#The Target Storybook

[familyparadox]

The short story “we can’t stop what’s coming” is so funny. Fitz finding out that at some point in the future the Last Great Time War will break out. Hie must have been like “oh no, not again.”

Like Trix was never involved with the War in Heaven and 8 can not remember it. Only Fitz knows about the War and he is not going to tell them. Perhaps Fitz noticing all the signs of the coming Last Great Time War was what eventually made him leave. He could not see the Doctor go through this pain again, and nor could he risk becoming Father Kreiner again and hurting the Doctor himself.

[story-of-the-infinite]

Fyi there is actively a Doctor Who story where 12 takes Bill, Missy, and Nardole to a rock concert, some rockstars yell "The Doctor's in the house!" then the Last of the Time Lords renders himself unconscious via stage diving and Missy tries to cure the flu to make him proud of her.

It's 12's story in The Target Storybook. It's called Pain Management by Beverly Sanford.

[agenderhyde]

missy wears docs.....

[jewishjanetandco]

missy owns a pair of "purple-glittery dr martens"

[chemicalarospec]

I never was into Monster High and the younger-demographic reboot appeals to me even less tbh, but honestly I have half a mind to seek it out in the faint, vain hope that it might encourage Mattel to reboot Ever After High. But on the other hand Ever After High's original design was so charming because of the elements which are now becoming charmingly dated to the early 2010s, so I just know an official redesign would just always be disappointing even though fan redesigns are always super cool. And the whole fairy-tale fad is over, I guess -- I bet there are still little kids who love it like I did, but the market is saturated (and apparently Descendants is still active, and I know they're still publishing their Disney fanfiction AU books...) -- so there's little hope on that front. But I'm bringing Ever After High back into my life myself anyways. Wayback Machine saves of the old website and my books will suffice <3

Edit: wait something is GOING ON right now?? something peculiar and iffy but SOMETHING!!

[bonkas-blurb-hitlist]

Untitled

Fandom(s): Original Work Prompt: N/A Series: N/A Length: Oneshot Idea: a princess makes a nest in the roof so she can read without a single interruption.

Notes: kids storybook style. ever increasing attempts to read. ends in a truce but she keeps her nest. tbh, it's absolutely a vent story

[likeacharacterinamusical]

have thoughts re: Two and Fugitive!Doc, but they’re not fully fleshed out

[molinaskies]

What We Get Wrong About Dark Sonic

I find Dark Sonic incredibly interesting.

I’ve said this before, but Dark Sonic represents an overflow of Sonic’s negative emotions, the ones he usually suppresses: anger, sadness, and fear.

However, many people believe that Dark Sonic is somehow a betrayal of Sonic as a character (even Ian Flynn, reportedly, but I’ve yet to see an official source). Sonic is meant to be a beacon of optimism. Sonic is meant to be the pillar of hope when all else fails. Sonic is meant to be the last one standing, no matter what.

In this sense, sure, Dark Sonic contradicts the notion that Sonic is “uncorruptable,” but I think that depends on how we define corruption.

I see it two ways:

1) Corruption by way of losing faith, through dishonesty and fraud. 2) Corruption by way of a forceful shift from one state of being to another.

In the first sense, corruption occurs when someone’s paradigm is shifted through lies, cheating, or manipulation. It’s a conscious mental shift. In the second sense, corruption occurs when something (or someone) is co-opted and changed without its will or influence, like data corruption, or a shift in the meaning of a word or image. It’s a literal, physical and/or metaphysical shift.

There’s a saying that floats around the fandom that says, “Shadow is just ‘Sonic, if Sonic had one really bad day’,” and I think that makes sense. Shadow is jaded and cynical because of how the world has hurt him, but he still wants to do right by people—just like Sonic. What separates Sonic from Shadow, however, is Sonic’s tenant optimism and positive paradigm. Without those differences, Sonic has endless reasons to be as cynical as Shadow, or even more so.

So, Sonic doesn’t let himself feel those feelings for very long, and especially not when other people are around. He pours everything into a clean, neat bottle, with a tight screw-on cap, right?

What happens when something tampers with that bottle?

Dark Sonic is a forceful corruption of body but not of mind. Let’s talk about it.

How Dark Sonic Works

What I think people misunderstand most about Dark Sonic is that it’s not an intentional state of being. It never was.

Dark Sonic is the polar opposite to Super Sonic, which is achieved when Sonic harnesses the positive energy of the Chaos Emeralds. If Sonic wanted to harness the power of the emeralds for the wrong reasons and his heart accessed the negative energy rather than the positive, he could possibly bring about Dark Sonic willingly. This, however, would likely never happen because that is the betrayal of Sonic’s character that everyone worries about.

That said, the only reason Dark Sonic ever appears is because of a mix of Sonic’s pure rage over Black Narcissist physically assaulting Chris and Cosmo and the presence of hundreds of the Metarex’s fake Chaos Emeralds, which possess an aura clearly shown to impact Sonic and make him ill.

Sonic’s first interaction with negative Chaos energy from the fake emeralds is filled with discomfort and even disgust. Sonic reacting to the negative Chaos energy poorly is critical, as it showcases that it’s seeking him out, not vice versa.

When Sonic was as triggered as he was, the negative energy from the fakes harnessed his emotions and corrupted him. It was a complete, freak accident.

This situation is very similar to Darkspine Sonic, the in-game equivalent to Dark Sonic from Sonic and the Secret Rings. Darkspine Sonic only surfaces when Sonic is severely triggered after Shahra starts to betray him, Erazor Djinn murders her (she sacrifices herself for Sonic), and he sees Erazor Djinn’s final form about to destroy the storybook world. In his shock and anger, the Secret Rings of Sadness, Rage, and Hate target him, painfully turning him into Darkspine Sonic. Once again, external energies corrupt him at the height of his emotional vulnerability.

Sonic never seeks out the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds because his heart is good. When the negative energy seeks him out in such overwhelming waves, it corrupts his abilities, alters them, and pulls them out to play.

But—

If it’s simply a matter of fake Chaos Emeralds, then why can Sonic use Tails’ fake Chaos Emerald in Sonic Adventure 2 without any problems? I posit this to the fact that Tails might have a better understanding of the balanced nature of the Chaos Emeralds (in that they are powered by both good and evil), while Eggman and Dark Oak have only ever used (or desired to use) the Chaos Emeralds for evil.

Recall Eggman’s laser at the beginning of Sonic Unleashed and Perfect Chaos in Sonic Adventure. Both uses of the chaos emeralds drained them of their power—their negative power, that is. (Albeit through different means based on the lore of each game), Sonic is still able to restore and harness the emeralds’ power because he relies on the positive energy of the emeralds. As intelligent as he is, I imagine that Eggman (as well as the Metarex) has a hard time replicating the intricate nature and balance of the Chaos Emeralds because their hearts are filled with hatred and turmoil, so unwilling to heed the perspectives of others. The power is there, sure, but not the heart.

~Chaos is power. Power is enriched by the heart~

Tikal's Prayer

I think the difference between Tails’ fake emerald and every other fake emerald we’ve seen in canon is marked by the fact that both Eggman’s and the Metarex’s fakes disintegrate after excessive use (i.e., Chaos Control), but Tails’ fake remains intact.

The Metarex's emerald disintegrates upon excessive use

Eggman's fake emeralds can't hold their form upon excessive use

Tails' fake emerald is intact and ultimately used to stop the Eclipse Canon from firing

In short, Tails’ emerald is simply a better fake, more accurate to the originals.

also, I refuse to talk about how dumb it is that Sonic was able to use a fake Chaos Emerald to do Chaos Control for the first time. However, it is canon, and therefore relevant to my point.

Another key problem cited in Sonic X is just how many fake emeralds there are. One emerald pales in comparison to hundreds. Sonic feels all the latent negative energy consume him because that energy is a corruption, itself.

It’s not that Sonic gets so angry that he just gives in to darkness, it’s that darkness captures him when he’s in extreme emotional distress and his guard is down. Dark Sonic is the result of negative, unstable, potent Chaos energy clinging to him, using his latent Chaos powers as a vessel when he least expects it and, thus, is powerless against it.

I think I can best prove this by contrasting Dark Sonic with Sonic’s other intimate encounter with darkness…

Sonic Unleashed, Dark Gaia, and the Werehog

I’ve spoken at length about this game and this specific scene, already, so kindly forgive my hyper-brief summary this time around!

When Dark Gaia’s “weight issues” cause its essence to disperse around the globe, many people fall influence to Dark Gaia’s despair, losing faith and hope in the world. Nothing like the influences of Chaos energy, but enough of an influence that much of the world feels it. A core aspect of the game’s plot is that Sonic, distinctly, does not. In the cutscene No Reason, Sonic asks Chip why he stays the same despite the darkness inside his heart while so many others change at night. Chip answers simply, saying that Sonic’s too strong to lose himself and that part of his good will is because he never doubts himself, even when he’s on his own.

The difference is that while Sonic undergoes a physical transformation, he never loses faith or gives up hope—made especially clear by the fact that Professor Pickle, once as hopeful as Sonic, eventually does lose hope.

Also key to note that Amy also never loses hope.

Unleashed is just another fun, high-stakes adventure for Sonic; there’s never a moment where he’s aggressively triggered by something or when his personal morals are ever tainted. Irritated, maybe. Flustered, even. Never at a loss. The closest we see Sonic come to this is when he loses the werehog form to Dark Gaia before the final battle. He falls to his knees, worn and exhausted, and tells Chip to run because he doesn’t want him to get caught up in the mess. Yet even then he’s not giving up.

That’s why Sonic’s heightened emotional state is so important to the conversation. When Sonic’s will is intact, he’s much stronger, but when he’s triggered by something and his defences are down, it’s much easier for corrupting forces around him to take hold.

Mind over Matter

Even with the parameters for Dark Sonic’s appearance established, something that stands out to me about Sonic’s encounters with dark energies, and something I see as additional evidence that Dark Sonic is only a literal, physical corruption and not a corruption of his paradigm, is that Sonic is still in control of himself—to an extent.

Even as he seethes in his amplified rage, Dark Sonic never inflicts harm on the innocent. After Gold and Silver are destroyed, it’s not expressly clear if Sonic intends to stop or fight Black Narcissist, but Eggman implies that Sonic was fighting Gold and Silver until there was quite literally nothing left. Sonic was given a target to attack, and he kept his focus there, even when other enemies presented themselves.

This also goes for the Werehog and Darkspine Sonic.

He also has the mind to listen to reason—from Eggman, of all people—and stop when it’s clear that he’s finished what he set out to do. Sonic channels his anger to where it needs to be, and it’s clear that Sonic’s moral code and paradigm on life are thoroughly intact.

The only thing that changes is that he’s no longer imposing his usual limits. Sonic is stupidly powerful, even without any power ups. If he ever wanted to kill Eggman, he would have by now. If he ever wanted to kill anyone, he would have by now (and technically, he has).

Sonic throws Erazor Djinn's lamp into a pit, never to resurface, effectively trapping him and ending his livelihood indefinitely.

However, Sonic holds back because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice—he doesn’t want to deprive someone’s chance to be good unless it’s been clear that they cannot be redeemed.

Why I Care About This

It is no secret that I believe that Sonic is a highly emotional character—far more emotional than many give him credit for. It bears repeating that Sonic’s emotions are very big and can be cataclysmic when left unchecked…

…but that’s just part of growing up—growing up as a hero and, damn it, even just a kid.

Dark Sonic isn’t a case of Sonic giving himself to darkness, nor is it a perversion of Sonic’s character. It’s an energetic, chaotically-charged version of Sonic when he is at his angriest—and even then it’s not enough to change his morals or make him lash out unjustly.

Dark Sonic is cathartic, in a way, and I definitely think it deserves its place in canon.

[bronzeagepizzeria]

it is hilarious how a bunch of dw fans don’t accept the actual goddamn show saying tentoo is the doctor but some obscure target dumbass storybook says his name is like corn or something and suddenly nothing has ever been more canon

[makeminemarvel]

Finally my target storybook rebind is complete! This is my most elaborate rebinding project yet, featuring an edge painting and hand-woven endbands.

And the best part?

The accompanying bookmark made from the original spine :) featuring my favourite doctor :):)

Process under the cut!

This is what it looked like before I started.

I made the case before I did the rest since the final dimensions were already decided, and I was waiting for my new book press to arrive so I could do the edge painting. I made the case with the constellation fabric I already had in my stash as book cloth, with a bit of iron-on interfacing.

Then I did the edge painting, and after that I glued on the ribbon bookmark and wove the endbands. Then just casing in!

This was my first edge painting, and I am surprised by how simple it was to get it to work. I was worried I wouldn't be able to get the layer of paint thin enough! But when it dried it wasn't too hard to separate the pages. The red endpapers were mainly inspired by the twelfth doctor's iconic red lined coat (can you tell i'm obsessed with him?), and provide a really cute contrast against the rest of the predominantly blue binding. The endbands look quite nice, though they are not exactly long enough and don't go right up against the case. The kind of thing only I would notice!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Not to mention if he had shown Tang, a scholar who lived and breathed JTTW, his memories... I'm pretty sure Tabg would have straight up attacked him for trying to describe what happened to Wukong while he was held captive by Heaven had been anything less than what it was: Torture. For example, at this point, Sun Wukong is more than a fairytale or storybook character. He's more than just some demon who lived thousands of years ago as a footnote in a history book. He's a person, not only that, but he's someone who has since become part of Tang's family! He's a flawed but still wise master who is impulsively self sacrificial to the point of unintentionally hurting the people who care about him, he's temperamental and tends to be forgetful about the limits of normal mortals because he's never had a baseline, he's petty, but ultimately... Sun Wukong is someone who cares deeply and honestly about the people who manage to get past the ironclad walls he has erected around his heart, someone who is selfless at heart even when his actions seem selfish, someone who has had a very difficult life and is still learning to let other in and trust them. Tanghas read Wukong's story a hundred times over, analyzed his written actions a thousand times, out of everyone he is probably the one who knows the ksot about Wukong's past besides the Demon Bull King and Macaque, the person who pribavly raised Wukong the most besides the Sentinels and his mate respectively. He recognizes how much Wukong has changed for the better, how he's still learning after all these centuries, and how he's trying so very hard to be a good mentor for MK and teach him the lessons he never had so he doesn't suffer the same way he did even while his own past comes back to bite him.

So no... Tang would absolutely be offended by Azure's narrative

YUP. referencing.

Tang about to bust out his Bachelors in ancient Chinese history and literature to poke a million holes in Azure Lion's whiteashed narrative:

(In the Scroll of Memory as Azure is showing his memories of the Rebellion): Tang, suddenly appearing in the memory: "Where is Erlang Shen?" Azure, startled: "How did you get in here?" Tang: "As someone who lives for this era in history - I can poke so many holes in your story. Sun Wukong was strong enough for the Jade Emperor, but fell to his nephew Erlang Shen, his Plum Hill Lads, and Lao Tzu's binding ring. From there he was tossed into the Trigram Furnace and was forced to endure 49 days of the Samadhi Fire to extract his immortalities." Azure, pleasantly impressed: "You know your stories well monk-" Tang, interupting: "AND-! I am not finished. The great Tang Monk, aka Tripitaka, did not yield to the Taoist gods! Only to the Buddha and his diciples! To call him an Agent of the Oppressors greatly overlooks how many times he helped his fellow mortals, even at the threat of being executed for his faith!" Azure: "You're becoming overwhelmed-" Tang, angry tears: "And I know Wukong! He wouldn't have targeted you guys at Camel Ridge unless you did something warranting his anger! How can you call him a traitor when YOU left him to burn!?" (*Azure's memories dispate, instead showing Wukong when he was with the Pilgrims - from the perspective of Tripitaka. Wukong is laughing along with his brothers Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, and Ao Lie*) Tang, volume increasing: "Wukong didn't stay with the Pilgrims to hurt people. He stayed because he knew that his mind and emotions needed healing after such a tremendous amount of pain. They cared enough for him to address this pain and help him towards being a true sage. Something your *Brotherhood* obviously never bothered to do! HE DIDN'T BETRAY YOU AS MUCH AS YOU BETRAYED HIM!!" (the memory scroll completely disapates back to reality. the entire MKrew + the Brotherhood are staring shocked at Tang's show of power*) Tang: *breathing heavily and angry crying* MK, wide-eyed and impressed: "...whoa" Pigsy, proud: "Yup. Don't try to twist what happened back then Azure. My Tangy knows his history." Peng, whispers to the others: "The Golden Cicada lives on. I knew I wasn't mistaken." Yellow Tusk: "I suggest we retreat for now. Once the Celestial Realm senses our escape, they are sure to have increased their defences." Azure, eyes narrowing: "No. We go forward with our plan. No matter what this monk-" Tang: "I'M NOT A MONK!" Tang: *casts Magic Missile*

Because at the end of the day, Azure understimated the receipts that Wukong's new dad-friend would have on their political movement.

[asha-mage]

Wheel of Time (books or show)

I'll go with a mix for this one.

A lot of the things that folks are crediting the show for doing 'better' then the books are not the show fundamentally changing anything about what the books did- rather its' a result of an intimate understanding of the books on a deeper thematic and narrative level, and making sure that comes through in the new TV medium.

Lanfear is a great example of this. In the books Lanfear is one of my favorite antagonists, because Jordan does an excellent job of conveying the nuances of her personality and deeper character to the reader, even as she herself is trying to present various fronts, ranging from 'classic storybook maiden' to 'all knowing sinister sorceress'.

There is nothing in Lanfear's depiction in the show that doesn't have a clear root in the books: her tendency to only be vulnerable when she has the shield of plausible deniability, the way there is more love and affection for Lews and Rand then she wants to admit to herself. The way her pride is her cardinal sin and she can't see it: even as she simmers with quite rage from having to present herself as 'less' then she is- rage that she finds subtle plausibly deniable ways to express at any target she has at hand.

The way her casual disregard for human life is born of that same pride and how it allows her to remorselessly kill without hesitation or regret. The way she holds herself apart from other Dark Friends, even other Chosen, because deep down, despite her oaths, despite her promises, despite having witnessed the Dark One's power herself, she doesn't believe in his cause. A part of her still views him fundamentally as a creature of her own discovery- she knows personally that he can be bested, because she broke into his prison with her own two hands, and that gives her the inescapable nagging thought that she can best him too, or exploit him for her own gain, if only she is willing to take the gamble.

The show's changes- 'Selene' being an innkeeper rather then a noble lady, her not using the mask of mirrors off the bat, Lanfear being exposed to Rand earlier and so being able to engage with him on later-book things sooner, even her slightly adjusted manipulation techniques- have more to do with the logistics and realities of bringing the story to TV then with the core of Lanfear's character.

It's all there in the books. It's just that like Rand, most people take the surface of what Lanfear presents as the truth, rather then digging deeper.

[story-of-the-infinite]

y'all know Gallifrey's a messed up place when someone calls the 6th Doctor the only decent time lord they've ever met ffs

[legok9]

My favorite genre of Doctor Who image is ones featuring all of the Doctors:

Doctor Who Special illustration by Peter Brookes (1973):

Timeslip by Paul Neary (1980):

Birth of a Renegade by Mark Thomas (1983):

DWM 111 poster by Alister Pearson (1986):

Doctor Who Pinball: Time Streams by Linda Deal (1992):

Happy Deathday by Roger Langridge (1998):

The Legend Continues (2005):

The Forgotten by Kelly Yates & Kris Carter (2008):

Endgame by Kelly Yates & Charlie Kirchoff (2013):

LEGO Dimensions (2015):

The Target Storybook by Anthony Dry (2019):

Doctor Who Day promo (2022):

Doctor Who Day promo (2023):

[curseanon]

I’ve decided I’m just gonna be the sole crewmate on this battleship that is adam x eve, no issues here as im plenty used to serving in the armed forces in defense of rare ships. shipping something where we literally don’t even know what one of the people looks like tho is a whole new level-

anyway here’s some headcanons I thought of. special thanks to Abbie0129 on Twitter for her artwork that helped inspire some of these, if u ever see this post I love you

-the only thing adam and eve were able to take out of eden with them (besides clothes) was a set of flower crowns that they made for each other and basically acted like their wedding rings in the garden. the crowns were blessed by the angels to stay preserved and they allowed them to keep them. it’s the only thing they have left of Eden (king and queen of this little slice of paradise on earth ugh)

-Eve was sent to hell because Roo (or whatever this force of evil we saw depicted in the storybook with the big red eyes and creepy smile) influenced her into eating the fruit (hence the red smile. shoutout to another similar theory I saw on twitter that said Roo only made eve eat the fruit and then left her alone, before moving on later to target Lilith, hence the similar smile on that card. So Roo is different from Eve and Lilith but influenced them both). Maybe Roo’s influence was still on her when she died? Idk

-Abel though, I have an interesting thought. My current take is that if he’s in the show and not retconned, he went to hell because despite his efforts to please the angels, he was acting more out of self gratification, at least in secret. Seeking the angels’ approval more than actually trying to be a good person. That and I think he died with enmity in his heart towards Cain (fair enough). But he wasn’t willing to forgive Cain’s actions, while he was dying or after his death. If he can’t do that, how can he expect his own sins to be forgiven? Granted this is more based on the Christian view of sin. Abel’s heart was not light as a feather, and he died hating his own brother, bitter, and unforgiving. Again, I do not expect this level of depth from Vivzie but that’s just my take lmao

-So that leaves Adam showing up in Heaven alone. Cain is probably still wandering the Earth tbh, but im open to him being more of a spirit now who can pass between earth and Hell. But Adam being alone becomes very damaging. After all, it is not good for man to be alone. He just chalks it all up to Lucifer and Lilith’s deception with the apple that created Hell, blaming them for all the evil that has happened on Earth and the loss of his family.

-When Adam comes back as a sinner in Hell, he eventually reunites with Eve (and Abel. And maybe Cain). They work through all the shit they’ve been through and decide to try again being a family. They harvest angelic metal from the weapons and have them fashioned into rings. Eve wears hers normally and Adam wears his on a necklace. They have matching inscriptions on the inside, where one says “flesh of my flesh” and the other “bone of my bone.” If u saw my other post mentioning this, you’re welcome ❤️

-Eventually they get redeemed and Sera welcomes them back with a little gift: the flower crowns from Eden🥰

[naiatabris]

That Rarest of Things

A little Regency AU drabble for Wyll Week in which Wyll tries to be the perfect heir, talks politics with a friend, and dances with a certain pale elf who has been watching him from the shadows. Prompt: "The Blade of Frontiers."

************************

The pale elf was watching him again.

Wyll tried to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He was supposed to be regaling Councillor Florrick’s guests with yet more tales of his time as the Blade of Frontiers, not ogling handsome strangers. And the man’s scrutiny should not have bothered him. Ever since his return to Baldur’s Gate it had felt as if all eyes were on Wyll whenever he entered a room. Some of the gazes were approving, the stares of people who looked at Wyll and saw a newly-eligible noble bachelor restored to his father’s good graces, the perfect target for a courtship. Other gazes took in his horns and the ridges on his cheeks and arms with loathing or fear; those gazes saw a devil, and little more.

The elf, however, did not seem to fall into either category. He watched Wyll with an air of weariness, of sorrow, of vague disdain. He tried to pretend he was not listening when Wyll described battles against goblins or encounters with a hag, but Wyll could see the way his eyes slid to the side, keeping Wyll in his sights.

Perhaps I am imagining it.

He knew he was not.

“Another stirring tale,” his friend Alys Towerfell told him once he’d finished the story and the crowd had begun to disperse. Wyll could see envious eyes on them the moment she favored him with her attention; Alys was a half-Drow beauty who happened to be the heir to a very large fortune, and Wyll knew that half the room would give their right arm for a conversation with her. To him, however, Alys was merely an old friend, the solemn teenager who used to read eight-year-old Wyll storybooks when their parents gathered for dinner.

“I have many more stories to offer before the evening is over,” Wyll said wryly. “Councillor Florrick and my father requested it specifically. Apparently, my tales of heroism are just what they need to swing the correct number of votes their way.”

Alys slid a companionable hand into his elbow and began to guide him into a turn about the room. “Ah yes, the city defense measures,” she murmured. “Lord Gortash cornered me earlier. He has many ideas about them. Most of them, somehow, seem to involve the city placing a large and lucrative order for steel golems of his own creation.” She scowled. “I do not trust that man. I don’t know how his golems work, but mark my words, there’s something amiss in their construction.”

“You’re right, I’m certain,” Wyll replied. Alys was a gifted sorcerer; if she said there was something wrong with a magical construct, he was not fool enough to bet against her. He was going to say more, about city politics or the golems or perhaps about Lord Gortash’s general oiliness, but a flash of white curls in the far corner distracted him. 

The pale elf was lounging against the wall, sipping slowly from a wine glass, looking out over the assembled company like a predator evaluating prey.

“Alys? Do you know that man?”

Alys’s mouth twisted thoughtfully as she spotted the object of Wyll’s gaze. “Mr. Ancunin. A fixture of recent gatherings, but not someone I know well.” She arched an eyebrow at Wyll. “Do you desire an introduction?”

“Yes.” Wyll realized, a beat too late, what that answer implied. “That is to say—he seems to be watching me closely of late. It would be best to know his intentions.”

Alys bristled, her shoulders drawing back and her chin tilting up as she narrowed her eyes at the elf. Wyll felt himself half charmed and half amused at the sight. Alys had always considered herself something of an older sister to him, and had resumed that role almost instantly upon his return to the city. But the sharp expression was gone a breath later, replaced by her usual elegant poise. 

“I agree.” Her drow-lilac eyes locked onto the elf. “Let’s see what we can do.”

To any onlooker, it would have seemed nearly accidental. Alys guided them around the room, chatting with the guests, continuing her conversation with Wyll. And then, when they were a pace or two away from the elf, she stopped and blinked as if she’d only just noticed him. “Why, Mr. Ancunin! What a pleasure to see you again. May I present Wyll Ravengard, only son of Duke Ulder Ravengard?”

“You may—and the pleasure is mine, darling.” The elf swept an elaborate bow. “Well. Haven’t you found yourself a handsome suitor.”

Mr. Ancunin’s eyes met Wyll’s as he straightened, and Wyll felt his breath catch in his lungs. It was a momentary reaction, fast enough that Wyll could almost pretend it hadn’t been there. The elf had been handsome from a distance, but up close… up close he was more than merely handsome. The other man’s gaze was nothing short of piercing and the smile that played around his lips was sharp and playful and wicked.

“You flatter me,” Alys said with a light laugh. “In truth, Mr. Ravengard is simply an old friend kind enough to keep me company.”

“As if you lack for company,” Wyll teased. “Every line of your dance card is full, whereas mine is woefully empty.”

“Well. That won’t do, will it?” From somewhere deep in his evening kit, Mr. Ancunin pulled out a pencil and his own dance card. He met Wyll’s gaze and arched one elegant eyebrow. “As it happens, my own card is rather bare. If I may be so bold?”

Wyll bit back a satisfied smile as he handed over his card. He had laid the trap, and the elf had stepped right in. “I would be honored.”

As Mr. Ancunin finished writing his name on Wyll’s dance card, the soft chime of bells sounded throughout the ballroom. “Just in time, it seems,” the elf murmured. He offered his elbow. “Shall we, Mr. Ravengard?”

The gleam of satisfaction in Mr. Ancunin’s eyes made Wyll wonder if he had been too quick to assume that he was the one laying a trap.

They took their positions opposite one another for the opening dance, studying each other all the while, pretending they were not. Mr. Ancunin was elegantly dressed in black with purple trim, a choice that highlighted his fair skin and pale curls. Wyll managed, just barely, to avoid tugging at the collar and cuffs of his own gold-and-white clothing. Even now, after nearly six months back in the city, he felt ill at ease in a noble’s garb.

As the music began, however, he felt his discomfort fade away. He had always loved dancing and he knew he was adept at it. He suspected Mr. Ancunin might be the same; the other man had shown a catlike grace as they made their way to the dance floor. But to Wyll’s surprise, as they began the steps, Mr. Ancunin moved with just a hint of hesitation—as if he were fighting to recall exactly what his feet were supposed to be doing and what came next.

Wyll’s object had been to learn more about the other man, to try to determine why he was being watched so closely. But seeing Mr. Ancunin ill at ease put him off-balance. Made him want to take the man’s hand and guide him through the dance rather than use the opportunity to press him with questions.

Spotting Wyll’s scrutiny, Mr. Ancunin flashed a smile, a quicksilver thing that did not reach his eyes. “When I woke this morning, I could never have imagined myself taking to the floor with the legendary Blade of Frontiers,” he murmured as their hands met for the first time, Mr. Ancunin’s black glove stark against Wyll’s white. “You’ve been amassing quite the audience for those stories you tell—all the tales of daring and heroism and mortal peril.”

There was an edge of mockery to his voice that set Wyll’s teeth on edge—and that sent a feeling of shame twisting through him. He enjoyed recounting his adventures for those close to him. But he was less comfortable doing so in public. He did not want to be thought a braggart or a fool.

I am doing it for the city, he told himself. Not my own glory.

“Do you have a favorite?” he parried, trying to act nonchalant as they spun round each other. “I believe I’ve noticed you listening. Once or twice.”

“Only once or twice?” Mr. Ancunin asked softly. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings then, my dear Blade. I don’t know what I find more astonishing: the number of stories you seem to have, or the fact that somehow, I believe them all to be true.” His mouth went tight. “A real hero. A creature that by all rights should not exist. And yet, here you are.”

Wyll wanted to reply, but the dance’s next steps took them away from each other, sent them weaving through the other couples until they had reached the end of the lines. When they faced each other again, Wyll met his partner’s gaze.

“I did what was necessary. Nothing more.”

Mr. Ancunin chuckled. “I think you almost believe that. Remarkable.” He stepped forward once more, met Wyll’s palm with his, resumed their steps around each other with more confidence and rhythm than before. “Perhaps it was necessary, all those risks and heroics and the years in exile. But few others would have done what you did. Which makes you, Mr. Ravengard, that rarest of things: a good man.”

The words nearly took Wyll’s breath away. It was as if Mr. Ancunin had stripped his soul down to its essentials and given voice to his greatest wish: to be a good man. A protector of his city. A defender of the weak. A worthy heir to Ulder Ravengard.

It was a wish he’d felt slip further and further out of reach every day he had worked with Mizora.

“I’ll make no such claim for myself.” He could hear the rough edge to his voice. “I hope I have helped those who needed it. Defended the city I call home. But I—”

“Too honorable to take a compliment, Mr. Ravengard? You’ve been so good for everyone else. Doesn’t it get tiresome?” Mr. Ancunin was teasing now—but his tone was not entirely playful. His voice softened to something near a whisper as they completed their turn. “Has anyone been as good for you?”

Wyll clenched his jaw. He did not allow himself to think about things like that. What mattered was doing the right thing, giving all he could. He did not keep score. He did not expect things in return. But—gods. It almost sounded as if Mr. Ancunin was offering something, and though Wyll did not quite know what it was, part of him ached to find out.

And with a flash of insight, Wyll realized that was exactly what Mr. Ancunin wanted. To put him off balance, to intrigue him, to draw him in. To what end?

“Why, it almost sounds as if you’re concerned, Mr. Ancunin,” Wyll said, letting warm amusement creep into his voice. “Or are you offering to be the one who evens the scales?”

The expression moved across the elf’s face so quickly Wyll might have missed it. But it was there: a twinge of revulsion, something close to a flinch. It was quickly replaced by a smile that did not reach his eyes. “And if I am?”

“Then I would decline,” Wyll said easily. He thought about telling Mr. Ancunin that he’d seen the expression, that he could sense the other man didn’t truly want a dalliance, but he worried that insight might scare the elf away—and Wyll very much wanted to know what this man was up to. 

“Doing good is its own reason and its own reward,” he said instead. “Though I suspect you’ll call me tedious for saying it.”

“Dear gods. You actually do believe that,” Mr. Ancunin said wonderingly. “How utterly astonishing.”

As they stepped back to their places in line, their hands parted—but Mr. Ancunin’s fingers rested against his for just a heartbeat longer than they needed to, and Wyll did not pull his own fingers away.

He bent into his most elegant bow as the final notes played. When he straightened, Mr. Ancunin was watching him with those bright, knowing eyes, a half smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s been a pleasure, my dear Blade. Until next time.” He lowered his voice. “And I do hope there will be a next time.”