#❛ i’m back between villages ﹠ everything’s still. ➴POST WAR.

[vict12r]

@netwoven said 〝 you didn't need me anymore. ”

 ‍  ‍ her frown etches deeply into a scar - borne visage, furrows wrinkling between the tight draw of her brows and the corners of her mouth arcing downward. one of those expressions that hardens the morning mist of her eyes into steel. rarely does she look upon finnick in such a way, unless she is in one of her worst moods -- the ones when she is burning from the inside out with her own self - loathing and cannot stand to be in the presence of another. ( but even he has withstood those, often. ) it certainly isn't what she expected, seeing him for the first time since snow's execution. ( since she took initiative into her own hands and executed coin instead. )

 ‍  ‍ “ what the hell does that mean? ” katniss sits straighter in her chair, pulling her elbows from the table -- creating distance. she peers into those emerald hues and can't help feeling a little indignant. it isn't what he meant, some part of her knows, but her defenses prickle all the same. “ you were home, finnick. with annie. of course i didn't bother you. but that doesn't mean i didn't want to see you, or -- talk to you. ” they had all gone their separate ways for awhile, after everything. had to carve their own paths toward a semblance of healing. and katniss . . . katniss had been so buried in her own grief, that most days it was a battle just to get out of bed. to walk the house her sister's ghost danced. she couldn't have asked for anyone's company even if she had wanted it. it'd been all haymitch could do just to force his way inside on the odd weekend.

 ‍  ‍ she sighs, lowering her hackles with some effort. “ we all needed -- time. you never had to be my caretaker, but i didn't . . . i didn't forget. ” not about their time in thirteen, clinging to one another for sanity while they watched their loved ones break and the world warred around them. just because that time has passed, doesn't mean she doesn't still appreciate his company. his companionship.

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.” 

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!” 

“Dwacawuys!” 

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?” 

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress. 

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her. 

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?” 

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop. 

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?” 

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.” 

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger. 

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here. 

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself. 

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.” 

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date. 

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything. 

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down. 

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand. 

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.  

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed. 

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor. 

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer– 

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!” 

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved. 

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air. 

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling. 

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but… 

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever. 

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?” 

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…” 

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?” 

“All very good.” 

“... Helaena?” 

“Yes, brother?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.” 

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!” 

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?” 

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.” 

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked. 

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.” 

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.” 

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?” 

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?” 

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.” 

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye. 

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie. 

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

[mumms-the-word]

Shadow Curse Events Pt. 1

Ketheric, Selûne, Shar, and Aylin

I’ve played through the game a few times at this point and I always find myself struggling to understand the timeline or at least order of events that occurred with the Shadow Curse. I know some things conflict because there was one version of the story in Early Access (the version where Halsin accidentally killed Isobel) and it was heavily altered for the final version of the game, and some things just got *gestures vaguely* waved away, but I keep wanting to make sense of it anyway.

So that’s what this post (edit: I mean series) is going to do. After the cut, obviously. Long deep dive post ahead! Picture of a tired Ketheric for attention and because same bro c':

TLDR: These events happen either in the 1370s or the 1390s. Ketheric loses Melodia (his wife) and Isobel (his daughter) and turns to Shar. He captures Aylin, then builds a Big Dark Justiciar Army, training them and forcing them to kill Aylin over and over. Meanwhile, a Selûnite resistance is brewing in the town, and it's kind of making everything worse. One Selûnite rebel even goes so far as to make a deal with a devil. And all of that is BEFORE the Harpers and druids arrive as an army.

We don’t have dates, unfortunately, aside from knowing that the shadow curse itself was unleashed about a century ago, so “timeline” would be a loose term to use if/when I use it. But I have two theories about when it happened.

One theory is that because the Spellplague was happening between 1385-1395 DR (during which there was neither a true Weave nor a Shadow Weave, which is what the shadow curse is made of), the shadow curse likely started around 1396-1399, just shy of a full 100 years before the game’s events in 1492. But that’s just me conjecturing based on the idea that if the Shadow Weave is gone…how does the shadow curse stick around? 

The other theory is that the shadow curse was unleashed sometime between 1371 and 1374. This is because a) Dark Justiciars were still being sent by Ketheric Thorm to destroy Moonhaven (the Blighted Village) in 1371 (Ketheric writes a letter about attacking Moonhave and a journal dated 1371 boasts that Ilyn Toth, the basement apothecary-necromancer dude, got killed by Dark Justiciars) and b) because Khelben Arunsun himself, the literal Blackstaff (super powerful and very old wizard), wrote a letter negotiating surrender on behalf of the Harpers.

We cannot be party to the suffering of the people of Reithwin, and indeed, of the great loss of life that this war will visit upon the Sword Coast - and, perhaps, beyond it. So it is written, and so let it be done, Khelben Arunsun, on behalf of the High Harper Council and its allies.

Wiki says Khelben broke his alliance with the Harpers in 1370 due to some disagreements, but it’s possible his splinter faction was at the battlefield with the other Harpers. I doubt he was there personally, but who knows. I wouldn’t go any earlier than 1371, though, because Baldur’s Gate II happens in 1369, and Jaheira would have been too busy dealing with those events to deal with Ketheric too. But it can’t be later than 1374,  because Khelben Arunsun dies in 1374.

(I have questions about how the shadow curse survived the Spellplague and the loss of the Shadow Weave, but the answer to that could simply be All Magic Was Weird and Unstable at the time…plus Thaniel was already in the Shadowfell by this time, so the land couldn't heal.)

So it’s either 1371-1374 (because of the Khelben timeline, and I guess the Spellplague didn’t affect it) or it’s 1396-1399 (because of the Spellplague, but the writers just forgot Khelben was dead by that point, or maybe his ghost wrote the surrender notice idk). Both are good enough for Halsin and Jaheira to talk about things happening “a century ago,” but you can see why I’m avoiding dates.

But let’s push it back a few more decades. Back when Ketheric was a Selûnite and Isobel a very small child.

As we’re probably all well aware, during this time, Ketheric worships Selûne along with his wife, Melodia. At some point, he even commissions the local Mason’s Guild to build Moonrise as a testament to Selûne herself, according to Morfred the mason (who you can talk to in House of Hope, it’s pretty cool). Ketheric and Melodia have Isobel, but then Melodia dies while Isobel is still pretty young. Ketheric remains a Selûnite, mostly for Isobel’s sake, until she dies too.

Ketheric: I’ll tell you a story, True Soul. About a man who sold himself piece by piece. He had…everything. A wonderful wife. A brilliant daughter. They lived not far from here. His wife died too young. Grief tore through their home like a thief, snatching away the scent of her hair, the rustle of her skirts. But the man did not break. He could not break. His daughter needed him whole, after all. She grew up—grew strong. Challenged him. Filled his heart with such joy it supplanted all sorrow. When she was killed, the man…he tried to remain whole, but it wasn’t possible. Do you understand? Player: So the man fell to pieces. Ketheric: The pain was unbearable. All-consuming. He decided he’d do anything for reprieve. First, he sold himself to the goddess of loss. But the pain did not subside, no matter his obscene feats of devotion. Then a new god came—a god who promised the man something wonderful: his daughter. Her life returned. Imagine it. He would have to give everything: his body and soul entire. He did not hesitate. Not for a moment.

We know this story. Ketheric turns to Shar and everything goes Very, Very Badly. But the exact details/order of Ketheric's Sharran days are a little hazy. So here's what I've been able to piece together to sate my own curiosity.

While Ketheric is still a faithful (but waning) Selûnite, Dame Aylin visits as an emissary of Selûne. Moonrise/Reithwin is a Selûnite refuge and the Thorms are allegedly devout favorites of the moon goddess, so it's a big deal. While she's there, she and Isobel fall in love. Ketheric disapproves, in part because Aylin is immortal and Isobel is not (Isobel and Aylin both say this in dialogue).

Plus, and this is a personal opinion, I think Ketheric might have seen Aylin's interest in Isobel as another thing Selûne was trying to take from him. It isn't enough that Selûne let Melodia die, now her daughter is trying to woo his daughter and take her too.

But then Isobel dies. Somehow. The launch version of the game isn’t clear how. Aylin mourns but Ketheric spirals. He turns to Shar, hoping she will force him to forget about Isobel, but he doesn't. Nevertheless, he becomes a zealous Sharran.

[A journal spanning years, beginning with the birth of a child and ending with what appears to be a series of dateless tragedies.] How can she be gone? Where did she go? The Moonmaiden cannot be so unfeeling - so cruel. Not toward her most devoted servant. Not after Melodia. It makes no sense. It makes no sense. I won't survive it. That much I know. Forgetting is the only possibility. The embrace of oblivion. The reprieve of nothingness. It would not be possible for a man to survive knowing what he knows. Knowing what can be lost. Shar understands that. Hers is the only mercy I can comprehend. My mind is full of holes - yet not enough. The emptiness. The time. The nothingness. And still I remember. Still I remember it all. There is no mercy in this beating heart. There is no mercy in life at all.

He builds the Gauntlet of Shar (or maybe renovates and Shar-ifies it, maybe it was already there) beneath the Thorm mausoleum, connecting it to the much more ancient Grymforge area. Grymforge becomes a kind of base or stronghold for the Justiciar army while the Gauntlet is designed to test their mettle and prepare them for the task that will make them official Dark Justiciars—killing Aylin, though it's not clear when Ketheric and Balthazar lure her into the Shadowfell.

I'll get back to that later.

We know that Grymforge was used as a Dark Justiciar stronghold and possible training ground because of all the Sharran stuff we find there. It's like super obvious. The feasthall room, the dormitories, the weapons that lay everywhere. There's basically a whole Sharran city in the Underdark beneath and near Reithwin, some of which we can see from various points in Grymforge. In fact, if you go through the poisoned room where Nere is, you can see the Gauntlet down below.

(It's a little hard to see here 'cause I play on console but there's a glimpse of the giant Shar statue that takes up a ton of space in the Gauntlet. Somehow, the two places used to connect.)

Ketheric's new Sharran teachings are ruthless and vicious. He encourages his Dark Justiciars to kill a Selûnite once a tenday or more as part of their training and service to the Lady of Loss.

The Law of Nightfall: From the moon falls the foulest of lights. iIt peeks through cracks and fissures, illuminating the most remote recesses of the Underdark. Light bestows hope, a pernicious notion which must be extinguished. At the darkest hour, pray to your Lady and feast in Her honour. The second day after, slay a disciple of Selûne. If none may be found, a Lathanderian or Mystran are an acceptable offering. Do this once a tenday, and the Lady of Loss shall know you.

Reithwin and the surrounding village soon become a hunting ground. Most people convert. Those who don't get hung in the square as examples (according to a shadow memory). All faithful Selûnites are forced to practice their devotion to the Moonmaiden in secret, led by Morfred the mason and his brother Halfred the innkeeper of Last Light Inn. Halfred hides Selûnite relics beneath Last Light (you can still find them) while Morfred plots a true resistance.

[Hidden amidst columns detailing the income and expenditure of a tavern is an aside, written in tiny, urgent handwriting.] I have concealed the sacred relics of our revered goddess in the darkest corner of this place. Morfred, my loyal brother, seeks to forge a network of allies to stand against the oppressive reign of Ketheric Thorm. Sadly, fear has gripped the hearts of many, turning them away from our cause. I cannot truly blame them, for trepidation fills my soul as well - but I must put aside my own fears and reunite with Morfred in the bowels of the Mason's Guild. Together, we shall preserve what we can of the Moonmaiden's light, and hope that the banners of the faithful soon rise against that treacherous dog, Thorm.

But as time goes on, Morfred grows increasingly distressed with the events happening in Reithwin and the ease with which people are eager to switch faiths.

- How quickly things change. The Thorms are Selûnite through and through - or so I believed. Perhaps Ketheric only converted for Melodia, and with her death - and then his daughter's - his faith died too. But to turn to Shar? It beggars belief. - Ketheric's Justiciars are growing greater in number, and more determined to rout out any traces of Selûne in Reithwin. Why do they think this town was built? One cannot rip out the foundations of a building and expect it to remain standing. - Brother and I remain the last two bastions of Our Lady of Silver in the town. A few - the trusting few - come to worship in secret by moonlit nights. Others - converts, all. Whether they truly believe, I cannot say. Impossible, isn't it?

(Don't worry, the second page is further down lol spoilers!)

Life is not going well in Reithwin, even if you're not a Selûnite. Ketheric is determined to destroy all traces of Selûne and treason of any kind. His Dark Justiciars begin tormenting citizens to reveal pockets of Selûnite resistance. He also suffers no treasonous word against him, even if the citizens in question aren't Selûnite. We see a glimpse of this and of the Justiciars' cruel influence during the questline with He Who Was and Madeline, who ratted out her friends' innocent(?) complaints about Ketheric to some Justiciars, resulting in their brutal deaths.

Eventually Morfred realizes that the Dark Justiciars are too powerful to resist and turns to Raphael, offering his soul in exchange for something to destroy the Dark Justiciar army.

- Sick of standing idle while Justiciars gain power in our humble town. What will become of us if we allow it? I met a man who was no man. Touched by a devil. Or maybe worse. But he offered me something I couldn't refuse - help. - The time is now. Ketheric's Justiciars, their stronghold in the temple below - they will be wiped out. All of them. I didn't ask how. I just want them gone. Let the Harpers have at Ketheric now. They'll make short work of him.

You can ask Morfred about this in the House of Hope, actually, where he confirms the details. I mean, he's in Raphael's house, so it's pretty obvious the he did, in fact, make a deal with him.

Infernal Mason: When tragedy came, my master fell into darkness and despair. He marshalled a great army to ruin the world and bring all into shadow. I could not let it happen. I sought out the devil Raphael and signed an infernal pact with him. He promised to destroy my master’s army, and I promised him my soul in return. The devil was true to his word. Fiends slaughtered my master’s forces, but he endured somehow, and blighted the land.

The Fiend in question here is Yurgir, who ends up crashing through Grymforge and the Gauntlet to kill all Dark Justiciars in his path. (He misses one, because Raphael is a sneaky bastard who let one get away by turning him into a swarm of rats, but I digress.) We know Yurgir caused the destruction in Grymforge, too, because of the Merregon masks and hellbeasts we find around the area, and the fact that if you pass all the checks with the Duergar mason examining the stone, he helps you piece together this narrative:

Stonemason Kith: An ancient city, hewn from the stone by the disciples of Shar, later abandoned. Untold centuries later, a new tribe revives it. Fresh walls, fresh sculptures...until a great hellbeast charges through, toppling the walls and crushing the people! Heh - that explains the infernal plate I found. Perhaps you might have use of it.

Further proof that Grymforge and the Gauntlet were once connected...somehow.

Anyway, by the time Yurgir is called in, Morfred's already been found out. Thisobald overhears him drunkenly complaining about Ketheric in the Waning Moon and informs Ketheric of his treachery. Ketheric orders a raid on the mason's guild, leaving Halfred the lone source of Selûnite resistance. It's unknown what becomes of Halfred, but considering the fact that the inn was still taking guests (like Art Cullagh) and housing the Harpers right before the shadow curse descended (there's a shadow memory of a Harper toasting his comrades in Last Light right before the battle with Ketheric long ago), it's likely he's a victim of the curse and not Justiciar brutality.

I’m not sure which is worse, honestly.

It's unclear when Morfred dies, though he admits to witnessing the first part of the shadow curse (i.e., "...but he endured somehow, and blighted the land"). But Morfred's deal coincides in some ways with the arrival of the Harpers and druids. I think he probably makes the deal with Raphael before the Harpers officially march against Ketheric and then gets caught after he hears rumors of the Harpers.

Raphael makes good on his deal around the same the Harpers arrive, perhaps a little afterward. This means Yurgir's slaughter of Justiciars in the Underdark must happen concurrently with the battle happening topside between Ketheric's army and the Harpers/druids, meaning Ketheric is losing his army on two fronts at the same time. Victory seems assured for the Harpers and druids, but of course we know now that Ketheric had a way of cheating death already in place.

He had already imprisoned the Nightsong in a Shadowfell soul cage.

Again, we’re not sure exactly when this happens, but it’s after Isobel dies and before the shadow curse, which unleashes with Ketheric’s supposed death in the battle against the Harpers and druids. However, Aylin herself says that Ketheric and Balthazar lured her into the Shadowfell under the pretense of saving an innocent.

Dame Aylin: He and his loathsome advisor Balthazar lured me into the Shadowfell, claimed they'd found someone in need of my aid. There they trapped me in their infernal cage. I was killed, murdered, made dead, over and over and over by Justiciars of every make and kind. I was reborn, for it is my nature. And Ketheric fed upon my immortality all the while.

This makes me think that Aylin wasn’t aware of Ketheric’s conversion yet, so it must have been very soon after, because otherwise, why would she trust a known Sharran telling her to enter the Shadowfell, the realm that is entirely under Shar’s control? I also suspect Ketheric built (or renovated) the Gauntlet around Aylin after her capture, perhaps at the behest of Shar due to their collaboration in making up new Justiciar teachings, or perhaps out of a sick, vengeful desire to see Aylin tormented for daring to love his daughter.

If this is true, then there’s a very real chance that Ketheric was unkillable before he truly started to torment Reithwin town, and well before the Harpers stepped in to take him down.

Anyway we at least know that Ketheric trapped Aylin in the Shadowfell before the big battle against the Harpers because a) both Isobel and Aylin talk about her being there for a century and b) because Ketheric is already using her invulnerability to survive assassination attempts on his life prior to or during the actual battle against him and his army:

23 Elient The Harpers came too close - they poisoned Father Ketheric himself, yet he professes no ill effects. Malus insists it a fluke. Doctor he may be, but he is no less a fool for it: Father has achieved that of which I can only dream: immortality. I have long suspected. I can guess Father's purpose, but I cannot fathom the means.

This brings us to the eve of the battle itself. But this post is already hella long, so keep an eye out for part 2, all about the Harper and druid battle against Ketheric!

[silverflqmes]

you are legit my favorite ffvii writer at the moment dude. if you feel like it, do you think you can write smth about being childhood friends w zack and reuniting with him one day? make sure to take care of yourself 💕 :)

໒⦂ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.

notes. HELP YOU’RE SO SWEET ANON??? IWOWJDJDK i haven’t written as much yet and i still have lots to learn but that really warmed my heart to hear 🥹🥹🥹 i decided to combine this with another request, i hope that’s okay with you both!<3

genre. fluff + angst

disclaimer. tifa speaking on cloud can either be platonic or romantic — whatever you wanna think just don’t start up a whole ship war bc it’s embarrassing as hell. obviously this is a zack fic so focus on zack smh.

zack fair x gn!reader.

“you’re.. leaving for SOLDIER?”

you shouldn’t be shocked, that was the last thing you should have been since you had been the one to encourage his decision.

and yet.. why did it hurt? you had known that it would, it was only naturally — but not like this.

zack averted his stare from the star blanketed sky, smiling solemnly. “sure am. you helped me realize that becoming a hero is something that i should do — that the world needed my kind of help.. so that’s,” he paused, allowing the evening breeze to shift his dark bangs. “exactly what i gotta do.”

you fell into silence for a moment, pursing your lips together as you considered his words.

it had been your crush’s dream from young, since seeing sephiroth on propaganda and hearing of his endeavors, to become a hero. the life he’d led in gongaga was wonderful, peaceful.. but you knew, deep down, he’d wanted to make that name for himself. that zack was.. meant for greater things.

and you, torn between your feelings for him and the need to encourage him as his best friend.. had no choice but to put aside what you felt to urge him to embrace his dreams.

when he received no answer, the raven haired teen took it as a sign to continue, leaning back on his elbows. “as of now, you’re the only one i’ve told about my decision — cuz well.. as you know, my parents aren’t super chill with it.” he laughed out, shaking his head. “so i’m gonna leave tomorrow night. got everything packed up already, a letter ready for them to pass on and i’ll be good to go!”

“tomorrow night? so soon?” you nearly interrogated him, only to respond with a slow nod. “you have my word, don’t worry about it.” should you tell on your friend? would that keep him just a little while longer if his parents knew and prevented his departure? would he hate you for it and finally give you a reason to stop feeling this way about him?

no.. you couldn’t live with yourself if he had hated you. that was practically death served on a silver platter, your heart would never start again if zack had expressed contempt for you.

for a second, longing flashed in his eyes before he allowed himself to grin, patting your back gently. “you’re amazing y/n!! i knew i could count on you no matter what! i’ll be sure to bring you something real nice from the big city!! and that’s a promise!”

a smile that didn’t quite meet your gaze etched itself onto your lips as you let out a hum of agreement. “you’re the amazing one, zack. i’ll..” miss you. “..be holding you to that promise, so you better keep it.”

three years passed and no sign of zack. the promise stood, but remained unfulfilled.

you should have expected it, that becoming a SOLDIER meant never seeing him again. you knew he was alive, a letter would have come if he wasn’t, and his parents kept you posted thankfully.

yet, there was still an emptiness you felt in his absence. every year, you’d told yourself that perhaps maybe, he would come home to visit this time.

now, having turned eighteen, you had decided to leave the comfort of gongaga as zack once had, and journeyed to nibelheim — a village in the mountains. it was small, quaint as your hometown was, perhaps colder, but after being offered a job through your parents, it called to you.

your mother had been from nibelheim and met your father in midgar — who had left gongaga to pursue a career in research as she had.

despite their retirement, they had developed many connections.. one of which, had been in the mountain village.

when you pleaded to leave and join up with your friend in the city he’d left for, your parents had urged you not to, and were strict on it.. as though something had been terribly wrong there.

you’d never asked why they retired so early on, and just assumed they had wanted to settle since they’d made their money.

but it didn’t.. fully seem that way.

“didja hear y/n? there’s a group of SOLDIERS coming down here tonight. ahhh, i hope cloud is there — i haven’t seen him in years.” your companion and guide sighed out, pacing about idly as you jotted down notes on your observations of the terrain.

tifa had been a friend you’d made upon your arrival. she was a year younger, but a real go getter and great help on your expeditions. in the beginning you worried for her safety, stringing her along as you did — only for her to protect you from the perils you feared.

you’d have to ask if that mentor of hers was willing to show you a move or two on self defense.

“cloud, huh? is he in SOLDIER, too?” you had told the girl before you already about your old buddy, as there was no possible way of her exposing your feelings for him.

and honestly, it was comforting to confide in someone for a change.

she nodded eagerly at your question, smiling softly. “he should be, it was his dream to become a SOLDIER, like sephiroth — that’s what he told me one day before he left.. and he’d promised to always protect me, no matter what.”

your writing seemed to pause at her comment, head lowering as you willed yourself to chuckle despite your anguish. “is that so?” zack, as you recalled, had dreamt of the same. “well, i hope he comes home safe if he’s a part of that group.” you smiled a little, closing your notebook before standing up from your crouched position.

“that should be enough for today, thanks for coming along again — i think i’m almost there with reaching my conclusion on this strange increase in mako spillage on the landscape.. but i just- can’t seem to put my finger on it.” you muttered, knitting your brows together before casting a glance over at mt. nibel- the highest point of the area you had moved to. “whatever, they’re keeping in that reactor.. there’s something really off about it.”

the burgundy eyed female followed your gaze before humming absentmindedly. “yeah.. i’m hoping those guys coming today might know or at least clean up over there.. i’d hate to see what might happen if the pollution intensifies down here.” she answered softly, helping you up before looking ahead. “for now, let’s get back — it’s almost sundown.”

at the mention of the visitors on their way from midgar, your thoughts went to your old friend, but you reprimanded yourself quickly. you would not have hopes again — as they only ever existed to get shattered and turn into despair.

and yet.. that one percentage asking but what if, remained.

the sun had drowned into billowing clouds, a shade of golden casting over the scenery as you walked beside your friend, exhaustion creeping up on you. however, you reminded yourself that the descent was always easier than the ascent.

“and we’re back, thank you for taking the tifa express way~” your travel partner giggled, earning a smile in return from you. she always had a way of brightening the mood with her optimism. kind of like.. nevermind.

the brunette looked around when she found the villagers gathered in the centre, adjusting her hat with a pout. “did we just miss them? i didn’t think we would be this late..”

you copied her actions, letting out a sound of contemplation. “maybe they turned in, midgar is a long way from here.. i’m sure they wanted to just take things easy for the night and start off fresh tomorrow.”

tifa paused for a minute to think before letting out a sigh and nodding. “i guess you have a point — tomorrow, then.” she smiled again, holding out her thumb. “i’m gonna be their guide, i’ll make sure of it!”

you rolled your eyes in amusement before nudging her with your elbow. “whatever helps you sleep at night, tifa.. i’ll catch you in the morning, in that case. i still gotta sort some things with information i picked up today.” a trip to that mako reactor and your research might at last be complete. perhaps.. you could convince the group in bringing you along- especially if your friend would be going.

it was the perfect in!

“mhm, see you in the morning, y/n! don’t be up all night doing that work of yours if you wanna wake up on time!”

with those parting words, followed by a wave, the female dressed in orange walked towards the direction of her home, eagerly greeting her father at the door before joining him inside.

your shoulders fell, a low exhale escaping your lips as you adjusted your backpack. and just like that, she was gone.

you made your way into the inn you’d been staying at for the time being, rubbing your eyes.

it was a temporary arrangement, given you hadn’t fully decided yet if you would be staying permanently in nibelheim. however, the living accommodations worked just fine.

you hadn’t thought yourself difficult to please, anyway. so long as you had the necessary essentials needed to live, all was well. that was what you’d learned growing up in gongaga.

entering the inn, you greeted the host before ascending the steps, pausing when you caught sight of a towering, silver haired.. male? unless a woman could stand at nearly seven feet.. and across from him, stood.. no — had your eyes deceived you?

“z-zack..?”

the conversation between the pair, whatever it had been about, came to a full stop as they turned to face you, shock painting on the face of the SOLDIER with the darker hair.

“y/n..??” he spoke up incredulously, blinking over at you as his jaw fell just slightly. “no way- what’re you doing here.. in nibelheim of all places? i thought you were-”

“in gongaga?” you asked with a small smile before shaking your head. “my parents found me work here, so i moved just a few months ago. never thought i’d see you here, before returning home, no less.”

zack could feel the coldness of your words, piercing through him like icicles tipped in poison. pissed was an understatement.

the taller behind him smiled awkwardly before moving towards his door, not wanting to be muddled into the affairs of his triend. “i believe you both have some catching up to do.. i will see you in the morning, zack.”

the boy in question parted his lips in protest, but the cat-eyed male was gone before he could do so. damn!

awkwardly, he turned to meet your awaiting stare, swallowing thickly.

“sorry, i’ve.. had a lot going on.” he confessed, lowering his head in shame. “i wanted to come home sooner — especially after making first class just recently- but things.. everything that has been going on as of late at shinra, it’s been really messed up.” zack confessed, clenching his fists at his side before letting out a glum chuckle. “and it just keeps getting weirder.. what were the odds i’d find you here of all places?”

you leaned against the window, folding your arms as you gazed out. “close to none. i guess it’s a thing of fate, maybe.” you offered, sliding your eyes back to his zircon ones. “seems my parents were right to not send me to the city with whatever ‘messed up things’ that happened.”

the SOLDIER nodded, allowing a brief silence to pass before smiling. “they probably were, yeah.. don’t think you would have liked midgar much, anyway. it’s all gross and industrial looking.. although!” he blurted suddenly, perking up as though he’d remembered something. “wait right here, i’ve got something i want to give you!”

you rose a brow at his random burst of energy, reminding you that despite the change in his appearance, the development he had gone through.. he was still your zack, and that wouldn’t change.

he disappeared into his room before you could answer, rummaging by the noises you’d made out, which had you shielding your mouth with your hand. “don’t get lost in there, now.”

“like i would!” he laughed before emerging from his quarters, holding out a messily wrapped box for you. “no matter where i went, i always kept this with me, thinking that maybe- just maybe, i would pass through our hometown and find you to hold up that promise i made to you. finally,” the spiky haired SOLDIER paused, grinning brightly. “i was able to fulfill it!”

you blinked in surprise, taking the package into your hand as you felt your face burn despite the coldness provided by the high altitudes of nibelheim. “you.. remembered?”

appalled, zack let out a gasp of offense. “remembered? how could i forget?? a promise is a promise, and i intended on keeping it!” he huffed out before raising his fists before him in excitement. “now come on, open it!!”

overcome with a sudden happiness, to know you hadn’t been forgotten despite the negative thoughts you’d created, you opened up his gift to you with earnest. a glimpse of green entered your vision as you quirked a curious brow. a plant? no.. zack wasn’t the type to keep plants.

finally removing the top completely, you stared down at the present before stifling a laugh into your forearm. “you- you got me a cactuar.. stuffed toy?” you spluttered in surprise.

of course he did — it was zack for goodness sake..

“sure did!! ya like it?? it looked authentic when i saw it in the window!” he answered proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

you continued laughing, unable to contain yourself as you held your stomach. “it’s so random- but that’s.. that’s just like you to get me!” you wiped a tear, allowing a smile nearly as bright as his, or perhaps- even brighter for a change, to replace your initial frown. “i love it a lot, but.. you wanna know what i love more?”

a mixture of interest and excitement sparked in his eyes as he inched closer, eager to hear. “what? what is it??”

having caught your breath, you closed your eyes, holding the plush close to your heart. “being here- reunited with you, again..”

like an invisible string, knots and tangles had appeared in the thread that connected you both. however, it wasn’t impossible to unravel and detangle that which connected you both, to allow an opportunity of reunion.

( even if it was the right place, but sadly.. the wrong time. )

notes. bittersweet open ending cuz well.. it’s nibelheim- anyway, i hope this was okay! i think my writing style kinda changed.. scary. oh well! the support these last few days have been much appreciated<3 tysm you guys, hearts out to you fr<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[sassykinzonline]

Going off on a tangent (I’m lowkey obsessed with your blog so now I’m going to yell my thoughts at you)

I get so disappointed at the lack of any lore drops between Naruto’s heritages like obviously the uzamaki’s were exploited and basically had a like genocide (Karin’s backstory had me so fucked) and maybe it’s to show how normal it is in shinobi society to just brush anything under the rug when it comes to genocides and systemic issues which duh but I wish I could’ve seen more nuanced stuff like diaspora between the few survivors of lost clans, how they survived or heck how they try to preserve their culture.

Idk maybe I’m not making any sense but as someone who has like no ties to my origins (AA, especially growing up to ppl denying AA culture and how AA culture gets sold) I wished I saw that kind of relatability in Naruto since he himself is basically separated from his culture and didn’t even know who his parents were I feel like that could lead to some like deeper stuff. I feel like Naruto would try to preserve his cultures and clans (he does in way ig in boruto but I barely seen that anime and that’s a whole other discussion with how clans are treated)

And in a way I guess it’s the most realistic part of Naruto like yea the ppl in charge might give a nod in acknowledgement of how they were bystanders and that the system failed ppl (if they even go as far as to accept that) it’s just to make the ppl they exploit/ed shut up and be happy that they were even seen in the first place (working class, blm, Palestine, Native Americans etc)

But god do I wish Naruto dived into the isolation of the lack of culture or even the lack of your own ppl can have.

first of all thank you for your support and engagement, it gives joy. feel free to yell at me whenever, i have a naruto so im used to it.

this is also something that used to upset me and now just frustrates me. i technically wasnt the last uchiha until after the war, but itachi and i couldnt communicate, madara cut ties with the clan, and just like me obito left the village as a child. one of the worst things about the genocide was this crushing anxiety of "what will become of our history?" i was old enough to have pride in the concept of "uchiha" but too young to have a meaningful understanding of it. and i guess deep down thats what contributed to my steady depersonalization and increasing franticness-- i knew there was really nothing i could do to preserve my clan so at least i needed to preserve their honour (and this was also why i understand itachi's reasons for not sharing the truth).

all this to say, my heart breaks for naruto because he doesnt even know what he doesnt know. and like you said, thats mostly a function of how konoha chose to operate. i still dont understand why they couldnt at least tell naruto about his mom. i dont understand why jiraiya didnt come back to teach him sealing. but i do know why and its because the shinobi system works best if you dont see yourself as an individual first. everything you are and have needs to belong to the state, and if it doesnt, then they will eliminate it. konoha took advantage of the genocide in uzushio to essentially traffic their women and then say there was "friendship" between the two villages...then do nothing to preserve the uzumaki or uzushio history. disgusting.

youre making sense. ive actually thought that naruto's case is similar to children from asia who were trafficked and brought to western countries post-war, completely removed from their culture and often neglected and abused for a culture they couldnt even own. i think the uchiha are a bit similar to african americans given the systematic lack of consideration for contributions to the development of society, the war between respectability/assimilation and self-determination/anti-discrimination, and like you said the commodification and demonization of culture. and i do agree with you about naruto, but i think it also helps him sometimes. for better or for worse hes...simple. he doesnt think too much about things he doesnt know, and that helps him get through his days with less of a load. he does have his bad days, where hes...lost, but if he were any other way he wouldnt be naruto. luckily the boruto versions of us arent real, but even then i think they make sense given what they were trying to accomplish with that show (ie. dumb down everything for the Manly Men who didnt get what was happening the first time).

when i was traveling after the war i did try to do some preliminary investigation into existing uzumaki refugees and diaspora, but it was a bit difficult though due to their history. ive been thinking about putting together an extended campaign and mission for us to reunify the uzumaki, for his birthday. i just need to figure out how best to go about it. keep it a secret between us.

[wolfstarhaven]

NATURE THEMED RECS🌿

Summer’s here, but I’m poor and stuck in the city. So, I wanna rec some fics that make me feel….nature-y. You know what I mean, now let’s go!

Beneath a Big Blue Sky, by eyra (69k)

Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

Eyra needs to be put first on this list, cause they’re most definitely the king of the nature-vibe. Always beautiful descriptions of nature, always. Go read everything they’ve written! You will fall in love with Yorkshire, trust me.

the private kind of purple, by greenscape (6k)

Post-grad summer. They are reaching for things they cannot name.

Or, it's four days out of Hogwarts and Sirius and Remus go wild camping in Scotland.

Beautifully written and slightly angsty—a perfect read for a rainy summer’s day!

How Fragile We Are, Between the Few Good Moments, by emergencymanagement (24k)

By the time it’s dark, there’s a fire crackling before them. The tent is set up. There are two chairs propped up by the fire. They have cooked and eaten dinner, and they are sitting in silence. It reminds Sirius of the dinners at home after he got sorted into Gryffindor, or after his mother found the letters from his friends, or lately, whenever he dares to show his face around the house at all. What lives in that space isn’t actually silence. Silence is absence. This thing that hangs between him and his mother, now between him and Remus, is the presence of something suffocating and cutting. It doesn’t serve as a placeholder for noise, it serves as a punishment. It cleaves him to the bone, flays him until he wants to cry. The soft, knotting feeling in his chest he feels when he wants to let tears out but can’t is rising in him. Sirius doesn’t know how to kill it except to hiss, “Well if you’re mad at me just fucking say so.”

Oh I love this so much!! It’s post-The Prank, and it’s done beautifully. It’s angsty, Remus is angry and the first war is coming ever closer. Also, it’s wonderfully written, making the Welsh nature feel almost dreamlike. It’s beautiful!

Highland Fling [+podfic], by picascribit (38k)

2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.

I read this a loooong time ago, but I still remember how this fic made me wanna visit the Scottish highlands. I also remember that this was a bit too smutty for me back then….perhaps it’s time for a reread.

Harmonicas, Hinky-punks, and Heather, by mblematic (24k)

Sirius and Remus get stranded in Scotland on Order business, and decide to walk to Hogwarts. Featuring the Brontës, a harmonica, a shrinking tent, and some self-discovery.

Once again: camping in Scotland, but this time with absolutely no angst! This fic is sweet and funny through and through!

Out There, by halictus (21k)

Sirius has to go backpacking to fulfill a college graduation requirement. He is comfortable in his own skin, he has friends, he has passions. But he's still learning how to fit himself into loosely-defined spaces. Remus is a graduate student leading the trip. He loves nature, and backpacking, and being outside, and smiling, and having lots of energy. They both have some learning to do—not necessarily tactfully.

Here you have some hiking, but on the other side of the Atlantic! Camping, skinny dipping and thunderstorms—and some strangers to lovers!

The Predatory Wasp, by munacy (23k)

Remus continues, “Alright then...of the survivors...I would marry Wormy.” Peter lets out an elated squeal. “I know for a fact that he can cook really well, he’s quite easygoing, and he’d make a wonderful little spoon for cuddling,” Remus winks cheekily at him. “Recipe for domestic bliss.”

“Aw, Moony, you’re lovely, aren’t you?” says Peter as Sirius mimes throwing up. Remus smiles, then blurts: “And lastly, well, I really want to shag Sirius, for obvious reasons.”

Everyone freezes.

What, Remus thinks faintly, in the ever-loving fuck?

This is so funny, and the nature-vibe immaculate! Features: camping, gay panic, James being lovely, and quite a lot of Walt Whitman poetry.

Go East [+Podfic], by xinasvoice (84k)

Remus has been running for a long time. Eventually, he runs into a strange castle built by a wizard and his young apprentice. The longer he stays, the more secrets he uncovers...and the less he wants to leave.

This is a novel-length adventure story that loosely follows the plot of Howl's Moving Castle. It does not require knowledge of the HMC book or movie to enjoy it.

This features nature of the more magical kind, but oh my does it do it well. The magical world building in this is INCREDIBLE! And the plot??? Amazing! Even if you’ve seen Howl’s Moving Castle, you’ll be surprised. The story is just amazing. Also, if you haven’t already, you really should listen to the Podfic—it’s really really good quality!

Do you have any nature-y fics that I’ve missed? Please rec them to me!!

xx Elliot

[saintsofwarding]

WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by keltii-tea

Chapter 24: A Traitor’s Bargain

The bellow shook the air, a blast of dust and house-fragments rolling over the face of the full moon. The monster erupted forth, limned in red moonlight. It was huge, and growing by the second. Heisenberg had never seen another mutant grow so massive; this one was on the same scale as Eveline's final form, from what he could tell from the BSAA photos of her calcified corpse, taken at the scene of her death.

Now, this new monster rose, and rose, and rose against the sky, vast wings churning the blizzard winds. It was roughly avian, long masses of tentacles trailing from its back and underbelly, multiple foreclaws opening like cages of blades, its whole mass held aloft by those eight feathered wings. Mold showered from it in thick, glutinous droplets. The entire monstrosity was formed of mold, armored in it, a constantly-shifting pelt of glistening, iridescent black.

Heisenberg watched it rise, felt the shudder of its wingbeats in the backs of his teeth. That thing was Rose; that thing was Miranda. Had Miranda locked herself, dormant, in the megamycete's subconscious, and thus in Rose's? Had she resurrected herself through Rose, and now occupied her body, and with it, her enormous power?

Heisenberg didn't know. All he knew, as he stared at the great monster claiming the sky, was that he'd failed.

He'd failed the other Lords. He'd failed Ethan. He'd failed himself.

And he'd failed Rose.

He couldn't deny it anymore, even to himself. Everything he'd done, since the moment he first looked into her stupid, ugly, moldy little face fifteen years ago, had been for her. To exploit her power for his benefit at first, yeah, but that had changed faster than he liked to admit. Now, all was different. It was all to protect her. To save her, spare her, from Miranda, from the horrors of the mortal world, from all that stood against her.

Hell, he'd do it all again, a thousand times over, just to see her safe.

And now, Miranda had her. They were together again, as much as two creatures could be, all of Rose's power in Miranda's clutches.

His next inhale snagged in his throat, and the grief bit down, sharp and raw as ever.

Maybe, in the end, it always had to be this way.

The monster's howl shook the hillside, the reservoir below reflecting the red moonlight, quivering each time the mutant beat its wings. Over in the village came a flurry of activity- shouts echoing from the Ouroboros encampment, lights flaring on, the whir of helicopter rotors filling the air as commandos ran to their posts.

Movement swung: a massive piece of manned artillery set up somewhere around the Maiden of War, grinding round on its base to level at the monster. Heisenberg snarled between his teeth.

"No," he muttered. "No."

The others were there: Moreau, a look of horror in his eyes. Mia, staring at the monster, all color drained from her face. And Dimitrescu. As the first artillery shot blazed toward the approaching monster, as it burst against her flank in a shower of liquid fire and calcified mold, her look of rage deepened.

The monster shrieked; its wings churned at the air as it banked round, claws splayed, straight for the village.

"Fools," Dimitrescu spat. "She'll destroy them all."

"I'm not so sure." Heisenberg pointed at the monster. The artillery round had chewed a massive, crumbling hole in her side; it immediately began to heal, but another shot followed the first, and another, each one blasting a ragged bite from her tentacle-covered body.

The shells must have been anti-mutant, like the bullets.

Damn Ouroboros. Damn them all.

"They'll kill each other," Mia whispered. She pressed her hands to her mouth, her whole body shaking. "Rose..."

Another blast pounded the monster, lit the sky in a flare of fire-gold and salt-white. Still she advanced; massive jaws peeled wide, bristling with teeth like shards of obsidian, its pulsating gullet roiling with mold-tendrils.

One trailing tentacle struck out; it leveled an outlying house, shattered it to kindling. One of Ouroboros' helicopters strafed past, spitting bullets. The Rose-monster reared back, one vast foreclaw rising; it swatted the helicopter, a backhand, almost lazy movement. The rotors choked and caught fire, and with a screech of metal and seizing parts, the whole machine spiraled out of the sky, exploding off the hillside with a muffled boom.

"They won't let her live now, that's for damn sure," Heisenberg muttered, watching the spray of molten metal as it underlit the monster.

I'm sorry, kid.

I'm so sorry.

Was this the end? Maybe Ouroboros would kill her. Maybe she'd live, and turn on them next. Maybe Miranda would take control again, would start her rule all over again. Maybe she'd execute them all, live forever in her dream, playing dollhouse inside the subconscious of a mutated monster with a ghost of her little Eva. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe there was still a chance.

The monster careened through the sky, banking to the side as it began to circle the village. It snapped at the air, shaking its great tentacle-maned head. Heisenberg had only seen Miranda mutate from afar, and only the once, but he knew her all too well. Her coldness, her calculation. She wouldn't attack like this, head-on and mindless, seeking only to annihilate. She'd be a lot smarter than that.

This was the attack pattern of a first-time mutant, a newborn. Someone who'd never done this before. Someone on the verge of losing control.

And if Miranda wasn't fully in control-

Then that meant-

It doesn't have to be this way.

Wasn't he Lord Heisenberg? You made me like this, Mother. Full of rage. Full of vengeance. And full of power. She'd taught him everything he knew. How to use that power. How to turn it against all that stood in his way. And he was, as ever, a dutiful son.

No. This wasn't the end. Not for him. Not for Rose. Only for Miranda. He hadn't gotten to strike the final blow fifteen years ago; that honor had gone to Ethan. Now, another red moon, another night of impossible odds. Now, he'd get that chance again.

Now, he'd kill her for real.

Lightning crackled over the snow as he faced the others. "You see that thing?" He flung out his hand to point. "There's still a chance. Get it? Miranda's not entirely in control. Not yet, anyway."

"How do you-" Mia started.

"'Cause I'm a goddamn genius, remember? Now everyone shut the hell up and listen," he ordered. "Moreau. Get down to the reservoir. Might have some company soon."

Moreau nodded, his entire body jiggling with anticipation. "What...what...what kind of company?"

"It's a fuckin' surprise," Heisenberg snarled. "Wait and fuckin' see, fishstick, don't ruin the anticipation."

"You can do it," Mia told Moreau, rubbing his shoulder.

Moreau sniffed. "I'll...I'll see you all soon," he told Heisenberg, told Dimitrescu. "Get little Rose back, all...all right?" And with a last, misty-eyed look at them all, he began down the hillside, toward the reservoir.

"Good luck, fishstick! Try not to die this time!" Heisenberg called after him. He looked up at Dimitrescu. "You're hungry, right?"

She bared her teeth in a grimacing sneer. "Starving."

Heisenberg let out his breath. "Fucking things you make me do." He yanked up his shirtsleeve, exposing the scarred flesh of his brawny forearm and bicep, and held it toward her face.

"Go on," he said.

"I beg your-"

"Drink, you overgrown bitch, I'm telling you to eat my fuckin' blood so you can go kill people!" Heisenberg said. "Goddamn, do I have to write it down in crayon?"

She blinked, her brows arched. Years they'd hated one another. Years they'd never given up the opportunity to fight each other, whether verbally or physically, ripping and tearing and hunting for fresh meat. Even in the depths of her grief, fresh off losing her three beloved daughters, Dimitrescu had spared a share of her hatred especially for him.

Such hatred between them. Such constant, bloody rivalry. Heisenberg didn't remember when it had come about. He only remembered how. He must have been a child when they met, yet already powerful. Miranda must have extolled his abilities, his affinity, his superior potential. And Alcina, hungry, yearning, impassioned thing as she was, didn't stand a chance against their mother's manipulations.

How could she? Miranda had made her that way, after all.

Heisenberg and Dimitrescu. The two of her children closest to her ideal of perfection. Miranda had kindled their rivalry, had turned them against one another from the first, so she could always control them. So they might never realize their own power, might never conspire, might never band together to destroy her.

So they might never do what they did now, stand together in the snow, to look each other in the eye with-

-Well. It would always be hatred on Alcina's part. But now, with their mutual enemy tearing the world apart at their feet, there was something close to respect, too, however grudging.

Here and now, Heisenberg would take it.

Her huge hand snapped around his arm. She wrenched him close; he stumbled, at the mercy of her monstrous strength. With a twist of her wrist she brought his arm to the level of her bent head, nearly wrenching it from its socket.

Alcina's eyes glowed, the hunger in them rising like flames.

"This will hurt, little brother," she told him, voice dusky, and opened her mouth, and with a rippling growl, sank her teeth into his flesh.

Black blood spurted; Heisenberg clenched his teeth as she tore at him, as she drew great, starving gulps of his blood, as she swallowed it down with a shudder of pure, sensual pleasure. Dimitrescu's eyes fluttered shut, and as he watched, the cracks on her skin began to seal together, the hollows beneath her eyes smoothing over.

The gauntness left her face as her grip on his arm strengthened to bone-breaking pressure, the tips of her claws biting into his wrist.

She let him go. Heisenberg slammed back against a tree, breathing hard, leaking everywhere. A streak of his blood darkened the snow; more blood dripped over Alcina's chin, slopping down the front of her armor in a red-black spill. She smeared her hand over her mouth, her too-long, too-red tongue lapping the blood from her face.

Heisenberg stared up at her as she straightened to her full, magnificent height. Dimitrescu thrummed with power, her gray-white skin shining in the moonlight, her hair whipped around her shoulders in the snowy breeze.

"At last." Another shudder, a crackle of bone and muscle deep within her. She shook her head, her face alight with a hazy, feral ecstasy. "I'd forgotten what that felt like."

"Not hangry anymore?" Heisenberg managed.

She shot him a look. "You," she told him, "taste disgusting."

He grinned. "Oh, run off and lord over that ugly-ass castle of yours, you super-sized leech."

She returned his smile, sudden and ferocious as a blow to the throat. "Will I, too, be expecting visitors?"

Heisenberg shrugged. "I know how much you love guests for dinner."

"What's the plan?" Mia touched his bleeding arm, muscles mangled like he'd been mauled by a feral lycan. They twitched as Heisenberg flexed his hand, severed veins and muscle strands crawling back together.

Not fast enough. Dimitrescu had drained him, all right. He felt like shit; his body weighed heavy on his bones, cold save for the burn of his Cadou in overdrive, working hard to repair him. Not ideal, but, then again, when was anything?

"You can skip town, y'know," he told her, quietly. "Get out of the country. I won't hunt you down, I promise. Let's call it a parting gift."

"Leave? Now?"

"That's what I said."

Mia's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you." She produced a roll of bandages from Moreau's secret medical stash. Deftly, she began patching up his wound, her hands soon crusted in his blood. She finished off the bandage with a sharp tug, cinching it tighter than absolutely necessary. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

Heisenberg chuckled. "I knew I liked you, Winters."

He faced the village, the monster in the skies above, circling the camp as artillery shot after artillery shot pounded the air.

He'd find Rose. He'd kill Miranda. And if those Ouroboros bastards got slaughtered along the way? Even better.

See you soon, he told the monster. Mother.

He held out his hand. With a warping hum, his hammer crashed through the side of Moreau's shack and smacked into his palm. He spun it onto his shoulder, slid on his sunglasses, then squinted back round toward the ruined building.

"Now where the fuck," he said, "is my goddamn coat?"

***

The wind rising off the village reeked of chemicals, of ash and liquefied mold, the world spattered in pools of the monster's blasted-off chunks. Gunfire lit the snow: commandos holding back the lycans. The beasts snarled from the woods, darting in and out of Heisenberg's focus as he and Mia approached the camp.

Little wonder. Now the conglomerate lycan in the reactor chamber, Moreau and Dimitrescu's spontaneous regeneration, made sense. There had always been a living host for the Black God; even as a baby, Rose had continued to transmit the megamycete's signals to all its carriers, Cadou parasites still responding to her latent command.

With the host now awake, the lycans had to be going apeshit, unable to make full sense of the garbled signals coming from the Rose-monster's gestalt consciousness. Their base instinct said attack, so attack they would, anything and everything that got in their way.

One of the closer lycans burst in a shower of gore, steaming with chemical smoke as it dropped to the snow. Heisenberg kept his sights on the floodlit barrier, a hastily-erected metal fence set up around the village square. Past it, the square was a flurry of movement, shouted orders, commandos running for more ammo, more supplies.

It looked like they'd built some prefabs around the Maiden of War, had set up their big artillery alongside her, so the statue looked as if she thrust her sword in command of the massive cannon. The stilled rotors of a V-22 helicopter loomed alongside the church, underlit hellish by the spotlamps illuminating the camp like an island of light fending off the dark.

Heisenberg smirked. Mortals. So cute. As if their little prayers and symbols could ward off the real monsters.

Three lycans snarled and snapped at one of the commandos, standing on a rise overlooking the camp.

"Eat this!" he yelled; his assault rifle spat, blasting the beasts into crystal shards. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

Perfect.

Heisenberg winked at Mia, then strode ahead. As the commando faced the camp again, Heisenberg swept up behind him.

"Hey, soldier," he purred into the man's ear.

"Wha-"

He grabbed the guy by the back of his bulletproof vest and hoisted him into the air. The commando let out a yelp as Heisenberg lifted him bodily, legs kicking, arms flailing. In a single heave, Heisenberg flung him over the fence, down into the middle of the camp below.

The soldier hit the ground hard and rolled, wincing. Shouts broke out, the snap of dozens of guns cocking and aiming at once echoing over Heisenberg as he strode to the top of the rise overlooking the camp, hammer propped on his shoulder, ferine grin on his face.

"Well, well, well!" he called. "Looks like everything fell to shit after I left!"

"Ah. It's back."

Heisenberg tilted his head. Regan approached from the direction of the church; aside from a bandaged bicep, he looked uninjured.

Shame. He'd make an excellent lycan.

"Long time, buttercup." Heisenberg looked him up and down. "I'm surprised you're still alive. Lycans love chewing on meaty lads like you."

The Rose-monster's bellow shook the air. "We're a little busy at the moment," Regan said. "If you'd like to come back later-?"

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" Heisenberg spread his arms wide. "And after your proclamation earlier? Now, call me a greedy old bastard, call me whatever you like, but above all I'm an enterprising gentleman, and I can't resist a good bargain. Especially when lives are on the line."

"What are you proposing?"

"I-"

A buzz like an angry wasp sounded to his six. Impact stung the side of his neck; Heisenberg snarled, twisting toward its source as he slapped his hand up to the sting. A dart, still quivering. A black-clad figure stood from the roof of a nearby house and gave a wave, sniper rifle propped to her shoulder.

Cal.

"Aha," Heisenberg said. He yanked the dart out, felt the slow cold seep of the drug through his system. His senses dulled; his connections to metal snapped. Another dose of power suppressant, like Mia had sprung on him in the hold of the Osiris. "So that's what you do."

"You have thirty seconds to explain yourself, Lord Heisenberg," Regan said. "I'd get a move on, if I were you."

"Scared, Regan?" said Mia.

She stepped alongside Heisenberg. A few guns swerved to her; she didn't flinch as she stared down at her one-time colleague.

"Winters," Regan said with a sigh. "So good to see you survived. I'd hate to have to deal with all the paperwork involved if your BOW friend there had killed you."

"Yeah. I'm sure you would." She shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet. Heisenberg made out the dart of her eyes- from Regan, to him, to Regan again.

"It's not too late, you know," Regan said. "You can always come back to us. I'd advocate for you.  You're a unique specimen, Mia- not just your physiology, but your experience. I-"

"Yack, yack, enough with this shit." Heisenberg pointed down at him. "Listen, Regan, let's cut to the chase. That thing in the sky? That's my daughter." He paused. "Also my mother. It's complicated."

Regan blinked, glancing toward the monster as it sliced through the blizzard, circling now around the castle towers, rounding them back toward the camp again. "That's the girl?" he said. "That's Rosemary Winters?"

"Sure is." He gestured to Mia. "What? Don't you see the resemblance? Point is, I don't want her dead."

Another artillery shot burst against the monster's flank as it strafed by; its scream of anguish sliced to his core, to his heart. He didn't have much time before those rounds blasted her into moldy memories.

"And?" Regan prompted.

"And I know you want something, too. Something you're clearly not having much luck in locating. The corpse of Ethan Winters." Heisenberg mustered his best grin and flashed it wide. "I'll bring it to you. And more. For a price."

Regan stared up at him, and Mia. The flare of firelight off his pale face cut it stark as a skull. It was impossible to gauge his thoughts. Heisenberg made an educated guess anyway. Ouroboros was clearly forced to improvise to be here at all without his help. They'd come to Romania expecting to get in and get out without engaging with an army of feral lycans and a bioweapon god the size of a 747. They had to be desperate, and how.

Enough to work with Lord Heisenberg himself? He'd take a cue from Mia with this one and bet the whole farm. Or factory, as it were. With Rose involved, anything.

At last, Regan set his jaw.

"Why don't you step into my office," he said. He glanced at Mia. "Both of you."

An alarm sounded as soldiers rolled back the gates, raining bullets on any lycans to make a beeline for the entrance. Heisenberg was faced with a semicircle of rifle barrels, each aimed for his center mass. Even without his powers, they weren't taking any chances. First smart thing Ouroboros had done since they'd entered the village.

The soldiers and researchers in the square weren't the only humans around. To Heisenberg's surprise, a few guns were pointed at a row of freaked-looking people kneeling by the painted wall of an old house. Robed, disheveled, slung all over with saints' metals and charms carved from bone, they looked like a bunch of particularly disconsolate monks after a long night in the wine cellar. One of them, a young woman with a shaved head, struggled to rise.

"Lord Heisenberg! You live! Praise the Black God!" she cried, waving her cuffed hands frantically. "Lord...Lord Heisenberg, please- where is Lord Moreau? Please, if he's alive, convey to him my deepest- my deepest affections-"

One of the soldiers shoved her back down. Heisenberg watched as he backhanded the girl across the face; she crumpled with a cry, then began to rock side to side, mumbling Moreau's name. Well, well. He had devotees. How ambitious. Maybe there was hope for his brother yet.

The soldier turned, eyeing Heisenberg from his helmet's eye slits, traces of the girl's blood clinging to his knuckles.

Heisenberg gave him a slow grin in return.

"He is so dead," Mia whispered.

Heisenberg chuckled. "All yours, sweetheart."

He ambled after Regan and into the prefab, roomy space beyond lit blinding with harsh fluorescent strips. He winced, squinting behind his glasses, tilting his head down to cut some of the glare. The makeshift laboratory jostled with noise and movement- cages fenced off one half of the structure, chain-link and stout metal pillars. Within thrashed lycans, snarling and clawing at the chain-link, gnawing at the locks and hinges. They snapped at Heisenberg and Mia as they passed, baleful stares seething with bloodlust. The cages faced banks of biomedical research equipment, harried-looking technicians working at monitors or chemistry stations. One held a phial of dark blood to the light. Lycan, Heisenberg assessed.

"You're experimenting on these BOWs, then?" Mia said.

Regan didn't spare her a look. "They're fascinating, aren't they? Miranda wrote them off as failures, used them as little more than cannon fodder, but HQ takes a different view. The Cadou not only made a new species, a hybrid of hominid and obligate carnivore, but manifested through them a brand-new culture. You've seen firsthand the way they band together. They have immense potential for battlefield use, and they've already garnered interest in many of our clients. You should find them interesting, too, Mia. We all know how you love failures."

"Fascinating is one word for them." She braced back as a lycan lunged for her, metal rattling as it clung to the gate. "I didn't realize HQ wanted to take back lycan samples."

"Anything for a fistful of lei," Heisenberg drawled. "Isn't that right, soldier of fortune?"

Regan didn't respond to his bait. Heisenberg eyed the lycans as they passed the last of them, eyed the several lain out on gurneys, restrained and sedated, their sawtooth fangs exposed to the overbright lights. The villagers had called them holy creatures, had worshipped them alongside the Lords and Miranda. Now here they were, at the mercy of the irreverent.

A quick buck was right. Hell, if Ouroboros managed to blast Rose from the sky, they'd probably auction her various pieces off to the highest bidder. Every monster had its use.

A slow grin spread across his face.

Regan ushered them through a sliding doorway, up a plastic tunnel hallway with air that burned with chemical disinfectant, and into the church. Its warm darkness was now illuminated by banks of computer screens, its wooden walls stuffed to the gills with equipment. Guards in full combat armor stood at the entrances, weapons at the ready.

Heisenberg's gaze lingered on the altar. Four portraits, four lords enclosed in gilt, and enshrined between them, radiant as ever, Miranda. How dutifully the villagers had trooped here, to give glory, to beg protection, to whisper pleas for mercy- Lord Heisenberg, spare me, please, I beg of you, it was only a mistake.

How dutifully they'd died when the monsters came to call, when he and the others had followed Miranda's orders and wrought bloodshed upon those who'd worshipped them.

Man. He'd had his fun, in his day, but he'd been a shitty god where it counted.

"We don't have much time, so make it quick," Regan said, as soon as the door closed behind them.

"Not much to say," Heisenberg said with a shrug. "My proposal is simple. You don't aim to kill our flying friend out there. And I deliver, straight to your hands, Winters' corpse."

"We already made you that offer," Regan said. "And, it seems, you weren't interested before."

"Right, right, but get this." He gestured toward the lycan research lab outside. "You have money to make, and I have problems of my own. Three of them. Now, lycans are well and good, but just think what your bosses would say if you turned up with not only a passel of wolf-men and an ice sculpture to show for all their cash and efforts, but three of Mother Miranda's Lords, too."

He spread his arms.

"Imagine," he went on, letting his voice fill the church's dusty recesses. He lifted a hand, curling it into a fist with a crackle of bloodstained leather. "Three of the megamycete's descendant hosts. Not quite as strong as the original host, of course, but what can you do. Consider."

He sidled up to Donna's portrait at the altar. "A pretty girl who can flip your brain inside-out with sheer, mind-melting terror..." He made TV-presenter hands around Moreau. "An ugly sack of flesh with acid reflux almost as bad as mine after a three-day bender..." He slid behind Dimitrescu, brushing her painted cheek with a fingertip. "...And a nine-foot man-eating vampire bitch-queen that just won't fucking die."

He put on his biggest showman's grin. "They're all here, in the village. Bioweapons to write home about. I'll even tell you where they are."

Regan's eyes gleamed. He put on a good show of stoicism, but Heisenberg saw the way he leaned in, the way he hung on his every word. They'd already suffered losses, already fucked the mission when they'd lost him and Mia. With three of four Lords in tow, they might just manage to save face.

Besides. What self-respecting terrorist organization wouldn't pay top dollar for Dimitrescu?

"You're talking about your own family, yes?" Regan said.

Heisenberg let out a bark of laughter. "You think I care about my family? Fuck my family. Take them back to your labs. Kill 'em. Do what you want with them. Doesn't matter to me."

He sidled closer, his grin still fixed in place. "So. Soldier." He eyed Regan over the rim of his glasses. "What d'you say?"

A beat. A long silence.

Then-

Regan smiled in return, cold as a knife to the throat. "You have yourself a deal, Lord Heisenberg."

***

The thunder of artillery shots filled the sky as Heisenberg and Mia emerged once again into the freezing wind. Snow flurried down, dark with ash, bitter on Heisenberg's tongue.

"Change your firing pattern!" Regan yelled up at the gunner in his cage. "Hold it off! Do not shoot to destroy. I repeat, do not shoot to destroy."

"Sir?" the gunner called down, but Regan was already shoving past, calling more orders to a platoon of commandos, signaling to Cal, who dropped from the roof and took her place at her brother's side.

"Ooh, you planning something fun for him?" she giggled, nodding at Heisenberg.

"Not this time, pet. You have a job to do." He tapped a map on a nearby command table. "Valley of Mist, House Beneviento. Suit up with a rebreather and bring back Lady Beneviento. She'll be there, and no trouble for you to subdue. Understood?"

She pouted. "Why do you always give me the easy ones?" In a whirl of blonde hair, she was gone again.

"You'll want this, Mia." Regan tossed her a rifle and a clip of anti-mutant rounds. "For the lycans. And in case your BOW companion decides he's better off without you."

"I'd say thanks," Mia said, giving the weapon a quick once-over, "if I wasn't so sure you'd shoot me yourself the second I turned my back."

Regan shrugged. "Business is business, Mia. You of all people should know that by now."

He stood before the immense stone gate to the ceremony site, the ancient dais that had once ensconced Rosemary Winters' remains. The gate that, once upon a time, had led to his territory. It still bore his crest, horse and shoe scabbed over with remnants of Miranda's mold. In a flash, Heisenberg saw it once more as he had that dawn a decade and a half ago. The snow, gusting golden through the first of the daylight. The world cracked open, the Black God's tentacles bursting from the ground to claw and writhe at the skies. The blood, the mold, the remnants of the battle, the ground scattered with crystal shards, left behind after Ethan fought his way toward Miranda.

Now, the world beyond the dais- ended. That was what it looked like, anyway. As Heisenberg and Mia entered the altar site after Regan, Heisenberg saw just what kind of devastation the BSAA's bomb had wrought.

The snow and earth and scrubby pine trees fell away, sudden as an execution blow. Beyond them the crater yawned, the night endless past the crumbling lip of the cliff's edge. It spread on and on and on, a vast bite torn from the landscape, a cigar burn in reality. Rubble filled its edges, but in the center, past the reach of the Ouroboros camp's floodlamps, he made out nothing but a dark pit. For all he knew, it might go down forever.

And it was full of lycans. Infested with the things. Everywhere, green eyes glittered, teeth bared and glistening with blood and mucus. Of fucking course. No wonder Ouroboros hadn't wanted to go down there themselves.

"Ethan's down there," Mia murmured.

Heisenberg looked at her. She stood at the cliff's edge with her new rifle slung over her shoulder, ammo hooked onto her belt. Her boot tips hung off the drop, into empty air. One more step, and she'd go over.

Her face was pale, her gray-streaked hair dancing around her head in the crater's updraft. She'd looked worse when he had his hands elbow deep inside her- heh heh- but not by much. The look in her eyes now was like- fuck, it was the look in his own after Claudia, after he'd thought the last remnants of his soul had been burned to ashes, after he'd thought there was no hope left but that which he could reap from his own destruction.

This was it, he figured, for her. This was all she had done over the years manifest, all her guilt, all her failures. This was what she had made with her own fear, with her own reticence to tell her husband the truth. This was her version of a child gasping for life on the floor, even as she died, even as the hope ran out along with her blood. A pit eaten into the earth, the corpse of the love of her life waiting somewhere in the darkness.

Waiting for her.

He elbowed her in the ribs. She flinched, and looked up at him. Her eyes shone, but her gaze held steady.

"You gonna bitch out on me, Winters?" he said.

Her jaw clenched. "You first."

Heisenberg grinned. "Heh. I see where Rose gets it."

"We'll hold the monster off until dawn," Regan called, from back near the dais. "If you aren't back by then, the girl dies. That's my bargain to you, Lord Heisenberg. See you keep up your end."

Heisenberg didn't look back. He hooked his arm around Mia's midsection, pulled her against him, and leaped into the waiting darkness below.

[dustedmagazine]

2022: Patrick Masterson

Photos by Patrick Masterson

I.

We filter in slowly. Given Sleeping Village is a stroll down the block, it’s inevitable I’m on the early side, but the place is already humming with anticipation by the time I walk in. I order a beer and head to an open booth tucked away in back, where I’m greeted one after the other by guys I call friends and co-workers, an agreeable mix of dudes from two generations. We do some bridge-building as they appear, figure out a couple of us have been to the same shows over the decades and not realized it, y’know, the usual time-killing.

As if this table weren’t proof enough, I look up at one point and note who’s loitering around the bar area: Though a modest youthfulish contingent exists, tonight’s a veritable Post-Punk Dads’ Prom, which in March of 2022 indicates one of two things — and since Wet Leg already came through at the beginning of the month, it could only mean we’re here to see Yard Act play the final date of their first U.S. tour.

Evidently, nothing unites Former Cool Guys on a drizzly night out like a little “angular” guitar and a chatty Loiner with a chip on his shoulder. In a year that would turn out to be studded with top-tier post-punk throwbacks, Yard Act are already ahead of the pack at this point with The Overload’s January release. Coming off a string of Rough Trade-endorsed singles, an EP and a full-length establishing James Smith’s wry, politically minded verbosity over the complementary supporting trio of Ryan Needham’s bass, Jay Russell’s drums and Sam Shjipstone’s guitar, the band is confident rolling into their final stateside set. Just a few days before, they’d played Fallon and announced their arrival to whatever audience still cares about late night TV. I have no idea who that is because I haven’t had cable since 2008 and can’t think of anyone else who does, either, but all the same, it’s sold out.

It comes out in varying degrees depending on the song, but the major takeaway from a live Yard Act set is just how fucking funny they are — more so even than on record. Bands that have decent between-song banter are pretty rare in my experience, usually limited to mumbled thanks or obfuscated in-jokes. Not these guys: Arriving to the stage juiced on whatever the rider offered backstage and clearly fixing to close this tour out in a blaze of minor glory, Smith’s amicable observational prodding immediately endears him to the crowd. Between riffs on deep dish, American candy and overly long, underexplained stories from the road, the band kills, rifling through a grab bag of choons from their limited discography. They’re tight when the music’s going and loose when it’s not. The natural rapport between Needham and Smith is evident as the former keeps the latter — ever more glassy-eyed and garrulous as the set carries on — in check. Years put in with the likes of lesser NME fodder like Post War Glamour Girls and Menace Beach make plain this is not their first rodeo. They can handle us — and do, playing everything everyone wants to hear at just the right levels of volume and sneering, smirking aggression. It’s a thing of beauty. No one leaves unhappy.

I walk home thinking I might’ve just seen my favorite show of the year — and were it not for Yves Tumor the very next night, I’d be correct. I have some spring in my step now, too, and not just on account of the season: I’m about to embark on a massive project at work that got dumped on me the month before and I’m dreading it, but that aside, my personal life slowly feels like it’s crystallizing and I’m having a great week, a great month, fuck, I’m having a great year. How many people can say that in 2022? How many people are riding this kind of high right now? How many people can look up at the sky and feel like the stars are aligned, each one exactly in its right place burning back at them?

It’s hard to be cautious when everything feels like it’s slowly making the sense you always thought was there, but I keep trying to talk myself down from the ledge of this good mood anyway. Still: How real it feels, how unyielding the truth of it seems.

II.

It’s not that I wouldn’t have believed you without seeing it for myself, but there’s something both viscerally funny and viscerally stupid witnessing with your own eyes how we really did fuck it up: Iceland is green and Greenland is ice. That’s what’s running in and out of my head on the second leg of a return journey from Helsinki, where I’ve just been for an extended early August weekend because I’m an idiot who’s wholly incapable of taking a nice, normal, relaxing vacation somewhere with beaches and 500-page books you can read in two nights and big meals wearing bad shirts with bogus floral prints. No, my idea of a good time is winging it in a country where I don’t speak a lick of the language — don’t even pretend to understand how declensions work there, frankly — and all the words on the signs are too long and I don’t like seafood so I’m probably never going to be a good fit for the place even though it may as well be Michigan for how it looks and I realize too late my SIM card doesn’t work but Instagram still does for some dumb reason and what the fuck am I paying T-Mobile, an international conglomerate that recently bought out Sprint and changed my bill but not my capability, all this money for every month, anyway? Why did I have to rely on an old high school acquaintance, who’s really my brother’s friend’s brother, to get around via e-scooter in Estonia? Why can’t I just shut up and take in a scenic mountain or the quiet crash of an ocean view like a normal person?

On this plane, it feels less draining to imagine Iceland and Greenland are called opposite things. That I can handle.

Before I boarded back in Finland, where I managed one last European pint at the airport bar that was alarmingly close to my gate, I sent one of the longest text messages I’ve ever written, one I spent practically the whole summer composing. Through visits to new breweries, a jaunt to Indiana to check out the Bob Ross museum and set a Guinness record applying a new coat to the world’s largest ball of paint, discovering I hate driving Teslas, Wisconsin, wherever, there it sat idling on my phone — fully formed coming out of my dreams every morning, unfinished in new and unique ways every night before bed. I’d read the fragments over and over again, sleeping on hidden arcs and previously unconsidered angles, gradually edging toward some kind of conclusion, if not resolution. You can’t know what happens after you push send, but I’d been here before; I’d sent almost this exact same message before, in fact. A hideous Hail Mary, a prayer to God, the best I can offer. What I had the moment I sent it were my words.

The weekend before I was slated to leave for this trip, I took it upon myself to sneak in some internal reviews for the radio station I’ve been volunteering at as long as I’ve been in Chicago, 15 years, Jesus, who knew I’d last that long in any capacity as an adult? There’s no great mystery to it: An enormous Google spreadsheet lists all the records we’ve imported but don’t have a review and FCC profanity notes on. It sounds silly and it’s invisible work to a listener, but these short blurbs help DJs sound more informed on air and guide them on what (and more importantly, what not) to play, a system founded in college radio and still alive in the select places they still allow for this kind of thing.

I chance upon TV Priest’s My Other People on account of some very hasty notes from whomever imported it, throw it on, let it run for a bit. I leave it through “Slideshow,” through “Bury Me in My Shoes,” both of which I find pleasantly catchy on a cursory listen. I leave it on some more as I catch up on the news. I leave it on so long, in fact, that I finish the record and immediately feel the urge to play it again from the top, something I’d been missing in music for large chunks of 2022. I think to myself after a first run through that, hey, this is pretty good; I think halfway through a second spin, listening much closer now, that, hey, this is really good; and by the time I’m finished with it again, I think this is improbably my favorite album of the year. I check to see when they’re touring next and practically burst out laughing when I see they’re in town at Beat Kitchen down the street the very next night. In less than 48 hours, I’ve gone from never having heard of this band before to enthusiastically walking out the door of their first Chicago tour date.

Here’s a theory I turned over in my mind that weekend: TV Priest is the band everyone thinks Idles is. I don’t mean any disrespect to the latter; they’re a fine band and if that’s your thing, good on you and them both. But there’s an element of gravitas to the London quartet — an almost Morrissey-like flair for the dramatic in Charlie Drinkwater’s soaring-and-roaring baritone, Nic Bueth’s leaden bass and Ed Kelland’s drumwork that may as well be actual anchors, and the tones Alex Sprogis takes with his guitars — that to me feels more weathered, more adult, a brusque tenderness shaved off in Idles’ more pitched punk. (Not for nothing, but I also saw four guys separately walk into Beat Kitchen behind me with Idles shirts on.) It’s a perfect blend of Associates and Fugazi, brutal and beautiful post-punk elegance ensuing from the end of an empire. I must’ve played “House of York” 200 times if I played it once in the days following the show and that one didn’t even make an album. Many are working in this vein right now, but hardly anyone did it better in 2022.

I am thinking that as “Sunland” plays again and the shine of the real thing above off the white expanse below blinds me. Who’d have thought I’d end up directly next to a guy who was also meeting his brother from New York City in Helsinki for the weekend? Incredible odds. Life is funny like that sometimes. A weekend fueled by croissants and a free upgrade to an automatic-equipped Volkswagen Passat and sun, always the fucking sun up there, they weren’t kidding about that, either, there were more than a few times during this trip when I thought maybe I just wouldn’t come back. Fuck a SIM card, anyway. It’s all just reformed elements, it’s all just numbers on numbers, it’s all just someone else’s profit, right? It’s all just some pointless collapsing star.

Slumped toward sunlight with my head against the fuselage watching infinite white topography shimmer as it passes — Greenland is ice, I promise you that really is it, there’s nothing else down there — I’m playing TV Priest on a busted old iPod and making mental preparations to be apart for an unknown period of time again, stuck in a familiar loop with the voices in my head rolling over the same old questions years long from different angles, chewing on emotional errata and heated fragments past, phrasing the most basic mysteries in different ways and pointlessly expecting some kind of clarity to fall from the flaring, to rise from the ice and reveal itself. The self-interrogation never stops: When do I finally stop being so stubborn about everything that matters, stop taking the harder road, stop thinking too much and feeling too much more? Why am I like this, why can’t I ever see the answers until I’ve asked the right questions a fraction too late? Why am I too slow to understand the truth when it’s not explained to me? Why do I bother believing in anything?

I shut my eyes for a moment, the skin of my lids carry a familiar heft. Honestly, I’m tired of thinking and I’m ready to leave all of this; I’ve never been more ready, maybe. The plane never shudders skeptically, but still I’m there in my seat alone in a metal tube suspended 30,000-plus feet in the air hurtling through space, through life, at 500 mph wondering: What if this is it, what if this is all there was? What happens back home, back there, that place I don’t love enough to want to return to but can’t seem to leave? What am I going to do when my words finally, inevitably fall short, when the best I offer is rotting roses and garbled prayer and a Hail Mary read all wrong? And what if I settle for what happens after that, what if this isn’t all there was? What if good enough is good enough?

Patrick Masterson

[autocon23]

I’m Literally In Hell

I have so many goddamn work in progress fics that I have quite a bit of work done already (though, I’m not ready to post any of them, other than the multipart series that many of you already know about). So, you know what? You all get to know what I’m doing and can tell me I’m a psychopath bc I think I need to be put in the incomplete fanfic shame corner or something.

So, here we go….

Boondock Saints/The Walking Dead crossover: I’m not even going to attempt to explain this bullshit. If you’re curious, feel free to head to my AO3 to read it and tell me that I have no life (I will agree 100% bc I almost NEVER go out and socialize). It’s a Darly/Connor/OC/Murphy series that I’ve been writing since the end of 2020. I’m actually really happy how the series has turned out and I still have so much planned that I can hardly wait for you to read. And the fact that all you awesome people have consistently given it such an amazing amount of love for it that I hope that I will always continue to make you all excited everytime I post a new chapter.

Naruto: So, I actually have two fics being written for it. Both I really like and wrote quite a bit for them. Still working on it as I keep bouncing around to different areas of the timeline.

A. I Will Carry This Burden So You Don’t Have To: this is actually the second Naruto fic that I’m writing. It’s an Uchiha OC who’s Sasuke/Itachi’s older cousin and had been the next head of the Uchiha clan. Her father was the head, but died either before or during the Third Ninja War (still trying to figure out timeline stuff for that area) so after her father’s death, Fugaku (her uncle) takes over as temporary head of the clan until OC is ready. She even ends up as the 4th Hokage’s personal assistant for a short time period. Of course we all know how things actually happen. OC ends up adopting Naruto (despite the 3rd’s and Danzo’s attempts to prevent her). She’s close with Itachi and Sasuke and when the Uchiha clan is massacred, she adopts Sasuke as well. It’s lots of angst in this fic specifically at how helpless and furious OC is about what happens during the story. I’m still debating on a ship. I’m stuck between Kakashi/OC, Gai/OC, or Kakashi/OC/Gai.

B. Kitsune Uzumaki: this is the first one and I’ve got lots of fun stuff for this one. OC is the twin sister to Naruto and is a jinchuuriki as well. They both have the nine tails sealed in them. I changed some parts of the timeline here as well, but it’s mostly just lengthening the time between the Chuunin exams and when Sasuke left the village to join Orochimaru. Basically aging all the characters up a little by a couple years before Shippuden. This is an OC/Kakashi/Yamato fic.

3. Supernatural: I’ve got two fics for this one as well.

A. RW: this is a sister!Winchester fic. Got lots of fun stuff going on with this one.

B. Fuck You, Chuck: this one I recently came up with a couple months back. OC is a girl from our world in the year 2023 to SPN in 2005. She knows everything that’s going to happen in the show. At first she plays along, but then she starts trying to figure out ways to change things.

4. Mass Effect: oh, I had so many goddamn ideas popping up into my head every time I pull up the game to play. It’s a fucking menace, but I love this series greatly.

A. The Saviors of The Galaxy Were Raised By A Krogan (Fuck The Council): I got three Shepard OCs (male twins and their adopted younger sister) who are all working together to save this shit galaxy from the Reapers. As the title suggests, they were adopted by a Krogan. Wrex specifically bc he’s the best and deserves all the love. It mostly follows the fem!shep OC of the story, but I do try to give the older brothers plenty of attention in the story.

B. Haley’s Comet: this takes place in Mass Effect: Andromeda. Alec Ryder actually has three kids in this story. First is Sara and Scott Ryder, the original protagonists of the game that the audience usually follows. Then, there’s OC, who’s the younger sister of the twins that I named Haley. She’s 15 when she’s put in cryo to head to Andromeda and is the one who ends up the new Pathfinder. I’m debating on whether to keep Alec dead like he is in the game or maybe change it up and have him survive Habitat 7 and just give him hell since he can’t be Pathfinder anymore due to the injuries he’d received during the mission on Habitat 7. Really heavy on the found family trope and quite a bit of angst as it follows Haley who struggles to be Pathfinder while trying to not have some kind of resentment or anger towards her father and even her older siblings due to how they all ended up in the Andromeda program.

5. DC Universe: I’ve got two fics for this one. Both with the same OC, Amelia Ryder, and ship, OC/John Constantine. This is mostly because I ended up getting really attached to freaking John Constantine. I apparently have a weakness for accents and blue eyes (kill me please). She’s also a badass sorceress (well, she becomes one eventually) and can use magic.

A. Legends of Tomorrow: Amelia becomes a member of the Legends. She’s picked up at the start by Captain Hunter with the rest of the crew in Season 1. There’s mention of her past in season 1, but after the Time Masters are dealt with, her past is left exactly where she wants it: in the past. So, it’s really more of Amelia ending up finding the family that she’s truly yearned for while also getting confidence in herself and her own agency/independence. Of course, lots of drama between her and Constantine when he finally pokes his head up. Lots of fun moments and angst. Smut too.

B. DC Animated Universe: this uses Amelia as well, because I really had a lot of fun coming up with her character background. Except instead of being a time traveling badass, she ends up becoming the Justice League’s secretary. It mostly follows the animated movies, but I’ll follow certain arcs. This actually delves more into Amelia’s history and she does a lot of healing once her past catches up with her.

6. Haikyuu: I’m working on only one for now, but I have a couple that I want to do. Only one is probably going to be a bit on the long side while the others will probably be a bit shorter, but follows the main story quite a bit. The one I’m working on is called “Our Coach is a High School Student”. Lots of fun stuff planned for that one. I had to change my OC’s name bc a Haikyuu fic that I read god knows how long ago had updated and it turns out that that they used the same name as me. So that was fun.

7. My Hero Academia: I got two fics for this one too (geez almost every fandom I’m doing as two fics I think I need help)

A. Sakura Midoriya: sister!Midoriya fic. She’s Deku’s twin sister and quirkless as well. That’s currently what I’m working on bc I recently binged MHA and have been rabid with my writing. I’m stuck between a couple ships to do, but I’m leaning towards OC/Todoroki or maybe OC/Todoroki/Bakugo. Though, I do really like KiriBaku, but I also really like KiriMina.

B. Untitled: I haven’t started actually writing this yet. Mostly bc I haven’t gotten around to it again. It’s another sister!Midoriya fic, but it falls under the Inko Midoriya Adopts Everybody. I even have a general timeline. The biggest thing I’m struggling to figure out is how to continue the OFA/AFO stuff. Who will be AFO’s successor? Do I keep Izuku as the OFA successor? I def have a few things planned, but main storyline from MHA is what I need to figure out.

8. Marvel: I had an idea for a MCU fic. It’s similar to the DCAU where the Avengers get a secretary. Though, I had thought of having them get a therapist, but I don’t know if I can write therapists/therapy sessions very well. So, it might lean towards secretary. Though, this is still benched for now.

Please for the love of god or whatever put me out of my misery lol

[sweetteaanddragons]

Rings of Power: Episode Six Review

Many, many spoilers ahead.

Southlands

- Post-volcano visuals were stunning; I want to steal them for Dagor Bragollach gifsets.

- If, you know, I ever make a gifset. 

- I thought the scene in the healing tent was highly moving, but I have to say, this is the third time I thought we’d find out Bronwyn was dead, and it’s not that I want her to die, it’s just that there’s only so many fakeouts I can care about.

- Speaking of: their treatment of Elendil’s grief for Isildur was fantastic. However.

- We all know Isildur isn’t actually dead.

- We are all very sure of this.

- And it’s not that I wanted anyone in particular to die from the volcano, it’s just that I feel strongly that if you are going to have a volcano erupt and you have an ensemble cast, someone central to the plot SHOULD die of it.

- Instead, even the creepy villager guy made it.

- Speaking of that side of things, the synopsis definitely pulled a fast one on me with Adar; I assumed he’d be coming up with a new name for himself, not the Southlands.

- . . . honestly, I think that reveal would have hit harder if they’d waited. The book fans already knew where this was going, but letting it be called Mordor by the narration really nails home that they’re not getting the land back, and I think they should have waited to nail this particular coffin closed. It’s inevitable, sure, but timing is everything.

- Oh, yeah.

- There’s also Celeborn.

- I literally shouted WHAT at my screen.

- Several times.

- Don’t get me wrong, I support him existing in the narrative, I just -

- This was such a bewildering direction to take with him.

- Him going out to fight in the war instead of staying in Doriath. Him being missing, presumed dead, when we all know he’s going to have to turn up again later.

- Why would you make this narrative choice? What is the plan?

- I have so many questions, and I’m not sure I want the answers.

Harfoots

- It’s a little thing, but I like that they say “hair of her foot” instead of “hair of her head.”

- I liked Poppy’s song about snails.

- In general, I like the slow dread of the smaller horrors the Harfoots had to face in this episode.

- I have mixed feelings about Poppy’s decision to go after the Stranger (can we just go ahead and call him Gandalf now? I feel really sure he’s Gandalf now). On the one hand, warning him is a noble goal; on the other hand, the Harfoots really need all hands on deck right now.

- Sadoc continues to be a standout character; I love how he clings to his traditions, but stills tries so desperately to be kind about it, like when he’s sending the Stranger away.

- I also love his final lines in the episode - the grumpy resignation of ‘we might as well do this’ that’s behind “Why not? We’re all going to die anyway,” and how he then throws himself into doing it, and the humor of, “How could we miss him? He’s a GIANT.”

- Very curious about the creepy people following the Stranger.

Dwarves

- I loved just about every scene that Durin was in.

- Love the references to Khuzdul and to dwarves’ secret names, though I don’t quite like the dwarf lords using it in front of Elrond, even quietly.

- So Durin has a brother! Who we haven’t heard from until now. Some kind of rift?

- Durin the elder disinheriting his son over the argument seems extreme.

- Disa’s reaction is . . . interesting. Up until now, she’s been a very positively focused character; her final scene with Durin here was giving me definite Lady Macbeth vibes. Our friend Disa is ambitious.

- I kind of like it.

- Like. It definitely puts a more morally gray vibe out there for her. But I think it could be fun.

- Not sure of the feasibility of that two man mining operation they had going, but I really liked the vibe between the two characters.

- And we have our balrog! Earlier than I was expecting him.

[vict12r]

@70won said it’s broken. i broke it.

 ‍  ‍ a terrible moment stretches on. katniss in the doorway with a towel still halfway bunched in damp hair, johanna stood in the middle of the room, pieces of a wood figurine littering the space between them. time seems to stretch on forever. she has seen johanna mason at her considerable worst; she has seen her soaked in blood, she has seen her a shell of what she used to be ﹠ hollow - cheeked ﹠ dependent on morphling, she has seen the blaze of righteous anger in her eyes throughout it all -- it is not what unnerves the hunter. it is what she hasn't seen, the quietude, the soft sense of grief that is so unlike the axe - wielding victor, it seems dire if the wrong move were to be made. this is katniss' worst field of talent. she dreads it.

 ‍  ‍ “ hey -- it's fine, ” casual, because she knows an over - attempt at sympathy would only bring a snarl to the surface, stooping over to retrieve one of two split pieces. a whittled figure, she understands now, but of what she has no idea. “ i should have some wood glue leftover in the kitchen, that'll work just fine. right? ”

[delpurgatorio]

Writing Masterpost

I’m trying to keep everything tidy. Trying.

Fandom: Naruto

oOo

Sasuke / Hinata

All That Glitters is Taboo

Completed.

Summary: Popstar AU. Somehow, Hinata has ended up as the primary makeup artist for a certain Uchiha Sasuke, who is one of the biggest male pop stars in the country. She struggles with becoming a professional while trying to keep her personal life far, far removed. Unfortunately for her, it does not quite work out that way. Sasuhina. Drabble series.

Available on Tumblr  here. Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on Archive of Our Own here.

*note: For the Tumblr, apparently all the links in the posts are messed up so it’s easier to read under the tag “all that glitters is taboo”

Virtues of a Traitor

Completed.

Summary: Samurai AU. Naruto sends Sasuke to retrieve one of Konoha's lost children. Hinata has been gone for a long, long time. The parallels between Sasuke and Hinata are apparent as they attempt to make a home in a village that never wanted them in the first place. Sasuhina. T for violence and language.

Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on Archive of Our Own here.

Safe Moorings

In progress. Summary: Written for Pinaka/Gurukant who wanted another Samurai!Hinata story. The Hyuga return to Konoha after generations of living in the Land of Iron. Sasuke, known to the majority of the village as the slacker son of the Uchiha clan head, is inexplicably partnered with Hinata. Their goal? Assassinate Orochimaru. Hinata is out for revenge. Sasuke wants to stop hiding his capabilities.

Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on Archive of Our Own here. 

Fic specific playlist: Youtube

Everybody’s in the Glow

Completed.

Summary: No Uchiha Massacre AU: Sasuke is a med-nin with the persistent and crippling insecurity that he'll never be good enough for his father. Hinata is a special jonin with persistent and crippling insecurity in general. But mostly, Sasuke wants to make sure his patient is okay. Why does she keep running away? T for language and a bit of violence.

Check out the tag “all that you want” for excerpts.

Available on Fanfiction.net here.

Fic specific playlist: Youtube

General SasuHina Playlist: Youtube ; Spotify

oOo

Itachi / Hinata

SLEEPLESS CLUB

Oneshot Collection

Summary: Itachi and Hinata are finally given a chance. Oneshot and drabble collection exploring their relationship. Mostly gen.

Available on Fanfiction.net here.

Small Doses

In progress

Summary: Non Uchiha Massacre AU. In a world without Danzo, Uchiha Itachi is Hokage instead of Kakashi. The Hyuga strong arm Itachi into accepting Hinata as his personal assistant. But Hinata is not happy. Itachi makes it his mission to find out why. He should have left it alone. Heavy angst with eventual happy ending. T for language and canon-level violence. *Drabble length chapters*

Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on AO3 here.

General ItaHina Playlist: Youtube ; Spotify

oOo

Madara / Hinata

(Yes, really.)

Soft Power: Freetime & Freetime, Magnified

Completed & In Progress.

A smutty birthday fic of Madara x Hinata (Freetime) turned into a smutty long-fic (Freetime, Magnified).

Hinata, angry and broken after the war and Neji's death, gets sent back in time to the founding of Konoha. She's determined to get rid of the Cursed Bird Seal before its rot reaches Neji in the future. Unfortunately for her, she catches the eye of an Uchiha who is also very determined to learn her secrets. Set before Izuna's death. Explicit and Mature for smut.

Freetime: Available only on AO3 here.

Freetime, Magnified: Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on AO3 here. 

oOo

Shisui / Hinata

Mind Over Matter

In Progress.

Shisui has been given a mission. Find Hinata alive... or return her body to her family. Shisui refuses to believe she's dead. Not when the memories of her live brightly in his mind and her letters sit in the pocket next to his heart. Still Naruto-verse but doesn't care to follow canon. *Short chapter lengths!

Available on Fanfiction.net here. Available on AO3 here. 

oOo

Shisui / Reader

Sweet Memories

Completed.

An adult Shisui x Reader fic. The reader is gender neutral. A gift/dare fic that I delivered on :3

"At the shop, you have a hot table that melts cooled candy back down so you can shape it. You feel like you are on that table. You are melting and Shisui is shaping you. His touch is reverent, and you are learning your dimensions through him. You feel like you never knew what your body looked like until he mapped it out for you."

Available on AO3 here.

oOo

Original Works:

Dispatch Werewolves

First draft: 10% done

Summary: 911 operator David is an expert at his job, and a novice at his family magic. With these skills, he knows that the number that keeps calling into the 911 lines is not an accidental call or a glitch in the system. Someone is trying to get his attention. (Also. Werewolves.)

Genres: Mystery, urban fantasy, suspense

Children of the Sun

First draft: 57% done

Summary: Nemesio is a guardian of magical creatures, whether they be shapeshifters or human magic practitioners. He takes pride in his work and is therefore upset to learn that an unregistered magic user has been living under his nose for many years. Worse yet, her spirit feels a lot like his father's, who went missing decades before.

Nayeli has a couple of jobs where she needs to have a lot of specialized knowledge; as a tour guide and a folk dance instructor. However, she does not know why Nemesio makes her so nervous. Or why he thinks she can help him find answers about his father's disappearance. Maybe if he can help her understand why she feels hunted no matter where she goes, she can get enough breathing room to find him his answers.

Playlist Link: Spotify

Genre: romance, urban fantasy

oOo

Most common tags: el writes, fanfic updates, updates

[lesstheshadow]

A belated fic round-up!

wanted to catch up my fic tag here to fill in the gap between old stuff and a couple of new things, so here’s a list of some of my favourite fics I’ve posted in the last... nearly two years. 

Dividing this loosely into categories for ease — character studies, misc femslash, dimilix, sylvix, and felileth. this is long i’m sorry.

character studies:

love and other lies — Sylvain (implied sylvix), 1.7k, T

Sylvain survives a war. On the other side of it lies the rest of his life.

(also in the sylvix section, but it’s mostly a character study so it’s going here too)

the taste of memory — Dedue, 2.6k, T

Dedue’s time was divided these days. His village, by the Duscur coast, all sharp sun and sea, and Fhirdiad, the castle made of domineering stone and cold echoes—he drifted, never feeling quite at home in either place, always slightly the outsider. His two worlds had been sharply separated, the division enforced without ever having really to think about it. There was nothing of Duscur in these walls, save Dedue. His homeland was an abstract concept, not… not a culture.

Dimitri organises Fhirdiad's first Duscur Cultural Festival, and Dedue finds home in places he doesn't expect.

loyalty weighs — Petra & Dedue, 2.7k, T

Even in wartime, Abyss is the only place you can find some things. Or, Dedue and Petra discuss loyalty.

first starlight — Claude/Sylvain, 7.8k, T

Negotiating peace with Sreng, Sylvain comes across a familiar face where he wasn't expecting it.

(not exactly a character study but going here because I don’t have another category to put it in)

The Holy Heart — Rhea (as Seiros), 2k, T

After her death, Seiros leaves the land which betrayed her mother. But she takes what is left of Sothis with her.

Inspired by Joseph of Arimathea legends.

misc femslash:

what we are to each other — Edelgard/Ingrid, 1.5k, T

It hurt to want to believe her, and to not know if she could. “I am your knight,” Ingrid said. “I am your lance.” “And after?” Edelgard said, almost whispered. “I do not intend to fight forever.”

Loyalty, purpose, and what happens when you defect from the only home you've ever known.

the body kneeling — Mercedes/Marianne, 1.8k, Explicit

It’s easy to kiss Marianne. She responds so beautifully, coming alive under Mercedes’s fingertips. All her stillness becomes a shiver of thwarted motion, and she presses back into Mercedes — matching her, movement for movement.

Mercedes, Marianne, and an empty chapel.

evening coming in — Dorothea/Mercedes, 2.8k, Explicit

Broaching it directly seems like too much, though. The newness of everything between them, the whispered kisses and candlelit evenings — it would hardly stand up to a conversation like that. What could Dorothea say? “Oh, Mercedes, not to force my own views about the pointlessness of religion on you when it’s obviously taken you a lot to turn against the church that raised you and to which you were devoted, but it’s bothering me a bit that you spend your time in an draughty cathedral.”

Dorothea likes to think she isn’t quite that selfish.

Or: Dorothea wants to defile Mercedes on an altar. She gets a little defiled instead.

rosy-fingered moon — Ingrid/Mercedes, 6.7k, Explicit

On the road back to Garreg Mach, Mercedes and Ingrid meet again for the first time in five years.

the root of the root — Edelgard/Lysithea, 2.5k, T

Ten years after the end of the war, Lysithea reluctantly returns to Enbarr, Edelgard, and things she thought she could leave behind.

dimilix:

By Your Hands — CF route, 700 words, mature. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Dimitri dies on the Tailtean Plains. But it is not by Edelgard's hands.

trust fall — modern AU, 4k, Explicit

Felix tells Dimitri he trusts him. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dimitri entirely misunderstands him. (BDSM, trans Felix.)

circling back — modern AU, 8.8k, T

Dimitri hasn't spoken to Felix in years, but he'll take any opportunity he can get. A story about reconnection, recovery, and falling in love even when everything is more than a little fucked up.

sylvix:

deepens like a coastal shelf — mid-Azure Moon, 3k, T

Felix and Sylvain grow up surrounded by Faerghus’s obsession with battle, its obsession with death. They don’t talk about it.

恋旧林 (liàn jiù lín) — longing for the old forest — xianxia AU, 4.8k, T

Something is plaguing the forest, and Felix has returned to find it. Sylvain is waiting for him.

But you can never quite go back to the places you've left.

love and other lies — post-canon, 1.7k, T

Sylvain survives a war. On the other side of it lies the rest of his life.

(also in the character study section! the sylvix is only implied but it’s there)

felileth:

cut free — canon divergence enemies to lovers, 6k, T

"What are you here for?”

Felix snorts. “Spar with me,” he says bluntly.

Byleth is rarely shocked. “You’ll let me have a weapon?”

With Edelgard defeated, Byleth plans to escape her captivity from an Arianrhod controlled by Fraldarius. Somehow, she finds an unexpected ally.

fire under the skin — modern AU, 3.7k, Explicit

Felix wants to try something new. The problem is actually asking Byleth about it. (Felix gets pegged, the fic.)

Snow on the Locket — post-canon “murder” mystery, 14.2k, T

At Fódlan’s Locket, long-awaited trade negotiations between Fódlan and Almyra are under way. But they’re rudely interrupted when a snowstorm and an assassin all arrive at once.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hello, I love your adventure prompts and I am using them as inspiration for my own game (still in the planning stages). How would you write an adventure about Ninjas? I want to have a village of Ninjas hidden deep in the wooded hills but I am having trouble getting specifics in place. Do you have any advice?

Footnotes on Foes: Ninjas

So the funny thing about ninjas is that they've been a pop culture thing longer than the modern world, with the "idea" of ninjas as they exist today with secret techniques and unique weapons largely being a conceit of 1800s Japanese theater filtered through the 1970s-80s post war cultural mingling.

If we're going back to their historic roots, you need to understand ninja/shinobi in contrast to The Samurai, a social caste of warriors that originally started out as mercenaries but evolved into a powerful political block that ruled Japan on and off throughout its history, evolving into a largely bureaucratic class as time went on.

Just like any warrior nobility, the Samurai preferred it when war was conducted on their terms, at first because that was how they got paid, and later because that was how they retained their grip on power (see the several points throughout history where Japan actively outlawed firearms not because they were dangerous, but because they posed a danger to the sword-wielding noble classes), which meant large open battles with lots of horses and foot soldiers, a style of warfare that favors the landowning class.

Ninjas then were anyone who conducted violence "dishonorably" or more accurately " in a way that didn't let the samurai use money or privilege to buy themselves the victory".

Samurai's got himself an expensive set of swords and armor that make him immune to most footsoldier weapons? Poison

Samurai can field a large number of troops to bully the pesants into compliance? Sneak in at night and stab him in his sleep.

Samurai has enough wealth to devote time to training blade skills and conditioning their body while the peasants starve? Dress up as a peasant and murder him with whatever you happen to have on you when he least expects it. 

Over time though, Ninjas started to take on mystical quality, largely due to their role as a stock character in fiction and especially theater where their stealthy abilities where blended with 18th century special effects to make them seem almost superhuman in their capabilities. There’s a (possibly apocryphal) story that I’m fond of that explains that the head to toe black we associate with ninjas is actually the uniform of stage hands, people that are meant to be ignored by the audience as they move sets and props around. Having one of these “invisible” people pull out a sword and try to stab our hero is a jumpscare for the ages, playing with the audience’s expectations and perfectly simulating the tension of a sudden assassination attempt.  Like everything else about the ninja, this gimmick eventually got folded into the “Legendary”  version of ninjas which became near superhuman practicitoners of various kinds of magic that bore little resemblance to who they were in real life.

As for writing adventures about those “legendary” ninjas, you’re going to have to read below the cut, because I’ve got IDEAS.

Setting: So if you’re going to write adventures about Ninjas (or any other codified assassin group), your setting is going to need a powerful warrior nobility that they can be contrasted against, one that’s divided enough that there’s lots of competition between different ranks and clans, but powerful enough that outright warfare between them would spell disaster for the lands they rule.

This is where ninjas come in, slipping through the gridlock of honor culture and mutually assured destruction to do the political will of those they serve. Some ninja/shinobi organizations might be sworn to a particular clan, while others might work as freelancers for whoever pays them the most.  If there’s a central power like an emperor/shogun/prime minister, the best ninjas are going to work for them, as if it’s one thing lawful governments love it’s having secret death squads they can send out to ensure their rule goes unquestioned.

It’s in this later case, where the ninjas are kept on retainer by another group that you get “ninja villages”, as just like any other fighting force, a group of ninjas will need people to do the work of raising food/making tools/keeping life in order for them so they can concentrate on training to become better assassins. These villages are likely only considered “secret” because their inhabitants don’t know that they’re supporting the ninja garrison rather than your average lord, because you wouldn’t want the peasants leaking the fact that you’re training assassins to your neighbors. To that end, a village that did support ninjas would likely have a small-fry noble figurehead to divert attention.

As for actual ADVENTURES with ninjas: if you’re going to use them as a focus you’re going to want to set up a court intrigue in the surrounding lands, involving some tenuously stable situation that’s holding on by a thread and keeping whatever fiefdom/territory/province your adventure takes place in from dissolving into open bloodshed.  (Be sure to scale this looming conflict in line with what sort of adventure you’d like your party to face next, be it a simple blood feud or open warfare between families/territories)

the adventure is set in place when the party witnesses this thread being cut (by a ninja) and is then about figuring out who sent the ninja/who benefits from the chaos while trying not to fall victim to the chaos themselves. This turns the ninja into a thread the party can follow into the knot of local politics, while the ninja themselves try to off the party to hold onto their secret.  Here’s some examples:

After rescuing the survivors of a diplomatic caravan attacked by a rampaging monster and slaying the beast, the party are shocked to discover that one of survivors is the betrothed of the local duchess who was traveling in secret before their wedding. Having suddenly earned themselves an in, the heroes are invited as guests of honor to the celebrations, only to bear witness to the duchess’s assassination at the hand of masked assailants bearing the betrothed’s clan colors. The celebration erupts into chaos, leaving the party as bewildered potential suspects. Who sent the assassin? An ally of the betrothed? Their disapproving family? Someone who didn’t want the marriage alliance to take place?

while stopping in at an out of the way roadhouse, the party is joined in their drinking by a rakish stranger with tales to tell and a bottle to share. He’s charming, a bit of a flirt, and he might have work for them once his current mission is complete, which makes it such a shame when a poison dart plants itself in his neck and he collapses into their shared table frothing at the mouth. Ninjas attack, looking to claim something on the stranger’s body, leaving the party to decide whether to tussle with these assassins or stay out of it.   If they stand to protect the stranger, he’ll pass over a sealed scrollcase into their possession, and with his dying breath tell them to seek out his lord, and that the fate of the kingdom may depend on it.

One of the partymembers has a history with a masked assailant who left them for dead after killing someone close to them, with their only lead being the shape of the mask and the distinctive marking worked into the blade that they were stabbed with which they still carry to this day. Asking those in the know eventually leads them to the discovery that this blade belonged to a band of feared shinobi that were thought dead and dispersed for generations after their liege was killed off during a rebellion.

Art

[griffintail]

The Lost Ones

Summary: Several of the SMP members find an infant in a place they didn’t expect and decide to care for them.

Pairings: Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Reader

Next

Warnings! : Swearing, Village Raid, Minor Violence, Minor Deaths (Mostly mobs), mentions of blood

A/N : I’m the biggest sap for child readers. Dating back to 2014. I literally couldn’t help myself. Just so everyone knows, I suck at writing in gender neutral terms, that’s why the reader is specifically female in all of these (Including Tommy’s, Minor Spoiler, Tommy’s just an idiot and doesn’t look). So, sorry about that.

I’ll most certainly will make more of these. I won’t always have it just like this, I might write a certain character individually in a scenario. It’s all dependent on my mood. I might add more characters! This is just basically the introduction. So yeah...ENOUGH RAMBLING! Hope you enjoy :)

       Tommy (Before the First Disc War)

        Tommy smirked proudly to himself as he tucked his new disc safely into his inventory bag before starting the walk back to his home. His adventure was successful, he managed to get a rare disc and it was now all his. Walking through the small bit of woods, he rested his hand on his sword handle. It was still night time after all and the monsters were out to play.

        As he could see the lights from the small town of the Dream SMP, he heard a cry. Looking back into the woods, he frowned before grinning.

        Someone is in trouble! He’d save them and get a payment—er— “willing reward” from them. Pulling his sword, he ran over towards the sound of another cry, this time the sound being continued. He rolled his eyes, someone was crying, what a pussy. As the crying was practically on top of him, he frowned in confusion as he only found a skeleton, which was trying to shoot at a basket hanging in a tree. There was no one there to be crying.

        He shrugged regardless, taking his shield off before going for the skeleton. It only managed one arrow before Tommy killed the mob. Looking at the basket, Tommy hummed before putting his weapon and shield away to climb up. As he got to a safe place to reach the basket, the crying now made sense as his eyes went wide.

        “You’re a fucking baby!” He shouted in surprise.

        Said infant noticed the new face and their wails quieted, but small cries still came out.

        “Quiet down. You’re going to bring monsters!” He hushed, moving carefully, getting the basket off, and brought it to himself. “How the hell did you get up here? Who just leaves a baby?”

        He looked down at the baby as he sat back in the tree. He couldn’t help but think how small she was, had he been that small when he was this young?

        “Guess you got nowhere to go huh?” He asked as the child looked up, their cries having gone silent seeing the boy much closer.

        They played with their blanket and he hummed as he held the basket close, making his way down the tree.

        “You’re lucky, a big man saved you! I don’t live far, so you’ll come with me. Of course, I wouldn’t just leave you here again.” Tommy rambled, despite knowing the infant couldn’t respond back. “I’m not some kind of monster!”

        He made it back to his home, putting the basket on his bed, and looked down at the baby with his hands on his hips.

        “If you were left out there like that, you’re alone.” This time, the baby gave a small babble and he couldn’t help the small smile that came on his face. “Well, then I’ll take care of you! I’m a big man and can do it easy! Phil took care of my brothers and me after all and he’s old and stupid. I’m young and very wise, so I can do it. I suppose you’ll need a name now.”

        If anyone had been in the room with Tommy, they’d be surprised how gentle he picked up the small human. Carefully, he held them properly, only knowing how as Phil had once shown him when they were helping a village out after a raid when he had taken the younger boy to trade.

        “Hmm, I’ll call you (Y/N)!” He decided. “And I will be the greatest father ever! And I know the perfect way to celebrate today!”

        Going into his bag, he grinned as he pulled out his new music disc. Putting it on the jukebox, he sat on his bed as the infant looked over at the object making the beautiful sound. His grin went into a gentle smile as he watched (Y/N) listen to the music. They’d both be happy; he’d make sure of it.

        Twenty Minutes Later…

        Tubbo sprinted down the stairs of his house as he heard frantic knocking on his door and the sound of crying. Swinging the door open, he let out a startled noise seeing a distressed Tommy holding a wailing baby.

        Of course, he’d need some help since there was just a little bit of a learning curve.

          Wilbur (Right after Declaration of War)

        Times were hard. Wilbur had just started a new nation to free himself, his friends, and his family from the iron grip of Dream and his friends, but they did not like the loss of power and declared war on him. As well as the war, Fundy had become a rather rebellious teenager and Wilbur wasn’t sure how to handle all of it. He didn’t let it show to the others though. He’d be a strong leader for them.

        He looked over his map of L’Manberg. They needed better defensive points…they fought with their words but Dream fought with weapons of destruction. They needed safe spaces to protect themselves…

        Wilbur jumped, knocking over an ink bottle over on the table when there was pounding on the van door.

        “Damn it.” He grumbled, quickly flipping the bottle back up and moved the map out of the way before going to the door.

        He opened the door to see Eret standing there, making Wilbur raise an eyebrow as Eret was on guard duty at the moment but looked shocked seeing what the other man was holding.

        “Hello, sir. They were just outside the gate. I didn’t see anyone else around.” Eret rapidly explained to his leader, the small infant wiggling in his hold. “I brought them here because they were cold.”

        “Get inside,” Wilbur instructed, going into the back of the van again quickly.

        He heard the door close as he grabbed his spare coat.

        “Hand them over,” Wilbur muttered, Eret carefully transferring his hold to the other man.

        Wilbur saw they had a blanket but it was thin and the child was cold to the touch. Wrapping his coat around them, he instructed Eret to light a furnace, which he did post haste.

        “Hello there, love.” He whispered quietly to the infant, rocking them lightly. “We’re going to get you warmed up and something to fill your stomach, how does that sound?”

        The baby didn’t fuss, too tired and cold to even thinking about making one. Wilbur stood next to the now lit furnace and looked up at Eret.

        “Is anyone out there?” He asked, his proud leader voice coming out.

        “No sir, I was worried about the child.”

        Wilbur nodded. “I commend you for saving their life, but I have it from here. Send someone to fetch milk and then please stand guard again.”

        Eret nodded before leaving the van.

        Once the two were alone, Wilbur sighed heavily as he sat on the floor, still close to the furnace. He felt the child’s forehead, feeling them warm up to his relief.

        “You gave us a scare little one.” He chuckled quietly. “But don’t worry, you’re in a safe place. L’Manberg will care for you. I suppose it was lucky you were left here rather than the Dream SMP.”

        He hummed quietly as he gently rocking the child, their eyes closing as they relaxed in his hold. As they relaxed, he gave a quick check for their gender.

        “Welcome little one. You’re the first woman of L’Manberg.” He smiled lightly.

        For a short while, he was able to forget about everything outside the van. He could relax himself and let his mind clear as he watched the little girl in his arms. They were both at peace.

        After a few minutes, he looked up as he heard the van door open. As he was standing up carefully, his own son Fundy came in holding a bucket.

        “Hey, Eret said you needed…What the hell is that?!” Fundy exclaimed in surprise, startling the girl in his arms, tears appearing in her eyes.

        “Shh, it’s alright,” Wilbur whispered to her as he rocked her again and he wiped her tears away with one hand.

        Fundy cautiously came over, raising an eyebrow. “Who are they?”

        Wilbur paused thinking for a moment, before smiling. “Meet your new little sister my son. (Y/N), the newest member of our great nation.”

          Philza (Right before Wilbur’s Betrayal)

        Phil shook out his wings as he landed in a village. He needed to rest them for a bit before continuing on his journey to L’Manberg. He had gotten word of how the tides had turned badly for his sons in the new nation they made to try and live peacefully. Originally, they hadn’t asked for his aid as Tommy and Wilbur had made contact with Techno and they believed with their older brother, they could surely turn it back. Yet, Tommy had sent him a letter with worry for Wilbur’s state of mind and Phil decided he needed to be there for his sons.

        Yes, he wanted them to learn the world on their own but there were some times when Phil needed to be there to help them.

        Looking at the sky, the night was fast approaching so he managed to get a house in the village for the night. Keeping his sword by his bedside, he went to sleep for the night…

        Startling awake, Phil heard the sounds of the village bell.

        “God damn it,” Phil mumbled, scooping his sword and bag before putting his hat on his head.

        Running out, he saw the cause of the panicked ringing. A pillager raid, and it was already out of control. Fires were crackling madly and blood littered the paths.

        “Shit.” He swore as a pillager spotted him and he dodged the arrow before running them through with his sword.

        The few surviving villagers ran from their homes and Phil went to follow when he heard a wail, the wail of a child. His throat tightened as he looked back to the burning buildings, his fatherly instinct along with his good nature kicked in.

        “God…” He muttered before spreading his wings.

        With ease, he was able to dodge between pillagers and ravagers alike as he followed the sound. Landing at the house that was most certainly ablaze, Phil kicked in the door. Holding his arm to his mouth and nose, he rushed in and found a small nursery, the flames engulfing the walls and ceiling. Rushing to the crib, he found the small child and quickly picked them up.

        “Let’s go kiddo.” He said as he rushed back out.

        Once he was outside, he took flight again and flew high enough to be out of arrow range, and flew far from the village. As he did, he looked the small child, of which he found out was female, over for injures as she screamed and cried. She had no visible injuries but Phil knew she had to have inhaled smoke. So, after a handful of minutes flying, he landed and shushed her quietly.

        “It’s alright kiddo, hang on,” Phil told her quietly as he went into his bag taking out a health potion. “I got something that can help you.”

        Being gentle, he gave them a few drops of the potion to hopefully clear out any smoke and heal the damage it might have done. The little girl gave hiccups and small cries.

        “It’s alright. You’re safe now.” He bounced her lightly, slowing down her cries to nothing. “There we go. We’re ok. Once morning comes, we’ll find the others of the rest of your village and see if we can’t find your parents.”

        The little girl’s eyes merely drooped and he gave smile before he frowned as he looked up to see the fires in the distance. They were a human child and he didn’t remember seeing any humans running away with the survivors but he’d try. And if not…

        “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you,” Phil assured the now sleeping infant.

        Technoblade (Start of Retirement)

        Techno shouldered the bag of wood he had gathered over his shoulder, his axe on his belt as he made his way home through the snow. The voices were relatively calm, not hungry for blood at the moment, and Techno was able to have a peaceful moment. As he trudged closer to his house, he slowed to a stop seeing footprints by the stairs and the voices kicked up as his thoughts went wild.

        Phil always gave him notice on his walkie if he was on the way and whoever had been there had gone up the stairs then walked away in a different direction from where they came.

        The voices were bringing up the question of if he was being scouted out. Who could have found his house? How did they find it? They started to demand blood.

        Technoblade took his axe off his belt while putting down the bag of wood. Going towards the porch carefully, he held it ready to expect the worse when he entered his house but he didn’t even go up the stairs to find something. On his doorstep, there sat a large huddle of blankets.

        Furrowing his eyebrows, he came up to the huddle carefully and slowly with his axe raised. Stopping when it was fully in view, he stared in even more confusion.

        “What the hell?” He questioned, lowering his axe slightly as he looked around the snowy tundra. “Who leaves a child on my doorstep!”

        In the middle of the huddle of blankets was a sleeping child, who wiggled slightly at the loudness of his voice.

        They’re an orphan now

        You know how you feel about orphans

        Blood for the Blood God

        Techno winced at the sounds of the voices as he looked at the child. They were right…they were an orphan now. Someone had left them on his doorstep and now they were abandoned. He gripped his axe tightly as he looked down at the infant.

        It’d be quick and easy…

        The small human opened their eyes slightly, squirming slightly as they saw him. Techno’s grip loosened, the voices screaming in protest. They were so small and so defenseless…he wasn’t calling for blood anymore.

        Grunting, he put the axe away, going back down the stairs to grab the bag as he clenched his jaw at the loud noises of the voices before going back and picking up the child with surprising gentleness as the child was startled slightly. He shouldered his door open, dropping the bag of wood next to the unlit fireplace before making his way upstairs to his bedroom. He put the child down, who watched him in silent curiosity as Techno took the walkie off his belt.

        “Phil, you there?” He questioned into it.

        It took a minute but the device crackled.

        “Yeah, what’s going on?”

        “I got a…issue. Come over as soon as you can.”

        “An issue? What kind of issue?” Phil asked in surprise as usually, Technoblade could handle most of his issues.

        “It’s hard to explain, just come over.” Techno rubbed his temple at the screams of the voices.

        “Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

        He put the walkie down as he looked over at the child watching him.

        “What?” He huffed.

        Then the child gave a small giggle, trying to get their hands free to hold them out to him. The man stood there in shock as his heart melted. He had not felt something like that in a long time. Scrunching up his nose slightly before coming over and taking the infant out of the blankets and holding her as he used to with Tommy.

        “What the hell am I going to do with you?” He muttered and the small human held lightly onto his shirt, making even the voices slow down.

        He down a level in his home to wait for Phil, keeping the child in his hold as he just decided to do his normal routine. He started a fire and began to brew a few potions when the knock came on his door.

        “Come in.” He called.

        In stepped his father, who immediately dropped his bag in surprise seeing what Techno was holding as he added a new ingredient to his potion.

        “Hello.” He greeted the older man without looking at him.

        “What the hell did you have?” The older man questioned.

        Techno looked over at him confused. “Blaze powder.”

        Phil took his hat off as he ran a hand through his hair. “I meant the baby!”

        “Oh! Yeah, this.” Techno said casually, the older man freaking out. “Someone left them on my porch.”

        “Oh god…are they ok?” Phil asked, coming over.

        “Yeah, they’re fine. They were swallowed by blankets.”

        The child tried to take a bottle in their hands and Techno simply moved it from them and kept working like it was the most natural thing in the world. Phil stood in surprise at how casual Techno was, he knew about the orphan thing and how vicious the voices in his head could be.

        “What…what are you going to do with the child?”

        “That’s why I called you,” Techno said, before holding the child to the man. “You take it.”

        “What?! Techno, I can’t just take this child. I…” Phil’s hand shook slightly at the thought of Wilbur. “I can’t have another child right now. And L’Manberg will question where I even got them in the first place.”

        “Well then what do I do with it?!” Techno huffed as he was surprised by the quietness of the voices.

        “Well…you could take of them.”

        “I don’t know how to take care of a child. I don’t even like children, have you seen me with Tommy?” Techno rolled his eyes.

        “You seem to like this one.” Phil pointed out as Techno was holding them willingly and at the gentleness, he had with them.

        Techno frowned as he tried to think of a good reason. “That’s because they’re quiet.”

        “Look…I know you don’t want to hear this but maybe you should look after them, even just for a while. I can see if I can find someone who wants a child.”

        No, you found them.

        They’re rather cute…

        Keep them!

        The voices had done a full turn around from when they first saw the child. They were demanding Techno care for them and protect the fragile being. Techno couldn’t disagree with them because in his heart…he wanted to protect the child that had been left on his doorstep.

        “Fine, I’ll take care of them for a while but you need to help me, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

        Phil chuckled. “Of course, son. We should look them over first to make sure they’re alright.”

        Techno rolled his eyes but agreed, listening to Phil as he told him what to do. The father was smiling proudly as even though Techno was frustrated with the new task, he continued with it. Once she, as they discovered, was checked over, Phil put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

        “What do you want to call her?” Phil asked.

        He looked down at the child, who was giggling as Phil smiled at her.

        “Blood Child.”

        “Techno!”

        Later, Techno actually decided on (Y/N) and for once, the voices were on his side.

          Eret (Before the founding of L’Manberg)

        Eret chuckled to himself as he walked down the path back towards his castle. Tommy’s antics for the day had been particularly ridiculous that it still brought a chuckle to the older gentleman as he went back to his home. He knew the days around the Dream SMP certainly wouldn’t be boring.

        Walking to his castle, he stopped as he noticed a basket left in front of the door and peered inside.

        “Why hello there.” Eret smiled seeing a small face peering back up at him as they squirmed slightly in discomfort. “What are you doing here little one?”

        He carefully picked up the basket and went inside his castle. As he got to his bedroom, he carefully took the infant out struggling a bit but managed before searching a bit in the basket.

        “Hmm, no note or anything.” He muttered as he looked at the child squirming around. “Well, someone made a mistake leaving you behind. Let’s see if I can’t figure out what’s making you so fussy.”

        After a bit of trying, first checking to see if she needed a diaper, he figured she needed some food and managed to get milk, putting it in a clean potion bottle to help her drink it easier. That also took a few trials, but he managed to help her drink until she stopped fussing.

        “There we go, now I can see your lovely face better.” He smiled as he sat on his bed, wiggling his finger in front of her making her giggle.

        As he played with the small girl, he frowned slightly as he looked over the basket that she had been left in. Why would someone leave someone so precious on the doorstep of his castle? It was truly a shame for those that did leave the little girl as Eret couldn’t help but slowly smile again as the little girl grasped onto his finger.

        “You’re not going to have to worry little one. You can stay here with me and you can be the princess of this castle.” He promised her, hugging her lightly, making her giggle. “I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. It will take me a little while to learn how to do it all properly but I’ll learn. How does that sound…(Y/N)?”

        He chuckled as he moved his head back as she reached for her glasses. Yeah, this sounded like a beautiful idea.

          Dream (The Very Start)

        Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask as he heard George screaming in the distance, Sapnap laughing wildly in return. Those two never know how to stop.

        “Come on you two! We need to build a house before the night comes.” Dream called to them. “Stop goofing off.”

        Yet, he could still hear George’s high-pitched scream and he just chuckled and shook his head at his friends’ behavior. They were the company he kept and he honestly wouldn’t trade them for anything.

        Eventually, they did stop screwing and they were able to get to work on building their first home of the new land they had. The three of them joked and there was some arguing still between Sapnap and George but it just made it peaceful for the three of them. It was how their lives were.

        Dream went to go look for some sheep to get wool for beds before night fully struck, leaving the two “children” at the house. As he went searching, he jumped when he heard the sound of screaming, but it wasn’t liking George’s scream. It was quieter but still a scream.

        “Hello?!” Dream called as he pulled out his stone sword.

        As he went towards the noise, he realized it wasn’t a scream of terror as he first thought it was. No, it was a screaming cry, the kind a child would make. He started sprinting at that thought and skidded to a stop as he found the infant that was making the sound laid on top of a rock, a group of three zombies trying to get it.

        Dream gripped onto his sword before shouting to get their attention and moved back, quickly taking care of the mobs. He pushed his smiley mask to the side of his face as he finished them off and rushed over to the baby.

        “Hey! Hey. It’s ok now.” He told them as he climbed up next to them, dropping his sword at the bottom. “All the bad things are gone.”

        He gently picked up the baby, shushing them as he put a hand on top of their head. Slowly, they quieted down and Dream smiled wiping their tears away.

        “Hey, there you go. See? There’s nothing to cry about.” He chuckled before screwing his face up to look funny.

        The child giggled and he grinned.

        “There we go. Now, let’s check you out.” He muttered, looking them over. “No injuries. That’s very good princess. Now, what are you doing out here?” He asked as he looked around, seeing no signs of human life other than the two of them.

        Dream’s blood boiled slightly. Someone would just leave a child out here? If it wasn’t for him, she would have died!

        “You got nowhere to go huh? Well, you don’t have to worry.” He said, carefully sliding down.

        He picked up his sword, putting it back in its sheath, before walking back towards his friends.

        “I’ll take care of you. You’ll be the princess of our new land! You, me, and your two idiot uncles.” He laughed, the tiny girl giggling at the sound. “And I’ll make sure you always have a reason to smile.”