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midnight1nk · 20 days

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Love is a powerful force.

The love between friends, family, partners. And most importantly, the love one has for themselves. In the SMG4 show, this is no different. I’ve touched on this back in my ‘ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4’ theory. In IGBP, Boopkins said this:

“Love wins! Love always wins!”

[’It’s Gotta Be Perfect’ // timestamp 28:56]

He wasn’t wrong. The countless enemies the Crew has encountered, all were resolved one way or another through the power of love. No one ever said love didn’t come at a price.

The good guys indeed win, but not without sacrifice. They kept their promise, but not without loss.

However, despite everything, love always remained.

A connection bounded by love is delicate. It can either make itself stronger or it could break.

For our returning character, Marty, his connection with Mario was broken due to a one-sided betrayal. As I also discussed in my ‘WOTFI 2024 Predictions’, Marty would take his revenge on Mario in WOTFI 2024. Ever since his debut, Marty has been overworking and feeling underappreciated. Underestimated. The only ally he had was Mario. That was until Mario, his own creator, abandoned him for a plate of spaghetti. And that is who Marty will go against.

There is one more taking his revenge on the crew: Mr Puzzles. As seen at the end of The Meme Factory Arc, Mr Puzzles swore that he would be back and indeed did in ‘SMG4: Inside Out’. Well, at least that was how it was. With the current episodes coming out, some people were confused about why this wasn’t mentioned again.

The truth, my dear fellows, is that his plan has already started and we didn’t even realize it.

Follow me as I discuss the parallels between previous arcs, a callback to narrative foils, and most importantly: a sequel…

PUZZLEVISION 2: NOW AIRING

⚠️ DISCLAIMER IN INTRO POST ⚠️

“The worst of times are when you have to force your biggest smiles…”

I’ve made many theories on SMG4, a few now posted on Tumblr. However, this was the actual first theory I came up with, not ‘ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4’. It all started back after the Puzzlevision arc ended when, out of pure curiosity, I decided to check out the PV website. It was mostly to see if it was still up and, to my surprise, it was. Not only that but it was replaced with a whole new image.

If Gravity Falls taught me anything, it’s that something never truly ended.

Ever since then, every Wednesday and Saturday, I would check back at the website to see if there was any change. It seemed like my efforts were worth it because, on one of those days, the image became a GIF. I unfortunately wasn’t able to capture it to show but I know I’m not the only one who has seen this. All I could offer instead is this…

Back when it was still the PV arc, there was a moment when you could save a PNG of Mr Puzzles, and every time it did, it would show a message.

“Downloading me is pretty rude” (correct me if I’m wrong) — Mario’s Mysteries ”Still pretty rude of you” — Once Upon an SMG4 ”You don’t seem to listen, do you?” — Scooby Mario, Where'd You Go! ”HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA” — Mr. Puzzles' Incredible Game Show Spectacular!

Now, when you save the image this is what comes up:

“Now Airing”

And if you look closer, the file type is also there [gif-to-webp]

The term "Now Airing" is obviously used when a program is currently on the airing schedule of the channel. The people behind SMG4 didn’t need to put this image in, they didn’t need to keep this website on. But they did.

"That's All Folks!" Yeah, right. Nice try.

Looks like this website is about to come back to life, and a new game is afoot.

WOTFI 2024

In my ‘WOTFI 2024 Predictions’, I’ve picked apart the episode ‘We Must Kill Mario’ and how it would relate to this year’s WOTFI.

I’ve intentionally left some details/questions out from the post. The biggest example being Marty’s speech. It stuck out for me when I first heard it, it was way too specific and way too familiar.

“The one person I trusted the most has left me behind for… SPAGHETTI! Now I’ve escaped! …And it's time for… everyone to suffer like I have! At the hands… of the one thing YOU love the MOST.”

Then I realized why: the Meme Factory mini-arc.

Mr Puzzles never had friends growing up, it’s what got him obsessed with television. It was also the core motive to creating the perfect show, that any kid who is just like he was won’t be alone anymore. Of course, he got defeated by the SMG4 crew.

In the mini-arc, Mr Puzzles and Leggy went through the Meme Factory so he could have power again. For the first time, he got to experience what was like to have a friend. While he initially wanted to do this on his own, he had Leggy as part of it. That was until the Crew beat him once again, turning Leggy back into Meggy. This was different, this truly did hurt.

Because what’s worse than having no friends? It’s to be betrayed by someone who you thought was your friend. And the SMG4 crew was to blame for it. Now with the Marty speech, it applies to him:

“The one person I trusted the most has left me behind for… them! Now I’ve returned! …And it's time for… everyone to suffer like I have! At the hands… of the one thing YOU love the MOST.”

If that's so, then what is the 'one thing'?

Well, with spaghetti going from Mario’s one true love to becoming poison, it’s only logical that Mr Puzzles would turn someone from the Crew to go against them. A friend that would destroy their friendships. And he already had the perfect choice:

“And SMG4, who knew you could play an antagonist so well! High marks from me.”

[Puzzlevision]

When Mr Puzzles returned in ‘SMG4: Inside Out’, he latched onto Four’s mind and took over. For what purposes, we don’t know. Yet. But the Crew would have to save Four once again.

But Four isn’t showing any signs of control or possession?

No, but it doesn’t mean Mr Puzzles isn’t working behind the scenes, watching over Four’s every move.

Back in ‘We Must Kill Mario’, when Karen’s kids were flipping over the videos on the SMG4 channel, they stopped and jumped for joy at ‘Mario’s Mysteries’. A Puzzlevision episode.

Later on, when Marty revealed his motive behind his poisonous spaghetti sauce and declared that he was going to come back when he escaped from Karen, it left many questions:

How did he escape from jail?

Who is driving the helicopter?

How did he even get inside the house?

We can assume. But to know in absolute, no.

After Marty escapes, Karen thanks Four and Mario for keeping her kids safe, saying:

“I owe you one.”

Now, I did say that this could mean that Karen could have a big role in WOTFI ‘24 where she will finish the job. But it also could be interpreted in another way.

You saved my kids, but now let me help save your life, SMG4.

If Mr Puzzles is really working behind the curtain, then it would turn out that, as of right now, two arcs are happening simultaneously.

And this wouldn’t be the first time.

WESTERN SPAGHETTI & WOTFI 2023

Let’s rewind to Marty’s debut episode, ‘SMG4: Mario is Fine’ when, just as any other episode, a wacky adventure with Mario. Except for the very end, when the episode ends with an ominous close-up of Marty, clearly implying that there is more than what meets the eye. For the rest of the episodes, it went along like this:

[Marty’s debut]

Marty’s strange and subtle appearances (he was just standing there)

the Western Spaghetti arc

Marty’s even stranger appearances that none of the crew took seriously (like the interrogation scene with Shroomy in 'SMG4: SMG4 Kids')

WOTFI 2023 (the Notebook arc)

It starting to parallel to episodes we currently have:

Mr Puzzles’ Return (’SMG4: Inside Out’)

His sudden appearances like 'Mario Lost His M(o)ustache'

(+ perhaps future subtle hints that something is wrong with Four)

WOTFI 2024

"something is really wrong with Four" moments

Puzzlevision 2

Structure-wise, it is similar. But with Four involuntarily along for the ride, this makes things more complex character and lore-wise. Hmm, curious…

Possession, power, perfection.

Do any of these words ring a bell?

…I think it’s time to revisit an old enemy of the SMG4 crew, one achieved far greater than anyone of us could’ve imagined.

To create the perfect universe.

GENESIS & REVELATIONS: THE INFAMOUS TWO-PARTER

Before I called this "Puzzlevision 2: Now Airing", this was the "Reverse Genesis" theory because I saw how Genesis and Puzzlevision were really similar. Genesis had Revelations right after, so I suspected that Puzzlevision would have a sequel of sorts. Let me explain:

GENESIS

⭐️ Initial Motive

Zero, a virus from a different universe. He traveled from universe to universe, destroying them by killing their corresponding avatars.

Zero had the power to convert Mario into his new Avatar and a new universe. He was close to completing the process until the SMG4 crew intervened.

⭐️ Zero's Defeat

The Crew worked together to save Mario. Three and Four were able to use their guardian powers to transfer meme energy to Mario.

Axol sacrificed himself to save everyone and defeat Zero (but didn’t outright kill Zero).

REVELATIONS

⭐️ True Form

It turns out that Zero is two people: SMG0 and Niles.

SMG0 wanted things to go back to the way they were when the memes were getting corrupted > Niles and the creation of the meme cycle > Niles getting obsessed with the idea of a perfect universe.

He returns in Revelations to carry out his plan, carrying a grudge for the other Meme Guardians.

We see Zero’s true appearance, the one without Axol's physical features.

⭐️ Controlling the Most Vulnerable

Nine latched onto Melony, who was grieving over Axol’s death.

He used Melony to learn her god powers so he could use her to get to the God Box and reunite with SMG0.

⭐️ The Drawing

Melony drew a picture of her and Axol a week after WOTFI ended.

In her mindscape, Niles impersonating Axol ridiculed Melony for not being strong enough and for hanging on to Axol, ripping her drawing.

Melony fought back, claiming how their friendship gave her strength and it would be the same thing that she'd use to end Niles.

⭐️ Round Two: The End

Another fight against Zero in his true form, back to where it all started: the God Box.

Zero finally gets defeated, being killed in the explosion, allowing SMG0 and Niles to move on.

⭐️ A Sacrifice

Terrance was sacrificed to save everyone before the God Box gets blown up.

PUZZLEVISION

⭐️ Initial Motive

As I already mentioned, Mr Puzzles didn't have friends growing up and got obsessed with TV.

He wanted to be on TV and tried to achieve 5 stars with his streaming service, Puzzlevision.

He managed to get them and create the perfect show where the audience gets to be involved. At least, for a moment.

⭐️ Mr Puzzles' Defeat

While he managed to get 4.5 stars with 5 episodes, the Crew beat him with 5.5 stars within an hour special.

Mr Puzzles received a final but non-fatal blow from SMG4.

Technically, Luigi sacrificed himself by taking the hit from Mr Puzzles instead of the Crew. But no one really died.

NOW AIRING

[We're entering the predictions part of this theory, let's go:]

⭐️ True Form

Due to the Meme Factory arc, he is motivated more than ever to crush the SMG4 crew.

PREDICTION: he might show this true self(?), one where we see his body mingled in wires and metal

⭐️ Controlling the Most Vulnerable

Mr Puzzles has three choices regarding who to control:

Meggy — Tortured in ‘Western Spaghetti’, was friends with him when she was “Leggy”

Four — Possessed in ‘It’s Gotta Be Perfect’, terrified that another IGBP incident would happen, a perfect narrative foil to Mr Puzzles and the most likely choice.

Three — Notebook stolen for WOTFI 2024, has the most to lose (his café, friends, domestic life, etc), and able to emotionally manipulate.

⭐️ The Drawing

Just like Melony, Three drew him and Four in his notebook after WOTFI. The only difference is that her page is more open and seen whereas his notebook is personal and secretive.

This drawing will come into play whether Controlled!4 or Mr Puzzles find it and ridicule him for being soft, ripping it even.

Three would use it as proof to Four that Three really cared about him, that as much as he denies it and play it off like they aren't, they're friends. What he said when they were in the pit wasn't out of desperation to save himself. He meant it.

⭐️ Round Two: The End

Final Battle with Mr Puzzles, perhaps this time being his final goodbye.

⭐️ A Sacrifice

As mentioned in my ‘ONCE UPON A Ṕ̷̱E̴̺̽R̵̖̎̕F̵̢̗̈́̀E̴̞̍C̴͈̽T̶͓̘̈́ SMG4' theory, someone may be sacrificed. A character doesn’t necessarily have to die, it could just be a fake death, which leaves us with several options:

Three — to show that he does care.

Four — feel guilty for being a “villain” again, so he would have to take Mr Puzzles down himself. Turning Mr Puzzles own weapon against him.

Pedro — Yes, Pedro of all characters. From his first appearance, it's likely that he's not going to come back. But then again, narrative foils. Pedro was created to be a funny man for Mr Puzzles (Pedro was able to still remain funny by the end) meanwhile Marty was created to take over the pizza shop for Mario (constantly being underappreciated and underestimated). If he doesn’t sacrifice himself to save Mario in WOTFI '24, then it would be here.

Another meme like in Revelations (please not the children please not the children please not the children)

ROLLING DOWNWARDS

With all of these arc parallels and Four's mind being invaded by Mr Puzzles, there would have to be hints about something being wrong with Four. Well, there kind of was. There are a few ways that I could think of that Mr Puzzles could use Four:

Man on the Inside

In 'Mario Lost His M(o)ustache', Mr Puzzles overhears Three’s idea to rig the votes, stopping the idea from even happening. Of course, it could be that they were right next to him, and/or they were loud. That was what I initially thought. But it could also be that Four at this point is still under his control. Four could be acting as his eyes and ears when he isn't near, unintentionally becoming a spy for Mr Puzzles.

(Those familiar with Sonic X and the Cosmo Arc, yeah, it's like that.)

Mr Puzzles could listen to every conversation, every detail. And he would know if the Crew is plotting something to get rid of him for good.

2. "Tear Themselves Apart"

Another thing I left out of my WOTFI '24 Predictions was that Mr Puzzles could speak for SMG4, interfering with Four's thoughts to make him say what Mr Puzzles wants him to say. A script of sorts.

Being in Four's mind gives him a huge advantage: Mr Puzzles has access to all of Four's memories. For one, Mr Puzzles could find out about the cosmology lore and all of the Crew's adventures.

Second: Mr Puzzles could interfere with his memories and change them. He could make Four forget about stuff.

Third: Mr Puzzles could go through and pick out what makes each member of the crew tick, making Four do all the talking for him. For example, he could bring up Desti for Meggy, Terrance/the Youtube Arc for Three, etc. Mr Puzzles wouldn't have to even lift up a finger when they can tear themselves apart.

If I wrote it: I would have Controlled!4 namedropping someone from their traumatic past or bringing out their insecurities in a passive-aggressive manner. Basically, like the examples I gave. And every one of them would start to leave the crew, hanging out less and less at the castle. SMG3 would be the last one Controlled!4 would break. I imagine them getting into a heated argument that becomes way too personal, something along the lines of:

Four?: “Dude, you fell off. You’ve gotten soft. Domestic even. And where did that get you? Oh, that’s right… Terrance.” Three, offended: "Don't you dare bring him into this!" Four?: "Hmph. Oh, yeah? What about Eggdog? Face it, SMG3, you'll always end up alone." Three: "Did what I told you at the pit meant nothing to you?" Four?: "Like I would ever believe you! You just didn't want to die. Even if you aren't a villain anymore, you are still a selfish piece of shit. Still comparing yourself to me, ha. I don't get why you would even try, you'll always be second best."

Then, Mr Puzzles, talking through Four, would slip up. Mr Puzzles would be more interested in finding all the Crew's weaknesses so any detail that wasn't part of it was skipped over. It wasn't like it was important, is what he thought. But for Three, it was everything he needed to know,

This isn’t the real Four.

Three, smirking: "Oh, so this was your big plan? I would've come up with something better than that. I guess we meet again, Mr Puzzles."

3. What if: the demonic goop is still in Four...

“Oh, SMG4! It never left.”

It would be a sort of Venom situation that, even if you tried to get rid of the parasite, some of it still remains. [insert spider-man 2 black suit theme]

During the Meme Factory arc and in several episodes, his strange behavior from IGBP came back. At times, scenes looked incredibly identical.

[........Announcement?????? // I Put Mario In Danger For Views]

Could it be bad writing? Likely. But the fact that IGBP was referenced once again for this arc, everything has to be put into consideration.

If it is confirmed that the demonic goop is still inside Four, Mr Puzzles will use it to his advantage. After all, it did work the first time in IGBP, so why not again? Not only that but it also gives him a bonus advantage, he could be working on his plan in two places at once and none of the crew would notice, thinking that they already got rid of it. It has a lot of potential to bring back the keyboard, the goop, the pit, the USB with the perfect video, and even Peach.

And if we are acting like it's a Venom situation, then maybe we could have the goop have a voice on its own. Could you imagine a "We are Venom" moment, that would be sick! (sorry, I'm just a spider-man fan.)

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

What else could happen in Puzzlevision 2?

It may be a bit too early to call since we still have to go through WOTFI. However, knowing me, that doesn't stop me from trying. For that, we have to dive into some semiology.

That’s right, we’re going in the deep end here.

Let’s head back to a familiar arc:

It's Gotta Be Perfect

While I was going over the movie for these past theories, I remembered something that piqued my curiosity.

The goop itself.

As someone who is into mythology, I spotted some familiar symbols and I've decided to give you an insight into what they are and explain why they were one of the top-tier design choices of the show.

Let's start with this one:

The Eye of God

You probably have seen this before. This is as its name states, the eye of God.

It's also known as the All-Seeing Eye because, according to Christianity, no matter what you do to hide your sins, God would see it. He sees all.

The symbol consists of an eye in the middle of a triangle. The triangle represents the Trinity (Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit). Because of this, this symbol is used for protection.

It is also similar to the Evil Eye symbol, where it's a circle instead of a triangle. This one is to ward off evil spirits/energy. (I actually have one of these myself.)

Secret societies use the symbol for other reasons: for power, wisdom, and control.

Well, yes. It would make sense why it would be in IGBP. Four's audience watches his every move and no matter what secret he has, they will pick up on it. But the symbol is also used in a negative connotation; the keyboard and Mr Puzzles use their power to control Four.

The Eye of God is also known to be the 'Third Eye', which God uses to put judgment on the people. On a human face, our third eye would be in the middle of the forehead.

And where on Four exactly did Mr Puzzles take control of?

That's right, in his mind, near where the third eye would have been.

Now, onto the next one:

The Eye of Horus

In Egyptian mythology, there are two eyes, both from deities, that are considered sacred. One of them is the Eye of Horus from, you guessed it, the sky god Horus. His left eye, to be precise.

Symbol representations include: protection, wisdom, good well-being and health, re-establishment of order from chaos, and the moon.

The eye is used as a form of measurement for pigments and medicines. We'll get to that.

Two myths connect to this symbol:

In a fierce battle between Seth (the god of deserts, storms, disorder, violence, and foreigners) and Horus, Horus got his eyes ripped out. Thoth (the god of writing and secret knowledge) helps him restore them back to where they belong, becoming a symbol of life and restoration.

The eye itself can be divided into 6 pieces, each one representing the six senses (smell, sight, thought, hearing, taste, and touch) and a specific numerical fraction. Think of it as a measuring spoon. But if you put the pieces together, the fractions don't add up to a whole. Some suspect that it was because of the magic Thoth used to restore the eye. Some say it represents the fact that perfection isn't possible.

Perfection isn't possible, that is exactly what was said in IGBP. I went frame and frame to see if this eye was flipped in any way (due to it being a texture pattern). But, nope, it stayed exactly this way. This will come back in some way in PV2, especially if the whole "the goop is still inside him" theory comes true.

PREDICTION: by the end of Puzzlevision 2, something will change about Four’s left eye (heterochromia, blind, etc.)

Still don't think it is relevant? I present to you this frame:

His left eye is within the corruption of the goop.

To the fans who had this as a headcanon, congrats on predicting this somehow!

Now, let's not mistake the Eye of Horus for the other important eye:

The Eye of Ra

While the two eyes are similar, the Eye of Ra, the right eye, is different in terms of appearance and purposes.

Symbol representations include: power, violence, fury, and the sun.

The eye is the embodiment of his daughter, Sekhmet.

Pharaohs would adorn them as amulets as a form of protection against their enemies, usually painted with a dark red. It must be handled with care because its power can easily get out of control.

Similarly to God's Third Eye, the Eye also obtains information from what it sees.

A little fact about this god: Ra places a solar disk on the top of his crown aka his head.

Again, there is a myth linked to this:

Ra was becoming old and weak, making him vulnerable. That made the people of his kingdom disrespect him, they ignored his laws and instructions. They basically made fun of him. Furious, he set his daughter (Sekhmet) to punish anyone who did this. The lion's eye, Sekhmet, went on a rampage, her roars so powerful that they conjured diseases. This killed millions of people. When Ra saw the devastation she caused, he tried to call her back to his side. She ignored him and continued on. Blood-thirsty, literally. Without a choice, he tricked her into getting drunk by using a mix of beer and pomegranate juice. She passed out for a few days and afterward, she calmed down. It wasn't all bad as the priests who worshipped her were able to create new medicines. Without her, there wouldn't be medical advancements, naming her the goddess of medicine.

What does this have to do with the SMG4 show?

Narrative foils are a constant in the show, especially in arcs. Two sides, complete opposites, are more similar than they ever realize.

Three versus Four in IGBP

Meggy versus Wren in Western Spaghetti

Four and Three versus Mario and Marty in WOTFI 2023

and of course, Four's crew versus Mr Puzzles

Then, who would be the Eye of Ra to Four's Eye of Horus?

It's Mr Puzzles.

Mr Puzzles and Four are indeed different but they are also really similar with one thing: they want to keep their audience happy. What makes them different is that Mr Puzzles sets himself is high standard for the sake of being popular while Four does it for the sake of his audience.

Just as Ra places his solar disk, Mr Puzzles got rid of his head and placed a TV, a luminous object, in its place. His obsession became his identity.

From the Meme Factory arc, Mr Puzzles swore revenge on the SMG4 crew after they disrespected him. That he seemed like a laughing stock.

But we haven't seen the Eye of Ra anywhere in the show. Unlike Four, Mr Puzzles doesn't face a humanoid face anymore. How could he have the Eye when his face is just pixelated screen?

Actually, he does and we saw it ourselves.

I present to you this from the Puzzlevision arc:

In the most human we have seen of him, we can see his right eye. Not only that, it's almond-shaped, the same shape as the Eye.

That is why one of my predictions was that we might see his 'true self'.

Am I reading too much into this? Yes. But if they were able to put the name "SMG4" into the castle door frame design, I would think twice about these design choices. This fits just perfectly right.

THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO SEE IN PV2:

Signs of Controlled!4

If the whole “he still had the demonic goop inside of him” is true, then Four’s pink scars might return.

Even better, I want to see Four already having scars from the incident, hidden under his glove and sleeve.

If not scars, then they could show his change through his wardrobe. I mean look at them:

All Four needed was some suspenders, a hat, add in a puzzle piece pattern, and they're basically twinning. Give my guy a new outfit, please!!! Hell, give him a mask even!

Meggy talks to Mr Puzzles

She confronts him for the last time, telling him that she understands where Mr Puzzles is coming from but it should give him an excuse to do what he did. What he did was unforgivable and Mr Puzzles will have to see that.

Three’s Part of the Crew

Three tells the Crew that they are his friends. Probably it slipped out or he did it on purpose. Either way, he meant it.

Three would confirm to Four that they’re friends. As much as it was Three denies it or acts very tsundre about it, he meant what he said in the pit back in IGBP.

BONUS: Three promises Controlled?4 that he would take them home. (She-Ra moment OMG!)

Mr Puzzles’ True Form Prediction

With the power he has left, he’s going all out, revealing his body mingled with wires and pieces of metal.

Cosmology Lore Returns

Before the battle, the Crew would have to gear up. Three might return to the Meme Factory to get as many memes as possibly could, using the Meme PokéBalls. He urges Eggdog to stay home.

At the battle and Four is saved from possession, Three and Four use their meme guardian powers to defeat Mr Puzzles. Add in the WOTFI 2020 tracks and the crowd goes wild!

(For those who were in the Owl House fandom, it would be a 'GROM' moment!)

Reprise of the Song ‘Creative Control’

Originally, it was about how Mr Puzzles was willing to do anything to get 5 stars and his perfect show.

Reprise could be about the SMG4 crew fighting back against his control, accepting imperfection.

(sort of how real-life TV show executives put limits on the creative team on what is allowed in the final product.)

SMG4’s Left Eye Prediction

Using the meme powers and/or defeating Mr Puzzles affected Four’s eye.

Pink - a reference to his scars and pigments, matching his ‘S’ logo (also because he looks good in pink).

Blindness — due to his scars

Mario’s ‘Best Friend Award’ For SMG4

Mario wasn’t able to give his award on MAR10 day or after IGBP.

He has the chance to give it to Four here.

THINGS ARE DEFINITELY ARE NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, BUT COPIUM

SMG4’s Locket

We never got to see who was inside Four’s locket. Who was the person waiting for him back home?

They could bring it back and finally reveal what was inside Four’s locket.

X and FM Return (+ Redesigned Models)

To be fair, it’s their choice not to be back, but I would love the Meme Machine(TM) together again.

The Boarded-Up Room & Upper Floors

Finally reveal whatever the hell is that closed-off room in the SMG4 castle.

"...And... This...Well...I'm not sure what's behind this door."

"...uh we don't talk about that room."

[SMG4: The New Castle]

Hey, Four, now is a good time to show it off. C'mon, I wanna see!

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

And that is my "Puzzlevision 2: Now Airing" theory and predictions. Undoubtedly, a sequel to Puzzlevision is going to happen. But as to what it is about? We would just have to wait and see if the power of love would be perceived once again. An arc starting from a betrayal.

"…And it's time for… everyone to suffer like I have! At the hands… of the one thing YOU love the MOST.”

The game is afoot and with that, my dear fellows, we shall see in the next upcoming episode. But, in the meantime, that’s just a theory…

AN SMG4 THEORY

🎶Thanks for dropping by🎶

#smg4 #smg4 theory #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4 puzzlevision #smg3 x smg4 #smg34 #< implied #puzzlevision 2 #once upon a perfect smg4 #wotfi 2024 predictions #THE LOREEEEEEE #please give my boy a cool new outfit PLEASEEEE

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riddles-n-games · 9 months

Note

Why do you think avery and Jameson’s characters/Jameson’s story felt off? It feels off for me, too, but I can't put my finger on it.

Hoo boy, where to start? This feels like peeling wet paper from wet paper. Also, sorry this took so long to make. I was constantly putting it off because I felt like I kept not knowing how to continue this review at times so I really hope this doesn't disappoint.

Spoiler Warning: The Brothers Hawthorne Discussion

Plot-wise, first off, it felt like we spent a lot of time with the set up to get to the Game and usually JLB spends a very minimal amount on that before we jump into the riddles, puzzle-solving, clue finding portion of the story as shown in the last three books. Then when we get to the actual portion of the plot which is dedicated to the Game itself, the running around Vantage feels like it was all so quick and you don't even get to take it in because we're already at another part with a new clue that by the time you feel settled in, the Game is done and Jameson is the winner. So, I think the concern with the story on that front is the fact that she wanted us to have an element from the old books that we're comfortable with so we can continue experiencing that thrill we're used to, just from Jameson's perspective because this suits him to a T. And she's right. This is the Hawthorne brother we've come to associate with all these high risks, high stakes, riddles, puzzles, complex games, etc., etc. It's just her approach didn't feel right; she spent more time on one thing than the other, the set up vs the climax as a result of said set up were disproportionate and this would probably be as a result of the dual pov. We never had a dual pov before in the series so where one story feels completed, the other didn't. Had Jamie's story been one whole book on its own, she likely could have made everything in the plot more evened out, especially the part we're anticipating most: the Game.

Also, from what I can see, Grayson's plotline does serve as the typical storyline we see in TIG, THL, and TFG in terms of set up and execution of actions after the build up. But it also must have been thought out better because there was pressure from the fans to redeem Grayson after the events of the last book. To be fair, JLB may have also planned it out that way in the first place. It's just disappointing to read through a book with the one brother I wanted to see in his best element because he fit this script the most having his storyline cut off seemingly abruptly. I know it's easier for her to come up with stuff for Grayson because he's still underdeveloped but she should have taken more care of Jameson since he is already developed. It causes inconsistency and on her part, looks like lazy writing and that she didn't even want to write his story. Most complex story she's written, my ass. If she wanted to just write Grayson's story then she could have done that, it would be believable enough that she just wanted to leave Jameson untouched because of the work she put into him rather than taking back all the good stuff we've seen come out of him by the end of TFG.

Now, with Jameson's character development, I think that the problem was the dilemma he was facing with his mind being "ordinary" compared to that of his brothers. I don't think I minded that part that much but when I review how he acted in the original trilogy versus how he was in this one, this problem kind of abruptly seems to show up, even with the flashbacks where this was demonstrated to be a topic of interest. Maybe JLB should have created some kind of set up for his character having this problem in the first books like she did with his lack of father figures issue which clearly makes him sensitive and his desperate need to win. These were things that had an origin and were portrayed appropriately in the book with a somewhat satisfying conclusion. This one just felt like it was there and the issue was quite quickly resolved so it kind of just makes itself appear as something that could have been easily ignored. He also falls short on sounding like a human being because she has made his mentality and personality so one dimensional and basic that a robot has more complexity than him. We get it, he's hungry for more almost all the time! But that's not all there is to him. And as a Jameson girlie, I feel like she made it so much harder for us fans of him as a character and the chosen love interest for Avery to give reasons as to why we liked him. I mean, back in 2022 and throughout 2023, I don't know how many little analyses and rants I came across that projected the goodness of his character. Now what am I supposed to justify? I was hoping we'd get that deserved deep dive to see what else drove him besides the obvious and what did we get? Just an endless loop of what we already know and have seen.

On the topic of Avery and Jameson as a couple in this book, uh, I think that JLB could have done a better representation of it from Jamie's perspective than the way she did in TBH. They had some pretty great moments like their problem-solving sequences, the getting ready scene before the opera, the little stuff like their hand symbols to signal to each other, Avery comforting Jameson, and Jameson confiding in her the secret of what happened in Prague. However, I found the way that JLB described Jameson's thoughts towards Avery a little too out of character. I get it, there's nothing wrong with him being physically attracted to his own girlfriend, that's definitely part of it but it felt too lusty and not the way he seemed to view her from what we saw in the last three books. I mean, even Avery wasn't quite so lusty towards him. The flirtatious components weren't what I was hoping to see especially after his many swoon-worthy moments from THL and TFG. Honestly, regarding my opinion on this, there's a recent post by @elif-in-wonderland that summarizes my thoughts for me perfectly.

There, that concludes my current thoughts on the book regarding Jameson's side. If I do end up having more opinions to share, I will be sure to make a continuation to this in a follow up post. Thanks for the ask!

#jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #averyjameson #the brothers hawthorne review #tbh spoilers #the inheritance games rant #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #tig #thl #tfg #tbh #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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lanelane04 · 2 years

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Third Piece of the Puzzle

I just wanna see a happy family with the reader, Hank and Connor so I impulsively wrote this up at like 1am and I have no idea where this is going. But let me know what you think! This will be a series but it depends on how well my commitment issues will take it.

TW: this does deal with depression and grieving, alcoholism (from Hank) and suicidal intentions. Most of the story takes place from the game itself but just as a warning, please read with caution if those are a trigger.

Word count: 2.1k

1 | 2

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Hank Anderson.

He used to be admirable, a role model to look up to. He was someone people would use as a good example of how to be a cop. He was intimidating at first, but after getting to know him? He was the person with the biggest heart out of anyone you knew. He had trained other members of the police force, watching them become good people of law enforcement and get assigned to new partners. He had the title of the youngest lieutenant in Detroit history for a reason. He earned that promotion.

But, after the unfortunate incident with his son, everything changed for the worse.

Who could blame him though? Getting into a horrific car accident on a cold winter day, waiting around for news while your son is having emergency surgery and only being told by the android, who performed the surgery, comes in with nothing but dreadful news.

He couldn't focus on anything else that damn android was saying. In his head, it was so clearly the androids' fault. It was the one who did the surgery, it was the one who couldn't save his son, it's all the robot's fault.

He became everything but a role model for beginner police officers. He started snapping easily, he started relying on alcohol to cope with his grief, his depression, and the spiralling, loud and intruding thoughts that rang in his head. He started rocking up to work after midday, he even skipped work a couple of times. He used to be this, he wasn't that, he never did this, you'll never hear the end of it and neither will he. He couldn't see a way out of the spiral but the alcohol makes things easier temporarily.

He's lucky enough that Captain Fowler won't fire him, even after countless threats for doing so. He's lucky enough to still have a job regardless.

This is where you come into the picture.

You were a detective, you were in the homicide division and very occasionally, you would get assigned a case dealing with deviant androids.

You were his partner. He helped you write reports and show you how they should be written properly. He trained you, he watched you move up the rank and become a detective. He even treated you out to dinner as a little congratulatory party. You were someone he was proud of.

He would get assigned cases with you often; him protecting you and vice versa. Putting oneself in risky situations which lead to arguments after the case.

"Did you even think about how you could've gotten yourself killed by doing that?!"

"They were about to shoot you and you think I'm going to stand back and watch that happen?!"

None of you would let the day end without making up though. Whatever argument happens between the two of you needs to be resolved before any of you go back home.

The two of you would grab lunch together on your breaks, you would hang out outside of work and just have a couple of drinks and talk about anything and everything. He also made sure that his intentions were nothing but friendly since he did not want you to take things the wrong way. Bitching about work, very certain people even, an incident that happened in one of your personal lives. He would occasionally invite you over to his place to play with his son and his lovable dog, Sumo. Sometimes he would even just invite you over to watch the game, only to be shushed by Cole whenever the two of you were being too loud.

He considered you one of his closest friends, family even.

He felt a little embarrassed to consider someone who was relatively younger than him as one of his closest friends, which earned a laugh out of you when he told you one night.

"Seriously, Hank? You're worrying over that?"

"Hey, I never said I was worried about it. I just find it a bit embarrassing being friends with a kid."

"Oh, come on! You're not that old, you're only... Double my age."

"You make me feel old."

But did he care about what others might think?

Never and that hasn't changed.

He started to decline your offers of going out for lunch runs. He wouldn't come up to your desk every morning and annoy you before starting his work. When the two of you went out drinking, it wasn't the same.

He would drink until he could barely walk while you would try and talk him out of the drinks. You would have to drive him home, force him to drink water, give mandatory pets to Sumo, and force him into bed.

Every time, right before you leave his bedroom, he would always call out to you and you would always reply.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave me."

"I'm always here for you, Hank."

Not matter how kind-hearted and understanding you can be of his situation, you need to look after yourself too. Doing this every single week for months on end? It's not healthy. He's becoming slightly dependent on you. It gets tiring looking after someone who's struggling, but if they're not doing anything to help themselves without relying on you, should you really be putting in all that time and effort in?

You can, but there's always a limit.

As much as you love Hank and his old man ways, you can't keep doing this. You're important too. You need to put yourself first.

So you started distancing yourself from him. It hurts doing so, but god was it painful for him to see you avoid him. Even the awkward small talk was unbearable. What happened to keeping things open between the two of you? You knew he would understand if you told him but would he take it well? Absolutely not. You were all he had after Cole's passing.

He knows it's his fault you haven't been doing well and he knows you're avoiding him for the sake of your well-being, he knows. Not only did he lose his son, but he had also managed to lose someone who was family to him, all because of him. It's another spiral he has fallen into.

Androids have become more and more popular. They're everywhere; running their owners' errands, working at any job and place you'll see, helping their owner with a task or simply keeping them company. They're only doing what they're told to do and what they're programmed for.

Captain Fowler had assigned him to be Hank's partner, even after knowing the hatred for androids the old man has. Connor had been assigned to cases involving deviant androids. As much as Fowler wanted him to start straight away, Hank didn't seem to come into work that day.

There was a lack of people in the station tonight, maybe the people on the night shift haven't started yet. The sound of faded pages flipping, chairs rolling and sluggish footsteps filled the room. He walked over to an officer and began his line of questioning.

"Excuse me, I hope I'm not disturbing you." You looked up at him, fatigue clear as ever on your face. You looked him up and down, taking in his presence before speaking. Why did they make an android look so handsome?

"Not at all, can I help you with something?"

"I was hoping you would know where Lieutenant Anderson is at this time." He saw your tired smile drop immediately. He thought of all the reasons as to why you suddenly seemed saddened by the name. What happened? Were you close? Did he do something to you?

"What's your business with him, if you don't mind me asking."

"Captain Fowler has assigned me to work with him as his partner. We will be working on cases involving deviant androids." His voice was monotone, with little to no emotion, no fluctuations in his tone, nothing like that. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting for your response.

"Hank isn't going to like the news of that. I can't believe he's on deviant androids as well..." You mumbled to yourself. "He should be at Jimmy's Bar, I can show you the way there if you'd like?" He nodded to your request, stepping back as he watched you turn off your terminal and grab your jacket. He could easily find the bar himself and he should've declined your offer, it would've been quicker to find him, alone. "What's your name? I don't think I ever got it."

"My name is Connor, I've been sent by CyberLife to assist DPD." You introduced yourself, telling him about which division you're in. You brought up the fact that you have been assigned several cases involving deviants, more as a sign for him to know that he can go to you if he's stuck.

Not like he'll ever need the help.

The walk to the bar wasn't awkward, if anything, you were enjoying the interaction with the android. Connor was interesting, he's unique. It felt good within you, finally having a conversation that wasn't work-related or Detective Reed annoying the living shit out of you. You have other officers that interacted with you, but none filled the gap of a true connection. You missed it.

You missed Hank.

"May I ask you a personal question, detective?"

"What's your relationship with Lieutenant Anderson?" He looked down at you, observing your reaction. "You seemed upset by me mentioning him earlier. Has something happened between the two of you?" Do you tell him? Have you told anyone about what happened? Have you been bottling this all up this entire time? Was it right for you to just start emotionally spilling everything to him, at this very moment?

"Of course, you can, Connor. You're free to ask me anything." You told him your name, offering him a small smile. The both of you waited at the zebra crossing, waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green. You know damn well Connor will be on your ass for jaywalking.

Wow, Hank was really your only friend at the station, how sad.

"We... We used to be close." You started hesitantly. How were you supposed to go on about this? Why is it taking so long for the light to go green? "I used to be his partner before I got my promotion. We still worked on cases together though, just not as much." The blaring noise of the pedestrian light going green interrupted. The two walked to the other side and continued their walk.

"I won't go into too much detail but... Something bad happened that turned Hank into the person he is today. I tried to help him but it was starting to have a bad impact on me when trying to look after him." You saw the neon sign of Jimmy's Bar come into view, making you stop in your tracks.

The feeling of anxiety rushed through you. You came here all the time. Was it because you knew that Hank was inside? When was the last time you talked to him? Or even made eye contact with him? You've spent so long avoiding him, even with occasional awkward small talk. When was the last time you sat down with him and had a chat about anything and everything? How long has it been?

"So I stopped talking to him, for my own sake. You can ask him about it but maybe after getting to know him a bit." The android stood in front of you and nodded. His circle LED showed an orange hue before going back to a calm blue. He had been listening intently to every word you spoke, making sure to not miss a single thing.

"I will head in and see if the lieutenant is inside. Thank you for showing me the way, have a good night." He gave you a nod before making his way towards the entrance of the bar.

"Wait, Connor." He felt the warmth of your hand grip around his wrist. He stared down at you, tilting his head in confusion. You looked like you were having an internal argument with yourself. The way you opened your mouth but nothing came out, the way you avoided making eye contact with him, the tight, trembling grip you had on his hand.

"Is something the matter?"

"Hank is a good person, Connor. He didn't use to be the person you're about to meet. Please trust me on that." Once again, his LED flickered an orange amber before returning to blue.

"I will keep that noted." When you finally looked up at him, relief shown on your face. You let go of his wrist but for some reason, he didn't want you to. He stared down at you, confused about the software instability notification popping up on his window. "I should get going now."

"Oh, of course! Sorry, Connor." And with that, you turned around and started making your way back to the station. Should he keep an eye on you until you got out of sight? It's late, anything could happen at this time of night. He's already stalled enough time on his current mission, he should be going now. He can't waste any more time.

Software Instability^

#detroit: become human #detroit rk800 #third piece of the puzzle #dbh #connor x reader #hank anderson dbh #hank anderson #connor x reader dbh #dbh connor x reader #dbh angst #my writing #rk800 x reader #connor rk800 #connor fanfiction #dbh connor scenario #dbh x reader #dbh x you #connor detroit become human #detroit become human x reader

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industria-adastra · 9 months

Text

[WMMAP] - Magnum Opus: Flipping through a child's eulogy (3/5)

Prev - Next

Summary: It’s strange, trying to get used to a new puzzle piece in her incomplete picture. But Jennette is kind, and with the waves of change alongside her. So Athanasia dares to hope.

But it is not to be.

Note: Sorry this took a while but admittedly this took a lot longer than I expected. Chapter 3 ended up getting split but this is where most of the build-up is for before the anvil really drops in this now 5-parter of LP timeline Athy's moral bankruptcy arc.

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After the disastrous event that was her debut—By the sun and stars of Obelia she had a sister —Athanasia found herself staring, empty-eyed, up at the ceiling. She had no real idea of how she even got herself back to her room, or how and why no one seemed to stop her. If only to bombard her with invasive questions about her as the nobles had done so earlier.

But then again, they were probably all occupied with Jennette, weren't they? A new princess, who looked far lovelier than the forgotten princess in blue. Jennette Margarita, a shining new piece on the chessboard of noble politics.

Athanasia rolls over to stare emptily at the overgrown greenery beyond the window. The glass is one of the only objects still sparkling clean compared to the rest of the dusty rooms in the palace.

Lily must’ve cleaned it earlier.

The garden, as beautiful as it was, was wild and overgrown. How many years had it been since someone took proper care of it? Her body curls within herself, drawing her eyes away.

A cold weight settles itself on her shoulder. Strokes her in a comforting manner with only the brush of freezing air to alert Athanasia to her mama’s movement.

A few minutes later, that cold hand is replaced by another much warmer one.

“I…heard about it. Your debut, that is. What happened during it was…” Lily trails off, unable to find a perfect word to encapsulate this entire situation.

And then, she shakes her head, her resolve strengthening. “But you should know, Princ—No, Athanasia —that no matter what happens, I’ll always be by your side.” Her hand moved to comb through her hair, delicate fingers picking out the hidden ties within her hair. “And you know why?”

Athanasia stays silent, merely turning her head to look up at Lily.

“Because I promised, remember? And you know that, if it’s you, Athanasia, I will always, always, keep my promises to you.”

(Diana takes the moment to let her emotions be known, an all-encompassing wave that cocoons Athanasia in its warmth. Smooth like silk and gentle to the touch, it was all too easy to understand.)

And if Athanasia’s eyes start to overflow with tears, and her body begins to shake, neither Lily nor Diana makes any comment about it. They simply stay beside her. A silent comfort.

With the sudden reveal of Jennette—a potential new heir—everything was thrown into chaos. Both nobles and commoners gossip and whisper, wondering about the royal family. Of changes in relationships and the succession of the royal family. Since Jennette Margarita was older, would whoever married her become emperor instead? (Groups of noble boys sigh in relief, because although they could not remember what Jennette looked like in detail, they remembered a girl who was so lovely and beautiful beyond comparison. Her image buzzed in their minds like a persistent fly.)

But, most said, wouldn’t you think it’s a terribly one-sided battle?

After all, how would the second princess, the daughter of a lowborn commoner and unknown to all, even compare to the lovely Margarita girl?

Rumours fly from the mouths of the members of the most exciting debutante of His Majesty’s age. About Jennette Margarita—now Jennette de Alger Obelia—they would say, sweet and kind and perhaps with a head sometimes up in the clouds, but ever so darling and dear, the new princess of theirs. About Athanasia de Alger Obelia, they’d sneer, gloomy and despondent, who would ever want her?

And so, and so, everyone waits with bated breath to see whether their speculations will be proven correct.

And they would be, time and time again, until one day they’d be pulled from the peak of their euphoria, down into the flames of hell and horror.

When they first meet, it is within the boundary of the Ruby Palace, in an overgrown field of grass and wildflowers and weeds.

Athanasia is practising her magic again, lying under the cooling shade of a large tree. Raven lies nearby, and her mother watches on with interest. The whispers and wailing in her ears have all but stopped after the trainwreck that was her debut, but still, Athanasia prefers the quiet open of this area. Better than the confining, decaying air of the Ruby Palace. Only Lily made it seem alive in there. But today she seems to be busier than usual, so Athanasia has quietly left her to her work.

Her black-blue mana weaves shapes in the air, dancing through the plants, giving energy to some, taking energy from others. It crackles and pops as it does so, staccato beats following a discordant rhythm.

Today is a fine day.

Until, of course, there’s a sudden intrusion in the form of her newly “discovered” older sister. Athanasia immediately stops any usage of magic, wary, but puts on a polite smile in greeting. A question blooms within both her and her mother’s minds as they wonder: What would Jennette Margarita be like in relative privacy?

Unknowingly, Jennette offers a rather positive answer to that.

“Hello! You’re Athanasia, right? I’m so glad I finally got to meet you!” Jennette beams at her, lowering herself to clasp Athanasia’s hands in her own. Athanasia, in turn, fights the urge to flinch away at the suddenness of her actions. She seemed…highly forward, and almost brash in her approach.

But, it wasn’t like this eagerness to know herself, know Athanasia as a person, from her new… sister wasn’t wanted. Athanasia wonders if she could get used to it. Get used to positive attention from a different member of her family (not from the one she truly desired it from).

Warmth blooms, just a little. But it’s there. Maybe she still could. Maybe she could.

Athanasia simply opts to listen, watching Jennette ramble on about her long-lived desire to meet her, watching her grow more and more nervous. Raven, now having surreptitiously moved over to her lap, watches Jennette carefully.

Jennette is an open person, speaking of endless details about herself, to the point where one would think she’d never learned the meaning of the word “discreet”. Athanasia learns about Jennette’s favourite flowers (daisies), her favourite colour (blue), her favourite pastimes, and her hopes and dreams for her newly reunited family.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell her that their father, whilst a good and just man, is not one to offset his work in order to spend time with his children. So she smiles, and answers every question Jennette goes on to ask her with polite, near-perfunctory answers.

Athanasia takes the time to take in Jennette’s features—the brief glances during her debut, marred by her despair, were not enough to form a good image of her within her mind. And Athanasia, as much as she tries, cannot fathom how this is her sister of another mother. Jennette’s hair is brown, a trait inherited from her mother, where generations of their family had been blond. The only thing she can find that even remotely reminds her of their father is Jennette’s jewel-blue eyes, and even then, they gleam with green when the sunlight passes over them.

Jennette’s features are, strangely enough, like a mirage. An aura of magic coats her skin; something lurks, trapped beneath her flesh, thick and sticky yet as flexible as water. It pulls at the light, softening her features and sharpening them at the same time, as if her creator still could not make up his mind on how he wished for her to look. Still, it always tries its best to make Jennette look as physically attractive as possible. Athanasia recognises this kind of magic, having entangled her hands within similar variations.

Black magic. Forbidden magic. Layers upon layers of it, as if it were the makeup of her sister’s existence.

Strange. Should she question Jennette about it? While she’s still chattering away at her? Athanasia mulls upon this decision, unconsciously starting to comb her fingers through Raven’s thick fur.

Unfortunately, it isn’t long before a maid calls for Jennette, pulling her away from the odd Second Princess with distrustful eyes. They do not trust her with her new sister. Evidently, they read too many melodramatic novels.

Now that Jennette has left, her mother comes closer, having observed the entire interaction. And Athanasia sees that her gaze is cold, as they watch Jennette move further away from the Ruby Palace.

She wonders where Jennette lives, if not in the Ruby Palace like her. (Whichever palace it was, it would be one more well-loved than hers)

“Could you feel it too, Mother?” She asks, staring at this icy version of her always-warm mother. “There’s so much magic woven within her, and it’s… different from how the mages of the Black Tower feel. I can barely even feel anything similar to my mana, the royal family’s mana, because most of it—” She pauses, and sees her mother tense, looking pointedly away. Athanasia pretends she doesn’t see it. “Most of it feels like… Black magic. Forbidden, cursed, magic.”

It takes a while for her mother to respond.

“The Penelope I knew—or rather, the emperor told me about—was never magically inclined. Ambitious and beautiful, but with barely an ounce of usable mana to become even a low-level mage.” Her mother still doesn’t look at her. Athanasia is unsure what to make of this strange non-answer.

“So, it’s artificial then? I assume it would be before birth, as otherwise, I believe she would not be quite so… her . But whyever would Father agree to such procedures? I didn’t think he’d be the kind of person to willingly subject his family to such danger. Even if Penelope Judith must’ve asked for it. Especially since our bloodline practically guarantees some degree of usable mana compared to others.” It’s a puzzling thought for Athanasia, an uncomfortable, squirmy sort of thought. Father, the holy Emperor of Obelia, someone who’d sink his hands up to his forearms in forbidden magic? Athanasia banishes that thought as quickly as possible.

Diana cannot bear to tell her daughter what the voices have told her, what her memories are telling her. That Penelope Judith had only lain with Claude’s brother. That Jennette was unlikely to be his daughter. That Claude knew this and yet was more welcoming to his own niece than a daughter he had with someone he had so desperately claimed to love. So she chooses her words carefully, measuring them within her mind before allowing them to fall from her lips.

“...I think, Athy, that—” Diana’s face is unsteady, a crack in the glass as she abruptly stops. “—that when it comes to people we love, we may not always know them as well as we think we do, because there are so many facets to a person.”

Vague, vague, vague. Her mother’s answer is vague and does little to calm her with its implications. But Athanasia doesn’t want to argue.

“I know.” That is all Athanasia says in reply, and that is all she leaves it to be.

(Hate was so easy to cultivate these days, when one’s emotions were connected to those of others.)

Such blissful ignorance is something she wants to keep her only child cradled safely within, if only so she would not be further hurt. She descends to wrap her arms around Athanasia, her only treasure, her most precious beloved child.

They sit in silence together for a little while longer. Yet, Athanasia notes, as she looks up at the darkening sky, it seems like a storm would come. And soon.

Jennette Margarita…no, Jennette de Alger Obelia is an enigma to her. An enigma through her very existence and how she is. How she treats everyone.

An older half-sister she’d never met, with a personality she’d never gotten accustomed to. She is a cheerful, sunny girl in contrast to Athanasia’s dark and gloomy disposition. Forceful in her own ways like a gentle force of nature. Athanasia doesn’t think she’s a particularly bright girl, not instinctively picking up on how and why the servants and guards react like so depending on which princess they’re encountering. Jennette didn’t seem particularly well-read either, having seemingly been kept within an isolated bubble for a large part of her years. A bubble that was tailored to how her previous guardians saw fit to design. A bubble that she accepted without much thought.

Athanasia had torn apart her own bubble a long, long time ago.

But Jennette is kind. At the very least, she treats her with the desire to become close. And perhaps, that is what draws Athanasia toward her, like a moth finding another source of light to hold onto. A little bit more affection to have and consume, another island in a sea of apathy. She isn’t sure if she’s being too greedy, coveting another pair of warm arms and a warm smile.

(Athanasia remembers a face as solid and cold as ice from years ago. With another member in the family, one that he clearly cared about—with the unceasing flow of new baubles and fabrics given to her—would he welcome her now? A girl who’d do her best to repay his love and attention with all her being?

She doesn’t know the answer until one fateful tea party.)

Meeting her father again for the first time in years is not as much of a happy affair as Athanasia thought it’d be.

For one, her tea sits cold on her plate, and Athanasia also finds that her appetite has long left her. There is no mention of any of her dedication to the country and her studies, nor her desire to be useful to him. No, her father simply ignores her in favour of Jennette. Watching her, though not with familiar warmth.

It’s an emotion entirely different from her mother’s, and something about it makes her feel cold. The awkward silence hangs like a sword on a thread, as Jennette nervously nibbles on her snacks. Not even her typically sunny demeanour can defrost the ice lingering in the air here.

At least Mother is here, gently squeezing her, just enough to feel her warm-cold presence. Athanasia wonders why she hasn’t shown herself to her husband, pushing away memories of derisive whispers about a low-born dancer with more grace in her pinky toe than in any of their entire beings. Her fingers fiddle with one another, now wishing she were in the royal library instead, studying to be better.

At last, Jennette takes the plunge to end the awkward atmosphere.

“F-father!” She practically shouts, “I-I’ve heard that Athanasia is quite good in her studies, so maybe there is something she could help you with?” Sweat lightly lines the side of her head, glistening. Her hands fumble about with the polished silver utensils.

The blatant plead for them to interact is so evident, that it would have been more subtle to plunge a sword into his gut. Athanasia barely keeps her muscles from reflexively cringing. But at the very same time, a bit of hope dared to bloom. Perhaps her father simply needed a little prompting.

And it seems like he did, because right after, he turns to her, the same look of apathy still on his face, but he is looking at her and Athanasia’s mind runs through hundreds of imaginary conversation starters.

“Is that so?” He says, deceptively light before his next words. “Athanasia…” Pausing, he appears to be contemplating something. “...so that was your name. And what an amusingly arrogant one it is. Who’s daughter were you, to have thought you’d be able to live up to such a name?” Cold like always, he fixes the full force of his icy gaze onto her, pinning her down like a butterfly specimen to be thoroughly examined. He eased himself into a languid position on his chair as best as possible, waiting, demanding her answer.

Her mother’s arms tighten imperceptibly, just as Athanasia feels a twang of disappointment at her father’s blatant forgetting of her beautiful, wonderful mother. It clashes with the rush of emotion that sears through her veins at having her father’s full attention on her (though not because of her).

Suddenly, a rush of noise fills her ears, phantom memories of blood and death coming back from long ago. It is vivid and hazy in her mind’s eye, overlapping multiple perspectives into one as she steadily gazes back at him.

Yet he is always covered in blood.

Athanasia tastes blood on her tongue, blood in her throat. Feels it on her hands, soaked into her dress. She blinks and it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

(Mother doesn’t seem very happy)

She tries to keep her voice even. “Diana of Siodonna, Father. I’ve… I’ve heard that she was a beautiful dancer.” Even so, her words are spoken haltingly, chosen carefully.

At that, she could see his eyes narrow in sudden hostility, something dark flashing across them. One of his hands moves to tightly grasp her chin, moving her face this way and that. The pressure hurt, felt as if it could fracture her delicate bones.

Yet his next words fracture her heart.

“Diana? I’ve never even heard of that name.”

He wishes (demands, really) for her to refer to him as “Your Majesty”. With that, the distance between them widens ever more. Was “Father” not respectful enough for him? But she acquiesces to his request (again, more of a demand). Because he is her father. Because she loves him (and all he stood for).

She loves him like a daughter to her father and a worshipper to her idol.

But Athanasia finds that it’s becoming harder to reconcile reality with her idealised images.

And yet, she clings to thin threads of hope anyway.

Diana feels the rage of the others within her boil and bubble, caustic and cutting, as she notices Athanasia being brushed off again and again by Claude. Something screams deep within her, louder and louder as it becomes increasingly clear that he remembers her not. She learns to hate from others, learns to hate through circumstance and with the help of the negativity entwining with her. It’s an addicting feeling that’s all too happy to grow as she watches Claude take their daughter for granted again and again.

Sometimes it feels as if their consciousness merges in and out. Although most of the other women hated her terribly in the end for being the favoured one of the emperor, they all could understand the feeling of being abandoned, being treated lesser by someone whom you adored. They could understand how love and like could curdle and sour into hate.

Diana had gambled on their love, on her judgement of his character…

And it turns out that she’s fumbled the roll all along.

Sometimes, Athanasia thinks she hates them both—her father and Jennette.

Her father for how he underestimates her, practically pretends she doesn’t exist, the easy affection he gives so freely to Jennette even as Athanasia strove to reach his heaven-high standards. Could he not see her desire to help him? Could he not see how much work she put into her studies, no matter how she tried to convey it to him—whether it be through pathetically desperate verbal questioning about his interest, or her showing off as best as she could her ideas on how to perhaps help her Empire prosper more.

Jennette, for how easily she gains her (their) father’s affection. She fails miserably at certain subjects, stays happily within her own enclosed bubble without a care for the outside world, and yet. And yet, and yet, and yet—

(Athanasia can’t really blame her, not really. Because Jennette is kind. Because her father has more important duties than an attention-starved teenage daughter. Because the fault is probably all her own. Good with books, terrible with people, better with ghosts. What a mess .)

He couldn’t even bother to spare her a single glance. What did she lack? What did she not have? What did she need, who did she need to be so he’d gaze at her like Jennette?

Why couldn’t they be together as one happy family?

(Why couldn’t he be the father she wanted him to be?)

She caresses a thorny rose, admiring its beauty, lightly gliding her skin on the thorns.

Not a second later, Athanasia pricks her skin on them.

It leaks blood, slowly, surely, before it clots.

She stares, watching. Wondering. Ruminating.

Ijekiel Alpheus. He is Jennette’s fiancé, and Athanasia listens for words that slip through the cracks. Jennette loves to talk about him. The girls at every tea party held in the palace love to gush about him, plying words of flattering praise on Jennette as thick as honey. It often feels over-excessive.

Perhaps they envy her.

(But who wouldn’t? With her perfect life and perfect personality, it is easy to love her and even easier to hate her.)

Ijekiel is Jennette’s childhood friend, their affection for one another having been fostered since day one. She wonders if he is the white-haired youth she saw on that day. He had worn his charm like a well-worn mask, gently guiding Jennette towards His Majesty. Beautiful and handsome, all soft edges and a princely demeanour.

He must be. House Alpheus is the only white-haired, gold-eyed noble family she knows of in Obelia.

Athanasia meets him on a summer day. A maid eagerly rushes to Jennette, telling her of her fiancé’s arrival. Her sister brightens with excitement and proceeds to drag Athanasia back to the palace to meet him.

Her mother has opted to stay and relax with Raven back in the Ruby Palace. Lately, Mother feels tired through the threads that connect them. Athanasia briefly hopes the rest will do her well, before allowing herself to be pulled in the rush of emotions Jennette visibly emits before they enter the doors of the Emerald Palace.

For some reason, Athanasia always thought the colour would suit Jennette well. Better green than blue.

(Better to be in any other family than—)

When they arrive, Ijekiel has his back to them. He’s been waiting. Clothed in white and gold, Athanasia cannot help but wonder if it is an intentional choice of House Alpheus. She supposes it lends a more ethereal quality to Ijekiel, whilst also being easy to match with their hair and eyes. It certainly looks more intricate and fine than her pale blue dress.

“Ijekiel!”

Jennette lets go of her hand to practically leap onto Ijekiel’s back, arms wrapping around him tightly as she beams. Athanasia opts to stand back, a couple of steps away, allowing space for the pair, waiting for him to turn to meet her.

The first thing she notices is that his eyes are like unpolished gold.

Yet as they finally lock eyes, jewel blue meeting dull gold, Jennette’s happy words “This is my fiance, Ijekiel…” fade into the background, and those eyes appear to sparkle as if wrapped in a Mesmer. He smiles gently and moves to place a kiss just above her hand. As he does so, his gaze feels like it’s attempting to see through her for what she is. It is a strange sparkle that has lit within his eyes.

“A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”

Something about him changes at that moment.

And it is all too strange that such a gaze would cause her to feel flushed below her clothes. Would cause her breath to hitch and a feeling of breathlessness to rush over her. Maybe she overworked herself this morning with the spells, growing flowers willy-nilly for both Lily and Mother. There’s nothing else that could explain this.

As always, Athanasia opts to ignore unwanted feelings.

(She cannot have him; a terrible choice for a first infatuation)

On a summer’s day, they meet again for the second time. This time, it was by complete accident. Whilst walking back to the Ruby Palace from one of the Imperial libraries, Athanasia finds herself nearly walking into Ijekiel. Thank goodness for Mother warning her just in time before they could collide.

Immediately, she reacts with a “My apologies, Lord Alpheus.” He bows in return. A beat of silence follows soon after, and as there is no reply, she continues with “Were you looking for Jennette? I believe she should be finished with her dance lessons soon…” Shifting her books to her left arm, Athanasia snaps open the pocket watch on her side. “...In about five to six minutes or so.”

“No worries, Your Highness. And, I’m not here for Jennette today. I simply felt like visiting one of the royal libraries.” Ijekiel replies, smiling. Then something appears to catch his eye, and following his gaze, Athanasia looks down to see her books. More specifically, a theorem that was published by Roitz a few years ago. Bound in dull brown and without much decoration, Athanasia wonders why it is this book that catches his attention specifically.

“Is that…?”

Athanasia is quick to reply with her own query. “Lord Alpheus, do you recognise this?”

“Yes, is that not Roitz’s book on the intricacies and differences between black magic and forbidden magic? I have read it before on a whim. However, there’s not much I can do with such information, seeing as I am not a mage. Although,” he looks back up into her eyes, “speaking of mages, I do not suppose it is much of a surprise that Your Highness reads such things.”

Her own blue eyes stray away from his intense gaze. “If I may, Lord Alpheus… I don’t believe that is quite true, mage or not, it is always good to know more. Especially with matters concerning magic. Knowing the differences could perhaps help one determine how best to solve problems concerning magic, or even identify signs that may appear with black magic usage. Sometimes, knowing can make all the difference in things. Please, do not presume that something is useless to you because you have yet to think of a use for it.” And somehow, without realising, her gaze shifts as she speaks, staring down at the sparkling gold of his irises.

It takes a while for him to speak, and Athanasia thinks he looks almost pleasantly surprised, were it not for the rapid change into his normal, genial smile that leaves her wondering if she’s hallucinating from years spent with the supernatural.

“...Yes, you’re right, of course.” Ijekiel’s head subtly shifts to look beyond the marble pillars of the hallway. “There are things I feel thankful for now, even if I grew to despise them in the past.” He’s looking back at her, and Athanasia feels as if Ijekiel isn’t exactly talking about books and knowledge. Unexpectedly, she feels herself flush, red hot on her cheeks. His gaze always feels all too intense whenever she’s caught in it.

At this, his smile seems to grow a little more genuine, before he leaves with a light bow and a, “If I may excuse myself, Your Highness.”

The faint scent of wildflowers follows him.

Athanasia thinks, staring at the place where he was, that it’s not the end of their meetings, mostly due to their respective statuses as future in-laws. Although as she looks at her Mother’s amused gaze, Athanasia hopes that by the next meeting, she could at least stop feeling so strangely flustered every time she meets Ijekiel.

Her mother shows her little reprieve after that encounter. As it turns out, Athanasia appears to have found a new muse to draw. Sitting beneath the old tree with Raven and her mother once more, Athanasia allows her mind to wander in content silence. Thus she pays little attention to the wildflowers unfurling next to her, nor the fact that Ijekiel’s features are starting to form upon the paper.

Unfortunately for her, Diana—her mother—is a rather keen-eyed woman. And thus, her sparkling pink eyes zero onto the familiar handsome sketched features with a speed rivalling the Arlantan hawks. As she does so, her lips softly curl into a teasing grin at her new discovery.

“My, my, Athy, who’s this?” Leaning in, Diana peers at her daughter with that very grin, as Athanasai practically leapt out of her skin. Raven, deciding he’d rather be an observer rather than a participant, takes this time to move over to a warm patch in the field.

“Ma‒a! You nearly gave me a heart attack! Couldn’t you have warned me somehow before you decided to comment on my artwork?” Athanasia exasperatedly said, slowly calming down her racing heart.

“Weell, my darling daughter,” Diana begins to say, pinching at one of Athanasia’s cheeks, “I’m simply ever so curious as to this mysterious handsome individual you’ve started to draw. Who, by the way, looks ever so similar to one heir to House Alpheus.” Her cheshire grin grows ever wider as Athanasia slowly realises the implication, relishing the deep lobster red suffusing her pale complexion.

“That’s a coincidence,” she explains tartly, wishing the ground would swallow her up whole, were it not that the lack of air would kill her. “Besides, it’s not a crush or anything of the sort that you’re implying, Mama.” Athanasia spits out the word ‘crush’ as if it were something diseased.

“I never said it was a crush.”

“That—! Well, you most certainly implied that I have a crush on Ijekiel!”

“Did I? I only wished to know who you were drawing, Athy,” Diana replies, looking like the cat who got both the cream and the canary. “But now that you mention it… Do you have a crush on him, Athy?”

“I do not have a crush.” Athanasia pouts, crossing her arms, “And Mother, you should remember that this is Jennette’s fiancé we are discussing. Any feeling of the amorous kind should not, and will not, exist.” Her voice is hard at that reminder. However, who was truly being reminded here?

At that, Diana’s expression softens into a sympathetic look.

“Oh Athy, it’s perfectly alright and normal for you to get a crush at this age.” Diana places a comforting hand on Athanasia’s hunched shoulders, coaxing her daughter to look at her. “I know you care very much about Jennette, but you’re not betraying her or anything like that by getting a crush on her fiancé. Besides, you’re not acting on those feelings, and that’s all that really matters, Athy.” Her fingers gently comb through her daughter’s golden tresses.

It’s a nice, normal thing for her daughter to get a crush.

She thinks, sadly, that Claude would have been a rather endearingly protective father.

Athanasia thinks they run into each other quite a lot, enough that she can no longer truly call it a continuing series of accidental encounters. It’s one too many times with too short breaks in between for her to call it such. At some point, she’s starting to wonder if “accidental” is intentional. But with both her desire to ignore most thoughts about fair-haired, handsome Ijekiel and to prove to her mother that this was most certainly not some crush on her sister’s betrothed, Athanasia kicks such thoughts into the abyss of her subconscious.

So obviously, the next time she carries a thick romance novel out of the library to read in the comfort of her room, Athanasia has to be nearly bowled over by Ijekiel as she rounds the corner back to the Ruby Palace.

She stumbles back in shock the moment they collide, thankfully managing not to trip over her feet. Ijekiel appears to be completely unphased, the only sign of collision being his slightly shifted clothing. Athanasia envies that calmness—just a bit.

Just seconds after their collision, Ijekiel smiles, moving to lightly bow towards her, his right hand clasped over his breast.

“Your Highness, what a happy coincidence.” As he straightens up, Ijekiel’s eyes roam over the book Athanasia is perhaps not-so-subtly trying to obscure. “May I presume you were coming back from the library?”

“Y— Yes, Lord Alpheus. I was. And may I presume in return that you were on the way to meet Jennette? May I recommend that the next time you come visit her, you start from the left, instead of the right? It takes a longer time to get to the Emerald Palace if you go this way, Lord Alpheus.” Her fingers curl tighter around her novel, desperate to not let Ijekiel see the embossed blurb, lest he guesses the contents of it. (He need not know just how passionately the main couple express their feelings for each other, and he most definitely need not know in what specific manner they normally do so)

Suddenly, it feels as if they are far too close for comfort.

(She can’t quite understand why she’s unwilling to let him know about this, wanting to keep the image of a refined, scholarly princess in his eyes)

He takes a step closer, and for a scant second, Athanasia’s breath catches in her throat. It’s still a perfectly acceptable distance, she mentally reassures herself. It’d do her no good to have her mind so scrambled by such a little thing as the decreased distance from her future in-law.

(Her very handsome, future brother-in-law, her mind supplies in a rather unhelpful fashion. Athanasia wonders if there was a spell to get your mind to shut up when it made unnecessary comments about other people.)

Smiling, Ijekiel makes the world stand still with just a few words.

“Actually, Your Highness, I was looking for you.”

“What?” It’s only by the grace of all those years spent holding back that allows Athanasia at least a semi-dignified response to his reply. She blinks and very nearly stutters on her next words. “You… You were looking for me?”

Suddenly he’s far, far too close, and Athanasia nearly leaps out of her skin with surprise, blooming red on her cheeks. Her arms loosen their death grip on her novel, allowing Ijekiel a clear view of her guilty pleasure. So unfortunately for Athanasia, within those few seconds of embarrassment for her, Ijekiel quickly sees what she’s not so subtly attempting to hide from him.

“Oh? That…” He smiles gently like always. But this time, there is a musical lilt to his tone, a subtle quirk to his lips.

Much like a cat who caught the canary.

Athanasia does her very best to ignore both that damnable smile and the airy weight of her mother’s arms settling comfortably around her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Lord Alpheus?” She knows her tone is just a tinge too sharp, too snappy in its execution. Athanasia stoutly refuses to believe such reactions could be, in any way, related to her feelings towards the Alpheus heir. Just like how, right now, she is stoutly ignoring her dearly beloved mother’s giggles.

Underlying those words is a challenge to him; daring him to say even a single unneeded and unwanted comment about her choice of literature. Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares up at him. Curse his older age and thus his taller height. It is much, much harder to channel an ice statue when one is forced to a lower vantage point.

“Oh, nothing, really.” Or so Ijekiel says, even when the corners of his mouth curve none too subtly, right in front of her. “It’s just…”

And really, some form of luck must be on his side today. Because at that very moment, a gust of wind has the audacity to simply blow past right behind her, allowing Ijekiel the perfect opportunity to further invade her space. Which he does, leaning in to gently tuck away locks of hair from her ear, giving unrestricted access for him to whisper, ever so softly…

“You enjoy such a charming spread of genres, Your Highness,” his breath tickles her ear, and Athanasia hopes to all the holy powers that be that Ijekiel won’t see the brick red she’s surely become. “I myself am also rather fond of reading. So perhaps you’d be able to give me a good recommendation that we might both enjoy together?” At that, Ijekiel leans back, and his golden gaze fixed on her face, waiting for her reply.

“I—” Athanasia’s first attempt at a response falls flat, leading to seconds of hanging silence before her mind formulates a proper answer. “I would be willing to compile a list for you.” Athanasia pauses, before hastily adding, “ And Jenette.”

“Right.” Gone is the light tone previously in Ijekiel’s voice. Jenette’s name is a clear reminder to both of them.

Again, a silence casts its shadow over the two. But there was a reason why Ijekiel was so beloved by the upper crust’s women. A reason why Jenette was so clearly smitten with him.

“Perhaps we could read the book you have now together, Your Highness? Just to help you gain an early start in compiling that list, of course.”

Athanasia hopes to high heaven that this wasn’t the reason why he was so liked.

“Absolutely not!” Athanasia’s face is red with embarrassment, heat practically radiating off her cheeks. There was no way she was going to let Ijekiel Alpheus of all people know that the studious Second Princess of Obelia liked steamy romance novels. (Even if it was highly likely he already knew what exactly she was holding in her arms)

It’s clear that her sudden outburst of honesty surprises and amuses the Alpheus heir. Frankly, he isn’t doing much to conceal the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, nor the tug at his lips. At that, Athanasia’s lips twitch in displeasure. Why on earth she’d been so fascinated with him lately must’ve been due to the amount of work she’d been giving herself recently. (That was not to say she didn’t notice how that twinkle made the gold in his eyes shine like stars, enthralling in the way beauty always was)

“My, Your Highness, I’m surprised that someone with your work ethic would be so quick to turn down an offer to increase task efficiency.” He teases her, knowing full well why there was no way she would read this book with him.

Athanasia returns his tease with frosty politeness, hoping he’ll drop the matter and leave her alone to read in the sanctity of her room in peace. “I’m simply worried it would detract from time you should spend with Jennette, Lord Alpheus. Moreover, as both a girl and her sister, I’m quite sure a perfect list will still be made with only my input.”

(Her mother is no help at all, only watching and offering not a single piece of advice)

“Ah, but perhaps you have forgotten, Your Highness, that I have taken care of Jennette in the past. Would it not be more helpful to have my input to supplement yours?”

“That…”

“...Is it because of my presence?”

“No.” The blurted answer is quick enough that it shocks both of them. It’s honesty towards a question that should never be asked. Despite this, Athanasia continues to blush, eyes only pretending to look straight at Ijekiel. “...I simply think that you would not be interested in such reading material.” She later tacks on lamely.

But for some reason, it’s enough to gain a wondrous smile from him—In fact, Athanasia suspects he might just be beaming. Her heart beats uncomfortably in her chest.

“I see,” is all he says at first. “But Your Highness, I trust that whatever you read has its own value, whether it be for one purpose or another.” With that, he bows, ready to take his leave. “If you are not ready to show me such literature, I’ll at least help with the list for Jenette. So if I may, Your Highness, I’ll get on to that promptly.” Up he rises, and Athanasia can’t help but stare at his now retreating back.

What an immensely forward thing to say.

All of a sudden, not even ten paces away from her, Ijekiel stills. As he speaks, he does not face her. “And, just one more matter, Your Highness. If it’s not too presumptuous… Might I say that red is a lovely colour on you?”

But for Athanasia, it’s much more preferred this way. After all, who knows what expression he had whilst saying so? Nor did she desire for him to see that lovely colour on her again.

“Your Highness, I’ve recently read through Galera’s thesis on the nature of time. May we discuss it together?”

Ijekiel had almost certainly planned on this, seeing as there was no one near them for perhaps miles around, and also for the fact that they were conversing in a clearly abandoned garden that no one in their right mind would enter.

It’s no matter if she’s caught off guard, as Athanasia has long since gotten used to reacting to unexpected variables on the spot. “Lord Alpheus, you must understand that I have yet to read that particular article. Furthermore, I do firmly believe that you would have a much more enlightening conversation with someone from the Black Tower.”

However, the sound of her mother snickering from behind is very much not helpful.

“But Your Highness, I find that I would much prefer conversing with you. You’ve shown to be capable of viewing a wide range of perspectives that I feel are quite uncommon.” At that, Athanasia involuntarily flushes, remembering their previous meeting. “It’s no matter if you haven’t read it yet, as I’ve also brought it with me. How about we go over it together?”

“I…” There is an expectant, honest wish in his eyes, and Athanasia can’t help but look away.

Her mother gently caresses her from behind, giving a silent nudge to accept his offer. “You’ll be family soon,” she whispers in her ear. “It’ll be good to get along when it happens… And above all else, Athy… It’s alright to savour moments of fleeting happiness.”

Fleeting. Right.

This time, she meets his eyes.

“I don’t suppose you have anything for the next few hours?”

And his smile is as dazzling as the sun.

Jerk, was, perhaps, not a word Athanasia thought she’d ever use to refer to Ijekiel. But sometimes it feels as if he’s purposefully trying to ruffle her feathers. There is simply something about the way this— this young lord reacts to her polished politeness, the way he engages with her, the way he pokes and prods (in a manner he possibly believes is subtle but is truly more like a slap to her face).

(For goodness sake, she’s not some beloved romance novel protagonist)

It is hard to do so when the Alpheus heir keeps on challenging her like so.

(And they dance around and around, three steps forward and two steps back)

By their fourth and later meetings, Athanasia finds that many conversations with Ijekiel often slip into a subtle battle of knowledge, wisdom and wit between them. They talk around each other in circles, debating and discussing. They prod each other for opinions as politely and bluntly as can be (it was likely Ijekiel took at least some pleasure in watching her flounder—he’d already admitted it before). Sometimes though, it feels as if they’re speaking two entirely different conversations to each other. The only clue Athanasia has as to what Ijekiel does not say is exactly that: what he does not tell her explicitly.

More often than not, Jennette cannot get much of a foot within the proverbial door of their rapid-fire conversations. More often than not, Athanasia has to remember to pull back, to introduce topics that Jennette can give her opinion on. And she feels guilty, looking at how nervous Jennette is at giving opinions on things she can barely understand. Because Jennette’s fiancé is the only person remotely near her age that she could interact with on such a level, the only person around willing and able to interact with on such an academic level, Athanasia clings to him—to that connection to another being who might truly enjoy her company—through such conversations. She wills herself to ignore their countless other conversations that don’t involve an exchange of knowledge; pushes away the way he teaches her to dance in a pair; shuts out the times they sit together in comfortable silence, Raven as their feet and her mother humming by her side.

(Because for all she reads, all she understands and absorbs, her father hates the sound of her voice, hates the audible reminders of her existence. What Athanasia learns from those numerous, painfully awkward tea times is that Jennette is persistent in making them get along, and their father is persistent in pretending she does not exist—knowledge does not matter if no one wishes to appreciate it. The unread and discarded proposals Athanasia sends to him via a third party time and time again only serve to hammer in this unwanted truth.

And Ijekiel wanted more than her knowledge. Was it truly a wonder that she’d wish to stay with just him, if only for a few seconds more?)

She should not.

(Ijekiel is her sister’s beloved fiancé. Jennette is her beloved older sister, and she is the apple of their father’s eye.)

She does anyway.

As another prompting question about Archimedes V comes from Ijekiel yet again, Athanasia cannot help herself, allowing her to be swept away by the currents to another place—perhaps the edge of a waterfall.

(She’s not acting on her feelings if she’s answering his questions and thus engaging with, and subsequently bonding with her future brother-in-law… Right?

It’s not a question Athanasia truly wishes to answer.)

The next few years go by like the clouds drifting across the skies, and she and Ijekiel only become closer. Her mother gives no protest to any of it, even telling her that it is “only a small bit of happiness, which wouldn’t hurt”. Within her embrace, cocooned in her warmth, Athanasia can find no argument against such a sentiment.

One day—a day she will consider a very long time ago—under the gentle shade of a tree, surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, Ijekiel confesses a secret to her and her alone.

“Did you know, Princess, that when we truly first met, I thought you to be an angel?” Ijekiel smiles, looking up at the unclouded sky, away from her and her seeking eyes. “You should know that you’re very beautiful, Princess. It was almost inhumanely so, to me… Until I got to know you better, of course.” He chuckles, as if remembering a particularly humorous memory. “You became less like an angel—less of an idea in my head—and more like my friend, Athanasia. And yet, knowing you as you are now, I find myself preferring this tangible version of you, rather than the shallow idea I had before.”

It feels as if it’s something she shouldn’t have known. Something that shouldn’t be said. And yet, she made no move to interrupt him at all.

Ijekiel looks back at her now. As the sun’s rays bounce off his white hair, Athanasia privately thinks that, between the both of them, she is not the one with the angelic beauty. She watches, entranced, as his hand nears her own.

His first touch is warm.

Slowly, he brings her hand to his lips, his golden eyes gazing at her behind lowered lashes as he does so. And just as Athanasia thinks he will kiss the air above her hand in greeting (but what for, she dares not continue that line of thought), he gently turns her hand to expose the insides of her pale wrists.

“Athanasia… I’m truly glad you were born.”

And so there is where his lips ever so lightly press, a butterfly-like kiss.

It’s a golden memory that Athanasia would take to her grave. Even if she immediately yanks her hand away, watching as the sun’s rays disappear. Watching the understanding dawn upon his face.

(Ah, she’s already flown too close to the sun)

Not too long after that incident, Ijekiel gifts her a blue songbird—a bluebird, to be more specific.

“Consider it a symbol of our friendship,” he says. Nothing about his expressions betrays anything, save for the way he doesn’t meet her eyes, the way his smile is so picturesque. But their roles have been set, their paths already paved, and there’s no other direction but forward.

So Athanasia gives a fairytale-like smile in return, and focuses only on the merits of his gift.

It’s a pretty bluebird, and she’s sure Raven will love it too. Her mother is already cooing in her ear about how cute it is, and how generous it is for Ijekiel to give such a gift. Athanasia never told her what happened on that sunny day. And she never will.

“He must treasure your friendship very much, Athy. And, oh my, don’t you think the bluebird looks a little like him? Maybe it’ll stop you from sulking every time you can’t immediately discuss a book with him.”

Athanasia ignores her comments in favour of concentrating on Ijekiel.

“Thank you,” she says in turn, smiling, “I’ll take good care of…”

“It’s a boy.”

“Him. I’ll take good care of him.”

They both watch the little bluebird hop around, gazing at its new surroundings with curiosity.

“Do you already have a name for him?”

“Not really, I was thinking that it’d be better to give you the honour of doing so,” Ijekiel replies, before cheekily adding, “Even with your dubious naming skills.”

Athanasia’s cheeks colour, before she hastily gets out, “My naming skills are not dubious. The names I give are perfectly suited and reasonable.”

“Hahaha, alright alright, I concede—what are you going to name him then?”

“Well,” and at that, Athanasia places her hands firmly on her hips, “I was thinking of Bluey. It’s a name that suits his colouration, and it’s also a very cute name.”

“Alright, Bluey it is then.”

“Hey, what kind of answer was that?” But they’re both grinning, and they both know that Ijekiel won’t legitimately protest against the name, no matter how much of an “opinion” he has about her naming skills.

Athanasia hopes that he’ll treasure this memory as much as she does, forevermore.

On a day like any other, Athanasia opens the doors to her room to find her beloved Bluey dead in his cage. His feathers lie scattered in a bloody mess, and it’s clear that this was someone’s handiwork. Even so, it doesn’t feel real. Any moment now, Bluey will hop around and chirp and sing, delighted to see her again.

Athanasia cradles him with shaking hands, making no move to stop Raven from sniffing around the crime scene. There's a gasp from behind. Mother?

“Oh, Athy…” When a warm, heavy weight meets her shoulder, Athanasia knows that it's someone else.

Lily.

“How could anyone do this?” She laments, voicing out unsaid thoughts. “This isn't right. I must go see the Emperor. He should do something about this.” At that, Lily rises to storm out the door, only to be caught by the skirts with a single hand.

“No.” Athanasia’s tone is firm, resolute. “He won't— He doesn't need to be bothered by such small issues.” The words are like razors in her mouth. “I’ll solve this issue myself.”

“But Athy—”

“No.” A princess’ words are final. “But,” and here is where her voice softens, weakens, “could you stay by my side tonight?”

“Of course.” Lily’s hands are gentle on her hair, but still, Athanasia can't bring herself to look at her. “You didn't even need to ask. I’ve promised you before that I’ll always be by your side, Athy.”

At night, soothed to sleep by her nanny’s lullaby, and her mother's smell of roses, Athanasia dreams. She dreams of the flowers she’d made, dreams of how vegetation would translate to flesh, blood and bone. She dreams of sinew, muscle and thread. She dreams of a pulsating heart in her hands, too big to be useful for now, but that is what magic is for—to make the impossible become possible.

She dreams of her mother, unconditionally forgiving.

( Everything will be alright, Athy. You don't have to do it alone. Just leave it to Mama, ok? )

She dreams of a world, where all wrongs are made right.

When she wakes, it’s as if she’s been possessed. With a firm stride, she moves to crack open the book that started it all. With a loud thump, it lies open on a new number, page one-thousand-twenty. It’s a page Athanasia has never seen before. But written across its pages is exactly the guidance she needs. Her fingers run through the crimson-streaked pages, feeling the bone-like indents of the letters. Perhaps it’s simply her imagination, but Athanasia likes to think that, at that moment, she’d also felt a pulse.

The smell of decay hangs in the air. Against Lily’s protests, she’d placed Bluey back into his cage instead of disturbing him any further.

If she could conjure new life, then surely, Athanasia could also bring back the old? Her eyes scan the procedures, the needed ingredients to channel intent out of precaution. A nail drags across the paper, and she mentally takes note of every single detail.

“Did you find something interesting, Athy?” Her mother’s arms curl around her neck, heavy as a noose.

“Yes.” She replies, turning to gaze at her slumbering bluebird. “I think I’ll need some thread, Mama.”

Perhaps it’s a trick of her mind, but Athanasia feels as if there are fewer staff members in the Ruby Palace, as barebones are the structure of the staff here already. But since she relies mostly on herself and Lily, Athanasia doesn’t pay too much mind to it.

There are other more important matters to turn to, such as Bluey’s recovery. He still needs the stitches, or else he’d fall back asleep within a blink of an eye.

She strokes his soft feathery head, before the crash of breaking plates forces her attention elsewhere. Her hand stills. A lone maid stares at them, eyes wide, mouth slack. Honestly, it’s a confusing reaction to have. Furthermore, didn’t she know that such loud noises could disturb Bluey’s recovery?

“Hey,” the informality tastes foreign, but welcome. “Come here.”

The impertinent maid doesn’t move.

“Come here. That’s an order.”

Hesitant, and awkward. Her etiquette lessons come to mind—a princess should not have to speak the same order twice. The chair screeches from the force of her pushing back, and in one, two, three and four strides, she’s caught that shaking arm and dragged the maid into her room.

The doors shut and lock with a finality.

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slugdragoon · 3 months

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Devlog #8 - Druid enemy, Skeleton summon, Spike trap + loose ends

youtube

Back to devlogs! Last week I posted some really long pixel art animation videos instead, but I'm back to working on my game itself more this week!

Finished an animation for a summonable Skeleton (check out my animation walkthrough PART 1, PART 2)

Necromancer now summons the Skeleton - this makes the Fear status effect more functional, as it did work before - made minions flee battle, but now we have something that can actually incluct the status effect (Skeletons)

Completed an animation for the Druid - a new enemy type and recruitable party member - currently just coded in as a copy of another enemy as a placeholder, but they're in the game, and one idea I have for them is to have an ability that summons multiple animal summons at once - though I need another good one or two besides the Sheep and Snake

Spike trap hazard for dungeon floors - hurts you and have a firing and retraction animation - might put some of them on a switch, maybe make a puzzle with them or something

new ability, Cleave - hits all enemies, one-by-one. Eventually once I work out how the mechanic works for applying armour to battle entities, Cleave will have a downside of losing time off the battle clock when you catch an armoured enemy in your Cleave, but for now it simply attacks multiple enemies

Added a simple door transition for loading a new area, still needs to be refined

Upgraded my audio/video setup for further devlogs, actually put some passable settings in OBS for my mic, and I got Davinci Resolve because I was sick of iMovie - so much better!

Ko-Fi (commission some animations, maybe?)

#slugdragoondevlog #slugdragoongame #gamedev #solodev #indiedev #rpg #drpg #game development #indiegamedev #indie games #youtube #pixel art #Youtube

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mosthuggableffxiv · 1 year

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As Promised: The Ardbert Essay

(specifically the one that didn't come from a wiki)

Full text below

Alright, fine, 8 paragraphs? Honestly, I should've seen this coming. But here's the thing, mod. My original Ardbert submission was just his Wikipedia article copied and pasted. I mean, what more could I say? His story and pain speaks for itself, and for that reason, I thought there was no better propaganda for Ardbert than who he is. But I see that is not enough, and so, I am responding with a fully fleshed out essay of at least 10 paragraphs.I hope it goes to show the lengths to which I, @teridani, believe that Ardbert Hylfyst needs a hug. (Or, depending on your interpretation, "is the most huggable". More on that later.)

When Ardbert first appeared in patch 3.1, it was a mysterious hook meant to drawn us players in. Who is this guy? Why is he speaking with the Ascians? The Warriors of Darkness appear as a threat. When Ardbert first introduces his group, dear mods, I laughed. I was playing through the game with a friend and I found it hilarious that they would be called "warriors of darkness". It's not really any sillier than "warriors of light", but the idea that our enemies, our RIVALS, would just use that name was... so silly. I did like their style, though.

I was a bit frustrated at the return of the Ascians once again. You must remember, dear mods, that I was playing through the entirely of ARR just recently! I was binging the story! And the early Ascian characterization left a lot to be desired. So, here I was, believing Ardbert and his crew were nothing more than Sunday cartoon villians-of-the-week, here to end the world just because. This initial reaction is important for you to understand how big of a switch first impressions were to where I'm at now.

Ardbert himself seemed to relish in this role early-on. He fell into the role of a villain easily, casting aside any doubts towards his goal. He had to. Look what being a hero had brought him and his friends. Still, a degree of hesitation persisted. Ardbert didn't really want to hurt anyone. He never did. He says himself, "We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light." His feelings towards being a hero, I believe, mirror his feelings towards being a villain. Swept up in the tides of fate and tragedy, there were no other paths left for him.

Urianger was the one who brought up the idea of luring out the Warrior of Light, casting the realm into chaos with their death. Of course we have the blessing of hindsight to understand that Urianger never wanted them to come to harm, but Ardbert steeled his resolve and set forth. All he said was that he would make it quick. A mercy in its own right. There is no way Ardbert didn't see a reflection of himself in the WoL, an echo of the same unsundured soul. Through his eyes, eventually any hero who espouses the virtues of *one* element, be it Light or Dark, would doom their world. It seemed a choice between two paths with the same end: doom the Source now, or later. The only difference is how many he could save by doing the former.

Over the course of the finale to his Heavensward arc, Ardbert reveals the missing pieces to the puzzle to us. How he and his friends took their lives just to have a chance at saving their world. As heroes to their world to the very last, they participated in the ultimate sacrifice. I believe I do not need to remind readers of this line. "We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this!" How could you not want to give this man a hug? When you think of the pain, regret, grief, and anger he must be feeling? When you see the blind unfairness of the world rest entirely upon him?

In the end, the most heartbreaking thing was when the Warriors of Darkness placed their trust in Minfilia and Ardbert simply asked if she could take them home. They had failed, it was all up to someone else, and at the very end without any other choice... They chose to go back to their home that they destroyed. If only Ardbert could've passed on with his friends, at the very time, perhaps he would have felt some degree of finality. Some measure of redemption. But instead, they were gone along with Minfilia, and he was left for a hundred years alone.

Whether he whispered or screamed, not a soul could hear his voice. His body and mind were barely held together by the time the WoL came to the First. Devoid of hope, he still followed the WoL and watched as piece by piece, sky by sky, night returned to the Norvrandt that he alone beared as his mistake. Ardbert was denied, again and again, any chance of redemption. The only person who could bring hope and joy back to him was the WoL. Of course he was more than willing to sacrifice himself once again at the end of it all—for such a person, he would be willing to do that and more.

I also promised to speak more on his huggability, so I will do so here. First, we look at his height. As an average height Hume, Ardbert comes in around 5ft 9in, or 175cm. I can't attached a picture here, I don't think, but if you find a height comparison tracker and input the 50% height data of each race, I believe it will be of use to you. I used the Male 50% sliders because I'm nonbinary and I get to make the rules here. Au'Ra: Ardbert comes up to shoulder height, a perfect height to rest his head upon your clavicle and wrap his arms around your waist. Roegadyn: Oh baby! How couldn't you hug him? Ardbert comes up to a Roegadyn's tit- I mean chest. There's a reaction image somewhere on the internet about this very thing. I'll leave it up to you to find. Miqo'te: At 5ft 5, Ardbert is slightly taller than the average Miqo'te, and you can rest your head extremely easily on his shoulders. As he wears traditionally Warrior attire, this means nice, high quality leathers and soft furs. Of course, he'd take off his shoulder pauldrons for you. Elezen: The average Elezen can rest their chin perfectly atop his head. I believe that says all I need to say. Viera: A Viera is slightly taller than Ardbert, and but not overtly so. At this height, neither person would have to bend or stretch too far: they would fit like puzzle pieces. Lalafell: For this, not only will I note that a Lalafell could be completely wrapped up in Ardbert's arms, but I ask you to remember one of the other best characters of Shadowbringers. Lamitt wouldn't fall for ANY person who wasn't extremely huggable. Her endorsement says it all. Hrothgar: A Hrothgar and Au'ra are only 2 inches apart, but ther's something more I would like to note. Ardbert has both scruffy hair and facial hair! Like whiskers and fur of his own, he would be a perfect nuzzling companion.

So! For the true hero of the First, for one who gave us the push we needed at the end, who has suffered more than any person should ever have to, I believe we owe it to Ardbert to give him a hug. And also, we owe it to ourselves to hug him, regardless of our height, because as proven time and time again in the story... Ardbert loves you. Thank you for reading.

#ffxiv huggability #final fantasy xiv #ardbert #ardbert hylfyst #warrior of darkness #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers

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eccentric-nucleus · 9 months

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so when my intro post (this one, about hpmor and power fantasies and weird porn) was going around somebody reblogged it w/ commentary about mother of learning & how it did actually have a story framework that depended on like, character growth, themes, etc, and didn't necessarily deserve to be thrown into the progression fantasy bin & i've been thinking about why i disagree with that

part of it is just... the pacing is still pure progression fantasy? like the character wakes up one day in a puzzle box and the entire world is structured so that he has no choice but to investigate & that necessarily involves getting better at things. the world is a perfect training chamber for Leveling Up. it's the same framework as living in the sexy porn universe where the natural resolution to anything happening is to have sex. sure sure there's an in-world justification for everything that happens, but the true why for why things are happening is that the author wanted some sex scenes. oh no the narrative is bending around the gravitational pull of leveling up

(i have read, uh, 'to the stars' which is another one of those extremely long serial fanfics that i guess could be placed somewhere adjacent to the progression fantasy genre (the main character does get 'more powerful' and iirc also has a 'cheat ability' in some sense, for some very broad genre trope identifications) but it never really felt like that while reading it b/c there's never really any point in the entire story where there's a problem that the obvious solution that's immediately presented is "oh just get stronger". so "character gets more competent at using their skills" can fit in more naturally with the other narrative beats instead of being the primary narrative beat repeated over and over and over again)

or for more reputable fiction comparisons, like, a wizard of earthsea has ged getting more powerful, but that's... like the entire book is about the responsibility of having power, & the big antagonist is not defeated by ged outcasting him. it's about, like, accepting the duality of the self. the book is deeply interested in talking about power and what it means.

meanwhile, basically every one of zorian's problems is resolved by him personally deducing a solution. like, sure, this is kinda commented on in a meta sense a few times -- the whole memory packet thing where he spends months/years trying to learn the abilities needed to unpack it and totally fails & the only reason why he gets anything out of it is that the arache queen thought of him and put a failsafe message in specifically for that case -- but... it's still a huge training montage! it's still chapter after chapter of him getting tutors and training his skills and the old progression fantasy chestnut of "[x thing] had been so difficult and a huge blocker (several chapters ago) and now it's a trivial obstruction that's effortless to bypass" repeating itself over and over again. like, sure, there are absolutely some character beats (him realizing that the reason why uhhh whatshername, his friend who he had a crush on, shows up once in the loop and then never again was because she ends up dying via monster attack & he never actually bothered to follow up on that is what springs to mind for me) but... they're deeply subservient to whatever the latest power advancement beat is in the overall story structure. i think in the entire story he has like, two conversations with people about how actually the part where he's like 24 now and has maybe grown distant and alienated from his former friends while they live out, unchanging, in their month-long cycle over and over is going to have some long-term repercussions for him. there's that, and then there's a million scenes about training his mana bolt.

like sometimes i have story ideas for "this could be a progression fantasy" and sometimes i have story ideas for "this is a story idea i have" and there's absolutely this kind of wrenching distortion when i try to line up story beats from the latter with the former. plenty of stories don't spend like half their wordcount on training montages and showing the characters overcoming struggles through cunning or power. and when they do have those, they're in service to a larger story beat! the hobbit is not about bilbo getting more powerful even though an important part of the character's arc is that he comes home changed.

idk i'd say the defining characteristic that makes something a progression fantasy is that they're about the simple joy of hearing a character becoming more and more and more powerful over and over, to the point where the entire arc of the story bends to accommodate that. 'mother of learning' isn't structured like a mystery, even though it absolutely could be, and i don't really think it's structured like a coming-of-age story either, even if it absolutely has some parts of that there. the bulk of it is just a series of problems, revealed to the reader, that you then get to see zorian overcome. there are other bits there, for sure. but the biggest and clearest through line is about problem-solving via gaining power.

more generally, i think that person's definition of rational fic mostly overlaps with what i'd call a progression fantasy? the arc of the story is about presenting problems that get resolved through a character's ingenuity, at least in part so the readers can vicariously enjoy the problem-solving. it's kind of similar to a detective novel; i wouldn't say the sherlock holmes stories are progression fantasies but maybe if holmes was less condescending and more emphasis was put on how ~awesome~ he was they would be. numbers going up just makes it closer to a litrpg, which is a distinct other thing. so long as the primary arc of the work is about reveling in hearing about a character get more powerful, that's a progression fantasy.

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the-darkness-does-not-bargain · 1 year

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Heaven is Here (if you want it)

A spicy scene from my evolving fic Dear Fellow Traveler. This won’t come into play until further down the line, but I finished it now so I decided to get some feedback. I do hope you guys like it. Tell me what you think <3

Rating: E Pairing: Avatrice Words: 5376

Contains: Enby Ava, praise kink, strap-ons, flip-flopping, wing kink.

They were kissing on the desk in Ava’s room. Ava had Beatrice sitting on the desk itself, standing between her legs and keeping them spread apart with their hands. Old Home was quiet around them as a sleepy morning progressed into a lazy afternoon.

There was nothing lazy about what they were doing, however. Their mouths slid hot and heavy against each other, barely able to separate for breath, and Ava pressed their hands firmly on Bea’s lower back, keeping their bodies close together.

All of this was still fairly new to Beatrice, but her body seemed to have an instinctive grasp on what to do, because her hips started rolling against Ava’s abdomen quite of their own accord. Ava smiled playfully into her mouth when they registered this. Their hands dipped lower to grip her by the ass as they shifted ever-so-slightly upward, bringing their pelvis flush against hers.

“Are you glad to see me, Bea?” They asked, grinning smugly when Beatrice’s breathing stuttered at the contact.

Not one to be outdone, Beatrice responded in kind, wrapping her legs around Ava’s waist and pulling them in tighter. “As glad as you are to see me, I suspect.”

They chuckled, grinning with full teeth as their hands guided her into a steady rhythm. “You know, sometimes I think I remember more than I realize,” they said, talking and grinding at the same speed. “Because sometimes I’m positive that I can make jokes out of the things people say. I just don’t know how because I don’t have the context anymore. Like right now, I know there’s something funny about this, and I think I know why, but the rest won’t come.” Then they snorted. “Heh, come.”

“You are your own best audience, darling,” Beatrice responded blithely, more focused on how the seam of her pants was pressing perfectly against her core. She braced her arms behind her on the desk to push ever more forcefully against Ava.

“Probably just means I have to remake the jokes myself,” Ava continued. With their hands occupied, they used their teeth to tug at the collar of Bea’s button-up, pulling it open enough for them to nibble on her collarbones and run their wet tongue along her throat. “You wanna help me with that, Bea?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Ava smiled wide against her cheek and pressed a kiss there. “I’ll show you.” With that, they retreated, gently pulling out of Beatrice’s hold and kissing her once before turning away. “If you see this and aren’t interested, it’s no problem,” they said as they skipped over to their closet. “It’s not for everyone, but I think most people like it when they try it.” Beatrice waited on the desk as they began rummaging around, leaning forward curiously to see what they were looking for.

After a minute of searching, they emerged with a box. Beatrice blinked, her brow furrowing as Ava carried it back to her. “A box?”

“No, silly,” Ava said, flicking her shoulder. “In the box. It’s this.” They opened the top and revealed its contents, which did not help to resolve her confusion.

She wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a… translucent rod of some kind, several inches long, with a minor curve in its shaft. One of its ends flared outward, looking slightly bulbous, while the other was attached to some kind of base and a mess of leather strips and metal buckles.

She looked between it and Ava in evident befuddlement. “What is that?”

“It’s got a few names attached to it. I usually call it a strap-on, or strap,” they said, shrugging. “But it’s a toy, basically. A sex toy.”

“A sex… toy…” she repeated, puzzling over the term. “How do you…” She blushed, the words becoming a jumble in her brain.

“Play with it?” Ava finished for her. “You wear it. Or, well, one person wears it, and they fuck the other person with it. It’s a toy cock, basically.”

The word “cock” struck a chord of recognition for Beatrice, casting her mind back to the random pile of books she pored through on her first trip to the library. One of them had been a battered anatomy textbook, and another had been a strange fiction story that she hadn’t finished. She frowned. “It’s meant to emulate male genitalia?”

“In a word, yeah,” Ava said. “Like I said, if you don’t want to, I’ll put it away right now.”

“I didn’t say that,” Beatrice countered. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it, truthfully. The textbook’s diagrams of the male form hadn’t interested her in the slightest beyond simple curiosity, and she certainly couldn’t imagine herself being interested in any flesh-and-blood males either, based on what she’d seen of them.

But, if she pictured Ava with a… cock, well… that changed things. Still, she found herself apprehensive. “What does it feel like?” She finally asked.

Ava tilted their head. “Wearing it or getting fucked with it?”

“Both, I suppose,” she said, blushing at the other haibane’s coarse language.

“Well, wearing it usually feels pretty good. It’s designed to stimulate the clit while you use it, so if you know what you’re doing, it’s really nice.” They shrugged. “Getting fucked with it… I guess you don’t have much to compare it to, but it mostly feels really full. It’s not too big, but it definitely gets the job done. It’s longer than most fingers too, so it can go deeper. Again, if you know what you’re doing, it can feel really, really good.”

Beatrice considered this, looking down at the odd toy again while Ava pressed their hands against her ribs, rubbing in calming circles. She appreciated that, but found it unnecessary. She was calm. She was interested, at least enough to make an attempt.

“Let’s try it,” she told them decisively, before sliding off the desk. Ava wrapped their arms securely around her waist as she did so, kissing her sweetly.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded, feeling more certain with each passing second. “I am. Although, I think you’ll need to… use it, at least this time.”

Ava beamed at her with teeth and kissed her again, harder. “Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’ll fuck you so well you won’t remember anything else today.”

Beatrice smirked back at them with eyebrows raised. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

They moved to the bed, undressing each other as they went and giggling giddily as they stripped down. Ava pushed Beatrice to sit on the edge of the bed while they put the toy on. That was when she realized that the mess of leather and buckles was actually a harness, one that looped securely around Ava’s hips and locked the fake cock in place over her cunt.

Just as she suspected, seeing this sort of thing on Ava evoked a much different feeling than pictures in a textbook. They hadn’t done anything more than make out and get naked, but Beatrice could already feel herself getting wet with excitement. That excitement only grew as Ava fastened the last buckle. They wrapped one hand around the shaft of the thing and jerked their wrist in an up-and-down motion for several seconds, grunting softly as they did so. Beatrice realized a second late that they were playing with themself, pushing on the base of the toy to rub against their clit, and this realization was powerful enough to make her drip onto her own thighs.

Ava noticed this, their eyes fixating on the apex of Bea’s legs while their wrist continued to pump. “Are you getting wet, Bea? Ready for me to fuck you?”

Provoked, Beatrice spread her legs wider, showing herself more fully to Ava. “I guess that depends on if you’re ready to fuck me.”

“Sassy,” Ava purred, stalking slowly forward. They dropped to their knees in front of her and gripped her thighs with both hands to keep them apart. Beatrice carded her fingers through their hair as they pressed kisses all over her belly before dipping down to ghost teasingly over her pussy. “You’re ready, alright,” they growled before sucking her into their mouth. Beatrice hissed through her teeth as a too-clever tongue worked her over, dipping inside her quickly before retreating to lick her clit in tight little circles. They did this several times, winding her up until she was practically riding their mouth and keeping them close with a tight-fisted hand.

Ava retreated before she could get anywhere, however, smugly smirking up at her when she grumbled at them. “Patience is a virtue, baby,” they told her. “And I want you to cum on my dick, got it?” They allowed her to drag them up into a bruising, open-mouthed kiss, but then they started pushing her backward on the bed. “I’d like to do this a certain way, okay? I promise it’ll be good. Will you try it for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” She asked.

“Get up and turn around on the bed, baby. On your hands and knees.” They helped guide her into the position they wanted, making it so that her knees were folded under her abdomen and her face was resting against the mattress. She was initially confused about the purpose of this, until she felt Ava push against her backside, pressing the toy against her damp folds.

“Oh,” she moaned, arching back into the sensation.

“See what I mean?” Ava said, rubbing her sides. “You’re gonna love this, I can already tell. Let me just get some lube on.” They retreated momentarily, and Beatrice could hear something like a bottle or tube being uncapped. There came a slick, rubbing sound that made her ears turn red, and then Ava was back in the same position, using their hips to stroke the toy against her cunt until she could feel herself dripping onto it. “So nice, right, Bea? I’m going to try pushing it in now.” They framed her hips with both hands, and moved until the head of the cock was teasing her entrance. “It can be a lot to handle at first, so I’m gonna go slow, okay? Just focus on breathing and relaxing, and if it doesn’t feel good or you want to stop, tell me.”

“I will,” Beatrice promised. True to their word, Ava took their time. When the tip of the toy first pushed inside her, it retreated quickly. Then it returned, pressing in a little more, before pulling back. She didn’t find anything spectacular about it at first. It felt nice, to be sure, but it wasn’t anything life-changing.

It wasn’t until Ava had worked it halfway into her that this opinion started to change, but when it did, it changed rapidly.

“Oh, mmm,” she groaned when Ava put a little more force into their next thrust, pushing almost the entire length inside her. Suddenly, she understood what Ava had said about feeling full. Taking Ava’s fingers had been incredible, but this was downright dizzying. The thing was girthy enough to press against all of her walls at once, giving her no angle of escape from the persistent stimulation it provided.

“Doesn’t that feel good, Bea?” They asked, pulling back once more before finally bottoming out inside her.

“It does,” she whimpered, shaking from the overwhelming feeling of it. “It feels so good, darling.”

Ava paused there, keeping the toy fully sheathed inside as they waited for her to get her bearings. They rubbed a soothing hand over her spine, crooning softly in time with her needy whines and pants.

“Are you still having tenderness along here?” As they asked the question, Ava’s fingertips ghosted over the downy place where Beatrice’s wings emerged from her back. Their other hand kept up a loose but steady hold on her hip, thumb rubbing aimlessly over her skin.

Beatrice hummed, too distracted by the fullness between her legs to give a proper response. Apparently, this was unsatisfactory to Ava, who leaned over and down until they were flush against Bea’s back. The hand touching her wings remained in place, but the other traveled upward, leaving a trail of heat along her ribs and over her breast until she felt careful fingers taking hold of her jaw.

“I need an answer, baby. Are your wings still sore?” Beatrice couldn’t help how she shivered from halo to toe as Ava’s lips teased her ear, nor the way her core tightened around the toy when she registered the vibration of the words passing through Ava’s chest into her spine.

Losing herself to all of these sensations was perilously easy, but those fingers at her chin were insistent, so Beatrice bit her lower lip hard and took a deep, grounding breath.

“No, they’re alright,” she answered, feeling a vague sense of accomplishment when her voice didn’t tremble. “I can even lay on my back now, for short periods.”

“Okay,” Ava murmured, pressing a butterfly kiss to her temple before straightening up again. Beatrice shivered again, this time from the loss of warmth and weight against her back. Ava’s hands returned to their previous positions, but this time their right hand curled under Bea’s wing to anchor itself at the base. “If it starts to hurt, or if you don’t like it, tell me right away, got it?” Biting her lip again, Beatrice nodded. “Good, I’m gonna start moving now.”

Move, they did. The first draw backwards was excruciatingly slow, as Beatrice swore she could feel every millimeter of the fake cock drag against her inner walls. Each of those millimeters pressed back in just as slowly, drawing a near noiseless whine from her throat when Ava bottomed out. This process repeated several times, each time ramping up with a bit more speed, a touch more force, but it wasn’t enough.

“Faster,” she whimpered, pressing her hips back against Ava’s. It was a shameless, wanton thing to do, one that the weakening but ever present specter in her mind told her she should be ashamed of, but she quickly and forcefully pushed it aside. “I need more.”

“You’ll get more, pretty girl,” Ava practically purred, the pet name drawing another eager gush of arousal from Beatrice’s cunt. “Fuck, you are wet. I can feel you on my skin, Bea,” they grunted, grinding instinctively against her ass and groaning as the base of the strap rubbed their clit. “Hold onto the sheets for me, okay, baby? I’m going to fuck you good now.”

Beatrice’s hands curled obediently into the moth-bitten duvet, and she was tempted to dig her teeth in too when Ava’s next thrust hit with a bolt of lightning. As it was, she pressed her face into the mattress to stifle the embarrassing yelp that left her at the sudden motion, and kept it there to hide her breathless little moans as Ava started rutting into her at a steady and devastating pace. It still wasn’t particularly fast, but each thrust was deep and purposeful, burying the strap inside her hungry intention.

Beatrice found her own body just as ravenous. Like all the cunning trickster beasts out of the library’s storybooks, she chased Ava’s cock when it drew back and fought to trap it when it returned, her drenched pussy clenching around it as a wolf’s jaw clamps down on a rabbit. By the shuddering pants and soft grunts coming from behind her, she knew Ava could feel it, feel how they had to work to maintain the rhythm they had chosen, the tempo and intensity.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Bea, you’re taking me so good,” they whimpered, their fingers flexing spasmodically around Beatrice’s hip and wing. “Keep pressing back on me like that, I can feel you.”

Beatrice was nothing if not a diligent worker, and she found in her gut a fire, a blazing determination to make Ava feel her, to turn this overwhelming pleasure back on its creator. In the spirit of such passionate fairness, she pressed her palms flat against the duvet and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees again, a position that actually gave her a very slight height advantage on the other haibane. In most circumstances, the difference was negligible, but here the subtle shift in angle pulled a particularly ruined whine from Ava and momentarily caused their hips to falter. “Baby, baby, Bea…” they chanted, turning the simple recitation into something primally lyrical. “Do you feel good? Please, I need you to feel good, please.”

“I do,” Beatrice intoned breathlessly. “I do. You’re wonderful, Ava. I’ve never felt like this before.” Telling the truth had never been more satisfying, Beatrice thought. She would dare to say that no one in the world could understand the feverish, aching joy she felt in this moment. The world, after all, was as small as a town. “Keep going, darling.”

“Shit,” Ava swore. “Can I… can I move you? I want you up against me." Beatrice leaned back on her hips, allowing Ava to wrap an arm around her midsection and pull her upright until they were flush together again. Ava's right hand drifted down to cup Bea's breast, while they buried their face into one of Bea's wings. "Mmo mhoft."

"What was that?" Ava's canting hips continued to push into her relentlessly, making it difficult to keep track of the conversation, but Beatrice did her best despite the clever fingers now pulling and teasing her nipple. "Darling, what did you say?"

Ava’s face emerged from her wing to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against her shoulder. "So soft," they repeated, sounding drunk. "Your wings, Bea. So pretty and soft. Pretty and gray."

"Just like yours," Bea panted, hissing when Ava’s left hand joined the right in playing with her breasts.

In response, Ava buried their face in feathers again. "Mhot mike mhine," they mumbled, but before Beatrice could ask what they meant, her words were quieted and turned to nonsense by pressure against her clit.

"Oh, Ava," she gasped, her hips bucking erratically, uncontrollably. She was trapped between two bone-shaking sources of pleasure. Ava's hands and cock were holding her in place better than any ropes or sky-high walls could dream of. They stole her breath and turned her brain to mush. "Ava, Ava, I'm close!"

"I know, Bea," Ava groaned. "Fuck, I can almost feel it. Will you cum for me, baby?"

Beatrice nodded frantically, tossing her head back onto Ava's shoulder and leaving her neck wide open to be sucked and marked. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord, one traveling upward to cover Ava's over her breast, and the other reaching back to grasp madly at Ava's ass, a wordless plea to fuck her harder.

The noises coming out of her, coming out of both of them, were loud enough to bounce off the walls. The moans, the panting, the wet slap of skin, all of it was driving her further and further towards the cliff. Just a little more and she would…

"Oh, shit, Bea, just like that! You're getting me soaked." Beatrice barely heard her, but Ava didn't seem to mind as they slowed everything down to a crawl. They kept fucking her through her climax, sweet and gentle, coaxing her down from the peak as a shepherd does a lamb. Only when the last of the aftershocks had passed and Beatrice was a puddle in their arms did Ava stop, lowering her down to the bed and pressing little kisses into Bea's sweaty hair.

"I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" They were careful and took their time, but the withdrawal still provoked another full-body shiver from Beatrice when her cunt clenched around nothing. There was a yearning ache to it, a soft pain that she thought came from loss of connection more than anything else. She shut her eyes tiredly as she felt Ava’s weight temporarily retreat from the bed. There came the sounds of buckles unfastening, then an almost imperceptible thud as the harness was discarded, and then Ava was back next to her, coaxing Beatrice to turn on her side and sliding a pillow under her head.

Beatrice forced her eyes open with effort, regarding the other haibane as they settled beside her. "That was wonderful, Ava."

Ava beamed. "I know, right? Told you it was a good time."

"Did you finish?"

"Hmm?"

Bea's brow furrowed, and she looked at Ava more carefully. "Did you finish?" She repeats.

"Oh," Ava said, their gaze retreating from Bea's. "I'm good. I had a great time."

Beatrice frowned. She hoisted herself up on her elbow to look down at Ava more fully. "Ava, did you cum?" She asked, more firmly than before.

Ava huffed softly. "Don't worry about me, Bea. I promise I'm go-uh!" Whatever they were about to say was definitively cut off by Beatrice’s fingers pressing against their swollen clit.

"That’s what I thought," Beatrice murmured, keeping her touch slow and light, marveling at how forcefully Ava's hips jumped in response. After several seconds, she stopped, pulling her hand back to Ava’s thigh, where she could feel the muscles twitch under the skin. "Ava," she began tenderly. "I won't do anything you don't want me to. This can end right now if you say so. But please, don't downplay your own needs for me."

"'M not," Ava mumbled sheepishly. "I was going to handle it."

"Do you not want me to touch you like that?"

"No!" They quickly denied. "I love it when you touch me. It's just…" They nervously wriggled around on top of the duvet. Beatrice waited for them to settle, keeping her hand where it was until Ava told her to move it. "It's kind of embarrassing…"

Beatrice tilted her head. "Your pleasure?" She couldn’t imagine why. If what they just did wasn’t embarrassing, then she was at a loss to understand how this could be.

"Not that… necessarily," Ava clarified haltingly. They worried their bottom lip for several seconds before continuing. "Okay, do you promise not to laugh?"

Beatrice felt a sudden storm of affection sweep through her, starting from the center of her chest and spiraling outward at breakneck speed. Ava was just so… cute. Their squirmy restlessness was wildly endearing, and the genuinely shy way they were glancing at her made Beatrice want to kiss them again.

Since they were in the middle of an important conversation, she chose instead to brush her knuckles over Ava's cheek. "I promise not to laugh," she swore.

"Okay," Ava repeated. "So I have this thing, most times I have sex, where I can't, like… get off, before my partner." They put their fingers together over their stomach, lacing and unlacing them repetitively. "I mean, I can do it eventually, but it's like I just need them to do it first. Or else I can't get there? Does that make sense?"

"I don't know," Beatrice answered honestly. "I don't really know anything about all of this."

"I guess none of us do, right? I've never met a haibane who arrived with a complete idea of how sex works."

"So, why did you not want me to help you finish?"

Ava's eyebrows pinched together adorably. "It’s not that I didn't. It's definitely not that… I guess I'm just not used to people noticing. That I didn't get there with them, ya know?"

Beatrice’s brow furrowed. "Surely that can't be true for everyone. What about Lilith?"

Ava let out a frustrated grumble. "Not her," they concede. "Lilith is Lilith, so she notices. But the other people I've slept with… Let’s just say it's not common. So I guess I'm just used to going without until I can take care of it myself."

"Do you ever tell them you didn't finish or ask them to return the favor?"

Somehow, after all of their exertions, Ava is still capable of blushing. "Uh, well… that seems like a weird thing to ask, right? And kinda demanding?"

Beatrice shook her head fervently. "Absolutely not. I should think that asking your partner to properly pleasure you is only fair. After all, I assume they asked you before you slept with them."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

Beatrice moved her hand again to cup them over their sex. "Ask me, Ava," she commanded, her voice dropping low. "Ask me to pleasure you."

"Bea…" Warm, pretty pink spread from their cheeks all the way down to their nipples, and they looked away, flustered.

"Ask me," Beatrice repeated, fingers ghosting through damp curls. Her palm exerted the barest hint of pressure against Ava's clit, and she was enraptured by the way they shivered. "Ask me to make you cum, darling. I want you to feel what I did when you were inside me."

"F-fuck…" Ava's hips started bucking again under the light touch. "Baby, I… please?"

"Please what?" She purred, dipping low to press her lips to Ava's ear. There was a funny sort of power that came from being in this position, as opposed to a few minutes ago when Ava was the one in control. "Tell me what you need."

Ava whined. "I-I need to cum, baby," they said, finally giving in. "I'm sorry, please fuck me…"

"Don't apologize," she responded, kissing Ava’s temple fiercely. "I want to fuck you. I want to do this for you." She stroked and teased through Ava's folds, humming at the growing flood of arousal she found there. "So warm here, darling, so ready. You're coating my whole hand."

Her words evoked a powerful response from the other haibane, who covered their eyes with one arm and whimpered, burying their teeth into their bottom lip to muffle the noise. It was an image so beautiful and vulnerable that Beatrice wanted to curl around them like a living cocoon, so that only she might get to see them like this.

She remembered how much it affected her to hear Ava’s praise, and decided it was time to turn the tables. "You're beautiful, Ava," she murmured against their cheek. "Everytime you smile, it unravels me just a little bit more." She ran her lips up and down the length of their neck, lingering over their pounding pulse. "And now that I've seen you like this, I don't think I'll ever recover."

Wasting no more time, she carefully pressed a single finger inside, and when they cried out, she caught the vibration of their vocal cords between her teeth.

"Oh god, Bea, please!"

Beatrice kept things slow at first, almost languid, because she wanted more time to watch Ava fall apart under her touch. With one finger setting a lazy pace and the heel of her hand braced against Ava's clit, she was content to catalog all the ways their body responded. The squirming, the shaking, the tiny little gasps and disjointed syllables they couldn’t seem to contain. And how they practically yelped in surprise when her mouth closed over one of their nipples. When their hand crept into her hair to hold her in place, she rewarded them by grazing her teeth over the sensitive bud while curling her finger inside, encouraging their hips to move with her.

“Baby, please!”

“What do you need?” She asked, abandoning Ava’s nipple only briefly, flicking her tongue over it as she waited for a response. When the only response she got was another desperate moan, she stopped entirely, pushing herself up again to look down into Ava’s face. “What do you need, Ava?”

They pressed their arm tighter over their eyes while their pretty, pink lips quivered, wordlessly begging to be kissed. “I need more! Please, Bea, I just need more!”

“Good,” she praised them. “Move your arm. I want to see you.” She waited until they complied, gazing up at her with brown eyes that were just a little wet. “There you are,” she whispered with a soft smile. “I liked it when you called me a pretty girl,” she admitted. “Do you want to be called a pretty girl too, darling? Or a pretty boy?”

The question alone caused a powerful response in Ava because instead of answering, they surged upward, wrapping both of their arms around her neck and crashing their lips together. The kiss was wild and frantic, even clumsy, full of knocking teeth and mismatched angles. But it was perfect. Ava’s arms tugged at her, and Beatrice let herself be pulled on top of them, using her free arm to brace her body while her working hand kept pumping away inside the other haibane.

“Ava?” She prompted when they finally broke apart for air.

“B-both,” they answered shyly. “But… call me pretty girl right now?”

“Of course,” she agreed easily, pressing butterfly kisses all over their face. Then she leaned down to whisper into their ear again. “Pretty girl…” Oh, how they shivered… “Are you ready to take more?”

“Yes! Please, give me more, Bea!” They said, pushing their cunt back against her hand. She let them do that for several seconds before she finally pushed a second finger inside, dropping the slow, lazy rhythm in favor of something faster and more pointed. “Oh yes, baby, thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

“You’re so sweet, pretty girl,” she told them as she returned to their neglected nipples, taking first one and then the other between her tongue and teeth. “I’m so glad I get to do this for you.” She pressed her lips over Ava’s heart and swore she could feel it racing just under the skin. “Are you close, darling?” It was a silly question, really, because she could feel the answer in how Ava’s pussy was clenching around her fingers and trying to suck them in, but she wanted to ask anyway.

“I am, baby! I’m so close, you’re so good!”

“Cum when you’re ready, darling,” she told them. “I’m right here. Show me how beautiful you are when you cum.”

When it happened less than a minute later, it was indeed beautiful. Ava’s jaw stretched wide around a wordless, rapturous sob as their body arched sharply off the bed. They pressed up into Beatrice as they tossed their head back against the disheveled sheets, baring their throat to be ravished by her ever-starving mouth. Even their halo seemed to react, glowing brighter than ever before.

She thought for a fraction of a second that they looked statue-esque in their climax, but quickly discarded the notion. This was too wondrous, too chaotic and alive, to ever be captured in something as stagnant as a statue.

Just as they had done for her, Beatrice kept going through Ava’s orgasm, gradually winding everything back down until they rested limp and panting on the bed. When her fingers finally stilled, she kissed Ava’s cheek to get their attention. “I’m going to pull out now,” she warned them, before reclaiming her hand with care, feeling goosebumps erupt across her skin when the walls of Ava’s cunt tried to keep her inside.

“Bea, holy shit, that was…”

“Good?” Beatrice supplied hopefully, laying down on her side next to them.

“Amazing,” they corrected, quickly rolling and snuggling up against her. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly and let their legs tangle together. Ava kissed Beatrice like they wanted to drown in her, like there wasn’t a deeper place in the world to hide in than her body. “I can’t believe you just did that,” they continued. “Maybe you’re the one with the secret sex memories, and you didn’t even know.”

Beatrice giggled despite herself. “I highly doubt that.”

“I dunno, Bea, you sure as fuck knew what you were doing.”

She kissed them on their cheek. “Maybe I’m just good at paying attention.” They both fell silent then, basking in the quiet of the sleepy afternoon and the peace between them. Ava buried their face in Bea’s chest, nuzzling closer still when one of Beatrice’s hands started stroking their messy hair.

“Will you stay like this with me?” They asked, so quietly that she almost couldn’t hear. She felt their fingers brush over her wings, curling into the soft feathers there.

“Of course I will,” she told them, a whispered promise against the warm surface of their halo. “For as long as you want me.”

#warrior nun #my writing #ava silva #sister beatrice #the cocoon is hatching #here's to hoping i haven't completely lost my ability to write sex

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