#anyway I might add Castle muses soon

[fieryncbles]

Gosh, I'm so in love with Castle (the show & the man) but the fact that sometimes I make up better endings for cases than the writers is beginning to frustrate me

[amaranthineoceans]

Everything Weird About Deltarune!

Spoiler Warning for Undertale and Both Chapters of Deltarune! Really! I Literally Go Through Everything I Can Remember About Them!

This is a long post so get comfortable. Also note that my brain doesn't process thoughts into words very well so some of these might not be worded in the best way. :)

Deltarune. The first teaser chapter was released on October 31, 2018, and it came out of nowhere. We've all gone through this, but I'll try and go through every single painstaking detail I can remember. Feel free to reblog and add/correct things.

The weirdness begins right off the bat. The title is an anagram of UNDERTALE. We all know Toby likes to use anagrams when he wants to indirectly tell us when things are related, so it's no surprise that when you go to download DELTARUNE, it warns you that the game is designed for people who have played UNDERTALE. You think, "Cool, so it's a sequel? Or maybe a prequel? A different perspective of UNDERTALE perhaps?" You were wrong; so terribly, terribly wrong! I'll elaborate on this later.

Before you download the application, the terms of service that you must agree to beforehand reads simply and plainly, "You accept everything that will happen from now on." This detail was kinda brushed off in the beginning, because, hey, it's Toby Fox. He does weird stuff all the time. But even in the first chapter, it's apparent that the concept of choice, or more accurately, the lack of it, is a very present theme in the game. I would like to remind you that Toby has announced that there will be one ending in the game. One. I'll elaborate on this later.

The program (as in, what the game is called in your files) is named SURVEY PROGRAM. Why not just call it Deltarune like it is when you download chapter two?

The game launches you, without a title screen, without any setting adjustment options, straight into a reference to the theme of the entire franchise: the lack of choice. A strange formless voice guides you through "making a vessel", with what we know now as a fountain in the background. You have the option to make some very disturbing choices in this character creator, such as making its favorite flavor "pain" or expressing your feelings about it with options such as "fear" and "disgust." You name your "creation," tell the formless voice your name (which is different from your vessel's name) and watch as said formless voice muses over your name at an agonizing pace. It thanks you for your time and tells you that your wonderful creation, (cue music cutout and background removal) will now be discarded. "No one can choose who they are in this world." The screen slowly turns white as the voice says, "Your... name... is..."

It gets weirder. The next scene appears from the whiteness and showcases Toriel calling "Kris" out of bed. Kris' area of the room is very bare in contrast to the other side, which we later discover is Asriel's.

It's Toriel. Why is Toriel here?

Kris is kind of an anagram of Frisk (the protagonist of UNDERTALE) but without the F. I highly doubt this is a coincidence.

Speaking with Noelle is the only reason you can proceed (see what i did there?) while finding a partner in the classroom. This means you can't go through the 1st chapter without knowing who she is. Is it because of the Snowgrave route?

Ralsei is just suspicious to me. There's no way he was just waiting in that castle his whole life alone without some mental toil. So either he's insane or he wasn't alone the whole time. What happened? Is it related to how he can close his eyes and see what Susie is going through when she's apart from the party? Was he just watching everything? Is he related to the formless voice?

Susie's icon is the only one without color in the Dark World.

Jevil's fight is more difficult than Sans'.

Your actions have little consequence in the first chapter. If you choose to go genocide, the only difference in the ending is being run out of the kingdom, and this doesn't carry over to the next chapter. Again, lack of choice, people.

If at the end of chapter one, you walk around town, it's mentioned (notably by Noelle) that you're usually not this talkative. If you go to the hospital and speak with the receptionist, they mention that you used to play the piano in the corner. If you decide to attempt to play the said piano, an out-of-key bash can be heard and the receptionist comments on how you used to play beautifully. If you try this in chapter two, the result is the same. All this is confirmation that Kris is acting noticeably weird.

When you leave the Dark World and walk around town, you can find Sans. He "pretends" to recognize you, and if you tell him you recognize him, he tells you it's funny, considering that you two have never met before. He winks. I'm pretty sure he knows that the player is there.

The mention of Papyrus in both games, but the purposeful lack of him. Like he's avoiding you.

If you go upstairs while inside Asgore's flower shop, there are flowers in glass cases resembling his SOUL collection in UNDERTALE. There's a red flower.

You can't enter the church.

The clock in the storage closet shows a different time than all the others in the school.

If you go all the way south in town and into the woods, the music stops and you come across a rusty, double door is in a hill covered in crass. It's locked. If you go this way in chapter two, however, you watch a cutscene where you and susie happen to find Monster Kid from UNDERTALE (or someone resembling them) and an owl kid in front of the door. The owl kid is pressuring Monster Kid to (presumably) break inside, telling them that they don't want to be a wimp like Kris. Does this imply that Kris is connected to this strange door somehow?

The ending. You know what I'm talking about.

Did Kris actually rip out the SOUL (I say "the" because I'm not entirely sure it's Kris') and knife because they wanted to eat the pie? Did they only eat the pie because Toriel caught them?

Why did they look at the player? Are they sick of being controlled? Is that why they freaked out after the Spamton fight? (later)

Anyway, now we're at chapter two.

DELTARUNE Chapter Two was released on September 17th, 2021. 17. Entry Number 17. Sound familiar?

Asriel's part of the room is different from the last chapter. I don't think this means anything sinister, but I think it means Kris notices different things about the room as the story progresses. My theory is that it will become more sinister in each chapter.

Ralsei getting super excited to see Susie and Kris after a day. As in he has separation anxiety and it breaks my heart. not anything suspicious but it makes me sad so it's on the list.

Kris and Susie's rooms. Ralsei REALLY doesn't want them to leave. Seriously get this boy a therapist. Or a stuffed animal. SOMETHING.

Kris having to gather everything from the storage closet so that people appear in the Dark World????? Why??????????????? They had to do the same thing for the computer lab too.

The golden door. I don't trust it.

How/why the heck did Noelle and Berdley go into the Computer Lab Dark World? I don't see either of them just walking into pulsing void doors without Susie.

Apparently the knight has been gone for a bit and can corrupt people's minds? The king in the first chapter doesn't seem like he can be redeemed but Queen just seems,,, not bad, but a little crazy. I wonder what happened.

Then again, name ONE person in this franchise without trauma.

Spamton.

Horror doesn't bother me. Spamton? Spamton bothers me.

SPAMTON. ENOUGH SAID.

A Kromer is a type of hat invented in the '70s. Nobody named Mike is associated with it, that I can find.

SPAMPTON. HOW DO I EVEN DESCRIBE IT.

HIS SONG IS THE ONLY ONE WITH WORDS.

The way he asks Kris is they want to be a heart on a chain their whole life. Like, dude, no wonder they were screaming after the fight.

WHERE DID THE YELLOW HEART COME FROM. YELLOW MEANS JUSTICE. WHY DOES JUSTICE APPLY.

Kris screaming after the fight and the player not being able to hear it. Don't you dare tell me that's just how the game is designed. There are sound effects characters make throughout the game. None that I can think of apply to Kris, apart from when they rip their soul out.

Ralsei brushing off the Spamton fight. Either that's his coping mechanism or he was trying to shut Susie and Kris up to protect them from... something. I'll touch on that in a minute.

According to Queen, DETERMINATION is a key factor in creating a fountain.

Also according to Queen, Kris, Noelle, and Susie all have DETERMINATION SOULS.

Ralsei freaking out about Berdley making a fountain implies that he may also have DETERMINATION. Why I'm bringing all this up will make sense soon.

How was Noelle able to cast Snowgrave... a spell that she, according to her, didn't know?

The Snowgrave route is so twisted.

You manipulate Noelle into killing Berdley and then, when you get back to the computer lab and investigate his corpse, the text box says that he doesn't seem to be awake. As if you're in denial?

Burgerpants recognizes you. Not Kris. As in the player.

The ending. I don't think I need to describe it. Kris is very methodical without the SOUL. (I say "the" because, again, I'm not 100% convinced it's theirs.) I'm saying this about how they left clues that someone broke into the This proves that they are NOT a mindless, vengeful husk.

HOW DID THEY MAKE THE FOUNTAIN WITHOUT THE SOUL INSIDE OF THEM. DID THEY FEED THE SOUL TO IT AFTERWARDS? IS THAT WHAT THAT WAS?

Another point I would like to make is my theory that Ralsei knows much more than he would have us believe. I might put this into a different post because I have yet to gather my points into a coherent bullet point list, so keep an eye out for that.

Anyway apart from Toriel and Susie being VERY heavy sleepers, I think I've gone through everything. I have a few theories.

1. Kris is possessed by the player and figured out that they could make a fountain from Queen and related to Spamton freaking out about freedom. They then decided to make a fountain going by the logic that "this would tick the player off." This is one of my top theories that assumes that the SOUL is theirs.

And 2. Kris is possessed by both the player and the knight. I think the formless voice at the very beginning of the game is the knight, and they somehow needed the player to possess someone with DETERMINATION. If so, then why Kris? We know from Queen that Noelle and Susie, and maybe even Berdley also have DETERMINATION. The most plausible thing I can think of is the fact that human souls are stronger than monster ones.

I do think that the popular theory (about the one that suggests that the Dark Word is nothing but a figment of a child's imagination, and the events that occur in said Dark World are simply children playing with toys) has been thoroughly dashed due to Berdley's murder in the genocide route of the second chapter. Unless he's not dead. Regardless, how the events (or lack thereof) that occur in the second chapter play through the next will be interesting, especially considering Toby's announcement about how there will be one ending to the game. So either Berdley isn't dead, or he will be.

Aaaand I think that's it! Sorry for the long post; let me know your thoughts and if I missed anything!

[unhinged-summer-fun]

wip-date

yeah whatever portmanteaus make me feel something other than manic depression

i know i've been pretty gogogo on mesh network (a lie, but one i tell myself so it's true) but I do want to make some headway into my other WIPs. so here's where i'm at.

Top Priority

mesh network - almost finished with ch3, should be up today. i've got most of the story fleshed out in outline form (skeletoned out?) and i've been thinking of this AU for two years straight so it's coming pretty naturally to me.

30 for 300 follower celebration - there's only 4 of 30 slots taken so far. but i'm gonna get on those soon. still gotta make a masterlist for it. [adds to todoist]

belated af birthday fic for lellow - it's over 6.7k right now, but the latter half is super montagey and i'm trying to ramp myself up into being a story glider again. feel like a terrible friend, it's been four months.

Middling Priority

TBAD - chapter 7 is started (like around 3k rn) but I'm still feeling kind of directionless with the series as a whole. paranoid evil depression brain says i bit off more than I could chew. may do a reread once birthday fic is done to ~rekindle the love~

triptych - I have all of four paragraphs written for chapter 8. the end of the previous chapter kind of fucked up the initial timeline i'd had for this act of the story. i think i'm seeing a bit of a pattern with me avoiding writing smut lol.

art of second place - outline made, ch9 not started. it's a bit faster paced/covers a lot more time than previous chapters, so it's kind of outside of my current writing style. this chapter ends with the beloathed Plot returning. could be the reason for the block.

slut djarin - kinda lost in the weeds for ch7. there's two huge monologues in it, one of which will have a lot of hilarious wild smut, there's an orgy planned, and then a lot of plot happens which isn't really the point of the fic. thinking of starting from scratch and doing it kind of how i did the first three chapters (writing while watching, pausing to get lines correct, tedious but keeps me in the moment)

(other account) tusken din - whoo boy. where this current book (2 of 4) is sitting at, it's at over 26k and we aren't even like officially halfway through the season itself. this one's supposed to be a romance but it's really more of a solid coming of age tale. may pull back and revise from on high, or i might just try powering through to the very end. the document is very long and very intimidating.

collab with katee - still in outline mode, we're both very busy with very amazing and indulgent stories so i get it, but I wanna put some kind of oomph toward it. perhaps this weekend if i'm not too worn out.

Low Priority/On Hold

flicker 2 - max is on a business trip from his usual job of being my muse. also i don't really wanna write anxiety that's not mesh network

flicker 3 - this has three words in the outline: "the collaring one" and again (see above) smut issues

mando!reader/civilian!din - issues with din's role. considering just leaning into the absurdity of it and making him go full y/n and be a medicmechanicbabysitterpilot who's never held a gun. i think playing with that game would be fun.

bobadinnec wingfic - premise mostly written, still a lot of emotional heavy lifting to hammer out.

catboy javi g - officially delegated to Things To Handle After 4/22

whiskey/psychic!ofc - i love you joey and i think of you every time i paint my nails blue i just cannot concentrate on this many things

slow burn din/reader - at this point it's just a twinkle in my eye but i think it has potential, if i can dedicate enough time/effort to it. at this point in my life, i cannot.

daddy frank castle - it's more of a personal character study of him rather than something i'd want to share. it's rough and messy and doesn't really have a reason for existing. if you'd like to see it anyway please let me know.

Misc Housekeeping

moreno tentacles - this one's 4k and ready to go but i have a blood pact with katee that is as yet unfulfilled so i shall respect my blood brother and hang onto this.

that's all! please submit more 30 for 300 drabble ideas!

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 4.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.9k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Could you come over here please?" Snape's voice drew her attention away from the fireplace, and Robin found herself surprised that he actually even knew that the word 'please' could be used without sarcasm. If he used it in all seriousness now, the images in Robin's head must've left a deeper impression on him than she had expected.

With a touch of guilt on her mind, she got up and walked over to the table where he was working on whatever potion it was that was quietly bubbling in the small cauldron in front of him. If being here in his laboratory in her pajamas wasn't odd enough, standing next to him now in the same state while he was working definitely was.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked as neutrally as she could, as her eyes followed every single movement of his hands on their own accord in admiring fascination. Whatever he was brewing here, it surely wasn't something she knew, nor something that was easy enough to be taught in class.

He stopped in his work mere seconds later and turned to Robin with an odd expression on his face, one she couldn't remember ever seeing before. "What you see here is a potion I invented after the incident with the boggart last term, to trace the spells that have affected a living being in the past seventy two hours."

His words made Robin's stomach drop immediately as she caught on to what he was implying. But she didn't want to believe it just yet. "Why are you making this?" Her voice was far too quiet to even feign neutrality, but it would've been useless anyway in the light of the honest discomfort in her eyes.

"To hopefully confirm my suspicion. I believe you have been hexed for some time now."

Robin only nodded for a moment, wrapping her head around the possibility of that. It was likely, yes, but who would've hexed her? And whatever for? Well, they would hopefully find out soon enough, if she finally stopped being a dunderhead and got into a serious mode of working with Snape again. "What can I do to help?"

"That is the downside." He mused and turned to look at the cauldron instead of Robin. "The potion requires your blood in order to determine the foreign magic used on you."

"Alright, how much do you need?"

His eyes snapped back to Robin at the easy factuality of her voice, and the neutrality in his own was replaced by surprised incredulity. "A… few drops should suffice."

"May I?" Robin asked without further ado as she pointed to the knife on the cutting board in front of her, and upon his barely noticeable nod, she didn't hesitate to use it to make a small and precise cut on her left forearm, to which she then pressed her right hand to stop it from bleeding already. It didn't hurt, and she didn't mind. "Should I add it directly or do you need to do something else first?"

"Go ahead…" His voice was still everything but normal, everything but neutral, and his unusual quietness about her ways of assisting him made Robin wonder if she had made a mistake. But he had given her the go after all, and so she moved to take his place in front of the cauldron, then held her forearm over the steaming brew and lifted her right hand just enough to let a few drops fall into the bubbling liquid. It turned red first, then entirely black.

"Anything else?" Robin asked as she made room for him again, holding her arm far away enough from her t-shirt to not risk smudging any blood on it. The cut really wasn't deep and hardly painful compared to everything she'd been through in the past few hours, but she didn't want new blood onto her clothes again any time soon. The thought of that alone made the hairs in her neck stand up, but she figured that it would probably stop bleeding in a minute anyway.

"It was the last step." Snape replied quietly, but kept his eyes and frown on her instead of the product of his efforts. Robin raised an eyebrow in question in return, and that finally made him go on, even if not in the way she expected. "You really are a curious creature."

Now Robin's other eyebrow lifted as well, and she didn't know if she should feel flattered or offended. The crimson heat rising to her face didn't differentiate between that though. "Uhm, I… sorry?"

With a sigh he lifted her arm up by her wrist, in a surprising gentleness that contrasted his irritated demeanor, then pried her hand away from the cut to take a look at it. But Robin didn't even feel the cut anymore, for any and every discomfort was washed away by the pleasantly blazing sensation of his hand wrapped around her arm. Oh come on, Robin! Really?! She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at herself, at the same time as she suppressed the unappreciated tingles. There was no time for this right now, and there never would be time for it! Hopefully that would finally get through that thick skull of hers.

Before she knew, her arm was dropped to her side again, the cut gone and the very much different prickle of magic fading from her skin. "Thank you." She said, even though she didn't know for sure what had happened or what he had done. Once again she had been too caught up in her own head to be bothered with reality.

"I was under the impression that after what happened…" He paused, thought, and turned towards the potion on the table once more before he spoke on. "I did not expect you to be so… factual about the issue. In the light of recent events."

Oh… he was referring to the fact that she had woken up entirely covered in blood a mere few hours ago. Oh well, that surely would be terribly troublesome to anyone who actually acknowledged that it had happened as a part of their reality. In Robin's mind, the events were mere scenes of a movie she had seen a long time ago. Obviously her subconsciousness hadn't found any other way to cope with these memories, for that's what the pictures were becoming now, and Robin was fine with it as long as she could finally function again. Functioning, working, facts… that's what always served to make her mind shut up. But she understood that it must be confusing for Snape, who only saw the results of her weird coping mechanisms now, not the way of coping itself.

"I think I'm better already." She summed up her previous thought process. "Not nearly alright, but mostly fit for function. And right now I need to function to finally get through this mess. So, your theory… would you tell me more? How did you get the idea that I was hexed?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at Robin for a moment, but seeing as she looked back at him with calm seriousness, he sat down on the stool behind him with a sigh and motioned for Robin to sit down as well. "I have had the suspicion that something might be wrong with you ever since last Monday, when Pomona informed me of the incident in your herbology class. Then on Wednesday it was confirmed when you did not feel like working in the evening."

"How did that of all things confirm that something was wrong with me?"

"I have seen you working with a broken ankle after getting beaten up by the Whomping Willow. If anything stops you from following your passion for learning, it must be more serious than that." He stated, then continued with the previous explanation. "Of course I did not know the true extent or gravity of the issue before you let me see for myself, but if I had been aware of your nightmares at least, I might have been able to draw the necessity conclusion a lot sooner. Say, why did you choose not to tell me?"

"I wanted to!" Robin replied instinctively, but then decided to give a more rational than emotional answer. "I… wanted to tell you, on Wednesday night. But you were so busy with more important things and I didn't think it was important enough to bother you with. I mean, nightmares are just such a childish thing to get so entirely upset about… it's just not something you talk about with your professor if you ever want to be taken seriously again."

"Am I not taking you seriously?"

"Actually, you are the only one who does. And I didn't want to endanger that by complaining about something like this. I just didn't want to reduce myself to a pathetic little girl who is scared of something as childish as bad dreams."

"First point, if you call those nightmares childish then I truly do not wish to know what your childhood looked like. Second point, I would never think less of you for confiding in me about any issue at all. But I do realize that I tend to call people 'pathetic' rather casually, so I see your point in thinking I might do the same to you. I would never. Not… seriously, at least. You know that. Third and most important point, your nightmares weren't, in fact, nightmares at all."

"Wait, what?!" Could he repeat that just a little less casually?? And… not confuse her poor heart by actually being nice to her now?

"What you saw was beyond terrifying, but those images weren't nightmares. They weren't even dreams. Or have you at any point in your previous life experienced the very same vivid dream for a week in a row and found yourself able to remember every detail once you woke up?"

"No, of course not… it really is a bit weird, admittedly. I have actually briefly considered the possibility that they weren't my own dreams, but never that they weren't dreams at all. What were they though? And who would be cruel and creative enough to torture me like that?"

"That is precisely what we are going to find out now." With that he snatched a piece of parchment out from where it was stuck between two books on the other table, then placed it next to the cauldron in front of them. "The way this potion works is simple: you let droplets of it fall onto a clear surface, and it will spell out the magic last used on the subject whose blood was added."

While he did just that, Robin got to witness what he had explained and how it actually made sense when put into action. The black droplets seemed to soak into the parchment for a moment, then they formed the words that had been spoken, and thus the spell that had been used. A remarkable piece of magic, and Robin couldn't help the curiosity that overcame her like it would under normal circumstances.

"How did you come up with this?!" She wondered in astonishment as she let her fingers trace over the slowly forming words. They didn't smudge like ink would… curious. "It's brilliant, I mean… I wish I had the energy left to really think it through, but it's already quite ingenious in its existence alone."

"Perhaps…" He mused, careful in his voice of words. "I will explain it to you at a different point in time. If you would like."

"I would like that a lot, actually." Robin replied with a small smile, the first one in a long time. Maybe sorting through this mess together did help her in dealing with it after all.

"As for the current issue…" He went on then, directed at the piece of parchment, and Robin followed his eyes down to the now clearly legible writing on it. "It appears that my suspicions were correct."

"Okay, but what exactly does that mean? Did… did someone really hex me?" The insecure frown was back on Robin's face as she looked at the paper in an attempt to make sense of the spells. Some of them looked familiar… others completely foreign. But there were a lot more of them than Robin had expected.

"Someone tried to hex you, yes." He started, and his voice took a grave turn as he did. "This spell here…" Only once Robin had read the words he was pointing at, he continued. "It is a terribly ragged alternation of a simple charm. Instead of giving the victim harmless visions born of their own mind, the spell was reworded to give the victim realistic visions that were predetermined by the person casting it. This very likely is what was used on you every night during the past week to instil the very same pictures into your mind. Those dreams were knowingly forced upon you, that much is clear now."

"Who would go through that trouble to do something like that?! And… why not simply use legilimency to place pictures into my mind, it would be an easier choice for that, wouldn't it?" Robin frowned. "Why make things difficult and use a self-made spell?"

"I can only assume that the person behind this spell either wasn't aware of the advantages of legilimency, or was indeed aware of the fact that they would not be good enough at it to get through your defense. It is no secret among the staff that you are a decent occlumens, and I believe it should be equally known among your peers."

"So someone altered an entirely different spell just to hex me? To give me nightmares?"

"That seems to have been their intention, yes. But going by your experiences and my own, I am led to believe that while it was intended to be a hex, it turned out a curse instead. That would explain why it affected you so strongly."

"So I was cursed?!"

"Yes."

"Oh bloody hell…" Robin sighed to herself, and honestly she didn't know if she wanted to be relieved or even more terrified. On one hand it was good news that she was someone else's victim, not her own. But on the other hand it also made her someone else's victim! She frowned at another thought. "Uh, professor...? How exactly did the person who cursed me know what kind of visions they needed to show me to mess with my head that much?"

"It could be a mere coincidence."

"No, it couldn't. You saw what my worst fear was last year, and you saw the visions given to me now. Do you seriously believe that something that similar in both its manifestation and result could be a coincidence?"

"No." Snape replied with a defensive scowl. "And before you try to accuse me of telling someone the truth behind the incident with the boggart, let me assure you that I have better things to do than gossip about your fears and memories."

"I… didn't even consider accusing you of anything, actually." Robin said in a calm but quiet voice, as she realized that he really was the only person who knew about her fear in the first place. Still, absolutely nothing within her believed that he would've done that, not to her and not to anyone else. "I know you wouldn't tell anyone about what you see in my mind."

"And what makes you so ridiculously certain about that?" This, clearly, was a test. Robin could tell by his tone, by the frown on his face, even by the fact that he was asking in the first place and not straight out scolding her for making assumptions about him. But it was a test she felt ready to take, even if it was totally the wrong time for something like this.

"Actually, there's two very good answers to that and one you wouldn't want to hear: First, you yourself seem uncomfortable enough knowing about it in the first place, thus I doubt that you would have any gain out of letting other people know that you know. Second and more importantly, you are the smartest person I know, and therefore I honestly doubt that you would consider betraying the trust of someone who is keeping secrets of yours in return. It simply would be unwise, even if that person would never betray you in return."

"What's the third answer?" He asked without any reaction to what Robin had just so very frankly stated.

"That I trust you. Obviously. But seeing as that is my own sentiment rather than a tangible reason, I was under the impression that it would hardly matter to you."

"It shouldn't." He mused, more to himself than to Robin, and turned his focus back to the parchment so exclusively that Robin felt like she had passed the test against his own expectation. For that, she felt a little pleased with herself at last, considering that it was a huge success for a night that had already messed her up so very much. One small win that weighed up quite a few losses in return.

"Before we go any deeper into the question of how your fears became known to the person responsible for the visions, we might as well try to find that person and ask them." Snape commented a moment later, all back to the seriousness of before.

"I agree." Robin replied in an equal 'back-to-business' mode of behavior. "What do the spells say about what happened tonight? There must be one spell at least that's responsible for making me someone else's puppet. I don't really know about the blood or the other me, that might not be anything directly affecting me, but-..."

"Say that again." He ordered with one quick look at Robin, then a frown back at the parchment.

"Uh…" Robin was thrown off her track of thought by the interruption, but stared at the parchment nonetheless as if it would give her the right words to reply now. "I… said that I don't know if the blood or the bodies were really there or if it was magic, but I definitely know that one spell must've been used on me, at least, to make me a puppet of the other me."

"It seems like you just answered your own question." He pointed at another three words written close to the bottom of the list. "Do you know that spell?"

"It looks vaguely familiar, but I'm not entirely certain which bell it rings with me."

"It does exactly what you said: it turns inanimate objects into puppets at the will and command of who spoke the spell. Again, it was reworked to affect a living being just the same, but I believe that this goal was achieved with more luck than reason."

"So someone created a makeshift imperius curse. For me." Robin stated in a mixture of distancing incredulity and simple refusal to acknowledge the insanity of this. "And then they used it to scare me? I can't believe how stupid that sounds while yet being absolutely terrifying."

"This has to be the most pathetically successful orchestration of cruelty I have ever seen."

"That… is a very good description." Robin sighed, but she still didn't really see the point in all of this. Who would do something like that? And why? At least knowing the 'how' behind what had happened made her feel much less afraid of it. "Do you have any idea how the second 'me' could be explained? Or the bodies?"

"I do have theories, but no proof to either of them." He replied and folded the piece of parchment into smaller and smaller squares under Robin's careful observation.

"Still, enlighten me. Please…" She requested as she wondered what he was up to yet again when he placed the piece of parchment in one of his pockets.

"Polyjuice potion, any and every possible delusion spell, constructed illusions, projected illusions, mere physical acts of trickery, more altered charms, acts of-…"

"Alright alright, I… I get it." She sighed, and he stopped in his counting down of possibilities. "A different approach, maybe: do you have an idea who could have constructed these spells, or why?"

"Well, who would take such joy in your suffering that they wouldn't refrain from cursing you?" Snape asked in return as he rose from his stool.

"Maybe you better ask me who wouldn't like to see me suffering…" Robin scoffed and leaned the weight of her upper body onto her forearms on the table, for sitting upright and straight became too exhausting at last. "That would definitely be easier to answer."

"Maybe you could narrow it down to the individuals who possess the ability to rework more or less innocent spells into serious, even if adulterated, pieces of dark magic."

Somehow his words rang a bell in Robin's mind, and her eyes widened in shock and dread at her own thought. No… that was ridiculous. Seriously, that was just insane. But wasn't this entire situation insane enough already to make basically anything possible? Maybe. "I… have a name in mind, but it would be very inappropriate to say what I think in this case."

"I believe we moved past appropriate when you attacked me with a saucepan, so you may just as well tell me who you are thinking of."

"Professor Morgan." Robin blurted out before her lips could stay sealed, before her mind could find a better way to approach this delicate topic.

"That happens to have been my first thought as well." He replied as if this serious accusation was absolutely nothing to him. "However no matter how incompetent and imbecile I find that man, in the light of longer consideration I doubt that he is the core of the occurrences."

"But you think he's got something to do with it at least?" Robin inquired. Gosh, she wouldn't even be surprised if Morgan had any part in this. Somehow her problems usually came down to him anyway, or to the other Slytherins.

"I do believe he does, knowingly or not." Snape mused as he rounded the table and made for the door. "No matter what I believe, I shall pay him a visit right in this instant."

"Wait!" Robin blurted out yet again before her rational mind had a say. Maybe the tiredness was catching up with her at last, no matter if she could force her body to stay awake or not. But a tired mind meant a slow filter between thought and speech, and Robin struggled for a decent way to cover up the fact that she didn't want him to leave her alone. Not even in the safety of the lab. Seems like not all fear had left her mind after all. "Uh, it's… it's roughly four o'clock in the morning! I couldn't imagine Morgan to be awake."

"He most likely isn't, but that doesn't mean I cannot wake him up." It sounded way too simple put like that, unfortunately. "I want this issue to be solved as soon as possible and Morgan is a good point to start."

"Isn't it a bit… weird to come to him with some spells in the middle of the night to find out if they originated from him?"

"Is it? I am merely consulting the school's defense against the dark arts professor in the urgent matter of protecting the students from the dark magic that is inherent in these spells we discovered. This is important school business, and that makes it perfectly reasonable to find him at this time." He explained, and Robin found herself surprised that he bothered to explain his reasons to her at all when he had so often before made a point in not having to explain himself to her, or anyone else for that matter.

"Perfectly reasonable indeed." Robin sighed more defeatedly than intended, but quickly got a gasp of herself again. She didn't want to be alone right now, while they still hadn't answered all of the important questions. While she didn't know who had cursed her just to see her suffering. But she also knew that her only chance at finding out was for Snape to go question Morgan now. "Uh, what would you like me to do in the meanwhile? I… can leave, if you want, or-..."

"You should stay here for now, until the issue is solved. I will lock the door with an additional charm that should prevent anyone but you and me from entering the laboratory. Try to rest." Now, that was more a suggestion than an order for once, and Robin nodded compliantly. Before Snape finally closed the door behind himself however, he turned to Robin once more. "There are ingredients in this room that in sum cost more than the entire castle. You can believe me when I say you are perfectly safe in here with them. But I should not be gone for long either way." With that the door was closed, the room silent and Robin on her own.

… … …

After a moment of listening to the silence, Robin moved from the table back towards the fireplace. It wasn't all too cold in the small room, usually, but the warmth of the fire still made her feel more comfortable, especially now that she was far from appropriately clad and far from having sufficient energy to keep herself warm.

At least she already felt a whole lot better on the inside than she had a good while ago. Still scared, yes, and anxious as well, but not terrified out of her mind. Not like crying, not like running. That was a step into the right direction, and one she believed she had only been able to make after the threat had become tangible to her. It was far easier to deal with a person who possesses evil but mediocre magic skills than with a mysterious, allconsuming dark force that was ineffable in its extent and threat.

"Oh, Miss Mitchell!" A small, squeaky voice made Robin yelp nonetheless as it suddenly came out of nowhere, right next to her.

"Buttercup! Bloody hell, you scared me…" Robin said as she took deep breaths to calm her heart back down. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I apologise, Miss, I am terribly sorry!" The house elf looked to her feet in shame and Robin immediately felt bad for being so harsh to her in her surprise.

"It's alright, don't feel bad about it please. I'm just… jumpy tonight." Robin sighed and tried to somewhat smile at the elf. None of this was her fault after all. "Why are you here?"

"To bring you whatever you would like, Miss." Buttercup answered brightly. "From the kitchens or any other place."

Robin closed her eyes for a brief second and took one more deep breath, then had to smile for real. "Did Professor Snape send you here?"

"Yes, but he told me not to tell you that, only to bring you whatever you request. So what would you like, Miss?" Buttercup smiled happily, and Robin had to smirk at the clueless innocence of the young servant as well as Snape's attempt to conceal his any and every act of kindness. He might have gotten better at accepting Robin's kind gestures, but he definitely wasn't anywhere near accepting his own. Oh well, an issue for another point in time.

"I would like you to bring me three things from my room, if that's possible?" Robin inquired, and Buttercup nodded immediately.

"Yes, yes! Anything from anywhere, Miss!"

"Good… could you please get me my wand from my nightstand, the old leather backpack from next to my bed, and the black lace-up boots with the yellow stitching from under my bed?" Robin said a little slower than normal, not in a condescending way, but to make sure the elf could memorize it without a haste. No need to rush the poor girl.

"Certainly, Miss. I will be back in a moment." And with that she was gone, leaving Robin alone in the room again. This certainly was a spontaneous development of things, Buttercup showing up here, but not at all unappreciated… Robin couldn't wait to get her hands on her most precious belongings. Everything material that she needed and valued was in that backpack, except for her wand and her favorite pair of shoes. And if Buttercup found those as well, Robin could very well live without ever setting foot into her room again. She would have to live in her pajamas, but she would live indeed.

"Please don't startle again, Miss…" Came the small voice, a mere whisper, from Robin's left after a few minutes, and Robin felt touched that the elf actually made an effort not to scare her again.

"All good, I'm fine." She replied and immediately went to help the completely over-packed Buttercup put her belongings down.

"I brought everything you requested, Miss!" The elf said, still sounding overjoyed to be helping Robin out. "Your instructions were very helpful, thank you for your efforts."

"That wasn't an effort at all! It is the least I can do to make it easier for you." Robin tried to explain to her, but already knew that the elf wouldn't listen to that. "I'm very thankful for your effort to bring me my belongings."

"It was my privilege to help you. Would you like anything else?"

"Say, how did my room look?" Robin asked, coming to think back to the puddles of blood she had seen. "Anything… unusual?"

"Your room looked perfectly ordinary, Miss. Very clean for one of the students' rooms."

"And what about my roommates?"

"All four of them are sleeping, and one was snoring. And there was a cat on your bed." Buttercup stated positively, seemingly delighted about being able to give such a detailed report.

"How curious…" Robin mused to herself, but before she could dwell on it, Buttercup interrupted her thoughts.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?"

"I would like for you to accept another piece of the muggle candy I have given to you before. You liked it, didn't you?"

"Yes, Miss, I did like it. But you are too kind to me, I cannot accept any more-..."

"You would make me very happy if you could accept it." Robin argued innocently, even though she knew she was tricking the poor girl. But it was for her own good. "It would make me happy if I could make you happy with that candy."

"If it makes you happy, Miss… It makes me happy." She gave in with a sheepish smile, and Robin grabbed her wand and her backpack and summoned a Twirl with a simple accio out of the bag's depths to give it to the house elf.

"Here you go… I hope you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Thank you, Miss. You really are beyond kind. Us house elves don't receive gifts often, it really is special to be given something."

"Well, you could always take this candy back to the kitchens and multiply it. Then everyone of you can have a piece, as a gift." Robin suggested in a careful friendliness, and in the hopes that Buttercup would actually enjoy doing that. It really was difficult sometimes to get an honest opinion out of a house elf. Almost as hard as getting an honest opinion out of Snape, only in the exact opposite way.

"Would you like for me to do that?"

"Yes." Robin replied after a moment of thinking. "Tell them Robin and Professor Snape say thank you for the occasional chocolate cake, and the occasional help."

The elf giggled at Robin's comment and clutched the candy to her chest like it was the most precious item she had ever held. "Certainly, Miss. Would you like me to bring you anything else?"

"No. Thank you, Buttercup."

"You are most welcome, Miss."

"Actually, I would like for you to stop calling me 'Miss'... Just Robin is fine."

"Certainly, Miss Robin." Buttercup smiled brightly at Robin, who couldn't help smiling in return at the incorrigible ways of the house elves. Well, if it made her happy…

"Goodnight. Enjoy the candy." Robin said after a moment of silence, and the young elf gave her a small wave before disappearing again, leaving Robin alone with her newly regained belongings.

Sighing in relief, Robin took quick inventory of her backpack, then inspected her wand for any blemishes that weren't supposed to be there and finally put on the socks she'd stuffed into her boots the previous evening and then the shoes themselves. Funny how she had never before truly appreciated the luxury of having shoes… or clothing in general.

Then she tried to find the black jumper she was sure to have put into her backpack, but as neither the accio nor a physical search brought any results, Robin gave up on it and simply scooted herself a bit closer to the fire again. Hadn't she even put a darn rain coat in there too, at some point? Then she remembered… she'd taken both the jacket and the jumper out last Saturday when she'd gotten caught in the rain during a walk, and then left both pieces hanging over her chair to dry. In the frenzy of the whole nightmare thing, she had never had the mind to put them back into her bag though. Great… She would seriously need to upgrade her inventory once all of this was over. With all the space she had, she'd definitely pack at least two entire changes of clothes, some shoes and a blanket. But planning to do that in the future didn't help her now.

Yawning, Robin spun and twisted her wand between her fingers and simply gazed into the flames without any lasting string of thought. It must be nearing five o'clock… and she was dead tired. Maybe she should just close her eyes for a moment, only until Snape would return. If she couldn't think straight when he got back, she would be of absolutely no use to solving the issue at hand and that was the last thing she wanted. A few minutes of rest surely couldn't hurt anyone, right? She had her wand with her now, along with everything of value when it came to protecting herself. She was prepared now. And this probably was one of the safest places in the entire castle indeed, so nobody could get to her here… not even the nightmares that weren't nightmares. Nobody knew where she was, nobody could curse her. She was going to be alright. He had promised it.

With a silent sigh, Robin moved over to the nearest wall to lean against the side of the shelf, but it was too far away from the fire, too cold for her to be comfortable, and thus she admitted her defeated to circumstance and simply curled into a ball directly in front of the flames while using her backpack as a pillow. After everything that had happened tonight, this didn't even seem inappropriate anymore, and honestly, she also couldn't care less. She would pass out soon anyway, so she might as well lay down first. Indeed, before she could think of any reason not to, she had already succumbed to exhaustion.

______________________________

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[revolutionary-demosthenes]

Louis de Manoël de Végobre (Pt. 2/2)

So, now that I’ve written about De Végobre’s life in general, on to the second part... which I know I should’ve posted like a week ago. (Sorry!)

And as a prelude, let me just say that since there is so little on De Végobre, it is hard to talk definitively about really anything in his life. This post is going by the information that I have at the moment. 

So, was De Végobre likely romantically and/or sexually attracted to men? If so, who was he in a relationship with?

As mentioned before, De Végobre, Kinloch, and Laurens were very close while they all lived in Geneva. Even Gregory Massey, when examining their bond, points out that this was “the beginning of a pattern: he [John Laurens] continually centered his life around homosocial attachments to other men.”*(John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory Massey, page 40.)

(I wouldn't agree on the “homosocial” part.) 

Francis Kinloch and John Laurens were pretty likely in a relationship for at least some of their time in Geneva, but the question is, how did De Végobre fit into that?

The way De Végobre writes to Laurens after he hasn’t written for a little while also definitely points to a very strong friendship at least. Not writing for long periods of time was not unusual for John, the unusual thing here is how much Kinloch and De Végobre minded his casual attitude towards correspondence. This could also be indicative of a stronger relationship between them.

As an interesting comparison, Alexander Hamilton wrote this to Laurens on September 11th, 1779:

“I acknowlege but one letter from you, since you left us, of the 14th of July which just arrived in time to appease a violent conflict between my friendship and my pride. I have written you five or six letters since you left Philadelphia and I should have written you more had you made proper return. But like a jealous lover, when I thought you slighted my caresses, my affection was alarmed and my vanity piqued. I had almost resolved to lavish no more of them upon you and to reject you as an inconstant and an ungrateful [blank space].”

This is Hamilton after Laurens hasn’t responded to “five or six” letters.

This is Végobre after Laurens hasn’t written back to one letter (I’ve quoted this in the pt. 1):

“When I have wrote [&] sent an epistle, I am always imagining the history of it; I long to see it [illegible], arriving, read, and answered; I Keep in my memory its date, I calculate the time of its arrival, and I impatiently expect the time of receiving an answer. This longed for answer arrives at length; then I am contented, and beginning another letter I prepare myself for enjoying still such a pleasure. But—if no answer… What must I think? I am concerned, sometimes a little angry. How does my friend do? Is he sick, absent, or idle in answering? Suspense is a hard thing.

I have wrote to you on the 24th of December, you have not yet answered. If you are guilty of negligence, pray do not aggravate your fault by a longer delay. Fault, I say; indeed I think it to be a fault to let pass over a great time without answering the letter of one who deserved answer. There is the end of my chiding, and I hope my thanks will soon began: I mean, that my second stroke shall get me an answer. Indeed, I would be sorry if your continued silence would hinder me from setting pen to paper a third letter.”

“How angry they get when you don’t respond to letters” is not by any means a foolproof way to measure attachment, but the similarities between the responses are interesting. Hamilton’s is more teasing, but the basic message remains “Please write to me. I’ve written to you, but I’ll stop if you don’t write enough.”

Some more concrete examples of strong affection between De Végobre and Laurens can be found in other letters from De Végobre to Laurens, such as one written the 24th of December, 1774. In this letter, De Végobre again drops some very blatant hints to please, please write, and closes it with this:

“Adieu, I dont know if in this language I have been able to express my heart’s true sentiments; you shall see in this letter my knowledge in your tongue; you will laugh at my mistakes in grammar, but not at my sentiments.”

There are two someone’s De Végobre’s “sentiments” could be referring to. One is John Laurens, but the other is Francis Kinloch. In this same letter to Laurens, we find our first evidence that Kinloch and De Végobre could have been lovers. De Végobre writes in the above letter,

“...never, never in my life I have been so well entertained as when I read Milton; and why? First, for Poet’s Excellency, and secondly and chiefly because I read it with Kinloch. My beloved, my dearest friend is Kinloch; how happy am I, when I teach him some part of natural Philosophy, when I read with him both English and French Poets, when I talk with him about various matters plainly and heartily as with a friend! Let me say again, Kinloch is my beloved, my dearest friend.”

Well. This kind of speaks for itself. De Végobre certainly uses some very affectionate wordings here, and calls Kinloch his “beloved” and “dearest friend” twice in two sentences.

I do take note of Végobre saying “as with a friend,” as opposed to “with my friend” or something along those lines. The way Végobre phrases it could suggest that Kinloch is something other than a friend, though Végobre also calls Kinloch his “dearest friend” a couple times. Just... something to notice.

The best way to get more information on the nature of Végobre and Kinloch’s relationship would be letters between the two, but unfortunately if such letters do exist, they aren't available to the public. However, Kinloch does mention De Végobre in a letter way later, in 1804. This letter was to none other than Johannes von Müller. 

As you may know, Kinloch came back to Geneva with his family in 1804, and Müller actually might have stayed with him and his wife (after she had a baby and the midwife moved out.) Anyway, in this letter, (which thankfully is in English,) Kinloch is musing about remembering his earlier times in Geneva, and he says, “...De Vegobre I have not seen.”

So what? Well, this casual reference implies that Müller at least knew of, if not knew Végobre, especially as for most others mentioned in this letter Kinloch explains their connection to him. And there’s more-- Charles Victor de Bonstetten, Müller’s lover, also mentioned De Végobre in passing in a letter. This adds to the evidence of De Végobre being at least a little a part of this pretty-openly-gay-for-the-time-period group of people. 

In La France protestante: ou, Vies des protestants français qui se sont fait un nom dans l'histoire depuis les premiers temps de la réformation jusqu'à la reconnaissance du principe de la liberté des cultes par l'Assemblée nationale; ouvrage précéde d'une notice historique sur le protestantisme en France, suivi de pièces justificatives, et rédigé sur des documents en grand partie inédits, Volumes 7-8 by Eugene and Emile Haag, it says, “He also spent some time at the castle of Coppet with M[adame] de Staël, who more than once used his vast education and his extraordinary memory.” Here’s the thing-- Madame de Stäel and Coppet are also mentioned a lot in the book, Briefkorrespondenzen Karl Viktor von Bonstettens und seines Kreises, which is essentially what it sounds like; a ton of Bonstetten, Müller, Kinloch, Frederike Brun, etc’s correspondence. From what I can figure (the book’s mostly in German) Müller and possibly some others were at Coppet in 1804. The frustrating thing about the quote about De Végobre and de Stäel is that there’s no dates as to when he stayed with her, only that it was between 1789 and 1814. It may have been in 1807, but whether he was there before then I don’t know. But at the very least, De Végobre had some close mutual friends with Müller and Bonstetten.

As I mentioned before, De Végobre never married. De Végobre seems to have been a friendly and affectionate individual, and he lived a long time. And it was also rarer to not marry back then. Why, then, would he never marry? The reason that strikes me as most likely when put with other evidence is that he was attracted to men.

[atinybitofau]

[PART 4] S A N ⇲ royal series au

RECAP: san is king of eden, you’re queen of elos under one nation along side 7 other lone kings. the tension between you, san, and mingi get sizzled down when another king comes to aurora for a formal dinner. topics arise and san’s true colors begin to reflect in your eyes.

• series masterlist •

⇩ PART FOUR ⇩ , click me to read part three

Dropped now in studded gold, a formal dinner at hand, you made your descent down the long staircase of Mingi’s family home. You were lead by his handmaidens where you eventually find two of the men you had been playing with for the past day and night. Except a new guest on scene appears with a broad smile on his face.

They stood up upon your astounding arrival bowing and all commenting on the beauty you hold— foretold by honor of course. Can’t say that it’s not partly true though. The new guest paced himself towards you with a long bow before taking your hand and leaving a kiss on the back of it. Giggling playfully, you wave him off as he stood back prompt.

“As a neighboring Kingdom, I felt it deemed necessary to join you for dinner this evening. I hope you don’t mind, your highness.”

He holds your hand high and your own lifts layers of your dress to join the company at the table.

“King Kang, please keep the formalities for the crowd.” Chin up high, you set your silverware. “How is sweet Salem? I’d love to visit before I leave for Serene.”

“No need. With all this wishy washy treaties from far off kingdoms trying to marry me off, I find it harder and harder each day.” He sighs, the elegance just oozing off his Kingliness so diligently. “Won’t you marry me instead?”

“You know as well as I, Seonghwa and Hongjoong would never approve.”

“It’s because they still believe I’m sleeping around.”

“And are you?”

“He is.” San and Mingi mused helping the hands set the table.

Defeatedly, Yeosang mutters too, “I am.”

“Of course you are.”

You forget how tall Mingi’s genetics run in his family. His table basically was made for giants. And based on size, you were as good as an elf around him and his things.

“All jokes aside, this talk about marriage is making me curious.” Yeosang starts after you all mass great your meals. “Have you met any suitors as of late, y/n? It’ll be easier for you as someone with little experience and your kingdom now vulnerable.”

“There’s an idea.” Mingi reminds you of your conversation only hours ago.

San seems eerily quiet beside him, your eyes only glancing from time to time to the fierce eyed King.

“Seonghwa has lined up many Kingsman across counties, Hongjoong across nations— worried about how things might end up if I take too long finding a husband.” You say after formerly swallowing you food down.

“Those two.” Yeosang chuckles while sipping on aged wine. “Always a demanding duo. I deject the idea of them setting you up in blind arrangements. You should find a man you feel suited for yourself.”

“I need to focus on the coronation coming up.” you ease out of topic, wiping the remnants left by your lips. “As much as I fancy a husband at a time like this, I would like to be crowned first.”

“Your coronation could serve for two purposes, you know.”

You eye Yeosang in an incredulous manner. “And what other purpose would that be of?”

As someone who lacked relationship within the 8 kingdoms, San felt out of place. For an observant person like yourself, it was hard not to notice. San sulks in his chair under a feeling of harsh criticism, disappointment. It made him anxious. And it left him shy and outwitted.

“San, you should come.” The other kings glance from the juxtaposition a little shocked per se.

All but San who chokes rubbing at his mouth with a cloth napkin. “To settle with the heated hearts of the other Kings, I’m sure they wouldn’t find me being involved too heart warming.”

“Don’t be silly.” Mingi juts in bravely and halfhearted. “Seonghwa has a soft spot for you. They won’t mind it.”

You see San sulk in his chair and you notice. You actually felt sorry for him. With the things going on, the obvious uncertainties you all have regarding Eden’s pride and joy, you shouldn’t feel sorry for him but you do. Like you somehow just want to curl him up in a ball and hug him until a smile breaks out.

You decide to change pace of the conversation by asking, “San have you thought of finding a wife? I mean, with your booming Kingdom it just seems forthwith.”

He glances up at you now, raising an eyebrow over his hooded eyes. “A wife?”

The pace and direction you take under your own terms catches the table by surprise. The noble men stare at you with bubbled curiosity and reading expressions.

“I’ve always ever had my sister.” San adds a little muffled while glancing at the eyes in the room. “I never really thought necessary for another woman in my life.”

“My coronation will have many fine suitors for you.” You implement with little hesitation at all. “You should come. Maybe a woman could do you a little good..”

“That’s an idea.” Mingi’s eyes side-sweeps towards Yeosang who takes note of the invitation you share.

“It would be.. I’m afraid—“

“You’re afraid of?” You don’t wait for the normally jutted King to wonder over your thoughts. “King San, I assure you my coronation is by all means very peaceful. And if it’s judgement you’re afraid of, I’ll take care of the matter in my own hands. So will you come?”

San glares but in a light fashion. He doesn’t understand why you’re being so polite and forward about him attending your ball. In fact, deep down he assumes it to be a ruse in the making. But he knows well of what he’s capable. And saying no to a Queen of your daintiness was definitely something he was not capable of.

“I’ll try my best, princess.”

“I wish I can join you back to Serene, your highness.”

Mingi was to see you off, Yeosang long gone by the time you packed ready to go. San on the other hand was readying his troops and soothing his black stallions for the shorter commute home. You turn back to face Mingi who seemed now in distress that you were leaving so soon. You lift your lace veil off your face and lean forward on tip toes to kiss him goodbye.

He sighs with his hands on yours. “I really do dread watching you leave sometimes.”

“I visit often.” you chuckle tightening your grasp. “We’ll see each other in 9 days. It’s not too long now is it?”

“For me, it may be.”

“Don’t be silly.” you smile at him as he nods off an officer who whispers in his ear.

His fingers are rubbing at his temples, visibly irritant from the secretive request he’s been told. Your lips now frown finding it hard to watch him leave too.

“I’m afraid I’m being beckoned by the Grand Duke.” He whispers while leaning against your ear. He pulls you in a strong embrace before reluctantly leaving you first. “Please do be careful on your journey back. I will try to attend your Kingdom sooner than 9 days promised.”

“Rest.” You tell him honestly. “Thank you for everything, Mingi. Truly.”

He’s beckoned once more before he stands by his men to revel a bow before you and San. You wave him off as he makes his way back up the castle steps, his heart clearly telling him not to turn around. King Mingi was a romanticist. It ran in his blood.

“Unfortunately this will be my goodbye as well.”

You whip around upon pulling your veil back over your face. San’s now, hat over his curly night colored hair, eyes staring at you and only a mask to cover his lips. He bows a whole 90 degree angle before waiting for your words of honor.

“You will attend my ceremony..” You remind him with your eyes stern into San’s demonic eyes. “.. Right?”

He blinks at you once. “I will try my best, princess, but I can’t make any promises.”

You smile to yourself bowing your head in conspicuous respect. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill me through our time together. Despite the fact, I felt welcoming relief having spent some time with you anyway so thank you for that.”

You can tell the corners of his lips nudged just by how far his dimples caved in. You feel softly lost in his eyes by it being the only thing visible behind his mask.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to cut off my—“

“Okay San.” You cringe. “I get it. Thank you.”

“It was nice getting to know you Princess. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“So you are attending my coronation.” You call after him as he cooly jumps on his horse.

“I mean,” he stops for a second when his horse neighs at the pull of it’s lead. “If I’m requested by a beautiful woman, it’s hard for me to say no.”

You roll your eyes. “9 days, San. Don’t forget.”

The carriages start moving but San holds back just to get one more look at you under the rising moon.

“I’ll try not to.”

Call it anxiousness.

Or maybe it was the moon talking.

But you’re somehow weighted more when San leaves than just minutes earlier when Mingi did.

@atinybitofau

[whichstiel]

I made this art for the 2019 Dean/Cas Tropefest. (HUGE thanks to the mods, Jojo and Muse, for being amazing!) As soon as I read through the summaries, I knew I needed to try to grab the DRAGON STORY right away. I just...really love dragons, okay? This story is delightful and unexpected, with lovely world-building, rich side characters, and a beautiful romance between Dean and Cas. I really enjoyed reading it and working with zaphodsgirl! You can read Shadow & Storm by zaphodsgirl now! You’ll love it. <3

Here’s the summary:

One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Continue reading for some insight into the process and drafts behind the art.

Reading this story, I was struck by its lovely fairy tale vibe, which inspired me to make some kind of story-book art. I’ve always enjoyed pop-up books, so that seemed like a fun thing to try. My first step was to learn more about pop-ups. I turned to the internet for ideas, and found recommendations for: Pop-up design and paper mechanics, by Duncan Birmingham. This was a really useful book (I got it from the library - and you can too!) It gave me some basic structures and some general rules of thumb for how things fold and work when opened. I stuck with the simpler forms, given the short time period before posting.

Tools & supplies:

Cardstock paper

Watercolor paper (for the folding pages/backdrops and some stand-ups)

Watercolors, colored pencil, sharpie markers

Glue (I really like this scrapbooker’s glue pen for paperwork. Dries FAST and mostly doesn’t warp.)

Scissors, precision knife, ruler, protractor

Bone folder for pressing seams

Once I had some broad ideas of some of the rules of pop-up creation, I started to sketch out some quick ideas. I always like to start with the cover image, since that’s the main image people see when they’re browsing a story list. I did a few basic sketches on paper, but I decided the easiest way to develop these pop-up pieces would be to do what Birmingham called “paper sketching.” With paper sketching, you just...eyeball the pieces, attach it to a folded piece of paper, and cut away whatever paper you don’t want. It’s sort of like working with negative space in that way. Paper sketching was invaluable for helping me figure out things like: how tall should the mountains be? How high are the wings? What can fold together to lay flat? (Because I wanted this to be a functional book.) How long can I make that flame spout? (Not long, as it turned out.)

Here are some paper sketches I made of the cover image. A few of these were before I re-read the story and realized that the castle was built INTO the mountain. Oops. Building drafts helped me to realize that the concept was possible. Once I had some general structures under my belt, I could start to do the finer work of cutting out the final pieces. Draft work was typically done with sketchbook paper or cheap cardstock from Walgreens.

(Left: first draft; Right: Oh my god maybe this will actually work)

I wanted the cover to convey the full expanse of the lands surrounding the castle. I made my author draw me an actual map and diagram of all the agricultural lands. Thanks, zaphodsgirl! I chose black paper for the cover for REASONS you will discover when you read the story.

(Left: background watercolor progress with marker details; Right: taping in a quick test sketch to see if it will fit with the dragon and to test the angle)

Behind the scenes

For each design, I started by painting a watercolor backdrop, making note of the center where I’d need to fold the page. Watercolor paper was a pretty good choice because it’s thick and you can really crease the hell out of that middle joint - and the page stays strong. The cover is the most detailed. For the others, I went with more imprecise watercolor washes - mostly in the interest of time.

Finding a good backdrop is always a challenge when photographing art, and was a big issue for the cover since that dragon really gets lost if there’s too much in the background. I decided to go “Maria from Sound of Music” and pull down one of my curtains as a backdrop. That, plus desk lamps for light made a pretty good set.

This piece features Castiel fading into the dragon. I suffered from proportion control for this project but chose to forge on ahead, anyway. Sometimes the dragon is huge, sometimes it’s small. Oooooh well, it’s a dragon, anyway. :D The little Dean torso is intended to be a manually-opened inset, more to show his reaction than anything else. The dragon is 5 pieces - tail, head and forepaw, wings, and body. Castiel is a single piece; his fold is attached to the dragon and there’s a little paper accordion behind his head to keep him upright.

(Top left: I hate concept sketches; Top right: Cas coming together. I made him too tall! Oh well, I’m gonna roll with it)

Behind the scenes

This next piece was actually the second one I did, because it was the most complex and I wanted to get it finished so I wouldn’t fret over it. The red light is from a bicycle tail-light that I’m holding in the air with one hand while taking a photo with the other. I just really liked that little shadow claw on the ground!

This dragon was somewhat inspired by a Game of Thrones popup my author shared with me. My dragon isn’t as complex, but it still opens wide and closes flat, so I’m happy. It’s basically built as an upside down triangle, cut into a folded piece of paper. The fold is on the bottom. You can draw a line from the fold in its snout to a fold on its torso. The spines were cut out and glued on after the fact because I completely forgot to add them!!!

I was having some trouble with the wings attaching properly, so my test models had the dragon at various stages of height or angles from the ground. Too high and it would pop beyond the book pages. Too low and it might as well be sitting on the page completely. The dragon body has built-in tabs to which the wings are glued and the forest cutouts have this as well, for max strength. This is one of those cards where I went through enough drafts that I resorted to tape as a quick-hold option to figure out things like height and angle and how much dragon could fit in the folded pages. I ended up using an actual tool with (gasp) measurements to finally get the angle of the forest inserts right. Folding the test dragon into the card, I actually just sliced off the excess wing and tail that peeked out from the edges, then used that space when I was cutting out my final dragon.

For each of these, it’s best to get your pattern pieces as close as possible and then use that to cut your final pieces. The angles and length of everything needs to be fairly precise or what worked in your draft won’t fold well in the final version.

(Top left: So many draft pieces, so little time; Top right: Use math, kids!; Bottom: Dragon open and closed)

Behind the scenes

The last piece is modeled after a simple folding animal style. Its feet are glued symmetrically over the fold.

It’s essentially a folded piece of cardstock with an animal cut out of it. The head is attached separately, as are the wings and Amara. I had a star hole punch, which made it easy to add some stars to Amara’s gown as well as on the page. I’d wanted to do a big fold-out window arch here, but realized that it wouldn’t fit over the dragon or the Dean/Cas fold. Ah well. Please imagine it, instead.

(Top left: concept sketch; Top right: Paper sketching is a great reality check; Bottom: Amara astride Storm)

Behind the scenes

The final step was to turn this into some kind of book. At first, I planned to stitch the pages together. I’d never bound a book before, and I was cursing myself for putting down all those layers of pop-up inserts if I was going to have to stitch through each page. Then I looked at some pop-up books and realized that often just the edges of the pages are glued, leaving the middle to float as necessary. This was good, because it was a way easier option! (Also the dragon in the forest came out a little tight, so the float was very helpful there.)

I glued the page edges and, since they were a little curly from the watercolor and popup designs pulling at them, I weighted them with books to dry for a while.

I found an old book cover that would work (from a very outdated technology textbook). I sliced out the original pages, recovered the book with black paper, and glued in my new book pages on the front and back. It was a perfect fit!

I finished with time to spare, so I added a little watercolor and paper cut-out picture and frame to the front and back to add some flair. Please enjoy my terrible glue job. (I forgot to smooth the paper.)

I used a hair tie cut in half to hold the pages down for photographs (or display). I clipped two wedge-shaped bag clips to the underside of each tie to weigh down each side, and hold the book open at a slight angle.

This was a fun and challenging project to work on, and I’m so grateful to zaphodsgirl for all her effusive words and gifs of encouragement. You’re going to love this sweet story. Go read it now! Shadow & Storm on AO3.

(And if you feeling like tossing a comment my way, I’d love to hear from you here on Tumblr or on my art post on AO3.) 

[belzinone]

‘Redacted:‘ How does Bel dress? Of course there is her soldieruniform but does she individualize it in some way? how does she dress off duty? how when she has to be formal etc etc etc?

Send me ‘Redacted:‘ with Trivia or Headcanon and get secret info about my muse!

Bonus: Add a specific subject to get a specific bit of information!

// as a garrison soldier, she individualized her look with a red ribbon in her braid, a high neck lace up shirt, and a bustier underneath. her mother had her wrapped especially tight around her finger at this time, so she wore whatever tops she fashioned so long as they were 3dmg-friendly. usually they had a lot of corset lacing she wore loosely enough to work in. she presented very feminine because (1) it was the only style her mother knew from her Wallflower days and she inherited it (2) she was tired of dressing like a boy during her childhood. puberty ruined the original reason for it anyways.

// since joining the scouting legion, she generally dresses androgynously and for function (having learned her lesson from trost as well as discovering the comforts of binding from her battle-experienced comrades). as a scout soldier, she doesn't accessorize, just personalizes it via shirt like everyone else. it's a dark red/purple kind of color, sleeveless, and has a cowl/handkerchief kind of neckline.

// when out on the town, she goes with a bound chest, something loose to cover her neck, button-less shirts (often sleeveless), knee-high boots (to tuck her valuables), variously-fitting trousers, her scout cloak (usually turned inside-out), and similar unisex styles. it's not beyond her to go out in her uniform sans the harness & hip guard or throw her uniform jacket over something casual if being percieved as a scout soldier is a nonissue. at first glance, she definitely looks male and would pass for one until she speaks and/or she's thoroughly checked out. though she's most comfortable going out this way, it minorly offends her when people mistake her.

// on the off occasion she presents more feminine, she'll dress a bit more flashy, nothing less than provocative. in other words, her fashion sense swings between vaguely male-passing to harlot-passing haha. bare shoulders, off-shoulder peasant blouses, fitted bodices with loose or absent upper lacing, hanging necklines, casual burlesque-like skirts, and other audacious dresses that would raise the occasional brow in the... pseudomedieval(?) kinda time period snk takes place in. she does have some more plain feminine clothing remniscent of Sasha's outfit during the cooking ova that she'd wear when feeling more secure in her identity.

// she might mix these styles and achieve a sort of 'casual knightess storming the castle' kind of look (ex: situations where she doesn't have time for dysphoria and/or binding, such as during the uprising arc), but is more likely to swing the extremes (metaphorically akin to her dysphoric coping mechanisms). thank god she has to be in uniform like 90% of the time, otherwise her daily routine would include a morning identity crisis.

// formal occassions more than compensate for that though lmao. she agonizes not over what type of dress to wear, but over whether she should wear a dress or a suit. formal events are meant for dressing up and looking your best, but she can't even figure out what's real for her, let alone her best so it's a high time for stress while her peers are probably looking forward to a lavish banquet. depending on how she feels, she'd dress in full drag from top hat to wing tips or like a Sina noblewoman, corset and ballgown and all. her faceclaim does a good job showing this. it's not coincidental lol

// we all know she sleeps in 50 shades of lingerie. bras, risqué panties, bustiers, garter belts, stockings, robes, babydolls, nightgowns, negligés, robes... i spam y'all with these way too much but she just loves them THAT much. they comfort her more than anything else money can buy (though it's a very guilty pleasure of hers, especially in her snk verses because they're luxury items). her initial collection started with her mother's hand-me-downs, but soon as she rose the ranks to officer, her collection grew almost exponentially. somebody get this woman a therapist or a lover or a good friend or anyone pfffttt

// the only other clothing-sensitive scenario i can think of in the snk verse is swimming, so hands down, bel is a slutty bikini bitch all the way. if they exist in the era, she'd go swimming at a lake or at the beach in something similar to what Hitch wears in the latest official art. maybe she'd tie on a skirt. either way, she'd get a gorgeous tan~

[flipomatic]

Reason to Stay: Chapter 4

Author Note: Onward we go!

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

After getting everything in order, Sayo found herself at the castle stables. She had gone to the inn after they split up to get the rest of her belongings and to speak with the innkeeper. Since she already paid for another night, Misaki told her she could use that one night when she returned to town.

This annoyed Sayo a bit, since perhaps the woman was bidding on her dying on this mission in order to keep the money, but ultimately it didn’t matter. If she died then she wouldn’t need the money anyway. She agreed to the terms and then went to practice archery. There would be bandits to fight on this journey and being rusty could get her killed. Sayo found a clearing just outside of town and practiced on a tree. It wasn’t the ideal target, but it was good enough to hone her skills and make sure she was ready for the task to come.

Sayo then went to the castle and asked the guard how to get to the stables. The woman looked at her as if she’d grown another head, but gave the directions she asked for. When Sayo arrived at the stables Yukina and Lisa were already standing in front of it, talking to a shorter woman with hair a lighter shade of blue than Sayo’s. Lisa was carrying a shield significantly larger than the one strapped to her hip that morning and Yukina had an additional sword strapped to her back. Another girl stood with them as well, the girl with pigtails who Sayo saw the previous day. She was a whole head shorter than the others present, perhaps a teenager. There was an additional gate near the stables, taller than the one in front of the castle.

“I got enough rations for three days.” The pigtailed girl was saying, handing a sack over to Yukina.

“Good work Ako.” Yukina acknowledged her as she accepted the bag. Sayo noted the girls name, Ako, in her mind. “Stay out of trouble while we’re gone.”

“Of course I will!” Ako puffed up her chest, not seeing Lisa chuckling beside her. “Though the forces of darkness can’t always be controlled.” She laughed darkly.

Sayo was tired of eavesdropping and closed the distance between herself and the others, making her presence known.

“Hey Sayo!” Lisa greeted her warmly. “We’re just getting ready to head out. This amazing woman is our stablemaster Kanon.” She gestured with one hand and then turned towards the blue haired woman. “Kanon, this is Sayo. Is there a horse she can borrow? It’s only for a couple days.”

“Umm…” Kanon held her hands together nervously, eyeing a spot over Sayo’s shoulder. “I think Neko might be available.” She wrung her hands in a repetitive motion.

“Fantastic.” Lisa beamed. “You’re the best!” She put one arm around Kanon, patting her on the back.

A light pink dusted over Kanon’s cheeks. “It’s no problem.” She muttered quietly. “We should go get the horses.” She stepped away from Lisa’s grasp and led the group into the stables. Sayo’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light.

Yukina and Lisa each went to a different stall, likely the ones containing their horses. Ako stuck with Yukina. Sayo followed Kanon to a different section of the stables, stopping in front of a stall with a dark brown horse in it.

“This is Neko.” Kanon opened the stall door and Sayo stepped forward. “She’s a good horse. You should umm, introduce yourself. I’ll be right back with the supplies.” She vanished to accomplish that task, leaving Sayo alone with the horse. She felt mostly confident; her track record with horses was around 75 percent.

“Hello.” Sayo said lowly as she reached one hand towards the horse’s neck. “I’ll be riding you for the next couple days, please be kind to me.” The great beast barely reacted as Sayo touched it, gently running her fingers down the side of its neck. This was a good start; they were going to get along well.

Kanon reappeared behind her, startling Sayo slightly. “Excuse me.” She said just loud enough to hear, and Sayo backed out of the stall to let Kanon take her place. The woman brought a saddle, bridle, saddlebags, and what Sayo assumed to be a bag of feed for the horse. Sayo watched as she put the saddle on, cooing gently at the horse in the process.

After a few minutes, the horse was ready. Kanon led her forward out of the stall, and handed the reigns to Sayo. With one last thanks, Sayo accepted the reigns. She walked the horse out of the stable, to where Yukina and Lisa had already mounted up. They rode matching light brown horses, with tan spots in different places. Ako stood nearby and was chatting energetically with Yukina. Sayo quickly stowed her belongings along with the feed in the saddle bags. She didn’t have that many things, so it didn’t take long.

Sayo lifted herself up onto the horse. It had been a while since she rode one, but she was competent enough at it to manage for a couple days.

“I’m ready.” She called over to the pair of knights.

“Let’s go then.” Yukina said as she started her horse walking, with Lisa and then Sayo following behind.

Ako waved as they left the side gate. “Bye!” She called after them, before shutting the gate behind them.

The trio took a side road towards the east gate, moving at a walking pace and taking care not to injure any civilians. Yukina took the lead as their horses walked in almost single file. The group soon reached the gate and emerged onto the open road. They stopped and dismounted for a moment to double check the map and make some plans.

“The lake is about five kilometers east of town.” Yukina pointed to it on the map. “And I think our best strategy would be to attack in the early morning, before the sun rises.”

“That’s a good idea.” Sayo found herself agreeing. “They won’t be expecting it.”

Yukina nodded. “Exactly.”

Lisa’s eyebrows scrunched up. “We’ll need to find a place to camp then.” She leaned over the map, placing one finger down about a kilometer west of the lake. “If I remember correctly, there’s a clearing near here.” It was impressive that she knew the area well enough to know that.

“That works.” Yukina marked the spot. “As for riding formation, I’ll take the lead.” She said as she rolled up the map.

“No way.” Lisa protested with the first frown Sayo had seen from her. “I’ll be in the lead, and the two of you should ride side by side behind me.” She made a little triangle with her fingers to show the formation.

Sayo, for her part, didn’t want to ride in the lead. Since she didn’t carry a shield, she should be somewhere in the back. She also wasn’t sure why these two were arguing about it; it seemed clear to her that Lisa, who carried a larger shield, should take the head of the party. If they encountered danger then she would be most likely to survive a frontal assault.

What kind of odd knights were these that they would fight about something such as this?

They went back and forth for a few minutes, each insisting that they head the group. Their words remained at a regular speaking volume but increased in ferocity.

After ten minutes Sayo just couldn’t take it anymore.

“We’re burning daylight.” She scowled as the pair both turned to her in surprise. “Just let Lisa take the lead so we can get out of here.” Yukina’s frown deepened at her interjection, but Lisa regained her smile.

“See, Sayo agrees with me.” She said firmly and, seeming to consider the conversation over, returned to her horse. “Let’s go, I’ll take the front.”

Sayo remounted as well, ignoring the angry golden eyes following her every move. Within a minute they were ready to move out and set off down the road at a trot. It would take a couple hours to reach their camping location at this pace, but they had plenty of time and didn’t need to burn out the horses.

They rode in silence for the first ten minutes, with Sayo taking up the back left corner of the triangle. She kept her eyes alert for danger, which would become more and more likely the farther they journeyed from the city.

The small talk caught her off guard.

“Where are you from, Sayo?” Lisa asked from her hard fought for spot in the front, turning her head back towards Sayo to be heard.

“Haneoka.” She replied, only providing the basics. She kept her eyes on the horizon as they rode.

“Wow,” Lisa seemed satisfied with the answer. “You’ve come a long way to Circle then.”

“I suppose.” Sayo mused, thinking about all the detours that brought her here and the reason she left home on the first place.

Lisa continued speaking, somehow able to make conversation even out of the barest of responses. “Yukina and I have lived here our whole lives, we joined up as pages when we were kids.”

“Interesting.” Sayo responded levelly. “So you’re both close combatants then?” Considering the weapons they carried, this was a safe assumption.

“Yes.” Yukina contributed to the conversation for the first time. “I prefer the longsword.” She reached up with one hand to touch the hilt of the blade on her back. “Lisa uses a short sword and shield.” That matched what Sayo assumed based on their equipment, and she was glad Lisa was riding in the front.

“I’m primarily an archer.” Sayo looked between the two of them. “But I can also use a short sword.” She didn’t add that she was only mediocre with the sword.

“When we encounter them, we’ll charge in.” Lisa added from the front, thankfully switching out of small talk mode and into strategy mode. “You can hang back and shoot.”

“I’ll aim for the archer first.” Sayo said with a nod. “And then support you against the others.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Lisa shot back a thumbs up.

The rest of the ride continue in scattered conversation, mostly between Lisa and Yukina. They talked about all sorts of different things, some castle gossip and other topics. Though they had been arguing earlier, Sayo thought they seemed close.

They reached the designated camping spot around early evening after venturing off the road. It was a small area clear of trees that would serve well enough for one night.

Sayo followed the others lead in tying her horse to a tree, setting up camp with them. They couldn’t light a fire since the bandits were so close and would see the smoke, so they merely took out the rations supplied by the castle.

Yukina divvied up a portion to each member, starting with a set of sandwiches. Sayo ate it quickly; she was hungry after riding through the afternoon. It had some kind of meat inside, perhaps some of the rabbits she caught the day before? Whatever it was, it was well seasoned and delicious.

As they ate, the sun started to set in the distance. They discussed who would take which watch, with Sayo volunteering to take the first one. The other two didn’t object, so Sayo agreed to wake Lisa at the designated time.

She sat on one side of the clearing as they took out their bed rolls, watching and listening carefully for danger. Yukina and Lisa lied down right next to each other, with barely ten centimeters of space between them. Sayo kept her bow at the ready while she kept watch.

Her shift was only for the first part of the night, but she still might have trouble sleeping near these two knights. As close combatants they would have an advantage if they turned on her, so she had to be careful. They seemed trustworthy so far, but not everyone was as they seemed.

Next Chapter

[littlewhitetie]

No Matter

(Takes place after Collect Call, though you don’t really need to read it first--basically, Lance talks to Keith because he’s worried about Shiro, and Keith decides to come home.)

(Read both of them on AO3 here!) 

“Keith? What are you doing here?”

It’s not the warm welcome Keith had been hoping for when he returned to the Castle, but it’s not completely unexpected. He’d come back in the first place because of Lance’s increasing concern that something might be wrong with Shiro; he’s not acting like himself.

It’s okay. Keith can’t let it get to him. “Nice to see you too, Shiro.”

Shiro turns away from the screen to face him fully. He softens a little. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were with the Blade of Marmora.”

“I was gonna tell you I was picking Keith up, but I couldn’t find you,” Lance pipes up from beside him. “Kolivan thought it’d be a good idea for Keith to come back and spend some time with the team, ‘cause he was lonely.”

“Uh, yeah,” Keith says, giving an awkward shrug. “I mean, I wasn’t. He just thought I was,” he adds, quickly, noticing the skepticism written on Shiro’s face. Shiro may be colder these days, but he’s no less perceptive. Hopefully, he’ll just chalk it up to embarrassment on Keith’s part.

“So you asked Lance to come get you?”

“We’d been talking anyway,” Keith says, noticing Lance tense up beside him. “Just catching up.”

“I know, I know,” Lance says. “Chatting with Keith, weird, right? But I was bored, and everyone else was busy. …At least, it seemed like it. Not sure what you were up to,” he adds, pointedly.

Shiro doesn’t comment further. “Well, I’m sure everyone else will be happy to have you home.”

Lance wrinkles his brow. “You’re happy he’s home, too. Right, Shiro?”

“…Of course,” Shiro says, a half-tick too late to be genuine. It’s fine; it’s fine.

Keith hefts his meagre duffel bag. “I’m gonna go unpack.” Without having had to pack rations or emergency supplies, there’s barely anything in there, but still, it’s something to do. “Catch you at dinner.”

He leaves the bridge, but he waits a moment before heading to his room, hovering in the hallway outside the door. Lance had said Shiro was harsh and distant even when Keith wasn’t around, but something in him needs confirmation that it’s not just with him. He doesn’t want Shiro to be like this with the others, but at the same time…

“The Blade of Marmora doesn’t send their members away because they’re lonely,” Shiro says, as soon as Keith should be out of range. “Did you ask Keith to come back?”

“…Yeah,” Lance admits.

“Do you think I shouldn’t be leading Voltron?” His tone is sharp, accusatory.

“What? No! No, I was just—I was worried about you, okay?” Lance says. “I know you’re going through some stuff, and I just… thought it’d be nice for you to have Keith around.”

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“Well, after what you said to me, when we were stuck in the Patrulian System waiting for Allura and Lotor to get back—”

“I said I’m fine,” Shiro snaps. “I don’t need Keith’s help, and I don’t need yours.”

A pause, before Lance says, “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave you be.”

Keith takes that as his cue to leave, darting to his room with the quietest of footsteps.

He’s not surprised when, shortly after he’s spilled the few contents of his duffel bag onto the bed, there’s a knock at his door. “Come in.”

“Hey.” Lance makes himself at home, shoving Keith’s stuff aside and flopping down on his bed. “I’m sure Shiro really is happy to see you, man. He’s just… you know.”

Keith pushes his things over further and takes a seat beside Lance. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s right about the rest of us being glad you’re home. When I told the others, they were super psyched, and Shiro’s behaviour has been affecting them, too. It’ll be good to have you around. I know you’ll be able to get us closer to figuring out what’s wrong.”

“I’m not a detective,” Keith warns. He doesn’t want to give him false hope.

“That ridiculous evidence board you had in your shack back on Earth begs to differ,” Lance says. “And, hey, even if you aren’t? You’re still his best friend, and that goes a long way.”

Keith gives Lance a small smile.

“Oh, and maybe this’ll help,” Lance says. “There’s another thing I forgot to tell you about, apart from the weird behaviour and the headaches. I thought it was just a fluke at the time, but maybe it’s related. This one time when we were in Voltron, we were infected by this virus thing, so we had to ‘tap into the energy that binds us to Voltron’, or whatever. According to Allura, the bayards amplify each paladin’s life force, or something like that, so we used them, and it brought us to this sort of mind space inside of Voltron.

“The rest of us had no problem getting there, but Shiro didn’t show up at first. We had to really reach for him. We found him eventually, but it was like he wasn’t… all there. It was, like, static-y; the connection was super weak.

“We did our thing to get the virus out, but after the others had left, Shiro was shouting at me. It was hard to hear, like he was really far away, but he said, ‘Lance, listen to me’. It cut out before I could catch anything else. The weirdest part is that I asked him about it later, but he didn’t remember any of it.”

Keith lets Lance’s story sink in, trying to parse the information, piecing it together. “The bayards amplify life force,” he muses. “Has Shiro been using his bayard much?”

Lance considers. “Come to think of it, no. I’ve never actually seen him use it. He’s just been fighting with his arm.”

“The black bayard works fine, so it’s not that. …Shiro wasn’t able to connect with the Black Lion for a long time either, and it took her a long time to find him after he disappeared.” Too long. He suppresses a shudder at the thought of how close they’d come to losing him for good. “If the Lions and the bayards are both connected to our life force or quintessence or whatever, maybe—maybe there’s something going on with that.”

Lance shoots him an impressed look. “Huh. I hadn’t thought about that. You really are smarter than your haircut makes you look.”

Keith rolls his eyes at the jab and pushes himself off the bed. “I’m gonna go try to connect with Black. See if she can tell me anything about what’s going on.”

“Good idea. Let us know if you come up with anything.”

“Will do.”

…

The Black Lion responds to Keith right away, lighting up for him. He closes his eyes, clutching at the controls. The gears thrum with energy under his fingers. He’s missed this feeling more than he cares to admit.

“Please,” he begs. “I need you to tell me if something’s wrong with Shiro.”

Black doesn’t speak in words or pictures, or anything Keith can make concrete sense of. Instead, she feeds him vague sensations. A wave of unease rolls through him; in its wake, something cold and dark engulfs him. His chest feels hollowed out, empty. Something’s missing.

“I don’t understand,” Keith says. “I don’t know what you’re trying to—”

“Keith?”

Keith startles, his mind link with Black severed abruptly. Shiro’s face on the comm screen is nothing but angles and edges, not even a trace of softness lining his features.

“Keith, what are you doing?”

He stalls as he scrambles for an excuse. “I’m, uh…”

“Come out. We should talk.”

“…Okay.”

Shiro’s waiting for him in the hangar, arms crossed over his broad chest. “What are you doing with the Black Lion? You gave up leadership of Voltron when you left.”

“I’m not trying to take anything away from you,” Keith says, trying to keep his voice even. “I told you before, I don’t want to lead Voltron. I just… thought I’d see if Black could show me what you’ve all been up to. Thought it might be easier than having to ask you guys to explain it to me.”

“I thought you had Lance to tell you everything,” Shiro says, coolly.

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t feel like asking Lance.”

Shiro narrows his eyes. “Really? Because I saw you two were talking in your room before this.”

“Uh.” Keith isn’t sure how to respond to that. Keith is the worst liar, and Shiro can see through him every time.

“I don’t know what Lance has been telling you, but everything is fine,” Shiro says.

“He didn’t say anything was wrong,” Keith says. He didn’t; he’d just strongly, strongly suspected it. Half-truths are easier to pull off than lies. “He was just telling me about the time you guys used your bayards inside Voltron. It sounded cool. I was hoping Black could show me what he was talking about, but maybe—maybe you guys could show me?”

Shiro opens his mouth to speak, but he snaps it shut as he winces, pressing a hand to his temple. He squeezes his eyes closed. They’re sharper when he opens them again.

“You left, Keith,” Shiro scathes. “Lance is the pilot of the Red Lion now, and Allura is in the Blue Lion. You don’t have a place here anymore.”

It cuts deep, and despite himself, Keith’s eyes start to prickle. His instincts tell him to get out, fast; run and don’t look back. But no. He’s done running. He came back to help Shiro; he can’t leave him again.

Desperately, Keith grasps at anything in his mind to calm him down. Black reaches back. She doesn’t have Red’s warmth, but something peaceful and soothing wraps around him. Keith is still a part of the team. He’s important; he belongs here. Shiro misspoke. He’s not himself.

“I’m not going anywhere, Shiro,” Keith promises, even as his voice wavers. “I’m here for the team. I’m here for you. Even if you say things you don’t mean.”

He leaves the hangar in metered strides. When he reaches his room, he buries his head in his pillow and shuts his eyes, praying that when he wakes up, it’ll sting a little less.

…

Keith doesn’t quite fall asleep. He’s pulled out of the space between wakefulness and dreaming by a knock at his door.

He doesn’t want to debrief with Lance, not now. When the knocking persists, Keith asks, “Can it wait ‘til after dinner?”

“I’d rather talk now, if that’s alright.” The strained voice isn’t Lance’s.

Keith opens the door and lets Shiro in. Shiro’s head is bowed, his shoulders slumped, like he’s trying to take up less space.

Keith sits on the bed and gestures to the spot beside him. Shiro joins him, collapsing more than taking a seat. “I’m so sorry, Keith. I don’t—” His breath hitches. “I don’t know how I could say something like that. It’s completely inexcusable. I’m so, so sorry.”

Keith wants to say it’s fine, but he can’t. Keith’s not the only one Shiro’s snapped at, and if he said something like that to one of the others, it could cause some serious damage. …That and it hurt. “It’s not like I’ve never said something I didn’t mean,” Keith says.

“But I… I did, at the time,” Shiro whispers. “Something was telling me that was the right thing to say. It’s not true, of course it’s not true, and now I don’t know how I could possibly have believed it, but I just…” He shudders, shrinking further. “My head, it’s such a mess. I have all these conflicting ideas. It feels like I’m constantly fighting with myself. I-I don’t know what’s going on. Sometimes, it’s like I’m an entirely different person.”

Gently, Keith leans against him, knocking their shoulders together. “I’m not sure how I can help, but I’m here for you, no matter what. I’m sorry I didn’t come back earlier.”

“It’s not like I gave you much reason to,” Shiro says. “You shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” Shiro draws a stuttering breath. “I’ve hurt you, over and over. And I don’t—I don’t know how to stop.”

Keith rests a little more weight against him, solid and reassuring. “Why don’t you let us look into it? See if there’s anything we can fix.”

“Look into it how? Where would you even begin?” Shiro asks, quietly.

“Well, we could start by checking out that Voltron mind space Lance was talking about,” Keith says. “I wouldn’t be replacing anyone. It’d just be a one-time exercise, just to see. Lance said you were yelling something but don’t remember. Maybe it was important.”

Shiro’s lips form the beginning of a syllable, but he freezes before he can get the word out, jaw tensing up. He screws his eyes shut, clutching his head with both hands. A pained noise escapes through clenched teeth.

“Shiro?!”

Shiro pushes off the bed, staggering to his feet. “I have to go,” he gasps.

“You should lie down,” Keith says, gesturing back to the bed. He reaches for his shoulder, but Shiro wrenches it away. “Shiro, you don’t have to deal with this by yourself.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I came back for you. Let me help you. Please.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Shiro says, bracing himself against the wall. His metal fingers twitch. “The headaches, they… they usually get worse around you.”

The blood drains from Keith’s face. So many inadequate words form on the tip of his tongue—why, and I’m sorry, and please don’t go—but what he settles on is, “We don’t have to go inside Voltron.”

Not expecting that, Shiro blinks his eyes open, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t need to see it,” Keith says. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Slowly, Shiro’s shaky hand comes down from his temple to rest at his side. He takes an uneasy breath and sinks back down to the bed.

Cautiously, Keith sets his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. He doesn’t move away. When the strain in Shiro’s jaw has visibly lessened, he asks, “Are you okay?”

“My head hurts less,” Shiro says, “but I—I don’t…” He curls in on himself. “What’s wrong with me?”

Keith’s not sure, but he’s found a good starting point. The headaches definitely mean something, and so does this Voltron mind space. There’s more to this than trauma alone. “We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you rest a bit,” he says, coaxing Shiro into lying down. “I can leave.” It’s his room, but there are other places in the Castle he can go.

Shiro grabs Keith’s hand before he can get up. “I don’t want you to. I—I know I keep contradicting myself, and I’d completely understand if you did, but I don’t want you to go.” A glimmer of Shiro’s old self peeks through, heartfelt and earnest. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Keith misses him more with every moment they’re together.

Keith grabs his tablet and dims the lights, settling down at the edge of the bed. They’ve spent days like this before, when Shiro was recovering after they found him in the Galra fighter. Shiro settles against him in a comfortable position, in which Keith is reassured by each inhale and exhale, and Shiro has someone to ground him.

Keith messages Lance with what he’s learned, half sit-rep, half conversation. Halfway into trying to decipher Lance’s emojis, Shiro breaks the silence.

“Keith?” Shiro says, into the darkness. “I don’t—I don’t know what I might say or do in the future, but no matter what, don’t ever think I don’t care about you. You mean the world to me.”

Intrinsically, Keith knows this, but it’s always helpful to have the reminder. “I know.”

“Will you do something for me?” The gravity in Shiro’s tone is foreboding, and Keith doesn’t like it.

“I can try. What is it?”

“If I’m ever about to do something that could hurt someone, will you stop me?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“…No matter what it takes?”

There’s the kicker. “Shiro…”

“I’m sorry. I’m putting you in a difficult situation again,” Shiro says, “but I don’t know how much I can trust myself anymore, and I’m—I’m afraid of what could happen. If I put someone else in danger—”

“It’s going to be fine,” Keith says. “You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

“Keith—”

“But if it really comes down to it, I will,” Keith says. “You have my word.”

…

When it does come down to it, Keith goes back on his word.

“Shiro, please,” Keith begs. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the Black Lion,” Shiro snarls.

“I didn’t have a choice! The rest of the team was in danger, and—“ And the Black Lion had shut Shiro out again. She would only let Keith fly her.

Shiro comes closer, predatory, his hand humming with violet energy. There’s nowhere to hide in the Black Lion’s hangar. “You took her from me. You took Voltron from me.”

“Shiro, you’re not thinking straight,” Keith says. “Don’t do this. Don’t do something you’re gonna regret.”

Keith’s fast, but he still barely dodges in time when Shiro strikes. He’s sparred with Shiro, but this is nothing like sparring. This isn’t like anything Keith’s seen from him before. Shiro doesn’t usually aim to kill.

Keith tries to deflect his attacks, but his defence has always been mired in offensive strategies, and he can’t bring himself to actively use his blade against Shiro. It doesn’t matter, anyway; even with his Marmora training, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the Champion.

It’s only a matter of time. Shiro feints, and, when Keith’s side is exposed, he tears through Keith’s suit with the hand hot enough to melt steel. Keith screams as the Galra weapon burns his flesh, his vision going white.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith stutters, twisting away, bringing his arms up in a pathetic attempt to protect himself. “You don’t actually want to kill me. I know you don’t.”

The wrath on Shiro’s face flickers. Keith uses the moment to drag himself out of Shiro’s reach. Every movement is agony.

Shiro shakes his head and lunges forward, grabbing Keith by the throat and slamming him against the wall. Keith cries out as metal fingers sear his neck.

“Shiro,” he gasps. “Fight it.”

A war rages behind Shiro’s eyes, until he staggers, releasing his grip. Keith collapses in a heap to the floor.

Shiro falls to his knees, clutching his head. “K-Keith,” he gasps. “I’m not—I’m not in control. Please, you have to—”

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers. Even if he had the will, he’s too weak to pick himself up, let alone draw his blade. “But you can fight this. I know you can.”

“Keith,” Shiro pleads, voice cracking. “I-I—”

“It’s okay,” Keith assures him, before he passes out. “It’s gonna be okay.”

…

The team is waiting for Keith when he falls out of the healing pod, catching him in a tangle of arms. In a tight little circle around him are Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Coran, and… Lotor.

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith murmurs, swaying on his feet.

Lance holds an arm out, steadying him. “He, um…”

“He’s locked himself up in solitary confinement,” Lotor says, his voice icy smooth. “A bit dramatic, if you ask me.”

“No one asked you,” Lance grumbles. “But, yeah. He’s really upset about what happened.”

“You almost died, man,” Hunk says. “By the time Shiro got you to the med bay, you were, like, cold.”

“Shiro brought me there?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t doing too great, though. He said something about his head hurting before he collapsed,” Pidge says. “I think I heard him throwing up later, too, but that could’ve just been… you know. Haven’t heard anything about headaches since then, but he hasn’t exactly been talking to us a whole lot.”

Keith winces. “So I’m guessing you haven’t figured out what’s wrong with him yet.”

“We don’t have much more than what you told us,” Lance admits. “No point in trying to push the Voltron mind space thing if Black won’t let Shiro in, not to mention Shiro won’t leave his cell. We don’t really have enough information to even know where to look next.”

“Have you questioned Lotor?” Keith says, gesturing at the newly crowned Galra Emperor. “Shiro gave him his bayard and brought him to the Kral Zera.”

“We have considered that,” Allura says. “However, this all started before Shiro was ever in contact with Lotor.”

“To our knowledge,” Keith says.

“Yes, to your knowledge,” Lotor says, his tone and smirk dripping with condescension. Lance was right: Lotor is a prick of the highest order. “Rest assured, I haven’t done a thing to your Black Paladin. If I did have some way of controlling him, I’d never have ordered him to turn on you. All this guilt and self-punishment is highly counterproductive. There would be much easier ways to get rid of you, if I wanted to.”

“You’re not really helping yourself here,” Hunk says.

Allura sighs. “Lotor was with me all day yesterday. I neither saw nor sensed him do anything.”

“You see? Perhaps he simply supports me because he wishes for peace in the universe,” Lotor says, revoltingly smug. Keith rolls his eyes. Lance growls next to him.

Coran clears his throat. “Erm, anyway, we weren’t able to find anything physically wrong with Shiro, either. He allowed us to perform some tests on him, but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. It’s quite the quandary.”

“And he hasn’t said anything that could give us a clue?” Keith asks.

“We’ve tried talking to him, but he just tells us we can’t trust what he says and should leave him alone,” Lance says, sagging a little. The others don’t know how to push, not yet, and Shiro doesn’t know how to let them.

“Let me try,” Keith says. “I might be more likely to get some answers.”

“Uh, you also might be more likely to get murdered,” Hunk says. “I mean, he’s in a max security cell and we deactivated his arm, but Shiro seems to have a knack for escaping prisons and he gets kinda, y’know, rage-y around you. You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith insists. “If you have any better ideas, I’m open to them. But we’ve gotta do something. We can’t just leave him there.”

“Agreed,” Allura says. “We don’t seem to have any other options, and if he’s… if he’s himself, I’m sure he’ll want to see that you’re alright. Let us know if you need anything.”

“I will.”

As Keith walks down the hallway, someone follows, jogging to catch up. He spins around and waits for Lance.

“You sure about doing this right now?” Lance asks, walking alongside him. “Sure you don’t wanna wait? You’re barely standing, man.”

“Waiting’s not gonna help anything,” Keith says.

“Yeah, but, I mean… it might hurt, talking to him like this. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“It’s gonna suck, no way around it,” Keith says. “But we need a starting point. I can’t just stand by when there’s a chance we could figure something out.”

“…And you’re sure you don’t want backup?” It’s a request more than a question; Lance wants to be helpful.

“I’m definitely gonna need your help after, when we’ve got something to work with,” Keith assures him. “But it might be better if it’s just me for this. Like you said, it’s gonna hurt. I’m gonna press him for answers, which will probably trigger his headaches. It’s going to hurt him. I don’t want you to have to see that if you don’t have to, and he wouldn’t want you to either.” Not to mention it could get emotional, and they would both rather jump off a cliff than let anyone bear witness to that.

Lance nods. “Alright.” He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder. The gesture stings a bit, a reminder of what he’s lost with Shiro, but all the same, he’s grateful for the support. “Be careful, okay?”

“When am I ever not?”

Lance laughs.

“But really, I’ll be okay,” Keith says. “Honest.”

“Good. See you after, when you’ve got answers,” Lance says, and splits off.

After a quick stop by the training deck, Keith heads to the cell where Shiro waits.

The elevator ride lasts for ages, endless storeys down into the bowels of the ship. They only ever really use a few rooms, and it’s easy to forget just how huge the Castle is.

As he descends, a single round chamber comes into view below. There’s nothing around it, nothing but darkness. Despite himself, Keith feels a pang of sympathy for Lotor—he can barely fathom spending a few days in here, let alone months. No stars, no sky; there’s nothing here. How could Shiro willingly let himself be locked up here? How could he put himself back in a cell?

The doors open, leading to a large catwalk. His footsteps echo as he approaches the cylindrical chamber.

Shiro sharpens into focus as he gets closer. He’s watching him with wide eyes, his right arm hanging limply at his side. When he gets close enough, Shiro’s face crumples. “Keith…”

Keith’s chest aches at the sight of the grief etched into his features, the broken sound of his voice. He wants so badly to erase it all, but it’s hard from out here. The comfort they lend one another is predominantly tactile: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, a nudge to the side. Words have never been enough.

Keith hates the distance between them. Pressing his palm against the barrier, he sighs. “The hell are you doing in here?”

“What do you think I’m doing in here?” Shiro says, voice hitching. “I nearly killed you.”

“You didn’t,” Keith says.

“It—it was close. It was so close,” Shiro whispers. His eyes are wet.

“Yeah, well, nothing new there,” Keith says. “I come close to death on a pretty regular basis. Occupational hazard.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Shiro says.

“I’m fine, Shiro,” Keith assures him. “All healed up, good as new. Mostly just inconvenienced—it took me over half an hour to get here.” He gestures at the space around them. “Lotor was right; this is excessive.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Shiro says. “The bed flips up; there’s a commode, and a shower…”

“Can I come in? I want a tour.”

It startles a half-laugh out of Shiro. “Do you have a death wish?”

“No, but I kind of want to sit down,” Keith says. “My legs are tired, since I just got out of the healing pod—the one you got me to in time—and it took, like, a century to get here.”

Another almost-laugh. “Well, tough.”

“Get out of there, Shiro,” Keith sighs. “Seriously, the time adds up—you really wanna take up hours of the team’s day to bring you meals? And what happens if they’re in trouble? What happens when they need you?”

“Well, they’d be out of luck anyway. The Black Lion’s chosen you over me again,” Shiro says, more resigned than bitter. “You can’t possibly have forgotten.”

“There are other ways you can help,” Keith insists. “You know there are. You’re not helping anyone down here.”

Shiro grimaces—Keith knows how to get to him—but he says, “It’s still better than the alternative.”

“They turned your arm off,” Keith says.

“I could find a way. Especially if you don’t even try to stop me.” Shiro swallows. In a hoarse whisper, he asks, “Why didn’t you fight back? You promised.”

“No one else was in danger,” Keith says.

“So it’s okay if it’s you?”

“Tell me,” Keith says. “If our roles were reversed, would you have done what you’d asked me to do?”

Shiro falters.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know that,” Shiro says.

“I do. We’re gonna figure this out,” Keith promises. “We’re gonna need more to work off of, though, so I’m gonna need your help. …Do you trust me?”

“You know I do,” Shiro says.

Keith nods. He holds up the metal headpieces from the training deck, the ones they’d used to see into each other’s minds. “The headaches and the disconnect between you and the Black Lion started after you escaped from the Galra the second time.” Other things started around then, too, but he doesn’t mention those. “I know this might be painful, but I need you to show me everything you can remember between when you used your bayard in the Black Lion against Zarkon and when we found you.”

“I don’t remember a whole lot,” Shiro warns him. “And I don’t know how much we can trust my memory.”

“It’ll give us somewhere to start,” Keith says. “I need you to show me everything you can remember. Even if it’s incomplete. Even if you’re not sure it was real. Can you do that?”

Shiro hesitates, but eventually, he nods.

“You’re gonna need one of these,” Keith says, holding up the headpieces. “Come out and get it?”

“No,” Shiro says, firmly.

Keith shrugs; it was worth a shot. He pulls up the controls and makes a small opening at the bottom of the barrier, normally used for exchanging meal trays. He slides one of the devices to Shiro.

“What we’re doing, it—it might trigger a headache. Let me know if it gets too bad.”

“Sure,” Shiro says, though they both know he won’t.

“And don’t hold back,” Keith says, slipping his own over his temples. “I know it’s probably not gonna be pretty, but I need to see everything. Okay?”

“…Okay.”

Keith closes his eyes. “Ready when you are.” He reaches out through the mind link, and Shiro lets him in.

Keith only catches a glimpse inside Shiro’s head before his eyes fly back open and he instinctively tears the device off, gasping for air like a man seconds from drowning. Shiro’s mindscape is completely overwhelming, a cacophony of noise and pain. He bites out a curse. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but he hadn’t expected the pain to be quite so corporeal.

Shiro winces. “Sorry. Whatever’s causing the headaches doesn’t seem to like what we’re doing. You okay?” he asks, and Keith almost laughs. Shiro’s the one living with it; Keith just got a taste.

“I’m fine if you are. Let’s try again.”

He slips the device back on, and Shiro lets him in again. He braces himself as he enters, easing his way in this time instead of diving headfirst.

He’s more prepared for it this time, but it’s still startling. A harsh, screeching sound runs through everything, interspersed with loud, angry static. Things flicker in and out, half-formed pictures and so many blanks. Little shards of memories hurtle out of nowhere, loaded with enough information to hurt, but not enough to make sense of. Something chips away at his skull, sharp and throbbing. Worse than all that is a deep, all-encompassing emptiness. It chills him to his core, unsettling beyond words; it pulls him apart piece by piece. This. This was what Black had been trying to show him.

“Ready?” Shiro asks.

Keith scrambles to pull himself back together. He’s here for a reason. He’s here to gather information. He’s here to help Shiro. “Ready.”

Shiro draws one of his intact memories to the forefront of his consciousness, and it begins.

He’s in a tiny Galra fighter; he’s been in here for a small eternity. No food, no water. Oxygen is low; so is all hope of rescue. The ship is shutting down; so is his body. His last thoughts are of his team. He wishes he’d had a chance to say goodbye.

The memory is devastating, harrowing and real. It leaves Keith reeling, but he has to stay focused, has to concentrate on facts over feelings. He can’t let his emotions get in the way. Keith digs deeper, extracting a memory from a little further back.

Seven days before. There are explosions all around, the Galra fleet left a junkyard. Voltron flies away. They’re all he has, but they’re too fast for him. Desperate, he tries to chase them, but he can’t catch up in his tiny stolen fighter. They leave him behind, with nothing around him but perpetual darkness and stars too far to reach. He’s all alone.

Keith pushes down a swell of emotion before it can fully take form. He can’t stop; he has to keep going. He takes another step back in time. Then another, and another.

Aboard a Galra cruiser, he sneaks through the halls. He’s injured and exhausted, but he has to keep going. Taking down anything in his way, he continues until he reaches the hangar. He replaces a sentry stationed at one of the fighters and jumps in. The launch is aborted, but he can’t lose this chance. Throwing caution to the wind, he shoots everything and everyone around him. He has to find Voltron.

He’s at an outpost, somewhere cold. Two rebel fighters—part of the resistance—outfit him with a spacesuit and their shuttle. They wish him luck. He locates the Galra cruiser and comes in close. In a leap of faith, he sacrifices the shuttle and ejects himself into space. He sneaks past the automated defence system and lets the massive vessel swallow him up. He’ll never be free of these ships.

The rebels still don’t believe he’s on their side. He’s sick of this, so goddamn tired. He’s on the verge of passing out, but he pushes through; he needs to get to his team. Words don’t work; pleading never gets him anywhere. They don’t believe him until he has them at gunpoint.

He wakes hanging by his wrists. Captured again. His captors this time are rebel fighters. He tries to convince them he’s on their side, but they don’t listen, leaving him to starve until he tells them what they want to hear. Listening to radio chatter in the next room, the rebels intercept a transmission: Lotor needs assistance at Thayserix. The fleet is passing through the rebels’ quadrant; they log it on the klygarg. Another message comes through over the radio, an order to intercept Voltron. Voltron. He has to escape.

He stumbles as he makes his way across the frigid terrain, weak and dizzy and exhausted. The snow is inedible; he’s dehydrated through and through. When he sees water, he runs for it, pain in his leg be damned, and he drinks without a shred of dignity. Before he can get his fill, a giant creature emerges from the water and attacks. It tosses him around, leaving him even more bruised and battered; its carapace protects it from his attempts to fight back. It wraps long, vine-like appendages around him, curling around his neck and holding him down. Hovering over him, saliva drips from its fangs. It’s ready to feed. He croaks out a broken, “help,” and miraculously, someone comes to his rescue: a blaster fires, and the creature flees. They approach, but he passes out before they come into focus.

He collapses when he reaches the skeleton of a long dead beast. He needs to get warm. He takes refuge in the beast’s ribcage; though the massive bones are broken and scored deep, they’re enough to protect him from the biting wind. By some stroke of luck, there’s wood here, enough to build a fire. After he’s staved off hypothermia, he unwraps the makeshift bandage around his leg. The wound is still bleeding profusely. He’s already lost too much blood; he can’t afford to lose more. He lights up his hand to cauterize his wound. His agonized scream echoes in the chamber of bones.

Keith feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want to see or hear any more, doesn’t think he can take any more of this. But he needs to go further, needs more information. He has to do this. For Shiro. Steeling himself, he pries further.

He wakes with a lurch. He’s upside down, blood rushing to his head, trapped in the wreckage of the pod. It teeters at the edge of a cliff; he has to get out immediately. A blaster slides within reach. He shoots at the machinery trapping him, damaging his leg further but freeing him. He leaps out as the pod falls, and he just barely manages to catch the very edge of the cliff with his fingers. He pulls himself up, and he’s tired—so tired—but he can’t stay here. He ties up his leg and drags himself through the snow, one step at a time.

He staggers through the hall of the Galra ship. There are only a handful of sentries, and even in his weakened state, he’s able to take them out with relative ease. He makes it to the pod bay without much resistance, and takes the closest one. He flies toward an elongated planet-like structure that takes the shape of a giant ice shard. It’s got a ring, a thick halo of ice chunks. The ship he escaped from—a standard battle cruiser, from the looks of it—shoots him down. He burns through the atmosphere and crashes into the ground.

It’s hard to go any further; it’s like swimming against a tidal wave. Something is trying to keep Keith from getting past. The static and screeching gets louder, the pain white hot. He fights through it.

He wakes under purple lights, metal beneath him, surgical tools overhead. Everything is hazy. His arm, it feels wrong. At the controls… Ulaz? No. A similarly pale Galra with pointed ears and a sagittal crest, wearing a mask that obscures his nose and mouth; he fades like a phantom. Pushing himself off the metal table, he tries to stand, but his legs give out on him. He falls flat on his face, unable to even throw his arms out to break the fall. He staggers into the empty hallway; there’s no one around to stop him from leaving. When he looks back, there are three masked Galra surrounding the table, standing around—himself? A corpse, maybe. It doesn’t move a muscle, eyes completely vacant.

The safeguard in Shiro’s head is screaming. It hurts, but Keith is no stranger to pain, and, clearly, neither is Shiro. He can’t stop now. He can endure this. Just a little further. One more step, and…

A fully masked Galra shines a bright light in his eyes. “Subject Y0XT39 has normal response to optic stimuli. Approved for use in Operation Kuron.”

A group of Galra stand around him, all their features obscured by identical masks and armour. He’s in a tank; pink liquid rises until he’s submerged. From behind glass, through the liquid, he can hear a voice. “Operation Kuron stage one successful. Begin stage two.”

…

When Keith comes to, he’s on the floor, cheek pressing into cold metal. He must have passed out. Gingerly, he pushes himself up. The pain has dulled, and when he slides the headset off, the headache goes away completely.

He swipes at his cheeks, finding they’re wet. “Shiro,” he gasps.

Behind the barrier, Shiro is curled in on himself, shoulders shaking.

“Shiro?” he asks, cautiously. “…How’s your head?”

“I-it’s—it’s okay now,” Shiro whispers.

“Okay,” Keith says. “If it gets worse, I can leave, but I’m coming in, alright?”

After a moment’s pause, Shiro gives the slightest nod.

Keith deactivates the barrier and sits down beside him on the bed. Keith wraps his arms around him, clinging fiercely. Shiro shudders, sinking into his hold.

Keith doesn’t know what he can possibly say. There’s nothing he can say to undo what Shiro had to endure. He can’t change that, so what can he do for him now?

“Let’s get you out of this cell,” Keith says, gently. “There are safety precautions we can take. You can warn us if your head starts to hurt. We can deactivate your arm, revoke access, whatever you need. But I’ll feel better if you’re up there with us. We all will.” He doesn’t want him to be here, all alone. He doesn’t want him to spend another second trapped behind glass.

“…Okay,” Shiro whispers at last, though he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away from the safety of Keith’s arms. “Did you… did you find anything that could be useful?”

“Yeah. I did,” Keith says. “It helped a lot. Thanks for showing me. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I—I’d forgotten some of it, but I’m sorry for not telling you other parts earlier. I should’ve—“

“Ten to one, if I’d been in your shoes, I wouldn’t have said anything either. You don’t need to apologize, alright? This sucks, this whole situation sucks, but we’re gonna figure this out. We’ve got some leads now, thanks to you. I’ve got some ideas for where we can go from here.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah,” Keith nods. He knows Shiro won’t want to know the details in case he’s compromised, but he’s got a solid starting point.

They’ll track down the rebels on that ice planet and look through the klygarg, to see what ships were nearby at that time. Keith has a good eye for detail, and he’s committed what he saw to memory: the layout of the ship he escaped from, the sentry models onboard and the weapons they were carrying, the design of the pods in the bay, the armour the Galra in the laboratory were wearing. He’ll cross-reference with the Blade’s intel to try to narrow down which of the ships that passed through he could have been on. They’ll track down that ship, and find out what they were doing. They’ll contact their allies and scour the databases for every scrap of information they can find on subject Y0XT39 or Operation Kuron.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Keith vows. “We’ll figure out what’s going on, and we’ll find a solution from there.” Knowledge or death; nothing will stop him.

“What if it’s something that can’t be fixed?” Shiro asks, in a bare whisper.

“Then we’ll learn to deal with it,” Keith says, simply.

With a slow exhale, Shiro’s head comes to rest against Keith’s shoulder. “Thanks, Keith.”

Keith pulls Shiro in even closer, as if holding him tightly enough could keep him from falling apart, could dissipate the emptiness in him and make him whole again.

“I’m here for you, no matter what. We’re going to get through this.”

[tarasstorybook]

Bad Ideas Part 5

Adonis was sitting through yet another dinner at Lilith's castle when he sensed something off with Tarq, excusing himself rather quickly. Finding his lover was rather easy, though where he found him wasn't exactly what he was expecting.

"You're absolutely insane." Amabiel claims. "You can't do that to people, it's unjust."

"What's unjust is letting an opportunity like this slip through my hands."

"Tarq aren't you going to say anything?" Gaviel looks to his brother, nudging him with his shoulder. Tarq doesn't react to his brother's touch, just continues staring off into the distance as his mind races through possibilities of what would happen. He stopped listening a long time ago.

Adonis snuck through the hideout invisibly, quietly listening in on the conversations he passed until he heard something about three travelers they'd jumped in the forest. Something about selling a magic user for profit. "Tarq." Adonis growled to himself, anger rising in his chest as he followed his scent, pausing just outside the doorway when he heard someone other than the three speaking.

"It seems like he has nothing to say. That's fine, the less back talk the better, go ahead and take those two away." He gestures to Amy and Gav.

"Don't touch me." Amy threatens, already prepared to kick them if need be.

Adonis silently walked up behind the man, pulling a dagger from thin air as the blonde spoke.

"Tarq don't just sit there react or something!" Amy screams trying to get her brother's attention, kicking at the person trying to grab her.

"He seems to have a bit of a glazed look over his eyes." The blond waves a hand in front of Tarq's face. "I don't think-" He was cut off by a sudden gasp of pain, freezing where he stood as Adonis materialized behind him driving a dagger into his back.

"I'm sorry were you saying something..." Adonis grinned wickedly, his purple eyes solid gold in anger.

"Adonis, thank god you're here." Gaviel can't help but smile in relief.

"A second longer and Gav and I might have wound up dead." Amy puts in. "I think Tarq slipped into a coping mechanism and fell inside his own head."

"Yes well," Adonis twisted the blade then removed it, the man dropping to the ground dead. "I have a feeling someone did something stupid to initiate this." He looked pointedly at Amy, his eyes still glowing gold as the rest of his glamour threatened to drop.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Amy shifts at his look, avoiding his gaze.

"Tarq come back to us." Gaviel shoves him over with his foot.

Tarq blinks a few times before doing the same thing. "Why would you do that?"

"You slipped from reality for a minute." Gav answers. "Look who's here." He gestures to Adonis.

"Hello erastís." Adonis smiled, his eyes finally slipping back to purple. "It seems I'm your rescuer today."

Tarq's face blushes slightly at the nickname. "How did you know we were in trouble? We must be miles away from any nearby town." He manages to get himself sitting upright again.

"... Tarq, I'm a demon..." Adonis looked at him incredulously.

"Right, I forgot."

"Not that this little reunion isn't cute and all but could we jump to the part where the captives are let go?" Amy buts in. "Out of the three of us Tarq is the only one with iron."

"Ah right." Adonis snapped his fingers and they were all released. "Now if you excuse me, I have some more vengeance to exact."

"Thank gods." Tarq murmurs, rubbing his wrists.

"I think you lost your chance." Gav points at the people running off in different directions.

Adonis laughed darkly. "Oh don't worry, they'll get what's coming to them eventually." He reached out, grabbing something unseen to the others before showing he was holding a glowing red orb. "As for you my friend... well let's just say you're in deep shit."

"Adonis." Tarq gives the red orb a glance before wrapping his arms around him. "Thank you." He mumbles into his shoulder.

"You're welcome love, you should know by now that I'll do my best to protect you. And your siblings." Adonis planted a kiss on his forehead before throwing the orb towards the floor where it went right through. "Incoming!"

"Aaww, didn't know you cared for all three of us." Amy smiles. "Where'd that go?"

"Hell." Adonis responded nonchalantly.

"Oh, well then."

"Can we get going?" Gav breaks in. "I'd like to leave this place before they decide to come back."

"I dunno, our brother seems fairly attached to Adonis at the moment."

Adonis chuckled. "Even if they did come back I'd just send them the way of their friend."

Tarq blushes at Amy's comment and lets go of Adonis. "Right we should get going anyway, hopefully we aren't too far off our path to get to town. But maybe we should take the road and not go through thieves forest."

"Okay I get it bad idea, we’ll take the road." Amy huffs.

"I'll come with you, just in case." Adonis nodded. "It's this way out."

"Sweet, travel buddy." Amy gladly follows him out.

"It wouldn't hurt." Tarq shrugs.

"I suppose not." Gav muses.

"So how have you been Adonis?" Amy asks, trying to make light of the situation.

"Good, I was actually in the middle of dinner at Lilith's when I came. She understands however, you seem to get yourselves into trouble constantly."

"That happens a lot now." Gaviel says.

"Unfortunately we're used to it but it still takes its toll." Tarq tries to flex his magic but it's faint, he didn't know how long he was out for but he still felt tired.

"You need rest dear, it seems you extended yourself too far. You should be more careful, that can have permanent consequences if you do it too much." Adonis looked concerned. "How did you even manage to run yourself out?"

"You'd do anything to protect your own right? Their wellbeing came before my own, I guess I let it take more from me than I meant to. It got to the point where the mark of strength came to life, that eventually ran out too and I just collapsed from pure exhaustion."

"You must not know very good combat magic then. I thought the point was to take out your opponent as quickly as possible and get out without draining yourself."

"I'm a healer not a fighter, I don't know much. Something I know I should fix, I wasn't expecting twenty thieves though. My magic doesn't drain that easily when I have to fight."

"That's not an exaggeration, we were greatly outnumbered." Amy adds on.

Adonis shrugged. "I know some people who might be able to help you. It wouldn't be easy though and they live with a dragon. I'd have to convince them too."

"That's okay." Tarq smiles slightly. "I'm not the only one in our family with magic."

"Really? What do they do?"

"Are you talking about Torquaret?"

"Yes Amy that's who I'm talking about. He's more of the fighter than I am. I'm more of a healer really but I don't think it'd hurt to ask him for help."

"So that's where we were going, I thought it was going to be a supply stock thing." Gav says impressed how Tarq was able to keep quiet about that.

"Who's Torquaret?" Adonis asked.

"He's our older cousin, he has a younger brother Guabarel." Amy explains.

"We used to visit them when we were kids, Torquaret seemed excited to hear that Tarq had magic." Gav adds on.

"Unlike him though I followed the path of healer, and adventurer I guess. He learned how to fight and teaches those that want to learn combat magic." Tarq finishes.

Adonis nodded. "I see, so I agree going to see him would be a wise decision."

"He'll be disappointed to hear Tarq's magic ran out and drained him."

"He'll also be disappointed to hear that you nearly got us killed Amy." Tarq glares at her.

"Guys please." Gav pleads with them. "We just got out of nearly being killed. God knows how long we've been out but it looks like the sun is going down."

"Ah shit, thieves ruin everything." Amy complains.

"Any chance he'll freak out on account of me being a demon? I usually have that effect on people." Adonis questioned.

"No, his brother is part angel so I don't think he'll be too surprised." Amy says.

"Oh look the road." Gav points out. "Guess we're at the edge now."

"Yup." Tarq nods. "I don't know about Torquaret, it's more of we'll see really."

"Then I guess we'll see."

"Yeah, in the meantime we should make camp. Rest up after a stressful day." Amy suggests, already getting started in setting up a campfire.

Adonis shrugged. "Sure. Where are your tents?"

"We're more of star gazers." Amy shrugs.

"It is kind of peaceful at night, the stars are nice to look at." Tarq admits, he was helping Gav set up other things.

".... oh." Adonis chuckled. "Guess I've never really slept outside so I wouldn't know."

"In case of emergency Tarq would help out with that, but since his magic is still recovering we won't be asking him to push it tonight." Gav pauses, rubbing the back of his head.

"You okay?" Tarq looks at him concerned.

"Yeah I'm good, I think we all got hit in the back of the head."

"And then some." Amy grumbles.

"I'm sure you did, and don't worry about me, I'll probably just be up a tree." Adonis chuckled. "I don't have to sleep if I don't want to."

Amy laughs a little at that. "Like a cat."

"Amy." Both of them scold her.

"....." Adonis looked less than impressed at her comment. "You know, you're the one who got them into this mess in the first place. And try to be more original next time, we get called that all the time."

Amy just shrugs and starts making dinner for the three of them. "We got out alive."

"You want help Amy?" Gaviel offers.

"That would be nice thank you."

Tarq sat with his back against a tree and tried to get his magic to shine brighter. His hand glowed but the light was still faint, Tarq sighs and sits back, resting his head against the tree.

"I'm sure it'll come back soon, just give it time." Adonis did his best to reassure him.

"Remember what mom said." Gav reminds him.

"If you've extended your magic give it a day and it'll come back." Tarq repeats. "I know."

"Just eat something and then rest, that's what mom always said." Amy recounts their mother's teachings. "Which is almost ready, Adonis you want some?"

"No thank you, I've already eaten."

"Okay."

"Someone remembered mom's hospitality teachings." Gaviel teases her.

"Shut up Gav."

Tarq chuckles at the two of them go back and forth, it wouldn't be an adventure if they actually went a day without doing so.

Adonis sighed. "Your siblings have a very interesting relationship."

"Pretty sure it's love hate." Tarq says around bites of food. "They've been like that since we were four."

[notesonnewyork]

Absurd New York #91: Quotes by Trump Edition

In a world of slogans and soundbites, a brand jingle here and a sales pitch there, with oxymoronic pairings and definitions-be-damned, where search engine optimization is more sought after than content, and “liking” what’s written or uttered more lauded than actually comprehending it, are we becoming more anesthetized to words? Is the overload of all these things making us lazy and less willing to be critical of what passes before us? If so, isn’t that frightening? For all those who have the ability, and all those who still value language, the answer is emphatically YES.

In perhaps the most poignant part of Roger Waters’ current Us + Them Tour, Waters forces the issue. Near the end of Pink Floyd’s “Pigs (Three Different Ones),” the show’s massive LED screens flash a few of the things Donald Trump has said around the arena. Whether you care about Trump or not, whether you remember what he’s composed for public consumption or not, no matter: You’re challenged to think. You’re tasked with understanding his words and considering what they mean. Any maybe, just maybe, being detached from the image he cultivates for a moment you’ll be able to take a true measure of the man. Let’s give it a try.

----

“Im not schmuck. Even if the world goes to hell in a handbasket, I won’t lose a penny.” 

On March 12, 1989, a piece by Glenn Plaskin appeared in the Chicago Tribune. The headline was “Trump: The People’s Billionaire.” Under the subheading “Tiny Trumps,” Plaskin wrote that “For R and R, in between tending to the little Trumps...Daddy raids corporations.” Also, having convinced banks and other investors to lend him money on the strength of his name alone--they gave him “instant credit” lines because they thought he had “unlimited collateral”--Trump went about building the Taj Mahal in Atlantic City for $725 million and purchasing the Plaza Hotel on Central Park South for $400 million. In reality, though, he only spent $50 million of his own money to buy the Taj. The remaining $675 million was “financed with uncollateralized junk bonds.” As far as the Plaza went, most of that $400 million was “borrowed.” 

As Trump “reflected” during the interview, Plaskin recorded his words: “I’m not a schmuck. Even if the world goes to hell in a handbasket, I won’t lose a penny.” And he wouldn’t. When Trump bankrupted the Taj in 1991 and the Plaza too in 1992, he wasn’t left holding the worthless bonds or losing income from missed interest payments, his investors were. As far as the economic losses that got passed down to his employees, well, they weren’t his problem either. None of them did any damage to his bank account. 

“A nation without borders is not a nation at all. We must have a wall.”

Trump first tweeted it out on July 14, 2015, and then again on July 28th as an attack on Jeb Bush, one of his then opponents in the Republican presidential primary. He’d double down with it again on September 17, 2016, only this time he including the hashtag “#AmericaFirst.” After being elected president, Trump decided to make his Twitter decree a cornerstone of national security policy. “Mexico will pay for the wall!” he tweeted. Of course it will, that’s why he’s spent the past year and a half trying to cajole Congress into giving him the funds. 

So aside from sounding like Pink, the megalomaniac protagonist of Pink Floyd’s album “The Wall”--who, coincidentally, also wanted to barricade himself off from the rest of the world--what gives with Trump’s definition of what makes a nation? If you peruse the nearest map, you’d notice plenty of boundaries drawn around land masses across the globe. Don’t those markings designate countries? Is Canada, for example, somehow less a country because it hasn’t defined its sovereignty with a magnificent wall on the United States’ northern border?

“It’s freezing and snowing in New York--we need global warming!”

Although Trump has offered variations on this theme over the years, the original appeared via Twitter on November 7, 2012. Back then, the high temperature in New York was 41 degrees fahrenheit and the low 34. Sounds like just another pre-winter day in the Northeast, right? 

Well, according to the folks at Custom Weather, not exactly. From 1985 to 2015, the average November day posted a high of 54 and a low of 41. Now, granted that particular November 7th was colder than normal, but it’s not as if the recorded high were zero and the low -15 as Trump would have had Twitter believe. Besides, his conclusion was wrong anyway. Given that November 7th’s readings were outliers, perhaps they were actually the predicted effect of a climate in flux. If so, he needn’t have clamored for global warming at all. It had already arrived. 

“I was down there and I watched our police and our fireman, down on 7-Eleven, down at the World Trade Center, right after it came down.”

On April 18, 2016, that’s what Trump said at a presidential campaign stop at the First Niagara Center--today’s KeyBank Center--in Buffalo, NY. Yes, he inexplicably confused 9-11 with the Japanese-based chain store, sure, and didn’t bother to correct his mistake, but the core of what he proclaimed wasn’t true anyway. 

On the morning of September 11, 2001, Trump actually called into the live broadcast on WWOR-TV Fox 5 Local News. (Although the station’s antenna was destroyed with the Twin Towers, its signal was being transmitted by other conduits.) He told anchors Alan Marcus and Brenda Blackmon that he saw the tragedy unfold from his apartment in Trump Tower at 5th Avenue and 56th Street--several miles from ground zero. Moreover, when Marcus asked “Did you have any damage, or did you--what’s happened down there?” he replied:

“40 Wall Street [a 71-story building he owned under the guise of “40 Wall Street, LLC”] actually was the second tallest building in downtown Manhattan, and it was actually, before the World Trade Center, was the tallest--and then, when they built the World Trade Center, it became known as the second tallest. And now it’s the tallest.”

Despite the horrific circumstances, he apparently couldn't resist promoting his interests. He even threw in an extra hyperbole. According to city property records, the 66-story building at 70 Pine Street--formerly known as the American International Building and the Cities Service Building--was actually 25 feet higher than his 40 Wall Street at the time. And still is. 

Now 40 Wall Street didn’t suffer any damage in the terrorist attack, but the Trump Organization still applied for a $150,000 grant being offered to help small businesses in the aftermath. Known as World Trade Center Business Recovery Grants, they were given to businesses in Lower Manhattan with less than $8 million in annual revenue. However, in spite of generating $16.8 million that year, 40 Wall Street was still awarded a grant by the Empire State Development Corporation. 

“You know, it really doesn’t matter what the media write as long as you’ve got a young, and beautiful piece of ass.”

While researching a story printed in the May 1991 edition of Esquire called “Donald Trump Gets Small,” Harry Hurt III was expertly entertained by the man himself. Trump took him on a VIP tour of the Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City and that apparently had the desired effect. When Hurt began his story, he scribed, “Given the kind of year he has had, Donald J. Trump might be forgiven a little ego candy.” What? Even then, the media seemed unfazed by what was happening under his shiny veneer. 

At the time, the very casino Trump was showing to Hurt, the Taj Mahal, was going bankrupt. The Trump Castle, another Atlantic City casino, was destined for a similar fate until his father forestalled the inevitable. In December 1990, Fred Trump bought $3 million worth of chips at the Castle and left them in the casino cage so his son could use them pay off a bond payment on the property. Meanwhile, as Ivana Trump argued for more money from their divorce settlement, Marla Maples, the woman with whom Trump committed adultery while married to Ivana, was “pressuring him to propose in the wake of his highly publicized dalliance with model Rowanne Brewer.” But all that was seemingly of little consequence. Hurt remarked:

“One might think that the chill breath of potential collapse and enough tacky publicity to shame Pia Zadora might have taken the swagger out of Donald J. Trump. One would be wrong.

‘You know,’ [Trump] muses philosophically as we return to our ringside seats [in the Taj Mahal for the Ray Mercer-Frabcesci Damiani heavyweight fight], “it really doesn’t matter what they write as long as you’ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass.

‘But,’ he adds after a pause that suggests this is a distinction with a difference, ‘she’s got to be young and beautiful.’”

In other words, he’d never be held accountable by the media, by investors, by anyone if he could razzle-dazzle them with the women he attracted. Case and point: Hurt’s profile reads like a breezy apology for the economic havoc Trump was soon to unleash on Atlantic City. Something like “Give him a break, he’s too nice a guy to punish. After all, he gave me ringside seats, a few fun girls, and a comped penthouse suite for the night.”

-----

So how did you do? Did you measure the man by his words, or were you dumbfounded again by the show?

-----

(With Roger Waters and company at Barclays Center. Photos by Riff Chorusriff. Reading the Trump quotes pulled and projected under the watchful eye of Waters’ creative director/set designer Sean Evans. You can view more of Evans’ ingenuity on Instagram @deadskinboy. September 12, 2017.)

[pcktsprgrl]

Coronation Of A Flame part 4 NSFW

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Hana X MC

Authors Notes: Here’s chapter four of Coronation Of A Flame. Enjoy ~PSG

Possible trigger warning: Ok so there’s fighting/training in this chapter. Drake will be ‘attacking’ the MC and showing her counter attacks. I’m not sure if this counts as a trigger or not? But its pretty much how training works.

Also there's an NSFW scene so if that bothers you..

Rating: mature for NSFW

Publish Date: 2/9/18

Chap 4: A Bit of Bad News

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

"I think I've found something!" Hana says excitedly startling all of you and you drop your book. "Please tell me its more then the queen loved a girl?" Drake says with a sigh and Hana blushes. You scowl then turn back to Hana your features softening. "Apparently, Dominic Hunter grew up in the castle with Kenna. He never knew his heritage or about his powers until.." Hana pauses skimming down a few paragraphs. "Until Kenna and the nobles were attacked while attempting to make peace between the kingdoms." she smiles proudly. You start to speak but get interrupted as Hana continues. "Ooo so he not only created fire, but he could also withstand it, and put fires out by drawing the flames into his body." "And the dragons? Don't forget the dragons!" Maxwell says excitedly. "You're not cruising past that anytime soon are you?" you say with a fond glance at Maxwell. He just grins sheepishly at you. After a few more hours of reading you stretch and check the clock. "I think I'm going to the gym awhile. Drake?" "Thought you'd never ask!" Drake says with a grin. You smile and kiss the top of Hana's head as you walk out. ~~~~~~~ "AGAIN!" Drake's voice bellows from a few feet behind you. You blink up at the fluorescent lights and roll over standing gingerly. Drake is scowling at you. You furrow your eyebrows and charge at Drake. He deftly dodges your attack sweeping your legs from under you. "umph" you land hard on the mats knocking the wind from your lungs. Tears of frustration building behind your eyes. Your fists slam into the mat, you stand brows furrowed. You lunge at Drake padded knife in hand he dodges then attempts another leg sweep. You jump over his leg and bring the knife down as you land. he rolls quickly backwards to avoid the thrust of your knife. Jumping up behind you just in time to catch your elbow in his chest and you grasping his arm and throwing him over your hip. He hits the mat with a grunt and taps your right knee to signal his submission from the arm bar you currently have him in. You both lay there panting. "Nice one, Abel." Drake says as he stands and offers you his hand. "I have a good teacher." you smile at him. He squeezes your shoulder gently. "More tomorrow?" he asks. "If you're not afraid of getting your butt kicked." you smirk. "In your dreams, Abel." he smirks. You both look around and catch wary looks from the other training guards. Drake leads you out of the training area. "They're never going to trust me." you say with a sigh once you know you're far enough away from the training room. "Their loss." Drake says then clears his throat. "We should think of finding a different place to train though." he adds thoughtfully.

"You're right. It'd be a lot better!" He smiles at you. "Get some rest." he says "and hit the showers." he adds scrunching up his nose before turning to walk away. You scoff at him but spin to head to your room. ~~~~ You look out onto the lake that glistens like diamonds in the moonlight your mind running with a thousand thoughts as your body aches. You stare at the small fire you built and try to bend it to your will but sigh in exasperation releasing the breath you had been holding and dropping your head. "I thought I might find you here," a soft voice comes from behind you. You smile softly in recognition. "Hmm" you murmur softly barely glancing back as Hana settles behind you placing her hands gently on your shoulders. "How was today?" she asks in a whisper slowly starting to massage your shoulders as your gaze lifts to the heavens. "Tiring" you respond with a sigh adding "the royal guards in training either don't trust me or look on me with disgust . Drake and I talked about training elsewhere." you're silent and thoughtful. Hana begins slowly massaging down your shoulder blades and you groan in appreciation. "Maybe that's a good idea." she muses thoughtfully. Your only response is another groan as her fingers kneed and work their way down your back. "Between the attempted assassination and my new powers or, whatever." you say with an exasperated sigh, "I just can't seem to relax." "I think I know just the thing to get your mind off this." Hana says in delight. "Really?" you perk up. "What did you have in mind?" you try playfully while turning to her with a smirk. She's wearing jeans and one of your oversized hoodies and my god you have never seen her look so beautiful. Your smirk falls as you fix your gaze back on the lake. Hana laughs lightly then her fingers stop their movements and run lightly down your back, "I was thinking of something else but for now.." she leans closer wrapping her arms around you and you can feel her warm breath on your neck, "lets try it your way." she whispers and kisses your neck and you shudder. She sits behind you and pulls you backwards gently. You lean your head on her shoulder looking deep in her eyes before kissing her first gently then a bit more urgently. Her hands lay on your stomach as she deepens the kiss and you moan lowly. Slowly her hands work under your shirt and her fingers dip slowly under your sweatpants. Your hand flies up and tangles in her hair as your tongues dance together. You can feel the heat from her pressed into you as her legs rest on either side of yours. Her hand slips further down your sweats and you raise your hips at her. Your other hand sliding up her arm. She breaks the kiss and your groan at the loss. "H-hana." you gasp out. She runs her lips over your neck as her fingers make their way to your center. You push your hips forward again. She smirks and bites your pulse point as one of her fingers enters you. You cry out gripping at the back of her neck. She bites where your neck and shoulder meet. Your free hand grabs the turf and rips handfuls of grass out. Moments later another finger enters you moving and wiggling inside of you. "HANA! G- DON'T STOP!!" her movements match your own frantic thrusts and your body begins to shake. She slows her movements and holds you while your breath comes ragged. She kisses your neck softly. "I love you." she whispers in your ear and you almost cry. You turn in her arms and stare at her for a moment in awe. Tracing the features of her face with your fingertips. You lean in and slowly start kissing her pressing your body against hers until you're laying on top of her. You lean up on your elbows regarding her with the utmost reverence. ~~~~ The next morning you're woke up by the sun in your eyes and you groan rolling over to see Hana still fast asleep beside you. Slowly you look around your room noticing the chaos you two left in your wake. You smile then frown slightly noticing an envelope under your door. You slide out of bed retrieving it. "Riley, Meet me in the archives, at the library. Very interesting news! Maxwell" You sigh, running a hand over your face. (Everything has been very interesting since the night of the ball.) You get dressed in a modest baby blue dress, jot a quick note to Hana the quietly slip out your door. Entering the library you search for Maxwell who is hunched over a stack of books. "Hey." you start to say something else when suddenly you are grabbed from behind and put in a choke hold. You struggle but to no avail. "Always be alert." Drake warns. You scowl and slap his elbow to indicate you give up. He releases you and you turn and scowl at him. He starts to say something but takes in your outfit. Whistling "Well guess you didn't ditch all your dresses for sweats."

Your face softens and you chuckle. "After nearly giving Bertrand heart attacks by looking so undignified" you say with an eye roll "I thought I'd dress a bit less American" you use air quotes and smirk. Drake laughs "This won't work in the gym, Abel." "Psssh, the way you fight?" you laugh and push him playfully. Bertrand clears his throat and you both look at him sheepishly.

“Oh uh Hi B-Bertrand..” you stammer. “I didn't realize you were back.”

“Obviously not..” Bertrand scowls. "So this is everything we could find on Fydoria and their people." you stare blankly at all the books. "Including what Olivia could find in Lythikos." you blink. "Olivia helped?" "Of course." Maxwell says incredulously. "Why wouldn't she?" "Well she was pretty wigged the night of the ball." you state plainly only to hear a heel tapping on the marble. You jump at the sound. "Tsk tsk." Olivia clicks her tongue. "I do not get wigged." Olivia says as she crosses her legs at the ankles then studies you intently.

“Anyway..” Maxwell says breaking through the silence as you and Olivia glare at each other.

“Apparently, Dom or Dominic was raised as a servant but was actually of Noble blood. Something he didn't find out until much later..” You brighten and start to speak but are cut off as Olivia speaks. “But there were many fire people according to legend, so that doesn't mean you are of noble decent.” she scoffs at you.

You glance down at the book in your hands as Hana walks sheepishly to the table sinking quietly into a chair beside you. Olivia appraises her slightly, eye brow raised as she sips her tea but says nothing as Hana takes a book from the table and begins reading. You groan and let your head fall slowly forward. It makes a soft thud against the open book currently in front of you. Hana stands behind you silently rubbing your neck. You groan again. Almost entirely lost in Hana's touch. "Ah-ha!" Maxwell yells in triumph. You jump from your seat nearly knocking heads with Hana. "I found this ancient map. It looks like it just matches up with our current map." you rush over excitedly as Maxwell's face pales.

You stare over his soldier. "Oh..." your face falls. "Guess we're going back to Fydelia." Drake shrugs with his hands in his pockets.

[aithuzah]

The Right Thing

[ AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | ? ]

Aris...arásae? Merlin’s feet guided his way through the castle back to his room by muscle memory alone, his mind focused on recalling every syllable Morgause had spoken. Middangeard, suna to helpe, hider...hider est fund? Hider eft funda...

He wanted to reach his magic book as soon as possible. He thought he knew what most of it meant, but he wanted to check his memory against the text, and see if Gaius had any other books that might refer to a similar spell.

If he was right, Arthur really had spoken to his mother’s spirit. But he wanted to be certain of it before he told him. He didn’t want to give him hope just to ruin the memory of that moment again.

He’d shut the door to the physician’s chambers, dropped his satchel on a table, and started toward his bedroom before he noticed Uther.

The tremulous, eager energy that had been driving him forward shattered against the jarring image of the stony king standing in his and Gaius’s home, leaving sharp shards of anxiety pricking in his limbs and chest.

Why is he here? Does he know? How could he? But what if he does oh god oh no—

“My Lord,” Merlin greeted the king as normally as he could manage. He remembered to bow his head a moment too late, and then ruined the gesture again by looking back up to watch as Uther closed the book he had been reading and dropped it carelessly on an already cluttered table. Merlin ducked his head and bowed deeper as the king approached him.

“I wanted to thank you in person for your actions yesterday,” Uther said. “You are a loyal servant to Arthur. I am most grateful.”

“I was just doing my duty.”

“You've proven yourself to be a trusted ally in the fight against magic.” Merlin had dutifully kept his eyes lowered, but as he registered Uther’s words, his head slowly lifted he stared at the king in bafflement.

“Me?” He could hardly keep himself from laughing.

“Those who practice magic will seek to exploit Arthur's inexperience,” Uther said. Merlin schooled his expression and nodded along as the king continued. “They will attempt to corrupt him. We must be extra vigilant.”

“I will keep my eyes peeled.” He tried to keep the irony out of his tone, but he wasn’t sure he entirely succeeded.

“I know you will.” Uther stepped past Merlin toward the door, but stopped before he reached it. He turned back to Merlin to add, “If you ever speak of what happened between myself and Arthur to another living soul, I will have you hanged.”

If I hang for anything, it’ll be for a lot worse than that, Merlin thought.

He bowed his head again as Uther finally stepped out of the chamber. “Right, of course. Yes, My Lord.”

Merlin was still staring at the open door when Gaius entered a moment later.  

“Was that Uther I saw just leaving?” the physician asked, closing the door behind him and raising incredulous eyebrows at Merlin.

“Yeah. He just popped in to say hello.”

“Merlin, what did he want?”

“He wanted to thank me for being a trusted ally in the fight against magic.”

It was almost a relief to see the disbelief Merlin felt reflected in Gaius’s expression. He slumped into a chair as they both processed what had just occurred.

“How you've managed to keep that head on your shoulders is a mystery beyond our greatest minds,” Gaius mused as he set aside his bag. He joined Merlin at the table and met his eyes. “Uther should be grateful. Your life would've been easier and safer if you'd let him die. You must have been tempted.”

“Maybe for a moment,” Merlin admitted. God, had he been tempted. Uther deserved what Arthur would have done to him, and more. “But Arthur wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if he'd gone through with it. It would have destroyed him.” Learning the truth wouldn’t be much easier, but Merlin had no doubt Arthur would emerge a better man.

Gaius smiled gently. “I'm proud of you, Merlin.”

The praise from his friend and mentor warmed him, and Merlin let himself bask in it for a moment.

The moment passed.

“Gaius…” Merlin scuffed his boots against the stone floor, wondering how he was going to tell him that he’d blabbed his big secret to Arthur more or less by accident. Maybe he shouldn’t lead with that part. “Arthur isn’t letting this go. I thought…I could help him get some answers by finding the spell Morgause used.”

The comfort and pride from moments before were gone from Gaius’s face, replaced by apprehension. His mouth pulled into a thin line and his brow furrowed. “You don’t intend to…”

“I just want to know if what she showed him was real,” Merlin clarified hurriedly. “That could tell us more about Morgause’s abilities, couldn’t it?”

Gaius hummed, contemplating the idea with a frown. “It...might,” he agreed reluctantly. “What do you remember of the ritual?”

—

Arise from death. Help your son. Return to this earth.

The translation wasn’t exact. Merlin couldn’t remember every word. But as far as they could tell, there hadn’t been anything malicious or deceptive in Morgause’s spell.

“We cannot trust that her intentions are altruistic,” Gaius cautioned. He had identified a ritual of the Old Religion similar to the one Morgause had used, and verified that it was designed to briefly contact the spirits of the dead. Morgause had modified the words to seek out Ygraine.  

“I know.” She had seemed calm and reasonable, but Merlin had been fooled before. Whatever her methods, Merlin suspected that Morgause planned to destabilize Camelot by destroying Arthur’s loyalty to his father. She may have even expected Arthur to kill him, as he almost had.

Although...if she knew what Arthur wanted to do, would she still seek to undermine Camelot? Or was Uther her true target?

He knew they couldn’t trust her, but maybe she didn’t have to be their enemy. If she truly had known the queen, what else could she tell them about Camelot’s hidden past?

The problem was that he didn’t know what she was really after.

…And that he didn’t know how to find her if they ever wanted to talk.

“What are you up to?” Gaius’s suspicious voice brought him back to the present.

Merlin looked up from the page he’d been staring at. “Nothing,” he lied automatically. He wasn’t sure what Gaius would think of Arthur’s plans...or Merlin’s confession, for that matter.

Gaius narrowed his eyes at him. “I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything foolish.”

Too late, Merlin thought. “Foolish? That doesn’t sound like me at all,” he joked. Gaius’s skeptical expression didn’t change, and Merlin let his smile drop. “No, it’s just…” His jaw clenched, and he forced himself to meet Gaius’s eyes. “Arthur was born because Uther used magic. You knew that. Why didn’t you say anything? ”

Gaius leaned back in his seat. “I made an oath that I would never speak of it.”

So? Merlin wanted to ask. You’ll illegally harbor a sorcerer in the king’s own castle, but you won’t break a promise to tell me that Uther has been deceiving his son and all of Camelot?

He grit his teeth, biting back the impulse. “Well, I know now. The secret’s out. Can’t hurt to tell me more, can it?” he tried.

“I swore I would take that knowledge to my grave.”

“Gaius, please.”

Gaius was silent for a moment as he considered, his pale blue eyes weary and calculating as they searched Merlin’s face. “I suppose you have a right to know the full story,” he said at last. “As does Arthur, but...Uther forbid me from telling him. And it seems he was right to fear what would happen if he knew.”  

Merlin closed his magic book and set it on the table beside them, turning to give Gaius his full attention.

The physician folded his hands in his lap, running his thumbs over his wrinkled knuckles as he began to speak.

“Nimueh was once welcomed in Camelot as an ally to the kingdom, and a friend to Uther,” he said. Merlin’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly, but he stayed silent. “As a High Priestess of the Old Religion, she wielded powerful magic and influence, and Uther relied on her for advice and guidance. I was the Court Physician at that time, and practiced magic freely alongside her.”

Camelot had once been a place where magic was free, accepted, even respected. Merlin could hardly imagine it.

“When Uther realized that Ygraine could not conceive, he turned to magic for answers. I warned him that the magic of life and death was dangerous and unpredictable, but he would not listen. He thought it was his only option. So he sent me to ask Nimueh for her help. She told him, as I had, that there would be a price. A life for a life.”

Merlin knew that price all too well. He remembered heavy rains, the acrid smell of lightning and burnt flesh and cloth, his mother’s face marred by putrid boils. He suppressed a shudder.

“Uther accepted the risk,” Gaius continued. “Perhaps he thought that his life would be taken, or the life of a stranger. Either way, he commanded Nimueh to perform the spell, and she complied. Ygraine became pregnant soon after.”

“So Nimueh took Ygraine’s life?”

Gaius shook his head. “No. She let the Old Religion decide which life to exchange for the child’s when the time came. When Ygraine died just moments after Arthur took his first breaths, it was a shock to us all.”

“But Uther blamed her anyway.”

“Uther banished Nimueh from the court that very night. He had been growing wary of magic’s power for some time, and that incident broke his trust in it completely. The use of dark magic had been spreading. With more deaths and crimes attributed to magic than ever before, Uther was able to turn his people’s fears into hatred. And with that, the Purge had begun.”

Gaius fell silent, his eyes distant, lost in his memories. Merlin stared at his mentor’s profile, just...processing.

“I thought I could do more good by staying behind,” he said quietly, after a while. “Uther had been my friend for a long time. I thought I could reason with him, mitigate his anger. Or at the very least, use my position to help some people escape. So I swore to him I would never use magic again, and I stayed by his side while my friends fled the kingdom, or were caught and executed.”

“Gaius…” Merlin didn’t know what to say. He had never understood why Gaius would serve a man like Uther, until now.

Gaius blinked a few times, sending a stray tear streaking down his cheek. He wiped his face with his sleeve and gave Merlin a weak smile.

“Well, there you have it,” he said. “Now clean up these books and go to bed. I think we could both use some sleep.”

Merlin nodded, mute, and went to work.

[lezzybugo3o]

A Small Treasure

Hello, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! It gives me great pleasure to tell you all that I finally finished a little fic I had been writing for my favorite fishy prince. It took some time since I took many breaks and this is literally my first fanfic in God knows how long. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to leave feedback. 

Summary: Prince Sidon is feeling a bit down, but a visit to Link and Zelda’s castle may hold something (or someone) to help brighten his day.

Another sigh escaped from the Zora Prince as he stared down the documents before him. He could see the words just fine, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. Sidon rested his cheek on his hand and tapped his quill a few times. After several minutes of staring at the document without making so much as a line, Sidon groaned and decided to get up to take a break. He walked out of his office and took a deep breath of fresh air. The Zora took in the sight of his home and gave a tiny smile. Had it really been only six years since the threat of Calamity Ganon? To him, it felt like only a short time ago. He then thought of Link and whatever high spirits were starting to rise quickly fell back down.

Sidon heaved a sigh as he remembered that day: he was going to express his feelings to Link, only to find the Hylian hero had pledged his heart to Princess Zelda. To add salt to the wound two years later, Link had asked the prince if he would be his best man at the wedding. As much as the Zora’s head told him to say no, his heart won out in the end. He may not have been fond of the turn of events, but there was no way he was going to disappoint his most beloved friend, so he accepted.

“Perhaps a swim will take my mind off of this,” he mused, heading to the open waters near Zora’s Domain. He took off his sash and left his sword by the shore before diving into the river. Sidon let himself drift in the water for a while and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander aimlessly in an effort to calm himself. That was the plan until…

“So this is where you’ve been holed up, your Highness.”

The Zora looked up from his drifting and saw the Gerudo Chief herself, Riju. The young woman had her traditional smirk as she watched Sidon get out of the water and straighten himself up.

“I am honestly surprised to see you here, Riju. Was there a meeting I forgot to attend?”

Riju shook her head. “No, but you have been suspiciously quiet these last few months. I was going to come here on my accord, but then Yunobo, Teba, and I got these important letters. Three guesses as to who they’re from.”

Sidon groaned as he picked up his sword and returned it to his side. “I am in no mood for guessing games, Riju.”

The Gerudo raised an eyebrow, dropping her smile. “Wow. Your spirits must be at rock bottom if you’re not even going to give it a try… you aren’t still thinking about Link, are you?”

“Just tell me what the letters are for, Riju,” huffed Sidon, wanting to avoid the question.

“Very well. Link and Zelda invited us, the new Champions,” she said, emphasizing their role bestowed upon them, “over to Hyrule Castle in order to see the new child that will someday be heir to the throne.”

The very mention of the word ‘child’ was enough to peak Sidon’s interest. “A child? They had a child? Why wouldn’t they send a letter informing us that Zelda was carrying a baby at least?”

Riju shrugged her shoulders and said, “I’m not really sure. Maybe they were pretty busy or they wanted to wait until the child was born to tell us. Either way, you should come with us to see it. Otherwise, you’ll be missing out on seeing Hyrule’s future ruler.”

Oh, yes. I would definitely be missing out on seeing the spawn of Hyrule’s princess and the hero I had feelings for, but could never have, Sidon thought to himself, a little bitter. He exhaled heavily and figured he had nothing else to lose. “Okay. I suppose we should start making our way to the castle.”

The shorter Champion nodded and led the prince to where Yunobo and Teba were waiting, along with Teba’s wife and child. On their way there riding atop of Vah Medoh, Riju noticed Sidon was lost in thought as he said almost nothing. She tapped his shoulder in order to get his attention. “Hey, whatever’s bothering you, you can tell me about it. I promise I won’t make any snarky comments about it.”

Sidon looked to her and sighed. “Alright. I suppose I’m having trouble letting go of the past. To answer the question you had earlier…yes, I still think about Link from time to time. I know it’s wrong because he’s married to Zelda now, but...” He groaned and put his face in his hands, not knowing what else to say.

The Gerudo patted his side in a sympathetic manner. “It’s understandable that you would have some complications. After all, Link is pretty attractive. Nevertheless, he gave his heart to Zelda and there’s nothing we can do about it.” She put her hand on his back and patted it. “Give it time and you’ll be back to your cheery self again.”

The Zora prince looked at her as if she had two heads but smiled afterwards, knowing she at least tried to make him feel better.

“Look sharp, everybody. We’re getting close to the castle, so prepare for a bit of a bumpy landing,” said Teba, looking for a good spot to land the flying beast.

“Oh, good. I’m not a big fan of flying,” groaned Yunobo as he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to look down.

Saki chuckled and patted Yunobo’s head in an effort to comfort him. “Don’t worry, Yunobo. Like Teba said, we’re almost there.”

Once Vah Medoh landed on the ground, the Goron ran off the Divine Beast and panted. “F-finally…solid ground!”

Teba rolled his eyes in annoyance and helped him up. “You’ll get used to it someday, kiddo. For now, let’s find Link. He said he was going to meet us outside.”

Sure enough, the Hylian Champion spotted them and waved them over. Sidon saw him and looked away sadly before following the others inside the castle. Link smiled and shook their hands one by one. “I’m glad you all could make it. I know you’re all very busy with your own duties, but Zelda and I just had to tell you guys about the new baby. Follow me.”

They all followed the Hylian hero through the castle as Tulin bombarded him with questions about the baby, eager to meet it. “What’s the baby’s name? Does it look like you or Zelda more? Does it have Zelda’s powers or yours?” the small Rito asked.

Link laughed a bit, petting his head. “Don’t worry, little guy. You’ll see soon enough.” He came upon a room after leading the others up a flight of stairs. “Well, here we are. You might wanna be quiet in case the baby’s sleeping.” He gently knocked on the door. “Zelda? I brought our guests. Is it alright to come in?”

A slightly tired voice came from the other side of the door. “Come on in. The baby’s just finishing her nap.” Link opened the door and led them in to where Zelda was sitting with a bundle in her arms. She smiled as she saw them all. The princess cleared her throat then said, “I’m sure you’re all rather curious to see the future heir to Hyrule’s throne. Well, here she is.” She pulled the top of the blanket off tenderly to reveal a tiny baby girl sleeping peacefully. The others minus Sidon, who was looking away at the moment, gasped in awe at this new little royal.

“Oooh, just look at her. She’s so cute,” cooed Riju.

“Isn’t she just?” Zelda gazed down at the baby and gently rocked her to rouse her from her nap. “Wake up, sweetie. We have company.”

Almost on command, the child scrunched up her face and yawned before opening her eyes, showing them to be a lovely shade of blue like her father. She saw all the new people in front of her and tilted her head curiously as if trying to make sense of them.

Saki chuckled at this adorable sight. “Aren’t you a precious one? What’s her name, Zelda?”

“It’s Cordelia. I’ve always wanted to name a daughter of mine something beautiful… that and Link was about to call her Zelda Jr.”

Link laughed, a bit nervous. “Can you blame me? She looked a lot like you when she was born.”

“Seems to me like she’s got the best of both of you,” Teba mused before gently tickling Cordelia’s chubby chin with his feathery finger, making her giggle.

Saki picked up Tulin so he could get a good view of the baby. When the small Rito saw her, he tilted his head in curiosity and wonder. “Gosh, she’s really puny.”

His mother smiled and added, “So were you when your father and I first had you. Who knows, you two might get to play together when she’s big enough.”

“Would anyone like to hold her?” Zelda questioned, holding the baby out to them.

Yunobo twiddled his fingers a bit before speaking up. “I guess I’ll give it a try.”

Link took Cordelia from Zelda’s arms and handed her over to the young Goron. “Be sure to support her head and don’t be scared.”

Yunobo gulped and held on to the baby as carefully as he could. He felt like he was holding a priceless piece of glass that could break with the slightest wrong move. “Ah, um, hi there, little princess. I’m Yunobo.” Cordelia gurgled and reached her hands up to him, wanting to touch his face. The Goron lifted her up closer and laughed a bit when she patted his cheeks. “Awww, she likes me!”

“Hey, don’t keep her all to yourself, silly. I want to hold her too,” Riju stated with her hands on her hips. Sure enough, Yunobo gave the young one to the Gerudo woman. She looked down lovingly at the child and kissed her forehead. “I see you’ll have no trouble entering my home when you come of age, little darling.” Riju glanced at Sidon who had been looking away this whole time and frowned. “Sidon, will you quit staring off somewhere and give a warm welcome to the new princess?”

The Zora Prince rolled his eyes and decided to see what the fuss was about. The moment he took a peek in the child’s direction… his heart skipped a beat. He stepped closer and saw the most adorable baby he had ever laid eyes upon. “By Hylia… she’s… she’s beautiful.”

“And you spent this whole time gazing out into the distance, heh heh,” joked Riju.

Link smiled and pet his daughter’s tiny tuft of blonde hair. “You wanna hold her, Sidon?”

“M-may I?” Sidon stammered. “I only hope she does not find me frightening, given my teeth and large size.”

“You’ll just have to find out for yourself, you big dope.” The Gerudo Champion wasted no time in handing the baby over to the prince.

Sidon gulped a bit since he had only held a few babies in his time and this was no Zora child that was accustomed to the wet environment. Yet his doubts seemed to disappear when he looked into the curious eyes of the Hylian infant. The prince gave his signature grin and greeted, “Hello, young one! I am Sidon, Prince of the Zora. It is a pleasure to meet you!” To his joy, Cordelia laughed giddily at him. He chuckled and let her wrap her tiny hands on one of his fingers.

Link and Zelda beamed with pride as they held one another, taking in the sight of their friends admiring their new child. Riju crossed her arms with a smirk and quipped, “So, are you happy you came along with us, your Highness?”

Sidon brought Cordelia up to his face and sighed as the small one touched his face, cooing at him. He nuzzled her cheek gently before looking at Riju and replied, “Yes I am, Riju... I am fortunate enough to experience such a wondrous little treasure.”

[kalluralove]

Tangled AU

Kallura month requests by anons for Moon Princess and Kidnapped. Mild NSFW.

Once upon a time… c’mon, really guys? No one talks like this anymore. Yeah, don’t care. We’re doing this my way. Just shut up and trust me!

*Ahem*

This is the story of how I died. Well, almost. But don’t worry, this is actually a very fun story and the truth is, it isn’t entirely mine.

This is the story of a girl, named Allura. And it starts with the moon.

 Keith couldn’t believe his luck. Bad luck that is. He’d managed to bag the crown and clear the castle doors, but his escape from town was blocked at every turn. He ducked into a small alleyway to catch his breath, realizing too late there was no exit.

 There were, however, several crates full of lanterns for the ceremony the following week. The story of the missing princess was a sad one, but her floating lights might save him just like her crown was going to save Shiro.

 Hastily he grabbed some twine and tied several lamps together, lighting them as carefully as possible. Then he climbed to the highest box, which was just barely arms reach from the top of the curtain wall. With any good luck, he should clear the moat.

 Once atop the wall he stopped to look over the side, his throat suddenly parched and tight. A single wrong move and he’d be dead.

 “Well, here goes nothing,” he mumbled before taking a running leap.

 The lanterns held up pretty well under his weight surprisingly. What they couldn’t manage was fending off the barrage of arrows that began slicing through them, one by one.

 Keith was pretty sure he could still clear the outer wall unscathed when it hit him.

 No, not an idea. An arrow. Right in the butt. A second arrow pierced his left shoulder. The pain seared through him and soon the weakness extended to his entire arm. Soon he let go, dropping the remaining distance into a clearing surrounded on all sides by rock walls, essentially hiding him from the king’s guards.

 “Maybe my luck is changing.”

   The bright moon sat high in the sky before she changed for bed. Allura had spent the day doing her usual thing, her pet chameleon by her side. Although she was growing bored of most activities she always enjoyed painting. First it was just small pictures, the moon in each of its phases. Then she expanded to the walls of the room, bejeweling them with stars and Juniberry flowers and strands of red ribbons. But always, in every innovative design, the moon featured prominently.

 She considered herself an amateur astronomer. Tracking the movements and markings of the moon inspired her. Sometimes she believed if she ever escaped her tower she could actually travel there. If only Mother Haggar would let her go, she was old enough to take of herself now for certain.

 The muffled thuds from outside shook her back from her musings. Mother Haggar wasn’t due back for days and even most animals seemed unaware of the secluded tower in the woods. Quickly she made her way to the window, straining at the shadows below to make out a small shape near the ground.

 Thunk.

  Thunk.

 Okay the less smallish shape now farther from the ground and closer to her. It almost looked like—

 “Pidge, is that someone climbing the wall?”

 Her lizard friend looked down then back at her, large eyes blinking slowly. Okay, so apparently neither of them could believe what they were seeing.

 Allura’s heart began to race as she pondered what to do. She’d long been told that people, especially men, were out to take advantage of her and her magic hair. She grabbed an iron frying pan and waited in the shadows.

 “It’s only one person,” she mused. “I should be able to fend for myself.”

  Keith came to with a splitting headache. Last thing he remembered was that he’d finally reached the window of the tower, then climbing through into a darkened room. Then…

 BAM!

 Keith came to with a splitting headache. Last thing he remembered was coming to—

 Okay, what the hell? And what was up with the frog on his shoulder? And why was his ear wet?

 “Ew!” A shiver ran up his spine as the realization set in. “What are you? And how did something as small as you manage to tie me up with, what is this any way? Wait, is this hair?”

 Yep, it was hair. Lot and lots of silvery hair. It wrapped around him from his shoulders to his feet, across the room, up the rafters, and to…a girl?

 “Hey, lady, you know kidnapping is illegal, right?”

 “So is breaking and entering, I might add. Now, tell me who you are and how you found me.”

 “I didn’t find you. Well, I kinda did, but I didn’t want to,” Keith grumbled. “Could you at least come down so I can see the witch that’s going to turn me into a frog like you did this poor fellow.”

 “That’s Pidge, he’s a she, and she’s a chameleon. Now, tell me your name,” she demanded as she stepped into the small sliver of moonlight gracing the room.

 “Name’s Keith, Moonbeam, and you don’t look like a witch. Is that some magic spell to make me think you’re a beautiful woman so you can tempt me into doing something evil?”

 “My name is Allura, and I am not a witch,” she complained, crossing her arms to accentuate her point.

 Still the young woman blushed at the compliment, which the young thief found charming. Maybe she really was just a young woman after all. An extremely attractive young woman, with luscious dark skin and sparkling blue eyes. A young woman wearing a red silk gown that clung to her in all the right places…

 This could get interesting.

 “So, Keith, why have you come here if it wasn’t to kidnap me?”

 “I stole a crown from the palace to pay the ransom for my friend Shiro. He was taken prisoner by the Galra during the war and they’re demanding a high price for his freedom. And I don’t steal from the poor, so this was my next best option. Anyway, the guards shot at me, so I’m hiding out here until they give up and leave.”

 He studied her face to see if she believed him or not. Finally, her shoulders relaxed and she offered him a timid smile.

 “So, Moonbeam, can I ask you something now?”

 She nodded in agreement, “I suppose that’s fair.”

 “Why am I naked?”

  “You’re a man, right?”

 “That’s true. Do you strip every man you meet or should I assume that I am special?”

 “Considering you’re the first man I’ve ever met then just assume it’s neither,” she countered, bristling at his overconfidence.

 This man was certainly handsome (she presumed) but a bit conceited too. Still, she supposed an explanation was required.

 “Mother Haggar has taught me for years that men are dangerous, that they have fangs and claws and they eat girls alive.”

 His face went slack, his jaw flopped open as it to respond but lacking any sort of sound.

 “After I knocked you out I checked and you seem to have neither, so I determined to find out what actually set men and women apart.”

 Now his mouth closed into a sly grin, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

 “And did you figure out what that difference was by any chance?”

 For some reason she grew nervous, fidgeting her fingers while looking everywhere but at him.

 “Yes. Maybe. There’s that…thing. What is it? Is that some secret weapon or something?”

 Allura was quite unsure at this point why she sounded like an uneducated clout. Reading was something she’d done since childhood; how could she know so little about this?

 Well, who better to learn from than an expert, right?

 “It’s not a weapon, per se, but it can be used to one’s advantage,” he smoothed. The way he looked at her sent shivers all over her body.

 “What was that?”

 “What was what?”

 “Your hair just, um, squeezed me?”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

 “Don’t apologize. It actually kinda felt pretty good.”

 He wasn’t lying, her soft tresses wrapped around him felt amazing. Every inch of his body that touched it felt like it was being cradled by the wind, softly moving, brushing the faint hairs of his skin. Still he winced when it brushed over his bloody gashes left by the arrows.

 She seemed to take notice of his pain, kneeling before him with a look of concern. Soon she began singing, the tune unfamiliar and haunting. Slowly her white locks began to glow silver, beginning at the crown of her head before gradually reaching him. A faint tickle spread wherever her locks touched. The dull pain of his wounds subsided as he sat astonished.

 “You are a witch after all.” This time his tone was less accusatory and more awestruck, but Allura still recoiled at the statement.

 “No,” she retorted, “they just have healing powers. Your wounds are completely gone.” She glared at him for a moment, waiting for a reply.

 “I believe you owe me,” she huffed after he sat unflinching in his chair.

 Sure, he owed her; he knew he did. And he was afraid of what that might cost him so he was a bit hesitant to speak. Eventually the silence wore him down, however, and he decided to try his luck. Again.

 “What would Princess Moonbeam ask of me in return,” he drawled, tilting his head slightly in mock consideration.

 Allura stood in front of him, bending at the waist to bring her face eye-level to his.

 “I want you to show me how that works,” she ordered, pointing to his crotch. “If men can use those to their advantage I want to know how to counter an attack.”

 Her hair began to go slack, somewhat to his disappointment, and she reached over to pull the long mane from his chest. As she did so her fingernails scraped lazily across his skin, and for a moment he pondered stopping her before she realized his “weapon” had taken on a somewhat different size and form than before.

 “You know, Princess, I’ll be happy to show you how it works but I can’t until you show me how yours works.”

 There, that’ll stop her. Not that he wanted to stop her, he just didn’t want to take advantage of her naivete.

“Show you how what works?”

 He in turn nodded in the appropriate direction, trying desperately not to blush at the thought of how badly he wanted it.

 “But I don’t have one of those, remember?”

 She was looking at him like he was some poor fool and their dialogue was becoming somewhat amusing at this point.

 “Well, you kinda do, but the opposite.” Gods, did that even make sense?

 “Opposite?”

 “Well, men have these and, ugh, this is not working,” he lamented.

 Allura reached to place her hand on his bare shoulder. The warmth of it burned him in the most pleasant way. Her eyes locked onto his, and his composure melted away into pure want.

 “Show me.”

 “First let me kiss you.”

 “Why do you need kiss me?”

 “Because, uh, you know. That’s how it works. Usually. Probably.”

 Shit. So maybe Keith only knew a little more about the subject than her. She didn’t need to know that, right? If she thought he wasn’t an expert she might drop it all together.

 All of the hair had finally been removed and she reached out her hand to pull him to stand. He hadn’t realized how tall she was until now; they were the same height which meant everything lined up just right. Easy, right?

 “So now what?”

 “Now close your eyes.”

  She might say it was against her better judgement but at the moment her judgement was telling her it was okay to trust him. Allura let her eyes slide shut, not too tight but enough that she could no longer see his form.

 For a moment, nothing happened. His warmth still radiated near her so she knew he hadn’t left, and Pidge would have warned her if he tried anything funny. A slight movement of air fluttered around her hands, up her arms and over her shoulders. Then two large, strong hands landed gently on her cheeks, his thumb lightly tracing the lines of her pink eye markings.

 “Is this kissing?”

 “Not yet. This is kissing,” he whispered, his breath blowing a warm, wet breeze that tickled her lips.

 It was quick. His mouth was on hers for a mere second, but in that second, she felt the air in her lungs leave and she was left wanting more. Opening her eyes, she found him staring wide-eyed at her, his hands still cradling her face. The smile she gave him was genuine, a sign that he’d not crossed any boundaries unfairly.

 “Is- is that all there is to it?”

 His hands flew from her face as if they were burned. He took a step backwards and started to turn to walk away.

 “Yeah. Now that you know, when you leave here you won’t have to be scared of men anymore, right? So… I’ll get going before your mom gets back, thanks for the hair thing.”

 “You’re leaving now? Just like that?”

 “Look, I did what you asked, now can you give me my clothes back so I can leave?” The anger in his voice shook her a bit, yet steeled her resolve.

 “No, you didn’t.”

 “How so?”

 “I asked you to show me how that thing works. You didn’t do that, did you?”

 His face turned red as he sputtered, “Sorry, but I haven’t actually used it for that before. Maybe you should find someone else to ask.”

 “Have you ever kissed before?”

 “No,” he answered, his shoulders slumping as his head dropped further towards his chest.

 “I liked it though. Could we maybe do that again?”

 Keith swiveled his head to face her, his eyes slightly unsure. “Really? I mean, sure, if you want.”

 Allura closed the distance, her eyes locking onto his. If she had to tie him up again he wasn’t getting away tonight.

 “Oh, I most certainly do.”