique. But there is also a way in which Baader misunderstands Benjamin and his equally productive, rather than destructive, drive. Misunderstanding is evident in Baader’s commentary on the following thesis by Benjamin: 

The class struggle, which always remains in view for a historian schooled in Marx, is a struggle for the rough and material things, without which there is nothing fine and spiritual. Nevertheless these latter are present in the class struggle as something other than mere booty, which falls to the victor. They are present as confidence, as courage, as humor, as cunning, as steadfastness in this struggle, and they reach far back into the mists of time. They will, ever and anon, call every victory which has ever been won by the rulers into question. Just as flowers turn their heads towards the sun, so too does that which has been turned, by virtue of a secret kind of heliotropism, towards the sun which is dawning in the sky of history. To this most inconspicuous of all transformations the historical materialist must pay heed. 

To this Baader adds the sentence: ‘Benjamin pronounces on the bourgeois values in the proletarian revolution’. Baader sees as a pointer to the presence of bourgeois values Benjamin’s indication of the presence of ‘fine and spiritual’ things as part of the struggle –here manifested in the attitude of the proletariat, in its confidence, courage, humour, cunning and endurance ’ rather than in terms of booty. The implication is that the presence of ‘fine and spiritual’ things, even in this form, in the form of an attitude, indicates that the proletariat has been corrupted by the bourgeoisie. Is this because Baader cannot accept the presence of anything spiritual? Is it only the material world of action that counts and which he juxtaposes to the world of spirit? Baader continues: ‘gramsci said the same thing succinctly: the proletariat is the inheritor of classical German philosophy’. To that extent, so the implication, the German working class is trapped in bourgeois thinking and thus inhibited as revolutionary actors. It is a curious misreading, as Benjamin is not actually condemning the proletariat to the mistaken bourgeois values, but rather identifies a set of new ones peculiar to working class struggle, which make him hopeful about class-based resistance, which will ever rise up again as long as classes exist. But it is not surprising: Baader has to misread it this way. He needs to negate everything, including the working class, in a way that was not necessary or desirable for Benjamin. For Baader, the German working class is nothing but corrupted. In fact, it was Engels who first made the claim about the German working class being the inheritor of classical German philosophy, in his book on Ludwig Feuerbach, when he observed the German working class’s ‘unimpaired’ ‘aptitude for theory, which produced the opportunity for alliances between the proponents of the new science and the most advanced, if abject, social forces. As Engels put it: ‘Only among the working class does the German aptitude for theory remain unimpaired. Here, it cannot be exterminated. Here, there is no concern for careers, for profit-making, or for gracious patronage from above. On the contrary, the more ruthlessly and disinterestedly knowledge proceeds the more it finds itself in harmony with the interest and aspirations of the workers. The new tendency, which recognized that the key to the understanding of the whole history of society lies in the history of the development of labor, from the outset addressed itself by preference to the working class and here found the response which it neither sought nor expected from officially recognized knowledge. The German working-class movement is the inheritor of German classical philosophy.’ 

But for Baader, perhaps for understandable historical reasons, there is no such optimism about the German working class, nor about classical German philosophy, as a mode of analysis that might flow from theory into practice through the working class, in its quest to understand the social totality. Baader quotes a final thesis from Benjamin’s ‘On the Concept of History’: 

The tradition of the oppressed teaches us that the ‘emergency situation’ in which we live is the rule. We must arrive at a concept of history which corresponds to this. Then it will become clear that the task before us is the introduction of a real state of emergency; and our position in the struggle against Fascism will thereby improve. Not the least reason that the latter has a chance is that its opponents, in the name of progress, greet it as a historical norm. – The astonishment that the things we are experiencing in the 20th century are ‘still’ possible is by no means philosophical. It is not the beginning of knowledge, unless it would be the knowledge that the conception of history on which it rests is untenable. 

This is the thesis that most lends itself to the legitimation of abrupt, sudden and emergency action, such as that carried out by the Baader Meinhof Group. The ‘emergency situation’, states Benjamin, is already here and we are charged with bringing about ‘a real state of emergency’ in response to it: our emergency should cancel out the emergency that has become the norm within which we exist, or survive barely. Baader glossed this with the following: ‘to be the protagonist of class confrontation in the metropoles, away from the history and defeats of the proletariat, away from its subordination to the imperialist state here via the social democracy that is bought by US capital and the unions ruled by the CIA – to be motor of the revolutionary proletarisation of society.’ For Benjamin the emergency situation that he confronted was fascist rule, which had been ushered in by social democracy and other putative opponents who had not felt compelled to expel fascism from participation in the usual political process. For Benjamin it is the leaders of the political organisations that have found an accommodation with fascism. As he puts it: ‘the politicians in whom the opponents of Fascism had placed their hopes have been knocked supine, and have sealed their downfall by the betrayal of their own cause’. Their members might comply – and Benjamin does mention that the German working class have been ‘corrupted’ – specifically by the idea that they were swimming with the tide of progress, specifically technological progress, a legacy possibly of that which Engels addressed earlier. In essence, though, it is the political establishment that makes its accords with capital and with fascism. Who otherwise could be addressed by Benjamin’s claim that ‘the task before us is the introduction of a real state of emergency’, which will improve ‘our position in the struggle against fascism’? 

In Baader’s gloss though what is at stake is avant gardism or vanguardism - being the protagonist in a scenario in which the proletariat is wholly lost to the grip of US capital and the security services. Of course such an attitude was not specific to the Baader Meinhof Group. Even the leader of the German student movement in the late 1960s, Rudi Dutschke, and presumably many of those he led, thought that the working class of the developed world, and more so in Germany than anywhere, was bought-off or still fascistic at its core. And perhaps, in Germany, more than anywhere else the working class was still caught, to the exclusion of revolutionary politics, between the political forcefields of reformism, given how strong and effective that tradition had been historically, and fascism, given how devastating and total that system had been more recently. That Germany remained a land of prejudice and conformity, in part but powerfully, because so psychically internalised, was one theme of Fassinder’s 1974 film, which provides the title of this piece: Fear Eats the Soul. That is was tendentially fascist – or fascisizing – was the thesis of the omnibus film about the funeral of Hans Martin Schleyer, kidnapped by the RAF, as a bargaining tool for the release of Baader and his comrades, and then murdered, and the funerals of Baader, Gudrun Ensslin and Jan-Carl Raspe. In this film Fassbinder interviews his mother, discussing her penchant for authoritarian rule.  

Benjamin wrote his theses on the concept of history from within the rule of Nazism. But he carried over into them a set of images that he had used since the beginning of the 1930s, prior to Nazi victory. In the theses he writes, as we have seen, of the use of terror to end a greater terror that presents itself as normality. He also wrote of breaking open the continuum of history or arresting it, of shock, of breaking through the picture of history, of grasping a memory that flashes up at a moment of danger, of a world in which ‘one single catastrophe’ ‘unceasingly piles rubble on top of rubble’. In 1931 he had devised, similarly, in response to the brutality of capital, a brutal figure. The ‘destructive character’ is a type without memory, opposed to repression in its political and psychic senses, who – causing havoc by cutting ways through, by liquidating situations – removes the traces which sentimentally bind us to the status quo; in order to make possible the formulation of experience according to revised tenets of existence in modernity. The destructive character rejects past traces, has abolished ‘aura’ and with it sentimentality about things, including the self. The destructive character would doubtless live, if he could, in the new glass and steel environments designed by Adolf Loos, the Bauhaus and Bruno Taut with their ‘rooms in which it is hard to leave traces’. ‘Erase the traces’, as Brecht insisted in a poem in his 1926 lyric cycle ‘Handbook for City-dwellers’. For those traces, the monograms, screens, knick-knacks on mantelpieces are also tied up with possession; and so signal class society. Brecht details: ‘Erase the traces’, rather than have someone else efface them. Living traceless lives is useful for political fugitives or terrorists on the run. Sometime between the spring and the autumn of 1933 Benjamin wrote a short reflection titled ‘Experience and Poverty’, which considered the new reality, which was the shocking world of war. Twentieth century warfare had unleashed a ‘new barbarism’ in which a generation that went to school in horse-drawn trams stood exposed in a transformed landscape, caught in the crossfire of explosions and destructive torrents. This was no lament for the old days, for those were unliveable for the propertyless and the habits engendered by the cluttered and smothered interiors were unsustainable. ‘Erase the traces!’ Benjamin repeated in this essay and invent a ‘new, positive concept of barbarism’. Benjamin heralded the honest recorders of this newly devalued, technologised, impoverished experience: Paul Klee, Adolf Loos, and the utopians Paul Scheerbart and Mickey Mouse. In all of these the brutality and dynamism of contemporary technology was used, abused, mocked and harnessed. Benjamin’s promotion of explosions, barbarism, lack of sentiment was an emulation or squatting of the enemy’s methods, tools and modes of address. So, for example, Benjamin argued that ‘impoverished experience’ can be overpowered only if the fact of poverty is made into the underpinning of a political strategy of a ‘new barbarism’ that corresponds faithfully to the new realities of the constellation of Masse and Technik. But Benjamin’s strategy was aesthetic-political, just as his theses on the concept of history addressed the idea of the image or picture of history. These metaphors cannot be so simply translated into practical action. Or rather they import themselves only at specific, charmed revolutionary moments. As he put it in one of the culminating theses: 

The consciousness of exploding the continuum of history is peculiar to the revolutionary classes in the moment of their action. The Great Revolution [of 1789] introduced a new calendar. The day on which the calendar started functioned as a historical time-lapse camera. And it is fundamentally the same day which, in the shape of holidays and memorials, always returns. The calendar does not therefore count time like clocks. They are monuments of a historical awareness, of which there has not seemed to be the slightest trace for a hundred years. Yet in the July Revolution an incident took place which did justice to this consciousness. During the evening of the first skirmishes, it turned out that the clock-towers were shot at independently and simultaneously in several places in Paris. 

In 1931, in a radio lecture on the Bastille prison, Walter Benjamin associates conspirators and artists. The Bastille was a place of incarceration for people who had upset state security. There were two classes of prisoner held there; those who were accused of conspiracy and treason, and those more numerous inmates who were writers, engravers, book dealers and binders, all people who had propagated books that offended the king or his favourites. Prisoners disappeared from between its walls as swiftly as they had appeared, subject as they were to the whims of the powerful. The storming of the Bastille, home at that moment to just sixteen prisoners, was the first visible act of destruction of the French Revolution, and it occurred, insists Benjamin, because of the arbitrariness of its punishments. What was released then into the French post-revolutionary cosmos was a ragged band of writers, artists, artisans and conspirators. In short, a low-life bohemia of gossip-mongerers, art-peddlars and revolters, who dispersed into the fertile air of a new class-rule. Having occupied the same space of confinement, they forged a bond that bore offspring. For it was from their ranks that the avant-garde was born. No longer ‘at home’ in the prison, these homeless rebels agitated and aggravated from inside the vaster prison of the bourgeois world; opposed to that world, but inside it, they figured a place apart. 

The Baader Meinhof Group found themselves some hundred years later in Stammheim – and there was to be no liberation, no storming on the part of an activated and revolutionary class keen to overturn the existing order. Instead there was only death. The vanguard perished. Its major act had been to translate a modernist desire for interruption, shock and smashing into the streets in the very specific conditions of post-nazi Germany and consumer boom. Unconvinced that consumer-applianced, psychologically-authoritarian working classes would revolt, Baader Meinhof Group sought - through bombs and kidnapping - to shatter the terms of everyday life. Such shattering of the terms of everyday life is what art only dreams of achieving. 

I want to end with some words on recycling. The politicisation of aesthetics that Benjamin theorised as the 1920s’ practice and contribution to revolutionary struggle was invoked as a direct feed into the class struggle in the 1960s. 1968 was a recycling, a return, a re-spinning of a previous revolution or revolutionary moment of the 1920s, as it played out in art, an art that had been politicised. As a vignette of this consider the filmwork of Harun Farocki, who began making films in 1966. His first films were made collectively while he was a student at the Berlin Film and Television Academy, challenging thereby the ethos of the sole genius creator. Farocki’s films were directly political in theme: the title of one, an agit-prop film, from 1968 translates as On Some Problems of the Anti-authoritarian and Anti-imperialist Struggle in the Metropolitan Areas, Using West Berlin as Example, or Their Newspapers. This short film thematised the manipulative ideological role of the Axel Springer newspaper concern, in a highly politicised West Berlin – Springer’s press was a key player in the ideological war of the 1960s and was blamed by the left for inciting an assassin to target Rudi Dutschke in April 1968, when he was shot in the head and chest after its calls to readers to ‘eliminate the trouble-makers’ and ‘stop the terror of the young Reds’. The political temperature of the time is evidenced in the film by documentary shots of demonstrations and debates – documentary was valued as the mode of accessing the data of social reality and there was a rich tradition of the left to draw on as precedent. The film made parallels between military repression in Vietnam and ideological oppression in Germany. Bombs fall onto the Vietnamese, bundles of newspapers thud onto the streets of West Berlin. A twin assault – violence towards Vietnamese bodies, violence towards German minds. Both forms distort. At the film’s close activists turn those words into weapons, as cobblestones are wrapped in Springer’s newspapers in preparation for the street fighting. These were the days in which students occupied the film academy in Berlin, the red flag hoisted above the building, now unofficially renamed, in homage to the 1920s political avant garde, ‘The Dziga Vertov Academy’. Once order was restored, the occupiers, Farocki amongst them, were expelled from the film academy. 

Farocki continued to work on political film outside the institution - one film NICHT löschbares Feuer [Un-extinguishable Fire] (1968/69) - exposed the atrocities of the Vietnam War in its concentration on Dow Chemicals, the makers of Napalm: its key line – ‘When Napalm is burning, it is too late to extinguish it. You have to fight Napalm where it is produced: in the factories’. This was another way of bringing the violence of the imperialists back to the cities – as image – and then as mass strategy. The film analysed the class perspectives of workers, engineers, students and bosses in relation to the production of Napalm. It demonstrated how the division of labour obscured the situation and prevented knowledge. The film was the vehicle for diffusing knowledge about the effects, profits, uses and meaning of Napalm. Two films from 1969, made with the Socialist Filmmakers Co-operative West Berlin, were titled Ohne Titel oder: Nixon kommt nach Berlin [Untitled or: Nixon Comes to Berlin] and Anleitung, Politizisten den Helm abzureißen [Instructions For Stripping a Policeman of His Helmet]. This was film as weapons, self-consciously using documentary in a Brechtian fashion, drawing on the resources of modern media with its barrage of techniques, such as montage, selection, distance and foregrounded manipulation or artifice – that which Brecht claimed needed to be constructed in order to be truthful – all in the pursuit of politicising art. What we see in the Baader Meinhof Group’s return of Benjamin some ten years after this is a spin too far. What Benjamin represents, in actuality, is the modernist avant garde, the revolutionary moment of October 1917 as reflected into aesthetic policy. But the Baader Meinhof Group turn this political aesthetics back again into politics – which might mean that another key aspect of Benjamin’s analysis – the stand-off between the politicisation of art – in communism – and the aestheticisation of politics - in Fascism - is of relevance. Though to pursue that line gets close to the now fashionable revisionist position directed not just at the ‘terrorist left’ but at the generation of 1968 in general. It is a line even purveyed by 1968ers about themselves. Take for example former Maoist Götz Aly whose new book Unser Kampf – a play on the title of Hitler’s famous tract – compares the ‘illiberalism’ of the 1968 generation to that of the generation of 1933, both being mass movements that are opposed to parliamentary democracy and the values of the Enlightenment. Both movements, according to Aly, and much of the existing German left, were anti-Semitic. The children of mass murders ran after the mass murderer Mao, in the final offshoot of European totalitarianism that is 1968, Aly claims of himself and his friends in an article titled ‘Back to Rudi Dutschke’s Pram’. The point is that Benjamin’s metaphorics of explosions was an aesthetic translation of political possibility, that was the political violence of 1917, a violence predicated on the possibility of a mass movement that alone could end the existing violence of war and capitalist rule. It translated this energy into revolutionary art and revolutionary theory, which was dependent on political, social and political prospects for change. The Baader Meinhof Group ran it back the other way – they took the metaphorics of explosion from art, from the avant garde, and retranslated it into political practice.

Militant Esthetix

[silavut-the-wizard]

Silavut the Wizard, Chapter 25

They finally arrive at Trefal, and things start to get heated up.

Arrival at Trefal

As they left the village, Sehlan started berating herself and Silavut. “I can’t believe how stupid we were. We said we wouldn’t let our guard down, and what happened? We let our guard down. We got drugged, tied up, left to be eaten by a dragon—which, thankfully, didn’t actually happen. How could we let that happen? Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Silavut let her rant in silence, and when she was done, said, “From now on, we’ll definitely have to be more vigilant. I knew something was wrong with that drink, but I wasn’t sure what. I wish I would’ve said something before.”

“It’s OK. We’re safe, again. For now. Though I definitely agree, we should definitely be more vigilant. No more accepting weird food or drinks from strangers, and no more getting into trouble if we can help it.”

“Agreed. By the way, we never did get more supplies. Do we have anything left?”

Sehlan paused to think. “There might be something we overlooked. Let’s check.”

They stopped to drop their packs and rummage through them for any leftover supplies. Both their stomachs growled. They looked up at each other and laughed. Another few minutes of rummaging and Silavut found a small bundle of bread, cheese, and an apple in his pack. In hers, Sehlan found the waterskin still surprisingly half-full and a pack of dried meat.

“Well, look at that. Surprise, surprise,” she said. “I really wasn’t sure we’d find anything.”

“Same here. Let’s eat!”

They put together a small meal and ate as they walked. There was a booming overhead and they looked up to see the clouds had gotten darker. Thunder rolled.

“I really hope the weather holds until we get to Trefal,” Silavut said.

“No kidding. You know how I absolutely despise wet weather.”

“I wish that stupid dragon hadn’t eaten our horses.”

“It’s not stupid, but I agree. Let’s pick up the pace. Maybe we can find a way to get there quicker.”

Silavut thought about it for a moment. “How about that shortcut?”

“No…no way…no shortcuts. I know how dangerous that can be. You get stuck, or lost, or abducted, or eaten, and it’s no longer a shortcut, but a trap.”

“OK, fine. No shortcuts.” Silavut thought back to the forest and remembered what one person said about it being a shortcut, but they got lost and couldn’t get back out. Maybe she’s right, then, he thought. Shortcuts can be dangerous. Just wish there was a quicker way to go.

They found the main road leading to Trefal and started following it. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. The clouds grew even darker, becoming bloated with rain. The temperature dropped even more. They were glad they had doubled up their cloaks before as they pulled them tighter to try and keep out some of the chill.

Suddenly they saw a large figure rushing towards them. As they got closer, they could see it was a horse-drawn carriage. It slowed down as they approached each other.

“Ho there,” commanded the driver. The horses stopped and the carriage squeaked to a halt. “There you are.”

Silavut and Sehlan looked at each other, confused, then back at the driver.

“You mean us?” Silavut asked.

“No, I mean the rivers and the trees.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I mean you two! We were told to expect two travellers matching your descriptions days ago, but you’re overdue, so they sent me looking for you. I’m glad you’re here. Oh, they would have such a fit if I didn’t find you. Now come on! Get in!”

“You…were expecting us? How? Who told you?”

“By the Powers—OK, look, all I know is you two were supposed to be here days ago and I was sent to find you. I’ve found you. Now I’m to take you back to Trefal. You’ll get answers there, maybe.” More lightning and thunder. “Oh dear, look at that. If you don’t get in soon, you’ll be drenched!”

They looked at each other again, wondering if they could trust him after what just happened at the village. Would they rather get drenched and have a miserable journey? Or would they rather ride in comfort and stay dry? They were wishing for a faster way, and it’s not exactly a shortcut.

“Oh, for the love of—cryin’ out loud—would you two just get in already?” His voice got softer. “Oh, the suffering I go through…”

After a quiet debate between them, they decided to take the carriage, but stay alert. They couldn’t let their guard down again. They cautiously entered the carriage, making sure it was safe. As soon as they were settled, the driver quickly turned it around, and they were on their way to Trefal.

During the ride, the two riders kept anxiously waiting for something to happen. Their eyes darted all around, making sure there were no surprises. Outside, the rain started pouring down. Sehlan was definitely grateful for the ride now, though it was still suspicious to her.

A silent, tense, few hours’ ride later, they were coming to Trefal. The city was grand and beautiful. They relaxed a bit as the coach made its way through the wide streets to the capitol building, where, apparently, they were expected.

A large canopy was erected as they arrived so they wouldn’t get wet as they exited the coach. They were still on alert just in case. Entering the large, extravagant building, they were met by well-dressed, official-looking people. This group, it appeared, was their welcome party.

One particularly overly well-dressed woman hurried towards them. “Oh, hello there!” she beamed, clapping her hands together and smiling overly big. “You’ve finally made it! So glad to see you.” She snapped her fingers. “Get these two cleaned up, fresh clothes, and a warm meal!” As what appeared to be servants scuttled about getting things ready, the woman continued addressing them. “Apologies. Let me introduce myself. I’m Lady Anielle Pendalest, the seneschal of Trefal. You must be the two I’ve heard so much about recently. Welcome to our humble city.”

“Thank you,” Sehlan said with a slight curtsey. “However, may I be so bold as to ask how you knew we were coming—who gave you the message?”

“Why, of course. There was a wise old wizard by the name of Vorin—”

This immediately caught Silavut’s attention. He gasped and blurted out, “Vorin?? You knew him?? How did—what—” He couldn’t quite produce the question.

“Oh, that’s right. You were his ward for a while. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” She said this with genuine sympathy. “We did not know him personally. Though we did know of him and we exchanged messages. He would tell us of his ward—you—and of things to come. He sent us a message years ago, foretelling of two travellers who would be coming to Trefal at around this time. In the message, he described you two perfectly. When you didn’t show on the appointed day, I sent my coach driver to fetch you. Lucky he found you when he did.” She looked out one of the many windows adorning the building. “It’s absolutely dreadful out there.” Anielle then looked them over. “Though I see you have already been through some tough weather. The storm a few weeks ago took a toll, but somehow everything was restored. I didn’t understand it then. Now, however, I think I might.” She gestured at the sword attached to Sehlan’s pack. “Well, enough of that for now. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed.” Anielle snapped her fingers again and the two were led away.

They were escorted to a large, luxurious room. The bed was extra large and could fit probably five people. The covers were made of soft, smooth material they had never seen before. There were shelves of books. A large writing desk sat in the corner by the window which had a sitting ledge. There was a grand, walk-in closet that was literally its own room. They wandered around the room, admiring and touching everything.

Then there was the bathroom. It was nearly as large as the bedroom. The bath water had been drawn, ready for them to wash. The tub itself could easily also fit five people.

One thing was curious, however.

“So, I guess they assume we’re a couple, or something?” Silavut said. “I don’t mind sharing the bed—it’s humungous—but do they expect us to bathe together?”

Sehlan looked at him with a mischievous smirk. “Why, don’t you want to see me without my clothes on? Am I not attractive to you? I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes, when you think I don’t notice.”

Silavut swallowed and blushed bright red. “Uh…I…um…er…well…you…”

Sehlan laughed at his uncomfortableness. “Well, I’m going to go wash up. Join me or not, it’s your choice.” With that, she started undressing, leaving a trail of clothes to the bathroom. She wiggled her fingers in a small wave as she closed the door before completely stripping. What Silavut didn’t notice was that she left it unlatched.

He was hot under the collar and hurriedly removed the thick cloaks and his outer gear. He nearly undid his kit, but thought better of it. Did she really mean what she said? Should he join her? What would happen if he did? He couldn’t get his thoughts straight and paced rapidly, his heart beating fast.

He could hear her humming as she splashed around. Was she doing that on purpose to get his attention? What was going on?

He was about to make a decision when there was a knock at the door. Saved by the knock! He hurried to answer it. It was one of the servants with new clothes for them. The servant noticed the discarded garments and asked if he should take them away. Silavut nodded and helped gather them up, and said they would send down the rest after they had cleaned up and changed. The servant nodded and whisked them away to be cleaned.

Sehlan was still humming and splashing around. Then she called, “Silavut! Can you help me wash my back?”

He gulped. “Um…don’t they have, like, a back scrubber, or something? Or maybe a servant to help?”

There was a pause. “I don’t see one, and I don’t want a servant. Why don’t you come and help? What’s there to be afraid of?”

“I mean…uh…” He wasn’t sure how to respond. “If…I guess…you really want me to…?”

“Yes, I really want you to,” she said, drawing out the really in a sultry tone.

Oh boy…what do I do…what do I do…? Silavut didn’t know the etiquette of helping someone, much less a woman, wash themselves. “Um…OK…just…uh…give me…uh…a minute…”

He could hear her giggle. “It’s OK, you can get undressed and climb in with me.” The door slid open a few inches and he caught her naked backside.

Nervously he undressed and entered the bathroom, holding his hands over himself.

“Oh my, someone’s a bit shy.” She looked down at his hands and the bulge they contained.

Silavut was shivering with nervousness.

“Come on in, I won’t bite…unless you want me to…” She smiled playfully up at him.

He wasn’t so sure about this now and looked back towards the open door.

“The water’s nice and hot and refreshing. I’ll help you wash your back, too. Come on in.” She beckoned him with a finger.

He carefully stepped over the edge, hands still in place, and sighed with content as he slid down into the hot water. “Oh, wow, this is nice.” He then finally noticed her figure under the water and went wide-eyed.

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

Multiverse is a Curse Word (2)

Again, no idea how to describe this AU, other than as some sort of Frankenstein-y mash of @the-subpar-ghost‘s Adrift AU, and @hntrgurl13‘s Dimension Jumper AU and Drifting Dimensions AU. Adeline Marks is also the latter’s lovely OC. Although the Addiford ship has not yet sailed, I’m still going to credit it to @scipunk63. 

@deadpool-demon-diva and @thejesterlyfictionista I refuse to NOT inform you when I post an update. 

AO3  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11

Chapter 2: Hand Signals to Befuddle Your Enemies

The scenery whipped past silently, and sunlight streamed through the transparent walls of what Mabel had dubbed The Trainbulance. It had docked over the market place shortly after Ford had passed out. Apparently, fights were fairly common in that place, and medical help was permanently stationed nearby to pick up the pieces.

Her uncle jolted awake right next to her, shooting from horizontal to sitting upright almost instantly. His right hand automatically reached for the gun that Mabel had, with wise forethought, temporarily removed from its holster.

“Whoa! Grunkle Ford! It’s okay!”

Eyes wide and breathing hard through his nose, Ford focused on her after a moment of taking in his surroundings.

“Are you alright?”

“Me?” Mabel laughed worriedly. “What about you?”

“I’m-” Ford looked down at the recovery bed he was lying in, and then at his newly re-located shoulder. “Fine, actually.” He sounded surprised. “Where are we?”

Grinning so wide she thought every one of her braces must be showing, Mabel joyously exclaimed, “The Trainbulance! It can fly! And we don’t even have to pay for it or anything, Addi’s settled it all with the driver. I think she’s magic,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Addi?” Ford inquired.

“Right here.” Adeline said, stepping into the compartment. “Adeline Marks, your saving grace.” She introduced herself with a playful smile.

⃝

Adeline wore tattered clothes in brown and grey, and her wrists and hands were wrapped like a boxer’s. Ford knew immediately that he should not get on the wrong side of the sword strapped to her back; he had seen how fast it could be drawn. Her choppy blonde hair had a few grey streaks, and her right cheekbone wielded a couple of horizontal scars. Ford estimated that she was perhaps a few years younger than himself and had seen at least as much action, if not more, judging by the confident way she held herself – like she knew she was more than a match for anyone she crossed.

“I think she can hypnotise people with sign language, too,” Mabel supplied. Ford was suddenly aware that he had done nothing but stare at Adeline since she had walked into the room, and cleared his throat.

“Thank you for your help,” he said sincerely.

“Anytime,” she replied easily, “but Mabel’s the real hero here. She came and got me.” Adeline directed another warm smile towards his niece.

Mabel hesitated. Frowning slightly, she eventually took a breath and said to Ford again, “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have cheated.”

Ford swung his legs off the recovery bed and took her hands, making sure to look into her eyes. “Don’t blame yourself.” He said firmly. “Nobody’s hurt, that’s the important thing-”

“But you were hurt-”

“And you saved me,”

Mabel sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder, still upset.

“Mabel, you and Stanford did not deserve to be attacked over a dice game, regardless of whether you cheated. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that jerk of a gambler. I mean, who goes after a kid like that?” Adeline put in. “Next time, only cheat if the other guy isn’t going to notice.” She winked.

Mabel nodded slowly, mollified.

“Where are heading?” Ford wondered.

“This, um, trainbulance is going to drop us off at a place I know, run by some … colleagues, I guess, of mine. At the very least it’s a place to shelter for the night.” Adeline prompted, seeing his obvious reluctance.

“Adeline, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done,” he began, “I would just prefer not to take any more risks than absolutely necessary.”

“It wouldn’t be a risk.” Adeline said quickly and eagerly. “I mean, not by our standards, right?”

Ford ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Mabel, who erupted into a coughing fit.

“I’m good,” she choked out. He really hoped she had not caught something from that alley. He should have tried harder to find a more sanitary, not to mention safer, sleeping place. It was hard to remember how much more careful he had to be now, especially with a child as uncomplaining and resilient as Mabel. That being said, no matter how guilty he felt it was impossible to find suitable living conditions all the time.

It would be best to take it where he could get it then.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding to Adeline.

⃝

Trying hard to contain her delight and not freak out the others, Addi was suddenly reminded of something.

“Oh! A thing you may find useful …” She rotated her wrist around and flicked her fingers out.

“I think she’s trying to hypnotise us,” Mabel stage whispered, looking strangely keen.

“No, this is a hand signal.” Addi laughed. “It, well, it sort of means ‘I don’t want to hurt you, I’m on your side.’” She rolled her eyes at Stanford’s raised eyebrow. “At the very least it’ll confuse your enemies into stopping attacking, y’know, if you decide to just stand there and wave at them. But they’ll probably recognise it. It works in many of the dimensions I’ve been to.”

“You said ‘side’ as in side of a war?” Stanford picked up, perceptive as ever.

“No. Not yet anyway,”

“So, a resistance effort? Against what? Are you a part of this?”

Addi shifted uncomfortably. She’d want Wesley around to explain this. “I help out where I’m needed. I’m not officially a part of anything. If they need assistance they call me in, like with-”

“Recruiting?” Ford’s voice was suddenly as hard as steel.

“No, well yes, but not you, not Mabel. I don’t involve kids.” Addi became aware that the conversation had made a sharp turn off road.

“You don’t. However, in my experience resistances are often just as brutal and cruel as the institutions they overthrow,”

“I’m not trying to get either of you involved.” Addi raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I just think we could help you out.”

“We don’t need help,” Stanford said coldly.

Mabel doubled over coughing again. As Addi steadied her with a hand, the medical transport shuttle, which had been slowing imperceptibly, rocked to a halt. The cease in motion caused all three of them to sway, and Addi distinctly heard Stanford’s breath catch in his throat when he looked back at her. He froze up, and Addi knew, she just knew that her necklace was showing. In the following moment of silence and stillness, Mabel’s mouth dropped open as she saw it too.

“It’s not-” Addi tried desperately to say, but then her two, well she couldn’t call them friends anymore, heard footsteps thundering towards them from the door behind her.

Things happened very quickly after that.

Mabel tore herself out of Addi’s hand and ran to the exit hatch in one of the viewing walls. Stanford kicked the chair she had vacated into Addi’s knees, making her hiss in pain. With a blast from the man’s gun, Mabel shot the emergency hatch off, and then they were gone.

“Damn it!” Adeline shouted in mingled anger and despair. The two resistance members she had notified to escort them to their base in this dimension hurried into the room.

“Why were you running? There was no rush!”

“The driver was getting impatient,” the blue, three-eyed, spiny one said uncertainly.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm down, Addi reached up and removed her necklace.

“Shit,” she whispered, gazing down at the little golden triangle.

“They freaked, huh?” asked Kot, a green, tentacled, octopus-like person. Their words were filled with sympathy.

“Yeah,” Addi tried to keep her voice from cracking.

⃝

Three days and two dimensions later, Mabel’s cough was only getting worse. She felt unsteady on her feet, and her temperature was stubbornly increasing. She’d also noticed Ford starting to cough.

They could not afford to be sick.

They were both interdimensional outlaws – Mabel by association, Ford by intent – and any wrong move could draw attention to themselves. A one-eyed, yellow, demonic kind of attention. Their encounter with Addi had given them no choice but to keep moving.

“How far away’s the next portal?” she murmured. On the other side of the fire pit in the desert floor, Ford looked up from his calculations.

“Not far.” He said. “It will open in a few hours.”

Mabel nodded and shivered. She was too tired to speak. She was cold, even though she was wrapped in all the blankets they had. Even though she was next to a fire. Even though they were in a desert.

This sucks, she thought miserably. Hey, never had an alien virus though! This didn’t cheer her up as much as it had two days ago.

Ford’s smothered cough almost escaped her notice as the crackling of the fire. A pang of guilt went through her and she sniffled. Worry painted all over his face, her uncle came and sat next to her, rubbing her back.

“S’ry,” Mabel said.

“No, I shouldn’t have let us stay in that alley,”

“Meant for bein’ a hassle,”

“You’re not. You never are,”

Mabel was pretty sure that was a lie. Ford was always counting their rations to make sure there was enough for two. He was more focused on earning money so they could stay in actual dwelling places whenever possible. He always kept a secure grip on her hand when they walked into civilisation, and had gone out of his way to get her proper travelling clothes. Most regularly though, he took the time to teach her about the calculations he used, the most common social customs he’d found, and how to operate what technology they had. To her, it was obvious how much of his attention she took up. It was nice of him to lie though.

Mustering up some last dregs of energy, Mabel asked what had been weighing on her mind.

“Do you really think Addi was working for Bill? I mean, the necklace didn’t have an eye. It was just a triangle,”

“I don’t know,” Ford said tiredly. It must have been the millionth time she had asked that question.

“I really liked her,” Mabel said sadly.

“I know. I’m sorry,”

After a moment Ford drew the blankets around her tighter. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

He’d said that every night since she’d gotten a fever. She never did, but thankfully it was always easy to fall asleep. Waking up was the difficult part.

⃝

Ford woke up to the click of a weapon two sand dunes over. Quietly and quickly, he shook Mabel awake and checked that the smouldering coals of the fire were not bright enough to give away their position. Then he stuffed all their possessions into their bag, leaving one blanket around the girl. They were ready to move in under a minute.

When he took Mabel’s hand she was shaking. Not only her fingers, but her legs were trembling as if they were unused to the strain of lifting her, and her shoulders were heaving with the effort of suppressing violent coughs. Feeling his mouth go dry, he looked into her eyes. Their brown usually full of life, it was shocking to see how exhausted they were now. She seemed only half aware of what was going on.

Enough was enough. Once they were through the portal he was getting her to a hospital.

They made it across three sand dunes before their pursuers caught sight of them. Breaking into a run, Mabel was forced to stumble forwards with him as best she could. Unable to hold it in anymore, she dissolved into a full-blown coughing fit.

When the blue disc of the portal burst into brilliance ahead of them, the pursuers started shouting. A variety of languages met Ford’s ears, those that he understood phrasing questions.

“Stop! Who are you?”

“What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

“This is a warning shot!”

The sand next to them exploded, red lasers leaving afterimages across the dark sky. Ford instinctively threw himself in the opposite direction, cannoning into Mabel. Then he was on his feet and drawing his own gun, only to have it magnetically ripped out of his hands.

“Do not move,”

Ford reached out to push Mabel behind him, but the only resistance his hand met came from air. Ready to dive at the nearest assailant if they had so much as singed his niece, his head snapped around to see her on her hands and knees coughing so hard into the sand it sounded painful. He started towards her but another warning shot flew between them. He froze.

For a few seconds, all Ford could hear was the pulse pounding in his head and the agonised gasps for breath coming from his niece. Then the two pursuers began their interrogation.

“Tell us why you are here!”

“You were armed. That does not suggest a benign intention,”

“Are you affiliated with Wikert Expansion Enterprises?”

Mabel tried to say something, but all that came out was a croak, quickly overtaken by more coughs.

“We’re just travellers, we’re only passing through-” Ford tried.

“Travellers do not live like criminals,”

“What is wrong with the child?”

“I don’t know,” Ford said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mabel was trying to get their attention. She waved an arm out ahead of her in lieu of words, or so Ford initially thought. Her coughs were coming harder and faster than ever, leaving her with barely enough time to breathe. Her condition was rapidly worsening. Could she be hallucinating? Was that why she was waving like that? Various thoughts presented themselves to him with lightning speed, but no solutions were among them.

With a huge rattling breath, Mabel gave one last cough. There was a muted splat as something dribbled out of her mouth and hit the sand. Ford’s heart seemed to stop as the portal gave one last flare before it disappeared, showing him clearly the red blood his little girl had choked out.

She shakily wiped her mouth and stood up, swaying. Then she made the hand signal she had been previously struggling to: a wrist rotation, followed by splayed fingers. After a very still moment, the two others echoed it.

Right then, the words “Come with us. We can help,” were the only ones necessary to convince Ford to trust them.

⃝

The structure was a monumental block in the middle of the desert. It was as big as a town, and twenty stories tall. Ford was not sure how they had missed it when they had arrived.

Another cough brought his attention back to Mabel. The following sob caused his throat to close up. More on edge than he had been in years, he hurried them both through one of the entrances, their two guides signalling the guards to let them in.

There were only a few people in this section, all wearing a black symbol on their clothes identifying them as medics. A small wave of relief flowed over him, and he looked down at Mabel as –

- as her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs finally buckled. Catching her before she hit the ground, Ford barely registered the panicked shout that left him, inducing the medical personnel to all hurry towards the commotion.

Ford swiftly checked Mabel’s breathing and heart-rate, neither of which were good. Her skin was clammy when he had been sure it was feverish only earlier that day. She was twitching slightly, but not seizing, which was indicative of –

A green, tentacled being started to pull his niece out of his arms. Instinctively, he jerked back, attempting to tighten his hold on her, but the stranger was already rushing away with the girl. Another swell of panic caused him to lash out, to try to stop them from moving out of his sight, even though he was dimly aware that it’s okay, they’re a doctor, they know what they’re doing. The hands of the guides closed around him for restraint, which only made him struggle harder. There was shouting, a call for help, an unintelligible reply, and a sharp prick in his right arm.

Fuck, was his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. Again.  

[operationrainfall]

Title Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes Developer Grasshopper Manufacture Inc. Publisher Grasshopper Manufacture Inc. Release Date January 18th, 2019 Genre Action Platform Nintendo Switch Age Rating M for Mature 17+ – Blood, Drug Reference, Partial Nudity, Strong Language, Violence Official Website

Let me clarify something really quick. Travis Strikes Again is NOT No More Heroes 3. That was my initial assumption, and it’s important that those of you reading this understand the difference. See, Travis Strikes Again is a gaiden game, and that shows in many ways. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still very much No More Heroes, and is pungent with that insane musk the series is known for. Suda51 has crafted an entry that often defies expectations and regularly defies logic. But in some ways, it’s very much the first of its kind. The question then, is if that’s a good thing? And more importantly, does Travis Strikes Again make up for the nine-year hiatus since the Wii?

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Travis Strikes Again starts with an epic cutscene that I’m sure most of you have already seen. Badman, the father of the murderous, bat-wielding Bad Girl, wants revenge on Travis for her death. He hunts him down, and finds Travis roughing it in his outdoor trailer. Banter is exchanged, winks are made at the audience, and then things get especially weird. Apparently, at some point Travis found a nigh impossible to locate game console called the Death Drive Mk II. Think the Virtual Boy combined with VR and you’re on the right track. Somehow the game machine suddenly comes to life and sucks both Travis and his assailant into a strange game world, and thus begins our story.

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In the first world, Electric Thunder Tiger II, Travis quickly finds out that the Death Drive games are all full of dangerous bugs, who are all out to kill you. The system itself was created by an ahead of her time genius, Dr. Juvenile. Not only does her system draw in the players, but there’s also a myth about the game cartridges, called Death Balls. By collecting six of them, the owner can have their dearest wish granted. If that sounds familiar, then just wait, cause Travis Strikes Again has a shit ton of references to popular culture, from anime to other video games and much more.

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While I was drawn in quickly by the opening sequence, once you beat the first world the plot meanders unexpectedly. Badman was initially hellbent on murdering Travis, but after they both come out of the game, it seems things have changed. The game doesn’t really address this change of heart, mind you, and you’ll see Badman wandering the trailer between stages. Though his presence does serve a functional purpose for co-op, his sudden lack of menace really hurts the urgency of the story. It wasn’t clear to me what exactly was happening, and it isn’t til much later that it seems apparent Travis and Badman are suddenly working together. It’s possible I missed something in the copious amount of dialogue in the game, but if not this sudden shift was puzzling. Thankfully, while the story in no way is actually about Travis vs Badman, the other tangents it goes on are pretty interesting by themselves.

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Each of the Death Ball titles is a reference to popular culture’s past. For example, Life is Destroy starts off with a bloody sequence that made me instantly think of Night Trap. Another, Golden Dragon GP, has vector graphics that strongly reminded me of Tron. They all have their own vibe, and that goes double for the epic Archive material about them. These materials are a nod to old Nintendo Power style magazine coverage, and feature commentary, art and even secrets that you can check out in each level. I was frankly stunned by how much work went into making a bunch of flavor text that the majority of gamers won’t even bother reading, though I’d say those gamers are missing out. The essential flavor of this game is one that embraces and parodies the video game phenomenon. I loved all the little nods to classics, both obvious and more esoteric.

My only real complaint is that the stages themselves don’t start offering really standout features until later in the game, about four stages in. Keeping in mind there are only six stages in the game, that was a bit of a letdown. Mostly because without unique aspects like Golden Dragon GP’s racing, stages mostly break down to ‘fight all the enemies, kill the boss, rinse and repeat.’ I guess part of my issue with the relative monotony of the experience is I have fond memories of the NES-styled minigames from No More Heroes 2: Desperate Struggle. The amount of diversity in those was really great, and though they could get frustrating, I enjoyed their inclusion. Which brings us to the combat in Travis Strikes Again, and how different it feels from the rest of the series. Note that I didn’t say worse, but it is worth covering how significant a departure it is from the first two games.

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More Travis on Page 2 ->

While the first No More Heroes games were action adventure games more in the vein of Bayonetta or Devil May Cry, it would be easier to compare Travis Strikes Again to Gauntlet. You’ll wander forward, get gated in areas with enemies, and need to kill them to proceed. Don’t get me wrong, there are still recognizable features like how Travis “charges” his Beam Katana and flashy super attacks, but in every other way they are something different. For one thing, you have zero control over the camera now, and Suda likes to move it around to display the action in unique ways. Some stages will have a top-down view, others you’ll be able to see a more open area, and some function like 2D platformers. Another stark departure? There are no wrestling moves (well, almost), no blocking and no QTEs during regular combat.

Things have been stripped down in many ways, though perhaps not bad ones. Yes, I had fond nostalgic memories of the combat in the first games, but after watching them again, I realized something: there was a lot of unnecessary and frustrating elements to the combat before. I don’t miss playing around with the camera, I don’t miss blocking tons of attacks and I don’t miss the QTEs, but I do still wish there was a bit more nuance to combat here. You have a weak attack you can literally swing rapidly in succession, a heavy attack, jumping attacks, a dodge and that’s pretty much it. Beyond that, there is a feature where you fill up your katana charge meter and, when full, can unleash a massively powerful series of attacks, as well as skills. Skills are totally new to the series. As you progress, you’ll unlock skill chips, and can equip up to four to any of the directional buttons. By holding L and pressing a directional input, you’ll unleash the skill. There’s a wide range, from lightning blasts that stun foes to bombs that detonate after a set amount of time to a healing field and much, much more. Each of them has a cooldown until you can use them again, so it behooves you to use them sparingly and carefully.

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Point being, it probably doesn’t sound much like a No More Heroes game right now. And that’s both good and bad. While I did grow to enjoy the combat, it tends to get a little monotonous, at least for fighting regular enemies. The variety comes from the enemy diversity (there are a lot of different types) and playing around with your skill loadout. Another unique aspect is that Travis gains EXP and can use it to level up. Sadly, all that does is increase his ATK and HP. I really would have loved a skill tree or something similar. I also miss learning optional techniques in the first games. But having said that, there is one area where Travis Strikes Again truly feels like a Suda51 game: the epic boss fights. Though there are only six total, they each are dripping with style and creativity. From a teleporting serial killer to a old man in a wooden mech suit to a supernatural skeletal avenger, you won’t get bored with any of them. Best of all, they all battle very differently, which requires you to fight smart, pay attention to attack patterns and not rush in blindly. I tried hack-and-slash a couple times, and was always met with painful failure. While it goes double for the boss fights, all these tactics are also important for regular combat.

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You’d think this review was almost done, having covered the plot, style and combat, but there’s another area that I need to spend more time: the references. Earlier I talked about some of the popular culture nods, but I doubt you understand the extent of them yet. One example? Practically all of the T-shirts Travis can buy in this game are from indie games. Even some that aren’t out yet, like Wargroove. I had a blast rocking out with Bit. Trip. Runner, Hollow Knight and Dandara shirts, but there’s so many more. Despite having beaten the game, I still need more cash to purchase all of them, as there’s 60+. But that’s not all. Another area where you see Suda’s love for gaming is in the text-based interludes between stages. No, you didn’t hear me wrong. There are many sections where Travis rides on his Schpeltiger with his kitty Jeanne and searches for more Death Balls. These segments are completely linear, but god are they entertaining. All sorts of crazy cameos abound, such as Travis searching in a Romanian Castle for a certain Count, to characters popping in from The Sliver Case and The 25th Ward, to even more I’m afraid to ruin. Best of all, during these sections Jeanne is magically able to talk, and she’s one sassy feline, even for a fat cat. One of my favorite nods is whenever you boot up a Death Ball, and the Death Drive logo sounds, reminding me of Sega’s old tune. Point being, if you love fourth wall breaking shennanigans and referential nods to pop culture, Travis Strikes Again is chock full of it.

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As for the aesthetic design, for the most part I love it. There’s a purposefully grungy, old school vibe to the way every stage is presented. While it may seem primitive, I suspect it’s a completely intentional move on Suda’s part. After all, the Death Drive Mk II is supposed to be an old, esoteric game system, so why wouldn’t the stages on it look like old games? Having said that, there’s a lot of beautiful art in the game. While the bosses are all full of color and chaos, the enemies are also varied and strange. Going with the “death” theme, each of the bugs has a skull face, and their bodies can be wildly different. Some are humanoid, others have tentacles and some are gargantuan hulking beasts. I also loved the variety of art used in the game introductions, as well as the green-hued art in the Travis Strikes Again text segments. The one area I felt that the art fell short, however, was how small the character models generally were. Often that was due to the camera placement, but when comparing it to the older games, it was really striking. Musically, the game is a wonder. Each stage has their own tunes, and the sound effects are perfect. Travis grunts, swears and yells as he fights, which does a great job of conveying his intensity. While there is a bit less profanity than in previous games, there’s also less voiced dialogue. While unfortunate, again it makes sense given the focus of the game taking place in a old game system. After all, most older games didn’t have voice acting. Overall though, the art and music come together beautifully to represent this strange game.

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Most of my 14 or so hours with Travis Strikes Again were positive, but there are some areas I feel it could have improved. A more minor complaint is the load times. Frankly, they are way too long, lasting upwards of more than a minute. Another complaint regards the combat. Though it’s pretty simple, there is real satisfaction to be had when you’re going for a high score, since doing so requires smart dodging to retain your katana charge. The problem is that a couple of factors work against you: the camera placement and enemy aggression. If you take too much damage, you’ll lose your charge level, and many times I would get hit by a projectile from off screen doing just that. Later in the game, they introduce some rather aggressive foes, including one that fires a barrage of bullets at you. That same enemy also likes to rush you, pushing you into the corner, and attack you frenetically to keep you from responding. This made it very hard to retain my full katana charge for extended periods, and of course the game grades you on exactly that.

A similar complaint is that your chip attacks can be interrupted by enemies, and then you have to wait for them to recharge. This was beyond irritating, especially when the game gets super frantic later on (and I played on Mild). Also, apparently some skills don’t work on some enemies. Once I tried using my standby Wing Chip at a foe, which fires a paralyzing bolt of electricity, only for it to be unaffected. It would seem some foes have elemental protection to certain attacks, but given there’s no bestiary, I was never clear on that. And while this last one isn’t about something Travis Strikes Again does wrong, it is about something shockingly absent from the game: the gratuitous violence. I remember blood gushing, beheadings and all sorts of mayhem in the first games, but that’s barely present. Again, that may be an intentional thematic choice by Suda, but if so it was a bit perplexing.

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In the end, I did enjoy Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes, but it felt like a placeholder until we get No More Heroes 3. It’s not all bad, and I did enjoy a lot of it, but when everything is coupled with a very perplexing ending, I wasn’t sure what to think. Thankfully, it’s pretty inexpensive at $29.99 for the digital version, and if you are a completionist, there’s a lot to do after you beat the game, such as finding secrets, buying T-shirts and getting better scores. I only managed to get one A in my time with the game, and many Cs and a couple Bs. If that wasn’t enough, a recent update added New Game+ and the Spicy difficulty, if you feel like a tough guy. And if you bought the physical version, you’ll be able to try out two DLC adventures in coming months (or pay for them individually digitally). Sure, the game didn’t go at all where I expected, and played rather differently from previous games, but it’s also a good reminder of the mad genius of Suda51. His capacity to constantly take risks and reinvent his games is impressive, even if it does occasionally provide mixed results. If nothing else, at least it seems likely we won’t have to wait too much longer for the next game…

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[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”3.5″]

Review Copy Purchased by Author

REVIEW: Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes Title Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes

[atanih88]

FIC: Piece by Piece - Chapter 11 (Marvel MCU, Tony/Peter)

Title: Piece by Piece Pairing: Tony Stark/Peter Parker Rating: Explicit Chapter: 11/13 Summary: Three years after the end of the Infinity War, the world prepares to celebrate its third anniversary of freedom. The world doesn’t realize that the heroes who fought for them are a little broken. But hey, maybe broken together, is better than broken and apart.

Notes: Written for Marvel Big Bang 2018 and originally posted on my AO3. Go there for full fic. Will be posting one chapter a day here.

CHAPTER 11

‘Wow.’ Pepper comes into view in the mirror. She stands by the door, hand curled around the handle. Her dress sweeps all the way to the floor, the royal blue stunning on her. ‘Didn’t think you’d remember that this is actually going to happen today.’

Tony gives up on the bow tie and lets it fall to drape around his neck and turns his back on his reflection. ‘Yeah well, next time don’t bribe my AI.’

‘Next time, just show up to the planning meetings like you’re supposed to. Everyone else should be arriving.’ She dusts an invisible speck off his shoulder. ‘Where’s Peter?’ She reaches for the bow tie and starts to get it done, movements quick, efficient.

Tony looks down his nose to observe Pepper’s handiwork. ‘Went to pick up May. He’s meeting us there.’

‘Okay. I swear, the two of you are more alike than you’d expect. Getting the kid to even agree to a tux was a nightmare.’

‘He’s not a kid.’

Pepper pauses.

Okay. So maybe it comes out harsher than he meant it to. But isn’t that what everyone’s been telling him non-stop every time Tony even thinks the word?

Slowly Pepper lifts her eyes to Tony. The considering look in them has him hoping that she won’t poke too deeply into this one. He’s not sure he can handle losing Pepper twice. He barely even has her now.

Pepper finishes fixing his bow tie, not looking away from him and smooths the gleaming black lapels of his tux. ‘No,’ she says softly and drops her eyes, ‘you’re right. I hope you remember that, Tony.’ She steps back and gives him a once over. Her smile when she pastes it on her face is bright. She clasps her hands together. ‘You look good.’

‘I know.’

It gets a small laugh out of her. ‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go.’

Tony tucks his phone in the inside pocket of his tux and buttons it up. ‘Where’s Mitchell?’

‘It’s Martin. Don’t be an ass, Tony.’

‘Can’t help it, seems to be my natural state.’

~

Tony’s accustomed to blinding flashes of lights and microphones being shoved in his face. He bares his teeth in smiles he doesn’t mean and drops a few comments wrapped in barbs that make reporters hiss at him and mutter under their breaths—Tony catches the quiet

motherfucker

one particular reporter turns away to utter between clenched teeth. He also doesn’t care. He just keeps going, Pepper at his side, close but not too close.

‘FRIDAY, tabs on Peter Parker?’ Tony asks as they walk and he’s forced to wait when Pepper is too polite to tell an asshole reporter who steps into her path to fuck off. Tony lets her handle it. Pepper doesn’t need anyone to rescue her. She proved that one a long time ago.

‘Mr. Parker arrived twenty-three minutes ago. Mr. Parker is accompanied tonight by Mrs. May Parker. They are currently in the main lounge reserved solely for members of the Avengers Initiative.’

‘Alright. Tell him we’re on our way up.’

Pepper must catch what he says because she glances over her shoulder and gives Tony a small nod of acknowledgement, making a subtle gesture for Tony to hold on. A few seconds later, she’s back at his side.

There’s a chilled breeze tonight and the skin on her arms is raised against the cold. ‘So you’re still keeping tabs on him like that,’ she says, slipping her arm through his.

They walk the red carpet, the blue of Pepper’s dress dragging behind them as they head for the automatic glass doors. They’re supposed to watch the fireworks and the unveiling from the rooftop.

‘Turns out,’ he says, motioning her in before him, ‘it’s mutual tab keeping.’ The warmth of the compound wraps around them and Tony slips a finger between his neck and the necktie, wincing because it’s pinching. He wouldn’t put it past Pepper to have done it on purpose.

‘Tony,’ Pepper tightens the grip of her arm through his, drawing him to a stop in the lobby. The stewards are paid well enough that they know not to pay attention to the conversation. ‘Doesn’t it seem odd to you?’

‘What?’

‘This can’t all be just guilt.’

Tony’s not an idiot. He knows what she’s saying. He knows she’s right. Tony sighs and looks away. ‘It’s not. I don’t know what it is.’

Her eyes search his face. ‘Don’t lie, Tony,’ she says, gently.

‘Mr. Stark?’

Tony sucks in air like he can inhale Peter’s voice.

‘Ms. Potts, you look beautiful!’

‘Thank you, Peter. I like the tux, who picked it?’

‘May,’ Peter laughs, ‘if I’d picked it then I think security would’ve kicked me out.’

‘What do you think Tony?’ Pepper asks and touches Tony’s arm.

The thing is Tony doesn’t even need to look to know that he’s going to feel it like a kick in the gut.

Tony’s wrong.

It’s not a kick in the gut. It’s more like having Thor call down thunder on him. That’s what the sight of Peter does to him right now.

He looks—yeah.

May has good taste. Great taste. Amazing, even.

The three piece burgundy suit moulds to Peter’s form perfectly. It has the slightest of sheens to it and sets off Peter’s skin to perfection. His hair has been brushed back from his face. He looks sharp. He looks good.

No. He looks gorgeous.

‘Tony?’ Pepper’s looking up at him.

Tony clears his throat. ‘Yeah. You look great, Pete.’

The smile that steals across Peter’s face is amazing. ‘Thanks,’ Peter ducks his head. Tony sees the red spreading over the tops of his cheeks. ‘So do you Mr. Stark.’

‘Alright people!’ Fury’s voice booms in the building, accompanied by the clap of his hands. ‘Ceremony is about to start.’

Tony can’t help but blink at the sight of him in formal wear. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Fury in anything but his SHIELD uniform.

‘Let’s get it moving, Stark. Gotta share the limelight tonight.’

Before Tony can retort, Fury’s striding back up the stairs, Pepper at his side after throwing a grin over her shoulder at Tony.

Peter falls into step with Tony and they make the climb together.

‘You and Ms. Potts seem different,’ Peter says. ‘I’m glad.’

Tony shouldn’t be surprised the kid spotted it. Peter’s always had a perceptive mind, part of what’s made him such a big pain in the ass all these years. It’s also part of what makes him so valuable to this team. And to Tony. ‘That obvious huh?’

‘She’s your friend. You guys split up but anyone can see you didn’t stop caring about each other. I think it’s cool.’

‘Cool huh?’

Peter just smiles and continues on quietly by Tony’s side.

‘Where’s your Aunt?’

‘Oh. Right,’ Peter’s shoulders slump and he rubs a hand over his face, ‘I was trying to forget about that. May found Thor.’

Tony arches a brow when Peter doesn’t elaborate. ‘And?’

Peter sighs. ‘You’ll see.’

~

You’d think Tony would be used to it by now. But even for him it’s still a little bit surreal whenever so many of the Avengers are in the same room together. They’re not talking strategy or tending to each other’s wounds and carrying each other to safety. They’re just shooting the shit. Sitting around at the dinner table, on the sofas, by the bar with every single surface covered in some type of alcohol, songs playing quietly in the background.

It’s—

Tony chuckles and shakes his head at his own sentimentality. It feels good, even if it’s only temporary.

They’d flown in earlier in preparation for the anniversary that none of them are particularly excited about. T’Challa, Shuri and Okoye had been the first to arrive, bringing Bucky along with them.

The last time they’d attempted something like this, Ultron happened.

‘We should’ve done this sooner.’ Steve steps up next to him, leaning on the balcony and looking down at the people sitting and standing in little clusters.

‘I think you’re right.’ Tony holds out his tumblr and Steve toasts him with his bottle of beer.

Natasha and Bruce have broken off from the rest and are standing by the bar, heads together, backs to the rest of the room. Tony nudges Steve with his shoulder and gestures at them with his glass. He knows the minute Steve notices Bruce’s hand on the small of Natasha’s back because he hears his chuckle.

Thor’s interest in May is starting to alarm Tony too.

The unveiling of the monument had passed without much fanfare. For all that they were making this night about the Avengers, not one of them had chosen to go outside for the unveiling. The courtyard had been filled to the brim with reporters and high end officials all wanting to lick each other’s asses.

They’d stayed inside, enjoying the spread laid out for them and enjoying the simple pleasure of just being in each other’s company without having to worry about imminent life loss.

‘Think they’ll finally make it past first base?’

Steve gives him a sidelong look, tone wry when he replies. ‘I’m not really in a position to judge.’

‘No kidding,’ Tony snorts before taking a sip of whisky. He can sense Steve looking at him and knows more or less what he’s about to say considering that Pepper is among the people present, her hand in Martin’s as they talk to Rhodey and Maria Hill.

So Tony preempts it. ‘If that’s who Bucky has his eye on,’ Tony says, watching the way Bucky’s eyes seem to keep returning to the Princess sitting on the couch in the middle of a complicated conversation with Professor Selvic, ‘then you’re gonna have to keep a closer eye on his back. A little young isn’t she?’

Steve shrugs. ‘So’s Peter Parker.’

Tony doesn’t choke on his drink but it’s a near thing. Without meaning to he finds Peter. He doesn’t even have to look for him, like his entire attention had already been drawn in that direction. It should bother him more.

Peter’s at the dinner table that is still mostly occupied by others. There’s a stunned look on his face as he, along with the rest of the Avengers listen to whatever Wizard of Waverly Place is saying. Stephen’s got sparks showering from his fingertips as he talks—and is that a sigil he’s drawing on the table? Is that even safe?

But it’s not like Tony can ignore Steve forever, so. ‘Something you wanna say, Rogers?’

‘Not saying anything,’ Steve says and his tone is easy. He rests his arms on the balcony edge, hand loose around the neck of the bottle.

‘You know, I don’t understand how everyone falls for your goody-two-shoes act.’

‘I think it’s the face,’ Steve says, deadpan.

‘There’s nothing there, Rogers, let it go.’

‘Then maybe you should tell the kid to stop looking at you like that.’

Of course Tony automatically looks at Peter. He finds Peter’s eyes right on him, not even seeming to realize that he’s chewing on his lower lip and has checked out of the conversation at the table. Tony expects him to look away once he realizes that he’s been caught staring but he doesn’t. He stops chewing on his lip though and then goes oddly still. He keeps right on looking at Tony.

‘And it would help if you didn’t stare back.’

Tony jerks, snapping out of it. He gives Steve a filthy look but Steve just put his hands up and steps away, smile dancing on his face.

When Tony looks again, Peter’s head is down, body turned slightly away so that he’s facing everyone else a little better.

Tony can feel Steve’s smug silence beside him.

‘God I wanna punch you in the face,’ he says and then knocks back the rest of his drink.

~

It’s past two in the morning and the conversations which had been so full of energy earlier in the evening have changed into quieter ones with more weight, leaving a tinge of seriousness that’s hard to shake off. Most of them have squeezed into the sofas now, gathered the remaining drinks and food all on the table as they continue talking.

Tony’s in a good place, filled with amazing food and a pleasant buzz. It helps that Pepper had left with Martin earlier, because although they’re working on things and their new odd friendship is becoming something better for both of them, it’s still alien, underlined by an odd tension that Tony isn’t convinced will ever really go away. Bruce and Natasha disappeared a while back too and Tony hopes the two of them are finally giving what they want a chance.

Also, he wants to give them shit for it in the morning. He can already imagine Bruce’s face.

Tony tries not to think about how close they all came to losing this.

Peter, he notices, isn’t with the group and after a moment debating with himself whether he should or shouldn’t, Tony gets up and goes looking.

It doesn’t take much.

When he finds him, Peter’s on the upper floor, not far from where Tony and Steve had been earlier, themselves. The doors leading to the balcony are pushed far apart and Peter’s standing there, looking out at the view. The wind is fierce up here and when Tony steps outside, he’s surprised by how cold it is.

‘Had enough already?’ he asks.

Peter shakes his head. ‘No. It’s pretty cool, seeing everyone together like this. It’s nice.’

‘So you’re out here because…?’

Peter looks over his shoulder at him. ‘I don’t know. I just—got overwhelmed for a sec,’ Peter struggles to find the words, ‘I just thought, we almost didn’t get to have this, you know? And it just, I don’t know.’

The thoughts are eerily similar to Tony’s and he finds himself stepping forward. Peter’s hair is thick and soft through Tony’s fingers as he ruffles it. ‘Yeah,’ Tony says, ‘but we did. That’s the part that matters.’

Peter doesn’t reply but Tony feels the motion of his head as he agrees.

‘Mr. Stark.’

Peter turns to look at him and Tony’s hand slides down to the back of his neck.

Tony can still hear the conversations downstairs, the soft strums of the music that no one has bothered to turn off even though no one’s really listening. But Peter’s looking at him and Tony should’ve maybe thought this through because they’re standing so close. Tony can smell the hint of cologne that Peter’s wearing. Something fresh and sharp, cutting right into Tony’s senses. The skin of Peter’s nape is warm underneath Tony’s hand, the short hairs on the back of his neck soft against Tony’s fingers. Tony can’t see the color of Peter’s eyes in the dark.

And then he watches as the kid’s expression resolves itself into the same expression that Tony’s seen him use whenever he’s about to face something that scares the shit out of him head on. Peter straightens his shoulders and closes the space between them, head tipping back just enough. He steadies himself with his hand on Tony’s shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes search Tony’s face.

‘Shit,’ Tony murmurs, dropping his hand to Peter’s waist, eyes on that thin mouth because it’s so red in the dark and Tony wants it. Fuck. Tony really wants it. If his fingers dig into Peter’s side too hard, Peter doesn’t betray it, because his eyes just look hungry.

Jesus. He wants Peter Parker.

Yeah.

Tony’s going to hell.

Peter’s warm breath ghosts over Tony’s lips and a groan starts deep in Tony’s throat.

That first brush is just a ghost of a touch.

The crash followed by roaring laughter rips into the silence and Tony jerks back.

Peter is staring at him.

Tony can feel his heart pounding in his throat.

Shit. Shit. Tony wipes a hand down his face and slows himself down. Takes another step back.

Peter waits, hands clenched at his side. His face is turned away and there’s a muscle working at his jaw. Tony composes himself, wraps his fingers around Peter’s chin, thumb stroking into that cleft at the centre that can’t decide whether it’s there or not. He forces Peter to look at him.

‘Not here. We need to talk. After. Okay?’

Peter swallows, Tony can hear the sound of it through the quietness outside. Then Peter nods. ‘Okay.’

Tony searches his face. But there’s nothing there he doesn’t want to see. ‘Good.’ Tony steps back. ‘Let’s go.’

[thekingchad]

Brainstorming for L5R Game

OK, I ran a Shattered Empire campaign...about 3 years ago, and i’m using the world the players wrecked for an upcoming game i’ll be running. 

Background: The original setting is L5R only all the thunders died facing Fu Leng on the Day of Thunder. This means no restored empire under Toturi the First, and a Sengoku kind of enviornment for the players.

Now, I did have the presence of mind to write a state of the empire before shelving it, but it has been a few years.,

General Events: During the last days of the winter court it is announced that Champion Hida Kisada has died. His daughter Hida O-Ushi officially becomes Champion of the Crab. Her first official act is to arrange a marriage between herself and a very surprised Shinjo Yasamura, the son of Unicorn Champion Shinjo Yokatsu. Following the funeral of her father and her wedding, the court is thrown into further disorder from several announcements: First, that the Clans officially and publicly recognize the implications of the possessed Emperor, and that as the dark one his edicts held no force of authority. The exile of the Akodo Family of the Lion and the Destruction of the Scorpion family are ended and they are restored to their previous positions. A large number of Crab-Scorpion marriages are announced and the Scorpion are bound into a defensive pact with the Crab for a period of one generation. Many hostages are exchanged. A similar arrangement happens between the Unicorn-Scorpion, although the Unicorn gain control of Ryoko Owari, an issue that will cause problems in the future. The Second announcement is even more of a concern. O-Ushi bluntly informs the surviving Crane Delegates, led by Daidoji Iruko, her intention to seize all of Earthquake Fish Bay and the fertile land south of Asahina. She also informs him that if she has to take it by force her armies may not stop there. The Crane leave immediately. The Crab winter court is declared over. The Crab invade almost before the crane delegate reaches his territories, this action having been apparently prepared for some time. Caught between the Matsu and the full might of the crab, the southern crane holdings fold quickly, losing almost half of their land. A desperate defense outside the Daidoji Castle succeeds in stopping the crab advance, and a shadowlands attack forces the crab to withdraw to the lands around Asahina. Several heroes were made in the war, most notably the Bearer of Chukendomo, Daidoji Iruko. She led a party of warriors and ashiguru in a successful ambush of the crab general the invasion, Killing Hida Tsuru in single combat while the town burned around them. She is now the Heir apparent to the Childless Daidoji Uji. Unfortunately, pressed to the south as they are, they are unable to prevent the Mastu army, commanded by the “Butcher” Matsu Gohei, from taken Kyuden Kakita by storm and razing it and the surrounding town to the ground. Compounding matters, a few days before the Lion assault the Emerald Champion Kakita Toshimoko was slain in a duel with the Ronin Dairya, although the Ronin was slain as well. The Lion declare their honor has been satisfied for the Kakita fermenting rebellion in their provinces and return home (Thanks JOE!), leaving the northern Crane lands devastated. The Crane are unable to retake the land south of Asahina, but the crab are also unable to push further north. Famine spreads as so much of the most productive farmland in the empire is laid to waste. After five years of constant fighting, an armistice is signed. With the cranes enraged over the loss of territory and the functional destruction of the Asahina, it is unknown how long this lull in the fighting will last. Imperial Authority wanes throughout this period. With the death of the Emerald Champion, any semblance of Imperial Order dies with him. Increasingly, tales reach you of Emerald Magistrates being killed by bandits, leaving the service and returning to their clans, or even in a few cases, executed by daimyo for interference. The Imperial legions were largely shattered on the 2nd day of thunder, and never truly rebuilt themselves. Clan samurai leave the legions as their terms expire, and few new replacements are found. What remains is made mainly up from Suppun forces, and honorable Ronin. Clans stop paying taxes to the imperial court, and imperial authority only reaches Otosan Uchi and the Hub villages. The Miya are forced to cease the imperial gift, as funds run out. The Otomo have ended their long civil war, as following the unexpected death of the prior Daimyo, Otomo Banu has risen to lead the family. He claims relation to the fallen Hantei line, and demands the clans recognize him has the legitimate emperor. Only the Crane respond, but offer alliance, not fealty. Time will tell weather Banu has the ability to bring the clans under his influence. THE CRAB: The great bear of the Crab, Hida Kisada, has finally succumbed to his injuries from the day of thunder. Having spent the last years of his life dictating to his scribes the plan of action he believes the crab must take to survive in a fractured Rokugan. Following his design, O-Ushi invades the crane and absorbs the Sparrow and Falcon clans, who become families inside the crab. Their attempt to subjugate the fox were briefly successful, but the Fox Daimyo Kitsune Ryosai led a successful revolt by using the clan’s spirit allies and joining the growing Mantis Clan. This action strained relations between the crab and the mantis, but a costly naval battle between the two and this action drawing the Mantis unto the side of the crane in the war kept the crab from pursuing the matter. At the start of the year 1138, the crab have the weakened scorpion as allies, and enemies in the Crane and mantis, and poor relations with all other clans. Their navy is rebuilding from losses sustained  in the last year, and a twenty goblin winter has been declared (more to replenish manpower than due to the shadowlands being active).They are self-sufficient for the first time in its history, and while weak politically, are one of the strongest clans at the moment. THE CRANE: The crane clan now scarcely resembles itself from as little as a decade ago. Spending the majority of the last five year in war with both the Lion and the Crab, they have lost close to a third of their southern territory. The ancestral home of the Kakita was captured by the Matsu, who razed the castle and the dojo before withdrawing. The ancestral home of the Asahina was similarly captured by the Crab and was left in ruins, its town abandoned and largely destroyed. The Asahina were largely wiped out, with less than thirty surviving the war. Most of those that did survive have abandoned the traditional pacifism of their family. Many of them have, in fact, requested tutelage under the phoenix in the hopes of learning the war magic’s that may enable them to retake their lands. The crane have always been one of the most populous of clans, although they have traditionally trained a far higher percentage of their samurai for the courts or as artisans, this tradition is beginning to change. Modern cranes are far more warlike than in the past with many abandoning peaceful pursuits and joining the Daidoji or Kakita schools, and the Champion Doji Kuwanan and Daidoji Daimyo Daidoji Uji are undoubtedly planning some way to retake its southern holdings. The young Kakita Kaiten now leads that family and is invested in rebuilding Kyuden Kakita. The Crane are strongly allied to the Phoenix and Mantis, Friendly with the Dragon and Unicorn, Neutral to the Scorpion, and Hostile to Crab and Lion. They still have many favors they may call on, but the lack of power in the courts is beginning to wear on them. DRAGON: To the surrounding clans, nothing of import has happened to the Clan of Togashi, but the Dragon struggle internally as its ancient duties unravel. Togashi Hoshi, son of the Kami himself, shows little interest in ruling his clan directly…or at all. In his absence the Mirumoto lead the clan abroad, and more and more wonder why they stay in the mountains as the rest of Rokugan burns. The Family has extended its protection to the City of the Rich Frog after a Bandit army nearly sacked the city, but the move has drawn both the Lion and the Unicorn into the area to contest the action. The Mirumoto did not originally intend to annex the city, but with the other two clans looking on with greedy eyes, they may not have a choice should the Kaeru plead for protection. Rumors in the last year claim that Hoshi was nearly killed by an assassin or assassins, and Togashi’s Daisho stolen in the confusion. The Tattooed monks refuse to comment, although they are seen in the empire more and more commonly, always searching for something, or more commonly, a lost brother. They report to the Legendary Togashi MItsu, and his subordinate Togashi Wayen. The clan is mostly recovered from the 2nd day of thunder, and several of its commanders are agitating for the Dragon to leave the Mountain in force. The dragon are Neutral to everyone, although relations with the Lion and Unicorn are beginning to unravel over the City of the Rich Frog. LION: The Lion have done well these last five years, with the Matsu family successfully waging a blood feud with the hated Kakita and setting their famed dueling academy to the torch. Notable heroes from that conflict are Matsu Seijuro (Himself Trained by the Kakita), and general Matsu Gohei. This, of course, does not end the bad blood between those two families. That hatred was begun at the dawn of the empire and only the complete destruction of one or the other can resolve it. Despite the victory over the Crane internal divisions, once unthinkable, are starting to break the traditional lion solidarity. Not all were happy to see the Akodo return to power, and the first major act of the new Akodo Daimyo to raise a heimen to the head of a vassal family and fold a small army of Ronin into it incensed no few Matsu. While swords have not been drawn over this, it seems to herald a new era of strife between the two leading families of the Lion. Champion Ikoma Tsunari is an open supporter of the new Akodo Daimyo Kentaro, noting that Toku was long a companion of Tutori and perhaps feeling a kinship with the new lion over their shared teacher. The Matsu and the Hero Kitsu Motso chafe under Tsunerai’s leadership, and many whisper that perhaps another should lead. At the start of the year, the Lion’s military is stronger than all the other clans, although the Crab and Unicorn closely follow them. They have no allies, and are hostile to the Scorpion, Unicorn, Dragon, and Crane, and are unfriendly to all the others. MANTIS: Ten years ago the Mantis were a prominent minor clan known mainly for its mercenary tendencies and master of naval warfare. Now, it is a Great clan swiftly rising in power. The Yoritomo family has exponentially increased its strength by both freely offering Ronin the chance to join, and by absorbing several Minor clans; The Wasp, The Centipede, and the Tortoise. Refugees from the Sparrow who could not continence fealty to the crab, and the Fox, who lead a revolt against the same, further strengthened the Mantis. Yoritomo’s political situation is still precarious, however. Many of the new members bring unsavory pasts or have caused incidents between the other clans.  Offering the Fox protection compelled the Mantis into direct conflict with the Crab, and the scattered holdings of the mantis made truly unifying the disparate plans impossible in so short a time. The Mantis still function as an alliance of Families, and each family has brought its own politics with them. Yoritomo can only count on the absolute loyalty of the Tsuruchi family and their distant holdings from the Mantis Isles complicate matters. Being drawn into the war with the Crab cemented what was a cold alliance with the Crane, who made full use of Mantis involvement. Doji Chomei, the former Crane ambassador to Yoritomo’s Alliance, now holds the Distinction of serving two masters, as Doji Kuwanan has ordered him to swear fealty to Yoritomo to facilitate the Cooperation between the two clans. His twin oaths have not yet affected his duties, and with the current close relationship the Mantis and the Crane enjoy, it may not ever. The mantis fleet is swiftly recovering from the damage of the last years, but the cease-fire with the crab has allowed the Mantis to look into another, perhaps more troubling issue. Strange Ships of unknown design have been sighted in the open seas and along the Crab-Crane coasts. Swifter then the Mantis vessels, Yoritomo has not yet been able to force a battle with the strangers. At the start of the year, the Mantis are roughly equal in strength to the Phoenix and Crane, and are strongly allied to the Scorpion and Crane, hostile to the Crab and Phoenix (Who still look down on the upjumped “minor clan”) and neutral to all others.

PHEONIX: The Phoenix position is tenuous, easily the weakest clan in terms of military might, and the policy of freely inducting Ronin Shugenja has diluted the once overwhelming superiority of the Phoenix magical capability. The Lion openly argued that in its weakened state, perhaps the Phoenix should be reduced to Minor status, and more capable clans granted stewardship of their empty provinces. Only two positions have been filled on the Elemental Council, the post of Master of Earth, held by the shockingly young Isawa Teuruko, and post of Master of Fire, held by Isawa Hoichui. The Shiba Firmly guide the clan for the first time since the time of the Kami, and they have chosen to rebuild. They only emerged in force in the last years of the Crab-Crane war, to provide Humanitarian Aid to the lands of the Crane. The clan is also changing due to the influx of its newest members, becoming far less conservative then in the past. Many of these newcomers do not share the traditional pacifism of the Phoenix, but to date Champion Shiba Tsukune has kept them firmly under control. As they progress in their education, they may become a problem. Already several incidents have occurred between the Dragon, Lion, and Mantis. The Inquisitors report an explosion in cult activity in recent years as well, and it seems that several bloodspeakers have used the opportunity to infiltrate the Clan of Shiba. At the start the Phoenix are the weakest clan, behind even the Mantis. They have no enemies, yet, but only are strongly allied to the Crane. SCORPION: The reestablishment of the Scorpion Clan was bittersweet. The Recognition of the other clans that they had acted in the interst of the empire did little to mitigate the crippling loss of manpower and damage to scorpion territory. The greatest city of the scorpion, Ryoko Owari, is now a Unicorn holding, the Crab have taken the Shrine of Osano-Wo, and the mountainous Yogo Provence’s are infested by a large Undead army lead by Tsukuro and including the Undead Berserker Hida Amoro, and a large network of bandits lead by the Former Akodo Kano hinders the rebuilding of the clan of secrets. Many scorpion had spent the last decade cursing Bayushi Yojiro for disloyalty or even attempting to kill him, the revelation that he had been protecting the sword Itsuwari raised the opinion many held of him. The Clan is led by Bayushi Aramoro, brother to the revered Bayushi Shoju. His son Aramasu serves the lord of the Mantis as a ward and hostage, and the mantis look to be a major allies of the scorpion for many years. Many more scorpion survived than anybody realized, and the clan is stronger than the Crane, Mantis, and Phoenix, and many were revealed to have been governing their lands through proxies anyway, disruption from them reasserting themselves is kept to a minimum. The Alliance with the crab was instrumental in securing the resources and talent necessary to rebuilt its ruined fortresses. Aramoro has kept his clan out of the recent wars while attempting to rebuild, but the lack of a central government is retarding the re-establishment of scorpion political power, and the Lion flatly refuse to receive scorpion emissaries. Were it not for the recent wars the Lion have been in, it is likely that Matsu would have invaded already. Even more concerning is growing unrest throughout the peasant population, agitated by a cabal of monks called the “Pure Land” sect. At the start of the year, the scorpion are stronger than the Phoenix, crane, and Mantis. They are hostile to the lion, and friendly to all others, although the relationship with the unicorn are strained over Ryoko Owari. They have defensive agreements with the Unicorn, Crane, Crab, and Mantis, but those alliances to not obligate those allies to intervene in internal matters, such as bandits, peasant revolt, and undead. The majority of Scorpion attention is internal for the moment. UNICORN: The Unicorn may be in the best position of all the clans at the start of 1138. They survived the clan war more or less intact, and suffered comparatively few casualties on the 2nd day of thunder. Yokatsu has also kept his clan out of the recent wars and gained new territory in former scorpion land. Their lands are secure, their people happy, and their armies strong. This does not mean all is well with the clan of Shinjo. The Dragon have seemingly claimed the valuable City of the Rich Frog, an area arguably within the dominion of the Unicorn, the Lion have also claimed the area, and skirmishes have broken out in the area. During the feud between the Iuchi and the Ikoma it was revealed the Shuten Doji of Fear had been unleashed. Only the heroic actions of a band of peacemakers and magistrates, led by Miya Yumi, and the sacrifice of two Emerald Legions kept disaster at bay. The consequences were only known later, warped from surviving the event, Iuchi Shaihai, the daughter of the family daimyo, murdered her father and fled justice. She has since become a Maho-Tsukai of fearful ability, and a large part of the clan’s magistrates are committed to hunting her down. Given the chaos in the rest of Rokugan, Yokatsu has been heard to wonder whether it would be better for a strong man to take the empty throne, as this future inter-clan warfare angers the compassionate clan. At the start the Unicorn nearly match the Lion in military might, and lack the many enemies of the lion. They are unfriendly to the lion and dragon, and friendly to all others.

Now, there is even more, There was a few games after this where the party randomly backed Otomo Banu as the Emperor. The players then fucked off to the ivory kingdoms where they all died. But their legacy prompted me to write Banu’s Coronation and, given events earlier, they weren’t pretty.

Also, apologies, it did not port well from the document.

Oaths

Looking over the gathering nobles in the throne room of the imperial court, the man once known as Otomo Banu was still scarcely able to come to terms with the course of events that led to this day.  Two months ago the clans of Rokugan ignored him, but the threat of Gaijin invasion and the surprising support of several of the most well-known heroes in the empire had finally convinced all to recognize his greatness. His empire would last forever, he had only to lay the proper groundwork. 

Here, as he took the oaths of the Clan Champions as they returned to the service of the empire.

My Empire…

The reinstatement of the Hostage laws had been met unhappily, but was accepted without argument. Such a measure had been expected, as had the directive that all current fighting between the great clans would be suspended until the Gaijin situation had been resolved. The clans truly did seem tired of ripping into themselves. Only the Lion and Crab met those directives without grace, one because it truly felt it had done no wrong and the other because they had just lost most of their territory gains to a surprise assault.

The Voice of the Emperor, his niece Otomo Youme stepped forward to conduct the proceedings. His advisers had questioned the wisdom of appointing her to that position, instead of using it to placate one of the clans. He had ignored them. Her efforts had convinced the rabble at the Mantis court. She stepped into that mess with nothing, and helped cement his rule from that. She would want for nothing under his rule.

“Yoritomo, Champion of the Great Clan of the Mantis, step forward and offer your fealty to your Emperor.” Youme’s voice echoed slightly, accenting the delightful look of disgust that immediately appeared on the face of the Lion delegates. The whispering in the court clearly conveyed the opinion of the majority here was not happy with the Mantis offered the first opportunity. Nor the clear verdict that they were a minor clan no longer. Banu simply smiled beatifically. The best part was still to come.

The monster of a man moved forward like a storm unleashed, the barely restrained violence in his gait causing several of the Seppun guardsmen to tighten their grips on their weapons. Fortunately for them, Yoritomo simply kneeled before him. “The Mantis will serve the Emerald Empire, now and forever,” Yoritomo growled.

After the Day of Thunder, Yoritomo had given generously from his coffers to assist in rebuilding the capital. While they had ceased, as everyone did, in paying their share of the taxes they did keep paying them longer than everyone else. It was at his Palace that Banu’s ascension was assured, and to combat the Gaijin threat he’s sent nearly two-thirds of all his forces. 

Yoritomo was a dog…but a highly useful one. And perhaps with time…loyal.

My hand giveth…

“Yoritomo of the Mantis, most valued of my servants, I accept your oath of loyalty. Unto the Mantis I charge the protection of Rokugan from threats from the east. To deal with the Gaijin filth in whatever manner is to the advantage of the Empire, and the stewardship of those minor clans that remain or are established in the future. I also give leave to the Tortoise to join the Mantis officially, as the Hantei have ever held control over the fate of that clan.” 

Forgetting his place at the proclamation, Yoritomo looked directly into the eyes of the Emperor who took great pleasure in seeing pride, suspicion, and disbelief reflected clearly in the eyes of the Mantis Lord. Yoritomo stood after a long moment and returned to his place, slowly becoming aware of and scowling at the outraged look on several members of the court. Ikoma Tsunari looked at Yoritomo with open contempt, a look that was returned with equal vitriol as each rested a hand casually but meaningfully on their katana.

“Ikoma Tsunari-san,” you state, waving down Youme before she calls the one who should have gone next. “I met Toturi once, during the Clan War. He was your Sensei at one time, was he not?” The Lion champion looks at you in confusion…the whole court looks confused at your statement.

This will not do. I will tolerate NO cracks in the foundation of my realm…

“I disliked the man. Intensely. Do you have any idea why?” This was rhetorical of course, she would have no chance to respond before you continued.

Especially from this one. She should have been first to kneel at my feet…

“He failed. He failed in the most spectacular way possible.  An empire died under his watch. For that unforgivable offence, he was made ronin. For the audacity of praising his enemy of his skills, his entire family suffered.” The court did not take your statement well. To talk such of a Thunder was simply not done. Even an Emperor could overstep his bounds. As intended this insult to one of the saviors of Rokugan did not sit well with anyone in the room, and Banu had everyone’s complete attention.

“The Scorpion are responsible for that. Their treacherous leader poisoned him so they could murder your predecessor,” she states simply, and to the anger of the “treacherous leaders” brother. Before Bayushi Aramoro can assault the Lion you continue your trap.

Instead disregarding…even ignoring the power of the imperial families. Ignoring ME! Telling ME that Rokugan needed a stronger hand then I could conceive to manage it…and that I was no Hantei…

“Yes, I am familiar with that part of our history. If I remember correctly the Scorpion attempted to prevent the prophesized return of Fu Leng. They failed, of course, and the last Hantei of pure blood did become the vessel of darkness. Even disbanded, the Scorpion came out on the Day of Thunder, and risked annihilation in the service of an empire that hunted them. In the end, they proved that their loyalty was not ultimately to the Fallen Lord Shoju, but to the Empire Shoju died for.” With these words, the Scorpion are mine forever. Perhaps they will keep to their place this time.

Now she dares openly disapprove of my Vassal? One who actually did act as he was supposed to for his betters? She will not threaten my servants at my own coronation!

“Returning to Toturi, while the clans of Rokugan made deals with darkness (here gesture to the crab and phoenix delegates, who shift uncomfortably) or wared on each other for revenge (back to Tsunari) Toturi instead led an army of Ronin and Dragon against the proper enemies of Rokugan. It is largely through the efforts of a worthless ronin that the empire survived at all. In the end, he was the better of a great many samurai.”

Aramoro looked placated and confused at this. Tsunari merely confused.

“Tell me, Ikoma Tsunari-chan…” you say, your voice laden with false sweetness.

My hand taketh away…

“…where did you stand on the Day of Thunder, again?”

“I kept my oaths…” Tsunari starts angrily but you cut her off, leaping to your feet in an explosion of real anger and gesturing to the shattered back of the emerald throne.

“THE DARK BROTHER SAT HERE! ONI WALKED HERE! YOU WILLINGLY SERVED THE EMBODIMENT OF EVIL BECAUSE YOU CAN’T TELL THE DIFFRENCE BETWEEN THE SPIRIT OR THE LETTER OF YOUR OATHS!” Turning around, your back to the champions, you raise your arms to the sky. Toward the massive engravings that showed the events of the 2nd Day of Thunder.

“A thousand years of darkness nearly came about…” You pretend to be lost in thought for a moment. Everyone’s eyes are on you as the men assigned to this task take their places, un-noticed overlooking the court. “The Lion have ever been the strong right hand of the empire. But under a person like you, that hand turned against its body. Under you, the Lion strayed from service to the throne. I have not accepted your oath of fealty. You are not worthy to serve me. The Lion under your leadership, is like a wild dog. And know that none who would aid the Dark Brother have any place in my empire, regardless of their reasoning!” 

At the last word, the sound of several bowstrings shocks the assemblage. Most have their katana ready, staring at the Seppun above. Dumbly, Tsunari looks down at the arrows embedded in her chest. 

“And a wild dog cannot be trusted to know when to kill itself” You finish almost gleefully, waiting for her to die like she should. Many of the court show a look of horror on their face. The Crane and Phoenix Champions look outraged, while the Crab at least look ashamed.

“Honorless imposter!” Amazingly she manages to draw her blade and advance on you. Worryingly too. Isn’t anyone going to stop her? The Seppun were supposed to kill her outright. Can’t they do anything right? You can’t break, running from a dead women in front of the other Champions would destroy any respect this action would generate. Hoping your sudden fear and nervousness don’t show, you hold your ground. Just before she would end you, Yoritomo interposes himself. A brief, although entirely one-sided duel erupts before Tsunari falls, utterly unable to contest with the lord of the Mantis in her wounded state.

Yes. This dog would prove very useful…

Unable to completely hide the way your hands have begun to shake, you try to focus by returning your attention to the rest of the Lion delegation, fixing them with a disapproving glare. They return the look, hatred in their eyes. Hatred…and obedience, as one by one they return their katana to sheath and kneel. Oh well, so long as they know their place. You know that they will never forget, or forgive, what you have done. And the Mantis earned permanent enmity for Yoritomo’s actions today. Still, you only wanted them united up to a point. Enough to take orders, but not enough to work together against you.

“Perhaps your replacement will understand the true meaning of service to the Empire?” 

The Hantei are dead. But I will make sure that their legacy lives on…through me…

Oaths: Dragon and Crab

She should have been allowed seppuku, thought Mirumoto Sukune as he looked at the cooling body of the Lion Champion. How can I serve such a man? As the Mirumoto Daimyo contemplated the scene before him, the Voice of the Emperor again stepped forward. Ignoring the blood inches from staining her elaborately decorated kimono, she called the next Champion up to attend Banu. The Emperor. Sukune corrected in his mind. He would need to internalize this, it would take some time to come to terms with that toad on the throne.

“Togashi Hoshi, Champion of the Dragon and son of the Kami Togashi himself, step forward and give your oath!”

The being that stepped forward and knelt was not wholly a man, that much was obvious. His divinity was clear to anyone who looked in his eyes, his body larger then was humanly possible.

He should have been Emperor. None in Rokugan are more worthy then the living son of a Kami. And yet, as Sukune thought those word the voice of his Champion was clearly heard by all, though his lips did not move.

“The Dragon serve Rokugan, and acknowledge you as its Emperor.” 

The self-declared Hantei bowed to Hoshi, not deeply, but admittedly it was more than an Emperor was compelled to do. The acknowledgement of Hoshi’s divine status did not do much to settle Sukune’s growing apprehension at the whole matter. Particularly given what he had just seen.

“Togashi Hoshi of the Dragon, I accept your oath of Fealty. Moreover I give the Dragon a new purpose. For a thousand years your clan was charged with watching Rokugan. Yet the Dragon have remained apart from it. That ends today. We have seen an empire that tears at itself, as each clan grabs at power for itself, to the detriment of all. Your days of standing apart are over…now the Dragon shall watch for threats from within the Empire. To guard against the ambitions of men who reach beyond their place. And to burn out those who disregard the thrones authority!”

This is madness! The clans will never tolerate us…policing their actions. Next to Sukune, Agasha Tamori broke into an open smile, obviously liking the prospect before him. The Kitsuki lord was deep in thought, and his face was troubled. Hoshi’s face remained impassive. He simply nodded and returned to his delegation. Lost in his thoughts, Mirumoto Sukune did not immediately detect the growing tension in the room. The Emperor was regarding the Crab delegation with barely visible anger.

“Have the leaders of the Crab all retired? Or died in the recent troubles along the coast? Perhaps the Shadowlands presses the Wall, and necessity dictated all available manpower? Un-seasonal snows blocking all passage north, even? “His tone made clear he knew exactly where O-Ushi and her Daimyo were. The women leading the Crab delegation met his stare without fear or self-consciousness. Sukune realized that he recognized none of the Crab. He had no idea who this women was.

“Hida O-Ushi-sama offers the fealty of the Crab. She sends her regrets that she was not able to attend in person, but is unable to travel at the moment in her condition as her children are due any day now. And given the Cranes counter-assault on their former holdings, her Daimyo are indisposed in seeing to the clans needs. I am Hida Rohiteki, her adviser and cousin.” Banu looked at her with open contempt. He’s going to make another example out of her, Sukune realized.

“The Crab made alliances with the shadowlands during the Clan war.” Banu begins, listing one dishonor after another. “Assaulted Otosan Uchi itself with a fleet full of demons, Lost, and undead. Were played by fools by the Dark Brother. When Kisada finally had the decency to die, your Champion attacks the Crane, all but destroying a family dedicated to peace and razing half of Crane territory. Annexed several minor clans by force. And now,” Banu says with pronounced fury, “she has the audacity to ignore a direct order to attend her Emperor?”

“Does she believe that the Crab do not deserve to face the consequences of her actions?”

“We have paid in blood for our mistakes. The Crab will never again make deals with darkness, this O-Ushi swore over her brother’s corpse in this very place. As for the matter with the Crane, we could not rely on trade to feed the wall, so we took what was necessary.”

“That is not good enough. Not nearly enough to cover the debt your clan has accrued.” Banu says with finality, his face hard.

“Your Champion and her Daimyo will come to me. She will offer the Crane aid in rebuilding the lands she has destroyed. She will offer me her life to atone for her failures. She will repudiate the deeds of her father. And if she is VERY convincing, I will not feel the need to take the lives of her immediate family and servants as well. Her children will be fostered by others more loyal. Perhaps without being tainted by the spawn of Kisada, they shall grow to know their duty to the Empire proper.”

As Rohiteki sputters in outrage Sukune notes that many of those in attendance show their approval at the judgment. I can’t really take issue with that. Kisada had one job…one job….and he betrayed it.

“She will not accept this…”

“Then the Clan of Hida will cease to be, and another given its duties. The Mantis were founded by the True son of Hida, so the legend goes. Do not think she can test me on this, we have precedence for what happens to disloyal clans.”

The court went silent at that pronouncement. It was a poorly kept secret that the Crab nearly worshipped Kisada as the fortune of persistence. However this went, it was not going to go smoothly. Yoritomo even looked troubled by this, having perhaps absolutely no desire to take over the Crabs ancient responsibilities.

Finally finding her voice, Rohiteki finally begins to respond, “I will inform her of your edict…”

“Yes, you do that. Now. Your entourage will remain here. Should your clan be dissolved they will suffer for it first.”

“Now get out of my sight!”

As Rohiteki leaves and the other crabs escorted away by the Seppun, one thought stuck with Sukune, put there when he had returned his gaze to the Emperor…

…Why is he smiling?

Ok, I need ideas on how to have a party of multi-clan characters begin in such a messed up environment. The story will be mainly focused on solidifying the rule of the New Emperor.