#because that's what humanity is about. breaking the rules to share fire. paying the price for doing what you believe in

[neverendingford]

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[chatonne-rousse]

The Importance of the Black Cat

Adrien has a lot on his mind - concerns, questions, doubts. And right now, he has only one being to confide in. There is not enough cheese in the world to make Plagg want to handle this situation, but his holder needs him, and he knows two things with certainty: his very important place in the world, and that no one hurts his kitten. Not if he has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

The Camembert he holds in his paws is aged beautifully, gooey and perfectly pungent. He knows it was expensive, purchased with his holder’s allowance, and therefore tries to at least do the kid the honor of enjoying it. But as he mulls over the day’s events, the first few bites sit like a brick in his tiny stomach.

Tonight, Plagg eats his cheese for sustenance only. It’s hard to find the usual joy when his holder hasn’t spoken since they arrived home.

The light in the closet switches off as Adrien shuffles out into the bedroom, dressed for bed in black pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. The departure from his usual red and black spotted look doesn’t escape Plagg’s notice, but he chooses not to comment.

Plagg discovered long ago that his devotion to his holders is inversely proportional to his ability to counsel them. He knows he’s not good at advice beyond cheese and chaos. He wasn’t made for emotions and heartfelt chats.

A sure and confident holder didn’t usually open his heart or seek his kwami’s counsel, and Plagg liked that. They did their jobs, they shared their lives, but they didn’t share their hearts. They didn’t need to, because his holder needed his power more than his presence.

But once in a while, he’d materialize in front of a human whose eyes shone with innocent kindness, and he knew immediately that they would need him. If he’s honest, Plagg will admit that these are the best wielders of destruction. It’s all about intention, after all, and a pure heart rarely destroys with disregard. These holders, however, always seemed to come with a price - they saw their kwami as less of a means to an end and more of a friend.

He loved these holders. He would level cities and wipe out species for them. But oh, did he ever dread having to talk to them. Really, really talk.

Plagg knows his kitten will break the silence soon. It’s only a matter of time. He isn’t sure if it will be to talk about being stuck in the elevator with his very good friend, a monologue that will no doubt be punctuated by sighs and soft eyes that will be quickly denied if his kwami points them out.

One undeniable fact from the day, however, is the racing pulse and rapid breathing of a boy terrified of being locked up and feeling increasingly helpless in the situation. Plagg knows very well that it happened, because he was tucked inside Adrien’s shirt listening to his pounding heart. He hopes his holder doesn’t want to talk about that, because it’s way above Plagg’s pay grade.

He also hopes his holder won’t ponder why only he was dragged through the portal to safety, or why Rena Rouge was the one to do it.

Plagg gets down almost two full wedges of cheese before Adrien sits down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Plagg?” His voice is quiet but doesn’t betray any emotion yet. That’s actually more worrying.

Steeling himself, Plagg swallows the last big bite of cheese and zips from the desk to perch on top of the globe, facing his holder. “What’s up?”

He heaves another sigh before looking up into Plagg’s eyes, emotions still unreadable.

“How important is the black cat?”

Oh. A wave of relief makes Plagg’s whiskers perk up. The question is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He’s lousy with advice but an expert at talking about himself.

He puffs up his tiny chest and grins a fanged grin. “Only the most important, kid! Everything has to end sometime - except me, of course, but,” he shrugs, “we can’t all be perfect.” He hopes that will garner a smile, but realizes a moment too late that he’d started his speech talking about death to a boy who lost his mother at thirteen. Oh no, he thinks, panicking. He’s bad at this, too.

He barrels on. “I mean, creation is nothing without destruction. The very concepts go together, always. Can you imagine a world where flowers never wilt and people never die?” Adrien’s eyes widen and his brows furrow. Shit, Plagg thinks. I did it again.

“Plagg, that sounds...really nice, actually.”

He shakes his head. He can get this back on track. He’ll fall back on pragmatism like always. “It does, but that’s not how the world works. Your planet can’t sustain an expanding and eternal population. Everything grows and lives and dies and starts over again. Everything has a beginning and an end.” Plagg’s eyes shine with pride. “Only I, and my very lucky holders, get to harness that inevitability into a real power, and use it for good. Tikki and her bugs can create, but we destroy,” he pitches his voice lower, his tone serious, “so they can create again.”

Adrien’s eyes are still wide, but Plagg sees wonder and a bit of pride there. He lets his tiny shoulders relax.

“I never thought of it that way. You really are amazing, buddy.” He reaches out to scratch Plagg behind the ears with a soft smile that his kwami would see doesn’t reach his eyes if his own weren’t closed with pride and delight.

The hand retreats, and Plagg opens his eyes just to watch Adrien’s face fall.

“But I meant...how important is the black cat to the ladybug?”

"How...what?" Plagg splutters, taken aback. "I just told you, kid. Every beginning has an end. Creation and destruction are perfectly equal. You don't want to know what happens when they're not."

Adrien's eyes snap to his, clearly on the edge of a dawning horror. Oh no. Not again.

Plagg waves his paws. "What I mean is, you need each other. Tikki is never activated without me, and I'm never called up without her. We're two halves of a whole. You've never seen the inside of the miracle box," he scowls, "which is bullshit, by the way, but if you did, you'd see that the center is a circle, split perfectly in two. Tikki and I go together, and so do you and Ladybug. You can do this without each other, but you're not meant to."

Adrien's shoulders droop. "Yeah, I know she can win a fight without me. She's had to do it before." He sighs. "A lot."

"Sure," Plagg agrees, and can't resist adding, "but she wouldn't need to if you didn't throw yourself in the line of fire every chance you get."

"I have to protect her, Plagg! You know that! Ladybug is more important than me."

"Kid!" Plagg bursts out in frustration, "I don't know how else to tell you this! You. Are. Equal."

“Then…” Adrien’s breath catches and he blinks several times. “Then why doesn’t she need me anymore?”

For just a moment, in the time it takes for the words to register and translate and pierce his heart, Plagg’s ire flares white-hot and livid. No one hurts my kitten and gets away with it. But he looks into his holder’s eyes, sad and achingly lonely, and his anger slips away as quickly as it came. He’ll deal with his own feelings on the matter later.

Besides, it’s not Marinette’s fault. She’s doing the best she can. He’d still relish giving her an earful, but piling on the heartbreaking guilt about his holder’s situation wouldn’t really help and might just snap what Tikki has insinuated is a currently-tenuous grasp on stability. Plagg knows she’s making decisions based on the mentorship of a flawed man, a failed guardian who ran from his mistakes for the better part of two centuries.

Fu never understood Plagg and never tried to. None of the guardians did. Beyond knowing the basics of his power and the importance of the ring of the black cat in relation to the earrings of the ladybug, Fu never saw Plagg as anything more than a liability. Which is honestly fair, but Plagg doesn’t have to like it.

He definitely doesn’t have to like it when the rules of secrecy leave his kitten in the dark and feeling useless. Especially after what he now suspects from the clues he got today.

He looks into his holder's tear-filled eyes and sees a soft innocence rare among the long line of black cats who've worn the ring. This might just be his most difficult assignment yet, but it's also one of his favorites, and he'll protect his kitten no matter what it takes. Even if it means talking about feelings.

Once his stomach is settled, he's going to eat so much cheese to make up for this.

Plagg takes a deep breath. "Who spotted Optigami in the elevator today?"

Adrien blinks but says nothing.

"Who made sure Ladybug didn't tell her secrets to Truth?" He waits another moment, watching Adrien's blush rise and letting his words sink in. "And who protected her identity when she was hit by Kwamibuster?"

"Okay, but—"

Plagg steamrolls his holder shamelessly. "You were the key to defeating Gorizilla, Stormy Weather, Lady Wifi. I have a long memory, kid. Do you want me to keep going? Because I haven't even gotten to the times you kept your bug afloat with all those pep talks and disgusting feelings. A nice piece of Brie would've perked her up, but I have to admit that your methods worked, too."

Adrien sniffs and chuckles. "Okay, buddy. I get it." His eyes still betray an ocean of hurt, but Adrien's soft smile seems genuine.

Plagg has never quite understood human emotion, though he's seen it all in his many centuries among humanity. He's also seen the myriad ways humans cover up one emotion with another (and another, and another, and sometimes destructive behaviors and very dark paths). He doesn't much enjoy dealing with human feelings, but he when it comes to masks, he prefers the very stylish ones he manifests on his holders' faces, changing with the times and his whims and his holders' thoughts. It's been a long time since he had a holder whose civilian life necessitated so many different masks. No wonder he eats so much Camembert to recharge - it's exhausting just watching it.

"What I'm saying, kitten...er, kid, is that your bug needs you. Paris needs you. And I know that because creation always needs destruction." He snorts a laugh. "That's a fact that's bigger than both of us."

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." Adrien sighs and stands to pull back the covers and turn out the light. He climbs in bed and heaves another sigh as his head hits the pillow. "I just wish she'd let me help her. I...I know she's going through something."

Plagg settles on the pillow next to Adrien's, in the Camembert-infused spot where he sleeps. "Being a guardian kind of sucks. It used to be a whole big thing - years of training and ceremonies and shaving your head in a weird pattern..."

Adrien breathes a laugh in the darkness.

"Did you just imagine your beloved bug with her pigtails cut off and a bald spot shaved into her head?"

"Plagg! How dare you?" comes the reply, but his laughter betrays him. Yeah, he's totally picturing it.

Plagg smiles. "What I mean is, you know her. As much as you can, at least. She's told you over and over how important you are to her. I hear all that mushy crap, you know. I don't think she means to hurt you." A pause. "If she does, she'll regret it," he mutters.

"Please don't threaten my future wife, Plagg."

"Still?"

"Still what?"

Plagg blinks. Adrien blinks, then finally catches up.

"Oh. Well." He takes a deep breath. "I'm...a little upset about some things. But I'm sure we can work it out. People make mistakes. Besides, just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you stop loving them, Plagg."

He wouldn't trade Adrien and his tender heart for the world, but sometimes Plagg wishes he was already a bit more jaded when he slipped the ring on his finger that first day. He doesn't want to witness the moment his holder's gentle spirit is finally crushed by what he knows better than most is a very cruel world.

For a long moment, Plagg considers his answer and finally chooses sarcasm. He shrugs. "You can always just cataclysm their prized possessions. That works, too."

That startles a laugh from his holder, tired and tinged with emotion, but a laugh nonetheless. Plagg considers it a win.

They settle into silence. Adrien's eyes close sleepily. Plagg considers getting another wedge of cheese now that his stomach has calmed down a little, but the thought that this is far from over makes his indigestion flare again. Love is messy and inconvenient, the Cancoillotte cheese of emotions. But, he supposes, looking at his holder in the dark, it's worth the difficulty.

Adrien's eyes open suddenly to meet Plagg's glowing green.

"Thanks for talking to me, buddy. I'm sorry I—"

Plagg zips over to his holder before he can finish the sentence, tucking his little body into the crook of Adrien's neck and starting up a loud purr.

"You're welcome. You owe me so much cheese."

Adrien laughs again, and Plagg purrs louder when he reaches up to scratch behind his tiny ears.

"Reblochon again?"

Plagg stifles a laugh at the fact that he has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's feelings before realizing how sad it is that he...well, has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's emotions. Someday, when his holder is on his own and out from under the tyrannical rule of his asshole father, Plagg has every intention of cataclysming Gabriel's entire atelier, including his tablet and any backup drives. He dreams about it sometimes. Just watching the world burn. It'll be beautiful.

He sighs wistfully before answering. "I was thinking Époisses."

Adrien groans. "Plagg, no. It's so gross."

"Plagg, yes. Feelings are gross. Cheese is life."

Another sigh. "Fine. I'll order it in the morning."

Silence falls over them again, this time comfortable and warm. When Adrien's breathing evens out, Plagg heads over to the cupboard for a snack. By the time he's eaten two more wedges of Camembert and thought about the whole situation, he's decided to pay Pigtails and his other half a visit. This can't continue. They're all headed for catastrophe, and no one wants to see what he'll do if this breaks his kitten.

He takes a wedge of cheese for the road and heads for the window, but something makes him stop before he phases through. He turns back to look at his sleeping holder. The moonlight shines through the windows, casting shadows like prison bars across the room, across the bed, across his kitten. Plagg thinks suddenly of Adrien waking up alone, his kwami nowhere to be found, and realizes he can't just leave.

He sighs. He's sighed so many times tonight.

Plagg tosses the cheese in the air and catches it expertly, swallowing it in one gulp, then makes his way back to the bed.

Tomorrow, he'll find a way to phase into Pigtails' bag during homeroom for a much-needed discussion with Tikki. He doesn't want to - he really doesn't want to - but Plagg intends to do his part to fix this. Holders like his come once in a very, very long lifetime. Adrien is worth it.

He settles again on his cheese-scented pillow and curls up, wrapping his tail snugly around his body. Soon his purr matches the rhythm of Adrien's quiet breathing, and peace, however temporary, falls gently over the two of them once more.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

The Thief and the Tinker, Part 3: I See Fire

part 2

Part 3

Viren: Well how do you suggest we get him out?

Claudia: *grins, brandishes marshmallow on toasting fork* Unharmed is just another kind of harmed

Viren: Claudia no

Claudia: Claudia YES

I See Fire

Angst rating: 9/10

Viren is clever enough not to take the Silvergrove on alone, no matter how badly he wants Ethari to make him a magic key. Aaravos could be cooking in that pod for a while longer, but Viren still has a trustworthy and badass ally at his side.

Oh yeah, it's Claudia Time again!

Claudia is a powerful and imaginative dark mage, and she has the tainted Sun staff. So, you're the magefam, and you've made it to Xadia, to the edges of the Moonshadow Forest. And all you need to do to get the power of your dreams is to threaten one soft craftsman. But how do you find one specific Moonshadow elf in a hidden Moonshadow village somewhere in the middle of a giant spooky magical forest?

You burn him out.

Credit once again to@random-fandom-ramble for reminding me of this forest fire headcanon, because it fits so well. and so I don't get all the blame for this one, lol

Because see, that's not ordinary fire. Oh, no. That's dark magic fire. We've seen that before. It leaves permanent scars. Remember Sol Regem's eyes?

That's going to be the landscape when Claudia's fire gets through with the Moonshadow elves' home. Where I live on the US West Coast, they name forest fires, and if they combine, they get called complexes. So maybe we can name this fire the Dark Tragedy Complex? Because I do have to wonder... you could start a dark magic forest fire easily with a tainted Sun staff, but how do you put it out?

Two things are going to happen if these events should unfold. One is angsty. The other is also angsty but then amazing.

Firstly, Viren is going to get what he wants. He'll find Ethari, whose tree burned down :(. He'll show him the coins, and he'll offer a trade. Build what he wants and make it work, and Ethari can have his family back, uncoined and free.

And Ethari will say yes.

He'll say yes no matter what anyone else tries to persuade him to do, and I hope they do try, because see: Ethari has to make it look good. He has to make it look like he's all in on Viren's plan, to Viren. Even if that means turning his back on his people in their time of greatest need.

Secondly, the Moonshadow elves are going to be collectively homeless and bereft, hungry, injured, terrified, angry. They will have nowhere to go. They will be a people without a home. And no one else in Xadia will help them. Maybe they're too terrified to hide Ethari's people in case doing so brings Viren down on them, too. We've seen how ordinary elves flee in terror from dark magic. Maybe they're all fighting other issues, too. Viren knows all about stretching resources too far during times of crisis. Whatever the case, there will be no welcome anywhere in Xadia for the Moonshadow elves of the Moonshadow Forest.

But here's where it gets amazing. Because one hand will reach out. One small hand, from across the border. Good King Ezran will stand up on the seat of his throne and say, "You can stay here. I have forests. You're tired, you're hungry. You need medicine. Let me help."

And I'm gonna cry like a little baby.

How many cycles does this break, how many circles does it complete? Moonshadow elves used to live in Katolis before the border was created. When humans were under threat of total annihilation, the Moonshadow leader's daughter spoke up and asked for mercy. That mercy came in the form of land reassignment, and the Moonshadow elves had to give up their ancestral home, their Nexus, and travel east across the new Border. But that mercy got paired with justice, and the life-loving Moon Druids probably had to swear some kind of blood promise to keep an eye on the humans forevermore, and to kill any individuals who got out of hand, as if their sins were the Moonshadows' responsibility now.

That's got to breed a little resentment, a little superiority. "Look what we sacrificed for you, and this is how you act. Ungrateful." And maybe that was partially Luna Tenebris's goal: to hold to her vision of justice, she had to make the elves who shared her arcanum feel a little resentment. Moonshadows love life, but we can't have them being too soft to keep Xadia safe from dark mages, now, can we? I will never stop cackling over dragon politics okay, never

But the Moonshadow elves never figured on King Ezran. A soft boy who refused to let his father's assassination harden his heart, because every life is genuinely important to him. I've seen headcanons for Ezran getting the Sun, Earth, Ocean, and Stars arcanum. How about Moon, too? Because this is very Ethari of him, and if these stories of Viren's plan and the Moonshadow elves' displacement were actually to happen in tandem, the contrast between Ezran's soft choice and Ethari's hard one would be mindblowing.

Ezran completes the circle by inviting the Moonshadow elves to return to Katolis, to their ancestral home. They left long ago, paying the price for an act of mercy, but they were welcomed back by the mercy of humans, repaid after a thousand years, repaid in the face of tragedy. Tragedy on all sides. Tragedy Ezran wants to stop from happening, by being brave and caring and soft, and by being the first to break this thousand-year cycle between Katolis and the Moonshadow elves.

Rayla is his friend. And these are her people. It won't matter what they've done, only that they need help in a time of great desperation. And of course he'll help them. He's Ezran, and he's Katolis's greatest treasure.

Oh, what's that you say? Inviting the Moonshadow elves to settle in Katolis again would make it easier for Rayla to live with Callum in the future? Oh gosh, how about that? What a deal. *smug matchmaker noises*

And once the Moonshadow elves understand that they're safe and begin to trust Ezran--which could happen very quickly, because saving a Moonshadow elf's life when you didn't need to is a really fast way to prove you're trustworthy--maybe Ezran will be encouraged to take the next step toward peace, and eventually other elves and dragons will come to meet together to talk it over. And Ez will offer them jelly tarts, which they will love.

Back to Ethari, because we're not done with him yet. Ethari is soft, but he isn't weak. He won't be a willing pawn for Viren. He loves Runaan to the point of invention, and his devotion is more constant than the moon itself. He'll agree to do what Viren says, and he'll be Very Sad. But his spirit is in no way broken. Viren bribing him with the coins containing his family will only have the opposite effect. It'll give Ethari something to fight for.

We could get Focused Chaos Ethari. We could get Angery Trickster Ethari. We could get Rules, What Rules? Ethari. Let him try to steal the coins, try to break them, try to kill Viren, and be stymied at every turn, until he settles and seems cowed. And then all he does is craft his way out of the problem. What if we are gifted with Iron Man Ethari, who pretends to build a fake Key for Viren, but meanwhile he's really building a coinbuster with whatever he can get his hands on - primal stones, magically imbued gemstones, stolen artifacts, his own arcanum, his own reputation as the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. He'll use almost- almost - anything, to stop Viren and free his family.

Ethari may have to choose between those two things, though. And he's a hero, deep down, just like his family, just like his daughter. If he has to choose, he'll choose to stop Viren and save Xadia. He'll pay the same price as his family has if he must.

He'd let Viren think he was motivated purely by wanting his family back, but Ethari is far too steeped in the illusion and sacrifice for that to be all there is to his motives. It's a so-close-and-yet-so-far thing, how he and Viren almost embody the same ideals. Almost. Ethari would take one look at Viren, who just burnt down his whole Forest, he'd see the biggest threat in Xadia, and he'd say anything to get a chance to stop this juggernaut of destruction from getting his hands on whatever that ultimate power really is, locked behind that missing key. If he has to abandon his people and bawl his eyes out to convince Viren he's in, then he will.

And Viren wouldn't make it easy for him. He knows clever when he sees it. He went through all this trouble to persuade Ethari to work with him. He would need to keep Ethari as off-balance as possible to ensure that he keeps working as he should.

Angsty jewelry, anyone: Viren giving Ethari his husband in pendant form to remind him what he's working for, when Viren and Ethari both know full well that only dark magic can open the hellcoins. Ethari wearing another pendant of his love, except it's not a metaphor this time. It's literally his love, in a coin around his neck.

Viren would know that Ethari would have to stay close to Viren of his own free will if he ever hoped to free Runaan. And making people bind themselves to you is a big power flex. Remember that TDP stream future-season teaser note about Bait being in a creepy restraint in a future season?

This card is written on in all-caps, so that really could be "Bait" or "bait," or--knowing this show--both. Viren's been using Runaan as bait for Ethari all along. Putting his coin in a dark magic pendant casing for Ethari to wear would be a great parallel for that. Oh god. Oh man.

Maybe he'll stab the coin's scary casing right through that circle on Ethari's chest, right over his heart, make that Iron Man reference really obvious. Ethari also losing his shirt at some point, for angsty Viren-related reasons? It's more likely than you think. I mean... Ethari is literally involved in both forms of forging at this point. Shirt's gotta come off for uhhhh work reasons. And because he's hot. Because of all the forging. I mean how else are we finally going to discover what his markings look like

I mentioned that I liked god-tier villains, right? Yeah, this is amazing. I haven't wanted to die and ascend over an idea for quite a while, but Ethari vs Viren in a drawn-out battle of wills would kill me in the best way. Especially since, while it looks like they're essentially fighting for who gets Runaan, they're truly fighting a much larger battle with much higher stakes. They're fighting for the future itself. It's an epic struggle between the Narrative of Strength and the Narrative of Love. And we've seen what happens, over and over, when the Narrative of Strength gets to call the shots.

On a meta note: If Runaan and Ethari's story arc isn't a love letter from one trauma survivor to another, and on a broader scope to all survivors who see it, I don't know what is. Sometimes life just chews us up and spits us out and we can't stop it and it breaks us. But sometimes we can reach out and grasp the chance to help each other, even after that, even when it hurts a lot, because we know what it means to be loved, and to love, and to want a safer future for each other and for people we'll never meet. The future is worth standing together for, helping each other back up for, fighting side by side for, even if you can't see how it'll end, or even how to begin. We are stronger together, and sometimes we need to fight for our "together" before we can fight for anything else. And that's worth it, every time.

This is glorious, it's beautiful, it's tragic, it's amazing, it makes me want to dance, it makes me want to scream into the void, it makes me want to slap someone with a semi truck. No, someone specific, don't worry, and he super deserves it.

Because Ethari is going to win. He was always going to win. He's soft, and he's clever, and he hasn't forgotten what love means. It's what he's fighting for. Not power, not control. Love. He doesn't want to dictate Runaan's future, or anyone else's. He just wants his husband--and everyone else--to have one at all.

So he's going to win.

What beating Viren looks like, I can't guess yet. TDP is no stranger to angst, so there will probably be a high cost involved in thwarting the dark mage. Maybe not everyone can be rescued from the coins. Maybe Ethari will lose his life, or his soul, or his vision, or something else really angsty. Viren could even kill him and resurrect him as a smoky craftsman, or a zombie craftsman, or something equally biddable but horrible. The only thing I'm sure of is that Ethari would never willingly make a working Key of Aaravos Ethari as long as there's a chance Viren could possess it. But I do believe that if he gets the right opportunity while he's busy saving the world from Viren's dark intentions, he'll break his husband's hellcoin open somehow and set him free, even if he has to smile at the devil to do it.

part 4

[bikerjongho]

stradivarius in flames | kim hongjoong

genre: supernatural, action

character: violin demon hunter!hongjoong

description: Hongjoong is a demon hunter that specifically fights and kills demons trapped inside violins, and now he’s tasked with destroying a multi-million dollar Stradivarius violin.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of a gun, fire, demons

author’s note: inspired by this post. and hold onto your horses @scriptura-delirus​ >:)

The train that was taking Hongjoong to the orchestra concert was late. And dressed to the nine's in a black suit, buzzed hair flat and elegant, and gun tucked neatly in his coat pocket, Hongjoong couldn't have been angrier. He had a violin to steal and burn.

Hongjoong was slated to have arrived at the concert venue an hour before the concert. Now, with twenty minutes past the beginning of the concert and still a few more miles to go due to an accident on the tracks, it was an understatement to say that he felt robbed by the train's service. Never in his life had he had a more important job to do.

Had this been a normal violin, had this been a normal demon, Hongjoong would have dropped the gig as he sat. But this was no ordinary violin, and this was no ordinary demon. A Stradivarius violin, one of only hundreds made and made by what connoisseurs say was the greatest violin maker of all time, Antonio Stradivari, was Hongjoong's target for this night. Worth millions, any violin made by Stradivari was heavily coveted and admired. Hongjoong had to make sure this one burned in flame.

And the demon that had implanted itself into this violin, while not much different than other demons that inhabited violins, was worrisome on its own purely by its ability to get its demon hands on a Stradivarius. He had a theory that demons favored violins because Satan's instrument was violin.

Hongjoong didn't know how these demons managed to inhabit violins and cause trouble. But the simple fact was that they did, and Hongjoong was there to stop them.

He had been in the business of banishing demons from violins for years. The actual banishment of the demon was easy enough - he just had to throw the violin into a fire. The hard part was actually obtaining the violin.

And sometimes, even that part was easy. Over his years at this job, Hongjoong found that demons preferred to inhabit smaller violins. Thus, he would appear at elementary schools to steal and destroy tiny and monstrous violins from orchestra rooms. Sometimes he stole violas. Less often he stole cellos and basses because they were too large and bulky for a demon to ever inhabit. Hongjoong was grateful for their preference, their liking to Satan. It would be nearly impossible to steal a bass at any time of the day or night.

But most of the time, stealing violins was a painful and difficult job. He no longer felt regret as he stole stringed instruments from homes, from venues, from schools, because of the damage the demon worried him more than a sad violinist ever could. Nonetheless, it was still painful to watch students sob over their stolen violin. Many times, he stole them at night when the demons were most active, silently breaking in and swiping the violin before anyone could notice. But all the same, he had his fair share of chases, fights, and prices placed on his head.

If demons were left in the violins, their energies and mischief would disrupt the living world. Hongjoong knew of people that had lost family members from these violin demons, which motivated him to keep burning violins on days he hated his job. And although he himself had never lost any family members from these demons, every day he walked on a tightrope, afraid he was one step away from slipping and losing someone he loved.

Hongjoong had his balance, at least for tonight. But as the train slowly moved closer to the Stradivarius, he couldn't ignore the knot that was forming in the center of his chest.

In the meantime, Hongjoong mapped out a plan in his brain for nabbing the violin. Even if it was a Stradivarius, it would have been infinitely easier to steal while it sat unused in its case before the performance. The fact that it was now being played and security guards made sure no one else could get into the theater to see the performance was yet another hurdle for Hongjoong to jump over. He silently cursed the accident that had prolonged his ride.

Alongside the security guards, the demons tended to act up the most when the violin was being played. What mischief it did exactly varied from demon to demon, but black mist and objects moving on their own accord were a staple of violin demons. Hongjoong tried not to think about how impossible this task would be, even if the violin wasn't a Stradivarius. Though, he did have a few tricks up his sleeve - it came with being rather practiced at magic and the police of all things supernatural.

Hongjoong had a few sets of magic marbles lined in his coat pockets. To the unobservant eye, they looked like regular marbles, but upon closer inspection they shimmered with magic. If Hongjoong threw one onto the floor, the magic inside it opened. Some created roaring flames, while some were able to transport him a couple hundred feet from where he stood. Others created smoke, and others slowed time. He didn't have any time ones, those were harder to come by, but the other three he had in full stock and was fairly certain he'd use them for this case.

Hongjoong mulled more in his seat about the marbles and his plan on getting the Stradivarius while the rest of the passengers on the train chatted merrily to each other, their thoughts free of demonic violins and magic marbles.

His thoughts were just pulling together into a ridiculous, yet perhaps doable plan, as the train slowed and stopped before honking its loud whistle as an arrival. Hongjoong stood up immediately and felt around for the concert ticket in his pocket. It was still there, and that was his way in. He hoped they'd let him into the performance even if he was late, but he was also capable of breaking glass and violating a few security rules. He hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

At last, Hongjoong was inside the concert venue, sweaty and tired after running continuously to reach it. He had considered using one of the magic balls to transport him to the venue faster while he lost his lungs running, but since the concert had started already, it didn't matter. He had already lost enough time.

His sweating and panting came in handy when he reached one of the workers that collected tickets. "I'm so sorry, my train was late," he gasped and handed over his ticket. "Pray that I can still watch the remainder of the concert?"

"It's no problem," said the worker, not unkindly, and led him to the entrance to the audience. Hongjoong adjusted the gun in his coat. He doubted he would need to use it, but he had it for protection. He was smirking, but gave a kind smile to the worker as she turned to let him into the auditorium.

As soon as he was let into the auditorium, he was hit with the repulsive and pungent scent of demon that he had grown so accustomed to. The black demon mist hung over the auditorium like a terrible omen. He was relieved to see that nothing else seemed disturbed, and no one else could smell hell itself or see the mist in the air. Everyone was too focused on the violinist that was playing her heart out on her awful violin.

Hongjoong had selected a seat directly above the violinist, just in case he had to watch the performance. The violinist's golden dress shimmered while she played, and to Hongjoong's horror, the demon was quite visible from the violin's f-holes. He had to get down to the stage immediately, even if it was going to cause a ruckus, even if it was going to scar everyone in the theater, even if the violinist was playing beautifully on a legendary violin.

One moment, he was sitting as a relaxed patron, watching the violinist perform. The next, he had swung himself over the safety railing and landed on the stage, smoke magic ball coming just before him and coating everything near with smoke and hiding Hongjoong.

"I'm sorry," Hongjoong whispered to the soloist underneath the screaming and gasps that had ensued from the crowd before kicking her feet out from under her and yanking the violin out of her hands. The bow clattered to the floor as the violinist screamed as she fell, but Hongjoong didn't need it.

And then he ran. He ran, carrying the violin that was worth more than his life and could pay off all of his debts tenfold. He ran off of the stage and into the backstage, where he quickly found an exit door after zooming by workers that were too startled to try and stop him. The screaming and thundering of multiple people close behind him made his heart jolt and his hands work faster. He thrusted open the door, and then the demon began hissing and screeching.

It would not stop hissing and growling, so Hongjoong held the violin close to his chest and pressed hard. He felt the wood crack and the bridge fall off, which quieted the demon. A shot rang out from behind him, making him run even faster into the night. He struggled in his pockets for the marble he needed, then threw it to the ground.

The transport marble - Hongjoong slipped away from the crowd of security guards without a trace, walking through the wavy air it created before it threw him a couple hundred feet forward. He could still hear and see the guards if he looked closely from where he had moved, but they'd never find him from here. Humans couldn't move that fast. And while Hongjoong was human, he had danced and gambled the line of supernatural for years. The screaming demon inside the Stradivarius he was holding was proof of that.

Even if Hongjoong was out of sight from the security officers, there was still a lot of running to be done. After all, the fire he was to create couldn't give away his location.

So Hongjoong ran. He ran through the forest, letting brambles and sticks scratch himself and the violin and his coat and his shoes and his pants while he ripped off the tuning pegs of the violin. Something about tearing apart the violin, breaking it and making it unplayable helped silence and weaken the demon. He pitched the pegs onto the ground as he ran and kept running, his legs burning like he had dropped a fire magic marble inside of them.

At last, Hongjoong couldn't hear the security guards anymore. He squeezed the violin against his body to crack it a bit more one last time to silence the demon's useless whining before pulling out a fire magic marble and throwing it onto the ground.

An inferno erupted from where the ball was, and Hongjoong was quick to toss the Stradivarius into the fire. Upon contact with it, the demon screamed turned to black steam steaming from the violin, and the violin's golden body turned black as the fire ate. The fire danced in Hongjoong's expressionless eyes as he watched the flames lick up the priceless wood and the demon that had tried to make a home in it. He had seen this exact scenario more times than he could count, but this one was different. The Stradivarius was an artifact, a treasure to the musical world, and he had destroyed it.

But the demon was a treasure from hell, sent to destroy and cause havoc on Earth. The orchestral snobs would simply have to get over their million dollar loss. As the flames licked up the last of the violin, Hongjoong gave a small smile. He was good at his job, he knew it, and the power that came with destroying demons was addicting. To know that he had the power of destroying otherworldly creatures in the blink of an eye made some deep and innate hunger blossom in the core of his stomach. The fire licked at the fiery strings in the flames and casted hellish figures on his skin. He savored this moment, for it would go away soon.

At the sudden noise of shouts, Hongjoong took one last look at the flames and took off, once again running but free from his task. It was evil, it felt evil, to ruin such a priceless artifact and to be a felon and menace, even if it was to destroy a demon.

But the feeling it gave Hongjoong ate at him like flames to kerosene. He'd never stop.

[alarawriting]

Writeober 2020 #21: Dragon

How to Care For Your Pet Human

Congratulations! You’ve made the decision to adopt a human. Humans are excellent pets – intelligent, loyal, longer-lived than most other pet animals, and hypoallergenic, producing far less dander than the average mammal or bird. But they can be a challenging pet to care for as well. Here’s what you need to know to keep your human healthy and happy!

Committing To A Human

Like any pet, a human wants a forever home it can stay in for its entire life. Unlike most pets, a human can live for close to a century, if well cared for. It’s a big commitment! Make sure you’re ready for it.

Humans are incredibly intelligent, and if you do not provide sufficient enrichment, they will find it… one way or another. Everyone’s heard a story about a dragon who left their human alone in their lair, only to find the human gone after they returned. There are very few predators that are dangerous to a human, so if you don’t smell that another dragon has invaded your lair, and your human is missing… they found a way to escape whatever enclosure you had them in, and they may never return. Don’t let this happen to your human!

Humans are also incredibly social. If you’re not willing to take on more than one human, you must find a petsitter when you nap. The isolation of being alone while you’re asleep for a year or two may kill your human – and, of course, humans need food and fresh water every day, so you’ll need to make arrangements for them to be fed while you’re sleeping. We also recommend strongly that if you cannot care for more than one human, you frequently bring your human for play dates to a friend with a human, or a human rescue center.

Most breeders and rescue centers will be able to tell you if your human has the trait of “introversion.” Such humans are valuable and may cost significantly more, because introversion allows a human to be left alone for much, much longer than the average human. An introverted human can get all of their social interaction from you, as long as you provide enrichment for them to entertain themselves. You’ll still need a pet sitter when you sleep, but you don’t have to take them on frequent play dates. Other humans without the trait will be stressed by the lack of human companionship even if you interact with them frequently. We strongly recommend that in general, if your human is not introverted, they will be happiest with a human companion or two. Because they’re low-allergenic and they’re (for the most part) very clean animals, and because they enjoy socially sharing food, most dragons find that it’s easier to care for multiple humans than it is for just one!

Human Nutrition

Some dragons claim that humans can live on a purely carnivorous diet. While this is technically true, humans are obligate omnivores – they must consume vegetable matter to get all the nutrients they need – and they will die much younger on a purely carnivorous diet. So no, you cannot feed your human nothing but scraps from your kills.

We don’t recommend human chow. It’s well balanced for human nutrition, but firstly, most humans crave variety in their diets, and if you don’t provide it to them, they’ll go hunting for it… which may result in them being accidentally poisoned! Secondly, one of the most entertaining parts of keeping a human is watching them handle flame to process their meals into something they find easier or more palatable.

Yes, we did say flame. Alone of all animals, humans are adept at managing fire! Of course, they’re just as vulnerable to it as any other animal, and they can’t breathe it, but if you breathe a spark onto some charcoal or wood for them, the majority of humans will be able to maintain the flame, and will use it to prepare their food.

Remember what we said about variety? Humans can eat many foods that no other animal will touch, or that only insects and other invertebrates care for, because they can use fire to make some foods edible to them. There are tools you can purchase and provide to your human to make it easier for them to do this.

The healthiest diet for most humans is approximately a third meat, with the remainder being grains and vegetables. Give a human a haunch of pig, and watch them roast it slowly over the flame you gave them! They may even share their food with you – humans enjoy providing food to anyone they love and trust.

Your human probably loves fruit. Give it to them occasionally as a special treat, but don’t let them have access to too much of it. Humans who gorge on fruit usually suffer digestive problems as a result. And while they usually keep themselves clean, humans who’ve consumed too much fruit may have accidents. Do not punish your human for such accidents; firstly, it’s probably your fault, because you let them eat something they shouldn’t have, and secondly, your human already feels shame over their accident and will try to avoid having them if they can.

Humans and the Outdoors

Human lack of fur, except on the top of their heads and a few other specific places where they concentrate pheromones, helps to make them distinctive in appearance and gives them a great deal of heat resistance. But there’s a price they pay; they’re more vulnerable to ultraviolet burns from sunlight than creatures with more covering. You may be tempted to keep your human inside your lair all the time, safe from ultraviolet light, but most humans actually require a certain amount of sunlight to maintain their happy, energetic dispositions!

Pale humans are more vulnerable to sunlight than darker humans, but any human can suffer ultraviolet burns. Your local pet store or apothecary can provide you a compound to put on your human to protect them… because humans enjoy being outside, and will stay outside to play much longer than they should. Humans’ delicate paws, with dexterous opposable thumbs, are usually better at applying the compound fully, so if the human doesn’t spontaneously put the compound on, you may do it once or twice. After that, let your human apply it to themselves.

If your lair is close to water, be careful with your humans and supervise them outdoors! Unlike most non-aquatic animals, most humans enjoy playing in water, and their layers of fat make them buoyant… but they don’t usually know how to swim, unless they were born at a reputable breeder that allows them to spend at least twelve years learning from their mothers. You may consider paying for swimming lessons for your human, but even an experienced swimmer may be taken by surprise by an undercurrent, so supervise them.

In fact, in general, your human is very curious and will explore its territory as far as you allow it to… so supervision outdoors is always a good idea. While a full-grown adult human isn’t in danger from most predators, there are some – large cats, bears, wolves – that present a serious threat to them.

The greatest threat to your pet human may be a wild human. Wild humans roam in packs, and they will usually either kill a pet human, or steal it. Either way, if wild humans get too close to your pet, you will never see your human again.

Treat your human as part of your hoard; don’t let it out of your sight when you’re outdoors.

Should I Leash My Human?

In a word, no. Humans dislike being leashed, and with their extreme intelligence and dexterity, they will find a way out of the leash.

If you do choose to leash your human, always use a harness, not a collar! Humans’ evolutionary adaptations for the wide variety of sounds they can make result in them having weak and vulnerable necks. It’s very easy for a human to choke, and a human leashed by the collar will die if they fall any significant distance while on the leash; it will break their necks.

Nothing can substitute for supervision!

But what if you’re too busy – or too sleepy – to supervise your human as often as they need outdoor enrichment? No worries, there are several strategies to help you out!

Enclosures are not one of them. No matter how cleverly designed your human enclosure is, a sufficiently determined human will find a way out of it. It’s going to require giving up a lot of your time or a little bit of your hoard to make sure your human gets sufficient outdoor enrichment in a safe way.

-          Human care centers: In a human care center, your human will get social interaction with other humans, constant supervision, and all the enrichment it needs, including outdoor time.

-          Pet sitters: Most pet sitters are experienced adults, but even an adolescent dragon can usually be trusted to supervise a human, and many of them are looking to add a little bit to their hoard.

-          A supervisor human. Yes! You can rent a human to supervise your human! Supervisor humans are trained especially to keep watch over other humans and keep them out of danger. Many supervisor humans can even provide first aid for an injured human!

Occasionally you will encounter a human that is very content to stay in one place, or even one that doesn’t like going outdoors. If your human doesn’t like going outdoors, make sure it has sufficient indoor enrichment, including activities they can engage in to get exercise. Get your human some play equipment. They love climbing, swinging, sliding, exploring tunnels, swimming or bathing in safely enclosed pools, and throwing things, especially things that bounce. If you give your human a bouncing ball, they may get hours of entertainment from it… and if you have more than one human, expect to see them play together, and even make up contests with rules!

Mental Enrichment

Humans, as mentioned, are very, very smart. You must provide your human mental enrichment. But what kind of enrichment is best for them varies widely, depending on the human. Some humans enjoy having a pet of their own – dogs and cats are popular, and they will eat your scraps. Some like to use dyes and paints to create pictures on stone tablets; some like to use clay to make shapes. Some use their amazing vocal talents to sing, or mimic sounds they hear. And many humans enjoy watching other humans – provide them a crystal ball that connects to one viewing other humans, and most humans will be mesmerized.

Your human will also probably spend a great deal of time stimulating its genitals. This is normal. Humans are actually constantly in a mild form of heat or rut, and are almost always ready to mate. This produces a great deal of physical tension, which they alleviate with their hands. If you have more than one human, they will probably mate. This is true no matter what genders of humans in what combination you have.

Should I Have My Human Fixed?

That depends a great deal on your human, and what you hope to get out of them. Castrating a male human may produce a lot of behavioral changes, some of which you may not enjoy – an energetic and active male may become sedentary, for example.

There are multiple strategies to fix a female human. To fix your human without changing her hormonal balance and potentially disrupting her behavior, you can have her ovaries disconnected from her uterus (the mammalian organ she uses to gestate her live young). Or you can have her ovaries removed, which will end a painful bleeding cycle she undergoes approximately every moon cycle, but will also radically change her hormone balance. Your vet will be able to advise you on what might be best for your human.

If all of your humans are the same gender, we recommend not fixing them. They’ll satisfy each other’s mating urges, but they won’t breed.

If you do, in fact, want to breed a human, you should read our companion manual, “Breeding Humans.” Breeding a human is a very difficult and dangerous process that will change your humans’ lives forever. If you’re thinking that you may at some point breed your female human, but you aren’t sure whether you’re ready to support her through such a complicated process, you can get a medication from your vet that you can provide to her in her food, or train her to voluntarily take, and she will be able to mate with male humans without having young.

Fur Trimming

In most varieties of human, the fur on top of their heads needs to be trimmed occasionally, or it will become matted and unmanageable. For the males, the same is true of the facial fur.

Humans have difficulties trimming their head fur, and if you have only one, you will need to bring it to a groomer occasionally. If you have multiple humans, they will usually trim each other’s head fur, if you supply them the necessary tools.

A young male human will need to be exposed to an older male human to receive training in managing his facial hair for himself.

Training Your Human

Humans are incredibly trainable! They have a language of their own (several, in fact, just like dragons do!), and, if you breed a female human and end up with a human child, the child may very well learn to mimic some of your language or even learn to almost fully understand you! You can also purchase older humans who already have that trait.

Humans can be trained by being allowed to watch other humans performing a task. They can be trained by allowing a human who speaks their language to tell them about the task. And they can be trained in the same way as other animals, but are generally much faster to figure out what you want them to do.

In fact, every single human you have ever interacted with was trained by other humans. Humans have defective infants who lack most basic instincts, but do have the ability to mimic sound and learn language. A baby human must be cared for by an adult human; do not try to provide care to a baby human yourself, without a human who is experienced in caring for children present! Dragons have successfully taken care of baby humans as young as three, but doing so makes the child behave as if it thinks it’s a dragon, and makes it nearly impossible to mate the human or have another human train your human. Don’t do it. No matter how cute they are, you should never adopt a human younger than 12 unless you have humans who have cared for children in your possession.

By the way, both male and female humans can care for children – they are like birds in this way. An infant human must be cared for by a lactating human female, or, you must provide the human caring for them with human milk substitute and specialized bottles to feed the baby. But male humans are just as capable of caring for children who are eating solid food as female humans are. If you have somehow acquired a child who is too young to be without care from a human, you can often rent a human child carer to provide the care, or a couple of them. Couples are better, because caring for human children is stressful, and it’s easier when two of them are working together to do it. Be aware that if you do this, you’ll need to rent them until the child is twelve, and longer in some cases.

Why Twelve?

There are many specialized tasks that a human can perform for another human which are difficult for a dragon to do, from preparing and mending the artificial coats they must wear in most climates, to using fire to prepare food. Humans must learn almost everything they do, and there’s a lot to learn!  

Twelve is generally the youngest age at which the child is prepared to do the things humans must do to survive and thrive. In fact, many humans benefit from being allowed to remain with their parents for longer, and are usually happiest when adopted after they are fully grown adults… but children are adorable. We confess we’ve adopted our fair share of human children, just because they are so cute!

If you have an adult human or two already, you can adopt a young human without doing them much harm. Most adult humans are happy to train younger humans in any number of skills humans enjoy learning. In fact, if the human or humans you already have are experienced with children, you may be able to adopt a very young child, but be careful. Most humans will bond to some degree with any child, and most humans who are experienced with children are very good with them… but some just won’t bond to a young child to the degree that child needs for optimal care, and some bond, but are not careful or responsible enough to leave a young child in their care.

What If My Human Won’t Learn What I Want From Them?

Occasionally you’ll encounter a human who just can’t seem to learn a particular skill. This can happen for several reasons:

-          The human you found to train your human doesn’t speak the same language

-          You are very bad at demonstrating to your human what you want them to do

-          The task is one that that particular human finds very hard, often for physical reasons

-          The human knows how to do it perfectly well and is just stubborn and doesn’t want to

A qualified vet can usually diagnose the reason why your human is having difficulty.

Some dragons believe that if they limit enrichment to the tasks they want the human to learn, it will facilitate their training. Nothing could be further from the truth! If you have arbitrarily limited the tasks you will allow your human to perform, and prevented them from performing ones they enjoy, they will become resentful and angry, and often will start refusing to perform for you. Always leave your human plenty of free time to play and engage in the activities they choose, even if you are training your human as a service or performance animal!

What Do Humans Need?

Here’s the basic, minimum amount of stuff you need to care for a human.

-          Water dispenser and hand-held human water cups. Humans don’t lap water from bowls; their heads are poorly designed for it. Give them a dispenser that provides them clean, fresh water whenever they like, and water cups to pour the water in. They’ll drink from the cup, holding it in their paws.

-          Food bowl or plate: Humans are very prone to diseases from food contamination, so provide them with many of these or wash them constantly. You can train a human to wash their food bowl or plate themselves.

-          Bed: Humans’ bipedal stance causes back problems as they age, and almost all humans prefer to sleep on something soft that cushions them – children prefer it because it makes them feel safe, and adults prefer it because a stone or dirt floor is hard on their bodies. Don’t expect your human to sleep on the floor like you do. Get it a bed.

-          Clothing: Unless where you live is very warm, humans require artificial coats to replace the ones they don’t have. Speak to a vet, a pet store employee, or a dedicated human clothier to find out what kind of clothing your human needs for your climate.

-          Shelter: Most dragons need this too, and a lair usually provides shelter from the elements that is perfectly adequate for a human. But if your lair is exposed – for instance, if you den outside in a desert – you will need a separate enclosure to shelter your human. They don’t have scales, or even feathers or fur, so the sand in the wind will harm them.

-          A plan for letting them have access to other humans they can play with. Humans have excellent memories, almost as good as dragons, and they form strong attachments. For most humans, you’re better off giving them a small but stable number of other humans they have opportunities to play with than to constantly expose them to new humans (although some humans do enjoy that!)

Enrichment is vital for humans, but some of you have lairs that already provide all the enrichment a human could want, with plenty of climbable handholds, tunnels to explore, underground lakes, etc. Others may need to purchase toys and other enrichment equipment. Make sure what you get is age-appropriate; a twelve-year-old will love a climbing frame, but if you’ve adopted a fifty-year-old from a rescue shelter, it will not enjoy that nearly so much. Older humans tend to have already learned a set of tasks they greatly enjoy performing for fun, and a reputable rescue will be able to tell you what your new mature-years human’s favorite activities are.

Your hoard can be a form of enrichment. Hide items from your hoard, and if the human brings them to you, praise them and give them treats. Because they can go into smaller and deeper tunnels than you can, at their small size, humans may find gems or ore in underground caves, and if you’ve trained them to bring your hoard back to you, they’ll bring you whatever they find.

Tools to prepare their own food are also a form of enrichment. Some humans prefer not to do this and will eat human chow. Don’t try to force a human who’s uncomfortable with food preparation to do it; they may not have been trained in it, or they may have been burned at a young age and are afraid of fire. But if your human makes use of a firepit and a stake or spit for holding food above it, they will probably enjoy other food preparation tools as well!

Your Friend For A Lifetime

Treat your human well, give it the enrichment, social interaction, and food variety it needs, show it attention and care, and your human will be a truly loyal pet until the day it dies.

Make sure only to get your humans from reputable breeders or rescue shelters. Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to capture and tame a wild human! This has occasionally resulted in packs of wild humans with sharp metal tools descending on a dragon’s lair, injuring or even killing the dragon! If you don’t interfere with the wild humans, they will leave you alone, but attempting to take one as a pet can bring the whole swarm of them down on you.

(At this point, generally someone brings up the legends of wild humans leaving adolescent females out for dragons to take. This does happen sometimes. No one knows why the humans reject certain females, but the behavior of leaving adolescent females usually happens when dragons encroach too closely on wild human territories, and seems to be an attempt to bait dragons away from the dwelling spaces of the rest of the humans. These females are typically traumatized and do not make good pets if they have not been rehabilitated. Take such a female to a rescue, and stop foraging for food near the wild humans; the next step, if their sacrifices of adolescent females don’t lead you away from their territory, may be to try to swarm and kill you!)

While there are definitely challenges to caring for them, humans do make wonderful pets who will bring joy to the lair of any dragon who adopts one. You and your human will make an amazing journey together, and sometimes, your human may even teach you things you didn’t know about yourself.

Enjoy your new human, and take care!

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 34

I was locked in the bathroom, where I’d retreated and redressed, when Negan finally had enough of my shit. I heard the lock tumblers roll and then he had the door open and was looming in the frame. Damn it. Why was he so adamant that I NOT lock the damn door if he had a fucking way to unlock it?

“Are you through with your tantrum, Jessi?” His eyes were flashing, but he didn’t sound pissed. Weird.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What if I’d been naked in here? What if I’d been using the facilities?” I glanced at the toilet. “What if I’d been in the shower? What if-”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” He huffed out a breath. “It ain’t like I haven’t seen what you’re packing, sweetheart. You’ve met my fucking wives.”

“Yeah, I like to think that we women aren’t ALL THE FUCKING SAME!” I glared at him. “And speaking of ‘dramatic’, what’s the point of telling me not to lock the fucking door if you could just fucking get in anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking easier to get in, if I don’t have to fucking pick the damn thing.” He gestured for me to get my ass out of the bathroom. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

I brushed past him and grabbed my boots. Once I was ready, he tossed on his jacket and grabbed his best friend, the bat, and whistling led the way outside. The shit we had to do, apparently was oversee the supplies coming in on trucks.

I’m standing beside Negan, fulfilling my duty as his shadow when I hear the shot ring out. Gunfire? Looking up and keeping pace with Negan, we find my little brother holding a machine gun and demanding Negan’s head.  Well, I didn’t see that coming.

Carl killed two Saviors before D tackled him. I’d stood by Negan, his shadow. I could have sworn that I felt a bullet ripple the air next to my head. Did my brother nearly kill me in his quest to take out Negan? I’d felt pretty damn lucky when the target himself used a Savior as a human shield instead of me, but to die at the hands of Carl, well that would have just been pretty much keeping with my life so far.

Did I hear Negan right? Did he say Carl was ‘adorable’? I was going to end up dead. Definitely dead simply because I seem to surround myself with men who find the violence we’d been forced to learn to treat as a normal part of life"cute" or "fun". And then, Carl was given the grand tour, with me Negan's shadow along for the ride.

I should have been bored, or irritated, but I hadn’t really been there when he’d given me my own. I could have done without watching him play king on high on the catwalk addressing his subjects. Seriously, I could live to be a thousand years old and pray that the image is erased from my memory by some magical means and not miss it. Fresh veggies for everyone, without points deduction. Negan doesn’t want his people to get scurvy. Let us all give praise, “Amen.”

Respect. He thinks that the people cheering because he’s granted them free carrots is respect. Yeah, I'm pretty confident that I’ll be regaining full access to the lovely nothingness of my inner sanctum.

We end up back with the harem. They look like dolls, which I hadn't noticed before. Dressed almost the same, just sitting there waiting to serve their master. I gag internally. Carl looks pretty interested. Great. Wonderful. Now that I’m paying attention, I notice one of the wives takes Negan aside, Sherry the one who'd introduced herself to me. And then I watch him approach another one, and give her a talking to for, wait, she cheated on him? Jesus, am I in Melrose Place?

And then I watch as the wife that stepped out on him assures her 'husband', that she loves him. OK then. This isn’t fucking surreal at all. Then he basically makes out with Sherry. Did I trade my life to watch soap operas play out constantly? Please God don’t let it descend into porn.  Why couldn't he just have put me out of my fucking misery?  

Negan leads the way into his bedroom. And he glances at me to be sure I’m right on his fucking heels. Of course I am, I think, did you assume I’d stay with your concubines and mingle?

Negan sits and gestures for Carl to take my seat. Well, the seat I’m usually grilled in. I go to take the chair next to my brother, but Negan stops me and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. Really? I have to slip past his legs and share personal space to get to the open spot. Too close for me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but he takes my hips in hand and shifts me over, forcing me to glance down at him and his casual touch. Ugh.

I sit and wait to see what punishment Carl is going to get for the deaths of two of Negan’s men. Wasn’t that what had caused Abraham’s death? My dad and the others killing his men? I wish for the numbness, because right now I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll have to watch something horrible happen to Carl.

Negan orders my baby brother to remove Dad’s hat, and the bandage that covers the horrible crater that Ron had created with that damn bullet. I watch as Carl tries to argue against it, but as I suspected, this is part of his punishment. Negan reminds him of the two men he killed, this is the price he has to pay. Carl flashes me a look, is he pleading for me to intervene? Or is he begging me not to look? He takes off Dad’s hat, and then unravels the bandage and my heart lurches. My poor baby brother. And Negan? Far from the compassion he’d shown me at first, taunts him. Telling him how disgusting it looks. And I close my eyes so I can’t see Carl’s pain or his tears.

Negan must notice that I’m taking it as hard as Carl, because I feel his fingers brush my hands clasped in my lap, and then he apologizes to my brother.

A knock comes to the door and I open my eyes. No one ever comes to Negan’s room. At least no one had since I’ve been here. It’s a rotund man whom Negan addresses as ‘Fat Joseph’. Charming, I think, fat shaming as a nickname. He was carrying the bat, which apparently has a name. Lucille. And I have to listen to the weirdest exchange over a weapon that I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Negan is speaking about this piece of barbed wire wrapped wood as though it was a woman. And again I feel pretty damn certain that with him leading me through ‘recovery’, I’ll be back to my numb self soon.

The Savior is dismissed. Negan returns to Carl. He tells him that his eye is badass and he wouldn’t cover it. That seeing my brother’s scar would make sure no one fucked with him. My eyes fall closed again, when Negan demands that Carl sing him something. Again, Carl tries to object, and again he’s overruled. When Carl starts singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ I cannot stop my tears. Dear God, another crack to what was left of my mask. I feel his fingers brush my hands again, but I keep my eyes shut.

Lori. She used to sing that song to us when we were little. And Carl held on to that memory. Even after- They’re talking about her, about what happened. I can feel my heart clench. Feel my fear ratchet up at the thought of Judith. Carl tells Negan that he’d put her down, and my throat is burning from the pain of it. The memory. Negan offers that he understands why Carl’s gonna end up a future serial killer and I bend my upper half, folding in on myself.

I feel a hand on my back. It’s huge so I know it’s Negan’s. I’m fighting a building sob, and I try to focus on the fact that he’s trying to comfort me, and not on the fact that he created the situation he has to comfort me through. I fight to regain my composure, and he tells Carl and I that the ‘iron is ready’ and we leave the suite. My arms are wrapped around myself, and I’m desperate to find it. My darkness. The comfort of nothing.

Downstairs, a man is tied to a chair with the fire of a furnace burning before him. Negan gives a speech about rules. Their importance. And I look around at the gathered people. The wives are lined up in front. D is reaching for an iron tucked into the flames, and then before it happens, understanding flows through me in a shock of horror. It’s how his face was scarred. It’s the punishment. And then it happens. The man tied to the chair, the iron, and the scent of burning flesh.

My chest is heaving as I pant for breath. I can’t seem to get any air. Why can’t I breathe? I hear the buzzing of Negan’s mocking voice. I hear a buzz mentioning forgiveness. I hear a buzz, but nothing clear. And I’m still fighting for air. Negan returns to Carl and I. I’d forgotten my little brother had seen it too. Then Negan’s hand is tilting my face up, and he’s saying something because I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear them, the words.

“Breathe, Jessi, breathe.” It’s Carl’s voice, breaking through the static. I focus on his words, and I work to calm myself.  Focus on drawing air in and letting it out. Until finally, I can hear the sounds of someone mopping. Of the scraping of a chair across the concrete floor.

When I’m breathing normally, we return to Negan’s rooms. And somewhere, downstairs, my brother’s gotten his confidence back. He taunts Negan for not killing him. Or Dad. Or Daryl. And I can feel his eyes on me, silently adding me to the list. Instead of proving Carl wrong, Negan invites my baby brother to take a ride with him.

I almost believe that I’ll get to stay behind. Alone to fall to pieces or to find my way back to the numbness, but I’m not that lucky. I’m included in the invitation. We take a cargo truck. And I’m put between Negan and Carl. I have a flicker of fear that this is going to be the last ride I’ll have, that Carl’s brash action has doomed us both.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Robin’s Requirements Summary: The name’s Robin,” the kid said with Dick’s smirk and Jason’s accent. Bruce felt ice crawl up his veins. He was going to throw up.Robin number three wasn’t human and Bruce didn’t know how keep going after Jason’s death. They make it work (after a rough start). AN: I decided to put up all the chapters I’ve posted of this story so far in proper order on tumblr since some people prefer reading here. Here’s the AO3 link to the story! I update weekly!

Chapter 1

Summer in Gotham was almost unbearable. The smoke and ashes lingering in the air mixed with the heat radiated from the asphalt to create an atmosphere that made it difficult to breathe or even just move in. In-between the tall skyscrapers and the houses squished into spaces much too small for them, you got the closest you could be to the experience of boiling to death without actually dying.

Winter may freeze your limbs, break away one finger after another, but summer’s heat, similar to the blast of an explosion, burned away your skin.

The summer nights appeared to be the much kinder, softer counterpart to the day time for the poor creatures who had to make their way through dark alleys.

It was a farce.

Gotham wasn’t kind, she hadn’t been in a long time.

The coolness of the darkness lulled you into a false sense of security. You were exhausted already, scared of the shadows too maybe if you weren’t used to them, or if you knew what lingered beyond them, but at least death didn’t await you in the sun’s divine punishment.

A logical but wrong assumption.

Grim hunters stalked the dark, waiting for you to slip up, to make a mistake.

Or at least, they used to be there to sink their teeth into you.

For the longest time Gotham had been protected by three guardians, predators, but nowadays you only ever spotted one of them, and if you did, you were better off to slice your own throat, or so they said.

Nobody had ever attempted to deny that meetings with the Bat could get bloody, especially if you provoked him. Still, they didn’t used to look like a war zone, entrails spread over the grey asphalt as empty eyes judged you for all the horrors you committed. The Bat used to be kinder, more forgiving, more understanding.

He wasn’t anymore. He had broken like Gotham had so many decades ago.

He still protected the weak, the needy, the helpless, but he no longer fought for the damned.

Instead of being their ferryman, he brought them directly to hell. It wasn’t death, not yet, but by the time he was done, you would wish for it.

People wondered what had changed right up until the Joker nearly choked on his acid laughter in the Bat’s arms, laughing about little songbirds cut up so badly you couldn’t tell the red of their feather coat from their blood.

It made sense then that the Bat would start to lose control. Everybody knew that the little Robin was off-limits. You try to could hurt and maim him, or break him for sure, these were the rules of the streets, and if he wanted to fly through them, he had to acknowledge them, but only ever as long as the Bat was your actual target.

You did not target Robin, Gotham loved him.

(There was a price to be paid for his death.)

X

“Duke, honey, it’s time for bed!”

“I know, Mom! Just five more minutes!”

Duke Thomas considered himself to be a regular ten-year-old. He loved video games, Star Wars, his Mom’s cooking, his Dad’s jokes, and, above everything, Robin Spotting. It was so much fun to stay up late, hoping to catch a glimpse of that colorful uniform or hear the joyful laughter.

Duke had actually seen Robin once too, on his fire escape. The hero had smiled at him and then put his index finger on his lips, indicating for Duke to be silent. Caught up in his excitement, Duke hadn’t even been able to speak to the hero or do anything but stand at his window, jumping up and down. He had watched as Batman caught up with Robin and the duo had flown away, Robin pretty much glued to Batman’s side.

The alley beneath Duke’s window was dark and dirty, but the heroes had been able to light it up.

And now Robin was gone.

Duke couldn’t believe it.

The police hadn’t said anything about Robin’s disappearance. Duke checked the news every day when his parents weren’t watching him too closely, lest they start thinking he wanted to watch those instead of his cartoons, hoping to hear about something interesting that wasn’t economics. However, the papers had plenty to say about Robin. His Mom called them ‘gossip rags Duke was better off not paying too much attention to’, but he had read them regardless.

The papers claimed Robin was dead, said that the Joker had killed him.

Duke was sure they were lying.

Robin was magical, Robin couldn’t die.

(But the Joker rarely appeared to be human either.)

Maybe somebody just had to remind Robin that he was still needed here. Duke sometimes got so caught up in his thoughts, he forgot to do his homework. It was probably something similar for Robin

“Duke, lights out!” His Dad said when he passed by Duke’s room.

“Just one more minute!” Duke pleaded, not even looking up from his desk.

“Alright, alright.” Dad laughed. “But you have to tell me what you’re writing.”

He entered the room and stepped closer to take a look at the sheet of paper Duke had been writing on, but Duke quickly pulled it to his chest to hide his scribbles.

“No! You can’t see it! It will take away the magic.”

You didn’t show your parents the letter for Santa either, or it wouldn’t get to Santa. Of course, the latter wasn’t real, but Robin was. And honestly, there were rules about this kind of magic – his parents should know them.

Dad just raised his hands in defeat, still smiling in amusement.

“Okay, buddy, but tomorrow you have to share with the class.”

Duke frowned, unsure whether that would be enough time for Robin to get his letter.

“Later,” Duke yielded. “Once I know it worked.”

Dad’s smile softened and he patted Duke’s shoulder.

“Only one more minute, then bedtime. You have school tomorrow and I don’t want to get another call about you falling asleep in class.”

Duke huffed, but couldn’t hide his happy smile. “That was only once!”

“Once enough. Sleep well, kid.”

“Night, Dad.”

Dad walked out of Duke’s room, closing the door behind him so that Duke was staring at the Justice League poster pinned to the wood. Batman needed Robin, so Duke would remind the short hero that he had to come home.

He quickly finished his letter, packed it in transparent cover, and hid it away in his Super Secret Special box. It was actually just a shoebox he had painted yellow and orange and decorated with plastic gemstones, but Duke loved it. Then he turned off the light and crawled into his bed. Duke took his alarm clock from the nightstand and set the alarm for a few minutes before midnight. He wasn’t sure whether twelve o’clock really was the right time, but it seemed very important in a lot of movies, so Duke figured if he had to choose, he might as well go with this time. If he succeeded, he’d maybe write to the police as well, tell them how to contact Robin since the Bat-signal only worked for Batman.

Falling asleep when he was so nervous turned out to be a chore. It felt just like the evenings before his birthday when he could hear the blood rushing through his ears and it kept him awake for as long as possible.

Duke managed to sink into sleep sometime after his parents had gone to bed as well. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d drifted off right until his alarm rang again and Duke woke up startled. Tiredly, Duke crawled out of his bed and put on his socks to minimize the sound he made. He picked put the box and began tonight’s journey.

When he opened the door, he winced at the jarring sound. Even if he tried to be as slow as possible, the door refused to stay silent. Duke halted to listen if his parents still slept. His father’s snoring turned out to be a rather practical way of measuring it. Thankfully, his parents also didn’t wake when Duke stole the house keys out of his mother’s purse. With his box in hand, Duke sneaked out of the apartment and headed towards the stairs leading up to the rooftop.

The air inside the staircase was stuffy, receiving no circulation whatsoever. On tiptoes, Duke walked past the doors of his neighbors, being exceptionally careful when he passed the apartment of Ms. Norrington. She was, in the words of his usually calm and kind mother, a mean old witch, except she hadn’t said witch, but another word starting with a ‘b’ that Duke was too frightful to repeat. The old lady and her ugly little dog always watched Duke and his friend with her mean big blue eyes, especially when they were carrying toys. In Ms. Norrington’s opinion, there was nothing more terrible than children playing and having fun. One of these days, she wouldn’t even wait until Duke had made a sound, she’d just snatch his football away as soon as she would spot him. Therefore Duke needed to pass her without alarming her.

One step, another, a third and a fourth and Duke had done it. Victoriously, he rushed up the remaining staircases to the rooftop. If his parents knew that he was up here, they’d ground him for sure. None of the kids in the apartment block were supposed to go upstairs because the fence surrounding the roof hadn’t been fixed in ages and someone could get hurt or, even worse, fall off the roof when playing.

Duke thought it was stupid. He wouldn’t ever be dumb enough to fall off a house. However, that hadn’t stopped the adults from locking the door between Duke and his goal. But for that purpose, Duke had snatched his mother’s keys. His own keyring only had the keys for the front and backdoor, one for his bike and one for his Cousin’s home. His mother, on the other hand, did possess a key for the top door.

The lock was rusty and the key wouldn’t turn properly when Duke tried to open it. Duke bit on his tongue in concentration as he twisted the key multiple times until finally, after what felt like ages, the door clicked and opened.

Duke slowly closed it behind himself again, as to avoid the wind pushing it into the lock again with a loud BAM! Certainly, old Ms. Norrington would wake from that. Duke would just have to hurry and be finished before she managed to get out of bed, put on her pink shoes, ugly old and gray bathrobe and made it to the door.

Gotham was an ugly city according to the news, but Duke had long since learned not to trust them. Sure, the city could be a bit cleaner, but monuments like the shining WE building or the green Robinson park in the distance were signs that Gotham wasn’t as shitty as people claimed. The breeze here up on the rooftop was quite enjoyable too. They should tell their landlord to repair the fence quickly so that Duke could play Batman and Robin with his friends up here. That would be way cooler than going to the playground. Here they would be up on a real rooftop and didn’t have to pretend the monkey bars were the top of the Crystal Palace. Thinking of his two heroes, Duke reminded himself of his mission.

He looked around for the best spot to put his letter and settled on the water tank. A short ladder was leading up to it and so, with his box secured under his arms, Duke began to climb. He slipped nearly once or twice, but always managed to catch himself at the last second.

Once he reached the top, he allowed himself to sit down just to catch a quick breath. He was working on a schedule after all.

Duke set his box down next to him and took off the cover, revealing his letter to Robin and his most prized possession: a Batarang.

He’d found it in the trash a while ago and ever since he had the supreme right to always play Batman if he wanted to. He hadn’t told his parents about it because he knew they’d take it away, even if Duke didn’t take it outside his room usually. Why would he? He didn’t want it to get stolen by others!

Duke reached for the Batarang and then traced its edges with his fingers. It was still sharp, if he wasn’t careful he’d cut himself.

Duke didn’t have a Bat-signal, but he also didn’t want to attract that much attention. He was sure that if he just scratched something in the wooden surface of the water tank, Robin would spot it sooner or later. With the sharp side of the weapon, Duke began to scratch a big R into the wood. He made sure his carvings were deep enough that they’d be seen from above.

Then, with as much might as Duke could measure up, he rammed the Batarang through his letter into the wood so that it wouldn’t just fly away when left unsupervised.

There, his work was done.

Content with himself, Duke allowed himself to observe Gotham for a little while longer, forgetting Ms. Norrington for a moment. He wouldn’t get a sight as neat as this one again in a long while.

Duke climbed down from the water tank and returned inside. He made it past Ms. Norrington’s door and slipped into his apartment and room, his parents still sound asleep and none the wiser of Duke’s little adventure.

Yawning, Duke pulled his blanket over his head. It was sad that he had to give up his Batarang, but maybe he’d get a new one once Robin returned. And Duke didn’t mind playing other heroes.

After all, now it was really just a question of time.

X

Beneath him, the city was wide awake, even during such late hours. He should probably return to the Cave for tonight, he didn’t have any supplies besides the one lone Batarang. While he was sure that his wit alone would suffice to support Batman, a utility belt filled with all kinds of tricky equipment would be immense support, never mind much more fun.

He was already on the move, heading home for the first time, when Gotham started screaming for help. Her shouts spoke of fear, of a terrified mother scared for her children’s safety.

Somebody was threatening her - who?

Batman wouldn’t approve of it, he was sure, but generally speaking, it wasn’t his job to listen to Batman. He was there to support the Bat and, more importantly, keep Gotham safe. He couldn’t do that from the Cave.

With a wild grin, he jumped from the rooftop, executing a perfect landing on the balcony of the next house. Quickly he moved forward, making his way through the cold September air to come to Gotham’s aid.

He was Robin.

He had been born for this.

[neuxue]

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 49

Rand sees a city and climbs a mountain

Chapter 49: Just Another Man

I feel like it’s been a while since we’ve seen the Avendesora leaf chapter icon. The Dragon and the Wheel have rather dominated this book, which makes sense all things considered.

Chapter title drop in the first few sentences:

He was just another man walking in the streets of Ebou Dar.

All signs thus far seem to point to a more contemplative and therefore a less kill-everything-with-fire sort of chapter, but at this point, with Rand, you really can never be sure.

As long as a person wasn’t able to channel, he or she could find stability here. Safety.

That’s a pretty major caveat.

On the other hand, it’s hard to blame those who can for seeking that stability and safety here, given the whole…*waves hands at the map* situation.

Anyway, Rand finally gets to have the pleasure of visiting Ebou Dar, because you really wouldn’t want any of our protagonists to miss out on that lovely place. Plotline. Thing. Perrin, you don’t know how lucky you are (though in fairness he got Malden, which was just as bad).

They were his enemies. They were conquerors. He felt their lands shouldn’t be peaceful. They should be terrible, full of suffering because of the tyrannical rule.

No, that’s your lands.

Though, again, it’s not quite as simple as that. But as to the overall impression of a place…yeah. Rand’s looking for something that stands out immediately as ‘enemy’. As ‘evil’ or ‘wrong’, as something he can cleanse with merciful fire and feel justified in it.

And they’re not giving him that; it’s like those arguments where one person is itching for a fight and trying to bait the other, who just remains absolutely serene and unyielding so that everything is absorbed or glances off, and it’s both effective and absolutely infuriating.

Not unless you could channel. What the Seanchan did with this group of people was horrifying. Not all was well beneath this happy surface. And yet, it was shocking to realise how well they treated others.

That’s pretty much it in a nutshell. Look too closely and yeah, there’s some horror there (not to mention slavery), but for so many others it’s a shelter from the storm. And what was that Rand said a few books ago? I am the storm.

Enemies are not always perfectly straightforward, not always perfectly evil in every action and consequence. And, conversely, allies are not always perfectly good and perfectly morally aligned with you on every point. Sometimes it’s a choice between atrocities, or a question of fixed-term tolerance, or truly just an enemy-of-my-enemy situation. Sometimes it’s very much a matter of perspective, and a question of what can and should be endured, and to what ends. Sometimes, it’s just…messy and human and complicated.

Tinkers camped outside the city in large groups. Their wagons had not moved for weeks, and it seemed they were forming villages. As Rand moved among them, he’d heard some of them speak of settling down.

Because they’ve found a place of safety. They’ve found what they were charged with finding, thousands of years ago. Considering that, and the history of their people (and who and what they fled from and because of), that’s…not insignificant.

Last night, Rand had listened to them at one of the campfires. They’d welcomed him in, fed him, never asking who he was.

There’s no real subtlety to this, but subtlety isn’t really what Rand needs right now—nuance, yes, and a hell of a lot of complicated introspection, but not subtle hints—and I almost read this as the Pattern itself making one last push at Rand to fix this, realise what’s happening, take a step back before it’s too late, remember who you are and what you’re doing. Because it’s falling apart and he’s falling apart and it’s so close to being too late, too far, too much.

Also, this is lovely regardless of whether it’s an obvious morality play or not. For the Dragon Reborn to be welcomed as just another man in need of fire and food and friends by the people his own past life’s actions cast adrift is rather poetic.

And representative of human goodness and compassion and so forth, fine, yes, that too.

He’d kept the dragon on his hand hidden and the access key carefully tucked in his coat pocket, looking at that fire burning down to coals.

I see what you did there.

Fire as something gentle and warming even as it’s allowed to burn down peacefully, rather than as something hard and bright and almost cold, destructive and full of terrible mercy.

Also, ‘dragon’ singular. So which one is it? Once the dragon for remembrance lost, or twice the dragon for the price he must pay? Which one has he lost? (What hand shelters, what hand slays?) Is the one that was burned away representative, even then, of the price he must pay? The dragon marking and his own hand, pieces of himself lost and sacrificed as the cost of what he must do and who he must be? Or has he lost that remembrance once more, lost who he was and where he came from?

He’s lost one of his herons as well—which one? Actually this I could find out, because he got them at different times. Once the heron, to set his path…that was his right hand, wasn’t it? In which case that’s still there, the first symbol of setting him on this path and of his task, but if he’s lost twice the heron, to name him true that’s rather fitting, because it’s almost like how he’s lost his way, lost that certainty of naming, of self, of who he is. He’s faltered without really knowing it, without ever taking his eyes off that path, and he has to find his way back—has to name himself true once more.

Or maybe I have it backwards and you can ignore all the threads of meaning I’ve just tangled up like a cat. I do that. (And then, also like a cat, I look up from this absolute mess I’ve created expecting praise for my beautiful artwork).

He hadn’t ever been to Ebou Dar itself

Oh trust me, YOU’RE NOT MISSING MUCH.

Rand could remember what it was like to live as [the Tuatha’an] had. In the visions of Rhuidean, he had followed the Way of the Leaf. He’d also seen the Age of Legends. He’d lived those lives, the lives of others, for a few brief moments.

He has lived far too many lives (and seen far too much) for someone barely past twenty. Lews Therin’s past, the Portal Stone alternate realities, Rhuidean…

And that’s not even getting into all the people he currently shares his mind with.

In a way it’s no wonder he’s tried to shut down his capacity for empathy, and his capacity to feel at all.

On the other hand, the Dragon is one with the land, and this is a more metaphorical take on ‘land’, but he has experienced the lives of these people, of people other than himself. He walks among them now as ‘just another man’ and he comes from just another village and if he can remember that this is what the whole thing is about, this is what he’s fighting for, these are the people he’s trying to save and he is just one of them, maybe that’s what he needs.

(Let’s just ignore the grammar of that sentence taking a random left turn somewhere in the middle).

The Tinker also gave him a walking staff, which Rand used as he walked, slouching slightly.

Ah. Didn’t Perrin have a vision of this, back in TSR? I had almost forgotten about that.

And now we get to the real issues here.

He had nearly killed his father.

Yeah, that.

He hadn’t been forced to by Semirhage, or by Lews Therin’s influence. No excuses. No argument. He, Rand al’Thor, had tried to kill his own father. He’d drawn in the Power, made the weaves and nearly released them.

This is almost a perfect echo of what I thought when he did it. It’s a different sort of lowest point than when he nearly killed Min, and then killed Semirhage arguably in self-defence, because it was his choice. He wasn’t being controlled or manipulated; he just reached a point where that seemed like an okay thing to do. Because he has let go of so much of himself, has told himself he’s already crossed the last line, that nothing he does matters. So why hold back?

And the fact that he realises this is precisely what shows that there’s still hope for him, still a chance for him to come back.

That, and the fact that for all he made that choice and wove balefire, in the last second he didn’t go through with it.

But YES, Rand, FOLLOW THIS THOUGHT.

Rand’s rage was gone, replaced by loathing.

I mean, fair, but also at some point you’re going to have to deal with the self-loathing and maybe forgive yourself if you’re actually going to move past this.

He’d wanted to make himself hard. He’d needed to be hard. But this was where hardness had brought him.

YES GOOD KEEP GOING. FINALLY.

Lews Therin had been able to claim madness for his atrocities. Rand had nothing, no place to hide, no refuge from himself.

What shelter is there from the storm, after all, when you are the storm?

Still, even mixed as they are with self-hatred, these are some pretty key realisations for Rand, at last, to come to. To look at how far he has come, and where he is now, and what he has made of himself, and to finally question. To look at what he has become and let himself feel that horror, rather than shutting it away and trying to hold together for just a little longer.

He has, for a long time now, needed something to push him to this point, something to break through that ever-harder shell he was encasing himself in, and the longer it took the more impactful it was going to have to be.

But nearly killing his own father, by his own choice, has finally forced him to face what he’s been running from this entire time: himself.

On a much lighter note, I appreciate that Rand is basically ignoring all the sights of Ebou Dar. Good choice, Rand.

Tinkers were safe here, but Rand’s own father wasn’t safe in his empire. Rand’s friends feared him; he had seen it in Nynaeve’s eyes.

And finally he’s letting himself actually think about this, rather than noticing it and letting it just glance off of him. His father is less safe with him than with those he considers his enemies. Nynaeve, who has stood by him through everything, is afraid of him. And finally, finally, he’s starting to let that actually sink in as something that is not simple necessity but something that is utterly, deeply wrong.

Also, ‘empire’ is an interesting word for Rand to use, there. I mean, he’s not wrong. But…yeah.

A man in a colourful silk vest jostled Rand on the street, then offered a lengthy, overly polite apology. Rand hurried on, lest the man want to start a duel.

That would probably not go so well for the man.

But the first thing that flashed into my head here was Charn getting knocked down in the street, in the Rhuidean visions. I wonder if that’s deliberate.

This did not seem like an oppressed people.

Okay, but that’s sort of…difficult to see at a glance. And also there’s the slavery thing. So yes, I get what you’re going for here Rand (and Sanderson/Jordan), but there’s a weird undercurrent of ‘there is no war in Ba Sing Se’ going on here as well. So it’s an effective point, but also a creepy one if you look too closely.

I sort of wonder if there’s another layer to the point that’s being made here, which is not so much that ‘things are better off under the Seanchan than under Rand as he is’, because that’s…dubious, but more…playing off of the chapter title again. Rand is ‘just another man’ here, amongst these people whose lives he so briefly lived and witnessed (and destroyed). And the Seanchan, too, are…just another people. Rand has brought some good to the nations he has conquered, and some destruction. The Seanchan have brought stability and safety and slavery. Neither is perfect; both are deeply flawed, but both are also ‘just another’, in their way. It’s almost like a ‘not so different, you and I’ except the differences are part of the point, to emphasise that different can be both better and worse, but at the end of the day they are allies in the war of humanity against annihilation.

And also that it’s messy and nothing is simple and you can’t just solve all the world’s problems by making moral judgements and executions by balefire.

It’s a point along the lines of ‘we’re all just human’.

And it’s a point that, in a weird sort of way, comes back to the idea of redemption, which is kind of what Rand is struggling with right now in reference to himself—is what he has just done unforgivable? What about everything that came before? This was his choice, and is thus his responsibility, and ‘what am I doing?’ ‘No more than I’ve done before’. On the individual, introspective scale: is there something in him worthy of redemption, something worth saving? On the broader, external scale: is there something in the Seanchan worthy of redemption, something worth saving? Is that kind of redemption possible?

So you get this back and forth where he’s looking both inwards and outwards and while he doesn’t connect them in his thoughts except to hate himself, there’s that unifying thread, which is the concept of redemption and the dualities of good/evil and salvation/destruction, and the questions of how far is too far, and is it possible to find a balance?

The Seanchan have done terrible things, and Rand has done terrible things, and is there anything worth salvaging of either of them? And so we get Rand hating himself but also looking around at the good things the Seanchan have done, which kind of…allows you to complete the rest of that parallel.

He didn’t want to confront what he had nearly done back in the Stone.

No kidding, but at this point Rand I really don’t think you have a choice.

Rand couldn’t focus on that. He had not come to Ebou Dar to gawk like a farmboy.

Rand al’Thor if you shove this away and encase yourself in that illusion of cuendillar again I will reach through the book and also reality to kick you in the balls.

He had come to destroy his enemies! They defied him; they needed to be eliminated. For the good of all nations.

Damn it, Rand, stop it. Look around you again, let yourself actually process those thoughts, stop turning to balefire as an easy solution. One monstrous act does not give you licence to continue with more and you know that.

But if he drew that much power through the access key, what damage would he cause?

GOOD FUCKING QUESTION. MAYBE ANSWER IT BEFORE YOU DO WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO DO.

The promising thing, here, is that even if he won’t admit it to himself, he’s stalling. Hesitating. Letting those other thoughts in, even if he tries to push them away a few moments later. Taking the access key out but not quite unwrapping it. He doesn’t want to do this, and some part of him is holding him back with whatever is left of his willpower and self.

It felt so odd to be just another foreigner. The Dragon Reborn walked among this people, and they did not know him. To them, Rand al’Thor was far off.

To Rand al’Thor, Rand al’Thor is far off.

But…yeah, he hasn’t had this kind of anonymity since, oh, sometime in TSR probably, if not even earlier. He’s tried once or twice, but it never lasts and never really works.

And so here, while in mind he’s about as far from the Rand we first met as it’s possible to be, externally he’s almost back where he began. Just another young man trying to find his way in a new place.

We’re getting all these contrasts, all these meetings of opposites, and it’s representative in a way of what’s going on in Rand’s mind and self, and again the surface level of what’s going on here isn’t subtle (and isn’t intended to be), but there’s so much beneath that to dig into and I love it.

They would not know Rand until he destroyed them.

Oh, Rand.

That’s also one hell of a line, but…oh, Rand.

They wont’ know him until he destroys them, but they’ll hate him until he saves them, and that’s part of this hand he has been dealt and this role he must accept.

It would be a mercy, Lews Therin whispered.

Oh.

So we’ve reached that.

Forgive me for calling this mercy as well. Then, at least (and this is grasping at straws here even so), there was a very very clear enemy. A clear evil he could aim at. Now…he names the Seanchan his enemy but he’s walking through these people who are just people, and recognising that despite the wrongs they have committed, the Seanchan have brought some good to some people’s lives as well, and still he allows himself to think that annihilation would be merciful.

When your hero can look at the world—even just a part of it—and think it would be more merciful to just end it…

Well, it’s almost exactly what Moridin has thought. So that should uh…tell you something.

And is it not exactly what the Dark One wants? To turn the Dragon without ever needing him to truly switch allegiances? He must know suffering. He must know pain of heart. And now he does, now he has, and this is where it has brought him. To a point where destruction and annihilation look like mercy, where life just looks like condemnation.

The Dragon is one with the land, and the Dragon wants death, and so it would be merciful to extend that to the land as well.

Death is always a mercy. The madman didn’t sound as crazy as he once had. In fact, his voice had started to sound an awful lot like Rand’s own voice.

Well…yes.

But again, Rand…follow that thought. Follow it, even when it hurts, because these are the things you’ve been pushing away and holding apart from yourself and even now you’re keeping yourself from these realisations that are hammering at the walls you’ve built.

The Daughter of the Nine Moons would be found in there. He could give those walls a purity they had never known, a perfection. That would make the building complete, in a way, in the moment before it faded into nothingness.

Wow, that’s utterly terrifying.

Note that he refers to Tuon by title, not by name. If he is just another man, is not she just another woman? Easier to use her title, to look at her as a representation of the enemy, as an abstract concept he can burn with merciful fire.

And now he’s just planning this destruction, this annihilation, slipping back into that cold and calculating and entirely emotionless place he was in before, forcing himself into it, thinking of nothing but destruction and his plan and Rand, no.

He unwrapped the access key, just another foreigner, standing on the muddy bridge. After destroying the palace, he would have to be quick. He’d send off bursts of balefire to destroy the ships in the harbour, then use something more mundane to rain fire on the city itself, throw it into a panic. The chaos would delay his enemies’ reaction.

The stark contrast here, between ‘just another foreigner, standing on the muddy bridge’ and…everything that comes after it is chilling and so perfect to capture the contrasts in Rand’s mind and situation, and the battle going on within him even if he doesn’t acknowledge it.

But also. Unleashing balefire, unleashing chaos, deliberately using these as tools…well, he’s following very well the orders the Dark One gave to Demandred, all those books ago. ‘Will you unleash the balefire in my service?’ ‘Let the Lord of Chaos rule.’ Why bother turning the Dragon when you can drive him to do this for what he believes to be his own cause, his own side?

What are you fighting for, Rand?

He vaguely remembered scout reports of supply camps to the north, well stocked with both soldiers and foodstuffs. He would destroy them next.

Just like it’s one thing to almost kill Min while being controlled by Semirhage and another to try to kill Tam of his own choice, it’s one thing to leave Arad Doman to starve when there’s very little he can do, and another thing to actively plan to destroy supplies for a city.

He’d Travel quickly, never remaining in one place long enough to be caught by the Forsaken. A flickering light of death, like a burning ember, flaring to life here, then there.

Wow, that’s…an image. Damn.

Don’t do this, Rand.

Saidin makes him even more sick and dizzy than usual, to the point where it’s briefly incapacitating, and I wonder if this is the Pattern’s last play, in a way. One last effort to get him to stop. The world itself resisting what he is about to do, what he is about to become.

He had to strike.

But he could not. The people looked so concerned. So worried. They cared. Screaming in frustration, Rand made a gateway, causing people to jump back in shock.

And so once more he brings himself right to the edge of what might truly be the last threshold, right to the point of absolutely no return…and can’t go through with it, and weaves a gateway in desperation.

Running from himself, as he has been running from and fighting himself for so long. Only now he can’t push through it, can’t brush it aside or silence that conflict within himself. He can’t harden himself to this, no matter what he does. And so he runs once more from himself, from what he wants to do and yet is absolutely terrified of doing, runs from his power, runs from what he has become, because he can’t let himself do this.

Why can’t I be strong enough? He didn’t know if the thought was his or if it was Lews Therin’s. The two were the same.

Because they are the same. Two different lifetimes, but Rand is the Dragon Reborn and the barrier between them has eroded and that’s what it means. Lews Therin’s past and Lews Therin’s mistakes are his, just as Lews Therin’s knowledge is his, because Lews Therin is him.

And I think, contrary to not being strong enough, Rand’s strength of self and will is what allowed him to run, here. To stop himself. He, Rand al’Thor, is strong enough that even when he has tried to push everything of himself away, he could hold on enough to keep from falling completely.

He’s Skimming rather than Travelling, and the ancient Aes Sedai symbol is all very symbolic (tautology is tautology), but where…

But Rand was necessary destruction. Why had the Pattern pushed him so hard if he didn’t need to destroy?

Destruction and salvation, Rand. It’s about the balance. Accepting destruction as a cost so as not to paralyse yourself, accepting that some things must be destroyed or changed or sacrificed, but without forgetting why. Destruction is not the end in and of itself. Necessary destruction, but to a purpose.

But once again he’s actually letting himself think about this, think about the limits he tried and failed to put on himself, thinking about what it means that he must destroy, trying to actually think through this. He keeps shutting some of it down almost reflexively, but now it doesn’t go away, and those questions and thoughts just keep coming back and he can’t run from them.

OH HE’S

THIS IS

HE’S HERE HE’S ON A FIELD OF SNOW AND ICY WIND AND

Here, the world spread before him.

RAND HAS COME TO DRAGONMOUNT.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS.

SINCE THE ABSOLUTE BEGINNING.

HE’S HERE.

He must stand on his grave and weep, and here he is on his grave, Dragonmount which was made by the Dragon’s dying, Dragonmount where the Dragon was reborn, Dragonmount which is both beginning and ending, where past and present and Rand al’Thor and Lews Therin meet and I’m. We’re here. This is happening.

Why have we come here? Rand thought. Because, Rand replied. Because we made this. This is where we died.

THAT.

RAND THOUGHT. RAND REPLIED.

All of what he says, as well, but mostly the dialogue tags.

Because it’s just…Rand. Rand speaking in the plural ‘we’, but no longer a separation between them because that barrier is gone. Because here, on Dragonmount, this place of death and rebirth (hope and despair, defeat and renewal, salvation and destruction), it’s as if he finally lets it go.

He’s just…himself.

He’s been brought to the point of catastrophe, the point of almost repeating Lews Therin’s past, and he has run from himself and been at war within himself for so long, and finally, finally it has brought him here, to this place that is ending and beginning, and if ever there were a place and time for Rand to finally truly accept who he is, and let go those walls, and stop fighting against himself and holding himself divided and letting go all that he is…it would be here.

I’ll refrain from quoting every last line of foreshadowing that’s led to this point (well, all those I can remember; no doubt that barely scratches the surface), but I can’t resist one: Rand could not imagine why a man would want to climb a mountain (The Fires of Heaven).

The dun sky was clouded above him. The ground seemed equally distant, barely visible, like a quilt marked with patterns.

The entire world, sky and earth, and fire in the chasm behind him. The Dragon looking out at the land, balanced on this peak that reaches into both his lifetimes. It’s a true point of balance, of unity, of everything drawn together.

He set the access key into the bank before him and wove Air and Fire to keep himself warm.

Then he rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands, staring at the diminutive statue of the man with the globe.

To think.

Staring, in a way, at a representation of himself. A man made of power, holding the world.

This is such a lovely, lovely image.

And such an excellent scene to finally see play out.

This is something the entire series has been building to, literally from the opening pages. Making a beginning out of an ending. Letting the story come full-circle at last. Bringing Rand along this path, until finally he finds himself here (yes, that is intended to have a double meaning).

And it’s…perfect.

No, it’s not surprising. But it’s an excellent example of something that doesn’t have to be. Something that, really, shouldn’t be. Instead, it’s satisfying. It’s the release of something that has been built up across twelve books, the fulfilment of a promise made in the first chapter; it’s allowing something that has been needing to happen for a very long time now to actually happen, at the exact moment in this long and tumultuous character arc that it most needed to happen.

Next (TGS ch 50) Previous (TGS ch 48)

[cursedmenagerie]

ℒ𝒶𝓈𝓉 ℛ𝒾𝓉ℯ𝓈

　　　A harsh gasp leaves the Penitus Oculatus soldier, garbled and spraying bloody spittle as they wheeze their final breaths. Their attacker draws back the spectral blade embedded in their neck and steps casually around them when they slump, lifeless to the deck of the ship.

　　　“On me! Don’t let them breach the Emperor’s ca- Hrk!”

　　　The tip of a wicked, obsidian sword pierces through the lieutenant’s chest before he can finish the order. Behind him a Dremora snarls. It wrenches back to cast off the deadweight from its blade and wastes no time gleefully rushing the nearest soldier. Another Dremora, slimmer but more agile, beats back a line of men attempting to block off the stern with ease, laughing at their futility. 

　　　Draped in black and red leathers the lone noncombatant marching the length of the deck could almost be mistaken for another of the daedra in the rush of battle. But they pay little mind to the fray unlike their bloodthirsty allies, focus narrowed to the far door leading deeper into the vessel. One brave fool breaks through the Dremoras’ ranks to charge the figure. A flash of sickly green blinds the woman. Her body seizes in place, dropping like a stone.

　　　“There’s no need to be hasty,” The figure chides her. Flames replace the green wisps around their outstretched hand. In her paralyzed state the soldier can’t even scream as fire sears her flesh. 

　　　Nearer to the galley door the corpse of the ship’s captain lays against the wall, and they pause long enough to rifle through the dead man’s robes to fetch a ring of keys. “Vas! Motal! Leave no survivors! It won’t do to have my appointment interrupted.”

　　　The only acknowledgement they receive from the Dremora are war cries.

　　　Inside the belly of The Katariah the sounds of fighting are deafened to a dull roar. Not a soul stirs in the immediate area, and every door stands flung wide as a testament to the frantic dash made to defend the ship; all save for one. This and its sturdy lock tell them all they need to know of what lies beyond. With keys in hand and the crew thoroughly distracted by their allies, breaking into the Emperor’s quarters is child’s play.

　　　Once inside, however, their tidy plans to murder him without mercy or misgivings fall to the wayside.

　　　Despite the years spent living in the Imperial City they had only seen the Emperor’s face a handful of times, and seldom within such proximity. After thirty-five years of ruling the Empire he was starting to show his age. Thinning hair gone gray, faint wrinkles that contrasted sharply to the last time they’d seen him. Youthful, for a grown human at least. But he still carries the same weight of responsibility that they recognized in his father before him, in the high-ranking soldiers tired of war, and that they now recognize in themselves. He stands at a wide desk, unassuming as he watches the figure enter.

　　　“And, once more, I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him you can't stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could.” Titus nods as if to himself, stepping around the desk. “Come now, don't be shy. You haven't come this far just to stand there gawking.”

　　　Every modicum of sense inside them screams that this must be a trap, and yet they step forward. Swayed by curiosity as to how he can face his would-be assassin with such calm. A question sits on the tip of their tongue, but the words fail to coalesce into a coherent sentence. The Emperor, oblivious to their attempts at speech thanks to the mask obscuring their lips, continues on. “You and I have a date with destiny, it would seem. But so it is with assassins and emperors, hm? Yes, I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is. But I wonder... would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?”

　　　Disbelief floods through them. For all the killing they had done for the Brotherhood a scarce few targets had ever resigned themselves to their deaths. Certainly none had ever asked to chat before being killed. Bold to the end. They could respect that, and so gave a nod.

　　　“I thank you for your courtesy.” He then begins pacing the length of the room. “You will kill me, and I have accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain... ambition. So I ask of you a favor. An old man's dying wish.” A pause to look back to the assassin. They move to lean against the desk and motion with a hand for him to continue. “While there are many who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whomever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?”

　　　Kill Motierre? The task would be simple. Simpler than killing Mede, certainly. But betraying their employer wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the Brotherhood. The organization’s reputation was already in tatters, and if it became known that they’d killed the man who had put a price on the Emperor’s head the Brotherhood would have a harder time convincing the public of their trustworthiness. 

　　　Still, there’s something to be said for putting a corrupt and uppity member of the Elder Council in his place. Were it not for Motierre’s greed the Brotherhood might still thrive, even if it would be under Astrid’s leadership. 

　　　“Very well. They indirectly led to the weakening of the Brotherhood, and so we have as much motive for retribution.”

　　　Titus slows in his pacing until he stands before them. The two meet gazes, and though they know he only perceives the illusionary disguise they had conjured up before infiltrating The Katariah they struggle not to squirm under his scrutiny. “Thank you. I can pass on to the afterlife with nothing left to regret. Now, onto the business at hand, I suppose.”

　　　“Do you have no desire to know who was the cause of all this?”

　　　A resigned sigh leaves him, and he inclines his head. “I must admit, when Maro revealed that he had a tip about the Dark Brotherhood being contracted to assassinate me I was curious to know who had ordered it. The idea of the Aldmeri Dominion being responsible was unlikely. They would want to take full responsibility of the feat. The Commander had even considered that the contract was made by a member of the Stormcloak Rebellion, and there were inquiries made, agents sent east to seek out who had hired you. But in the end I knew we would not find the person responsible.” He offers a genial smile. “Anyone intrepid enough to have the Emperor assassinated would thoroughly cover their tracks. If you feel willing to divulge, however, I would appreciate the gesture. For as little time as I have left, that is.”

　　　They fold their arms over their chest, letting their gaze wander around the ornate cabin. The sound of fighting that was faint in the main hall has since died away. Whether it is because their daedric companions have prevailed or because the thick walls mask the noise is uncertain, but they nevertheless feel at ease continuing to indulge the Emperor’s desire for conversation a bit longer. “You were right that the Thalmor are not involved. And Maro’s assumption was incorrect. He did not share much information about himself, but we know that he is an influential man from the Empire, wealthy and powerful. His name is Amaund Motierre.”

　　　For the first time since the assassin’s arrival Titus’ neutral demeanor wilts. The wrinkled lines of his face harden, though there is an absence of anything near to anger in his expression. Only disappointment. “Amaund… I can't say that I am surprised to hear it. He always had high aspirations, though he hides his unrelenting avarice well. And with Cassius so young… I imagine he believed the Elder Council would be free to take control of the Empire as they had in the past. Or perhaps he planned to vie for the position of Potentate. I can think of only a few Council members I would trust less with the fate of the Empire. Thankfully those few have never had the same sway as Motierre. Still, there will be squabbling all the same while they settle the chaos following my death; for years to come I would wager.”

　　　A wry smile tilts their lips behind the mask. “Nothing ever seemed simple when it came to the Council.”

　　　“Never indeed.” He raises a brow. “Have you had experience with the Elder Council? Ah, pardon me. I failed to consider you might not be at liberty to share. Though I suppose your secret would be going to the grave.”

　　　“That it would be,” They muse. They reach up for the mask, tired of the impediment in their conversation, but hesitate. Would this be a step too far? There still remains a chance that the Emperor has only been stalling for time, waiting for an opportunity to gut them when they have their back turned. They wouldn’t dare show their face on any other job, but so long as Vas and Motal do their jobs well, no one on The Katariah will live to tell the tale. And Titus has a point: anything they wish to share would die with him. 

　　　The mask and hood fall away with some difficulty, both made to hold their positions in any situation, but the illusion is easy enough to dispel. No longer does the mysterious leader of the Dark Brotherhood stand before the Emperor but an altmeri woman, crimson hair falling down her back to bleed into the red of her armor. “My experience was brief. My father became a member just before the Great War, that would have been the year 164. Perhaps you remember him. His name was Colnuril Nivuran.”

　　　“I believe I do. He was one of the more welcoming members of the Council when I ascended to the throne. I was disappointed to hear of his retirement so soon after the war, but I understood his decision. More than twenty-five years since and still there is distrust aimed at those who had nothing to do with the atrocities wrought by the Dominion.”

　　　“In the end it killed him.” She studies his expression, watching his eyes darken at the news. “He and my mother found a home in Riften; it’s hardly more than a shanty town, in truth. He contracted Blood Rot, Divines only know when. My mother encouraged him to visit the temple daily but there was little they could do by the time he admitted he was sick. He passed away three years ago.”

　　　“Ah… Such a pity. I hope his passing was peaceful, and that your mother is still well.”

　　　Sweet, ever obstinate Pyria, who had always been the most well-informed of their family, masking her interrogations with kindness and gifts. The assassin doesn’t realize she’s smiling until she sees it mirrored on Titus’ face. “Better than would be expected of a widow. Father was still fresh in the ground when she took up work in a friend’s shop, and after the rebellion began she was contacted by the Imperial Army to become an informant. Despite my advisement, she accepted. Mother has always had too big of a heart, and a great deal of loyalty to the Empire.”

　　　“But you do not?” He asks. His voice lacks any judgement.

　　　“I thought I did…” She turns away, memories of a chilly morning and rope around her wrists in her mind. The jeering, the glint of a steel axe, a sound like distant thunder. And then an inferno. “Maybe I still do, but I felt… Jaded. We spent weeks helping families flee across the border to Morrowind when the Dominion took the Imperial City. And I returned to it when the war had ended, wanting to help where I could. It didn’t feel like home anymore. Entire districts were burned or crumbling to pieces. So few would look me in the eye. And there were always more families looking for lost loved ones, begging for food that the shelters could barely provide. I couldn’t stay. And I hoped that by moving to Skyrim I could get away from the war, but a year later they were crying in the streets that Ulfric Stormcloak had killed High King Torygg. If you weren’t throwing your lot in with the Stormcloaks you were as good as an Imperial.

　　　“And then I made the mistake of saving a couple of soldiers’ lives. A pair of fools who had joined the Stormcloaks looking for glory in the wrong place. But I couldn’t leave them to be eaten by a sabre cat, so I intervened. They brought me back to their camp hoping to reward me, only to be ambushed by Imperials when they arrived. Everyone they didn’t kill was taken captive, including myself and Ulfric of all people. General Tullius did his job well. Maybe too well. If not for Alduin…”

　　　Her voice trails off, unwilling to relive that day in full. 

　　　“I recall the reports.” Titus nods. “An upsetting setback to find that Ulfric had escaped in the chaos. Tullius was furious, even if he did not say as much in his writings. But as far-fetched as the tale is these things happen, and in the end it revealed a rather important figure I believe the people of Skyrim owe a great deal to.” He levels an expectant look at the assassin. “Do they not, Aesatel?” 

　　　She winces, though she should have known he would be able to identify her. “They do. But I don’t feel much like a hero these days.”

　　　“Why, because you work for the Dark Brotherhood? Because you are here to kill the Emperor? I will admit it is hard to reconcile the different versions of you in my head. The daughter of an Elder Council member, then come to find that she is a Dragonborn like the emperors of old, and now revealed to be part of a murder cult.” Despite his grim words he surprises her with hoarse laughter. “But they are all part of who you are. Tell me, did being part of the Brotherhood inhibit your slaying of Alduin?”

　　　“No.”

　　　“And when you resolved to kill him what motivated you to do so?”

　　　Aesatel blows out a huff of air through her nostrils. “Because no one else was willing to. Not the Empire, not the Stormcloaks. And even when I found allies willing to help, I discovered that no one else could hope to defeat him but me. If I didn’t stop Alduin from destroying the world as we know it no one could have. By then… It wasn’t even a question of ‘why’.”

　　　Nodding slowly, he rests a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “We all possess flaws, and we all find ourselves at times misguided or on paths that may not align with what we perceive as moral. But at the end of the day we are defined by much more than our weaknesses. You, my dear, are blessed with a great many years left to define yourself. Do good where you can, and hold fast to your convictions.”

　　　For a moment it’s like the weight of two years has lifted from her weary shoulders. But the moment is cut short by the door being forced open and Motal’s guttural voice breaking the silence. “My Lady, soldiers approach from the harbor.”

　　　It was only a matter of time before the bloodbath would be noticed by the locals. Standing straight, Aesatel motions for the Dremora to leave. “Delay their boarding but stay out of sight. Once I’m finished here I will return you to your realm. Neither of you are to harm them, is that understood? I will not have the blood of Solitude citizens on my hands.”

　　　They make no show of hiding their disappointment at having to refrain from slaying the guards but do as commanded. When Aesatel returns her attention to the Emperor she finds he wears a look of fright mixed with awe. “There is so much more to you than meets the eye. I thought I had no more regrets when I accepted my imminent death, but I do. I regret that I will not be able to discover more.”

　　　Her breath catches in her throat. “Perhaps if we meet again in Aetherius.”

　　　“I should like that very much.” 

　　　She moves behind him and conjures up a spectral dagger. Already a fog has begun to settle in her mind. The haze of focus that has helped steer her towards what needs to be done for the Brotherhood, like an automaton guided by its programmed directives. But before it completely overwhelms her Aesatel speaks up one last time. 

　　　“Titus Mede II, may the Divines bless your soul and guide it true to the realm of Aetherius. By this blade your spirit be released, wielded by Aesatel Nivuran, the Sonorous Dovahkiin, servant of the Dread Father Sithis.” The dagger is raised, its phantom flames flickering in the dim light of the cabin. She wraps her free arm around his shoulders, partly to brace his body when the deed is done and partly to ground herself. Her voice drops to a shaky whisper. “I will kill Motierre. A life for many lives. I will do what I can to steady the Empire in your absence, though I fear it will not be enough. And I will end this war. Even if I have to kill Ulfric myself. On these oaths I swear my soul.”

　　　The Emperor breathes his final words of gratitude and surrenders to the dagger that pierces his heart. 

　　　What follows Aesatel remembers only in a blur. Steadying Titus’ corpse and placing it carefully in his regal bed. Fleeing to the aft balcony and being hit by the sound of shouting in the distance before turning herself invisible and plunging into the icy bay. But for as much as she would later try to forget the day of the Emperor’s death their final words and her promise to him would never fade from her memory.

[sheweapon]

                                THE WHOLE FUCKING FIRE.

                                            bellatrix hecate lestrange.                                                          thirty four. head of the                                                         department of magical                                                    accidents and catastrophes.                                            + daring, passionate, ambitious, clever.                                             - sadistic, two faced, cruel, unstable.                                                                death eater.

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name: bellatrix hecate lestrange occupation: head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes. former house: slytherin. date of birth: december 23. age: 34.

BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS:

So. It’s a cold December night, right before Christmas, and the Black mansion is shaken by blood curdling screams. It’s the kind that leaves you breathless, shivers running down your spine, leaving you with the sense that something is very, very wrong. Which, Druella Black fears that it very well might be —- because her (expected) son is four weeks early.

The birth is excruciatingly long and difficult for poor, poor Druella, but when the clock strikes eleven on the night before Christmas, a girl comes crashing into the world. She’s not what they expect, nor what they want, and she never cries — instead, she just watches them with those big black eyes that always seem to be appraising something.

-

Though Bellatrix’s birth was mostly an unwelcome surprise ( she came too early, and it was no secret that her parents had hoped for a boy ), she was also the first child to carry on the Black legacy, which was an honor. A necessity.

As a baby, she was small and meager. Nurses whispered about the Black baby that could barely muster a scream, that seemed so frail. Like she might break at any second. But that memory would soon fade and be replaced by a much more unpleasant one - because Bellatrix’s bones hardened, her skin thickened, her eyes grew meaner. Within a few years, any trace of that soft baby was gone, and instead, a cruel toddler took her place.

As a child, Bella was vicious. Biting, clawing, screaming and cursing were things she picked up fast, and she’d terrorize the other kids at the playground ( with an almost scary aim for her muggle born / half blood peers ).

Once she reached the age of seven, she calmed down a bit, and instead started following her father around ( and was lovingly referred to as his ‘little shadow’ ). Eager to prove herself, she learned everything that a son of Cygnus would have learnt. She was determined to show her father that being a girl would not stop her from becoming worthy of the Black throne, to carry his name with pride. Over the years of her childhood and adolescence, Bellatrix forged herself into the golden girl, a respectable heir in the making. Desperate to wear the crown.

Under her father’s influence, uncontrollable rage was switched in for an eerie quietness, anger instead boiling right below the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. She was so eager to please, to sculpt herself into whatever he wanted, so she suppressed her emotions the best she could, even though it never felt natural. And so, the nurses whispered again, but this time, it was about her sweet, sweet smile, matched with those mean, mean eyes. ‘Doesn’t it look distorted? Like that damn Cheshire cat. Something’s not right about that girl, I’m telling you. She came out wrong’.

Behind closed doors, Cygnus also encouraged Bella’s darker side. Introduced her to the dark arts and the chaos that she would later come to love so desperately.

Most of her childhood was characterized by harsh words, strict rules and high expectations. Her family’s reputation weighed heavy on her shoulders, constantly pressuring her to excel. Luckily, she shared her parents’ ambition and values, and had no problems conforming to their rule. Which also meant that she could get away with much else. As long as she remained the golden girl, Bellatrix could run wild and free.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Bellatrix had been duly prepped before arriving at Hogwarts. She was the first of their children to walk the halls, so it was important to both Druella and Cygnus that Bellatrix knew how to behave. Who to fraternize with. Who to avoid. Who was worthy of her time. Her parents had also made sure that she already had the appropriate friends — and play dates with other pureblood kids were a common occurrence when Bellatrix was younger.

At school, Bellatrix was popular —- the resident cool girl. The type of girl that hardly ever objects to anything, because she is always down to have a good time. The type of girl that loves Quidditch, dirty jokes and cheap beer. The type of girl that hides her true colors, at least for a while. Until she explodes.

So Bella kept out of trouble, for the most part. There were a couple…. incidents, with muggleborns. One or two may have been turned into rats and toads ( under the guise of it being a joke — can’t you take a joke, come on now? ). More serious things have been strictly forgotten by everyone involved. Powerful parents will do the trick. Mostly though, Bellatrix kept to her fellow Slytherins… biding her time. Waiting to strike.

She played for the Slytherin Quidditch team, as a beater, and was eventually made captain ( nothing less for a child of Cygnus, she must excel ). During her time on the team, she was notorious for her cruel playing style, her foul tricks, the constant smirk on her lips as other players fell to the ground.

And during her sixth year, she was eventually recruited into the Death Eaters. And with them, she found a second home, quickly rising through the ranks.

AFTER HOGWARTS:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Bellatrix took a year off from her studies. The official reason was that she needed to “find herself”. Whatever the fuck that meant. Obviously, it was a lie to hide what she was really up to. In reality, Bellatrix was at Voldemort’s side, learning leglilimency and occlumency, all the while developing her dark magic and her shitty personality.

Quickly became Voldemort’s personal attack dog, always willing to do his bidding, no questions asked.

At the age of nineteen, Bellatrix found work as an obliviator. Though the choice had ultimately been hers to make, the dark lord was always whispering in her ear, encouraging her to infiltrate the ministry. The goal was to have sleeper agents of death eaters in every department once it was time to go to war. It also helped that becoming an oblivator just made sense — fucking with the minds of muggles could already be counted as a hobby (albeit a twisted one), and she had always been good at taking things that didn’t belong to her… Memories would be no different.

Became a senior obliviator at twenty five, which was early, but still not early enough for her, you feel.

And so, at the age of thirty two, Bellatrix came to find herself as the head of the department of magical accidents and catastrophes. There, she got another taste of the power that drives her, that maddens her.

She is genuinely good at her job - even though she’s totally corrupt and obviously does most things in the interest of the death eaters.

Will occasionally throw pureblood galas, but isn’t too invested in them. They’re just for show.

Among the Death Eaters, Bellatrix is in the inner circle. She considers herself the dark lord’s right hand, and prides herself on being his most loyal servant.

Bellatrix also has a pet snake, lovingly named Medusa. We love her.

PERSONALITY:

First of all - Bellatrix is a fucking shit show and we all know this.

She is like night and day —– and her temper switches incredibly quickly, which makes her unpredictable, a little scary. She can go from the girl her family forced her to be - the Socialite, the Sophisticated Woman, the Cool Girl, to something far more sinister in the matter of minutes. Sometimes less.

When she’s at her worst, Bellatrix is cruel, sadistic, self righteous, impulsive, angry as hell, deranged, unstable, manipulative, a little bit unhinged, ruthless, playful, childish and absolutely lethal. It’s always brewing right below, so close to the surface, just waiting to come out.

But she’s also calculating, clever, quick on her feet, intensely passionate, fiercely loyal (until she’s… not), adaptable, intuitive and assertive.

Bella often contradicts herself — she has grown up believing that it’s best to be cold and devoid of emotions (#thanks dad), but she’s a highly emotional person by nature. She tries to suppress that as best as she can, but she usually boils over pretty fast. Other emotions are usually translated into anger as well, so that’s fun. I think the best way to describe her is that she’s just fire, always burning hot or cold.

Voldemort’s influence on her is also really important!! His influence poisons her mind, her soul, her heart. The darkness that was already there is amplified, becomes a thousand times worse. Though already a skilled witch, he introduced her to magic she could only have dreamed of — and that power became corruptive, addictive. For power, Bella would gladly pay the steep price of sacrificing her soul, her humanity.

Bellatrix really does think that she is in the right.

Also probably thinks that she’s better than everyone else at all times. There’s definitively an air of arrogance surrounding her.

Mrs Lestrange thinks that she’s invincible, and likes walking a little too close to the cliff’s edge ( playing with fire ). Will occasionally drop hints that she COULD be a death eater, but never goes too far with it. And if someone suggests that she is one, she acts like that’s absolutely outrageous. How dare you imply that I am affiliated with anything… !

Okay so, I am convinced that Bellatrix doesn’t reach peak evil + instability until after Voldemort’s fall and Azkaban, so I’m really trying to tone her down a bit and give the influence of her upbringing ( + her nature ) a bigger role in the person that she becomes. Hence why she is a little better at hiding her true colors, a little more refined. : ~ ) Though, she’s still the hammer ( doesn’t have the most finesse, mostly just likes getting things done, her technique isn’t exactly intricate, but ALWAYS effective ).

Even if most people probably don’t know that she’s a death eater ( though some probably suspect lbr ), she has a very intimidating presence. That’s her brand. And she still has that Weird Aura about her, like there is something that isn’t quite right, so that could also weird people out.

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE:

Bellatrix has jet black eyes and the hair to match. It falls in soft curls over her shoulders, down her back.

Usually wears dark red lipstick.

She hides her dark mark with a concealment spell while out in public.

Dresses mostly in black. Has to wear clothes that can fit into the muggle world while at work, occasionally, while out and about. While there, she wears a well worn leather jacket ( with shoulder pads, in true 70s style, we love a style icon ), and wide, black pants.

Files her nails into long claws, and paints them black.

Is tall. Likes towering over people.

Her cheekbones could cut a bitch.

AESTHETICS / VIBES:

black dresses, whispered hexes, broken champagne glasses, the calm before the storm, bullets caught between teeth, a constant paradox, skin stained black and blue, a devilish grin, ‘is that wine or blood on your carpet?’, snakes wrapped around wrists, mean eyes, always running hot and cold, a cheshire cat’s smile, soft laughter as the light leaves your eyes, divine violence, a taste of the approaching revolution / the new world order, quiet desperation, family heirlooms, unwavering loyalty, sudden fits of rage, emerald lockets, double lives, ‘would you still like me with my hands around your neck?’, no conscience, silent promises, taunting you with her very last breath, the hardest of hearts, dried blood on expensive clothes and a quiet conviction that this will all make sense in the end.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES:

amy dunne ( gone girl )

jamie moriarty ( elementary )

glory / glorificus ( btvs )

villanelle ( killing eve )

jennifer blake ( teen wolf )

klaus mikaelson ( tvd )

kilgrave ( jessica jones )

lilith ( supernatural )

drusilla ( btvs )

helena ( orphan black )

faith lehane ( btvs )

mazikeen ( lucifer )

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES:

SLASHER SMILE - a smile in anticipation of pain or death // a cheshire cat grin.

THE DRAGON - a monster the hero has to get past to get at the big bad. the top enforcer.

TORTURE TECHNICIAN -  takes the heroes and turn them into screaming, shinned shambles.

LADY MACBETH - frequently more crazy than her husband, quite the sociopath, in the business of turning men towards evil.

EVIL WEARS BLACK - duh.

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws herself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like she wants to die. never, ever retreats.

THE BARONESS - a female baddie with a chilly disposition and more than a touch of the dominatrix about her.

WICKED CULTURED - evil is intellectual // basically an evil aristocrat.

THE CHESSMASTER - thinking three moves ahead at all times. manipulating, planning, plotting.

DADDY’S LITTLE VILLAIN - shares dark father’s ambitions.

BERSERK BUTTON - always ready to fucking snap.

SOFT SPOKEN SADIST - occasionally. a monster who might describe just how horribly she’s going to mangle you, while speaking in a voice that’s anything but monstrous.

DARK ACTION GIRL - likes beating the hero to a bloody pulp. good at it too.

AMBITION IS EVIL - has grand plans. ends justify the means, always.

[shestranged]

Bellatrix Hecate Lestrange // the devil shudders as she rises ( she’s taking aim for his throne )

She grew up wanting to break things —- toys and hearts and bones and people. Her father indulged her, quietly forming her into the woman that she is today, a weapon, a beast. Someone who finds peace in the destruction, in the chaos, in the violence. People say that she came out a little wrong - something unhinged about her persona already as a child. Those jet black eyes, waiting to devour you. Sharp teeth pulling into a Cheshire cat grin before she could even speak. As she grew older, she became more adept at hiding her… faults, slowly learning how to suppress her anger, her hatred. Instead growing colder, burning less hot ( a ticking time bomb in the making ). But then she met him. And at his side, she became so much worse. As his right hand, she tapped into unimaginable powers, but it all came at an equally unimaginable price. With him, she became less human, more vile. At his side, all she wanted to see was the streets run red with blood.

what up i’m liz, i’m twenty one and i’m here to bring u my favorite villain and chaotic badass, bellatrix lestrange !! this will be a bit long probably bc i could talk about her 5ever. most important parts to read probably are #hogwarts years, #after hogwarts and #personality stuff !!

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QUICK STATS:

name: bellatrix hecate lestrange occupation: senior obliviator former house: slytherin date of birth: december 23. age: 32

BIRTH AND EARLY YEARS:

Let’s set the scene --- it’s a cold December night, right before Christmas, and the Black mansion is shaken by blood curdling screams. It’s the kind that leaves you breathless, shivers running down your spine, leaving you with the sense that something is very, very wrong. Which, Druella Black fears that it very well might be ---- because her (expected) son is four weeks early. 

The birth process is excruciatingly long and difficult for poor, poor Druella, but when the clock strikes eleven on the night before Christmas, a girl comes crashing into the world. She’s not what they expect, nor what they want, and she never cries --- instead, she just watches them with those big black eyes that always seem to be appraising something.

-

Though Bellatrix’s birth was mostly an unwelcome surprise ( she came too early, and it was no secret that her parents had hoped for a boy ), she was also the first child to carry on the Black legacy, which was an honor. A necessity.

As a baby, she was small and meager. Nurses whispered about the Black baby that could barely muster a scream, that seemed so frail. Like she might break at any second. But that memory would soon fade and be replaced by a much more unpleasant one - because Bellatrix’s bones hardened, her skin thickened, her eyes grew meaner. Within a few years, any trace of that soft baby was gone, and instead, a cruel toddler took her place.

As a child, Bella was vicious. Biting, clawing, screaming and cursing were things she picked up fast, and she’d terrorize the other kids at the playground ( with an almost scary aim for her muggle born / half blood peers ). 

Once she reached the age of seven, she calmed down a bit, and instead started following her father around ( and was lovingly referred to as his ‘little shadow’ ). Eager to prove herself, she learned everything that a son of Cygnus would have learnt. She was determined to show her father that being a girl would not stop her from becoming worthy of the Black throne, to carry his name with pride. Over the years of her childhood and adolescence, Bellatrix forged herself into the golden girl, a respectable heir in the making. Desperate to wear the crown.

Under her father’s influence, uncontrollable rage was switched in for an eerie quietness, anger instead boiling right below the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. She was so eager to please, to sculpt herself into whatever he wanted, so she suppressed her emotions the best she could, even though it never felt natural. And so, the nurses whispered again, but this time, it was about her sweet, sweet smile, matched with those mean, mean eyes. ‘Doesn’t it look distorted? Like that damn Cheshire cat. Something’s not right about that girl, I’m telling you. She came out wrong’.

Behind closed doors, Cygnus also encouraged Bella’s darker side. Introduced her to the dark arts and the chaos that she would later come to love so desperately.

Most of her childhood was characterized by harsh words, strict rules and high expectations. Her family’s reputation weighed heavy on her shoulders, constantly pressuring her to excel. Luckily, she shared her parents’ ambition and values, and had no problems conforming to their rule. Which also meant that she could get away with much else. As long as she remained the golden girl, Bellatrix could run wild and free.

HOGWARTS YEARS:

Bellatrix had been duly prepped before arriving at Hogwarts. She was the first of their children to walk the halls, so it was important to both Druella and Cygnus that Bellatrix knew how to behave. Who to fraternize with. Who to avoid. Who was worthy of her time. Her parents had also made sure that she already had the appropriate friends — and play dates with other pureblood kids were a common occurrence when Bellatrix was younger.

At school, Bellatrix was popular ---- the resident cool girl. The type of girl that hardly ever objects to anything, because she is always down to have a good time. The type of girl that loves Quidditch, dirty jokes and cheap beer. The type of girl that hides her true colors, at least for a while. Until she explodes.

So Bella kept out of trouble, for the most part. There were a couple.... incidents, with muggleborns. One or two may have been turned into rats and toads ( under the guise of it being a joke --- can’t you take a joke, come on now? ). More serious things have been strictly forgotten by everyone involved. Powerful parents will do the trick. Mostly though, Bellatrix kept to her fellow Slytherins... biding her time. Waiting to strike.

She played for the Slytherin Quidditch team, as a beater, and was eventually made captain ( nothing less for a child of Cygnus, she must excel ). During her time on the team, she was notorious for her cruel playing style, her foul tricks, the constant smirk on her lips as other players fell to the ground. 

And during her sixth year, she was eventually recruited into the Death Eaters. And with them, she found a second home, quickly rising through the ranks. 

AFTER HOGWARTS:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Bellatrix took a year off from her studies. The official reason was that she needed to “find herself”. Whatever the fuck that meant. Obviously, it was a lie to hide what she was really up to. In reality, Bellatrix was at Voldemort’s side, learning leglilimency and occlumency, all the while developing her dark magic and her shitty personality.

Quickly became Voldemort’s personal attack dog, always willing to do his bidding, no questions asked.

At the age of nineteen, Bellatrix found work as an obliviator. Though the choice had ultimately been hers to make, the dark lord was always whispering in her ear, encouraging her to infiltrate the ministry. The goal was to have sleeper agents of death eaters in every department once it was time to go to war. It also helped that becoming an oblivator just made sense — fucking with the minds of muggles could already be counted as a hobby (albeit a twisted one), and she had always been good at taking things that didn’t belong to her… Memories would be no different.

Will occasionally throw pureblood galas, but isn’t too invested in them. They’re just for show, and she couldn’t care less.

Among the Death Eaters, Bellatrix is in the inner circle. She considers herself the dark lord’s right hand, and prides herself on being his most loyal servant.

Bellatrix also has a pet snake, lovingly named Medusa. 

Today, Bellatrix works as a senior obliviator at the ministry of magic. She handles a lot of paper work, but is also out in the field a lot.

PERSONALITY:

First of all - Bellatrix is a fucking shit show and we all know this.

She is like night and day ----- and her temper switches incredibly quickly, which makes her unpredictable, a little scary. She can go from the girl her family forced her to be - the Socialite, the Sophisticated Woman, the Cool Girl, to something far more sinister in the matter of minutes.

When she’s at her worst, Bellatrix is cruel, sadistic, self righteous, impulsive, angry as hell, deranged, unstable, manipulative, a little bit unhinged, ruthless, playful, childish and absolutely lethal. It’s always brewing right below, so close to the surface, just waiting to come out.

But she’s also calculating, clever, quick on her feet, intensely passionate, fiercely loyal (until she’s... not), adaptable, intuitive and assertive. 

Bella often contradicts herself — she has grown up believing that it’s best to be cold and devoid of emotions (#thanks dad), but she’s a highly emotional person by nature. She tries to suppress that as best as she can, but she usually boils over pretty fast. Other emotions are usually translated into anger as well, so that’s fun. I think the best way to describe her is that she’s just fire, always burning hot or cold.

Voldemort’s influence on her is also really important!! His influence poisons her mind, her soul, her heart. The darkness that was already there is amplified, becomes a thousand times worse. Though already a skilled witch, he introduced her to magic she could only have dreamed of --- and that power became corruptive, addictive. For power, Bella would gladly pay the steep price of sacrificing her soul, her humanity.

Bellatrix really does think that she is in the right. 

Also probably thinks that she’s better than everyone else at all times. There’s definitively an air of arrogance surrounding her.

Mrs Lestrange thinks that she’s invincible, and likes walking a little too close to the cliff’s edge ( playing with fire ). Will occasionally drop hints that she COULD be a death eater, but never goes too far with it. And if someone suggests that she is one, she acts like that’s absolutely outrageous. How dare you imply that I am affiliated with anything... !

Okay so, I am convinced that Bellatrix doesn’t reach peak evil + instability until after Voldemort’s fall and Azkaban, so I’m really trying to tone her down a bit and give the influence of her upbringing ( + her nature ) a bigger role in the person that she becomes. Hence why she is a little better at hiding her true colors, a little more refined. : ~ ) Though, she’s still the hammer ( doesn’t have the most finesse, mostly just likes getting things done, her technique isn’t exactly intricate, but ALWAYS effective ).

Even if most people probably don’t know that she’s a death eater ( though some probably suspect lbr ), she has a very intimidating presence. That’s her brand. And she still has that Weird Aura about her, like there is something that isn’t quite right, so that could also weird people out.

STYLE / FASHION / APPEARANCE:

Bellatrix has jet black eyes and the hair to match. It falls in soft curls over her shoulders, down her back. 

Usually wears dark red lipstick.

She hides her dark mark with a concealment spell while out in public.

Dresses mostly in black. Has to wear clothes that can fit into the muggle world while at work ( since she is often out in the field, interacting with muggles ). While there, she wears a well worn leather jacket ( with shoulder pads, in true 70s style ), and wide, black pants.

Files her nails into long claws, and paints them black.

Is tall. Likes towering over people.

AESTHETICS / VIBES:

black dresses, whispered hexes, broken champagne glasses, the calm before the storm, bullets caught between teeth, a constant paradox, skin stained black and blue, a devilish grin, ‘is that wine or blood on your carpet?’, snakes wrapped around wrists, mean eyes, always running hot and cold, a cheshire cat’s smile, soft laughter as the light leaves your eyes, divine violence, a taste of the approaching revolution / the new world order, quiet desperation, family heirlooms, unwavering loyalty, sudden fits of rage, emerald lockets, double lives, ‘would you still like me with my hands around your neck?’, no conscience, silent promises, taunting you with her very last breath, the hardest of hearts, dried blood on expensive clothes and a quiet conviction that this will all make sense in the end.

CHARACTER INFLUENCES:

amy dunne ( gone girl )

katherine pierce ( tvd )

jamie moriarty ( elementary )

glory / glorificus ( btvs )

villanelle ( killing eve )

jennifer blake ( teen wolf )

klaus mikaelson ( tvd )

kilgrave ( jessica jones )

lilith ( supernatural )

drusilla ( btvs ) 

cersei lannister ( got )

helena ( orphan black )

faith lehane ( btvs )

mazikeen ( lucifer )

FAVORITE CHARACTER TROPES:

SLASHER SMILE - a smile in anticipation of pain or death // a cheshire cat grin.

THE DRAGON - a monster the hero has to get past to get at the big bad. the top enforcer.

TORTURE TECHNICIAN -  takes the heroes and turn them into screaming, shinned shambles.

LADY MACBETH - frequently more crazy than her husband, quite the sociopath, in the business of turning men towards evil.

EVIL WEARS BLACK - duh.

DISSONANT SERENITY - someone smiling gently in the middle of death and carnage, seeming almost enlightened as they slit throats left and right.

THE BERSERKER - throws herself into battle with such reckless abandon, that it seems like she wants to die. never, ever retreats.

THE BARONESS - a female baddie with a chilly disposition and more than a touch of the dominatrix about her.

WICKED CULTURED - evil is intellectual // basically an evil aristocrat.

THE CHESSMASTER - thinking three moves ahead at all times. manipulating, planning, plotting.

DADDY’S LITTLE VILLAIN - shares dark father’s ambitions and cruelty.

BERSERK BUTTON - always ready to fucking snap.

SOFT SPOKEN SADIST - occasionally. a monster who might describe just how horribly she’s going to mangle you, while speaking in a voice that’s anything but monstrous.

DARK ACTION GIRL - likes beating the hero to a bloody pulp. good at it too.

AMBITION IS EVIL - has grand plans. ends justify the means, always.

[swanqueeneverafter]

42. Best Laid Plans, Pt.5

Storybrooke. (Regina, Gold, Maleficent and Cruella leave the Blanchard loft.) Regina: “No one goes near Henry but me. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with one of my fireballs.” (Regina heads to her car as the others watch her.) Cruella: “Darling, if Regina is shacked up with the Savior then-” Mr. Gold: “She doesn’t know about the final part of our plan. Yes, I know.” Maleficent: “And when she does find out?” Mr. Gold: “First things first. Follow Regina, and do what's necessary to convince the boy. That page is the key. Let's not lose it when we're this close.” Cruella: “Where are you off to?” Mr. Gold: “I have other business to attend to.” (As Cruella and Maleficent jump inside Cruella’s car, we see Mary Margaret and David spying on them from a safe distance.) Mary Margaret: “Emma's not with them. What are they after? (Her cell phone rings:) Oh, Henry! Henry, are you okay? Where... where are you?” Henry: “At the Sorcerer's mansion. When everyone fell asleep, I figured the bad guys were up to something and I'd better get the page somewhere safe.” Mary Margaret: “Henry, don't do anything. We are on our way. As long as you have that page, you're in danger.” David: “Just sit tight, okay? We're heading your way now.” (Mary Margaret hangs up.) Mary Margaret: “Let's cut around the harbor, it'll be faster. David... David?” David: “Hang on. I think there's a way we can put a stop to all this. I think... I think we should... destroy the page.” Mary Margaret: “What?” David: “If we destroy it, Gold can never free the Author and use him to turn Emma dark.” Mary Margaret: “The Author would be trapped inside the book forever! Or it could kill him. Regina wouldn't get her happy ending.” David: “Regina already has her happy ending, she’s just terrified of losing it which is exactly what’ll happen if the Author is freed. We've gone too far down this path. We have to protect Emma.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. The Apprentice’s Cottage. (The Charmings sit across from the Apprentice as he pours some tea.) Snow White: “My husband saw happiness for our child. I saw pure terror. But how do we know which of our visions is real?” Apprentice: “I'm afraid they both are. You see, we are all born as blank slates with the potential for good or evil and with the gift of free will. So we can choose between the two, which is why there is an equal chance that either of your visions may come true.” Snow White: “If the future I saw comes to pass, our child's life will be bleak, full of pain and darkness. Is there nothing we can do to ensure our child's goodness?” Apprentice: “There is... a way... (Gets up and stares out the window:) To banish... The potential for darkness from your child. But as with all magic, it comes with a price.” Snow White: “Whatever it is, we'll pay it.” Apprentice: (Turning back to them:) “You see, the laws of magic would not allow me to simply send your child's darkness away. Another living vessel must absorb it... a vessel that is also a blank slate, unformed in the ways of good and evil, just like your baby. If you wish me to perform this magic, you must secure such a vessel. Discuss this amongst yourselves. Make sure you want to proceed. Because once this spell has been enacted, it cannot be reversed.” (The Apprentice leaves to give them some time alone.) Charming: “Banishing darkness from our child into another. Even if it is to save our own, it's... Wrong.” Snow White: “What if it doesn't have to be a child? The Peddler said Maleficent spawned an egg. What if we can use that as our vessel? We've seen what she's like in human and dragon form. Do you really think her dragon offspring will be any different?”

Storybrooke. Present. Sorcerer's Mansion. (Henry sits waiting, hidden under a table and staring at the illustration of the door. He is about to check his phone when a light suddenly shines through the keyhole of the door. Moving out of the beam’s path, Henry sees the light land on a drawer in an old desk. Smiling, he crawls out from under the table and pulls open the drawer to find a small key inside.) Henry: (Picking up the key:) “No way! (Hearing the secret doorway open:) Grandma, grandpa, you won't believe what I just...” Regina: (Walking into the room:) “What, Henry?” Henry: “Mom. What are you doing here?” Regina: “I'm sorry. I didn't want it to come to this.” (Cruella and Maleficent follow her into the room.) Maleficent: “Looks like we're here just in time.” Regina: “I told you I could handle this.” Cruella: “We're not sure you have it in you to be a true disciplinarian. (To Henry:) I'd say you shouldn't be alarmed, darling, but I'd be lying.” Regina: “Lay a hand on my son, and I'll end you.” Maleficent: “You won't have to do anything as long as he cooperates.” Regina: “Henry, give me the page.” Henry: “Mom, no.” Regina: “Henry Daniel Mills! You will do as I say.” (They share a long meaningful look.) Henry: (Reaching in and pulling out the page:) “Okay.” (He hands it to Regina who in turn gives it to Maleficent.) Regina: “As promised. Now, let's find Gold and set this Author free.” (Cruella and Maleficent depart as Regina gives Henry a sly smile.) The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Cruella stands guard outside Maleficent’s cave.) Cruella: (Moaning to herself:) “If I'd known it was going to be this cold, I would have grabbed two more puppies and made mittens.” (She hears a noise and moves to investigate.) Snow White: “Over here.” (Cruella turns as Snow blows a sleeping powder in her face, knocking her unconscious.) Charming: “Come on. It won't last long.” Inside The Cave. (Weapons drawn, the Charmings inch cautiously into the cave.) Charming: (Kicking something with his foot:) “What is that, a rattle?” Snow White: (Dismissively:) “Looks to me like she hoards anything silver. Look... there it is. A nest and the egg.” Charming: “Careful. It's as dangerous as she is. (As they are about to snatch the egg, they disturb the sleeping dragon who snarls at them fiercely. Charming lunges and passes the egg to Snow who runs:) Snow!” (Maleficent knocks Charming against a wall then breathes fire across Snow’s path.) Snow White: “Torch us, Maleficent, and this burns, too!” Maleficent: (Returning to her human form:) “What kind of people are you, threatening a child?” Snow White: “Child? This isn't a child. This will become a monster, just like you.” Maleficent: “And what are you?” Snow White: (Hesitates for mere seconds before turning to leave:) “I'm sorry.” Maleficent: “Wait! Please. Mother to mother, have mercy. I can't lose my child.” Snow White: “We'll bring the egg back when we're done with it.” Maleficent: “No!” (The Charmings turn and run, Snow stepping on and breaking the rattle as Maleficent desperately sends a blast of magic towards them. The blast misses them and causes a cave in.)

Storybrooke. Present. Sorcerer's Mansion. (Arriving much too late, the Charmings search for their grandson.) Mary Margaret: “Henry? Henry?!” David: “Henry!” Mary Margaret: (Relieved when Henry reveals himself:) “Oh! Come on. The villains have to be on their way.” Henry: “Already been here.” David: “What? Did they take the page?” Henry: “They think they did, except my Mom, of course. She just gave me a look, and I knew exactly what she meant.” David: “You gave them the forged page Emma made.” Mary Margaret: “Smart kid. Where's the real one?” (Henry pulls a book off the shelf and opens it revealing the real page.) David: “Oh, great job. Mary Margaret and I are gonna take this and keep it safe.” Henry: “There's something else. I've found the key. We can free the Author.” (Henry goes to use the key when David slams the book shut.) David: “Henry, hold on.” Henry: “W-what are you doing?” David: “Uh, we don't know what's gonna happen. Just let us handle things.” Henry: “But I found the key.” David: (Raising his voice:) “Henry, it's too dangerous! Go!” (David holds his hand out for the key and, after a long moment’s hesitation, Henry hands it over and leaves the library.) Mary Margaret: “So, now we're lying to Henry. (Sighs:) If we keep this up, we're no different than Gold.” Mr. Gold's Shop. (Mr. Gold enters his shop to find Belle passed out asleep on the floor. Taking her into his arms, he moves her to the cot in the back room.) Mr. Gold: “My love... I need to tell you this while it still matters. My magic comes at a cost, as you know. And I have racked up so much debt I can never be clear of it... Unless I find a way to change the rules. But now... Here's the hard truth. Something else is changing. So, if I'm gonna change the rules, I'm gonna have to do so quickly. (He hears a vehicle approaching outside. Taking Belle’s hand and kissing it:) I will come back for you if... if I can.” Mr. Gold’s Shop. Exterior. (Mr. Gold steps out of the shop as Regina, Maleficent and Cruella arrive.) Cruella: “What were you doing in there?” Mr. Gold: “Mind your own business. Did you find the boy?” Maleficent: (Hands Gold the page:) “We found the boy.” Regina: “I found him.” Mr. Gold: (Glances at the page:) “This is rubbish.” Regina: (Scoffs:) “What?” Mr. Gold: “It's a fake. You've spent enough time with the book. You should know the difference.” Regina: “They tricked me.” Mr. Gold: “What, you think I didn't suspect you? (Tears up the fake page:) I've been waiting for this moment. I knew it would come. Maleficent.” Regina: “Wait, I can expl...” (Maleficent waves her hand and knocks Regina unconscious.) Mr. Gold: “Bring her to her vault.” 

The Enchanted Forest. Past. Outside The Apprentice’s Cottage. (The Apprentice holds the egg in his hands.) Apprentice: “Yes. This will work.” (He places it on the ground.) Charming: “So, our child's darkness...” Apprentice: “Will indeed transfer. (Begins the incantation:) Let the darkness find its way from tender womb to darkest tomb. And if it sees the light of day on distant shore, where shadows loom...” Charming: “Distant shore? What does that mean?” Apprentice: (Continues:) “Then let no magic give it form and work no curse, nor magic worse, on innocents of mortals born.” Snow White: “Sir, we're just sending the darkness into the vessel, right?” Apprentice: “Well, you would not want anything with darkness like this living on in your realm, m'lady. I am sending it where it belongs, where it can hurt no one here.” Charming: “What? No. You didn't tell us that.” Snow White: “We promised its mother we would give it back.” (Thunder crashes.) Apprentice: “It's too late, I'm afraid. As I told you before, once this spell has been enacted, it cannot be reversed.” (A portal opens before them.) Snow White: “There must be something you can do! (The egg begins to hatch revealing a baby’s arm:) Charming, it's a baby!” Charming: “We can still save it!” Cruella: (Running in to save the child:) “Cradle robbers! What have you done?!” Snow White: “We didn't know this was going to happen! You have to help us stop it!” (The baby falls into the portal and as Cruella takes a step backwards, she too is pulled inside. The Charmings, not knowing what to do, look on helplessly as the portal closes.) Charming: (To the Apprentice:) “What happened to them? Where did that portal send them?!” Apprentice: “Where they belong.” Snow White: “The baby. We have to get the baby back!” Apprentice: “I'm afraid it's lost to you forever. But congratulations. Your child is now pure of intent and heroic of spirit. It is now up to the two of you to guide it... And keep it in the light.” (The Apprentice walks back into his cottage.) Snow White: “We told Maleficent we would bring back her child. And now it...” Charming: “Snow, we didn't know that they were gonna send that egg to another land.” Snow White: “Charming, we've made a terrible mistake.” Storybrooke. Present. Sorcerer's Mansion. (David takes the page out of the book and holds it in front of the fireplace.) David: “We have to do it.” Mary Margaret: “What are we going to tell Henry?” David: “We tell him... the key was wrong and, uh, uh, the page disintegrated. We'll figure something out, but let's just burn it and worry about it later.” Mary Margaret: “More lies. I can't do this. I gave Henry that book to give him hope, and I'm gonna lie and take it away? And what about Regina? She's finally becoming not only family but our friend. I went to her for help with Emma, with our secret. She's kept it. And we're gonna repay her by destroying her chance at a new beginning?” David: “Well, maybe there's another way.” Mary Margaret: “No, David! When Regina showed me my heart after Cora... after I killed Cora... My heart was dark. And Regina thought it was because of what I did to her mother. But that darkness started long ago. We... have to tell Emma the truth. Because heroes do what's right, not what's easy.” 

Regina's Vault. (Mr. Gold, Cruella and Maleficent stand over Regina’s unconscious body.) Cruella: “Well, I say we just slit her throat right now, get it over with.” Mr. Gold: “No.” Cruella: “Well, if it's too messy for you, darling, Mal can incinerate her.” Mr. Gold: “We're doing nothing of the sort.” Maleficent: “She'll never help us.” Mr. Gold: “Of course she will. She just doesn't know it yet. You forget, I manipulated this woman into casting the Dark Curse. Once I’ve explained our plans... she’ll see things differently.” Blanchard Apartment. (Emma sits holding the key to the door. Her parents have just confessed to their abhorrent actions all those years ago.) Emma: “This whole time, I was right. You were lying. I wanted to believe you. I wanted to believe in you.” David: “We were just... Trying to protect you.” Emma: “No. You were trying to protect yourselves. And Regina, she’s out there right now risking her life... (Stands and heads for the door:) I've got to go.” Mary Margaret: (Rushes to the door:) “Please, stop. I'm your mother.” Emma: “I don't care.” (Emma walks out the door.) Regina's Vault. (Maleficent returns to the vault holding the baby rattle as Mr. Gold stares at his reflection in the mirror.) Maleficent: “Now that you're so confident Regina's taken care of, isn't time we took care of my needs?” Mr. Gold: “You didn't get me the page. You didn't earn your answer. That was the deal.” Maleficent: “That was the deal. But after all I've been through, I've more than earned my answer.” Mr. Gold: “I know. And I want to give you a last chance to preserve what you have.” Maleficent: “What I have is pain.” Mr. Gold: (Turning to face her:) “And pain fades... Unless you feed it. And this... This could be the meal, you really don't want.” Maleficent: “Well, I've never seen my child. I don't even know what I had... a boy, a girl. I don't care how much it hurts to know its fate. I need this.” (She holds up the rattle and Mr. Gold takes it.) Mr. Gold: “Now, remember, this was 30 years ago...” (He waves his hand over the rattle and images form in the glass orb.) The Land Without Magic. Before The First Curse. (A crying baby is handed to its new adoptive parents.) Woman: “Congratulations. Your adoption is finalized. She's all yours. What will you name her?” Dad: “Lilith. We want to name her Lily.” Storybrooke. Present. Regina's Vault. Maleficent: (Crying:) “She's alive. And...” Mr. Gold: “In this world.” Maleficent: “I must find her. There has to be a way. If she's out there... Someone must know her.”

Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa. (Emma rushes in to the convent, still clutching the page and the key, to find Henry speaking with August.) Emma: “August! How are you?” August: “A bit tired, but better. Something's wrong. How are you?” Emma: (Rubs Henry’s arm:) “Hey, kid, thanks for calling. (Takes a seat beside August:) “I'm fine.” August: “You forget I know all about lying.” Emma: “It's a long story. It's not really worth getting into right now, especially when I have a surprise for you. Look what Henry found.” (She holds up the page and the key.) August: “You did it.” Emma: “That's right. (David and Mary Margaret arrive:) Now, what do you say we let out the Author. I have some questions.” Mary Margaret: “Emma, please, think about this. This isn't just what Regina wanted. This is what Gold wanted, too. He was doing it to turn you dark.” Emma: “I'm not worried about it. Are you? 'Cause now I have some questions about me, and he can tell us everything.” August: “If he's the one who wrote your story.” Emma: “What are you talking about?” August: “Something you need to know about this author... He wasn't the only one. There have been many authors throughout time. It's a job, not a person. And the one trapped in here was just the last tasked with the great responsibility.” Emma: “Which is?” August: “To record... to witness the greatest stories of all time and record them for posterity. The job has gone back eons, from the man who watched shadows dance across cave walls and developed an entire philosophy, to playwrights who tell tales in poetry, to a man named Walt. Many have had this sacred job... great women and men who took on the responsibility with the gravity that it deserved... Until this last one. He started to manipulate rather than record. He did something... I don't know exactly what... but something that pushed them over the edge.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (The Apprentice has tracked down the Author.) Apprentice: “How dare you? How dare you force me to do that to that child?” Author: “It makes for a better story.” Apprentice: “Return the quill. You are ill-suited for this job. You have abused all the rules. You have lied. You have deceived us. You have forsaken your holy duty, and now... (Raising his wand:) You must be punished.” (The Apprentice traps the Author inside the storybook.) Storybrooke. Present. August: “That's why the Sorcerer and his Apprentice put him in there. They're the ones who choose the Author, and they took responsibility for their error.” Emma: “If they did, and he's still in there, he still has the ability to alter the book, to alter the course of things.” August: “You sure have come a long way from the woman who wouldn't believe.” Emma: “Yeah. I have.” (Emma stands and uses the key on the page and the Author escapes.) Author: “Oh! Whoo! It was cramped in there! I couldn't even reach this. (Holds up a bottle of rum:) And I was parched.”

David: “Where did you get that?” Author: “This? Uh, a nice young couple I met on the road gave it to me. You want some? Sort of nutmeg-y.” Mary Margaret: “You. You are... the Author?” David: “The peddler?” Emma: “We have a lot of questions.” Author: “I bet you do.” (The Author pulls down a curtain rod and runs away while the Charmings are distracted.) Emma: “Hey!” (Emma chases after the Author but loses him in the streets of Storybrooke.) Regina's Vault. (Regina wakes from her enforced slumber to find Mr. Gold standing over her. She lunges at him only to find her hands chained.) Mr. Gold: “Your hands are tied, I'm afraid. No more magic for you today.” Regina: “So now I'm your prisoner.” Mr. Gold: “Until you hear what I have to say, yes.” Regina: (Scoffs:) “You think I’m going to betray the ones I love? I told you my reasons for wanting to find the Author. I’m looking to move on from my past, not alter it. Why are you doing this?” Mr. Gold: “Because I lost everything. Just as you will if you don't do as I say.” Regina: “You’re a fool. My sister thought she could change the past and look where that got her.” Mr. Gold: (Chuckles:) “Oh the irony. (Reaches into his pocket:) This is the telephone number registered to a Robin of Locksley. Why don’t you give him a call, see how he’s settling in. (Gold waves his hand over Regina’s and the cuffs disappear. Handing her his phone:) Call.” (Confused, Regina takes the phone and dials the number. The phone rings a couple of times before someone answers. Shocked by the voice on the end of the line, Regina gasps, as we cut to black.)

The End.

[singekyo]

The Color Silver Ch 1

Here it is, the first chapter of my fan fic.

There were so many smells in the air. They were all familiar, but they were still unpleasant. Smoke, fire… blood. Screams of rage filled the air along with the clash of metal, breaking bones, slicing flesh and the much quieter, but far worse drip, drip, drip of blood. It was getting farther and farther away, as a women I recognized but didn’t truly know carried me further away. She was as familiar as all the others, hair the palest shade of blonde, smooth face, alabaster skin, strong, toned muscles, thin lips set in a grim line, eyes that were cold and unfeeling, eyes that were only like mine in color. The color silver.

It was only after hours of travel that she finally spoke, her voice was strong and unrelenting. “You can’t begin to understand what’s going on child. You’ve only just passed our clans initiation. Know that we are not like other people, because we are not human beings. We are little more than the beasts that we have hunted for countless years. The only difference is our minds are still intact. But there will be no more beasts to hunt, and so there will be no more reason for us to exist. There are others who believe different, that we can force our purpose onto this world indefinitely. They have lost sight of why were created in the first place. This is the desired end result, a world that does not know the threat of Yoma, where the humans do not live in fear of being devoured in the night.” She tilted her head down, eyes meeting mine as trees and mountains continued to race by. She spoke again, softly this time, her words weighed heavy by years of pain, “A world where our sisters are no longer slaughtered one after another. Our suffering can finally end. But they don’t see that, they have forgotten what it was to feel human. Their memories of such a time... are blurred and buried by inhuman bodies. When the fighting is done, there will be no one left.” I had never heard words like that come from any of the warriors. They had only spoken of our clans great and vital purpose, of their feats in battle, their greatest triumphs against the Yoma.

Her lips shifted just the smallest bit, lifting into what could almost be called a grin. “But you have fresh human memories, you can be more than a simple hunter, you can build a true life for yourself with comrades to share in your joys and sorrows. Our clan is dying from the inside. But I will not allow our fate to be yours as well, you shouldn’t have to pay for our hubris. Remember the rules laid out by your handler, if you wish for even a sliver of our clan to survive, know that it must be through you, as a human being.”

I didn’t like the boat. It was damp and cold below the deck, and it smelled like old, rotting fish. It reminded me of my first days amongst my clan, they kept us locked up underground in dark cells of metal and stone. The only comfort the twisted bodies of the other children. We huddled together for warmth, we cried our silent tears into each other’s shirts. Our bones growing and shifting under skin pulled too tight against our small bodies. The hot malicious aura of our yoki writhing and bubbling, threatening to spill over, to split our bodies open. I released my hold on my arms, blood running from where my nails had dug into my flesh. My breathing loud and labored. It was done, I had passed, I was good enough and it doesn’t matter anymore. I fought to control my breathing, to keep from being heard by those on top. I can’t get caught now, I won’t survive if they throw me off. I need to make it to land. As the boat continued it’s nauseating rhythm, I tried not to think about how the smell was like the failures rotting back in the cells. There won’t be anyone to clean out the old ones anymore. I shut my eyes tight, keeping my breathes quiet, waiting until it was over and I could see the sun. I never saw such a brilliant blue before and the giant light was too much for my sensitive eyes. It cast it’s radiant light across everything, touching everything underneath the sky. Warmth seeping into my skin. I shed more tears, knowing the others wouldn’t get to see it, wouldn’t get to feel it.

They don’t matter, they aren’t anything. We have no use for them, they can not even survive under the weight of their own power. You will fight and bleed and even die if our clan demands it, as long as you remain useful, as long as you can stand under the weight of your strength, of our clans strength, you will be known as a warrior. But if you falter, if you succumb to the beast within, you will be another failure just as they were, and I will not hesitate to strike you down.

I felt the sting of tears escaping for the first time since that day, if our clan is dead, then what will I become, I can not call myself a warrior, I never even killed a Yoma. I’ve only just learned what it is to use yoki. How do I be a human being. Is it just by crying, or is it from the feeling of crying. Is it something else, something more than just doing or feeling?

Will the sky look the same in the land of fire? What do the people there do, where do they live, what do they eat? A million thoughts swirled through my head on the fourth day on the boat. I’d only ever known the members of my clan, I’d never seen a normal human before. Would they look the same as us? But I didn’t look like them, my hair is the wrong color, brown not blonde or the occasional gray.

On the eighth day the boat stopped in the land of hot water, and I was finally able to breath fresh air. The sky still looked the same blue as when I left. I quickly ran off  before anyone could see me, I don’t need to get in trouble when I’ve just arrived, I’m not even in the land of fire yet.

After a few hours of walking I came to a stop. Night had fallen and I had no intention of getting lost in the dark, I need to keep heading west if I want to get out of the land of hot water, but I can’t do that if I don’t know which way I’m going. I had decided to stay in a nearby cave that night, but when I entered I found that it wasn’t as empty as I had thought. Inside was an elderly woman wearing clothing that could only be described as old rags. Though I suppose I don’t look much better after more than a week without bathing, not to mention the stench of dead fish.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve had any visitors, what brings you here young one?” Her voice was surprisingly kind, though a bit nasally.

“I’m on my way to the land of fire, I was told they take in refugees. I… need a new home. And I promised my sister I’d make it there.”

The old woman appeared to consider my words, almost as if she were trying to decide something. “The land of fire certainly has its benefits, but it has also been part of many wars in the not too distant past. Surely your sister would prefer you stay in a more comfortable place. Yugakure is to the north west. They call it the village which has forgotten wars. They happen to be quite wealthy as well, I’d imagine you would have a much safer life if you went there.”

“Umm. I guess. I wouldn’t really know, I’m not from anywhere near here. But… something seemed a little off about the people I saw on the way here. I don’t really know what it was, but they don’t look the same as you.”

She let out a harsh bark of laughter at my comment. “I would think so, but I’m surprised your so perceptive. You right when you say that, the people of this land may have forgotten war, but not without a price.”

“What kind of price?” Is it like the price we pay for yoki?

Her face took on a more serious light as she spoke. “It was by staying silent in the face of evil. The stood by at critical times, when there were those who desperately needed help, and they did nothing. Even when those in need were from their own village.”

“Is that why you live out here alone? Because they didn’t help you when you needed it?”

She shook her head. “No, it was not me who they failed, but there are days where I wish it was. I lost someone very precious to me, and it left a hole in my heart that hasn’t filled since.” Her eyes were filled with sorrow, glistening in the pale light filtering in from the cave’s maw. “Whether your sister knows it or not, she made the right decision sending you to the land of fire. It may not be the most ideal place to live, but such a place doesn’t exist without some sacrifice. It is true that you will accepted there as a refugee, but they’ll want something in return. Are you prepared to pay for that?”

“I can’t say that I have any other choice. What kind of price is it?”

“Those who are accepted are required either to submit themselves as laborers or shinobi of Konohagakure.”

“Shinobi? I haven’t heard that word before, and I don’t know where… Leaf Town?- is.”

Her expression was one of confusion and laughter. “Well you’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” My face flushed in embarrassment as she continued to speak. “Konohagakure, or the village hidden in the leaves, is the heart of the land of fire’s military. It is a village where young men and women are trained to become highly skilled warriors called shinobi.”

Warriors! Is that why she wanted me to go there, to finish my training? No that doesn’t make sense, she said it herself that there aren’t any Yoma left. I frowned in confusion, unsure of what my sister had wanted of me.

“What’s the matter, getting cold feet?”

My head snapped up in attention. “No, no that’s not it at all. Just… what do shinobi do? What does it mean to be one?”

“Such interesting questions, you really are a strange one. But don’t think bad of it, different perspectives can be quite useful. As for the answer, well I suppose it’s different for everyone. They do all sorts of jobs, depending on the client that pays them. It could be something as mundane as weeding a garden to as dangerous as killing a feudal lord. But I hear in Konoha, to be a shinobi is to fight to protect the people who cannot fight for themselves.”

The reason we exist, is to protect those who cannot defend themselves. We are the thin line separating them from the overpowering force of the Yoma.

My eyes widened in amazement. This is it, this is why she wanted me to go, because our purpose can still exist there. “That’s what I want to do! I want to help people!”

Her eyes lit up just a fraction. “It’s nice to see such kindness in the young. Tell me your name young man.”

I was startled by her request. A name? You are one of the few who passed induction, from here on out you will be known as Akugin #78. “I don’t really have a name.�� I looked down, feeling somehow ashamed by the fact. It’s not like I can tell her what they called me, what we called each other.

“Well that won’t do, a boy like you deserves to have a name.” I looked up surprised once more by the woman in front of me. “How about Kagame. It’s a lovely name that I think would suit you quite well. As for a surname, why not take some time to decide yourself, you’ll have plenty of time to consider on your journey west.”

I tested the name in my mouth, “Kagame… Kagame… It sounds nice. Thank you, umm… can I ask what your name is?”

She burst out laughing at that. “I’m nobody, just a hermit tired of living in villages. The name I once held is of little importance now. The person I was then isn’t who I am now. So the name just doesn’t fit anymore.”

“Oh… okay.”

Her eyes met mine for a minute, she seemed to decide something in that moment. “Before you leave, let me teach you something. You might find it useful later on.” She held out her hand expectantly, I lifted my own hesitantly before taking it. I felt a sharp pain as spectral vines burst out of her hand and stabbed into my own. Despite the pain I held my grip. Then as soon as they appeared, the vines vanished, they didn’t retreat back into her hand, they just vanished into thin air. My eyes widened in surprise as I let out a gasp.

“I call it hermit purple. I use it for divination of my surroundings and to grab things out of my reach.” As she spoke she had pulled out a pouch and dumped a handful of salt on the ground. “Watch carefully now.” She stuck two fingers into the salt pile as the vines reappeared, I was awestruck as the salt dispersed and formed a map. “Here’s the land of hot water where we are, and over here is Konoha, where you’re going.”

“That was amazing! How did you do that?”

“It took years of training to develop this technique, but well, I’ve had a lot of time to make it. When you learn how to manipulate chakra, you’ll figure it out too.”

“Chakra?”

She started laughing again, I’m getting the feeling that there’s a lot I’m missing here. “You don’t have to worry about that now. They’ll teach you all about it in Konoha, it’s something that all children working to be shinobi learn.”

I ended up spending the night watching the strange woman use her vines to grab rocks and sticks from far away and throw them around just by moving her arms. It was so fascinating, if all I need is this chakra thing to do this, then the kids in Konoha better watch out, I’ll be a shinobi in no time. When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I don’t think I’ll get to see her again, but -I looked down at my hand, knowing it was different than before- I can’t ever thank her enough for all this.

After two weeks of travel I finally reached the gates of Konoha. I surprised by the number of trees in the land of fire. It should be called the land of trees. But at least the village is named right. The walls surrounding the village were huge, the buildings inside were… well I guess I don’t have much to compare them to. They looked well built, and they’re probably nicer than any of the caves or tree roots I’ve been sleeping in. And they can’t possibly be worse than the underground cages. And the sky's still blue. The men at the gate were nice enough, even if they made sour faces when they saw me. It probably didn’t help that the only cleaning up I’ve done was wading through a nearby river. I still can’t shake the smell of dead fish from the boat. One of them even walked with me to this really tall building under a mountain that had faces on it. He talked to a lady at a desk on the first floor and then told me to walk to the top floor, “But don’t go any further, we don’t want you getting locked out on the roof.”

When I got to the top floor -but not the roof- there was a man with a mask on waiting in front of a set of double doors. His voice was just like my sisters, cold and unfeeling, “Lord Hokage will see you now.”

[aion-rsa]

A Discovery of Witches Season 1 Recap: Diana, Matthew, The Prophecy and The Congregation

https://ift.tt/3pTTgUH

Warning: contains A Discovery of Witches season 1 plot spoilers

It begins with absence and desire. It begins with blood and fear. It begins with a discovery of witches.

At the start of A Discovery of Witches season one, the magical world was in crisis. Creatures – witches, vampires and demons – were in decline on Earth. The power of witches was waning, with some forms of ancient magic extinct for centuries. Vampires were finding themselves unable to sire other vampires. 

Divisions between the three species were stark, with deep prejudice and resentment between historical enemies the vampires and the witches, while demons were marginalised and restricted by rules enforced by powerful ruling group The Congregation. Division and mistrust ruled. 

Then came Professor Diana Bishop. Born to witches but orphaned as a child, Diana spent her life avoiding magic. What magical power she displayed she wasn’t able to control. When her academic career took her to Oxford’s Bodleian Library, she came into contact with a sought-after powerful book thought to contain the secret to vampire creation. She also came into contact (and we’re talking contact) with Matthew Clairmont, a geneticist investigating magical creatures’ disappearing powers and a 1500 year-old vampire. 

By the end of the season, Diana and Matthew had broken the sacred covenant forbidding interspecies relationships and ‘mated’ for life. Diana discovered that her parents had spellbound her prodigious powers for her own protection as a child. While she began to learn how to use her magic, Diana and Matthew were forced into hiding by three witches intent on punishing them for their interspecies transgression and wanting Diana’s help in destroying the vampires. To escape pursuit, they used Diana’s magic to ‘Time Walk’ back to Elizabethan England, where season two finds them…

Here’s a bit more detail on how the first season unfolded…

Diana’s Powers

Your power is instinctive, based on need

Before Diana was born, her mother was pursued by Peter Knox, one of the three witches who sit on ruling council The Congregation. Though she refused him, Knox continued to be obsessed with her and later insisted on personally testing her young daughter’s magical powers. Diana was already showing evidence of prodigious magic as a child, so to protect her from Knox, her parents cast a spell to hide her powers. She would only be able to access her magic at times of great need and for her own protection. 

As a result, Diana grew up believing that she had little magic, and after her parents were killed, shunned witchcraft entirely. When academic work led her to call up ancient tome Ashmole 782 from the Bodleian library (a book missing for centuries that no other creature had been able to find), she experienced uncontrollable magic as The Book of Life revealed its secrets. Her access to the book made her a target. Everybody wanted it – Matthew Clairmont to learn about the origins of vampires and why they could no longer sire, Peter Knox to learn how witches could destroy vampires… Diana stood up to Knox and the Congregation, and made powerful enemies.  

When threatened and later, heartbroken, Diana instinctively conjured up Witch Wind and Witch Rain, two elemental powers thought to be extinct. After being captured and tortured by Finnish dark witch Satu for information on the book, Diana used her magic to strip Satu of her own powers and flew to her escape. When vampire Juliette – Matthew’s former lover – attacked him, Diana killed her using another elemental magic – Witch Fire. She brought Matthew back to health by letting him drink her blood and making a deal with the Goddess to give anything for his recovery. She was warned that there will be a price to pay.

After discovering that her father was a Time Walker and that she shared his power, Diana and Matthew used three objects from his past to travel back to Elizabethan England where they could hide from Knox, Gerbert and Satu, who had pursued them to New York. 

Before Diana and Matthew Time Walked, his vampire lab colleague Miriam and ‘son’ Marcus took swabs of Diana’s DNA to study her witch origins.

The Congregation

You have committed treason against The Congregation. Your punishment is death by beheading and fire.

A council consisting of nine members (at any given time, three witches, three vampires and three demons), the Congregation convenes in Venice to hold trials, deliver punishments and maintain the shaky peace between the creatures, built on a covenant which forbids inter-species relationships. 

Key Congregation members in season one included witches Peter Knox and Satu; vampires Baldwin Montclair (Matthew’s brother), Domenico Michele and Gerbert d’Aurillac; and Demon Agatha Wilson (mother to Nathaniel, who’s expecting a child with fellow demon Sophie). The Congregation want Diana Bishop because of her access to Ashmole 782, or the Book of Life, and to punish Matthew and Diana for breaking the covenant by mating.

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Towards the end of the series, Domenico double-crossed Gerbert and encouraged Gebert’s captive Juliette to break free of her bonds to go to America and kill Matthew (who had humiliated Domenico when he tried to retrieve Diana from Sept-Tours). Domenico used his deciding vote in Baldwin’s trial for treason to save him from execution, leaving Baldwin in his debt.  

Knox and Gerbert plot to remove Baldwin from The Congregation, stage a coup and replace him with Matthew’s vampire ‘son’ Marcus, who they think will be easier to control. 

Matthew’s Backstory

There were two women, two human women… not like this, not like us, but I did love them.

Born in France in 500 AD, the human Matthew was a stonemason and architect who built a church in commemoration of his wife and son Blanca and Lucas, who both died of a fever. He tried to take his own life by throwing himself off the church tower, when Ysabeau de Clermont saved him by siring him as a vampire. 

Ysabeau thus became his mother, her husband Philippe his father, and later, Baldwin his brother. He lived with them in the ancestral French castle of Sept-Tours, joining ancient philanthropic Order the Knights of Lazarus, of which Philippe was the Grandmaster until his death, when Matthew took over the role. Philippe had made Matthew promise that his brother Baldwin would never run the Order as he wished it to remain separate from the Congregation, the multi-species council led by Baldwin. 

The Prophecy

Beware the witch with the blood of the lion and the wolf, for with it, she shall destroy the children of the night. 

So prophesied Meridiana, the witch kept alive by vampire Gerbert as a decapitated head in a box for centuries. Finnish witch Satu took pity on her and ended her suffering, which incurred Gerbert’s wrath. He has a habit of making women his captives, and until her rebellion and death (courtesy of Diana Bishop), Gerbert controlled vampire Juliette – who he’d sired to be Matthew’s lover and to infiltrate the powerful Clairmont family, whose position he wanted to topple – keeping her by his side in Venice. 

Meridiana also told Gerbert a prophecy about two witches who would figure in the destruction of the vampires – one light and one dark. It’s supposed that Diana is the light witch and Satu her dark counterpart. 

As a child, Diana’s mother told her a story about a “shadow prince”, which she believes to be Matthew. 

Ashmole 782

In two parts: the first anatomical, the second psychological

Otherwise known as the Book of Life, Ashmole 782 appears only to Diana when she summons it at the Bodleian library. It’s thought to contain the secret of vampire creation, and Matthew theorises that it could help him discover the reason that vampires are no longer able to sire one another, and why creatures have been disappearing from Earth. Diana discovers that the book is a palimpsest and has hidden writing underneath its surface, including a modern inscription that reads “In two parts: the first anatomical, the second psychological.” 

Diana also discovers that there are several pages missing from the start of the book, one of which is returned to her by her Aunts’ haunted house, along with a note from her father saying “Diana, you’ll need this xx”. She assumes that her father was the one who removed the vital pages from the book during one of his Time Walks through history, and that he is the reason that only she can access the book. 

Time Walking

To Time Walk you need three objects from a particular time and place

The Aunts’ haunted house delivers a single pearl earring to Diana (along with the missing page from Ashmole 782), which Matthew identifies as having belonged to his mother Ysabeau in the 16th century. Sophie (a demon born to witches, messing up The Congregation’s theory on cross-species relations) gives a family heirloom of a white statue to Diana, who she’d been told would need it at a specific time. It turned out to be a white queen chess piece that formerly belonged to Matthew and that he lost in a bet with Kit Marlowe on All Soul’s Eve in 1590. Matthew connects the chess piece to the pearl earring, and decides that the house is trying to send them to that particular time and place. To these objects he adds a signed copy of Marlowe’s Dr Faustus, completing the three. Ysabeau also sent Diana an inscribed ring of hers to wear.

The Knights of Lazarus

It might just be that the Knights have to take on The Congregation.

The Knights of Lazarus are a parallel organisation to the Congregation, established by Matthew’s father Philippe de Clairmont. It’s a philanthropic brotherhood who protect those who can’t protect themselves. In the season one finale, Matthew resigns from his inherited position as grandmaster and gives the role to his ‘son’ Marcus, telling him, “Je suis a votre commande, seigneur” (I’m at your service, my lord). 

Sept-Tours

The season ended with Diana’s aunts Emily and Sarah going with Nathaniel and the pregnant Sophie to Sept-Tours, where Ysabeau had promised to keep them safe from The Congregation. Witches, demons and vampires all under the same roof… a taste of things to come?

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A Discovery of Witches Season 2 starts at 9pm on Friday the 8th of January on Sky One and on Saturday the 9th of January on Sundance.

The post A Discovery of Witches Season 1 Recap: Diana, Matthew, The Prophecy and The Congregation appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3s0jI0Y

[scoutshonor56]

Light The World

Inaugural Address of President John F. Kennedy Washington, D.C. January 20, 1961

“We observe today not a victory of party but a celebration of freedom--symbolizing an end as well as a beginning--signifying renewal as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago. The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe--the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state but from the hand of God. We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans--born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage--and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world. Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty. This much we pledge--and more. To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided there is little we can do--for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder. To those new states whom we welcome to the ranks of the free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom--and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside. To those people in the huts and villages of half the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required--not because the communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich. To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge--to convert our good words into good deeds--in a new alliance for progress--to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this Hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house. To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support--to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective--to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak--and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run. Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction. We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed. But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course--both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind's final war. So let us begin anew--remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate. Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us. Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms--and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations. Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths and encourage the arts and commerce. Let both sides unite to heed in all corners of the earth the command of Isaiah--to 'undo the heavy burdens . . . (and) let the oppressed go free.' And if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor, not a new balance of power, but a new world of law, where the strong are just and the weak secure and the peace preserved. All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days, nor in the life of this Administration, nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin. In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe. Now the trumpet summons us again--not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need--not as a call to battle, though embattled we are-- but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, 'rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation'--a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease and war itself. Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort? In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility--I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it--and the glow from that fire can truly light the world. And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man. Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us here the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.” 

It wasn’t that long ago - within just my short lifetime - when real men walked the halls of Washington.  Smart men.  Well-read men.  Brave men who felt they could make a difference, even if just a small one.  Men who thought beyond themselves and shouldered the burden and responsibilities of real public servants.  Men who respected our history and could see the big picture of the human condition.  Men who understood the complexities of governing and politics and the necessity of compromise for the greater and collective good.  Such was John F. Kennedy.

This is my official ruling that the current petty, vainglorious, bloated, and intellectually lazy impostor who now disgraces the Oval Office and everything it once stood for is from here on banned from my blog.  I simply no longer care.  You let him in the game America - you wanted him, well, you got him.  And no, I don’t want to hear any shit about a “stolen election”.  The fact that he was ever even seen as a viable candidate speaks volumes about our society today.  

I just did a count and see that I have written about this buffoon 20 times, both humorously and critically - and I  have nothing left to say.  There are better things to write about.

I originally started this post with a more pointed and detailed summation of my disgust, but then tonight I was watching a great special on PBS covering the photography of Rowland Scherman, who took many iconic and famous pictures during the early 60′s.  Among his subjects were the likes of Bob Dylan, Martin Luther King Jr., and John Kennedy.  Early in his career Scherman was the photographer for the Peace Corps (which Kennedy started), and during this part of the show the voice-over featured a short clip of the above inauguration speech.  Finding it moving and inspiring, I later looked up the entire oration.

Reflecting on American politics today, it made me want to weep; to throw up.  So in closing, my farewell characterization of Chief Cheetobrain Assclown is simply that he is the complete and total antithesis of John F. Kennedy.  The shallow, distorted, and flip-side reflection of Kennedy in a warped fun house mirror.  A sideshow barker promising the big stuffed teddy bear to any suckers stupid enough to pony up.

*oh yeah - one final caveat: I will  bring him out of retirement under one condition - when America has finally had enough of this reality horror show and Donny is thrown out of office in shame and disgrace – a bonus if it’s in handcuffs, for a long and sordid list of federal infractions.  When the people who represent us in government finally say, “no, YOU’RE FIRED!”

[cookiepiefrenzy]

The Walk of Penance

To be honest, it wasn't something unexpected. Actually, now that I think about it...I should have seen it coming. Instead, I blinded myself with  wishful thinking. It has become quite a bad habit of mine.

The monsters are right outside the castle. I know why they are here. They want to cast me down, to obtain the justice I robbed them off. I would be lying if I said they are wrong. They lost so much because of me, and I refused to even try to compensate for it. Yes, I deserve all that's coming my way.

And yet, I don't believe I am wrong, either. I know a sane person would find my beliefs stupid and childish. But, is it so bad to prefer mercy? Am I at fault for believing in good endings? I understand that this isn't a fairy tale. This is real life. But I still choose to hope. Hope in a world where humans and monsters live in peace. Hope in a world based on love, not hatred.

I look at the rebels from the window. ''Rebels'', huh? I never expected to call a fellow monster a ''rebel''. Looks like I'm becoming a little selfish. No, Toriel. If you want to make this world a utopia, you can't be so egotistic. You wronged them and you're paying the price, as you should.

Undyne is entering the castle. I ordered the guards to let her in. After all, they used to work together. It would  be cruel to force a fight between two old allies. But what about me? What should I do? Should I fight her, fight for the world I dream of? Or, is it that this utopia I hope to create can only be achieved by giving up on it and letting people decide for themselves?

She's already at the throne room. I only see darkness in her eyes. She is infuriated. I have to admit, this is the first time in my life that I see someone who hates me so much. I can sense her disgust towards me and, even though I expected it, I still am shocked. I'm not used to being hated. And it scares me.

Undyne gives me no time to think of how to react. She grabs me by the neck and throws me down. For a moment there, I thought she was going to strangle me. Heck, I believe she wanted to, but changed her mind on the last second. Is it that she wants to torture me before killing me? In that case, maybe I should end it myself.

Before I'm able to use my fire magic, Undyne grabs both my hands. She holds them so tightly they hurt. She then proceeds to drag me down, all the way to the castle's entrance. In a demonstration of strength, she throws me out of the caste, a few steps away from the crowds who shout slogans against me. Is it them who will finish me off? The people who I tried to save, and yet wronged so much in the process. It hurts. It hurts a lot.

Somehow, no one is attacking me. Undyne walks out of the castle, next to me.

''Stand up.'', she orders me. I quietly obey.

''Toriel Dreemurr,'', she exclaims, ''you are here today to answer for your crimes against monsterkind.''

''I never committed any crime.'', I respond firmly, trying to keep my cool.

''You let the human escape instead of killing him. That, alone, is treason against the laws of our deceased King, Asgore. But helping the human didn't just cost us one soul. It cost us the lives of dozens of monsters. It cost us the human souls we had already collected, setting us back to zero. And, most importantly, it cost us the life of our beloved King, Asgore, whose position you were quick to assume. Not only that but, while ruling as queen, you passed laws that assist humanity, betraying all our hopes and dreams!''

I try to reply, but my voice is getting covered by the shouts of the crowd. ''Traitor! Traitor!'', they all shout. Undyne silences them to let me speak. I'm still trying to stay calm, but I'm ready to break down.

''My friends...'', I begin, with my voice shaking, ''I did not betray you! I never expected that a child would do such horrible things to us...'

''It was a human child, of course it would!'', Undyne angrily interrupts me.

''No! Not all humans are evil! We all have to be compassionate! If we build a society around suspicion and anger, how are we ever going to find happiness? We will only start an endless cycle of revenge and fear! This isn't what we want, right?''

''And where did your actions take us? You destroyed years of efforts with your peaceful decisions! You destroyed our lives! Our future! You may have not created a 'society of fear', but you built a society of despair!''

''I tried for our best!''

My voice is beginning to break.

''And you failed!'', she yells at me. ''And because of you, families lost their loved ones! Mettaton, an idol for children and adults alike, a beam of hope for our salvation is dead! Alphys, our Royal scientist, is missing! Our King is dead! All because you couldn't kill a single child! And you want to be queen and rule our future after all these stupid decisions?''

I stay silent. I can't do this anymore. Because, deep down, I know...she's right. I only caused them pain.

''Do you have anything else to say in your defense?''

I look at the crowd. They loathe me. They despise me. I'm sure some of them want to see me dead. I'm not used to this. I don't know how to handle it.

''I'm sorry... For everyone's losses, for all the despair I brought upon you... I'm so, so sorry!''

I can barely hold my tears. In fact, I feel some of them have already escaped my eyes.

''In that case, it's time for your sentence. You will be dethroned, with no rights to the crown anymore. And, as the leader of this rebellion, it has been decided that I shall be crowned as empress, to lead the monsters out of the misery you put them in. As for you... I would be glad to kill you. It's what you deserve after all the things you've done. But, you are a monster. And I have taken an oath to never harm a monster. So, you should suffer a different punishment. From now on, you are exiled to the Ruins. You have one day to leave and never come back!''

The crowds cheer. I can hear a few monsters trying to push Undyne to kill me. I can't believe they would be so angry at me. To suddenly feel so hated, so detested... I wasn't ready for this.

Undyne takes the crown off my head and looks at me with those same, hateful eyes.

''Leave. Now.''

She doesn't need to speak twice. I quietly step aside and withdraw. As I walk away, I can hear her speech.

''Today is a special day in our history. This day will mark the end of our despair! For we, after all the losses we have endured, will rise again! I am your leader, but I don't want power over you. I am here to share my power WITH you! I am here to give you back your hopes and dreams! To punish humanity for all the pain they have caused us. Trust in me, and I promise you...I'll bring our future back!''

Everyone cheers. Her speech is captivating. She sounds so sure of herself, and so eager to help everyone stand on their feet again. I don't doubt her. She will become a great leader. They deserve her. But, where will she lead them to? That, I fear.

I look back for one last time before I leave New Home forever.

I'm walking through Hotland now, and it literally feels like hell. There is lava everywhere and the heat is unbearable. However, the place where true hell lies, is nowhere else but my soul. I feel HORRIBLE. Everyone hates me, and with a very good reason to. I feel guilty for letting Frisk live. But, worse thing is, I still don't regret it. I still believe it, within my heart, that everyone deserves mercy. Even Frisk.

I suddenly notice Vulkin sitting on the ground. He looks pretty upset, crying lava tears. I contemplate on it a little, but I decide to approach him.

''Hello, young child! Are you alright? What can I do for you?''

''You can't do anything for me...'', he sobs.

''Don't say that! Are you lost? I can help you find your mother if you-''

''My mother and my sister were killed by the human!''

I look down. It feels like the world really wants to punch my soul today.

''I miss them, I miss them so much... I'm alone with daddy now... What are we gonna do without them?''

''They are in a better place now...'', I try to comfort him.

''No, they are just dead! Dust, spread on the ground as if they were nothing! As if they didn't matter at all!'', he cries again.

I wish I could offer a solution. Sadly, there's nothing I can do to correct this. There is no cure for death.

''I was right next to her when she died...'', he continues, twisting the knife in my heart even more. ''My mother told me to run, but I didn't. And, then, she was suddenly killed! One moment she was alive, and the next one she was dust!''

I try to hug Vulkin, but he pulls back.

''I'm sorry, I'll burn you if you get close to me!''

''Don't worry... I'm a fire monster too.''

I hug him and let him cry in my arms for a moment. I, too, want to cry. But no, not yet. I have to be strong for this little guy... This little guy who's suffering because of me.

''GET AWAY FROM MY SON!'', a loud voice calls out.

Vulkin's father runs towards us and grabs him away from me.

''Do you know who this is, son?'', he asks angrily. ''SHE'S THE FORMER QUEEN! The one who let the human through!''

Vulkin looks at me. His eyes are filled with disappointment.

''You tricked me...!''

''I'm sorry! But think about it... Frisk was a kid, like you! I couldn't just kill him...'', I try to explain myself.

''Frisk was no ordinary kid!!'', his father interrupts me. ''He killed a mother in front of her child and then let the child live to remember it! To be forever scarred!''

''So you would prefer it if Frisk had killed your son too?'', I ask, infuriated.

''I would prefer it if you hadn't protected Frisk in order to fill the gap your  dead children left!''

I freeze in shock. Flashbacks of Asriel and Chara come to my mind, excruciating me.

''But no, because your children died, we have to lose people important to us too!'', he continues. ''Just so that ''queen'' Toriel has a child to play house with!''

I run away. I can't take this anymore.

''Yes, run back to the Ruins! It was best when you were there anyway!''

I run. I run, run and keep running. I'm at the Waterfall and I continue running, as far away as I can. My children...my poor children. Why do I have to get reminded of them in such a cruel way? And, why today, of all days?

I've reached a very special place at Waterfall. It's where Asriel's statue is. A reminder of the King's son, who was killed by the humans. Seeing his statue was the final straw. I fall on my knees and break into tears. My son, my Asriel... I miss him, I miss him so much! My poor child... All he wanted was to grant his sister's last wish... Why did he have to die like that? Why is the world such a cruel place?

And Chara... Chara wasn't my own, but it never mattered to me. Chara was, too, my child. My daughter, who just died because of my own carelessness... If only I had prevented her from consuming these buttercups! If only I had been more careful... I'm sorry, Chara... I'm so, so sorry!

Vulkin's dad said I wanted to adopt Frisk to fill the void you two left in my heart... He was wrong. Frisk could never replace you. No one could ever replace you! No one!

''NO ONE!!'' I yell, looking at the statue. My face is covered in tears.

I keep crying. I wish I could hug my children right now. It wouldn't matter if the whole world hated me, as long as my children were alive. I'd give up everything just to see them again, even for a split second.

''Look at her, crying over her dead child! Isn't it cute?''

I turn around, and see Woshua and Aaron looking at me.

''Yes, so cute! I bet she doesn't care that much about OUR children that were murdered because of her!''

''But our children didn't get a statue, did they?''

''No, they didn't.''

''Why should hers have one then?''

''Want me to destroy it?''

''Go ahead!''

Aaron comes close. No way. No way am I letting them do this.

''I'm the one you hate! Leave Asriel out of this!'', I yell at him.

''So what? Your child gets to be remembered, while ours have turned into dust and spread through the whole Underground?'', Woshua replies.

Aaron is getting closer.

''He was King Asgore's son too! You loved him, didn't you?'', I try to persuade them.

''Asgore was just sitting there, waiting for humans to fall into the Underground for him, while he could use the first human's soul to cross the barrier himself and gather the rest of the souls we needed. He was a coward.'', Aaron coldly replies.

''I had suggested that... But, even if he was scared, he was still a great King!''

I never expected I would be defending Asgore for the exact same reasons that I left him.

''Yeah, right!'', Woshua laughs at me. ''You, with all your love and mercy talk, suggested something like that? You have got to be kidding us!''

''Step aside!'', Aaron commands me.

''No. I won't let you destroy my son's statue.''

''Say, do you still believe everyone deserves mercy?'', Aaron asks.

''Yes. With all my heart.'', I reply, weirded out by the sudden question.

''Then you will forgive me for this.''

He pushes me away with all his strength. I fall a few steps away and look at him as he begins to punch the statue. He is one of the strongest monsters when it comes to physical strength. He will break it!

''No, stop!!!'', I scream.

''You won't attack me anyway, so who cares?''

I get up and try to stop him, to pull him away. He punches me down again, harder this time.

''You can't get the hint, can you?'', Woshua tells me. ''You and your pathetic family are not wanted here anymore!''

The statue's head is already broken. Aaron continues.

''Please, I beg of you! Stop, please, please!!! Just stop!!'', I keep screaming. I haven't stopped crying.

''You're not our queen anymore! You don't get to order us around!'', Woshua angrily shouts at me and slaps me.

I think I finally understand how the monsters feel about the humans. I really, really want to kill these two. With my fire magic, it's more than easy. I can stop them and save Asriel's legacy. Then again, if these two don't ruin the statue, someone else will after I leave. And, besides...I still don't believe in violence. Even if it hurts to see this, even if I could just end it right here, right now....this isn't the right way.

I walk away. I've seen enough. As I leave, I hear both of them cheering. ''Out with the Dreemurrs!'', ''It's time to end their reign forever!''. I sigh and wipe my tears, in a failed attempt to stop them.

I'm almost at the end of the Waterfall. I see an echo flower there. I remember, so many years before, when Asgore and I were still young. We had promised to be together forever. To save the Underground together. How naive we were... How innocent...

Maybe I was wrong about Asgore. Maybe he didn't deserve to be treated like this. After all, he was just too scared to go to the surface and face the humans. And really, who isn't? The humans are far stronger than us. It's normal to be scared.

I'm horrible. I left Asgore only a few weeks after both our kids died, when he needed me the most. He had been by my side through all that. And, if he was alive now, he would still defend me against everyone. Even though I treated him unfairly, even though I never forgave him... He would protect me. I know he would. He would never leave me behind, like I did to him. I'm sorry, Asgore. Only now do I realise how stupid and selfish I was. Only now I realise how much you mean to me. Now that I lost you, now that it's too late.

''Hey, you.'', someone shouts at me. I turn around and see a monster made of fire. It must be Grillby. I realise I've reached Snowdin.

''Look at this empty town. It used to be full of people. Full of joy. Now, no one goes out anymore. They are all in their homes, preparing for a war with the humans and mourning their dead. Do you know whose fault that is?''

''Mine...'' I sigh. I can't argue anymore. I'm tired and this is, indeed, my fault. No use denying it.

''Then you realise you should pay for it.''

''I'll go to the ruins forever. No one will have to see me again.''

''That's far from enough. So many people lost their lives. You should lose yours too.''

''Undyne, your new empress, doesn't agree with that. She won't allow the killing of monsters.''

''Undyne will never know.''

Grillby suddenly launches a fire attack at me. Being a fire monster myself, I don't lose too much HP, but it still hurts. I won't fight back. I didn't fight for Asriel back in the Waterfall, so I have no right to fight here. I start running away, with Grillby following me and launching fireballs at me.

I run towards Snowdin Forest. He may lose me there. And so he does, after a few minutes. I sit down for a bit, hidden behind a tree. I need to catch my breath. I'm not young enough to keep running around without getting tired.

This day has been hell. All the sad memories keep coming to my mind, accompanied by the awful events that keep occurring around me. Or, should I say, because of me? The Underground used to be a peaceful place. A place filled with hopes and dreams. Now, thanks to me, it's all ruined. Everyone is sad and taken over by rage. Monsters have died or lost their loved ones. All because I couldn't kill a single human. It's all my fault.

I hear Grillby again. He's close. I try getting up, but I stop. To be killed and forgotten forever; I actually deserve this fate. Besides, if I die right now, the pain will end. Yes. It's over. I give up.

Suddenly, someone touches my shoulder from behind. At first, I think it's Grillby, but the hand doesn't burn. I turn around.

''Sans?''

''Hey there.''

He is wearing a red scarf around his neck. He looks terrible. His eyes are sad and it feels like he's as broken as me.

''Are you here to kill me?'', I ask, looking down.

''No.'', he answers bluntly, offering me his hand. ''But Grillby will soon find you if you stay here. I've been watching you and, seeing how you don't fight back, he'll be able to kill you easily.''

''It doesn't matter anymore. It'll be better, to be honest. It's a fair punishment for all I've done.''

''You just want to escape reality, don't you?''

''Yeah, I guess that's part of it as well.''

''I won't let you quit like that.''

''And what should I live for, then? With what purpose? Making the world a great place? Bringing peace between humans and monsters? I tried, I really did. And look where it got me. I just failed.''

''You need a reason to live? How about your son? Your two children?''

I look down. Why does everyone have to remind me of their tragic deaths today?

''What about my children?''

''You saw how people think of your son, Asriel. I bet they think even worse of Chara, who was a human. If you die here, who will remember them as fondly as you do? Who will love them?''

I think for a minute. Sans is right. I'm the last person who really knew those children. If I disappear, everyone will hate them. They'll soon start creating false stories and rumors about them, and no one will know the truth.

''You're right...'', I reply to Sans.

''Come on now, Grillby is close. Grab my hand.''

I take his hand. I expect him to help me up, but, instead, I get a sudden feeling of dizziness and close my eyes in pain. When I open them again, Sans and I are in the Ruins.

''W-What happened? How?''

''Sorry for not warning you before using my shortcut, but Grillby was way too close.''

''Shortcut?'', I ask, confused.

''Don't sweat it.'', he replies to me, and finally helps me up.

''So, is this where you'll be living from now on?'', he asks me.

''Yes. I've been living here for years...it won't be a problem.''

''Except, the monsters that live here have left.''

''Yes. Except that.''

''You'll be lonely, won't you?''

''Yes...'', I sigh. I guess Sans wants to make this day even worse for me.

''Would you...want a roommate then?'', he asks out of the blue.

''What? You mean yourself?''

''Yes, if it's alright with you.''

''Why would you wanna do that?''

''You're a good friend of mine. In fact...you're the only one I have right now.''

''What about your brother?''

Sans's face suddenly gets sadder. I know he loves his brother. Why would he leave him behind? Unless...

''Papyrus...Papyrus has actually joined Undyne's Royal Guard. He moved to New Home a few days ago, in order to be close to her.''

''And why didn't you go with him?''

''Undyne doesn't like me. Before the rebellion, I tried to persuade her to give you some time, to let you rule and see the results. She didn't take it that well. And Papyrus is in such an important position, his dream has finally become true...I don't wanna ruin it by causing problems between him and Undyne, you know?''

Sans smiled. It was a weird, crooked smile. I'm sure he misses his brother. He wants to be with him, but he knows he can't. I can relate to that pain.

''Alright, we can be roommates then!'' I try to cheer him up with a crooked smile of my own.

''Thanks.''

We walk through the ruins. Each of us seems to be lost in their own thoughts. Sans is the only person who has treated me well today, and he's probably the last.

''Say, Sans... Did you meet Frisk?''

''Yes.''

''Did you see him...kill monsters?''

''Yes. A lot of them.''

''Why didn't you stop him?''

''I had a promise to keep.''

I look down.

''So, if I hadn't made you promise...Frisk wouldn't have killed that many.''

''Is that what you wanted, though? Because this feels like you're admitting that Frisk should have died...just not by your own hands.''

Only now do I realise that part of me feels exactly like that. It's the same attitude I so harshly judged Asgore for. So ironic...

''What do you think, Sans?'', I avoid his question for now. ''Should Frisk have died?''

''Without a doubt.''

''I'm sorry for making you promise, then.''

''Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have been able to kill Frisk anyway. No one would.''

''Why is that?''

''It's...complicated.''

''Oh.'', I sigh. ''Tell me, Sans...was Frisk as evil and sadistic as everyone describes? Was I such a bad judge of character?''

''No, not really. Frisk just only cared about himself. He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, and so he did. If someone was to get in his way, he would try to persuade them not to. However, he wasn't that patient, especially towards the end. Once he failed to persuade someone, he'd just kill them for an easy ticket out of the Underground.''

''I see... So, he was just selfish, huh?''

''Selfishness can become a great evil.''

''Then...am I evil too, for letting him live?''

''No. You followed what you believed in. You never wanted violence, hatred or revenge. And you also managed to keep your beliefs until now that they got turned against you. It's quite admirable. Stupid, but admirable.''

''Thanks... I guess.''

''Don't worry about it. We might not agree, but I won't judge you for it. After all, you only did what you thought was best for everyone. You don't deserve to be treated so awfully.''

''That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while... Thank you, really, thank you.''

''And thank you for letting me stay with you. I'd be way too lonely in Snowdin as it is right now.''

''So, it's two lonely people keeping company to each other, isn't it?''

''Yes. Two lonely losers.''

It's finally night. Sans has already fallen asleep on the couch. After this day, I couldn't sleep at all. I went on a stroll in the Ruins, and ended up here, in the flowerbed where Frisk fell. Where I met him for the first time.

I sit on the flowers and watch the sky. It's full of stars. Real stars, not like the fake ones the monsters have at the Waterfall. I remember the past and wonder about the future. Will Undyne manage to bring happiness back to monsterkind? Or will she bring them to war against humanity, ultimately destroying them? Because, even if she does gather the seven souls and they do defeat the humans...will they ever be the same again? Will it be worth it?

I can't tell for sure what's the best anymore. I just pray that, one day, all the monsters will see the real stars again.