#maybe even that she broke the prophecy herself on purpose

[ryefield]

Hollyleaf! She really should’ve been leader

[into-daylight-hope]

Qui-Gon Jinn: Certified Hypocrite, Fascinating Failure, Mass of Contradictions

For starters, I am just going to let direct quotes from the man speak for itself.

Some excerpts from Master & Apprentice

Wise words.

Wait a minute...

😯😯 What the hell is happening here? All quotes are from the same man in one book.

Qui-Gon Jinn doesn't have an ounce of self-awareness and it is so hilariously terrible.

What is even better (or worse), this is perfectly in line with The Phantom Menace characterization .

I mean,

Remember when he said all this than spent the rest of the movie obsessing over prophecies, the chosen one and literally the future?

"He still has so much to learn of the living force." Qui-Gon Jinn about Obi-Wan in the council scene

After that scene

"The boy is dangerous. They all sense it why can't you?" Obi-Wan Kenobi about Anakin Skywalker to Qui-Gon Jinn

You see Obi-Wan, Master Jinn here has completely lost any sense of "here and now" between his crusade against darkness and divine mission to save the Galaxy.

This in turn, unsurprisingly blinds him to the fact Anakin is not suitable to become a Jedi. Or at least not ready to directly move on to becoming a padawan.

Anakin himself would suffer in a road that is not meant for him. But he is not planning for Anakin the child. He is thinking about The Glorious Chose One.

He is the chosen one. You all must, see it.

And yet from Qui-Gon's perspective it is Obi-Wan who doesn't understand the Living Force.

I have to say if he is truly a student of the living force as many fans claim he has been failing the class for at least 8 years.

Let's move on to another set of entertaining and horrifyingly oblivious quotes from M&A.

If you look upward you can observe Mr. Here and Now in his natural habitat.

He really acts like future is set in stone than thinks he is the right person to talk about about concentrating in the moment. Unbelievable.

Let's look at this dialogue again. In contrast with the excerpt from above.

He is all about the future when it suits him. But when Obi-Wan makes a remark on it he obviously should just focus on the moment. This is actually the third time in this post where he contradicts himself while specifically chastising or criticizing Obi-Wan for something Qui-Gon actually does.

Now I don't think Qui-Gon acts with malice. But it is important to point out his obliviousness has become a way of ensuring he is never in the wrong.

He suffers from an immense hubris. And a man obsessed with prophecies and chosen ones definitely has some kind of savior complex.

But notably Jinn doesn't actually want to put any effort into enacting real change with his limited yet existent capabilities.

He turns down a council seat in M&A because he thinks it would hold him down. From what? Dear God, the reason they offered him a seat was for different opinions. Qui-Gon can complain all he wants but one time he actually had a chance to make his opinions a reality he freaking bailed.

Why? He doesn't want to face his own limits. He can't bare to try and fail. It is much easier to sustain a superiority complex when you are complaining from the sidewalk.

So he fixates all this belief onto prophecies, visions that will magically cure the Galaxy. And of course his place to help fulfill them. To the point where it is the one thing that keeps him standing.

He has binded meaning of his life and belief for goodness dangerously close to his supposed importance in the Galaxy. (You can feel the influences of his former master)

His absolute refusal to engage with reality turns him into mass of contradictions. Cause he doesn't know what he will find or become if he is mistaken in his belief of himself.

He can't face reinvention on the event of defeat.

But this situation was different. It had to be, because the only thing Qui-Gon knew to be absolutely true was that his vision was real.

Oh by the way, it turned out he misunderstood the vision. But when does being wrong ever stopped Qui-Gon Jinn?

No words.

Only Qui-Gon could have come near declaring himself a prophet after making a mistake. Maybe stop and reflect man? Just stop and think about your actions.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: I have a bad feeling about this.

Qui-Gon Jinn: I don't sense anything.

Of course you don't.

Honestly he doesn't have much to speak for in the cosmic force department either.

(There is the whole force ghost thing I guess. But I have no idea if that is more connected with living or cosmic force. It seems to be more about spiritual enlightenment. Which is ridiculous when you consider Yoda had go through so many trials, face his darkside, learn to truly let go just for Force priestesses to deem him worthy enough to study immortality. Yes Qui-Gon never became a force ghost but he had started his training before he died. And much of Yoda's tests on TCW was about self-awareness. It is not just about being a good person. How did Force Priestesses approve Qui-Gon "I was meant to misinterpret this vision." Jinn? I would understand if he became wiser after death and faced his flaws and all but he never was on that level before he died. You might say even Anakin became a force ghost. But I would remind you, Anakin in the end broke out of denial, acknowledged the wrong of his ways and took that leap to the light side. Self-awareness seems such an important key to becoming a force ghost. Right there with selflessness. Personally it doesn't quite feel right for a character whose biggest flaws are their lack of introspection and hubris which we never see him rise above to be the one that discovers immortality again. It feels more like a rushed plot point to explain how we get from A to B.)

This post got out of control 😂. I honestly just wanted to point out lack of communication might be one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have trouble understanding each other but it is sometimes even harder to understand Qui-Gon when he actually says something. Cause ration is not what drives him.

Qui-Gon is such a complex character. He is undeniably good especially compared to other SW characters. Yet for all fandom's deifying he might be the most flawed Jedi we see on the franchise. (The ones that fell to the dark side not included.)

It is a shame wider fandom completely write off his flaws to the degree I can't even recognize the character when they talk about Jinn. Cause that Qui-Gon is so hard to feel empathy for.

When people constantly make statements like "He is The Wisest sw character." his hypocrisy stops being amusing. It doesn't end on screen or page instead often used to bash other characters.

An unbelievable analysis from Wookiepedia:

When Jinn saved the Gungan exile Jar Jar Binks, who in turn swore a life-debt to him, his compassionate nature was such that Jinn took the hapless Gungan under his wing, much to Kenobi's dismay. His empathy toward all life forms, including the most pitiful and unfortunate, was Jinn's greatest strength. Additionally, he remained understanding and patient with Queen Padmé Amidala. During the short time they knew each other, he never asked for her to do more than she was willing to.

You know out of the two, Qui-Gon was the one who insulted Jar Jar to his face. And he didn't took Jar Jar under his wing. They forced him to take them to a city where Jar Jar could have been punished for entering. Now it was the pragmatic thing to do. For all three's survival not for their own gain. Understandable. But compassion is just pushing it.

Also he never asked Padme to do more than she was willing to do?

Padmé : Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve.

Qui-Gon Jinn : The Queen does not need to know.

Padmé : Well, I don't approve.

And he is aware she is the queen, herself. Padme was nearly tearing out her because of this man in TPM.

What is weird, Jinn in his bewildering hypocrisy probably thinks he is being admirably compassionate with Jar Jar, highly understanding and patient with Padme. We clearly see he is not.

Out of universe he has been a force ghost for decades now but fandom is nowhere near acknowledging his flaws than he is.

And honestly SW doesn't have that many major morally complex characters. People like Maul, Palpatine, Anakin,Ventress don't think they are serving a higher purpose or oblivious to the evils they commit.

Emotionally complicated, yes. Going through moral dilemmas, no.

Three major characters come to mind who make huge mistakes, condone or commit atrocities while thinking they are in the right/with good intentions/for a greater cause. With varying degrees of culpability.

Qui-Gon. Padme. Dooku.

In that order.

Let these characters be interesting instead of demonizing nearly inhumanly selfless Jedi characters. (They make mistakes too but funnily enough they are still way better beings than most people on our planet.)

By the way I found the epitaph "Fascinating Failure" from the article here. Especially the last paragraphs make some interesting points. ⬇️

👀

This post might seem harsh but that is expected since it focuses on Qui-Gon's flaws.

"People are more than their worst act,” Quote from Qui-Gon Jinn in Master & Apprentice

[handthatleechasodapop]

so idk if im looking too deeply into this so tell me if i am but like

ya know how Mirabel’s outfit has symbols decorated on it to represent her family, the butterflies, candles, animals, ect.

i think her glasses are purposely green for tio bruno

green glasses bc she’s the one who didnt just witness a prophecy and take it as a bad omen or a permanent  outcome- instead looking further into it

even the song shares people thoughts about how they think so negatively of those prophecies, not seeing it as a possible thing in the future if they let it (cuz srsly that fish lady.....feed your fish or smthing)

It’s because Mirabel cares so much for her family that she looked further into the vision, it was her who saw the butterfly- not bruno

if she didnt even bother i bet the story will take a different turn, with the worse outcome or at least not the best one. the prophecy wasnt shown in order but she did see herself hugging her sister, she knew that was the next step, and only bc she followed that butterfly. and who knew how alma would have blown up on mirabel if her sister wasnt the one who finally expressed herself. maybe mirabel’s runaway would have been longer, or a story of how she doesnt come back at all the cracks in that house ran through out the village and broke the mountains in half, she can go anywhere if she tried

not to mention it would have let all those pent up emotions her sister was experiencing continue to build up, maybe at the wedding instead of her bedroom about not wanting to marry Mariano. it would have been bad for isa, and luisa who had to carry a lot of responsibilities as someone with a lot of physical strength the memory of alma walking past luisa, isabel, and bruno before ending with little mirabel represent not only the pressure she puts on them, i think alma also projects herself onto them too. Isabella looks a lot like her grandma when she was younger, and mariano reminds me a lot of their grandpa

this got long and a bit out of focus so feel free to ignore this

[sage-nebula]

I’ve been thinking about what I would have liked a sequel to InuYasha to be like, since the official sequel has been such a disappointment (to say the least), so I figured I’d go ahead and post my thoughts. 

To start with, we’re keeping Moroha, and she would be the actual main character. She’s the daughter of the previous two main protagonists, her personality steals the show on the regular anyway, and the fact that she’s part demon while also having sacred priestess powers makes her far more interesting than simply doing half-demons 2.0. I’m not sorry.

So, the story. I imagine that hundreds and hundreds of years back, like well before Inuyasha was ever sealed to the Tree of Ages and all that drama with Kikyou and Naraku happened, there was a prophecy made by some kind of deity (or deity-like) figure. The prophecy was something like, when a demon had a child with a powerful priestess, that child would then end the warring period between demons and mortals—and would, in fact, put an end to demons altogether. In other words, the child of the demon and shrine maiden would lead to the modern era, where mortals still roam freely but demons are (typically) nowhere to be seen. Not many knew about this prophecy, but very powerful and high-ranking demons did (e.g. Kirinmaru, possibly Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru’s father), and because they didn’t want demons to disappear from the earth for very obvious reasons (even though the prophecy wasn’t clear on how that would happen), they made it a point to try to stop the birth of such a child from ever happening—or, if it did happen, they made it a point to kill said child as an infant before they could ever grow. 

Hundreds of years passed. For a time there was great concern over whether Kikyou would bear the child that would bring about the prophecy, given that she was a powerful priestess (the most powerful priestess) who had several half-demons interested in her. Fears waned a little when Inuyasha decided to become human like Kikyou, forsaking his demon half and therefore rendering the two of them unable to bring the prophecy to pass (and there was some argumentation over whether a half-demon could bring the prophecy to pass anyway, but the danger was too great to risk it in the minds of those who knew), but then all of that drama went down before he could, and Kikyou died before she could have a child with anyone, so it became a moot point.

Regardless, those hundreds of years passed, Kikyou was reborn as Kagome, Kagome and Inuyasha fell in love, and they ended up giving birth to a child, Moroha, who inherited both demonic powers from her father and sacred powers from her mother. And while it’s not as if someone was watching Inuyasha and Kagome on CCTV to stalk their every action, other parts of the prophecy (such as the full moon and sun both being present in the sky at the moment of the birth, which happened just as day broke, or stars falling the night of conception) lined up and made it clear that the prophecied birth had come to pass. Of course, neither Inuyasha nor Kagome knew of the prophecy, nor did anyone else in the village . . . but Kirinmaru, as mentioned before, did.

So Kirinmaru shows up some time after Moroha’s birth, when she’s still a baby, with the intent on killing her and probably her parents as well, for good measure, so they can’t have another one. He’s not alone; I’m unsure of whether Sesshoumaru would be with him or not in this version (because I feel Sesshoumaru would have complicated feelings on the issue; he doesn’t want demons to disappear but also he’s doubtful Inuyasha’s child could make that happen), but Kirinmaru would at least have his top four lackeys and possibly many other demons with him. Enough so that everyone in the village would be at significant risk. Of course Kagome and Inuyasha aren’t going down without a fight, but also a battleground is no place for a baby, so Kagome takes Moroha through the well (which we’ll say was working at this point in time) in order to have her family watch her. This serves two purposes: It gives Moroha a loving family to take care of her, with Kagome herself ensuring that happens, AND it allows us to show Kagome’s family after giving a frick about her potentially dying, which Yashahime failed to show with their non-reaction to her potentially having a child.

Of course, Kagome’s family doesn’t want her to return to the feudal era if there’s some huge battle going down, but Kagome promises that she will survive, and she will come back to get Moroha. She promises. So her family agrees to babysit Moroha, and Kagome returns to the feudal era . . . only to not come back. As a result, Moroha is raised by Souta and his family, and cherished by her grandma and great-grandpa, even though there is also an ever-present sorrow and grief because they believe Kagome must have died in the battle she spoke of. And Moroha does feel the love from her family, but also recognizes that they also see her dead mother whenever they look at her, so there’s that, too.

With that said, Kagome isn’t dead! She returns to the feudal era and things are indeed going badly (in a flashback we get plenty of “INUYASHAAAA” “KAGOMEEEEE” for old time’s sake), but I don’t want to kill either her or Inuyasha off. So instead, we’ll bring the Rainbow Pearls back into it. Like in the actual sequel, Inuyasha and Kagome end up sealed in one of the Rainbow Pearls. But the reason here is because Kirinmaru finds out that Kagome sent Moroha away to a place where he can no longer reach her, and he’s furious about it. But he also feels that, when she grows up, she will seek out her parents. So he figures, he’ll take her parents, seal them in a state where they can’t escape him, and then use them as bait. He’ll lure Moroha to him and kill her then. It’s a perfect plan. (And while I would want to seal Inuyasha and Kagome into the Tree of Ages since that’s their tree, at the same time, Kirinmaru can’t exactly take a whole ass tree with him. I mean, he could, but it’d kill it and probably end the sealing power. So.)

Years pass, Moroha grows. She can pretty much pass for a human girl aside from her fangs and her super senses / abilities, so she doesn’t feel like too much of an outcast in the human world. She's a little older than in Yashahime, maybe around 16, and as such was able to do at least a year or two of high school and has a few years experience in archery and kendo clubs as a result. But though she doesn’t feel like an outcast, Moroha has always been plagued by the feeling that there’s more to her story than she and her family know. She feels like there’s something missing, like the assumption that her mother died just isn’t right. This draws her back to the Bone-Eaters Well time and time again, and the final time (the one we see) Souta follows her there. They talk about Moroha’s feelings and her desire to know, and Souta tells her he think that she can make the trip—and that she should, if she can’t rest. He gives her Inuyasha’s robe of the fire rat (which I forgot to mention Moroha was swaddled in when Kagome took her through), as well as her bow and quiver from archery, and some other provisions. Then Moroha jumps through and returns to the feudal era.

So the main plot, or at least the one that Moroha is aware of at first, would be Moroha trying to figure out what happened to her parents, where they are, et cetera (and people like Miroku, Sango, and Shippou bursting out crying when they see that Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter did survive and is all grown up and looks so much like her parents). Then in the background of that is the prophecy and whether Moroha actually will carry it out or not. My thought is that she would, but it’s not that she kills all demons, because that’s pretty grim. Rather, it’s that the Rainbow Pearls would ultimately be used to seal or suppress demonic powers, with the implication that demons or people with demonic powers are very much still actually in the modern era, but they’re just sleeping, and could come back at any time. And perhaps this would be done at the end of her life rather than at the end of the series, I don’t know. But basically it would be written to explain the discrepancy of why there were demons and magic in the feudal era, but no longer in the modern era. It would make Kagome going back to the feudal era, meeting Inuyasha and building a family with him, something that actually needed to happen for her era to exist as it did at all. (So, a stable time loop, sort of.)

As for Sesshoumaru having daughters, I honestly really don’t think it’s necessary, but if he did they should be side characters (as in they can be part of the main group, but their story shouldn’t be the primary focus), and Kagura should be their mother. Since Kagura died, if we do still want them to be half-demons, then perhaps it could be that Sesshoumaru traveled to the modern era himself somehow to look for Moroha after Kagome sent her there (I don’t think the well would work for him, but this is a show about magic, he could find a way). He didn’t find Moroha, but he found Kagura’s modern reincarnation, a human woman who looked startlingly like her. He followed her around to figure out what was up with her, she thought he was a creep (albeit a very pretty creep), he eventually decides to leave her because she’s her own person and not Kagura, she follows him because she wants to know where he’s going, she ends up going back to the feudal era with him on accident, they travel together for a while, fall in love, have babies, etc. So I guess in that sense the mother of Sesshoumaru’s daughters wouldn’t actually be Kagura, just like Kagome is not Kikyou, but regardless, she’d be as close to Kagura as he could actually get and that’s better than the alternative that the fifteenth episode of Yashahime suggested, so I’d take it. (Granted I would have taken just about anything over that, but still.) With this scenario, Towa and Setsuna (if we kept those names) would be younger than Moroha, and would have been raised together in the feudal era. If they end up traveling with Moroha, perhaps it’s because Sesshoumaru sent them to do it by suggestion. The twins think they’re just ~bonding~ with their cousin, or at least helping her survive in an era she’s not familiar with, but also their father is using them to spy on her to see if there’s any chance she could bring about the prophecy.

So yeah, that’s what I got. If I’d been asked to come up with a sequel to Inuyasha, that’s what I would have written. Of course there are more details that would need to be ironed out, but nonetheless, we’d have a clear goal from the jump, the correct character would be the main character, and there wouldn’t be any child grooming or pedophilia. Win-win-win, honestly. We could have had it all.

[chironshorseass]

angst number 5 for percabeth?

“What’s the point?”

Dear anon, I am sorry that I got a but carried away. Just a teeny bit. 

Read on ao3.

Au in which Percy killed the Goddess of Misery, back in Tartarus.

tw: drowning, implied abuse, mental health issues, mild blood

Percy woke up drowning.

In the back of his mind, he knew that that was not possible. In the back of his mind, he could hear the running water. Water from the shower faucet.

He’s floating, maybe. In the tub.

But that’s not what was going through his mind at the moment. All he felt was breathlessness. And water. But it wasn’t the good kind. This water, cold and dark, did not want him.

No, it wanted to destroy him.

Like Misery.

He’d killed that goddess, once upon a time. Made her choke on her tears, turned her blood to dust.

The running water sounded like her, that wretched being. She was laughing at him.

He forgot why and where he was in the first place. That laugh was the only thing that was certain at the moment. And the water—with its icy breath—filled up his mouth and lungs.

Where was he in his dreams?

Hopefully not here.

His arms reached out, searching for something—anything—that could pull him out of this hell. They could’ve been nonexistent, for all the help they managed to achieve. He felt as if his own body couldn’t even move an inch. He wanted someone to save him.

Maybe you don’t deserve to be saved.

.

.

The memory gushed around Percy, resurfacing from the deepest parts of his mind—well, to be honest, it had always been there, gnawing at him.

Tartarus always came back to haunt him, one way or another.

He was there, right next to the inky abyss, surrounded on all sides by the liquid poison and its fumes. It crawled slowly but surely toward him like liquid honey. He backed away but knew it was no use. He’d die one way or another.

Annabeth screamed at Akhlys, trying to get the goddess’ attention away from him. She had the likeness of one of the corpses that Nico liked to sprout from the ground, not at all looking like that beautiful and vibrant girl he had once known.

Percy lifted his head to look at Misery, the mastermind behind it all. She grinned at him, flashing her golden fangs. Her cheeks were rivers of blood, like the blood he tasted in his mouth as he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t cry out from the sudden pain.

He glared at the poison, its small lakes pooling around him.

Lakes.

Liquid.

Maybe he was mad. But maybe he didn’t have to die right now. The ringing in his ears grew louder; Annabeth’s shouts sounded further away. But he could stop this, he had to try.

He concentrated, feeling the familiar tug in his gut. The poison paused in its tracks.

“What is this?” Ackhlyss’ voice bordered on manic.

“Poison,” Percy rasped, standing up with shaking legs. His motive, however, didn’t falter. “That’s your specialty, right?”

He watched as the toxic liquid retreated farther from him and toward Akhlyss’ feet as if she were a magnet and the poison was metal. It sizzled against her toes, and she jumped, shrieking. She swiped at it, but more came.

“You dare go against me, boy?” But as she said it, tears flooded her eyes; her knees buckled. After many futile attempts, she screeched, “Stop this!”

But he was just getting started.

Her control over her own creation was over, dominated by someone else.

The goddess shrunk into herself, tears flowing like rivers down her cheeks.

Oh, good. More water.

He had the urge to laugh. How foolish of her.

Percy concentrated, searching deeper and deeper into the root of his powers. Soon enough, he had Akhlyss choking on her own tears; it engulfed her mouth and eyes. She clutched her throat, poison burning her legs as it climbed into her as well.

He was dimly aware of Annabeth calling to him—begging, but she didn’t understand this feeling that Percy felt. This glass-shattering sensation against his stomach. How good it felt, to finally control what could never be controlled.

So he didn’t listen. Instead, he clenched his fists and kept it up. See how much misery Misery could take.

He pushed further into him, and Akhlyss’ blood boiled.

Minutes or hours or days passed before her wailing sounds and anguished cries stopped for good. The poison finally encased her entire body, and she lay on the ground, motionless. In the blink of an eye, her remains were turned to dust.

It is done.

“Percy?”

Annabeth walked up to him, taking her time. The look on her face was enough for him to stagger, clutching his stomach.

“Percy?” she whispered, now closer to him.

His name lingered in his mind, a chanting that never seemed to stop. But through the agony in his gut and Annabeth’s muffled sobs into his shirt, her expression afterwards was what haunted him most.

It is done.

.

.

Something broke inside him that day, he knew. Just like right now, when his powers and his heritage served him no purpose.

It was as if he were trapped in an eternal void. His hands, finally able to do something, clawed at his throat, willing his lungs to work.

Why can’t I breathe?

Why can’t I breathe .

He was the hero, the son of Poseidon; this wasn’t supposed to be happening.

What an ironic way to die , don’t you think?

The laughter kept invading his thoughts, ringing across his brain just as horribly as the water.

He gasped out, scouring for any oxygen he could steal.

Water.

Water in my lungs.

Had he always been drowning? Or was this a nightmare?

Perhaps he should just give up. Perhaps the water wouldn’t feel so cold if that were to happen.

But if he listened closely to the chaos, he could make out a muffled scream. Someone crying out, pronouncing his name.

Arms grabbed him by the shoulders, and suddenly he’s sitting up, leaning into someone else. Hands grasped his face, soft and tender. Sobs echoed across the room. His eyes were shut tight, but he’s sure that he’s in some kind of room.

Right, the bathroom.

The laughter stopped.

He tried to breathe again, but he found that he still couldn’t, the door of his lungs yet to unlock. Panic seized into him once more. He tried to open his eyes, but they felt like lead weights.

Annabeth. He realized now, that she’d been the one to pull him out. She was here, shaking him, crying, letting the water pour down the drain.

If I could only breathe.

He faintly registered the way she gently pushed him down, making him lie on the cool tub, now free of the water. He felt pressure on his chest. Her hands, compressing and releasing.  

And then, maybe, he could breathe again. His world was still tinted in balck around the edges, though.

.

.

Annabeth had her arms wrapped around him, both of them lying on their sides in the comfort of his bed. She protected his Achilles’ spot, a habit she never could break. As much as her doing this filled Percy with ease and calmness, he knew the truth: she couldn’t protect him. Not really. His true war was with himself.

Her warmth didn’t seem to suffice, either. Or the snug pajamas that she had given him to wear.

He could still remember the bathtub’s chill, after all. And Tartarus.

Annabeth snuggled closer to him. He felt her breathing against his neck, real and alive. She threaded her fingers through his and kissed the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. That I didn’t realize—”

“S’not your fault. I just...” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I don’t know why. Why was I fucking drowning, ‘Beth? Why?”

His eyes bored into the dusty bookshelf in his room, but soon his sight blurred. A tear fell down his cheek and into his mouth. It tasted like the sea. The sea that betrayed him.

“Maybe, maybe you’re just scared.”

“Like you were of me?” He shut his eyes tight. “When I killed her?”

Her curls tickled his face as she shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “I could never be scared of you.”

“But you were. I know you, Annabeth. And I know you’re scared, even now. And the worst thing? You’re scared of me.”

“No.” Her tone took a hard edge. “I’m not scared of you. Gods you’re the person I love most in this fucked up world. Why would I be scared of you?” Her hand unclasped from his, moving it to his damp hair, combing through the dark curls. “No, I’m scared of what you could do to yourself.

“Especially when Sally’s not here, and we’re alone and I, I assume you’re fine. But I’m not even fine, so it makes no fucking sense that I didn’t try to see what was wrong earlier, and...and…” She broke down into sobs, face smothered into the crook of his neck as he lay there, unmoving. His eyelids were closed, but tears escaped them anyway.

She pressed her damp nose against his skin and took a shaky breath.

“I never…” She lifted her face and swept back some of the hair that stuck to his forehead.

He opened his eyes, and finally looked at her, craning his neck to do so. Her cheeks glistened with tears and her hair was a tangled mess, but he took in her image, gazing at her with new vision.

It hit him—that this girl would forever be his anchor, his haven. This complicated, sweet and amazing girl, with eyes akin to the storm inside him. That she was protecting him. That she wanted him to heal. She reclined on her elbows, softly caressing his exposed cheek with her thumb. Then, she leaned down and kissed his tears away.

“I never—and I thought you were going to die,” she said in a small voice. “...I never knew how powerful you could be.”

He stiffened under her touch.

“What’s the point, anyway? It’s not like my powers work anymore.”

He didn’t dare admit what he yearned to say, that he deserved every last breath of pain. That Gabe, that sorry excuse of a stepfather, had been right. That Percy would amount to nothing, and in the end, he’d end up just like that horrible man. He already felt it inside of him, settling comfortably as if reuniting with an old friend.

“But they do work, Perce.”

“How would you know?” His tone sounded accusatory, but Annabeth didn’t seem to mind. “I was drowning, just like in that prophecy. In Alaska.”

“I know you still have them, because I feel it in you. And now you’re letting it consume you instead of controlling it. What happened down there...you can’t change what you did.”

He exhaled, “I wish I was sorry.”

She didn’t respond, only settled back into him.

After a few minutes of staring at the heaps of comics and the little night light, she murmured, “You’ll be alright. We can work through this. Together. I know we can.”

He could only wish he felt the same way.

Nearing to the edge of dreams in his sleep, he felt the water once again. At first, he realized that it was the same way as in the bathtub. Darkness and cold. Jagged ice.That horrible sensation of panic and helplessness.

Images flashed through the currents. Teeth and golden eyes and blood and choking. Voices whispered to him.

Let go.

What is life, anyway?

It’s useless. That’s what life was.

The water wouldn’t let him breath, anyway, so he sunk into the depths. He was used to this. It didn’t matter.

As he drifted away, a voice came to his mind, so startling and out of place in the coldness that it felt like someone had suddenly spoken right into his ear.  

Remember your lifeline, dummy.

Annabeth had said that, hadn’t she? He wasn’t so sure; he couldn’t remember much about anything.

What was it?

Anchor.

Something pulled him upright. It was a tug, coming from the small of his back. And then the darkness didn’t seem as imposing. The whispers and wailing stopped. A smile came to his mind. A face hallowed in a crown of golden hair. She was by the sea, splashing salty water with foam and laughing.

Anchor.

No, Annabeth wouldn’t want this for him; he could fight to live. He could get better. The water turned blue and warm, like drinking a mug of hot cocoa. He gasped, letting his tired lungs have what they wanted from the start.

She was right, gods, was she always right. Hiis powers still worked. And clearing his mind, he remembered the breathing methods they’d practiced, him and Annabeth.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

Up on the surface, the sun gleamed, sending golden ripples all around.

A hand appeared from the outside, cutting into the water. There was a canoe; he could see the dark silhouette. This time, his limbs moved with ease.

One in, two out, three in, four out.

The currents guided him up, up into the world. When he drew nearer to the person on the other side, he looked up, only to be blinded by the sun. But movement from above blocked the light like an eclipse.

Annabeth.

Always Annabeth.

She beamed, seemingly annoyed and amused at the same time, her yankees cap tucked over her hair. Her arm extended toward him, and she laughed. The echoes rippled even in the water.

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

He felt it now. It wasn’t the currents moving him toward the sound of her voice, but a cord. A single golden thread.

“Come on. Take my hand.”

And so he did.

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Seven Devils

Warnings: Fire, Alter sex, Priests gone wild, gore, stabbing 

AO3  <<<Previous

Day 6

You had been in the room when Sister Ruth had to give Claire’s family the news. Her mother’s scream of anguish briefly broke you out of your daze, the pain in her voice made you start crying again. You felt responsible somehow. You still couldn’t understand what tempted your friend to the fruit. You would be leaving on Monday, along with your friend’s corpse. Finally rid of this horrible place, but you could never forget it now, no matter how much you tried. You had tired yourself out from all the crying, choosing to take a nap and hoping that your sleep would be dreamless.

////

You hoped for too much. You woke from another nightmare; this one was the most troubling one you had. Maybe finally talking to someone about it would help. This led you to look for Sister Ruth, hoping she would be willing to lend an ear. You found her with the Mother Superior, who refused to leave the room when you asked to talk to Ruth in private. “You are my responsibility also, anything that can be shared with Sister Ruth must also be shared with me,” she said. You had never felt more violent in your life, but decided to hold it in. Sister Ruth gently took your hand, “Please Y/N, what is it I can help you with? Is there anything you’d like to share?” she asked kindly.

You swallowed before answering. “I’ve been having strange dreams, and they’re troubling me. I’m scared Sister,” you managed to whimper out. The mother superior rolled her eyes. Old Hag.

Sister Ruth brought your attention back to herself, “it’s okay, you can continue.” “I keep on dreaming about the convent being on fire. It is as if the structure was purposely built to be unstable and crumble in on all of us. I can smell the flesh burning. None of us get out of it alive. I feel like somethings going to happen during the feast day tomorrow and I think we all need to get out of here,” you explained. Sister Ruth didn’t say a word, just giving you a blank stare. The Mother superior on the other hand, began to laugh as you ended your story. “Child do not come here with dreams of false prophecies and mock our patron Saint. Clearly the stories you are hearing are giving you the wrong sort of divine inspiration.” You wanted to reply, to tell her she was wrong and that she would regret ignoring you, but Sister Ruth spoke before you could. “Y/N, you’ve been through a lot this week. I know it must be difficult to lose a friend so unexpectedly too. I think your brain is trying to cope with this all by spinning dreams with threads of stories you’ve heard during the week.” You looked at her with more tears in your eyes. You didn’t expect this from her at least. No one believed you and now you would be called crazy by everyone. You didn’t want to die by fire. You, nor your classmates deserved it. You had to warn them yourself. Without a word you ran out of the room, looking for your other friends and trying to find a way out.

////

You burst through the dorm room; all eyes were on you. “Guys I’m not trying to scare you, but we all have to leave right now. There’s going to be a fire here tomorrow and the Sisters are just going to let us all burn!” you shouted, hoping that they would listen and believe you. “What the fuck are you on about,” one of the girls spoke up, “I actually think you’ve gone insane.” “NO no no no I promise I’m telling the truth, I had, I had a dream and were all going to be burned to death and then the priest is going to take over the world” you explained. “What priest? Is this a joke?” “The priest Michael. The one that tried to get me last time!” You weren’t listening to what you were saying. You couldn’t see the crazed look in your eyes, you were heaving from running here, the way you were just so dishevelled. Before you could speak again, some of the staff came through behind you, wrapping their arms around you and dragging you out of the room. You kicked, screamed and even bit but they did not let you go. Eventually you reached a room far from the dorms and were unceremoniously thrown in. The door being locked just as you tried to get up. “LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET NOT LISTENING! LET ME OUT!” You continued to hit and kick the door, hoping that they would show some mercy. You realised your efforts were fruitless when your knuckles had almost been pulverised from hitting the heavy wooden door.

You decided to look around the room, reluctantly accepting the fact you wouldn’t be let out anytime soon. It seemed so familiar, you knew you had been here before. There wasn’t much in here, just a bed and a dusty set of drawers that hadn’t been opened in centuries. There didn’t even seem to be any electricity running to this room. You found some old candles and set them aside, preparing them for when you would need them. You wondered why there was only one set of belongings. The room was clearly big enough for two. Your eyes drifted to the drawers again. If they didn’t want you prying, they shouldn’t have put you in here.

The drawers were caked in dust, you cringed as you hand touched it. It took you a few pulls to get the drawer open, it had gone stiff from the years of neglect. You were pleasantly surprised to find something in there. A rosary made of precious gems. A decaying bible. Some other old books. And something wrapped tightly in some cloth. The rosary was heavy, and you could tell it was barely used. A strand of hair seemed to be caught on it, just like yours, same colour, same texture. The bible was almost illegible, the ink had smeared and bled. Some of it was singed away. The only section that you could make out was revelations. Only the worlds of destruction and death had survived the years it seemed. The other books were interesting. They had not decayed in the same way the bible had. The parchment was old, and it was all handwritten, but it had stood the test of time. It all seemed to be text on herbal medicine, smiling a little at the notes your mother had written you. The final item was the one that stood out to you the most. Mainly because you had no idea what it was. The item was heavy, the fabric seemed to be some sort of leather. You slowly unwrapped it, letting the fabric fall away from the item. It was an ornate dagger. Beautifully carved out of material you couldn’t quite put you finger on, but you knew whatever it was, it was precious and expensive. The blade was sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone you were sure of it. You decided to spend the night figuring out these books. You had nothing else to do anyway.

////

Sister Y/N had spent days going though her books. Her conclusion? Drastic times call for drastic measures. For some reason, regularly attending prayer and meals helped ease her mind temporarily. It also kept Langdon off her trail. He was busy with one of his ‘personally’ led study classes, the ones she was still barred from. For her this was the perfect time to speak to the Mother Superior. Floor plans in hand, she marched down to her office. //// She sat in silence for a while, waiting for her to finish her tobacco, she didn’t like to be disturbed in that time. She made the gesture for Y/N to speak. “Mother, you may think that I have gone insane, but I’ve been having strange dreams and I feel compelled to tell you and warn you.” She raised her brow, sitting up straight, “Continue.” “I’m sure one of the sisters must have informed you of the dreams that I had about the new structure of the convent, I’ve spent hours meticulously drawing up the plans revealed to me,” she began, pushing the said plans towards her mentor. Mother superior picked them up and began inspecting the details. Sister Y/N began to speak again, “For a long time, I did not know why an entirely new convent was shown to me. Most of our buildings are sound and functional….  But I have had another dream recently.” “And what did that dream tell you Y/N?” “A terrible fire will sweep the convent. It will destroy everything and everyone. I fear the dream may come true,” she explained. Mother Superior seemed to be lost in thought, mulling over the information. “Was there a date? And indication of when?” “The feast of our lady’s ascension.” The woman looked well and truly worried now, an expression that seemed so alien on this relaxed woman. The feast was two days away. Y/Ns voice began to crack, “I came to you to beg you to do something and to hand you these plans… I fear that I will not leave the inferno alive.” Mother superior finally spoke, “I believe you were given these visions for a reason child. God would not just choose anyone, out of this entire convent I would believe you the most.” Despite the differences the women had over the years, Mother Superior was the closest thing Y/N had to mother. If Y/N could save one person in here, it would be her. “That man must not get wind of this, understand? The men in the church seem to be praying for our downfall. Letting him know would foil any plans to get the sisters out, understood?” Mother superior asked. Y/n nodded, choosing her words carefully to not expose her other plan, “I think I could distract him on the evening you all need to leave. God has already decided I will not leave here alive so I will make sure you all get out safe.” Mother Superior did not question it, nodding in response. Both women stood to go to the door, a sombre blanket enveloping the room. The women hesitated a little, before hugging each other tightly. Y/N trying to remember the smell of the tobacco and roses. Both knew that this would be the last time they would see each other, the last time they could embrace one another. Tears stained both of their uniforms, but still not a word was said. A verbal admission of the finality of their meeting would break the women. They eventually broke away from the hug, Mother superior giving Y/Ns cheek one final kiss before letting her out. They both wished they had embraced for just a while longer.

////

The night had come where everything would be set into motion. The first of the sisters began to shuffle out of the convent, but sister Y/N was heading in the opposite direction. She made her way to the small chapel in her night gown, she shivered at the unusually cold summer air. She took something of her mother’s for luck, she was going to need it. She drifted down the increasingly empty hallways like a ghost. Silent but a vision nonetheless, hair and night gown blowing in the breeze. //// She said a final prayer as she opened the door. The incense was strong, and the candles were burning. All preparation for the morning mass that was meant to take place in a few hours. Father Langdon stood at the alter in all his glory. The candlelight gave him a halo-like glow. A light in the darkness. Sister Y/N slowly walked towards him, he watched with curious eyes, truly not expecting this tonight. Y/N looked into his eyes, before kneeling before him. She looked at him like he was her only god. The crazed devotion he longed to see. She reached forward and took his hand, kissing his palm and then his ring, the way one would for a king, holding his hand against her forehead before letting go. He just smiled at her, not saying a word, waiting to see what she would do next. She leaned forward and kissed his shoes, a reminder of the night she washed his feet. Michael groaned at the thought of it. He wished he had made her stay that night, that he had made her kiss his feet, that he had made her watch him stroke himself at the sight of her. Michael liked to play the long game and was willing to wait for her to come to him. Now he could reap his rewards. “Have you come to seek salvation?” he taunted. She only nodded, not finding the words she needed. His ringed fingers stroked her cheeks, wondering what to do with her next. “Do you have a God?” She shook her head ‘no’. He slapped her in response, the sound echoing off the stone. He lightly stroked her tender cheek again, repeating the question, “Do you have a God?” She looked up at him with her teary eyes, nodding ‘yes’ this time, “You. You are my God.” Father Langdon smiled at her answer, it was just the one he was looking for. His thumb moved towards her lips, feeling the softness before forcing entry into her mouth. His unoccupied hand drifted toward his trousers, palming himself before beginning to undo the garment. “Well then, you must learn how to worship your new God then. You don’t want to disappoint me now do you?” She sook her head.

Michael stroked himself in front of her. Y/N trembled at the sinful sight. Michael tapped the tip on her lips, “go on then, show me your devotion.” Y/N hesitated before opening her mouth. She slowly licked him, from the base to the tip. His groan seemed to shake the room, the candles getting just a little bit brighter. She took him into her mouth, going slowly and trying not to choke. The pace was far too slow for Michael, he took a hold of her hair and took over, setting a faster pace, not caring about the choking. The wet sound and the spit spurred him on even further. Y/N eyes were watering her throat already beginning to ache from the assault. She felt him twitch, but he pulled out with a ‘pop’. “Keep your tongue out,” he said between pumps. With one final stroke, he spilled all over her face, relishing in the sight of her covered in his seed. His fingers made a symbol on her forehead, much like one would on Ash Wednesday, but she couldn’t figure out what it was, lost in the daze of what had just happened.

He pulled her up by her shoulders, walking towards the alter, “Come, let me show you the true light,” he whispered. He pushed away the crucifix and the chalice, both cracking upon impact with the stone floor. He sat tall and proud on the alter, Y/N standing in front of him. He undid the front of her dress, holding her wrists in one hand to prevent her from covering herself up. Her nipples pebbled from the exposure to the cold air. Michael hummed in satisfaction. How he had longed to see her bare in front of him. His free hand groped and grabbed all around, not being gentle in the slightest. He was not a gentle man, and he would not be a kind God. His fingers reached between her thighs, she whimpered at the unfamiliar contact. She had only felt her own hands before. Michael grinned at the wetness. “Hmm? Well, would you look at that. A witch parading as a woman of god dripping for me,” he taunted. She tried to look away in embarrassment, but his gaze was far too powerful. She gasped as his fingers finally entered her, far bigger than her own. He stroked himself back up as he continued to thrust inside her. She began to twitch around him, just as her toes began to curl, he pulled out. “Not yet, come here.” He pulled her onto his lap, licking the fingers that were wet with her slick. He gripped Sister Y/Ns hips tightly, slowly impaling her onto his cock. Letting her feel all of him. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she got used to the unfamiliar stretch. Michael had waited too long to be inside her, burying his face in her bosom, drinking in her scent.  “Go on then, show me your devotion, worship me.”

Y/N hesitated a little, and Michael’s patience was wearing thin. He thrust up into her to encourage her to ride him. She took the hint and picked up the pace. Closing her eyes to chase her own pleasure. The room echoed with the sound of skin on skin. Sister Y/N had never been so intimate with anyone before, the connection felt almost holy. She wondered if the incense in the room was clouding her head or if the devil had cast a spell on her. She opened her eyes and looked into his, the room around them seemed to be set ablaze. The candle flames reaching a height she never thought possible. She felt his hand around her neck, squeezing slightly, bringing her pleasure to new heights. He was close, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in. His breathing became laboured, sweat dripping down his forehead. He threw his head back in pleasure, eyes closed and giving in. This is what Sister Y/N had been waiting for. She held her hand out and a blade sprang into her hand. The ornate dagger was heavy. She didn’t hesitate, slicing the man’s throat before he could cum. He let out a gargled gasp, but she paid no mind as she chased her own high, covered in his warm blood that was spraying from the wound. This was the closest she would be to God and she knew it. She removed herself from his corpse, trying not to dwell too much on what she had done. She put her night gown back on and made her way back to the limp corpse on the alter. She took the knife again, bringing it to his chest. It sliced though fabric and flash so easily, making her job so much simpler. When the incision was big enough, she reached into the cavity and pulled out his heart. She heard the cracking of beams and finally realised where she was. The building was burning and about to cave around her. She ran to the door, not looking back as the body behind her was crushed by the burning ceiling. //// She had run to the courtyard; the adrenaline was beginning to wear away now. She was in so much pain from the burns she had from the inferno. She had to push through the weakness, just for a little longer. She had buried her mother’s box underneath the apple tree. She knew no one but her would be able to open it. Letting the heart burn allowed the possibility of reincarnation and rebirth. Keeping it sealed prevented him from ever taking a physical form again. Forced into an eternal limbo. She gently placed the heart into the box. Her fingers were charred and painful. She made sure the box was sealed shut for one final time, muttering a prayer for forgiveness if the God above was still listening. She placed the box back into the hole, quickly burying it and hoping that no one would ever find it. She leaned back against the tree, looking up to the smoke-filled sky. She was not given the privilege of seeing the stars she loved so much. She could feel the heart beating behind her, trying to make its way out of its new prison. The pain had gotten worse now and the fatigue was catching up to her. She closed her eyes for the last time, accepting her fate finally. She no longer needed to run.

Neither God nor the Devil seemed to be done with her yet, hungry crows had begun to eat away at her flesh, going for her eyes first. Some of the sisters returned in the morning, only to find their friends charred corpse beneath the apple tree, where strange blossoms had begun to bloom.

Next>>>

[a-little-rough-around-the-edges]

i am doing a Writing™!

Hello! I've been working at a little (or maybe big) fantasy story and I've finally got pen to paper and gotten a wee prologue done. This is my first real attempt at any kind of fiction stuff, so I imagine it's a shaky start.

Not entirely sure where would be best to post it with the original formatting, but for now here it is in good ol' Tumblrvision. I'd love it if you could give it a read, and if you have any pointers or feedback I'd love to hear those too!

So, without further ado...

A brisk chill settled once again upon the town’s market stalls as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon. In the night, hardly any of Parmslow was well-lit, least of all the old library that sat mostly uninhabited in the middle of the small settlement. Covered in dust, rows upon rows of lofty, ancient tomes seemed to stretch to infinity inside; visible only due to the one occupied desk which sat in the middle of the room. Upon the desk was a single oil lamp and a selection of books; mostly closed, for now. ‘Mygrin’s Guide To The Undead’, ‘Notes On Lycanthropy’ and ‘Prophecy of the Beast’ were some of the more noteworthy titles in the pile. Perhaps the most interesting book of them all, however, was the one without a title which lay open in the middle of the desk, currently being fervently scribbled into by a single dirtied hand.

The hand - and the book - belonged to one Jenn Azomort, whose work was not finished. Not yet.

“It has to be somewhere! It has to be something!”

Jenn furiously flipped through the pages of each book in sequence, making notes with the other hand and muttering to herself all the while.

“Not reanimated, far too large… and the growl…”

The words trailed off as Jenn struggled to make sense of what she had seen that day. Not in any book. Not by the looks of things, anyway.

“Unless… no. Surely it isn’t…”

Scrambling to one of the nearby shelves with the lamp in hand, Jenn traced her fingers along the row of books, until landing on the one with the widest spine. ‘The Beast-Hunter’s Companion’ by Oroth O’Kannock. Jenn slammed the book onto the desk and flung it open to a page near the back, titled “THE UNSEEN”. The page read as follows:

“Know this, dear reader: had I the resources (or the nerve) to confront these creatures myself, then I might even be able to find out more about The Unseen, but for the moment I do not. The Unseen is not a singular creature, rather a group of beasts who only exist in stories passed down through generations. It is thought that, should these beasts exist, then few men will have seen them and lived to tell the tale. That is why so little is known about them, and what few tales exist have likely been skewed by generations of storytellers.”

The Beast-Hunter’s Companion was by no means a popular book, or even a well-known one. Not widely released, it was a miracle the library even had a copy in the first place. O’Kannock was mostly disregarded as a mad old vagrant wizard, and his decision to write a book on beast-hunting left most readers perplexed. Why he thought he was qualified to be any authority on this topic was a mystery to most, but Jenn saw purpose in his writing. She treated it with the same respect as she would for any more widely-accepted work. This respect extended to O’Kannock’s belief in The Unseen. She’d heard tell of unexplainable, unknown monsters before, so it made sense that there’d be a few that aren’t catalogued.

“I have to be sure.”

With that, Jenn continued her forage through the pile of books before her, well into the night. Searching, hoping that someone else had shared her experience. This was because if no one else had seen it, she would need to go searching for it again. Today’s experience was too frenzied, too panicked to get a good look at the creature, so Jenn only had a few key features to go on. Even these, however, did not match up with any of the beasts catalogued in any of these books.

Beast-hunters make good money. The successful ones do, anyway. It’s a valued profession - towns, cities and villages all need to protect their citizens. To do this, a solid knowledge of how best to defend against the many ancient beings that roam the land is vital. That’s where the beast-hunters come in.

Most of them don’t actually hunt beasts - they discover, research and catalogue them; only harming if necessary for self-defence or research. The name was coined centuries ago, but it stuck around ever since. Now there are guidelines. Codes. Laws. Nowadays, government-appointed beast-hunters are more scientist than stalker. Jenn was one such hunter.

Jenn’s eyes began to grow weary from straining to read in the dimming yellow light, and her hand was worn out. Looking down at herself, she noticed - and remembered - the large gash in her stomach, no longer bleeding but still painful.

“Bugger.”

In her hurry, she had forgotten that her encounter with this beast became quite physical indeed. Her jacket was battered and bloodied, with three large rips slashing through the middle. Luckily, only one broke through to Jenn’s skin, but even that was enough to do some considerable damage. Jenn looked at the wound, then back to the books, and pondered for a moment.

“I should really get this sorted out.”

Reluctantly, Jenn rose from her seat and carefully put the books back on the shelves. All but one. After carefully placing the notebook in her satchel and dousing the lamp, Jenn lethargically meandered towards the library’s entrance. Before she got there, however, she saw the door creak open and a stout, old lady walk through it.

“Another late night, dear?”

Flustered, Jenn shoved her satchel behind her back and chuckled out a response, “I suppose so. Thank you again for the spare key!”

The librarian sighed and smirked at Jenn, barely discernible in front of the morning light which now shone through the open door. One vaguely apologetic hand gesture later, and Jenn had left the library and headed home for some much-needed rest.

[norahastuff]

Hello. What are your thoughts about S12 of SPN? Did you like what the show did for Destiel and what about Mary's arc? i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Oh anon, so many thoughts - be careful what you ask for!

Season 12 is one of my favourite seasons of the show, mostly because of the in depth focus of the characters’ emotional states - especially Cas and Mary. I mean sure you could say the Men of Letters weren’t exactly formidable villains,  but I think that was kind of the point. Like Sam snarks at Lady Toni Bevell when she tries to threaten him with torture, he’s been tortured by the devil himself - what was she going to do to him?  After dealing with many seasons of escalating threats that culminated in them confronting God and Amara, they couldn’t exactly raise the stakes any higher plotwise, so they went lower. 

They created this human threat and instead put the focus on what the characters were going through. This gets kind of long, so I’ll break it down into 3 parts. I’ll talk about Cas and his story in this answer, and then I’ll make another couple of posts about Mary and then Dean and Cas. 

1. Cas and his state of mind

2. Mary

3. Dean and Cas

1. Cas

After everything that went on during s11 with Cas and Lucifer and God, I did kind of think that the show might forget about what it was that led to Cas saying yes to Lucifer in the first place. I needn’t have worried. Dabb’s always been interested in exploring Cas’ mental state, going all the way back to 8x08 when Dean and Cas talked about the effect the whole Godstiel/Leviathan mess had on Cas. 

“I’m afraid I might kill myself.”

 It was jarring because it was the most direct Cas had ever gotten about his depression. He’d talked about it before but never quite so matter of factly. Dabb also wrote the episode in which Cas said yes to Lucifer, a decision he came to after feeling worthless and unneeded by everyone and everything. Ambriel told him the how little the angels thought of him. In the past that may have been because he was a traitor and a rebel. They may have hated him but they feared him, even felt a twisted kind of reverence towards him. Not anymore. Now what did they think of him?

Castiel: I never wanted this, you know. To be hated by my own kind, I never…

Ambriel: Oh no, I don’t hate you, Castiel.

Castiel: Thank you.

Ambriel: I mean, we have a lot in common. Our names rhyme, that’s a big one. I look good in a trench coat too, and we’re both expendable.

Castiel: Excuse me?

Ambriel: Well, that’s why we’re here, right? I’m a number cruncher and you… like I said, I’ve heard the stories. You help. But Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes. So, if the Darkness is still alive and she’s pissed… and she kills us… no big loss. So sure, maybe we’re not super important, but we do the job. You know… I think there’s nobility in that.

He wasn’t The Great Castiel anymore. He was the Winchesters’ sidekick. The angel who turned his back on them and gave up an army for Dean Winchester. I think sometimes we underestimate how bad the events of 9x22 were for the angels perception of Cas. Dean broke the rules, rules Cas had put into place, and yet Cas refused to hold him accountable for that. Instead Cas fell at his feet, at least in their eyes.

I mean he was resigned to dying when Amara caught him….and yet what does she tell him? “Blue eyes, you’re not even worth the effort” “You look a bit used up.” He wasn’t even worthy of being killed by the big bad anymore. Instead she used his body to send a message to the adversaries she actually cared about. That’s all he was good for. 

Ok sorry I spent a lot of time talking about season 11 but that’s because Cas’ story in s12 is a continuation of the same things he was dealing with in s11. His desperate search for a purpose. His fears that he could never do anything right, that he was worthless: unloved and unwanted. As soon as he helped get Sam back, he got up and left again. Sure, part of that was because he needed to go find Lucifer, but like Sam and Dean tell him, he didn’t have to do that alone. 

I think it’s telling that his decision to leave comes on the heels of his late night conversation with Mary where he confesses that he still doesn’t feel like he belongs with them. So he leaves, and tries to make himself useful and Cas being Cas, he decides to do that as Agent Beyonce which results in an absolutely glorious partnership with Crowley. Honestly, as much as Cas hated Crowley, I think their little adventure was good for him - at least for a little while. I mean it gave Cas an excuse to feel superior (something he wasn’t getting a lot of at that point) and to show contempt towards someone - something he is so very good at: see also Ketch, Sergei.

But it’s easy to see how precarious Cas’ sense of self worth was. The second something goes wrong, in this case when Sam and Dean get arrested and he can’t find them, he completely falls apart. He internalises what Ambriel and Amara said to him about how useless he was, and that coupled with his own crippling insecurities, as well as Mary lashing out and blaming him for letting them get taken (she didn’t mean it really, she was more angry at herself than anything) he convinces himself that they were all right. He is worthless and he can’t do anything right. Cas didn’t fail to stop the vampire he tried to hunt down because he lacked the skills, or because he needed Sam and Dean. No, it was because he was so convinced that he was worthless and useless, it became a self fulfilling prophecy. 

The look of relief, the crack of his voice when he hears Dean on the phone after he’d essentially given up hope. The look on his face when he finds Sam and Dean, a look that stops them in their tracks, not to mention the wordless exchange in the backseat of the car after Cas meets Dean’s eyes and realises that something’s not quite right. Try then to tell me that Ambriel’s words (or at least the same sentiments) are not running through his head when he learns that one of the Winchesters will have to sacrifice themselves.

Sam and Dean Winchester are the real heroes.

You’re expendable.

If she kills you, it’s no big loss. 

It’s not much of a surprise that he makes the decision he makes. 

I also find Ishim’s conversations with Cas very interesting. I’ll talk about that some more in the Dean and Cas post, but in particular this exchange:

I used to envy you, Castiel. You believe that? You survived Hell. You were chosen by God. But now look at you. You’re just sad and pathetically weak. So now… I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness same way I cured my own -by cutting it out. 

Once again this is confirmation of what the angels think of him. He’s not a figure to be feared anymore, rather an object of pity. Unsurprisingly, they all blame Dean for that. They see Cas’ love and devotion for Dean as his weakness. From the very beginning Cas has been told that getting close to Dean would lead to his downfall. Heaven, hell and everyone in between warned him, over and over again. 

Interestingly Cas sees it differently. He agrees that he’s weak and powerless but he doesn’t blame his love for Sam and Dean for that. So much so that on his deathbed, he even thanks them for changing his life, for changing him. 

But he survives. Crowley (much to Cas’ chagrin I’m sure) saved his life. And ultimately nothing has changed. He still needs to feel useful, he’s still desperate to find any sense of purpose - and so he finds one. Eliminate the Nephilim. Not only is that a clear instruction, a plan he can carry out, but if he manages to do that, he’ll also be preventing Sam and Dean from having to do something truly unsavoury. That checks all the boxes on Cas’ wishlist.

But Cas is missing something. He’s not seeing how much Dean is struggling with him gone, and how desperate he is for Cas to come back. He just wants a win, and unfortunately, he’s looking for it in all the wrong places. He doesn’t have a clear idea of his importance and role in the Winchesters’ lives, Dean’s in particular. When he steals the Colt and tries to face Dagon alone, he tells them he was trying to protect them, only for Dean to hit back with “You’re not our babysitter Cas” and from Cas’ face, you can see he clearly doesn’t agree. He once admitted he saw himself as the Winchesters’ guardian, and part of him still feels that that’s the only role he can play in their family - even though that’s not at all how Sam and Dean feel about him anymore.

Cas is lost. Completely and utterly unsure of his place in the world. Kelly takes the wheel and he could stop her if he wanted to - but what else would he do? It’s easier to just follow someone else’s plan, no matter how nebulous and uncertain it may be. 

And then something happens. The Nephilim’s power flows through him and Cas feels strong. He feels focused and like he has a purpose again. A part to play in making the world better. He has something he hasn’t had in a very long time - he has faith. But you see the problem still hasn’t been solved, he may have faith now, but he still doesn’t have any faith in himself. He doesn’t see his value outside of being a tool, an instrument, existing only to be of service to the bigger players. 

I think season 12 did a really great job in highlighting the dichotomy in Cas’ motivations that we’ve been seeing for a while now. He wants to be of service, he needs a purpose to feel like he has a place in this world, but it’s not a desire that’s based on unfeeling duty anymore. 

Cas feels things so very strongly and yet he’s still acutely aware that he’s not human - something season 14 (particularly 14x14) spent time exploring. Season 15 too actually. He wants to belong. He wants to be wanted, to be loved. He wants a home.

And yet…he also knows (or thinks he knows) what it is he actually has to do. Remember s9 and the extended focus on “I did what I had to do.” When Dean asked Cas back then if he was ok with giving up his human life to become an angel again, Cas’ response was essentially that it didn’t matter - he did what he had to do. 

Cas wants to feel loved, valued, cherished but yet he also thinks his role in this last big fight against God is to sacrifice himself so that the chosen players, namely Sam, Dean, Jack can have a better chance. Not only is this a consistent trait in Cas that we can follow all the way back, but I’m just so in awe that they actually spent so much time in s12 actually exploring Cas’ state of mind and what drives him to feel this way. It’s just very narratively satisfying.

Ok yeah this is long so I’ll post the other parts in separate posts soon, because there’s a lot to say in those too.

[seyaryminamoto]

Hold up isn’t Azula’s first marriage supposed to end poorly according to aunt Wu and she and Sokka just got married

I think you deserve to know what was my honest reaction when I read this ask. Here it is:

x’D okay, okay, I’ll answer seriously now.

Here’s the kicker: I did, blatantly, rely on Aunt Wu as a source of in-story spoilers. Because whatever is the point of having a fortuneteller in your story if not to tell your readers what to dread or look forward to in the future? :’D I am a bit like Sokka IRL in regards of how little stock I put into these things, but in stories, yep, I think they’re a great resource.

... But then, precisely because I’m a bit like Sokka, I’ve decided to give him the credit he deserves as a non-believer. And that means Sokka’s mentality has always been: “screw prophecies, if we want to get married we can get married, no matter what that woman said”. Ergo, breaking Aunt Wu’s prophecy serves the purpose of showing characters CAN change destiny, rather than merely walk down the path any fortuneteller tells them they’ll be on. 

The plot of Gladiator doesn’t obey world-wide astronomical events of the sort that often guided the plot in ATLA: we don’t have Sozin’s Comet, because it’s long gone by now. We don’t have eclipses either. We don’t even have a ten-thousand year old planetary alignment mess that can break the bounds of the spirit and human worlds: what we have, however, are characters making choices. Said choices define those characters, and listening to Aunt Wu is every bit as much of a choice as not listening to her. Ergo, Sokka had no intentions of waiting until Azula’s first marriage was out of the way to marry her :’D he’s been picking the stuff he liked and disliked within those prophecies for as long as he’s known they exist, and doing his best to prevent the ones he disliked from ever happening... so, in part, he’d likely think that by marrying her now he already broke the prophecy about Azula having an unhappy marriage, because he has no intentions to split up with her. So it’s a way to give characters agency of their own, in a sense.

 ALL THIS BEING SAID...

... the truth is Azula’s prophecies were tricky stuff :’D For starters, the only prophecy that was meant to be infallible was the one from the bones, since that apparently is Aunt Wu’s specialty. The others weren’t necessarily accurate, or, at least, not necessarily 100% accurate. The order in which the marriages will happen, for instance, could be a complicated thing :’D

But here’s the real logic I was toying with when I decided to feature both the prophecies AND Return to Shu Jing’s big surprise development:

Azula and Sokka aren’t getting married, at the moment, as Azula and Sokka. Legally? The ceremony was held for “Jing” and “Wentai”, they signed their names as that, too :’) And how does this make the prophecy real, you’d wonder? Why... the funny twist is that “Jing” was married to “Roshi” before. And it wasn’t a passionate or fulfilling marriage because they were both interested in other people :’D Let’s circle back to chapter 124: what did Aunt Wu say, exactly...?

"It says one of your marriages will end in separation. Then again, Roshi doesn't love you, so…"

"What? One of my… marriages?" Azula said, her eyes wide.

"Ah, but the other marriage looks rather promising, yes" Aunt Wu replied, beaming "See how short this first line was? Passionless, unfulfilling. The second, on the other hand, is very passionate and overflowing with joy"

:’D see what I’m getting at?

Azula, as “Jing”, has had two marriages by now. One failed, and the other worked! The first marriage wasn’t official, we know that much xD but Jing herself is a fabricated identity. Therefore... the prophecy applies to “Jing” just fine :’D

Now, then, when I said that Aunt Wu’s prophecies don’t need to be 100% accurate, I mainly meant the part where she chooses what counts as the “first” and “second” marriages, as far as the real Azula is concerned. Sokka’s marriage to Azula, as it is now, isn’t exactly legal. This doesn’t mean their devotion or commitment is any less real than it is, of course, but it means that, despite what Azula would have us all believe, she can’t really tell Ozai “I’m already married” when he decides he wants her to get married for good, in the future. There’s no legal proof, no matter if that’s where their hearts are at. So, legally, Princess Azula, sadly, can’t argue for her current, recent marriage to Sokka. Ergo... the first element in the prophecy hasn’t necessarily been fulfilled yet, seen from this point of view.

Another way to look at it is that Azula’s marriages aren’t necessarily going to happen in the order Aunt Wu says they will. Sokka, the happy, long, blissful marriage, could actually happen first... and the other, unfulfilling marriage can be the second one, instead :’D How come? Why, it’s so mysterious, isn’t it? x’D there’s a certain logic to looking at it this way, but I’m not entirely sure I ought to disclose it yet (though it probably would become obvious once the whole story is finished). I know she outright talks about the “first” marriage line, but again, this isn’t Aunt Wu’s best discipline, the bone-reading is. That’s why I featured later that she would get completely contradictory results with other types of readings, such as one that said Azula would have no children, despite the palm-reading said she’d have at least three: her readings aren’t necessarily 100% accurate, so she could have made mistakes in specific details about what Azula’s future would look like. Certain things in the future of our story might not be all that simple and straightforward, let alone easily translated into hand lines :’D

Meanwhile, emotionally, Azula could easily argue he’s her one and only true husband from here on and forever, no matter what may come in the future :’D And that, as well, leans into the angle I mentioned at first: characters make their own choices. Maybe, legally, she’ll have to marry someone else in the future. Maybe, as Jing, she was “married to Roshi”. But deep down Azula chooses to see things differently, and that means she’s willfully disregarding Aunt Wu’s prophecies in her own way, too.

Aaaanyways. In conclusion, there’s multiple angles from which to look at the prophecies:

Destiny is connected to people’s choices, ergo, Aunt Wu’s prophecies can be wrong/broken.

“Jing” was married to “Roshi” and the marriage ended in separation, as Aunt Wu predicted: now her second marriage to “Wentai” corresponds with the happier marriage Aunt Wu referred to.

Princess Azula isn’t legally married to anyone yet, ergo, no elements of the prophecy have been fulfilled yet for Azula’s real self.

Aunt Wu’s predictions aren’t 100% accurate and reliable unless they’re bone-readings, therefore, it’s possible they can be off-mark, or that she makes occasional mistakes when interpreting them.

:’D I hope that wasn’t too confusing. But believe it or not, I did ponder these ideas and potential problems within the story since a veeeeery long time ago xD

[maaaddiexo]

Chapter Three | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

*mentions of mental illness, depression and (attempted) suicide

[Chapter Four] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

Red sky at morn, sailors take warn.

It was a small rhyme that Rosemary could remember her father telling her when he first took her out fishing with him and Daniel. As she had watched the sun rise earlier that morning, she watched as red bled into the sky and knew what was coming.

After lacing up her tall boots, Rosemary slipped into her green peacoat and pulled out her braided hair from underneath the collar. Once she was sure she was set, she placed the folded letter on the kitchen counter next to an unopened bottle of scotch. She wanted her mother to find her letter but not until she was far enough away where she couldn't be found and stopped in time.

Quietly, slipping out the door, Rosemary walked away from her home and into the rain. The walk to the cliffside was no more than twenty minutes, and the storm had yet to hit. It was simply windy and rainy, neither of which bothered Rosemary - especially now. Her tears blended in with the rain and the wind quickly dried them up only to be replaced by more tears and raindrops.

When she finally arrived at the cliffside, she paused. If the weather were better, it would look like her dream. If the sky was clearer, would the water be as blue as the sea in her dreams? For a moment, Rosemary faltered, doubting herself.

Was she really about to do this?

But Rosemary knew the answer. She couldn't go back to an empty house where her mother purposely ignored her and she was faced every day with the possibility that her brother and father may not be returning. So yes, she was about to do this.

Walking forward until she was at the edge of the cliffside, Rosemary looked up to the heavens and let the sobs loose. She'd been holding them back for so long and now with the wind and rain and no one around, she was free to yell and cry and scream. No one would hear her. Thunder rumbled above her and the rain pelted harder against her skin. The storm was above her and she didn't have a care in the world.

She was ready.

Lost in the roar of the storm and the crashing waves below, Rosemary looked up to the sky one last time and whispered, "I love you". And then she stepped forward.

•

The water was ice cold, knocking the breath out of Rosemary immediately. Her coat and shoes weighed her down, pulling her to the bottom faster. It would've made things a lot more difficult for her had she been trying to get to the surface but she wasn't. And even if she wanted to, she couldn't swim. Which was why drowning seemed the best way to go - she couldn't turn back.

Rosemary let herself sink further and further and the little light that still reached her diminished slowly. Her ears and lungs felt like they could pop at any moment, but Rosemary knew that it would soon be peaceful, and she would be gone.

When Rosemary could no longer take the pressure and felt like a balloon about to pop, she closed her eyes and took a breath.

•

"Oh come on! Breathe!"

Rosemary sat up sputtering. Water dripped from her nose and mouth as she fought to get oxygen into her waterlogged lungs. A small hand alternated between patting and rubbing her back until she calmed down.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were dead!" The voice was loving and high-pitched. It had that distinctive motherly note to it - one Rosemary's mother used to use on her.

"Wait, I'm not dead?" And why is it so bloody cold?

"Of course not. Although, you would have been had I pulled you out of the river any later. Silly girl," the voice patronized, though there was no harshness in her voice. "What were you thinking?"

Tears welled in Rosemary's eyes. She was thinking about dying. She wanted to die. She tried to die. And yet she had failed and someone had somehow pulled her out of the river. Wait - river? Rosemary had jumped into the English Channel which was attached to the sea. It surely wasn't a river.

For the first time, Rosemary looked up and gasped at the sight in front of her. She had no clue where she was, but it definitely wasn't England. Everywhere she looked was white. Every surface in sight was covered in an untouched blanket of snow.

"Where am I?" Her voice was quiet, and broke as she spoke.

"Why, you're in Narnia, my dear. Are you alright?" The body the voice belonged to came around to face to Rosemary and she screeched at what she saw. It was a beaver. "Deary? Are you alright?"

"You...you're a beaver."

"Well, obviously," the female beaver chuckled. "I don't really look like anything else, do I?"

In her shocked state, Rosemary managed to backtrack. "I mean - you're a beaver who is talking."

"We all do," the beaver said simply.

Rosemary shook her head for a moment, her frozen hair knocking against her cheeks. "I'm sorry - 'we'?"

The beaver smiled again and cocked her head to the side. "Tell you what. It's cold and you're soaking wet, so why don't we head back to the dam and you can warm up and I'll answer any and all questions you have as best as I can."

That sounded like a fair deal so Rosemary nodded and slowly stood up on wobbly legs. Standing straight, she was more exposed to the elements and could feel the wind and cold air on her skin and wet clothes. Her hair and clothes had already begub to freeze. The last thing that Rosemary wanted was to catch pneumonia with only a beaver to treat her. Did they even have doctors or nurses here? In...Narnia?

Rosemary's feet felt sluggish as she trudged behind the lady beaver. "I know we haven't been walking long but how much further? I can't really feel my body," she smiled sheepishly, though the lady beaver didn't turn around to see it.

"Just around the corner, dear. And then we'll get you all warmed up and fed."

Seeing the bend in the river not too far ahead, Rosemary was motivated to move a little faster and reach their warm destination sooner. Her lips were probably purple and her fingers could have fallen off twenty steps ago and she wouldn't have noticed. Both hands were clamped under her armpits, but seeing as her clothes were sopping wet, not much warmth was provided.

"Here we are!" Looking up, Rosemary stared a large dam built in the ice and light coming from within. Was anybody else home? "Beaver is out right now but he should be back for dinner. I hope you like fish and chips."

Rosemary actually hated fish but she didn't have the heart to tell the lady beaver that. She would force the disgusting meal down if she had to. She wouldn't turn anything away that was given to her by someone who had saved her life - even though she had tried to end it no more than thirty minutes ago.

Rosemary had to get on her hands and knees to crawl through the doorway, but once she was inside, she could stand to her full height of five-foot-five. Looking around the room while the lady beaver went down on all fours and shook herself dry, Rosemary saw a bed in the far right corner, a makeshift kitchen, a dining room table, and a sitting area.

"This is incredible," Rosemary whispers in awe. Who knew beavers lived so lavishly.

"Thank you. But the credit really goes to Beaver - my husband. He's the builder and the designer. I just feed the fat lump. You can call me Mrs. Beaver."

Rosemary looked down at the friendly creature who was smiling up at her with warm eyes and an outstretched hand - well, paw. Grabbing it as nonchalantly as she could (seeing as she's never actually shook hands with a beaver or any creature for that matter), Rosemary shook hands with Mrs. Beaver. "I'm Rosemary. It's lovely to meet you."

"The pleasure's all mine, Rosemary," Mrs. Beaver replied. "Now take off some of those layers and lay them out by the fire to dry. Beaver and I have found some clothes over the years that we keep in a trunk by the bed. We use them mostly as blankets, but you're welcome to sort through and see if there's anything that fits you."

Rosemary didn't need to be told twice. She quickly laid out her peacoat by the fire before finding the trunk Mrs. Beaver was talking about. It was wooden, with beautiful and intricate designs carved into it. On the front at the center, the designs all focused on the carving of a lion mid-roar. Rosemary took a moment, tracing her fingers over the designs much like a blind person reading brail.

Inside was even more extraordinary. Both male and female clothing had been folded neatly and placed inside. Rosemary picked out a pair of stockings, a long-sleeved dress close enough to her size, and a belt.

"Is there someplace I can change?" Rosemary asked timidly.

"Not really. Beaver and I don't really wear clothes," Mrs. Beaver mused. "But I won't look and Beaver won't be back for at least another hour. Do you want some tea?"

"Oh, yes please."

In any other situation, Rosemary would be hesitant to change in front of someone else - especially someone she had just met. But she was freezing and didn't really care anymore. Part of her was convinced she was dead and this was her hallucinating before she fully drowned. Turning her back to Mrs. Beaver, Rosemary changed as quickly as she could. Though the dress and stockings were thin - definitely not ones made for winter - they were dry and already she felt a little bit warmer.

Letting Mrs. Beaver know that it was okay to turn back around, Rosemary moved to lay her wet clothes out by the fire. "So, you said you would answer some of my questions?"

[Chapter Four] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

[wishfuledarchive]

[ sofia carson. cisfemale. demisexual.] wearable art and a fresh manicure always remind me of sojourner ‘georgie’ avara, who happens to be a twenty four year old art history + restoration student. they are known for being alluring and selfish which probably explains why they are into impact play & service submission. 

this is long just so y’all know before you even start, if you make it through this whole thing you deserve all the good things in the universe. smash that heart & i’ll slide in your dms for plots. this applies for all of the intros that will be posted following this one. before liking please make sure you’ve read my intros and have some idea of where you’d like the plots to go before liking, if you need ideas there are a bunch listed at the end of their intros ! ♡ 

backstory 

           Sojourner Avara was born to Amelia and Javier Avara. He was an investment banker and financial advisor to some of the most powerful people in the city. She was a journalist from America who moved abroad to work at La Paris Journal, she thought she’d be doing hard hitting ground breaking journalist but has spent most of her career writing puff pieces. Just as Amelia was ready to cut her losses and move back home she met Javi. He was sweet, charming, funny and instantly she fell for him. They were married after a year of dating and a few months later they found out they were expecting their first and only child, any dreams Amelia had of leaving the city were banished with the first kick of her baby. From the moment she was born Javier was certain that Georgie would do great things. Without a second thought to the jump in he moved their family from their rundown apartment in the heart of the city to a multi bedroom palace in the suburban paradise to give her a chance to blend in with those from High Society. He started her training young, enrolling her in the same preschools as them, using the same nannies, tutors even maids as them.

           Growing up Georgie loved her life, they went to events, luncheons and even Christmas parties by some of the oldest families in the city. Everytime she had to meet a new person her father would lavish her in new dresses, shoes and hairbows it made her feel like a princess. She loved going to their homes that seemed like castles, she’d always find time to slip away and wall down the grand halls of their homes in awe of their family portraits some dating back to the start of the city. She knew that that’s what she wanted, to leave behind a legacy for her family. Something they could be proud of, passed down from generation to generation so that even a hundred years from now someone like her would be standing in the position she was, staring up at a portrait of her. She was a child then, she didn’t understand that to be apart of this club, she had to be born in. 

          At age thirteen the real world came crashing into Georgie’s life for the first time. She’d gotten an A on an essay that she and her father had stayed up all night working on, he’d read and reread it so many times that he could say it outloud to her by heart. Instead of going home she begged her driver to take her to her father’s office instead. The guards all smiled when she arrived, walking with her to the elevator and buzzing her onto her father’s floor she waved to everyone in the office as if she was a princess in a parade as she made her way down the hall. It didn’t seem strange to her that his secretary wasn’t out front until she barged into his office and found her pinned against a wall while her father was hastily unbuttoning her shirt. She froze, so did he. They both just stared at the other for a moment before his secretary broke away and hastily fixed her shirt as she scurried out the door. How could he do something like this? To her, to her mother? She wanted to push him out of the window and see if he’d survive the twenty story fall. He forced Georgie to promise to keep what she saw to herself, that mama would be very mad at her if she said anything. Wanting to keep the peace, to keep her family in tact. She stayed silent. Though her relationship with her father was never the same. 

          Two years later things went from bad to worse. There were rumors floating around about Javier, how clients were coming in to talk about their portfolios and him not having anything to show them, being unable to take out money they’d invested that he said had turned a profit and then one day, like smoke. He was gone. Before he could be arrested he’d disappeared into the night with over five million dollars. Leaving Amelia to raise Georgie with no money and a tarnished reputation. All of the connections she’d made with those in high society were gone, many of her friends parents had invested money with her father and now as a result, wanted nothing to do with her. It was a harsh reality that switched a light in the young girl. She could remember having conversations with her father where he told her that money was the only thing that mattered, and he was right. The instant their money was gone, so was her life. 

          Amelia was forced to take Georgie out of her private school, sell their house and move back the city. She didn’t want to make it harder for her mother so she didn’t say anything, she didn’t complain as her dresses began to fade, she didn’t ask for new clothes, she swallowed the food that tasted like dust and she locked her ball of rage in a box and tucked it deep within herself. Deciding instead to control as much of her life as she could. Refusing to allow herself to wind up in an another chaotic situation. Her mother quickly remarried and almost overnight the life Georgie knew was back, to a degree. They moved from Paris to her mother’s hometown in Austin, Texas. She didn’t have to worry about food, or shelter. She got to buy whatever she wanted and even go back to private school.

         It’s been over ten years since her father disappeared. She doesn’t think about him anymore but he’s had more influence over her life than she’d like to admit. His desire to be financially stable, to be successful, to be the best of the best is embedded so deeply into her subconscious that it rules her every move. 

personality 

Is very bossy, thinks they know everything, is naturally a leader but can be a bit overbearing and forceful however she’s mad ambitious, she has big plans for herself and her career and she won’t stop until she’s at the top

Understands that the key to success is to NETWORK so social relationships are very important to her, she goes through a lot of hoops to make sure that her image is always up to par 

Constantly stalking social media, all of which is perfectly curated btw 

Honestly she doesn’t like conflict, she’s not the type of girl who will start a fight with someone or put someone down purposely. She wants peace and harmony for everyone. 

She’s a wee bit sensitive, like yell at her and she will probably not act like it bothers her but then go to the bathroom and cry. She’s especially sensitive to criticism!! 

While she is very emotional, her emotions take precedence over everything else. If she feels something she has to get it off her chest right away so she can move on with the rest of her day without being upset.  

She’s got v expensive tastes, she’s always been drawn to beauty and the finer things in life - it’s why she fell in love with art at a young age 

Though she is ambitious she’s not aggressive in the way she goes about it, she’s more of the charm the pants off of anyone and everyone around her so of course she gets the opportunity you wanted

Very responsible, organized, trustworthy (at times), she’ll rarely jump to conclusions or take uneducated risks 

Might not always show it but she’s very loyal to the people she cares about

She’s naturally trustworthy, and doesn’t have much patience for those who don't show respect for others, who take foolish risks, and who lead disorganized lives.

Suffers from inner tension and negative, self-destructive behavior - when things are going well, she constantly fears that something will come along to change that (naturally this becomes a self fulfilling prophecy)

She puts a lot of pressure on herself when it comes to her endeavors and because of this tends to feel immensely dissatisfied with herself and her accomplishments, she’s honestly never satisfied when it comes to anything she does there’s always something she could have done better. 

She doesn’t feel like she can show her real self to anyone, and tbh she doesn’t even know who her “real” self is anymore - maybe she never did in the first place 

Has an extreme fear of losing control, as such, she can be intensely fearful of, or threatened by, change. 

She's most comfortable with the darker side of her nature than the lighter aspects. 

Super impatient, she lives life in the moment and waiting for something to happen is like waiting for death. 

She’s very much so in her head, at times she’ll intellectualize her emotions instead of feeling them. She doesn’t do anything without planning it out so she hella doesn’t get people who’ve committed crimes of passion or excessively emotional 

She'll rarely sulk or play any drawn-out games of manipulation, you can pretty much know what she'll want at any given time.

She is a sexual person but she needs to have an emotional connection to feel sexually fulfilled - her intellectual nature allows her to have casual sexual connections which she often uses to advance her career

Venus in Pisces people project themselves as dreamy, soft-hearted partners. Everything about the way they flirt promises a lovely time. Theirs is an elusive charm -- they are sweetly playful, a little moody, and perhaps a little irregular. They appreciate romance and poetry, and they prefer to "feel out" both you and the relationship you share, so don't expect too much planning ahead.

wanted connections 

enemies / rivals 

friends turned enemies 

friends who only like georgie bc she’s the queen bee 

friends who want to overthrow her 

forced friends (i.e their parents are bffs so we have to hang out but idk if i actually like you)

lab partner 

drinking / partying buddies bonus points if they only get along while fucked up - this could also be romantic tbh

dance team members bonus points if your chara needs help w/ dance and georgie is just determined to make them good 

dance partner 

someone who knows about georgie’s dad and is blackmailing her (no one at ulysses knows abt her dad but this muse)

the reckless muse who drags perfect lil georgie into mess 24/7

the muse who just wants to know georgie and she’s keeping them 10 ft away at all times bc NO YOU CANT KNOW ABOUT MY PAST SO STAWP ASKING 

georgie thinks your muse hates them, or vice versa and they share a cigarette/drink/cab late at night and find out that’s not true 

someone who has a crush on georgie & she takes advantage of that (makes them help her w/ homework, buy her coffee, carry her books etc but does noTHING for them)

[dyinglightroleplay]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

NAME : Arabella Petra Figg RELATIONSHIP TO THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX : Member ( active - duty ), On-call Non - Magical Physician AGE / BIRTHDATE : 37 Years Old / born 16 July 1942 at 10:02pm EST ZODIAC SIGN : Cancer ( sun ), Virgo ( moon ), Aquarius ( rising ) EDUCATION : Université de Paris / Université Pierre-et-Marie-Curie ( MD ) BLOOD STATUS : Pureblood Squib

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

✧     Benjy Fenwick ( platonic ) ✧     Peter Pettigrew ( antagonistic ) ✧     Gabriel McKinnon ( player’s choice )

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍.

Directing the makeshift infirmary created at Order Headquarters following the Battle of Hogwarts.  She’s yet to hear a full report of the battle’s events.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍.

PLAYER : Mod Rivka FACECLAIM : Rachelle Lefevre URL : @aerabella

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: BLOOD SUPREMACY, GASLIGHTING, ALLUSIONS TO THE SHOAH, WAR

ZERO / RISING. * How is your character perceived by others?  What mask do they wear, and is there more than one?

The biggest current conflict in Arabella's life is, frankly, that she's essentially leading two of them --- --- she's spending her days ( and three nights a week on call ) at Charing Cross Hospital, working as a general surgeon, and her nights ( and nearly every waking hour she isn't working ) making herself available for Order business.  These two worlds hardly dovetail in any convenient, meaningful way, and often, Arabella feels more like she's being slowly - pulled apart between them than she is bridging any sort of gap.  And, as the War progresses this feeling only intensifies for her, bringing a new companion in doubt.  Albus' move to the Ministry saw one of her major remaining ties to the Magical world frayed, and she can't help but feel lost ; the disintegration of her relationship with Alastor, no matter how necessary or mutual, hasn't helped that.  Arabella has always relied on her uncanny ability to seek strongholds in people, rather than places, in friends rather than family, to keep herself tethered to the life she's chosen.  But even that is called into question as the Order steadily begins to turn inward, as bonds strain, as the stakes raise in ways she's not even certain herself she can withstand.  

Something I'd really like to investigate with Arabella is how much of her literal existence is affected by continual, subtle gaslighting --- --- even unconsciously, bias lives so intertwined with Magical politics that not a single day goes by where she doesn't question her place in this world, or her ability to participate in it.  Losing Albus’ influence only fuels this, leaves her unsteady enough to begin to doubt her own competence, her own power ; while she may not have Magic, she's never felt its lack as keenly as she has in the days since the news of the Battle of Hogwarts broke.  And of course, she's grown used to fighting this, she's grown used to proving herself time and again at tests that never would have been presented to her if she could wield a wand.  But the weight of displacement wears, a quiet wound she doesn't dare mention for fear of seeming too needy, too weak, too much.  Arabella has spent her life taught, continually, that who she is, who she was born to be, is something of an accident, a problem, a tragedy, something to be hidden or forgotten, something to be ashamed of.  And the fear in that self - fulfilling prophecy --- that by asking for help, that by speaking about her insecurity or her fear, that by appearing anything but self - possessed and certain she's somehow proving them right --- keeps her from growing past it.Additionally, I'd really like to explore the shape Arabella's role in the Order takes, as a non-magical person.  We know that she spends her life as this 'double agent', continuing undercover and keeping an eye on Harry as he grows up on Privet Drive --- --- how does she get to that point?  What about her training, her personality drew Dumbledore to that conclusion, fostered that trust?  And what is she doing now, in his absence?  She's a woman with military training, an accomplished physician, but these are not valuable skills to Magical eyes ; how does Arabella translate her accomplishments for Magical colleagues in order to establish her competence and earn their regard?  And what does she do with it, once she's finally managed to earn it?  What inspires her to carry on even after the fall of You Know Who, even after Lily and James' deaths?  Why does she continue to devote her life to a world that has, from the moment she was born, tried so hard to forget her ?

And perhaps it's the nature of a woman brought up across two worlds, but Arabella is a woman of contradictions.  She is brutally soft, she is tender in equal measure as she is tough.  From a very young age, she understood that she, and she alone, was responsible for her happiness, for her safety, for her security, for her love.  Coming of age the non-magical child of pureblood parents taught her early that no one would make space for her, if she did not demand it.  And does that necessarily always make her the easiest to get along with?  Of course not.  But has it made her singleminded, driven, powerful in ways that she would not have been otherwise ?  Absolutely.  She exists in a space entirely of her own making, and taking that space is a purposeful, continual choice.  Arabella is, above all, protective of this, and careful to only allow people into that space who will respect it, or help her maintain it.

Ruled by her emotions ( a true water sign ! ), Arabella thinks with her heart, with her gut.  She's intelligent, well - spoken and well - educated, but pragmatism doesn't serve her ; she's action - oriented, stubborn, and proactive.  Still, she is steady - handed, and is less about the rush of acting before thinking and more about the dominant emotion of the action --- --- while she allows her emotions to dictate her choices, time has given her the benefit of perception and self - awareness.  She learnt empathy long before she decided to pursue medicine, and discovered the joy in using her perceptiveness to bring others peace early in life.  Guided, always, by her heart, Arabella presents a calming, opening presence, but it is not one that she abides being used or taken for granted.  And again, this is where her fundamental duality comes into play ; she can be generous, kind, and affectionate with those she trusts with those energies, but she can be equally cold, distant, or aggressive with people who've proven themselves unworthy of that emotional labor.  Protecting herself --- because, truthfully, she doesn't trust others to do it --- takes precedence here.

A classic introvert, Arabella can come across as quiet or aloof, but her rich inner life --- and vibrant energy, shown to those who know her well --- fills her time and keeps her from retreating inward or closing herself off fully.  However, she has a distinct confrontational side, and one that is not always to her advantage ; Arabella wears her anger, just like her heart, on her sleeve.  Despite this, she is not a good arguer, preferring instead to sort through her own feelings first to address her needs, if possible.  Sensitivity and intuition rule here, as well, and while Arabella is at her most obvious when angry or frustrated, she is very particular about whether or not 'fighting it out' will serve her, or simply take away her peace.  This combination is interesting, especially for a woman who prioritizes herself, especially for a woman stretched between two worlds as she is --- --- Arabella is, truly, the sort of unbothered who can decide if a confrontation will not be worth it long before it comes to a head.  In this way, her anger is valuable to her --- --- not as a weapon, but as a means to separate out what is and is not worth her investment. 

ONE / THE SUN. * Choose one to explore : what about their personality, general preferences, sense of self / ego, or fundamental traits attracted you to them?

I have .... so quickly fallen in love with Arabella, in the same way I fell in love with Davey, as an opportunity to really dig deep and explore intersections in this universe that don't usually get much attention.  With Arabella, there's a chance to delve into how Squibs interact with the magical world in a time where their very existence is questioned even more than it usually is --- --- where do Squibs fall in the hierarchy desired by blood purists ?  What part of their identity is more valuable, is more important, is more easily leveraged, politically and interpersonally ?  And what does it feel like to be part of a sub - group so small that you might very well be the only you you know ?  But even beyond that, Arabella presents the opportunity to look into the worth of a woman's work, and how its gauged in a society that fundamentally considers her to be 'broken'.  Children raised in magical homes who end up without magic don't have that Hogwarts Moment that Muggleborn children do ; at eleven years old, at ten, maybe even earlier, Arabella's entire world got infinitely smaller, rather than broader.  She was raised in one culture and fundamentally turned out of it, how does she cope with the intersection ?  What life does she chose ?  How does a Witch who can't perform magic parse her own identity and how does she go about making space for herself to just exist ?  And all of this, of course, viewed with the Dark Lord's war as the backdrop .... I can't wait to tell the rest of her story.  I can't wait to hear it.

The Order is not Arabella's first time amongst soldiers, but it is undoubtedly her first time fearing for them.  Albus was never a man of great explication, preferring to work as close to omnisciently as possible in what was, at least she'd believed, an attempt to protect anyone else from the pain and loss of the great labor of war.  But as the recruits skewed younger, as the faces seated 'round the meeting's table grew rounder, softer, before they became fewer altogether, Arabella caught herself thinking less and less like an Officer.  And the newest ones, the youngest ones, they are fierce and indomitable in ways the Order undoubtedly needs to re - invigorate their efforts, but is that worth this ?  Is that worth losing them ?  It seems absurd that a world of magic, armed with the fantastic and limited only imagination, could fall so easily into a pattern repeated in the wake of the waste laid to the Muggle world mere decades before.  She wants to be hopeful, she wants to see that ferocity and conviction and let it reassure her, let it comfort her, let it reignite her own fire.  But Wizards are so ineffably human, in this way --- --- as prone to mistakes as they are to a fervent refusal to acknowledge them.  So she worries, instead.

TWO / THE MOON. * Which color would you associate most strongly with them and the emotions that dominate them?  Describe however you’d like.

MUTED TONES.  Lavender, clary sage, rose quartz --- --- soft but lingering, perfumed, precious, protective.  Spring rain on windowpanes making watercolor, worn - in knits, velvet or silk, the thatch of an aging floral sofa run - through with unmistakable cat scratches yet beloved all the same, comfortable all the same.  Multi - colored capsules and oils, blood seeping pink through the white threads of sterile gauze, the faint - orange stains of iodine left behind and the quiet yellow of sterile soap caught under cut - short fingernails.  The blue - lipped hush of the operating theatre, and the lavender tinge of dawn that greets her as she leaves ; sunset - colors of desert and death, white enveloping as some believe it will always do, when life leaves this world.  The sweet melt of candlelight across a familiar face, the pale gold pinch of a well - baked challah, burnished gold and the cream droplets of dried wax. 

THREE / MERCURY. * What is this character’s area of expertise? Where do they excel?

Several years of Medical study and residency later, Arabella is currently practicing as a hospital - based general surgeon.  She spent two tours of French Army duty as a field medic, first at eighteen ( and simply an assistant ) and again at 35 and running her own team.  She's also an active participant in Médecins Sans Frontières, helping to train younger physicians in field strategies they might use abroad, and while she hasn't yet had the pleasure of taking a humanitarian trip herself --- blame this war, of course --- she very, very much wants to.

Despite being unable to accomplish any Magic on her own, Arabella takes careful consideration and great pride in finding and placing protective objects and plants in her personal spaces.  Growing up so entrenched in Magical culture meant she sees the efficacy --- and the appeal --- of utilizing crystals, candles, oils or scents, and herbs for their healing, safeguarding, and enriching properties.  She's also a rather adept Tarot reader --- --- the grey area between everyday magic and Magic is expansive.  

[dp-pastandpresent]

Past and Present: Chapter 12

Sarah quickly removed her rather thick glasses, rubbed her eyes, and then replaced them. Still, he was there.

"Uhhhh…." was all she could say.

'I had guessed, but never thought it could really be true. It CAN'T be true! How?'

he had tried to become invisible when Sarah did the glasses thing, but his body seemed to be thinking otherwise, as he his attempt to do so failed. After all, he had come here with a mission. No, this wasn't how he had planned to go about it, but he knew what had to be done.

"Sarah?" he rather squeaked out. Indeed, he was shocked too.

To his surprise, it was Sam who answered first.

"Wait? What is going on here? Grandma?"

But she still couldn't answer. Somehow she had just gone stiff.

'This is impossible! Danny—sort of—here? Now? And at THAT AGE?'

Before either of them could say anything more, Sarah fell backwards in her chair, completely passed out.

--

When Sarah came to, she found herself lying on Sam's bed, out of her chair, Danny's green eyes gazing down at her.

"Ah!"

"Grandma?! Are you okay?" It was Sam's voice that finally got Sarah out of her trance.

"Sam…? Is that you, honey? I must still be dreaming. You're here, and that's normal, but how can—?"

"Grandma, what is—"

Before she could finish, Danny cut her off.

"Sarah. You're not dreaming. It's me. Danny."

He had finally managed to let it all out. Everything that had been building up since he realized the relationship had all come down to this moment.

"Danny? But… how?"

She had finally sat up, which meant that Danny was now sitting across from her, still looking straight into her eyes. Next to her, Sam was seated on the edge of the bed, utter confusion on her face.

'I wish he'd stop that. It's really intimidating. Those aren't even the eyes I remember.'

"It's a very long story, believe me." Now that she knew it was him, he let out a small smile.

'I knew she'd never truly forget. I didn't.'

"I do, I think," Sarah replied firmly.

"Wait! Hold on. What is going on here?" Sam had finally absorbed their conversation enough to get the idea that somewhere along the line, someone had forgotten to mention something to her.

"Sam, I wanted to tell you. And I was actually going to before Sarah showed up today…" Danny began.

"Wait? Sarah? You know her name? You've never even met until today…"

"No, Sam. We've met before…" Danny continued, turning back to Sarah for support; sadly, she wasn't much help. Apparently this all still seemed suspicious to her too.

Things in Sam's mind began to click. The looks her Grandma had been giving her during those news stories. The similar tastes in music. The scattered reaction Danny had had when she told him her name.

"When? How? What?" were the only words that came out of Sam's mouth, and Danny knew he had to start at the beginning.

"We dated. Fifty years ago. When I was still alive," he said bluntly and without any enthusiasm.

--

"Well that didn't go very well."

Danny was now sitting on the edge of the bed, Sarah was in her chair. After learning the truth, Sam had gotten up and stormed out, not wanting to hear another word.

After a few short minutes of silence, Danny finally broke.

"Sarah, talk to me.

She turned to him and squinted. Finally she opened her mouth only to say, "I don't know. This can't be real."

"Believe me, I know. When I was first resurrected, I had no memory of anything except where I was from."

"Resurrected?" So then… you're alive?"

'I saw that coming. Hmmmm, what do I say? Yes, I am alive, but I'm really not. I'm a ghost. Sort of The ghosts people see in movies are nothing like what I am. I am more than that. Or part of me is, otherwise these memories wouldn't exist. Right? And then there's apparently a prophecy about me being of both realms?'

These were all very good questions Danny found himself asking, but had never found an answer to.

"No Sarah, I'm not alive. Not really. I'm a ghost." He sighed, admitting the reality of his existence.

"So you did die that night?" she asked.

"Yes."

"How?"

He'd been expecting that one too, but once again he was unsure how to answer. He remembered how he had died, the one thing all ghosts remember, but until recently he hadn't remembered the details. But all the rescues he'd been doing had finally allowed the memories to come back. However, saying it out loud would only make it real, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that.

But he had to be. For her sake.

"That night, the night before graduation."

"Yeah, I remember. You were at my place and my parents made you leave early, and you made fun of me and my curfew."

Sarah was old, but memories like this never left.

Danny stayed silent; he didn't remember the details the way she had.

"You never called."

"What?"

"You were supposed to call me later when you got home."

She really did remember those small details.

"Sorry, I didn't call, but I had a good reason. I stopped that night, to get you flowers. We were together, more than friends, but we had never really reached that level of a real couple and I was going away soon, and you were staying behind. I just wanted you to know before I left…"

To Danny's surprise, things were coming back very clearly now. When he first remembered that night, his death, and her, he only remembered bits and pieces. Now, however, he was remembering everything exactly as it happened. Funny how things worked out that way.

"Danny…"

"Shh, I'm on a roll; let me finish. I walked by a local shop on my way home, advertising discount flowers, and it made me realize how I felt."

'How did you feel?' But before she could say that out loud, he continued.

"I was at the register when the robber showed up. He demanded the money and the clerk refused. Any other robber would have pulled out a gun, but this guy had a bomb."

He heard a faint gasp come from Sarah.

"He threw it. And in no time flat the whole store was on fire. It was late enough that it was a pretty empty store, but still the shock and flames hit me and I passed out before I could even begin running. I never made it out and by the time the firemen came, it was too late. I was gone. "

Sarah sat and listened. Thinking back, she did remember reports on a fire of unknown causes at the grocery store, but the reporter said all victims were unidentifiable. Danny, her Danny, had been one of them. How had she, let alone his family, never put the pieces together?

They both just sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing what had just been said. Finally, it was Sarah who broke the silence this time.

"Why flowers? Why were you coming back to my place after we had seen each other so recently?"

"I realized something that night when I left. Knowing we wouldn't have a lot of time left to make things happen."

'Oh, I hope this isn't what I think it is! After all these years, I may finally know…'

--

At that moment, Sam had decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Standing outside the door, she was about to knock when she heard it.

"Sarah, I was in love with you."

They sat in silence for a little while, unaware of the fact that Sam was outside.

'Love? Danny? MY Danny was in LOVE with my GRANDMA? So does that make all of this, our relationship, a lie?'

--

Sarah was the one to break the silence this time.

"Danny, that night, after you didn't call, I was really worried about you. And then you didn't show up at school. I was heartbroken. I have been ever since."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I knew that it could have waited. There would have been plenty of opportunities for what I had planned. "

"You had no way of knowing what would happen, though. It was unexpected."

"But still, I left you, defenseless, way too early."

If there was anything that Danny had begun to feel lately, it was remorse for leaving Sarah all those years ago.

"I moved on... I met another man, and had amazing children, and Samantha too!" Sarah perked up. If there was one good thing that had come from all this mess, it was Sam.

"You did, and I'm glad. I never would have wanted you unhappy."

This was becoming very weird for Danny. The warmth he had felt during his recent conversation with Sam was coming back as he told his story. And his story? Danny hadn't been able to remember this much since he came back, so why did he suddenly know what had happened, and how to feel about it? It was as if someone else was feeding the memories to him.

Sam, on the other hand, was still dead silent, simply from shock. She had known that Danny wasn't from her time — he was a ghost, after all — but she had never expected THIS.

"I still was, though. I did move on, and I still went to community college like I had decided, but I barely had the energy to care. After losing you, there wasn't any real reason to. I guess maybe I was in love too."

Her glasses had begun to fog up, which only meant tears. For the first time in a long time, she was crying. She had wished for this day, the chance to see Danny again, several times after his death, but had never expected it to happen. Now, though, after having moved on and raised a family, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Tom had always tried to help her forget the horrors of her past, and she had finally done so, only to have them return.

"Tom always tried his best to help me through this. Since the day we met, he knew I was troubled, and knew he'd have a lot of work on his hands, but he never complained. He was my rock when I had hit the bottom, and for awhile we prospered. But I never forgot you, Danny, never!"

"I wish I could say the same," Danny commented quietly.

"Hmm?"

"When Clockwork, the time ghost, resurrected me, I couldn't remember anything. I didn't even know my own name."

"Then how did you just remember all that?"

"I don't know. I mean, I was resurrected for the sole purpose of fixing Jack and Maddie's portal. They had everything right, but Clockwork knew it wouldn't work unless they sent a ghost through. So that's why I'm here. They wanted someone who knew the town, and there were no ghosts in the Ghost Zone who were qualified."

"So they found you?"

"Apparently, every human who dies is sent to a sort of ghost-graveyard. Their souls still exist, just not their bodies. It took some work, but Clockwork finally cracked the code to resurrection. Every other ghost until now has either been formed in the zone from loose ectoplasm, or appeared right after their death. But not me. You're looking at the first ghost to ever be brought back from the dead."

"And all so they'd have someone who knew the town be the one to fix the portal? That sounds like a lot of work."

"Well, from what I was told, it would be rather difficult to make it back, so they wanted someone who wouldn't cause trouble, in case there was no way of getting back to the ghost zone. You would not believe how devious most ghosts are. Obviously, once I was brought back, I had a lot to learn."

"If you didn't remember, how would it matter whether or not you came back? You wouldn't have remembered anyway."

Sarah was growing very confused, very fast.

"I was getting there. Clockwork, the Master of Time as he's called, was able to pull up memories from my life and show them all to me. Just the simple ones: mostly of my family, the town. How I died. Only really a few of you…"

Danny actually felt ashamed of that.

"All that work, to make a portal work?"

"I've been getting this feeling lately there was more to it."

"So if he had to show you your own memories, how did you remember all this stuff you just told me?"

The feeling that someone else was feeding him information hit again as he tried to find an answer to Sarah's questions.

'Does Clockwork know more than he let on? Is it possible that my human memories return the longer I'm here?'

Danny finally decided to settle on a rather pathetic answer.

"You know, I can't answer all your questions. I know you expect answers, but sometimes I just can't supply them, okay?"

He was beginning to get a bit annoyed. He had expected questions, but never really thought about how to answer them.

Sarah just looked away, a little put out, before finally saying, "Sorry, it's just been SO long and I just… hoped."

"It's ok. But you do realize that I'm a GHOST right? I'm here, but I'm also not. What we once had, that can never be. We both moved on…"

It was silent for awhile, both of them lost in their thoughts of each other and the past.

Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "Well, maybe we should see if Sam is ok." 

--

At the sound of this, Sam quickly ran back down the stairs and out of the house.

'Danny and my grandma. Fifty years ago. Ghost zone, Clockwork. Memories. Love.'

It was the last thought that got to Sam the most. Love. They had loved each other once, something she thought she had found. But now, after all she heard, Sam began to wonder if it was all just false emotions.

--

"It's about time you found her."

Staring at his domed screen, staff in hand, the ghost smirked.

"I should have told you about all the memories I stole, but I didn't want you rushing into things. I've been trying to save them for the perfect moment, but you've made it so hard with the girl."

He quickly became older before adding, "The girl. What to do about the girl? She's becoming a nuisance, but ever so essential to the prophecy."

Turning to float away, he took one last peek at the ghost child and elderly woman sitting on the bed.

"I guess time will tell"

[shardclan]

The doors of the Clan Hall shuddered open and scattered the solemn peace. Azricai flinched, but did not reprimand Arcanus. Something was wrong. She had been feeling the discord outside grow all morning, and his’ worry was visible well before he was close enough for it to manifest as a nauseous heaviness in her antennae.

One of his palms faced the ceiling, held open at his waist with care. His voice was full of subtle ripples and unusual edges as he splayed it out for her. “It’s Rebis.”

Her stomach sank, and only more so when she read the fading gold letters inscribed on his skin.

No crown Bstlcn thrall ?Rnva? Inner garden noon Help

Azricai’s cane groaned and her bony knuckles popped. A gust swept around her ankles and rushed out into the courtyard in search of even a trace of the fae queen. Through the arcades, into the garden, as far out as the Tahalil Infirmary. Further and further until her forehead gem grew hot and a vicious ache spread through her horns.

“Stop.” He pressed his hand heavily over hers, until he felt the releasing flex of her tendons. “She lapsed right after she wrote this. You won’t find her now.”

“Of course…” Azricai answered weakly. The gust settled, and she pressed her fingers to her temples. “You wouldn’t have…let her out of your sight in any other case. How do we find her?”

“At noon in the inner garden. We have little else to trust in this situation but Rebis’ message. Get everyone away from here. Bestealcian is dangerous, and Titi-tet may be nearby.” He paused in the middle of a turn to go prepare, and met her eyes. “You have the strongest mind I have ever known. If Dust broke free, I have no doubt the astral would find your will impossible to subdue, but–”

She tried a reassuring smile, but she struggled with an ominous guilt. Then and there was not the time to distract him from his charge. But the memory of her time with Lavi persisted.“I will guard my sight. Guard yours as well–Rebis is not the only one of our leaders who needs you.”

Bright green stalks tipped with yellow and blue bulbs reached for the sky around Rebis’ head. She had lapsed once or twice since escaping Rubranova, but never much later in the day than high noon in the arcade. The implications worried her. She still had the will to retrieve her crown, but her nerves were frayed, her body sluggish from too many spikes of adrenaline, and her mind disoriented by the disjointed and out-of-sequence way she was living through the day.

She needed a moment. Just a moment.

The scent of damp soil and unbloomed flowers lulled her with familiar comfort. She could not help but relish the warmth of the sun and the smooth, cool touch of young leaves against her forehead.

“Gross.”

Rebis’ breath caught in her throat. She had no idea what time of day it was, or if she had timelapsed again. A risked glance at her hands told her she was still using the light-bending skill. So if she just stayed still–

“Are you supposed to be dead or somethin?” the blithely cheerful voice guessed.  

She looked up into the smooth, golden eyes of an imperial cub perched on the squat arcade balustrade. A brief wave went through Rebis, a dizzy magnetism that made her want to lay back down. But atop the golden head was the crown. She sat up, and snatched for it, but the hatchling smacked her hand.

“Rude!”

“That’s my crown,” Rebis gritted.

“Nuh uh, this is mine. I got it as a gift~”

“There is only one white celestine crown. And it’s rightful place…is on my head.” She took a steadying breath, stood, and gathered up her light magic. “I’ll be taking it back, astral.”

Titi sneered, and reared up to her full height, wiggling the crown well out of Rebis’ reach. “Haha~ You can’t reach it can you. Tiny queen, tiny queen~ Come on, let’s see you jump for it. Maybe we can be friends and I’ll let you borrow it from me~”

Rebis’ frills crept upright and her fists tightened. Ranti made the crown to her, even set it on her head. She depended on it for survival, but that hardly mattered at all in that moment. It was the emblem of the promise she’d made. The physical form of Telos’s trust and Lightweaver’s expectations. Seeing it waggled like some cheap trinket scattered all her worries like clouds and replaced them with one singular purpose.

Her thesis spell wasn’t ready. It needed more polish, more practice; but it was all she trusted to have any chance. 

“Envision!”

A golden specter took form between them. The shape of the previous queen towered over Titi-tet, and silenced the astral’s taunts. As she grew solid and present with Rebis’ light magic, the astral cried out.

“That’s not fair!”

The vision of Telos drew her saber and moved with lethal purpose. Titi-tet barely managed to flinch away, but the tip of the blade sliced her from cheek to ear-tip. The crown sailed off into the air, and Rebis tottered backward to catch it.

A dark paw reached over her and neatly swiped it.

Rebis swallowed, and her eyes crept over her shoulder. “Bestealcian…”

The coatl flicked her tongue as casually as ever, and patted Rebis’ head. “That was a neat trick, your Majesty! But was that really called for?” She slipped past Rebis as easily as oil. “Titi’s only a kid, you know.”

“You serve a new master, Umbra Wolf?”

“What?” Her feathers ruffled, and she peered quizzically back at Rebis. “I’m the Hound of Aphaster. I serve the crown.”

“The crown that should sit on my head?”

“Goodness~ That’s quite a selfish streak, your Majesty. Let the kid borrow it. You’ll be fine.”

On the other side of the balustrade, Titi-tet pierced the morning’s peace with her hysterics. “She hit me! I’m bleeding!”

“Well yeah,” Bestealcian snickered. “You didn’t expect her to just sit pretty, did you? She’s gonna be an archmage someday. Come on, no need for a fit. Your Majesty, you should apologize. You cut her up pretty good.”

“I will not,” she answered darkly. “That’s my life she’s playing with.”

Titi-tet whipped up onto the balustrade, her cheek stained and matted by blood. Her face was twisted in fury. “It’s MINE!” she shrieked. “I got it fair and square and you cheated and cut my face! I wish you’d just DIE! Bestealcian make her die!”

Bestealcian rubbed at her neck. “I don’t really wanna do that, though~” Titi and Rebis momentarily forgot one another and the situation to stare at the coatl incredulously. “What? I don’t want to get in trouble with my teacher.”

Rebis almost laughed. Even enamored to a being of unknown power, Bestealcian was still insufferable.

“Fine, fine!” Titi yielded.  “But you have to pay her back! Three times!”

Bestealcian hummed thoughtfully, and drew her sickle from under her wing. “Sorry, my lady, but fair is fair, right?”

Her apology didn’t match the look in her eye, and Rebis scarcely had time to stumble back and let her spell defend her. The envisioning of Telos was as strong as Rebis believed her to be–the real one would never have kept up with the Umbra Wolf half so well. But making an even match to her was double edged. The more serious Bestealcian became, the more bloodthirsty the look in her eye grew.

The imperfect spell was also rapidly depleting Rebis’ light magic, shifting the balance in her body firmly to the Arcane. Pain troubled her focus. The envisioning parried and sliced, but it no longer resembled Telos.

A tug in her chest dropped her back into the dirt with a strangled groan. The apparition still stood, but there was no magic left to give it weight. It was only a vaguely bipedal blob with a sharp but immaterial protrusion. Bestealcian strode right through it, and twirled her sickle over Rebis’ head. Her crest fluttered high, and her eyes shone with excited menace.

“That’s a really neat trick,” she repeated in a sincere and congratulatory tone. “You’re gonna be a great Archmage someday. Now hold still~”

Rebis squirmed back, and frantically blurted the very first spell Prophecy had ever taught her. “Blenden!”

Bestealcian was quick to cover her eyes, but Titi’s distant snarl suggested the flash of dazzling light had caught her unaware.

“That’s MY TRICK!!!”

Rebis clenched her eyes shut and prayed. Losing time didn’t feel like anything; it never did, so she couldn’t help a weak scream when someone yanked her off the ground.

“Rebis!”

Her eyes flew open. A familiar shade of fuschia peered down at her from under brows ridged with worry. “Arcanus…? Arcanus!” She threw herself into him gratefully and without regard for the hard, uncomfortable angles of his armor. It felt like it had been weeks since she last saw someone she trusted.

He laid a hesitant, but comforting hand on her back, and carefully knelt in front of her. “What are you doing out here? Where is your crown?”

Her head swam. Even if he held onto her, she could still lapse, and she didn’t trust herself to talk without crying. She forced her eyes to stay open and traced a message weakly into his hand in her own magic. She hadn’t gone beyond the timepoint of the first lapse. Hopefully, if he was there, something would change.

She curled the message safely into his palm, and tried in vain to blink back tears. It had been only a romantic fairytale that he would rescue her from some imaginary danger the night before. It was significantly less romantic now, but in spite of her fears, she trusted him. He would be there no matter what, and the relief of that alone was enough for her to keep her bravest face on.

She dropped her head to wipe her eyes and when they opened again, he was no longer with her.

The high noon sun glared down from the clear sky, and the flowers of the courtyard happily opened to the light. Pain pricked at Rebis’ wrists where the common celestine had sprouted new, jutting formations. Her chest ached. Her breaths were ragged, but  without the agony she remembered from her first visit to that time.

A clang brought her into the moment. 

Bestealcian’s fan sang and Rubranova’s sword hummed. Pistis sat on the balustrades with Phi, and Titi-tet bounced in both their laps, her wound forgotten as she watched with all the excitement of a veteran coliseum gambler.

“It seems we have a guest,” said Pistis, her antennae twitching in Rebis’ direction.

“That’s the girl who cut my face!” Titi leapt down and vanished into the sunlight, reappearing only as she bashed the full weight of her body into Rebis’s stomach. A rewarding dry heave answered, and she smiled triumphantly over the figure of the fae writhing on the ground.

“That’s what you get!” she hissed. “You think you’re better than me just cause you can make your own friends?!” She kicked viciously but clumsily at Rebis’ body, each motion a bad-tempered thrash. “Well I’ve got my own friends! Lots of them! And they can beat yours easy!”

Rebis squinted up between her protectively thrown up arms. Rubranova had the benefit of armor and size, but the Umbra Wolf had speed, experience, and the use of her wings. The blacksand fan was both a keen blade and a strong deflector, while Rubranova had only a single, massive sword. Her heavy swings pushed Bestealcian back, but she was growing distracted. She kept glancing over at Rebis.

Rebis croaked, but no sound came out. Bestealcian was not the kind of opponent anyone could afford to look away from.

The sickle sailed by Rubranova’s head. Rebis watched the attached rope snap taut, watched Rubranova flinch, but not enough to avoid the gouge. A torrent of blood spilled from her neck, slicking her armor and soaking into the clothes beneath.

The scent of blood saturated the air. Bestealcian tucked the sickle back under her wings, and took a deep, gratifying breath.

“You could have just been Titi’s friend, you know~”

Rubranova’s mouth twitched. The wound wept even as she clutched her hair to it, and stubbornly supported herself on her sword.  She spat blood in Titi’s direction.

 "A Tahalil’s oath…“ she gritted between her stained teeth. "Survives all…!”

“Bet it can’t survive Bestealcian taking your head off,” Titi teased. She spared a smug smile for the coatl. “You’ll do that, right? She attacked you first.”

“She did, didn’t she~” She swung her fan almost playfully, but the distinct motion of a swinging guillotine couldn’t have been missed. “I’m sure the Tahalil’s will hold a hefty grudge… But I’ve always wanted to see what Haematica can really do in a fight~”

A pink bolt as sharp an an arrow exploded against the fan. The sparks had not yet settled when a dozen more followed and riddled the weapon with holes.

Bestealcian’s tongue flicked irritably. “Dammit, that’s the second one…”

Arcanus descended. The edge of his sword shone neon pink, imbued with his magic and focused to an edge keen enough to cut the tail from a comet. Bestealcian wasn’t equipped to handle a magic knight of an element that rose over her own, and without the fan she had no defense and no way to match the range of his sword. And the look in his eye was serious. She could outrun him, sure, but he knew how she fought. He would kill her by any means necessary if she showed even the slightest intention of fighting back.

“I give, I give!” she barked, dancing backward away from him with a supplicating flutter of her feathers. She sat on her haunches, waggling her paws. “See?”

He scowled, and barked back a single syllable that crushed her into the brick. Phi leaped into the fray with his own black and gold swords at the ready but the magic of the Hewn City was still only light magic. And even if he was a Parhelion, Phi was still only a fledgling. Arcanus cut his swords out of existence with a single precise swing. He took Phi by the neck, and carelessly shoved him into the gravity field to join Bestealcian on the ground.

That left just him and the astral.

Titi-tet drew back. She took the crown from her head, and held it out like a ward. “Don’t come any closer, Arcanite! This can kill you!”

Arcanus scowled and shot another bolt. It struck the hatchling’s paw with a sizzle. The scent of burnt fur stung their noses, and Titi vanished into the light with a wail.

Rebis jerked to catch the falling crown, and this time it landed safely in her hands. A sucking numbness crept into her fingers, but she clutched it to her chest, welcoming the unpleasant sensation of the Arcane buildup being siphoned away.

Arcanus peered suspiciously around for the astral, and even cast a searching glance at the arcade where Pistis had been. But the skydancer and astral were both gone. He carefully lifted Rebis into one arm. “Are you unharmed?”

“Not entirely,” she answered with a feeble smile. She let her head fall against his shoulder. “But I’m alive.”

“My apologies for not helping you sooner.” He turned to Rubranova without lowering his sword. “Is she…?”

“No,” Rebis sniffled. “Titi couldn’t enthrall her. Please, we can’t leave her here.”

“Thought I was enthralled…?” Rubranova gave a wheezy, garbled laugh. “Well, that…puts the morning in context. You scared me half…to death.”

"Easy,” Arcanus murmured, and ripped his mantle from his neck. “Here. That should do better than your hair.”

“Much obliged…” She dropped her sword, and pointed a wobbly hand at Bestealcian and Phi. “They going anywhere?”

“Not until we’re a long way away from here.”

“Good, good.” She spat another spritz of blood and flicked them both a rude gesture. “I’m gonna beat… both your asses…all up and down Noon Point when you’re back in your right minds…”

“Come on,” Arcanus urged, kneeling down and flicking his fingers for her to climb on. “You shouldn’t move.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she sighed haggardly, draping herself over his back. “If I gave…a piss about romance…this’d be sweet.”

Rebis laughed and tiredly chastised her with a single whispered: “Quiet.”

Rebis’ hand instinctively flew to her head. 

The crown was still there. Her breaths were short and laborious, but it wasn’t from her illness. A weight crushed down on her back, pinning her to the dirt. It was far colder than it should have been. Vast blue-white pillars reached toward the clouds in the distance. 

The Starfall Isles?

She struggled against the heavy weight pressing her into the ground, and managed to tug her torso free only to feel her waist immediately go cold and wet. Dread crept up her spine and flattened her frills against her head. She swallowed over a suddenly dry tongue and twisted her body around. 

Blood saturated her nightgown and caked her legs beneath it. Rubranova slumped over off to the side, so pale she was nearly blue. Rebis couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. The mass pinning her legs…

A sprawl of familiar black hair and a broken horn was all she managed to take in before her chest began to heave with rapid, sobbing breaths.

She pressed her face into the dirt and screamed. 

[purrincess-chat]

Lady du Coeur (Rewritten) CH1

SURPRISE! Guess who’s back? It’s this dinosaur back from the war! New and improved! Okay, so this chapter is roughly the same, but next chapter will be different. By chapter 4 I think it will go in a completely new direction for some characters, so if you loved the original version then I hope you will love this one even more! Speaking of the original, I will be taking it down this coming Sunday night, so if you love it then feel free to read through it one last time before it disappears. I will not be updating that version again, only this new one, so it’s serving no purpose to me anymore, and I’d much rather people read this version.

This fic begins right where s1 ends and does its own thing. It isn’t 100% canon compliant though I have picked out some aspects of canon that I liked, but when I originally wrote it, s2 wasn’t out yet, so I just did my own thing and kind of want to continue doing that thing, so sorry if that bothers you. XD

Rating: T

Summary:  Instructed by the old master, Marinette seeks to befriend golden boy, Adrien Agreste, to protect him from evil. As a result, Adrien finds himself drawn to the shy girl from his class to counteract the misfortune that seems to follow him.

Read on AO3

Chapter One: New Beginnings

Marinette could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Master Fu with cautious eyes. How long had the old man known her secret? How did he know her secret? Her mind was racing with questions as Master Fu turned the book over in his hands, a thoughtful expression on his face. After a moment, he looked up at her and smiled warmly as if they were old friends. She braced herself for whatever slew of questions he could have for her, but to her surprise they didn't come.

"Would you like some tea?" He asked calmly, and Marinette shifted uncomfortably.

Of all the questions he could have asked like 'Where did you get this?' or 'How long have you had it?' and he wanted to know if she'd like some tea. He must have sensed her unease because he turned to the small green kwami floating beside him and said, "Bring out some chamomile, Wayzz. It might help calm our guest's nerves." The turtle flitted off into the backroom, and Master Fu motioned for Marinette to sit.

She exchanged a look with Tikki who nodded encouragingly then sat cross-legged on the mat. Master Fu moved a small tea table in front of her and set out four tea cups, two regular-sized and two kwami-sized. The old man seemed so calm, but Marinette found it hard to relax. After all, she had only met him once before. Had he known who she was then? How could he be so unconcerned knowing who she was? Most people would freak out.

"Don't you want to ask me about the book?" Marinette found herself blurting. She clamped her mouth shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, but to her surprised, Master Fu chuckled.

"We have many things to discuss, Marinette, but first, let us enjoy our tea," As if on cue, Wayzz appeared toting a small tea pot, and Master Fu took it and poured tea into each of the cups.

His calm demeanor only made Marinette's nerves worse. He was impossible to read, his eyes gave away no clear emotion. It was as if he wore a mask to cover up how he was truly feeling, something Marinette wasn't used to dealing with. Her friends were usually pretty transparent, she could always tell when they were upset, but Master Fu was older, wiser, and capable of controlling his emotions, a skill acquired over many years of experience.

The four sipped their tea for several minutes, the lack of conversation eating away at Marinette's patience. Something in her gut told her to trust Fu, but every thought in her brain told her to be cautious. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she knew nothing about this old man and had only come because of her faith in Tikki's judgment. She glanced down at her kwami who seemed right at home next to Wayzz, telling herself that she could trust Master Fu if Tikki could. After all, he had healed her when she was sick before, but Marinette couldn't help feeling exposed. The old man's eyes seemed to see straight through her as if he knew every one of her secrets. He knew her identity, and she worried for once that maybe others would figure it out too.

Living a double-life grew tiring after a while, but Marinette had always worked diligently to ensure that no one found out who she really was, including her best friend and number-one fan. And yet, here sat a man who knew her identity after only meeting her once. Had she been lucky all along that her classmates were seemingly unaware of her alter-ego? What, she wondered, gave her secret away to this stranger? What detail was she overlooking?

"Um," She started clasping her hands together in her lap. "How did you know it was me?" She felt herself shrink under his gaze, wise old eyes looking into her soul, but Master Fu smiled that same warm, familiar smile as if he'd been waiting to see her for some time.

"I know many things," He said simply before taking a long sip of his tea. "I know you have often wondered how that magic box appeared in your room on that fateful day.”

“Well, I have wondered why it was me who got a Miraculous. I mean, there are tons of people in Paris who could have been Ladybug, like my friend Alya, but it’s me,” She said, tapping her fingers together and shrugging.

"That may be true; however, many people lack your compassion, your wit, and your selflessness. You have certainly never let your lack of knowing prevent you from doing what is right, and that, Marinette, is why I left Tikki and the Ladybug Miraculous in your hands," He took another calm sip of his tea.

"You picked me to be Ladybug?" She gasped, eyes wide with disbelief.

All this time she never knew how those mysterious earrings had ended up in her room. It had been Master Fu all along? Though her mind was racing with thousands of questions, she felt more at ease knowing Master Fu hadn't simply guessed who she was but had known from the beginning. It made her feel safer, and it explained why the old man gave her such warm smiles. Proud smiles, she realized. Master Fu looked at her with the doting warmth of a parent watching their child grow and learn, and in that instance, Marinette's nerves seemed to melt away.

"I set out one day in search of fateful encounters. I needed compassionate hearts to wield the black cat and ladybug Miraculouses because they possess great power, and in the wrong hands, they pose an unstoppable threat." His voice grew more solemn, but after a moment he smiled. "Fate chose you and Chat Noir to fight evil, and you two have shown great courage in your efforts thus far."

At that Marinette smiled a little. The reassurance was comforting. She'd always felt like she and Chat Noir had been thrust into their positions so abruptly, hardly given anytime to wonder if they were right for it or not. They pressed on out of a sense of duty, a responsibility that only they possessed, but now she understood why they were chosen, the once jumbled gears in her brain now fitting together perfectly.

"Thank you," She smiled, hoping to convey the same warmth Master Fu had shown her, the same gratitude.

"It is I who should thank you for rising to the occasion. It takes great courage to fight the forces of evil," He bowed slightly in a show of respect. "Now, we must discuss the reason for your visit." Master Fu picked up the book and set it on the table. Marinette watched as he flipped through it, stroking his beard thoughtfully with his thumb and index finger.

She'd looked through it herself, but none of it made sense to her other than the pictures. Tikki said Master Fu knew how to decode it which made her wonder about the old man. He seemed so kind, and he looked at her with such familiarity it made Marinette wonder how many other Ladybug's he'd encountered in his life. What things had he seen?

She trained her eyes on his bracelet, his Miraculous. How long had he and Wayzz been together? She wondered. How long would she have with Tikki? Marinette couldn't picture her life without her kwami anymore. Ladybug had become a part of her, and Tikki had become a dear friend. Would the two remain together until she aged like Fu and Wayzz? She glanced once more at the small green kwami still sipping at his tea. As Master Fu continued to thumb through the book, Marinette's mind raced with questions until finally his voice broke her train of thought.

"I lost this book many years ago," He commented. "Where did you find it?" His eyes moved up to look at her. He'd stopped on the fox hero's page that had inspired Lila to become Volpina.

"I…" She bit her lip wondering how much to reveal. She felt a surge of importance from Master Fu and knew better than to lie to him. "There's this…boy in my class, and he…kind of had it in the library; then this new girl took it from him, and later in the park she dumped it into the trash where Tikki and I pulled it out. Tikki said it was important and told me to bring it here." She finished leaving out the minor detail where she caused the girl to be akumatized out of jealousy. Vaguely, she felt aware that Master Fu probably knew more about her than he let on.

"This boy…what is his name?" He eyed her knowingly.

"His name is Adrien. Adrien Agreste," She blushed slightly thinking about him. Master Fu frowned and resumed stroking his beard as if he were recalling an old memory, but after a moment he smiled again, nodding his head as if he'd come to a conclusion.

"This book contains a history of all Miraculous jewels and their powers. I am afraid you won't be able to return it to your friend," He stated, and Marinette shook her head.

"I kind of knew that," She sighed. It wasn't like Adrien knew she'd taken it, but she knew he would look for it. That he would wonder what happened to it.

"I am sorry, but in the wrong hands this book is very dangerous. It contains many secrets, spells, and prophecies that shouldn't be discovered. You were wise to heed your kwami's advice and bring it here," His tone was apologetic but firm. Marinette had hoped to use it to start up a conversation with Adrien, but she knew she would never be able to mention it to him. She looked down at the book, the cover worn from many years of use.

"So, are there really more Miraculouses besides ours?" She asked glancing at Wayzz. Master Fu smiled, amused by her curiosity.

"There are many Miraculouses, yes; however, not all of them have awoken. Some are lost, but I have kept watch over them for many years," He stood and approached the phonograph at the back of the room. Marinette watched as he pressed a series of buttons, eyes widening as the record player opened to reveal an intricately designed box. She didn't recognize any of the Chinese characters, much to her chagrin.

"I am a member of the Order of the Guardians, well, that is to say, I am the last member, and as such it is my duty to protect the Miraculous and their secrets from falling into the wrong hands," He motioned for her to come closer, so she stood and approached sheepishly.

Inside the box was a series of carefully crafted platforms that all fit together to form the shape of a flower. In the middle was a raised tier with the yin and yang symbol covering the circle, the dots bearing the symbols of Chat Noir's ring and her earrings. The lower tiers, or rather the petals, all bore the colors and marks of the Miraculous they represented. She noticed that only two were left, and, after doing quick math in her mind, she looked up at Master Fu, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"What happened to this one?" She pointed at the blue petal on the bottom that bore the symbol of a peacock tail, and Master Fu's face fell.

"Some are lost," He repeated gravely before shutting the box gently. "The others remain dormant for now. The time has not yet come for them to awaken, so they remain asleep."

“So, is Hawkmoth’s Miraculous lost too then? There’s no way that you would give it to someone like that, right?” She touched her chin with a worried frown, and his somber expression returned.

“I have not been in possession of the Moth Miraculous for some time now. Many moons ago, the temple of the Order of the Guardians was destroyed as a result of my carelessness, and the Moth Miraculous was lost,” He explained, the once calm mask faded, and in that moment, he seemed older, more tired. “It is why regaining this book is so important because it keeps it out of Hawkmoth’s hands. We must use it to our advantage if we wish to beat him someday.”

“I’ll do my very best, Master!” She vowed, and his warm smile returned.

"That classmate of yours…You should get closer to him." He gave her another knowing smile, and Marinette felt the heat of her blush creep up her neck.

"Get close? To A-Adrien? I-I don't think I can, I mean, he's, I, uh," She was stammering again as she often did when it came to her crush.

"If Hawkmoth discovers that the boy had this book, he could be in danger. It would be in his best interest if you were in his good company." Master Fu warned, and Marinette sobered at the thought. She hadn't considered what repercussions Adrien could face for having such a powerful book. Hawkmoth would stop at nothing if he thought he could get information out of him.

"I'll do my best," She promised. Master Fu placed a hand on her shoulder with one of those proud-parent smiles.

"Good girl," He guided her to the door. "Come back often when you are feeling lost. The burden of a Miraculous is a great one, and it helps to seek solace from someone who knows of the struggles you are facing."

She smiled, pulling the small man into an appreciative hug.

"I will. Thank you for everything, Master Fu," She pulled back and waved slightly before stepping through the door she'd entered in, a new sense of purpose swelling inside her. She had a boy to protect.

***

"Master, if the Agreste child had the book-" Wayzz started, but Master Fu held up a hand to silence him. He was well aware of what it meant. His mind drifted back to the days when he and Wayzz transformed together regularly, doing their part to protect the city alongside a woman with more grace and flair than any other. His partner and wielder of the peacock Miraculous. Or rather, his former partner.

"I should have known she would take it. She always was curious," He sounded amused almost, but then his eyes narrowed sadly. "Let us pay Gabriel a visit. It has been some time since we last spoke." His kwami looked anxious at the suggestion

"He threw you out last time," The small turtle pointed out, his forehead furrowed worriedly.

True. The last time Fu had visited the Agreste mansion had been right after the Madame of the household disappeared. Gabriel had not taken his presence well. Deep down, Fu knew the reason Gabriel resented him, but the problem lied in whether or not Fu felt those reasons were justified. His answer depended on the day.

"Gabriel's emotions were still very raw at the time. He blamed me for her disappearance," He grabbed his cane and flipped the sign on the window to the 'closed' side. "Sometimes I think he's right."

"Are you sure this is wise then, Master?" Wayzz scurried after him as the old man locked up, and Fu seemed amused.

"We will find out soon," The mischievous gleam Wayzz knew too well entered the old man's eyes; he sighed, knowing any further argument was futile, and retreated down into his master's pocket.

When he arrived at the Agreste mansion he observed how closed off Gabriel had made the house since the disappearance of his wife. Tall walls and an iron gate - a cage meant to keep a young boy from being swallowed by the world. He rang the bell and a small camera lens appeared, zooming around his face briefly before the gates slid open, and Fu made his way up the stairs where Gabriel was waiting, face seemingly devoid of emotion, but Fu detected a hint of malice in his piercing blue-grey eyes.

"It's been some time since I've seen your face, Fu," Gabriel said flatly. "What brings you here?"

His voice sounded uninterested, guarded almost, but Fu could sense the emotions churning inside him.

"I think we have a few things to discuss, Gabriel," He said patiently. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, but after a moment he motioned for Fu to enter. They made their way to Gabriel's study on the left side of the main hall, and Fu noticed how empty the house seemed now, how cold.

"Nathalie, I have some business to attend to," Gabriel said as they entered the room. His assistant nodded curtly and left the room, closing the doors behind her as she went. Fu remained at ease as he took a seat and watched Gabriel patiently as he took the one across from him.

"What do you want?" Fu detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. Gabriel had indeed changed since his wife vanished. He'd aged more, his once youthful skin now stretched tightly across his cheekbones, dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"You look tired," He remarked. Outside the sun was setting, casting an orange glow on the room, but even in the dimming light Fu could see Gabriel's lip twitch.

"I am a very busy man, and I don't have much time for small talk, Fu, so I would appreciate if you got to the reason for your visit. I highly doubt you've come just to chitchat about my health." Though his voice was sharp enough to cut through steel, Fu couldn't help but grin. Gabriel had always been reserved, but Fu knew it was all a façade.

"Your son came in possession of a book of mine," He stated simply. "Any idea where he got it from?"

"So it would seem," Gabriel sighed. "It appears as though I need to be more careful with my safe codes, the boy has become quite good at sneaking around lately, much like someone we know." He glanced up at the portrait of his wife and continued, "He stole the book from me. I guess he's more like his mother than I realized, that natural curiosity as it were…" His voice trailed off as he readjusted his gaze onto Master Fu. "I didn't realize it belonged to you, Fu."

"It's quite alright. I hadn't realized she'd taken it from me, and, of course, she wouldn't have told you where it came from either. She liked to hide those details," At that the corners of Gabriel's mouth curled into a slight smile, a smirk really.

"My wife kept many things from both of us. Though I feel she shared more secrets with you than she ever did with me," Fu could sense the jealousy behind his words, but he also detected a hint of sadness.

"I was her partner. There are many secrets we kept from each other and the ones we loved for their safety-"

"And what about her safety?" Gabriel growled. "If she trusted me with her secrets-"

"Adrien would be alone now," Fu's words cut through Gabriel, his usual calm, disinterested demeanor shaken, but Fu continued, "Whatever she got into that led to her disappearance would have sucked you in too, which is why she kept it from both of us. Your son would have no parents now if she had told you."

"If she had told me, I could have saved her!" Gabriel jumped up, hands clenched into fists, and Fu gave him that all-knowing stare.

"Could you?" Fu stood up abruptly. "Don't scold the boy for taking the book. It's in safe hands now. I thank you for protecting it all this time." He made his way to the door with even steps.

"I still haven’t forgiven you," Gabriel's words stopped him in his tracks. “You were supposed to look out for her.”

“I know,” Fu said, casting Gabriel a pained look over his shoulder.

“I never want my son near any of this ever again either. I can’t lose both of them, so don’t you ever set foot in this house again, do you understand me?” He said harshly, and Fu lowered his gaze to his feet before nodding.

"Your son has a good heart," He said after a moment. "Don't break it."

With that Fu pulled the door open and took his leave, Gabriel's words replaying in his mind, but the old man had faith in that unfortunate black cat. The boy would choose his own fate in the end.

***

Gabriel watched the old man go, closing his fists tighter, seething, because he knew Fu was right about more things than he cared to admit. It was true after his wife disappeared that he had become more protective of their son, but only because the fear of losing him too kept him up at night. He didn't quite understand it all, how the Miraculouses worked, and why fate had plagued his household with such a wretched burden, but he wanted to do everything in his power to keep such things away from Adrien. Because Adrien was all he had left.

He paced toward the wall of photographs, the static images of the most precious thing in his world. With deliberate hands, he pulled the painting away from the wall to reveal his safe. He typed in the code – Adrien's birth date, which, he realized, might be too obvious – and pulled away the heavy door. He touched the peacock pendant gingerly. It seemed dimmer now than when his wife had worn it. Back then it had seemed so full of light and color. Now it seemed as if the jewel were sleeping, the guardian inside awaiting the return of its master. He shut the safe abruptly, straightening himself.

Adrien was moping in his room when Gabriel entered and seemed annoyed at the intrusion.

"Knock much?" He grunted.

"If you would like me to respect your privacy then I expect you to respect mine," His voice was cold, harsh. Adrien flinched and looked away guiltily, and Gabriel sighed and sat on the edge of the boy's bed.

"Did you find it interesting?" He asked. Adrien snapped back around looking startled.

"W-What?" He stuttered.

"The book," Gabriel continued. "Your mother used to look through it. She was so fascinated by superheroes." Adrien looked as if he'd been slapped, so Gabriel waited.

"I, uh, I-I'm sorry I took it, Father," He looked down at his lap. "And that I lost it…" He said the last part more quietly. He jumped like he'd been electrocuted when Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It was just a bunch of nonsense. Your mother liked to fantasize about silly things, and it seems you take after her in that regard." He glanced at the monitors where his son had a website devoted to Ladybug pulled up. His eyes narrowed slightly, but after a moment, he ruffled the boy's hair and stood up. "Don't take things without asking anymore."

"Yes, Father. I promise," His head hung low. Gabriel left the room and quietly made his way down the hall, a small purple sprite flitting up from his jacket timidly.

“If you want to protect your son, why do you send out akumas every day?” Nooroo asked, flinching a little when Gabriel shot him a glare.

“I do what I have to in order to get Chat Noir and Ladybug’s Miraculouses. With them, I can finally put an end to the misfortune plaguing this household,” He stated simply, and Nooroo shrank under his gaze. “Which is why you will continue to do as I ask.”

“Yes, Master.”

***

Marinette had a fitful night, constantly in and out of sleep, her nerves racing. She knew the importance behind becoming better friends with Adrien, but the thought of approaching him made her cheeks burn and her heart race. What if she said something stupid? Or came on too strong? Or if he found out she had a huge dork crush on him? She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow with a groan.

Cats stuck in trees, she was on it. Evil akumas, no problem! Talking to that gorgeous blond boy in her class…Marinette.exe has stopped working. How could she befriend him if she couldn’t even get out two coherent sentences around him?

           When morning light began to creep in through her window, Marinette felt the weight of sleep deprivation on her eyelids like cement. She closed them for a brief moment before a sharp pain centered on her hand. Shooting forward with a yelp, she found that it was much brighter in the room than it had been a few minutes ago.

           “It’s about time you woke up! You’re going to be late for school!” Tikki’s soprano voice scolded. Marinette examined her hand, tiny teeth marks embedded into the skin.

           “Did you bite me?” She asked in disbelief. The small kwami gave her a haughty look.

           “Honestly, Marinette, you need to learn how to wake up on time,” The red bug shook her head in disappointment as her owner scrambled to get ready.

           “I know, I know, it’s just…I had trouble sleeping last night,” Marinette said defensively. “Because I have to talk to you-know-who today,” She paused to stare dreamily at her Adrien wall. In that moment, she realized she should probably take it all down if they were going to be better friends, recalling the time he came over to practice for the Mecha Strike tournament. Her wall wasn’t something she felt confident explaining to him.

           “Not to mention, Lila’s going to be at school, and I have no idea how that whole mess is going to play out,” Marinette continued as she brushed her hair back into her signature pigtails.

           “Just remember, don’t bring up the book under any circumstances,” Tikki whispered as they entered the school. Somehow the atmosphere inside the school walls seemed…different. As she walked further inside, the hum of hushed chatter filled the air, and Marinette picked out bits and pieces as she walked.

           “Did you hear-?”

           “How pathetic,”

           “I knew she was lying,”

           “Shh! Here she comes!”

           A hush fell over the courtyard as the brown haired girl entered through the front doors. All eyes fixed on her as she hung her head low, gripping her bag closer to herself as she took the walk of shame across the courtyard.

           “Liar,” The word bounced around from mouth to mouth with no clear indication of where it started, but it followed her as she walked, shoulders slumping more and more as she passed through mocking stares and thoughtless whispers. Despite the previous day’s events Marinette found herself feeling sorry for her.

           She did this to herself. Marinette told herself, pushing away guilty thoughts. Lila was finally getting what she deserved, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t swallow that feeling. It was kind of her fault Lila got akumatized after all. If she hadn’t gotten so jealous… No, if she hadn’t stepped in Lila would still be plaguing the school with her lies. That much she could accept. Additionally, she could have Adrien under her spell too, which was absolutely out of the question.

           “Can you believe that girl?” Marinette jumped at the sound of her best friend’s voice in her ear. “That whole interview was totally fake! Ugh, and I put it on the Ladyblog too!” Alya knocked her forehead with her fist a few times as if to beat the poor decision out of her memory.

           “Well, she can’t say she doesn’t know Ladybug now,” The laugh belonged to Nino, and Marinette noticed Adrien standing beside him looking lost in thought. He seemed fine when she’d been by to check on him the day before, but she still wondered how he was faring. Alya jumped at the opportunity as soon as she laid eyes on him.

           “Soo, Adrien, is it true Volpina showed up at your house?” The question seemed to rattle him. Alya could be so shameless at times.

           “Uhh…y-yeah, she did…” Marinette grabbed Alya’s arm and dragged her away before she could bombard him with more questions.

           “Hey!” She huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

           “I think it’s probably best if you avoid the subject for now. He seems pretty upset,” Marinette said pointedly which got an eye roll and an exasperated ‘I guess’ from Alya.

           Inside the classroom was no better. Everyone huddled together whispering about Lila, and Marinette’s stomach churned uneasily. People were going to find out eventually…right? This day was proving to be worse than she’d thought. How could she focus on Adrien when everyone was focused on Lila? She glanced up at him sitting in front of her. He was being unusually quiet today. She glanced at Nino who was busy talking to Alya and drew in a breath.

           She needed to say something, anything, but no matter how much she tried the breath stayed in her lungs. What should she say? It seemed a little late for good morning since she had already passed him once. Shoot! She missed the opportunity because of Alya. As the edges of her vision started to darken she realized she’d forgotten to breathe out, and she willed herself to speak.

           “Um,” She started, heart accelerating a bit as her friends turned their attention to her.

           “Alright, everyone, take your seats,” Mlle. Bustier interrupted, much to Marinette’s relief as she released the rest of the air from her lungs. Why was speaking so hard around him?

           Her mind wandered during the lesson, thinking about yesterday, Volpina, Lila, Adrien, Master Fu…More than usual Marinette wished she were normal. Maybe she would visit Master Fu later. Somehow she trusted him more than she originally thought she would. Maybe it was the idea of having someone other than Tikki to share her secrets with, a confidant of sorts, or perhaps it was the old man’s serene demeanor that made her feel safe.

           When the bell rang for lunch, she took several deep breaths and followed Adrien down the stairs. Now’s your chance, Marinette. Don’t chicken out! You can do this. She balled her hands into nervous fists and opened her mouth to call his name.

           “Adrikins!” Marinette found herself shoved out of the way as Chloe assaulted Adrien with hugs and kisses despite how he resisted.

           “Hey, Chlo,” He grunted, dodging her lips from connecting with his.

           “Yesterday must have been so awful for you. That nasty Lila girl pretending to be a superhero, how terrible!” Chloe clung to him possessively.

           “Y-Yeah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fixed on the ground. Marinette walked passed them cursing Chloe in her mind. As she made her way down the front steps, she noticed Lila entering the park across the street.

           Don’t you dare! Her brain screamed as her feet moved after Lila. You don’t owe her anything. She did it to herself. She lied to everyone and threatened Adrien. Stop. Go home. Don’t-

           “Hi,” She said gently, and Lila looked up from where she was slumped on a bench holding a sandwich. “It’s no fun eating alone. Mind if I join you?” Lila gave her an incredulous look.

That’s it, Marinette. She doesn’t want you here, just turn around and leave.

           “Are you stupid or something?” She blurted, cocking a brow. “Everyone hates me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Marinette had noticed and for the life of her couldn’t figure out why she was still standing there. Master Fu knew what he was talking about when he said she had a compassionate heart. Even though Lila had almost stolen Adrien from her and lied to everyone in school, all things Marinette loathed, something in her gut wouldn’t let her hate Lila.

           “Not everyone…” She smiled encouragingly, and Lila rolled her eyes.

           “Fine, whatever,” She scooched over slightly as Marinette sat beside her and pulled out her lunch.

           “I’m Marinette, by the way.”

           “Yeah, I got that,” Her tone was short, guarded. Marinette winced as every cell in her body screamed at her to walk away, but she remained rooted in place on that bench.

           “So, you’re from Italy?” She asked conversationally.

           “Yeah.” Lila shifted so her back was to Marinette as if she were using her body to create a wall between them. Marinette couldn’t really blame her for being distant after everyone shunned her.

           “Awesome! My grandma is Italian actually,” Marinette laughed nervously. Lila wasn’t making this very easy.

           “Look, you don’t have to pretend to be nice to me. I lied to everyone, and now everyone hates me, so if you don’t mind I’d like to finish my lunch alone,” Lila sighed.

Now’s your chance, just get up and walk home.

           “Why did you do it?” She found herself asking against her better judgment. She braced herself for an outburst, some form of backlash, but it never came. Instead Lila simply shrugged.

           “I didn’t have many friends back home, so I guess…I just wanted everyone to like me here,” She said, eyes narrowing. “Why does that matter to you?”

Being in a new place could be daunting. She thought of Adrien’s first day and all the trouble Chloe caused him. If he were snobby like Chloe she might have felt differently about him, but he was sweet and kind. The truth of the matter was Marinette knew nothing about Lila, so she was determined to find out who she was before passing judgment on her. Sometimes she hated her soft heart.

           “Well, you’re new here, and I kind of want to be your friend…” More like she felt bad for embarrassing her in front of Adrien and getting her akumatized, but that was a secret Marinette would take to her grave. Lila turned to face her abruptly, their faces inches apart as Lila glared through her, and Marinette bit her lip nervously.

           “You really are stupid,” She said after a moment, leaning back, but she cast Marinette a side-long smile and took another bite of her sandwich. “But I guess you’re all I’ve got, so I suppose we can be friends.”

           “Tell me about yourself,” Marinette prompted, but Lila looked away.

           “Why?” She grumbled.

           “Isn’t that what friends do?” Lila shrugged her shoulders, but Marinette continued, “I’ll start then. I want to be a fashion designer.”

           Lila looked her over for a second then laughed, “And you’re wearing that?”

Marinette felt her stomach drop, and it must have shown on her face because after a moment Lila laughed. “I’m kidding, don’t be so gullible. I love your jacket.”

           “Oh…thanks. Now it’s your turn,” She prompted, and Lila thought for a moment.

           “I’ve always wanted to be a supermodel. Ever since I saw my first fashion magazine I’ve wanted to be a model, so I only eat one meal a day,” She said.

           “Wow that seems extreme.” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed, and Lila laughed again.

           “You’re really bad at this. That was totally a lie,” She giggled. “Sometimes I eat way too much. Food is way more important to me than being some paper thin cover girl.”

           “Alright then, what do you want to be?” Marinette asked.

Their conversation went on like that for a while. Lila would make up stories for all of Marinette’s questions then ask her if she thought they were true. They made a game out of it. Most of the time Marinette said they were even if they were obviously lies because it made Lila smile, even for a short period of time, which was something she rarely did otherwise.

           “Let’s have lunch together from now on, okay?” Marinette offered sincerely.

           “Whatever,” Lila said with a grunt. Even if she had lied to everyone, Marinette couldn’t bring herself to be mean to Lila. Ladybug had already done that, and it backfired. She’d learned her lesson the hard way. Besides, everyone else was doing enough.

           The two girls ate lunch together in the park regularly after that, talking about fashion and movies and other trivial things, and the more time they spent together the more Marinette started to like her. She found out that Lila’s parents were always super busy with work and that she was mostly raised by her grandmother until she passed away a couple years ago. They came to Paris because her father got a promotion within the company to come run a branch in Paris. Or so Lila said.

           Eventually, the harsh stares became fewer in number as people moved on, though no one besides Marinette made any effort to talk to Lila. Their friendship irritated Alya to no end.

           “How can you hang out with her?” She asked as she always did during their free period. Alya made a point to tell Marinette how much she disapproved of her friendship with Lila every opportunity she got, and Marinette sighed.

           “Is everyone really going to hold a grudge forever?” She groaned. Alya looked like she was going to say something else, but something caught her eye over Marinette’s shoulder.

           “Marinette’s future husband at 10 o’clock!” She grinned nodding in the direction of the door where Adrien had just entered. Marinette had made small progress with him over the past few weeks. They often said ‘good morning’ to each other now, but after that Marinette clammed up.

           “You should go sit by him,” Alya gave her a shove, but Marinette had become a steel wall.

           “But you’re helping me with chemistry,” She offered half-heartedly, and Alya pulled her to her feet.

           “You’re gonna see a lot more chemistry happening over there, now go get him!” Her best friend shoved her to the other side of the bookshelf, right into Adrien’s view.

           “Oh, hey, Marinette,” He said with a friendly smile.

           “Uhh, m-morning,” She stammered. Wait. No! Adrien looked at her quizzically, and Marinette glanced back at Alya with a panicked expression, her friend face palming and shaking her head. “I-I mean, uh, hi?” She squeaked, lifting her textbook to hide her face.

           “Hi…?” He repeated before nodding at the book in her hands. “You working on chemistry?”

           “Oh! Uh, yeah, Alya was helping me,” She gestured with her thumb behind her.

           “But Alya has to go do an important thing now that she just remembered, so, Adrien, you’re good at chemistry, right? Marinette needs some help with her chemical reactions,” Her friend gave her a stern look to which Marinette offered up a nervous grin. “Mind taking over for me?”  

           “Sure,” Adrien looked between them clearly confused.

           “Great! See you later, M!” She wrapped an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “Thank me later!” She whispered before dashing off. And just like that they were alone. Well, alone with the exception of the other students in the library.

           “So,” He dragged the vowel out, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Want to get started?” He nodded toward the table she and Alya had been sitting at moments before, and Marinette hid her blush behind her book and nodded, taking her seat.

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. She repeated in her head. Slowly, she set the book on the table and flipped to the chapter as Adrien pulled out his notes.

           This was her chance to get on better terms with him. If Master Fu was right about Hawkmoth, Adrien could be in danger, and the last thing Marinette wanted was for him to get hurt because she was too nervous to talk to him. His life depended on her opening up, or that’s what she told herself at least.

           “Um, thanks for this,” She managed. “I-I know you must be busy, and it’s my fault for getting behind. Normally I get Alya to help me, but she has that thing that she has to do…” Oh, no, she was rambling. Suddenly she wished she couldn’t talk again, unsure of how to turn her mouth off.

           “It’s fine,” He chuckled good-naturedly. “You and I don’t get to talk much, so this is nice.”

           “You’re nice,” She sighed dreamily before realizing she’d said that out loud. “I, uh, yeah, it’s nice to hang out, with you, that is, uh.” This was going well. Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose while she silently prayed Adrien didn’t think she was a dorkasaurous.

           “Right,” He titled his head to the side slightly. “So, you need help with chemical reactions?” He asked, and Marinette suppressed an eye roll. Alya.

           “Uh, yeah, just the calculations.” She blushed as he scooted closer to share her book.

           “You just have to get the units to cancel until you get what you want,” He explained, scribbling a problem down on her tablet. “In this one you want to know how many moles of product C you get when you react A and B, so…” He was close enough that his arm brushed hers lightly, sending shockwaves up to her shoulder. Her heart pounded in her chest, rushing blood to her face. Being so close to him was like a dream, one Marinette never wanted to wake up from.

           “So, you think you can work this one?” He asked pointing to the next problem as Marinette snapped back to reality. She hadn’t been listening, so she nodded meekly, taking the stylus from him and scribbling down the steps. “Good,” He smiled when she got the right answer. “You learn fast.”

           “You’re a better tutor than Alya,” She admitted, rubbing the back of her neck as if to stop the blood rushing to her cheeks, and Adrien laughed.

           “I won’t tell her you said that,” He winked, and Marinette was sure her heart stopped. “I can help you any time if you lend me your notes when I miss class.” True, Adrien did often miss class like she did. Must be his strict schedule.

           “Y-Yeah, no problem!” A silence fell between them for a moment as Marinette stared at her textbook. She was aware of his eyes on her, but a lump formed in her throat that she couldn’t swallow down. Still, she had to give herself props for getting this far with him. There were only a few other times where she’d actually spoken one-on-one with him without being a complete wreck. Perhaps it would get easier if she spoke to him more often, or that’s what she hoped for anyways.

           “Can I ask you something?” He said finally. Marinette’s stomach twisted in knots as she dared to look up into his emerald green eyes, eyes she’d spent hours daydreaming about.

           “S-Sure,” She gulped, an endless stream of possible outcomes flowing through her mind until they formed rapids, and Marinette felt herself getting dizzy. Those curious green eyes never strayed from her, and she could have sworn she was going to pass out.

           “Did I do something wrong?” Marinette felt her brain failing. That was not a question she’d considered.

           “W-What?” She gaped at him.

           “I mean, at first I thought maybe you were just shy, but seeing you with Lila lately…Did I do something to make you not like me? You never seem to want to talk to me unless you have to,” He slumped a little. Oh no. Adrien thought she hated him.

           “I-No! I don’t…No!” She scrambled. She pictured tiny versions of herself running around in her brain as it overheated. “It’s just that I- and you’re so- and I’m not,”

At least he hadn’t figured out she had a crush on him. She couldn’t say which scenario she would prefer in that moment, but at least in this case her usual flustered ramblings could be useful.

           “Did I say something to upset you?” His eyebrows knitted together worriedly.

           “No!” She practically shouted.

           “Then why? We hang out in the same friend group, but you always run away when I look at you.”

           “Well…you’re…Adrien Agreste. Your dad’s my favorite designer, you’re a model, and I’m just…I-I’m just a baker’s daughter,” She traced circles on her book with her finger.

           “So, you think because I’m rich that I’m too shallow to want to be friends with you?” He looked offended.

           “No, no, no!” She waved her hands frantically. “Th-That’s not what I meant at all! You’re really nice!”

Adrien leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, frowning, and Marinette deflated.

           “You wanna start over?” She looked back up into his earnest green eyes, his hand extended toward her. “I’m Adrien.”

She stared in disbelief for a moment before placing her hand in his.

           “Marinette.” She smiled.

           “Nice to meet you, Marinette, wanna hang out sometime?” He cocked a well-kept brow.

           “I’d like that.” His face softened and formed a smile.

           “Me too.” Marinette felt her cheeks flush, but for once she wasn’t nervous. His green eyes were so sincere, wanting to be accepted by the girl he thought he’d upset the first day of school. The buzz of his phone startled them both. Glancing at it, he sighed.

           “Gotta go. Piano lesson.” Marinette knew that. “See you in class, baker girl.” He winked.

           “You’re not going to let that go, are you?” She groaned covering her face with her hand in shame.

           “You’re the one who thinks I’m too above you,” He crossed his arms.

           “I didn’t mean-” She saw the playful glint in his eyes and seized the new opportunity. “See you later, rich boy.” She shot back. At that he grinned widely and waved as he made his way out. Once the door closed, Marinette melted into her seat.

           “That was a good start!” Tikki whispered excitedly from her shirt collar; however, she soon realized Marinette’s brain had melted to mush, so she escaped back down to her purse with an eye roll. This friendship was going to take some getting used to.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (21/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

Luna is shaking, she’s not going to lie. To think that war – invasion – came so close to Insomnia itself! And at the hands of the Kingsglaive, no less! With daemons, the scourge of Eos, as Niflheim's weapons of choice – she's heard of it before, of course, distantly, but she could barely believe it until she was seeing it - it’s vile, absolutely vile, and it shakes her to her core to know that any ‘taurs, any ‘taurs at all, would choose to use such a weapon.

"Don't be sad, Luna," Prompto says, patting her back comfortingly. "It's over now."

She nods. Over, at least until the trials for the traitorous Kingsglaive, and very likely Drautos' execution.

"Besides, the summoning thing was way cool," Prompto adds, which makes her smile.

"Never lose your sunny way of looking at things, Prompto," she tells him.

He grins at her.

There's a tap on her shoulder – it's Scientia. "I see that you listened to me about not dying," she tells Luna approvingly. "And my little troublemaker came back in one piece this time, too."

"It was one time," Ignis grouses. "And I got pneumonia last time, I didn't break something or anything."

"Lungs are a piece of you," Scientia says firmly.

Luna smiles at her, too.

"Now," Scientia says in her usual brisk manner, "would you like to go home or stay and hear the reports of what happened during the invasion?"

"Stay," Luna and Ignis both chorus.

"We get to?" Ignis adds, looking pleased.

"Well, you're certainly in the thick of it now," Scientia says, looking a touch rueful. "I doubt any of us realized quite how – eventful – these Covenants would be."

They all go to the sitting room, where poor Mr. Amicitia is still being patched up by his wife while Gladio watches worriedly, since Mr. Amicita refused to go to the hospital and take room from someone who probably needed it more, in his words. Luna’s not sure that was a good decision; he looks awful.

At least the King and Queen are all right, and the Kingsglaive they like, too, like the Ulric twins, even if Hemera has a nasty bandage on her arm and Libertus has a broken leg in a cast.

It's been hours and hours since they first arrived back, but this is the first opportunity they've had to all settle down and talk about what happened - everyone's been too busy putting down the last few daemons and restoring order to the city and capturing any remaining Kingsglaive traitors, and that's still ongoing, left in the hands of Cor's trusted Crownsguard lieutenants.

"So, today we went to form a Covenant with Titan," Cor says after a few moments of collectively stunned silence. "What'd we miss?"

That gets a laugh out of the room.

"I think you can gather the general outline of what happened here," King Regis says wryly. "And even I don't know all of the specifics yet. We'll be doing clean-up for days, if not weeks, yet to come"

"There is one thing I'd like to mention to the group up front, though," Mr. Amicitia says, frowning. "I was assigned to lead the division of the Crownsguard meant to arrest the emperor – unsuccessfully, as you can see –"

"How did that happen?" Cor asks, frowning as well. "You're easily a match for any of the MT guards they had, much less any of Niflheim's 'taur officers."

"I am," Mr. Amicitia says. "But not, it seems, for their Chancellor. He went through us like a knife through butter, and barely bothered straightening his posture to do it."

"Is he the Accursed?" Luna asks eagerly. She thinks he is, but it's not like they have any reason to know for sure.

"Still unconfirmed," Mr. Amicitia says, "but let's say – it seems reasonable."

"That would mesh with my observations as well," Queen Aulea says. "In fact, I'm hunting down a lead at the moment – Cyrella, your assistance in the library would be invaluable here –"

"Of course," Cyrella says.

"But that matter can be discussed further later," Queen Aulea continues, much to Luna's disappointment. "I take it from Titan's guest appearance that the Covenant was successful? I would appreciate the details."

The rest of the evening is mostly spent rehashing things and getting damage reports, which isn't quite as interesting as Luna thought it would be. And she's also extremely tired, so she's more relieved than she'll ever admit when Scientia insists that they go home after only a few hours.

Iggy complains, but a yawn breaks through right as he's trying to point out why he can stay, so Scientia doesn't accept his arguments.

When they get home, Luna wants nothing more than her bed, but it was a very exciting day, a very dangerous day. She's sure her mother will want to hear that she's doing fine, so, as much as she prefers to go straight to bed, she sits down at the little long-distance camera-phone set up she has on her desk and calls Tenebrae.

There's no answer.

Frowning, Luna tries again, but still – no luck.

Well, that happens sometimes, when her mother or brother are too busy to take her call. They'll call her back soon enough.

She goes to bed, secure in that knowledge.

That security becomes increasingly frayed when, over the next week, Tenebrae stubbornly refuses to either call her or answer her calls.

"I don't know what to do," Luna stresses to Scientia. "I don't want to bother King Regis with this – he's supervising all the rebuilding and everything –"

"It's important," Scientia tells her. "Not just because you're important, though of course you are, but because your mother is one of our allies. I'll set up a meeting with King Regis this afternoon, and I'll be happy to come with you when you talk to him, if you like."

"Yes please," Luna says, because she might be fourteen and have known King Regis for years now, but he's still scary when he's sitting on his throne.

King Regis listens to her concern and promises to make a few calls of his own, and, if those result in nothing, to send someone undercover to find out what's happened.

And so Luna waits, filling her time with school, and extra fighting lessons, and talking on her camera-phone with Cindy now that the other 'taur has all the pieces she needed to build her own receiver.

A month goes by, and then another, including Prompto's blissfully uneventful (albeit restricted to Insomnia) birthday party.

King Regis tells Luna that they've sent someone to go find out what's going on, and that they have a new receiver with them in case all that's happened is that the old one broke.

That's reassuring, a little, but not as much as she'd like. She wants news. She wants news now!

Sadly, the universe does not align itself with her whims, so she resigns herself to waiting.

Luna's in school when the call finally comes.

"– when I said now, I mean now," she hears Scientia saying from the corridor, sounding irritated, and gathers up her books with an apologetic smile at her classmates, who smile back, and slips out with a nod of approval from her teacher.

"I've gotten all my things," Luna says, seeing an annoyed Scientia with a harried-looking vice-principal. "Shall I be excused for the rest of today?"

"Yes," Scientia says before the vice-principal can respond. "Come along, Luna."

Luna comes along.

"What's going on?" she asks when they're in the car heading back to the Citadel. "Is everyone all right?"

If someone needs her healing – but no, she only does her healing sessions once a week, under Scientia's close observation to ensure that she's not over-extending herself – but maybe one of the children? Noctis?

"Everyone's fine," Scientia says. "Your mother called."

Luna brightens. "That's wonderful news! At last! What was it – did the receiver break?"

"In a sense," Scientia says, and says no more.

Luna rushes into King Regis' secondary office, since he also has a receiver there and her mother would more likely have called him than her given the time of day, not to mention the diplomatic protocol involved.

When she gets there, though, King Regis and Queen Aulea are there, and they look grave, and her mother is on the screen, and her steely mother’s eyes are wet with tears.

Belatedly, Luna begins to worry. "What's wrong?" she asks, looking at the adults. "Mother, what's happened? You got the new receiver working -"

"It's your brother," Queen Aulea says gently. "He's been taken by Niflheim; they broke the receiver to cover their tracks."

Luna staggers back, covering her mouth with her hand.

"It's worse than that," Luna's mother says, covering her eyes with her hands. "Ravus – Luna, Ravus went with them willingly."

"We will have to put our plans for the Inferniad on hold, of course," Regis tells Cor. "Which was likely the purpose of this gambit, assuming the Chancellor is in fact the Accursed."

Cor nods, agreeing. There is simply no way they can afford to split their forces for the Inferniad – every children's story and historical record they can find have all confirmed that Ifrit's fallen body, or his consciousness' consignment to deep storage if you preferred to think of it that way, had been rather notoriously placed within the Rock of Ravatogh, Lucis' most fearsome volcano.

A volcano, unfortunately, positioned very close to the border with Niflheim and Accordo.

Niflheim would need only send its fleet of airships to secure the location, and from reports they've been receiving, they already have.

That leaves only two approaches to get to the volcano: stealth, by some means they have not yet figured out, or a full-frontal attack.

Kidnapping Ravus Nox Fleuret was a very effective way to ensure that the latter option would not be feasible. Niflheim – or rather, its too-intelligent Chancellor – undoubtedly knows that Luna is being fostered in Lucis, and that Sylvia would demand Lucis' help in retrieving her son. Lucis could not afford to refuse, having taken the woman's daughter from her.

And so Cor was assigned to go attempt a resuce, and an elite division of the Crownsguard was to go with him as well; without them, no reasonable attack could be waged.

There was still some time before the Inferniad, but none of them thought the current situation likely to resolve in time.

"I would appreciate you taking some Kingsglaive with you as well," Regis adds. "The morale in that unit has been very low, given the ongoing trials."

Scientia is taking perhaps more glee than she ought to in ensuring that each and every traitorous wretch receives every single possible right they are due under the Lucis Charter, and rubbing it in their faces while she's at it. Her comparison of the laws of Lucis and Niflheim – pointing out that as traitors to the state, they would probably have just been shot on sight or possibly handed over as living specimens for experimentation if they had been prisoners of Niflheim – are growing increasingly less subtle.

Cor is in favor, though Regis worries that she's being cruel. Clarus is firmly on Scientia's side, though: he thinks that her comparisons might even be breaking through the shell of lies they've all told themselves, and possibly offering hope of eventual rehabilitation – though of course they will never be trusted with military service or even unmonitored access to the Citadel again.

The penalty for having been very good liars.

But for all that, it cannot be denied that morale amongst the Kingsglaive is in fact very low. The betrayals gave support to the unfounded accusations of their most bitterly xenophobic critics, who alleged that refugees would never truly become loyal to their new home and would thus turn on it at the first instance. Worse, the remaining Kingsglaive can't even defend themselves - the betrayals did occur, and Drautos/Glauca's particular choice of rhetoric had become public - other than to point out that most of the Kingsglaive did not betray Lucis, and that it was the Kingsglaive that suffered the highest casualties in opposing the traitors.

It wasn't much balm, though, especially during the seemingly endless series of funerals for the Kingsglaive that had been killed by 'taurs they considered to be brothers and sisters, often quite literally by being stabbed in the back.

No, the Kingsglaive needs something to cheer it back up, some heroism they can point to and say: we did that, for you. We are still willing to do what we must for Lucis, for Insomnia, for us all.

"I was already planning on it," Cor tells Regis. "I'm going to split up our attack, creating two teams: a larger armed force consisting of the main Crownsguard force, led by Monica, which will go straight to Tenebrae, focusing on liberating Sylvia's manor and assisting with the search using that as a springing off point, in case they've hidden Ravus near there, and a smaller strike force, let by me, to go straight into Niflheim to try to see if we can find him hidden in Gralea."

"Niflheim's capital," Regis murmurs. “That’ll be dangerous.”

Cor inclines his head slightly. "Agreed. As I said, I will lead the second strike force personally. Additionally, I plan to take some Kingsglaive – they're more accustomed to independent movement than the Crownsguard, since they're not as familiar with regular formation training."

"That makes sense," Regis says. "Not to mention the optics of the Immortal willingly going into battle supported by only Kingsglaive, demonstrating trust in them...yes, very good. You have my blessing – take whomever you like."

"I'll take the Ulric twins," Cor says.

"Oh?" Regis says, his eyebrows arching. "I'd rather thought that you'd want them to stay here - for the new leadership of the Kingsglaive...?"

Cor snorts. Regis would think that – he was never much of a war-leader, but then that's why he has Clarus and Cor.

"They're fantastic soldiers, and excellent leaders in the field," he says gently. "But they'd be awful captains. They're heroes by nature, not soldiers: they want to protect people from bad things, and that includes war. They'd name themselves to head every awful mission, just to spare others from having to do it; they'd refuse to assign the best people to the job for sentimentality's sake; and they'd probably get themselves dramatically killed by sheer over-exhaustion at the first instance."

"Never heard of anyone like that before," Clarus says dryly from where he's curled up on a couch. His injuries are healing well, though he's still bandaged up. "Not once."

"I," Cor says with dignity, "grew out of it. And they might, too, but they're not there yet. Besides, you've seen the quality of their paperwork."

Regis and Clarus wince. In the last few months, they've been jointly acting as the Kingsglaive's direct commander. Cor has taken a particular delight in forcing them to do all the paperwork that comes with the job – more, since they have to review Drautos’ past paperwork as well. At least for that project they have Scientia’s army of lawyers to explain the nuances, but the new documents? It’s all them.

Even for men accustomed to the paperwork of government, the paperwork of the military is an unpleasant beast of burden.

“No, they’re definitely not captain material, at least not yet,” Cor says firmly. “They’re heroes, and Kingsglaive needs heroes right now; I’m going to take them and give them a chance to do what they do best.”

“Any suggestions on who should be the next captain, then?” Clarus asks.

“Libertus.”

“Libertus?”

“Basically all of the Kingsglaive like him, he’s moderately easy-going but doesn’t let people walk all over him, he’s a decent fighter but a better strategist, and he has an entirely instinctual but very good code of ethics,” Cor says with a shrug. “And he somehow gets all of his paperwork done on time, which is frankly a miracle.”

Regis and Clarus look marginally convinced by that last one.

“Take it under advisement,” Cor suggests. “I’ll go pack.”

Packing, however, is complicated by the fact that when he gets home, there’s an overgrown puppy sitting in his pack instead of his clothing.

“Prom,” Cor says.

“I want to come with you,” Prompto says firmly.

“Prompto,” Cor says again.

“It’s Niflheim,” Prompto insists. “I’m a skeleton key, remember?” He waves his barcoded wrist. “I’d be useful.”

“Prompto. No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re nine. I’m not taking a nine-year-old into a battlefield. Not on purpose, anyway!”

“But –”

“No, Prompto.” Cor lifts Prompto out of his bag and puts him down near the door. “This one’s just me.”

“It’s always just you,” Prompto grumbles.

“Yes,” Cor says. “Because I’m an adult.”

“Just like you were when you joined the Crownsguard?” Prompto asks innocently, looking up through his eyelashes.

“Nice try, sneaky,” Cor tells him. “I was older than you are now.”

By at least four years, he tells himself virtuously. Maybe something like three and a half if you want to be bothered by little things like rounding and birth certificates. Damnit, it still counts.

Judging from the look Prompto is giving him, Cor’s not doing a great job keeping an entirely straight face about it.

Also, Gladio, at eleven, is getting dangerously close to thirteen.

He really hopes they finish the whole Prophecy before then, or he'll totally run out of decent arguments.

Somehow divining the direction of Cor's thoughts, Prompto sits back on his hindquarters, crosses his arms, and says, "If Gladio was the one –"

"He isn't," Cor says firmly. "Besides, he'd be staying home anyway to take care of his dad. Remember that?"

Prompto looks a little shamefaced for a moment, remembering Clarus' injuries, but quickly rallies with, "Iggy –"

"Is trying to comfort Luna, given how upset she is over Ravus’ defection. And Noctis is your age, so don't even try."

"Noct can do the summoning thing," Prompto points out. "No one else can. He'd be useful, too."

Cor sighs and settles down on his underbelly to look at Prompto. "Prom, I'm not refusing to take you because you won't be useful. I'm refusing to take you because you could be in danger, and I don't want that to happen."

"Danger's a part of life," Prompto replies. He sounds like he's quoting someone. Probably Cor. "It's how you prepare for it and how you handle it that matters."

Definitely Cor.

Damnit.

"Prom –"

"You said I could get a present or a privilege if I exceeded my shooting targets," Prompto says. "I did. Two days ago. I want to come with you."

"Prom –"

"This is what I want!"

Cor hates saying no to Prompto. But sometimes a 'taur's gotta do what a 'taur's gotta do.

"No, Prompto. You're not coming with me."

"Fine," Prompto explodes, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. "You go by yourself and maybe get hurt like Gladio's dad or – or – or worse, just because you wouldn't take me, and then I'll be sad and it'll be all your fault! So there!"

"Prompto –"

But Prompto is already turning and fleeing to the door. "Guess I'd better say goodbye now," he says, sniffling. "Since you're probably gonna be gone soon. But I'm still mad!"

And then he runs out.

Cor didn't even get his usual pre-mission good-luck hug.

He feels bereft.

"Six, what he'll be like as a teenager," Cor murmurs, scrubbing at his face. "I don't even want to know."

He hopes that his bright, sunny Prompto rethinks his decision not to say goodbye any further, but he doubts it – Prompto's definitely absorbed Cor's stubbornness.

No – best to just accept the way things are. They'll make up when he gets back.

Besides, if the worst should happen, he's written letters for Prompto to open, reassuring him of his love for him, his pride in his development, everything. Cor rewrites those letters twice each year, updating it with new details, new compliments, to make sure they're as good as he can get them.

It won't be enough, he doesn't kid himself about that. But it'll be – something.

Cor turns back to his packing.

A 'taur's gotta do what a 'taur's gotta do...

Nyx is honestly shocked that Cor Leonis has lived as long as he has.

"You – you – the Immortal – head of the Crownsguard – most well-known fighter in Lucis – have been to Niflheim before – how many times?!"

"I've lost count," Cor (the reckless bastard) says with a shrug.

“And after all that, the best you can do is tell us that it’s cold?!”

"Well. It is cold."

"What a characteristically effusive description," Hemera signs, rolling her eyes. "Please, tell us what you really think."

Cor shrugs.

"Remind me about the part where we need all the luggage?" Nyx asks, jerking his head back towards the literal crates of luggage they have on the back of the truck. "Seems unnecessary. I thought you told us to pack light."

"Those crates are necessary."

"But there's nothing in them but clothing!" Nyx protests.

"You looked?"

"Well, at one of them..."

Cor looks long-suffering. "The luggage itself isn't important. Having the luggage is important."

"How?" Hemera asks.

"The reason I've been so successful at smuggling myself into and out of Niflheim is that I do it a different way each time," Cor explains. "This time, since I have you two, we're going to go with the direct approach."

"I feel like there's a hidden jibe in there about Kingsglaive discipline," Nyx says to Hemera, shaking his head mock-mournfully. He can only joke about it because he knows that of all people, Cor wouldn't.

"Crownsguard humor," Hemera agrees. "Sad. Very sad."

"Shut up, both of you," Cor says, sounding amused – which is better than the rather gloomy he's sounded since he left Insomnia. Something to do with his kid; Nyx isn't sure what.

"So what is the plan, and why does it involve luggage with clothing?" Hemera asks.

"You're going as a noble canidaetaur lady, Hemera," Cor says. "From Galahd; you're visiting Niflheim. You know they allow canidaetaurs in pretty liberally, even if they're from Lucis-aligned states."

"That's true," Hemera signs, but she's scowling. "But – a lady? Why?"

"Because then Nyx can go as your bodyguard, and since, as a lady, you'd never stoop to pantomime when someone doesn't understand you because of your deafness, that means I can go as your translator," Cor says. "Your meek, scholarly translator, who you have no choice but to take with you everywhere you go, even if it's technically barred to felidaetaurs."

"That's brilliant," Nyx says after a moment of sheer appreciation. "As a translator, they'd start seeing you less as a person and more as a floating narrative voice."

"Exactly," Cor says.

"Meek?" Hemera signs doubtfully. "You?"

"I'm a decent actor when it calls for it," Cor says dryly. "Also, I have an ugly set of glasses – you'd be amazed how much they help."

Nyx can't wait to see that.

"I see your tail wagging, Ulric First," Cor says warningly.

"Who, me?" Nyx says, deliberately wagging it harder.

"I feel like I should be Ulric First for this trip," Hemera signs. "Given that I'm the noble lady and all. Ugh, does that mean I have to wear jewelry?!"

"Looks like it, selena," Nyx says fondly. "Also, we're getting close to the ferry to Altissia – Cor, should she change?"

"No, no need; changing on board is fine," Cor says. "The ship itself is secure – staffed and filled with people we trust. I want to leave as soon as we get to the port."

"And here I was hoping to experience Galdin Quay for myself," Nyx says, sighing over-dramatically. "The largest population of Galahdians outside of Galahd, you know. They might have real food, not that bland stuff you makes us all live off in Insomnia."

"You'll live," Cor says.

Boarding the ferry is easy enough. Cor produces the snazzy new identity papers they're going to use. Hemera's is ridiculous – Lady Adrasteia delia Ushas, of the Laomedon Estates over on one of the northern isles. It's a real place, with a fairly notorious tendency to change hands between its many distant family members due to a very unfortunate testamentary decision made generations back . Nyx is Erebus Black, a longtime family retainer and her personal bodyguard, and poor Cor is Geryon Praeneste, a translator.

"At least you got the names right," Nyx says cheerfully. "I was worried you used Lucian roots, instead of Galahdian ones."

Cor rolls his eyes. "You done checking us in?" he asks the guy in charge of greeting guests. "Good. Let's be off as soon as possible."

"We delayed departure of an earlier timed vessel for you," the guy says. "So you're the last guests; we can leave at once as soon as your luggage is stowed. Go make yourself comfortable – the journey will be about five hours long from Galdin."

"Five hours?" Nyx asks blankly. He can sail, though as an inlander he doesn't make too much of a habit of it, and he can read a map. "How?"

"There's a cruise element," the guy says with a shrug. "For fancy vessels like this one, we prefer the scenic – and, coincidentally, slightly safer – approach to Altissia. There are more direct routes, but..."

"Not as fancy, not as safe, gotcha."

Hemera pokes Cor, who has his eyes turned back to shore with a very un-Cor-like gloom again. "Let's get something to eat first."

Nyx approves of her plan – and not just because he's always hungry, the way she's always teasing him about. Cor's a leader, first and foremost, and he takes care to ensure that his people are full and energized.

Even if he does pick at the food on his own plate like it's personally offended him.

"You okay?" Nyx asks after a bit.

Cor shrugs. "I have a food thing," he says vaguely. "Hasn't acted up in a while. I'll get down enough to be functional, don't worry."

They spend about an hour at the ship's truly stellar buffet, clowning around a bit in hopes of lifting Cor out of his sulk. They're not entirely successfully, but he does start laughing at the lobster quadrille they put on, complete with Nyx singing the words.

"All right," Cor says after a while. "Go get changed; if there's anything we need to fix, I want to know it now."

Nyx's outfit consists of an overcoat of dark greys and dark purples of the Laomedon estate, very stern but for the somewhat flouncy white shirt underneath – very piratical – which is pretty standard for more monied Galahdians to insist on for their households. He dabs kohl under his eyes, too, which he hasn't had to do for any practical purpose since he left Galahd, and braids the appropriately fierce set of beads into his hair: he's already got good luck ones for fighting, honor and good health in, but he adds loyalty and commitment, plus a whimsical strand signifying smooth sailing – which, in slang, is an indication that he's both single and open to sharing his next heat with the right 'taur if someone's interested.

He's about halfway through touching up his tattoos with a henna overlay that suggests a slightly more conservative heritage when he hears the yelp.

He's out of the door in half a second. "Hemera! What is it?"

Cor's out there too, sword in hand.

"You're going to have to break that habit if you want to come off as meek, you know," Nyx tells him. Now that he's had a second to consider, Hemera's yelp was surprised but didn’t sound like she was either in pain or afraid.

Cor rolls his eyes. He's in a pretty clever variant of understated Lucian servant dress – same colors as Nyx, yet somehow desaturated and even more conservative a cut, more business-suit than soldier. His clothing is a bit too large for him, making him even thinner than he already is and hiding his powerful shoulders. He does, in fact, have a set of spectacles on that somehow manage to complete the effect of a weedy, anxious little man.

It’s – actually really effective. And super weird.

Shit, how many people has Nyx overlooked while on guard duty if Cor the freaking Immortal can do that?

To avoid having to think about that too hard, Nyx knocks on his sister's door. "Selena? You okay?"

She knocks back 'yes, give me a second'.

"One sec," Nyx tells Cor.

"I know what that means, yes," Cor says dryly, putting away his sword.

A few moments later, Hemera opens the door partway. "You will never believe what I found in the luggage next to my dresses," she signs, looking exasperated, and then she opens the door the rest of the way and drags forward –

"Prompto!" Cor exclaims, rushing forward and embracing him.

"Hi, Cor," Prompto replies, smiling broadly and hugging him back.

"What are you doing here?" Cor demands after a few seconds. "I told you that you couldn't come!"

"I'm your skeleton key," Prompto says firmly. "I'm not gonna let you go without me."

"You do know I've been in Niflheim multiple times before, right?"

"Yes, but you've never been to Zegnautus Keep," Prompto replies. "I heard you and Uncle Clarus talking about it."

"Zegnautus Keep?" Nyx echoes, eyebrows arching. "No wonder you needed a noble lady involved, if you wanted to get an invite in there. Isn't that a giant airship that's only sometimes a city?"

"It's the seat of the Emperor when he's at Gralea," Cor says. "If Ravus went willingly, like Sylvia says, and they decided to leave Tenebrae, then that'll be where in Niflheim they take him. His pride won't permit anything less. Prom, I have half a mind to turn this ship around right now and send you back home!"

"Does that mean you have half a mind that you won't?" Prompto says hopefully. "You'd lose a lot of time that way, you know."

Cor sighs. "Prom, we're going undercover –"

"I know!" he interrupts. "I got Noctis to lend me some of his court clothing; I'll fit in with the nobility disguise, no problem!"

"Noctis?" Cor says, sounding alarmed. "Prom, if Noctis is there, I am turning this ship around, time loss or no time loss!"

"No, no," Prompto says quickly, though his tail's started going a million miles an hour at the suggestion in Cor's voice that he might not get left behind. "He had to stay back at home, since he's helping out with the rebuilding effort and doing a lot of public appearances and charity visits and stuff. Iggy's helping him with all of that, plus he's got to take care of Luna, and Gladio has to stay with Noctis 'cause he's his Shield and also 'cause of his dad –"

"Gladio knows he's not officially a Shield until he turns sixteen and gets his tattoo, right?" Cor asks, clearly having given up on turning the ship around, to judge by the way he's absently started grooming Prompto's fur and the way his tail has gone all relaxed and happy.

"He's still a Shield, even if it's unofficial," Prompto says firmly. "And that's everyone accounted for, except for me, and I'm with you."

Cor groans.

"He can be my son," Hemera signs. "I'll be a tragic widowed heiress, taking her only son and heir to visit the land of his father – a dashing Niflheim sailor who visited Galahd only briefly before dying tragically saving lives in a storm –"

"Glacian's jewels, Hemera, where'd you get that from?" Nyx exclaims. "A romance novel?"

"Telenovela, actually," she says, grinning. "They're kind of addictive. I've gotten Libertus into them – you're next."

"Fuck no I'm not next."

Cor has his eyes covered. "This is a terrible idea," he grumbles.

"But you're doing it, right?" Prompto asks eagerly.

Cor taps Prompto's nose with a finger, causing the puppy to giggle and hide his face. "I'm going to need you to be very careful, okay?" he says. "First sign of serious danger, you're going back on the boat."

Prompto's nodding furiously.

"You have a screwed up sense of danger, boss," Nyx can't resist telling Cor, even though it makes Prompto give him a dirty look. "You sure this is a good idea?"

"It's Niflheim," Cor says, like that explains anything. Perhaps figuring out from Nyx's glare that he needs to expand on that, he adds, "Prompto's originally from Niflheim – possibly even from Gralea proper. It's an important part of his heritage, and I don't want to keep him from it."

"An important part of his heritage which we're at war with," Nyx points out. "And currently infiltrating."

Cor makes a face. "In my defense, it isn't actually the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Knowing you? That's totally not a defense," Hemera signs. "Come on, kiddo," she adds to Prompto, who – thank the Six – is fluent in LSL after all these years. "Let's get you dressed up – luckily your hair is just long enough for some proper braids – oh, and we'll get some henna on you, too –"

Nyx shakes his head in amusement. "We'll keep an eye on him, boss," he tells Cor. "Don't worry. We're really good at playing up the stereotypical Galahd thing when we need to – no one will question our disguises."

"I hope I'm doing the right thing," Cor murmurs, looking at Hemera's now-closed door with no little anxiety. "He's so young..."

Nyx clasps his shoulder. "He's clearly coming along whether you want him to or not," he tells him. "Might as well keep him safe and close to you. Turning around now would nuke the entire mission – the Niffs know our ferry schedules, and they have eyes in Accordo."

"I know," Cor says. "That's the only reason I'm agreeing."

He reaches over and snags a sandwich that Nyx smuggled out of the buffet for later. Taking a nice, big bite, he says, "Say, do you think the buffet's still open? Prom might be hungry."

"I'll check," Nyx offers, hiding his smile. In his opinion, this mission's chances of success just went up considerably: Cor is pretty fearsome as a general rule, but in a good mood and with a kid to protect?

Gralea doesn't stand a chance.