#to the fact that HE WAS CORRUPTED IN HELL IN ORDER TO EARN THE TITLE... i mean...

[djcarnationsblog]

OC Ramble: Andrez

Hi, yes hello, Time to do an oc ramble of my first bsd oc

Andrez is an AMAB bigender mafioso, going by either he/him or she/her. He comes from a long line of Mafia men and women, everyone in his family tree was apart of the Mafia at some point in their lives. He was born and raised to be a Mafioso.

However, his profession doesn’t align with his personality. Andrez is an empathetic and calm person, very down to earth and even a little sarcastic at times, but he’s good natured. Because of said personality, people would forget the fact that he’s ever even dangerous to begin with, let alone a mafia member.

Andrez is also one of the few black people apart of the Port Mafia, a mix of Mexican (Mother’s side) and black (Father’s side). Andrez is also a very well-respected figure in the mafia, but not because of her ranking, just below executive level, but because of her unofficial title of the ‘Big Sibling’ of the pm.

A nice fun fact about her is that when she was a bit younger, she had a dream of being a college teacher, and still does as a matter of fact. She’s not too active in the Mafia because of this, taking online college courses to earn a teaching degree, and using the things she learned to help other, much younger members who hadn’t gotten the chance to go to school at all.

Even better, as she currently also has a job as a part time model, using the more corrupted side of the industry, like their media, to siphon information when such is needed. Overall, Andrez is a very productive person, and that shows in many ways.

Now, this next bit can and can’t be seen as a backstory!

Andrez was at least two when she lost her eyesight to an eye disease, her vision almost completely unsalvageable. It was also around the time in which her ability first developed, The Promised Islands.

Andrez’ family was rightfully devastated, which spurred on the actions of seeking out someone by any means necessary, specifically an ability user, who could somehow help fix their child’s sight. It took at least until Andrez was seven for them to find someone.

This ability user, a man who could create almost anything that’s not impossible to make, had created a special pair of glasses for Andrez, giving her the ability to see as long as she wore them. It was a huge relief for the family.

But with this, came some complications.

The more that Andrez aged, the more that the limits of his ability became prominent. He could only use it if he was blind, which meant removing the glasses and subjecting Andrez to that emptiness. Andrez, however, wasn’t afraid of this, and honed his ability with diligence and determination, a patience that doesn’t run in the family at all.

Andrez was able to summon and command the spirits on the other side, in whichever afterlife there is, Hell’s Realm, Neutral Space and Heaven’s Gates. Through these spirits, Andrez went on to become the only person in the world who knew what awaited humanity in the afterlife, and hasn’t told a single soul of what it looked like.

Andrez became an official member of the pm at the age of fourteen, working under the manager of the Weaponry and Ammunition department for several years, later on becoming the assistant manager as seventeen. He was a hardworking individual, and much more mature for his age, a thing that happened to all the children in his family.

At the age of fifteen, Andrez lost his leg in a combat mission, resulting in the metal leg you’ll see in his reference sheet. He’s not too fond of how it happened, so nobody really knows how, they simply speculate and gossip rumors.

And, at the age of seventeen is when he met the danger duo; Sokouku.

Actually, it was of Mori’s order that led to their meeting, as at the time, the two had just met at fifteen, and working together was still a new thing for them, so missions tended to get messy really fast.

Andrez worked in the shadows as damage control, as he was best suited for handling the damage of such large properties, so property damage was surprisingly kept to a minimum, at least until Corruption was used. Andrez still hasn’t been able to handle damage control when it came to missions in which Corruption was necessary.

Like Hirotsu, Andrez was there to witness the progression, then subsequent downfall of Sokouku and their relationship, he even took it upon himself to tutor Chuuya and the Akutagawas. Dazai himself didn’t need tutoring, thanks to his intelligence, but Andrez still insisted to at least attempt to give him something close to the mundane experience of schooling.

Even to this day, when their adults and all, Andrez gives Chuuya and the Akutagawas college level education, especially so after graduating from college himself.

Another thing to mention would be the relationship between Andrez and one Sakunosuke Oda.

She and Sakunosuke were good friends, and one could often see them together at Bar Lupin, after Dazai and Ango would vacate. Other than that, there have been multiple times where they’d been to each other’s houses, and Sakunosuke even introduced her to the kids as well. They had a calm and very close friendship between them, although never as close as Dazai and Sakunosuke, not that Andrez minded.

After particularly hard missions, Andrez would be at Bar Lupin, explaining her rough day as Sakunosuke would patch her up. She even felt safe enough around him to remove her glasses, allowing Sakunosuke around her whilst blind.

Of course, no good thing lasts forever, and the Mimic Incident occurred.

Rightfully, Andrez was devastated, but not so much as one may think, especially because of her privilege. She always felt selfish for it, but it was necessary that Dazai never knew.

Her ability saved her grief.

They were still with her, the children as spirits of Heaven’s Gates, and Sakunosuke from Neutral Space. She had Sakunosuke promise to keep tabs on Dazai, as long as she promised in return to not tell him anything of their meetings until the time was right.

Dazai needed to remain ignorant to fulfill the promise he made to Sakunosuke, because as close as he was to the man, there was no garuntee he’d be inclined to leave the mafia, what Sakunosuke knew would be best for him, if he could simply communicate through Andrez’ ability. So of course, everything remained as it was.

And now, for a special little guest!

Chitter!!!

This is Chitter, and there’s one thing that’s most important to know about it!

Nobody knows what the fuck it is.

Not even I know what Chitter’s supposed to be, it’s just some kind of unidentifiable creature that has some sort of tie to the cycle of the afterlife, and as a result, connects to Andrez’ ability in a wacky way.

Because of its odd, indescribable tie with the afterlife, Andrez can in fact summon it as normal. The thing is, Chitter can come and go as much as it wants, can practically do anything without the jurisdiction of Andrez. It’s been her companion for as long as she can remember, a circus inspired creature that’s unknown to the world.

Chitter goes by any and all pronouns, as it literally is incapable of caring about what gender it’s perceived as, if people see it with a gender at all. Andrez usually calls it by either it/its or they/them.

The reason why it’s named Chitter, is because that thing can’t stop talking to save its life. It has to make a conscious effort to shut up, or it won’t, and it’s completely normal for Chitter. The only problem? To Andrez, it’s perfect fucking japanese.

To everyone else? Static clown laughter.

It’s chatter actually has the ability to drown out a person’s thoughts, make it completely incapable to think as long as one can hear Chitter chattering. Chitter, because of it’s odd nature, is also the only spirit-like creature Andrez has ever seen from her ability, as her ability obviously requires her blindness, and Chitter doesn’t need that incentive to be summoned.

The only person other than Andrez who can think clearly around Chitter, is surprisingly and unsurprisingly, Chuuya.

It’s mostly because instead of drowning out his thoughts, Chitter drowns out Arahabaki’s voice since it’s the most prominent sound in Chuuya’s brain, and because of that, Chuuya has this weird fondness towards the critter, as Chitter has an oddly strong like for Chuuya.

You can often see Chitter tucked under Chuuya’s hat, too. Chattering away. Additionally, whenever Chitter chatters, it vibrates, almost like a bobblehead, just twenty times more extreme. So Chuuya’s hat vibrates when Chitter’s hangin’ out inside it.

Suffice to say though, Dazai hates Chitter. For obvious reasons.

And Chitter likes Dazai anyways. For not so obvious reasons.

Anyways! Onto Funfacts!

> Andrez is a coffee-addict, as it takes quite a lot of energy to summon spirits, especially much bigger and more dangerous ones.

>Andrez is Bigender and Aromantic, but likes giving platonic kisses to his friends.

> Andrez is 6′8, making him taller than Dazai, and MUCH taller than Chuuya.

>Andrez’ mother miscarried who would have been his baby brother, and wears the choker daily to honor him.

>Andrez nicknamed Dazai ‘The Suicidian’ or simply ‘Suicider’.

>Andrez sometimes sparred with Chuuya when he was fifteen, but Chuuya only really started winning the fights at seventeen.

>Chuuya and Andrez have a very close brother/sibling and student/teacher relationship.

>Akutagawa will sometimes accompany Andrez whilst he does his work, only ever when he needs some form of comfort and won’t admit it. Andrez simply rubs his back his entire stay.

>Lil thing from me, if I hadn’t made Andrez Aromantic and completely uninterested in romance for himself, I would’ve shipped him with Sakunosuke.

>When Dazai left, Andrez would often find his way into Chuuya’s office to subtly check up on his mental condition, then at Bar Lupin would check with Sakunosuke to see how Dazai is holding up.

>Andrez, along with Kouyou, was the one to help teach Chuuya to read, as he was illiterate when he first joined the Port Mafia.

>Andrez finds it funny how Chitter would hop from his shoulder and wiggle their way into Chuuya’s hat when they cross paths.

>Chitter has clung themself to Dazai before, and he almost went mad trying to get the creature off him so he could think properly. Chitter shows no signs of regret.

Aaaand that’s about it for my buddy Andrez! If you have any questions about Andrez or Chitter, feel free to ask!

[mittensmorgul]

Paving the Road to Hell

After 13.14, an episode whose title even deliberately prompts us to question the actions and choices of Team Free Will, I’ve seen a lot of backlash over the moral dubiousness of some of those choices and actions. It’s rather frustrating that the distant past is being used as a comparison for why their current moral quandaries are somehow condemnable. But Sam and Dean Winchester, going all the way back to s1, have always operated in this wide morally grey area. Even Castiel has struggled with this since the start, despite his initial conviction that his orders were just and beyond moral reproach because they came from Heaven. It took uncovering the extent of Heaven’s corruption for him to reject those orders, but even that choice didn’t come from a standpoint of Lawful Good intent. Siding with humanity (and Dean) simply became the less morally objectionable choice in Castiel’s opinion.

This goes right back to season one, and Dean telling Sam and John that he was appalled at what he was willing to do to protect them. He shot and killed what he knew to be an innocent human being possessed by a demon in order to save John and Sam in 1.22, and he didn’t regret it one bit. Tell me how objectively heroic that was?

(in the sense of “When in doubt, when none of your choices are good, save what you love,” yeah, it’s entirely understandable.)

And that’s just one instance out of hundreds. For anyone who truly believes that Sam and Dean (and now Cas, as well) haven’t always occupied this moral grey area, I invite you to rewatch the entire series. I rewatched 4.16 today, and I think this episode is a particularly excellent example of this for all three of them.

S4 had been gradually revealing the extent of Sam’s involvement with Ruby and just how “darkside” he’d gone under her tutelage. We learned right up front in 4.01 that he was lying to Dean about her and in 4.04 that he was lying to Dean about using his powers. We (and Dean) learn even more about Sam and Ruby’s relationship in 4.09, and we (but NOT Dean) learn about the blood drinking power up in 4.16. Dean only discovers that bit of trivia in 4.20, and he takes immediate steps to “detox” Sam from Ruby’s influence and the demon blood in 4.21. All of that fails because Cas frees Sam on Heaven’s orders, but the big dramatic irony of the entire season was that they’d all been lied to and manipulated into doing exactly what Heaven (and Hell) wanted them to do.

They were told all along that they needed to kill Lilith because she would start the apocalypse, when all along KILLING LILITH was the key to freeing Lucifer and STARTING the apocalypse. All their fraught moral compromises were for naught, their squabbles over who was strong enough or destined to kill Lilith were a distraction. The entirety of s4 was about setting the board for the actual prize fight in s5.

Knowing the futility of all their actions through the power of Hindsight™, it makes their moral corruption (Sam’s conviction that his self-sacrifice was for the greater good, and Dean’s conviction that Heaven’s path to killing Lilith was morally just) is where the dramatic irony of the entire season comes to a head.

But let’s explore some of their morally questionable choices and actions just from within the context of a single episode, and specifically a single episode that directly addresses what is right and what is objectively wrong, and pits them against their current beliefs and their good intentions.

The episode begins with a woman in white, lying dead on the ground as car alarms blare. That was the episode’s version of the Kill Bill Siren going off here. Cas silences the alarms-- ignores the alarms, essentially, over his sister’s body. He disappears in a flap of wings as we see the dead angel’s wings imprinted in charcoal on the ground.

What he doesn’t know, but will by the end of the episode, is that her murder was arranged to convince him to agree to support Uriel’s “orders,” to recruit Dean to torture Alastair. The entire situation was a setup to further Heaven’s corrupt agenda, to keep Dean under their thumb, to encourage Sam to continue his self-corruption drinking Ruby’s blood in preparation to kill Lilith as it was prophesied.

In this episode, Anna was the wild card. Her position as a fugitive from Heaven, who’d rebelled against her orders, who cared so much for humanity that she’d fallen and become human and only recovered her grace to save her own life and continue working to undermine Heaven’s agenda, allowed her to act as both the metaphorical angel on Cas’s shoulder, as well as his literal savior.

At the beginning of the episode, Sam and Dean are returning from Pamela’s funeral. Yet another character killed because they thought they were doing the right thing asking for her help. Saving a seal was more urgent, so they brought her in to help despite her clear objections in 4.15:

Pamela: Yeah, I do. And guess what? I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap.

She also delivered the coup de grace of this entire point leading into 4.16. As she lay dying because she’d agreed to help and been caught up in the line of fire, she whispers this warning in Sam’s ear:

Pamela: I know what you did to that demon, Sam. I can feel what's inside of you. If you think you have good intentions, think again.

But of course he doesn’t… his inability to save Pamela only drives him further into Ruby’s confidence, doubling down on making himself “stronger” by drinking her blood and intensifying his psychic powers. But Pamela’s dying words, now made the title of 13.14, set up some of the biggest examples of Good Intentions paving superhighways to Hell.

While torturing the demon who’d literally trained Dean to torture, put into this position by angels of Heaven, Dean learns that his own personal self-ruination through his moment of weakness in Hell had been the singular act that broke the first seal and ushered in the apocalypse. Talk about a demoralizing blow.

Cas fought against what he’d always believed was wrong. He may have doubted Heaven’s orders, but Anna’s suggestion that they were on the same side was a bridge too far for him to cross yet. At first he was receptive to her council that forcing Dean to torture was wrong, because he felt similarly ambivalent, until she implied they could work together… his doubts continued, but it took Dean breaking again, and the further uncovering of evidence that Uriel (and possibly Heaven in general) were at the very least working against the general good:

Castiel: Lucifer is not God. Uriel: God isn't God anymore. He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that.

Cas continues to struggle with what is right, with whom to trust, and what lengths he’s willing to go to, how much of his loyalty to Heaven is deserved:

ANNA: What do you want from me, Castiel? CASTIEL: I'm considering disobedience. ANNA: Good. CASTIEL: No, it isn't. For the first time, I feel... ANNA: It gets worse. Choosing your own course of action is confusing, terrifying. ANNA puts her hand on CASTIEL's shoulder. He looks at it; she drops it. ANNA: That's right. You're too good for my help. I'm just trash. A walking blasphemy. CASTIEL: Anna. I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do. ANNA: Like the old days? No. I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself.

Meanwhile, when Dean is taken away to torture Alastair, Sam’s first move is to call on Ruby for help. She not only locates Dean for him, but reinforces Sam’s dependence on her and his belief that drinking her blood will make him more powerful. When Sam eventually arrives to find Dean unconscious and beaten by Alastair, who’s on the verge of defeating Castiel as well, and he uses the demonically-given powers that Uriel and Castiel-- not to mention Dean-- had been warning him off of all season long to literally save the day. Talk about positive reinforcement of a massive objectively Morally Negative behavior, you know?

Cas stands appalled when Sam proudly tells Alastair that he’s become strong enough to kill with his powers, and then proves it by killing Alastair.

The thing is, based on the information they had at the time, ALL of their actions seemed morally justifiable. They had goals they’d established in the name of the good of the entire world. Their INTENTIONS were GOOD. And they literally paved the road to Hell by the end of the season.

So, no, the entire fandom hasn’t suddenly flipped our collective morality in justifying any of their actions in season 13. We as the audience are being given more information upfront this time around, underscoring the dramatic irony of some of their objectively morally grey choices, but the characters’ beliefs that they’re all acting with Good Intentions is easier to deconstruct when we have more of the puzzle pieces to work with than we did in s4 (or s6, or s8 for that matter…).

We’re not being show a more morally corrupt or objectively shady version of TFW. We’re just in on the season’s irony so that we can see their good intentions go so horribly wrong in real time instead of only with the benefit of hindsight.

I’m just really tired of holding up s13 TFW up against past seasons and refusing to recall just how bad most of their intentions have gone in the past.

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.3)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Three) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 2,963 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior

Part Two || Part Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Tony had left Y/N back at home after leaving the beach. He made sure she was settled back at his mansion, after he had had his face settled between her thighs that is. That was a surefire way to get her to relax and he cherished the taste of her on his tongue, inhaling the scent of her. It had done the trick well enough, and he had encouraged her to take a warm bath. She was confused at where he had to go at the hour, but he had assured her it would not take long, and he would be back before she knew it. She was rattled, he could tell, about the whole ordeal at the boardwalk. But she was acting tough, and he had to admire her resiliency. It was going to make her a good wife and hopefully mother in the future.

The tunnel he was walking down was dank and had an off smell about it. What he had ordered could not happen on his property, so this was the next best bet. It was secluded, in a seedy part of the city. Cops were around but they were preoccupied with things above ground.

He was met outside the room by Happy who had arrived before him. “It’s all ready, boss.”

“Good,” Tony clipped. “I’m assuming we have a dumpsite already?”

“That’s taken care of.”

Tony patted Happy’s cheek. “I can always count on you.”

He strode past him into the room, the smile falling from his face at the sight. The two men his guards had caught were chained up to the wall. The guys had already been beaten by his men, their faces dripping blood, deep bruises along their abdomens. But they had been kept conscious according to Tony’s instructions. He wanted to deliver the final blows himself personally. Anyone who tried to dare lay hands on Y/N, whisk her away from him… he had bloodthirst on his mind.

“Remember me?” Tony asked sarcastically, taking off his jacket, tossing it towards one of his men who caught it before it could fall to the ground.

The men were blabbering, eyes swollen, lips swollen. They just wanted it to end. Tony snickered at the thought. He had an array of tools at his disposal to make sure this would last longer and draw the pain out for them.

At the end of it, when their hearts had finally stopped, he looked all the look of a serial killer. His t-shirt was blotted with blood, a wicked smile at seeing the work he had done on them, still hearing their pained screams. His fists were bloody. He never touched people like this but since it was for her…

She would no doubt notice and fawn over it. Win-win situation for him.

<><><>

Y/N swam over to Tony at the edge of the pool where he was reclining in a chair. He was watching her closely, thinking of how she had almost been taken from him a week ago and the thought made his stomach twist. He needed to protect her always, keep her safe for not only herself but him.

She pulled herself up enough out to rest on her elbows, her feet kicking below the water. He liked the suit she had chosen; it flattered her. Not that much did not flatter her. He would be hard pressed to find anything that would make her unattractive to him.

She pouted, “Are you sure you’re not going to come in?”

Tony stuck out his bottom lip, mocking her. “No, baby.”

“But why not?”

“Because I like watching you.”

Her smile was all flavors of seductive, “I thought you liked touching me.”

“Cheeky,” Tony chuckled, and she shrugged, looking proud of herself. He brought his vodka to his lips, taking a long swig.

“I was thinking…” she said catching his attention again. “We could have some fun. If you came to sit on the side of the pool…”

Tony chuckled again at her insinuation, his mind picturing her perfect lips around the head of his dick. “Are you insatiable?” She began removing her top and he held out his hand, laughing. “Y/N, darling. Rhodey should be here any moment.” She pouted again, hesitating. “As much as I would love that… those goods are for me, hmm?”

“Always,” she returned, straightening herself back out. She whined, “But why are you always having to work?”

“It’s not always. Don’t be overdramatic, kitten.”

“I can’t help it,” she grumbled.

Tony pushed his sunglasses down, peering at her over the top of them. “I’ll make it up to you. I bought a new toy.” She brightened at that and he grinned in response. “It’s sure to keep things fresh. Plus… I do owe you a night out, don’t I? Let’s make a date out of it.”

“Saddle Peak Lodge?” Tony’s brow furrowed and she shrugged. “I got bored, and I was looking at food places around here.”

“Sure. Whatever you want,” Tony said sincerely, taking another drink.

A song came on and she immediately smiled mischievously at him. “Oh, look, it’s our song.”

“Our song?” Tony asked, his lips upturned in a smirk.

She nodded.

He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past He doesn't mind I have a L.A. crass way about me He loves me, with every beat of his cocaine heart

“I’m even swimming and you’re watching,” she said, biting her bottom lip before pushing away from the side. She drug her eyes away from him before diving back underneath the water. Tony’s eyes followed her through the water, listening to the lyrics of the song she had deemed theirs. He would chase her all over town, that was for sure.

<><><>

On Tony’s laptop, Y/N’s location of her phone popped up. He saw it was in The Flats and his teeth gritted as he realized where she was.

“That’s Liam’s place,” Tony said out loud, in disbelief.

Liam had been her friend first, even though he was Tony’s employee. Liam was one of the guards at the escort service. And he was one of the highest paid of Tony’s employees there. He was good at what he did and also helped Tony dole out physical prowess on special assignments that needed it. But he had an admittedly soft spot for the girls in the service, Y/N especially when she was still working there. He had seen it himself, Liam making sure she was comfortable and giving her attention. It had made him jealous at first but when he realized Y/N had no interest in him, he had brushed it off. She was oblivious to his adoration, something Tony had actually found amusing when he realized it.

The fact she had decided to hole up with him and that Liam had actually agreed to it… Tony felt a huge flame of betrayal. He had treated Liam well, had he not? Why this backstabbing when it was clear as day Y/N was doing something wrong?

Happy asked from the front seat, “What did you say?”

Tony snapped, closing his laptop roughly, “She’s at Liam’s. That… fucking prick. Anything to try to get close to Y/N.” Tony chewed on his bottom lip and grabbed his phone again, his temper flared. He texted furiously. “Looks like someone is going to get a promotion tonight. And I’m losing one of my best because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

<><><>

Nine months ago…

Tony strolled in from the balcony, adjusting his sleeves. He had gone out for some air, leaving Y/N inside with the other Avengers. He spotted her sitting on one of the couches, Steve nearby. Steve was amused by whatever Y/N had said, his smile wide and her quickly explaining something. He made his way back over, coming to her side just as she finished.

“Cap,” Tony greeted him.

“Tony,” Steve returned, still laughing lightly.

Y/N was all smiles still. “You didn’t tell me Steve was so funny.”

“I didn’t know I had to. Rogers is usually the stick in the mud,” Tony quipped.

“She’s merely amused at my complete inept at cultural references,” Steve said, smiling warmly again in her direction.

“It’s actually quite embarrassing for him.” Y/N quipped, much to Steve’s amusement. “But we can forgive him. Just like we forgive you for your sarcastic jokes, Tony.” Y/N perked up and said, “You guys don’t have drinks. Let me fix that.”

She walked off and Steve leveled Tony with a look. Tony cocked his head, “What? You’re looking at me all self-righteously.”

“Is she…?”

Tony did not have to work hard at figuring out what Steve was trying to get at. He snorted at Steve’s prude response to her and being unable to outright ask if she was a prostitute. “Was,” Tony corrected. “Actually, worked for my service. She’s shaped up quite nicely, I would dare to say.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “She plays the part well. Charming. Polite.”

“What gave it away, pray tell?”

Steve snorted and said, “Honestly? She’s too pretty for you to be your wife.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.”

The two of them were sharing a laugh as Y/N walked back up.

“Plus, the service,” Steve said under his breath, seeing she was carrying two glasses for them specifically and none for herself.

“Quite the whole package,” Tony said in a normal volume and she looked at him expectantly as she held out the glasses to them. Tony merely leaned forward giving her a peck on her forehead. His arm snaked around her waist and brought her to his side. “She’s so well behaved.”

“Because that’s the only thing that matters,” Y/N replied teasingly, tapping him on the nose, earning a wide grin in response from him and a kiss.

<><><>

One leg hooked over your opposite knee, you settled back further on the couch cushions. Liam had fallen asleep further down the couch to a movie and you were speaking quietly on the phone to Xavier. “Yeah, I made it home. I just don’t understand—”

You yelped at the sound of the front door being kicked in down the hall. You scrambled, dropping the phone as Liam jumped up, half asleep still. He was looking around wildly and even in his confusion, threw himself in front of you, blocking you from direct line of the hall. You looked over your shoulder frightened, taking in the tall wall of windows.

When the first man walked from the hallway into the wide room, you relaxed, immediately recognizing him. Then reality hit you again and you realized the only reason he would be here. He was one of Tony’s and you knew what was at the end of this, your heart pounding with each one that walked in. The next three you recognized too.

Lastly, Tony came striding in and you exhaled shakily, releasing the breath you did not know you had even been holding in anticipation of him. You had not been on this side of his anger before and the mere sight of him was threatening. In his tailored jacket and slacks, his gleaming watch… he was everything the mob boss you knew put fear into other people’s hearts. He was here on business, not pleasure. His body was completely tense, his eyes focused in on Liam and you standing in the middle of the living room. You swallowed sharply, your resolve wavering under his ferocious gaze, cursing yourself internally for making him so mad.

No one was moving and time seemed suspended. The thing that drew you back to reality was Xavier was still trying to talk to you on the phone on the floor. You swept down to pick it up.

“I’ll call you back. It’s fine. Love you,” you told him quickly, before hanging up and tossing your phone beside you on the ledge. Tony’s jaw set at the last phrase uttered and you had said it without even thinking. It was not abnormal to say it to Xavier but now was definitely not the time. You informed him stiffly, “It’s my gay friend. You know. The one you think I slept with in Seattle? Who is not interested in pussy at all?” Tony was not saying anything, just glaring daggers through you, which further set you on edge. His men were standing at attention and your gaze swept over them before landing on him again. Maybe if you just went without a fight now, it would be okay. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep up the façade that you had not pressed him past his patience and everything was just going to pan out. “God, FINE. I’m coming! You didn’t have to be so dramatic.”

Tony held up a hand, stalling your movement, throwing you off balance. Your feet settled back on the ground, coming to a stop by Liam’s shoulder, waiting for his next movement. His gaze flicked to Liam, who was looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Who called who?” he asked in an eerily calm voice.

“W-what?” Liam stammered.

“Who. Called. Who?”

Liam shot you a look, nervous at being under Tony’s scrutinizing and threatening shadow. You gave him a slight nod and Tony noticed, his jaw clenching at the interaction. At the solidarity. You had a sinking feeling that was a huge misstep.

“She called me.”

“She called you,” Tony said slowly, eyes boring into you now.

There was jealously swimming in his eyes that you had called someone else – another man – instead of him. That had been your intention hadn’t it? To make him jealous. But now that it was coming to fruition, all you felt was dread. He tore his eyes away from you to look back at Liam.

“So, your first instinct wasn’t to, I don’t know, call me?” Tony asked. “Ask me if you should go picking my little, darling wife up from the airport?” Tony took a few steps closer, all swagger in his step. “That didn’t cross your mind, Liam?”

Liam admitted, nervousness apparent, “No, sir. I knew you were fighting.”

“You knew we were fighting.” Tony’s tone was condescending.

“Yes.”

“And what? You were just going to pick her up from the airport, bring her here. And then what?”

“She asked to stay the night. And she said she was going to leave in the morning. Early. 6am I think is the time she told me. So she could go back home to you.”

Tony threw you a taunting look, “Hmm, back to me. Seems like that’s what she’s been avoiding actually.” You opened your mouth, but he cocked his head, the playfulness from seconds ago again. You closed it. Tony directed at Liam, “Who employs you?”

“You, sir.”

“So, you would think it would behoove you to fall back on that relationship rather than catering to the wife. I mean, she’s not the one your indebted to, is she?”

“Tony, I—” you tried to cut in.

“Shut…” Tony said, his eyes not leaving Liam, his finger held up to you stiffly. “Your fucking mouth, Y/N. I’m not talking to you.”

“How many friends of yours have I killed?” Tony deadpanned at Liam. You did not like where this was going.

“Um, zero. I think,” Liam said, sweat visible on his forehead.

Tony narrowed his eyes slightly and looked back at one of his men. “Is that right? I haven’t killed any of the men at the service?” His eyes swept over his personal guards and they all shook their head. Tony’s eyes snapped back to Liam and he looked thoughtful. “Huh. That’s surprising. But…” he closed the space between the two of them and you had to admire that although Liam looked nervous, he did not back away. “Then again, none of them betrayed me like this.”

Before Liam could react, Tony’s arm lashed out and his hand closed in around his neck. Liam winced at Tony’s fingers digging into his windpipe, squeezing tightly. Tony yanked Liam close and hissed into his ear, “I know how you feel about her. I’ve seen it. And the fact you thought you could get her here… get a foot in—”

“That wasn’t it!” Liam interrupted nervously.

“You’re a terrible liar. And I’m sick of people lying to me,” Tony snarled, letting go of Liam roughly, causing him to lose his balance. Tony backed off from Liam and snapped in your direction. “Grab your shit, Y/N.” You faltered, apprehension freezing you to the spot. He suddenly shouted, “Now!”

That got you to jump to action.

As you grabbed your phone and your small bags, you heard movement behind you and whipped around in alarm. You screamed when the first hit was laid across Liam’s face. Tony had stepped back and his men had come forward.

Tony had a vice like grip on your arm, yanking you sideways back towards the hall.

“Tony!” you pleaded panicked, trying to look over your shoulder as he dragged you away at where Liam was surrounded by the four men, punch after punch laying into his face and body.

He stopped, jolting you. He forcibly turned you, so you could look back at the scene in the living room, pointing at it. “This is your fault,” he spat at you. He wrenched you to him, his breath hot on your face. His eyes were wild as he told you, “Next time, think about what you’re doing when you go around trying to piss me off. Because anyone that sees Liam’s face after this is going to do that thinking for you. No one is going to want to help you when you’re being a little brat!” His fingers dug in and you winced. “And your punishment hasn’t even started yet, kitten.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21

Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls 

[hubba-bubble-otaku]

LONG post warning:

Not_So_Random ATLA theory:

I don’t know if I’m the only one who thinks this... but we all know Ozai had absolutely no problem with killing Zuko after firelord Azulon ordered him to do so as punishment. We all know Ozai is evil as can be. So evil he shouldn’t even have the luxury of being sent to hell because all he would do is try to practice getting his firebending back. He even tried to send an assassin on Ursa’s ex boyfriend/fiancé when he thought she was writing letters to him. So yeah, evil asshole (along with many other very explicit names). SO I AM HERE TO ASK THIS: is it plausible to believe Lu Ten may not have really died in battle, but Ozai sent an assassin to kill him?

When you think about it, every character in ATLA had some level of depth to them and served in some way to the overall story. So Lu Ten –the son of General Iroh/the Dragon of the West/one of the most powerful fire benders– Lu Ten just dying in battle seems a little too simplistic.

The idea that Ozai hired someone to make sure Lu Ten did not return from battle... if Ozai didn’t use a fire nation native as the assassin (sit the f*ck down Sparky Sparky Boom Man)

it wouldn’t be a stretch to say Ozai could’ve had a few corrupt earth benders in his contacts.

BUT REALLY,

Azula was able to easily turn the dai lee, so Ozai could have probably easily proposed some gold/land to a few corrupt earth benders if not a fire nation native (and then probably instead of delivering said gold/land either had them executed or thrown into the Boiling Rock). Regardless, for the remainder of this post, let’s entertain the idea Ozai might have had his nephew assassinated. Why? Ozai not only hated his brother as a person (even before Iroh found enlightenment through the spirits) but Ozai was also consumed by jealousy because Iroh was the first born And favorite son AND the last one to be able to earn the title ‘Dragon’ because Iroh ‘killed’ the last living dragon. Ozai has always been second son, second in line for the throne, with no cool title like dragon⬇️

BUT Lu Ten is born - meaning Lu Ten is now second in line for the throne and Ozai is pushed back to third. Lu Ten was obviously older than Zuko so we can assume Lu Ten was born before Ozai and Ursa were arranged to be married.

The only reason Azulon even sought Ursa (granddaughter of Avatar Roku) out was probably because Azulon needed his second son to hold some type of significance.

Azulon to Ozai (probably):“Marry the granddaughter of the last avatar, give me some above average grandchildren, and you won’t be completely insignificant to me Ozai” (sadly I imagine that being the most FatherSon talk those two would ever have) - so Ozai obviously hated Zuko, liked(?) Azula, and hated Iroh and Lu Ten by association for being in his way of the throne along with Azulon. Is it completely crazy to believe Ozai sent some sort of assassin after Lu Ten, and ordered the assassin to make it seem like a ‘died in battle’ type of death? Assuming Iroh’s wife is dead because we never see her; I think she died in childbirth - Ozai KNEW that Lu Ten was the most important person in Iroh’s life, without question.

Ozai KNEW it would DESTROY his brother if Lu Ten died.

If Lu Ten is dead, Ozai would be second in line for the throne again. If Iroh was destroyed emotionally/psychologically, because of his only son’s death and deemed unfit to rule, Ozai himself has a higher chance of being next in line after Azulon dies. All Ozai cared about was the throne and the power that came with it. Think back to right after Lu Ten died. Zuko’s flashback in ‘Zuko Alone’ where they were all in Azulon’s chambers and Azulon told Ozai

“Say what it is you want. Everyone else go.”

Remember not just the proposal Ozai made, or the incredible performance by Mark Hamill, No. I want you to remember the tone and specific word choice / phrasing Ozai used in the following proposal :::

Ozai: Father, you must have realized as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh’s bloodline has ended. After his son’s death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se; and who knows when he will return home? But I am here father; and my children are alive.”

Azulon: “Say what it is you want.”

Ozai: “Father, revoke Iroh’s birthright. I am your humble servant; here to serve you and our nation. Use me.”

Azulon: “You dare suggest I betray Iroh? My firstborn? Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough; but you? Your punishment has Scarcely BEGUN!”

Azula quoting Azulon to Zuko: “Your punishment must fit your crime. You must know the pain of losing a firstborn son... by sacrificing your own.”

Zuko⬇️:

AND OZAI WAS GOING TO FREAKING DO IT WITHOUT QUESTION! HIS FIRSTBORN AND ONLY SON. This example alone proves that Ozai has no problem killing family (the fact he takes Ursa up on her offer for her to kill Azulon with an untraceable poison in exchange for Zuko’s life is only further proof of this).

(gives Ursa the biggest “Mother’s Day” - “Thank You” card in existence for not only putting up with a psycho husband BUT ALSO committing mega treason - all for her baby boy 💋 love you Ursa)

OKAY! I know I’ve gone into many tangents and gotten off topic maybeee one too many times with this -

BUT MY POINT IS :

there is no real reason in my mind that Ozai wouldn’t be diabolical enough to (and most likely did) intricately plan Lu Ten’s assassination all for his own personal gain. AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS IS PROBABLE?

[kryptsune]

Souly Damned Saturdays!~

🌼Hello everyone! I am excited to share the next SD Saturday! Today is going to be how the Infernal Realm is set up and a profile on one of my favorite boys, Val. This is going to be a huge one! Let’s get into it! If you have any questions please ask away! There is so much to this world and it’s characters that I don’t want to overwhelm people. *again stunning chibi of my boy Val by @little-noko​ >////< I love it so much*

~Prince Profile:~

True Name: Valruth Alias Names: Valentine (Val) Nicknames/Titles: The Bloodstained Beast Soul Flower Type: Rose in half bloom          Color Type: Ruby with burnt petals Infernal Hierarchy: 2nd Prince of Lust Age Order: 5th Oldest Familiar Form: White Maine Coon/ (Hellcat) True Form Appearance Description:          ~Skeletal in appearance           ~Prominent fangs (spiked teeth in true form)           ~Ruby pointed tongue          ~Black horns that are reminiscent of the stereotypical devil           ~Skeletal claws          ~Clawed feet          ~Spaded bone tail with charcoal gradient          ~Golden Fang          ~Bone damage (cuts) on forearm, ribs, spine, shoulder blade          ~Bone and black feather wings (mix)

  Human Form Physical description:          ~Hair color: White/ cool platinum         ~Hair style: slicked back (before modern and reminiscent of the 1920′s)         ~Eye color: Ruby/ reddish brown         ~Skin tone: Pale         ~Contract symbol mark placement: his left shoulder blade         ~Height: 5′9 

Special Abilities or Powers: 

        ~Mind reading         ~Can pull out deepest desire         ~Dream walking         ~Mental suggestion         ~Levitation         ~Teleportation         ~Fire element         ~Veritas (forces those under his influence to tell the truth)         ~Lust touch         ~Blood vitality/ power         ~Servitude         ~Calming/ paralysis touch

(more below the cut!)

~SD Q AND A (These are all questions from you! Specifically those in my server):~

1. What is vals usual duties as a prince of hell? Does he have hobbies he enjoys doing? Does he even like humans if so what does he like about them? 🔥Val has less duties as Costello because even though he is a prince he is not the head of that Kingdom. Though to be fair Costello doesn't really mind doing the work it keeps his mind occupied. Mainly it's Val's job to deal with Coven direction/communication. I mean he has hobbies but uh... those are not appropriate to mention. Remember Val's cardinal sin is lust X'D He does enjoy music so he will spend time learning different musical styles or instruments. All in all he is pretty laid back and enjoys a good time. He’s a party boy, but he will be serious if needed.   Costello's position allows Val to be kind of a hedonist. His other job is based in contracts. Most Princes don't directly deal with humans unless circumstances allow due to their past history. It's his job to essentially make sure that quotas are being met. Let's just say he prefers the Mortal Realm because he loves messing with mortals.

2. Does Val prefer like manipulating people or playing pranks more? 🔥 He enjoys manipulating people.

3. How does it feel for Val to take another's life? What did it feel like the first time?

🔥 When he first Fell he struggled with the duality of his Clelestial/Infernal blood. It's the concept of the first life he took was hard on him but the moment he looks at the blood he essentially breaks. After that he gains the nickname of Beast because he revels in the kills. Eventually, he earns the "title" of the Bloodstained Beast which is where Beast comes from. 

4. Is Val overall sure of himself or does he struggle with loads of insecurities?

🔥He is sure of himself outwardly but alone not so much. Like I said before the majority of the brothers struggle with what they used to be and what they have become. His father's influence pushed his mind to justify the horrible things he has done. When Darrius is locked away the brothers have to come to terms with the monsters they have become. 

5. Does Val ever suffer from depression?

🔥I wouldn't call it depression. It is not that severe. It is more like self doubt or regret. 

6. What does it mean to be "alive" for Val?

🔥Unlike Infernals born in that realm, the brothers still have their Celestial souls but they are badly corrupted. Being alive for him is feeling the emotions that he used to when he was a Celestial. Think of their corruption as losing a sense of self. Most think that his "highs" come from drinking, pleasure, and the usual sinful fair but that’s not entirely true.

7. Does Val struggle with who he is?

🔥It depends on what part of the timeline. In the beginning he struggles a lot until he snaps but then doesn't care at all as if his original soul has gone numb. Over the centuries he does begin to mellow out and eventually when he meets Eve he changes his tune. Even before their meeting he is far more self conscious. 

8. Do Val’s emotions of himself ever reflect on others or does he keep them tightly wound?

🔥He keeps his emotions tightly wound unless he is with someone he trusts and by god is it hard to gain any of these boys trust. They were betrayed by their father and their other family... so they have major abandonment and trust issues. 

9.  Has there ever been a time where Val considered "love" over "lust"?

🔥Yes! In fact that is what he used to be. He was a Celestial of love and affection. It is one of the reasons that I made his alias name Valentine. Eve is the love of his life and he treats her as such.

10. If the brothers get their hands on souls what do they do with them? Will each prince treat souls differently from one another?

🔥Soul wise they can consume souls for their power, which they are already ungodly powerful already. The only caveat to that is that it corrupts their souls further. Sometimes those souls end up tormenting them for a while before they fade away. Each one has a different effect depending on the soul itself not so much the one who consumes it. 

11. What happens to changelings that die? Do they become infernal beasts/imps? or does something else happen?

🔥They essentially meet a permanent end, however, I should mention that they kind of get recycled in a way? Think of it as giving the energy back to the realm. It strengthens it. There are various artifacts and runes of great power strewn throughout the realm that are powered by dead Infernal life forces.

~The Infernal Realm Info~

General Structure:

The Infernal Realm is divided into an odd configuration that would imply something along the lines of Dante’s Inferno but the rings do not consecutively branch out. In the center the Infernal Palace in the capital city of Eden rests surrounded by the homes and residences of the Infernal elite. The ring outside those gates consists of five kingdoms; Lust (being the largest of the five), Pride, Greed, Envy, and Wrath. 

The outer most ring consists of the other 2 kingdoms; Sloth and Gluttony. Lastly the outer “walls” or ring is a wasteland for lost souls that neither belong in Heaven or Hell. This is what most would consider to be Purgatory but that would be factually incorrect. The gateway to purgatory is hidden within this land's monochrome and misty forests. There are also rumors that a gateway to the other realms also lies in these woods safely guarded by Infernal Beasts with loyalty to their King. There is in fact a portal to the mortal realm in each kingdom and heavily guarded by whoever each Prince sees fit. In the beginning of their banishment the Princes began to build on the outskirts of the realm working their way inward this causes an influence on the architectural influences. The further out the kingdom the the more ancient. SO each Kingdom is influenced by a specific period in time. This also coincides with the technology seen in the kingdom. The exception are the Prince’s castles. An example of this is Gin’s Kingdom of Sloth. His kingdom is heavily ancient Egyptian based but he is obsessed with the mortal realm so he still has technology but you can only find it in his “castle”. You wouldn’t see that kind of tech outside those walls. In addition each kingdom is divided by a dangerous wasteland in order to deter souls from trying to escape kingdoms. 

The only means of travel is a railway that travels from kingdom to kingdom. The tracks move and shift (kind of like the stairs in Harry Potter) to the destination that is required. One needs a ticket otherwise you can’t get on the railway and this is generally used by Imps or the occasional changeling if they are given permission to do so. 

Darrius’ Prison (The Wasted Hollow): Darrius is locked in a very specific prison stuck in between the Infernal and the Mortal Realm. It's a cushy small cage that can only be opened by the power of the 12 Princes. There is not a living soul in it except for him. This place dampens his abilities but they all cannot be contained. He has imparted his influence in multiple ways by reaching out to mortals and demons alike. Under his instruction they have created different cults. They are currently clandestine under the New Order and the New Mortal Realm.  

Note: If it was possible to get an aerial view of the entire Infernal Realm it would look very similar to a contract symbol or in essence a seal. This is due to the railway system that connects the kingdoms together. It’s a relatively new future as the millennia have progressed but the formation of these lines is in fact in the shape of a pentagram. 

~The Kingdoms (7)~

Lust (Inner Ring)- The kingdom that used to be ruled by the current King of the Realm. The hierarchy works that each kingdom rules over a certain sin committed by those punished. The closer that they are to The Capital the richer and more prosperous. It’s era of influence is the Roaring 20′s and that can be seen in it’s more art deco styled architecture and fashion sense. The lust kingdom is ruled by Costello who is the crown prince and following that is Val. He is a prince as well but uncrowned to one of the major kingdoms (he could honestly care less).The kingdom of lust revels in opulence and is known for its material wealth and the demons here tend to be debaucherous and are known for their slave/pet dealings. In this kingdom they tend to be overly needy causing them to sate their desires with damned souls or each-other.  It is well known that nothing can really saite these demons appetites for pleasure. They do as they will but continue to follow under the rules set forth by the King. The demons of this kingdom however tend to get away with more considering their kingdoms standing. Lust also does not just account for physical pleasure but lust for things such as wealth or power are prime examples. It is rumored that the two brothers appear to be opposites in their handling of the sin. Costello being more about possession and passion while Beast is more the stereotypical lust. Out of all the kingdoms this one seems to be the “best” one to be sentenced to especially if you find yourself at the feet of its rulers. The humans here are usually taken care of quite nicely though it is also rumored that some of those souls in question do not belong in Hell at all.   Appearance wise the Lust kingdoms Castle is paved with marble and gold. It is near spotless excluding wealth and grandeur. The massive walls that hide the Castle from view are covered in thick lush green vines and flowers. They have lace like porticos that spill a strange liquid from snake-like mouths. It is said that a human that even consumes a drop of it will be subject to their demon masters will for eternity. A strong manipulative love potion in essence. The Palace gardens are almost as if they were taken from the Garden of Eden itself which is entirely possible. The further away from the epicenter of the city becomes less ostentatious though not dilapidated by any means. Many of the Infernal elite live in this kingdom commonly. 

Pride (Inner Ring)- The kingdom of Pride is ruled by Carthus and Dusk which resides in the inner ring. As such it too exudes opulence at its center. The Kingdom supplies and trains those for the Capitals personal guard as well as the demons that are considered soldiers. This is also the Kingdom of the tainted. Those that are not quite demon but also not quite human. A long time ago when demons walked among the humans in the first mortal realm they wrecked havoc. The Princes of Pride manipulated humanity so much so that they began to turn them away from their old religions so that they would worship them instead. 

In turn the two brothers (along with the Princes of the Kingdom of Greed) toyed with human souls creating Infernal half breeds. What humanity calls vampires, werewolves, and so forth. The humans began to decline at rapid numbers since those of half Infernal blood easily hunted the weak. Now they span the wasteland of Purgatory sometimes finding themselves in the Infernal or Mortal Realms.   

Humans of high status on earth are also subjected to the same kind of torment they put on others in the worst way possible. Dictators, murderers and the like in this kingdom. It is a series of mind altering and psychologically torturing pathways and darkness. The only ones that are able to navigate this kingdom are those born from it’s depths or the Princes themselves as Dusk is the one that devised this horrifying MC Esher maze. It is influenced by the Late Victorian and Edwardian period. This kingdom’s seasons and magically produced light source can vary but the majority of the time the skies resemble twilight fading into darkness as you get further away from the castle. 

Wrath (Inner Ring)- The Kingdom of Wrath is the kingdom of War and bloodlust ruled by Sokan and Azrin. This is the kingdom known as The Cell unlike the kingdom of Lust, Wrath only shows off it’s splendor near it’s castle and some of the surrounding areas. It is mostly utilized as a giant torture pit. This is where souls are sent as punishment of the most severe crimes and tortured mercilessly sometimes torn to shreds only to be revived. 

Their leader is a ruthless warden of sorts making sure that everyone obeys the laws both set forth for demon or soul. Demons sentenced to exile are also detained here in this confusing catacomb prison. It is filled with deadly traps and pitfalls to prevent escape as well. The human souls usually sentenced here were the warriors that committed atrocities without a second glance at the innocent. Those that killed children in the name of the king is an example of this. 

The Cell is also where souls are twisted beyond recognition and where most new demons are made. In this world demons are made not born and those corrupted souls become the new generation. It could take years. It could take centuries but being thrown into The Cell is a sure fire sentence into Infernal rebirth.

There are two rulers of this kingdom and as such two types of punishments. While Boss rules over the Pit, Azrin is his little torture aficionado. Those sentenced are usually the type of killers that were mentally undone. Ones that took a sick twisted pleasure in their artistry. Those are usually brought from the outside. Their ruler, Azrin, is what one might call… unhinged at best. They are known for their experimentation attempting to twist mortal souls into whatever is desired... following in the footsteps of his older brothers. 

Greed (Inner Ring)- The kingdom of Greed is unlike any other kingdom as it houses an insurmountable number of souls within it (even if they don’t last long). It’s influence is the High Gothic Period, just think Dracula’s castle and forest. The ruler of Greed, Crimson, is a ruthless warlord with an unusual thirst for blood and not in the war hungry way. It’s second Prince, Grimm, enjoys torturing souls himself and will generally set up elaborate hunts to that end. 

It’s alternate title is that of the Kingdom of Blood. Those unfortunate souls forced to end up in such a horrible kingdom will find themselves subject to experimentation or unwinable hunts. Crimson was the one that started all of this half breed creation along with Carthus and Dusk. Though there were many creatures that came about through this experimentation Crimson and Grimm are specifically tied to two infernal blooded hybrids. The two brothers are most likely where the vampire and werewolf mythology stem from.   

Both brothers continue to play with their human “toys” as they did so long ago. They enjoy the thrill of hunting down those sentenced and revel in their success. Crimson prefers the opulence and riches that his sin provides while Grimm is more down to earth. It may account for his more bestial nature as he has a similar animalistic inclination like that of his youngest brother Ouro.  

Envy (Inner Ring)- This is the kingdom that trains and outsources spies as well as assassins. Demonic hitmen used to gain political power among their respective kingdoms. They are known for their thieves mostly stealing from their neighboring kingdom of greed, specifically souls.  Envy is known as the shadow kingdom usually housing those souls of the occult and black magic. Those that tried to obtain the unobtainable through magical or demonic means like that of Hedge Witches. 

Sanneth does not take kindly to this as these souls are tortured for all eternity forced to relive and conjure their own worst fears or transgressions. A never ending nightmare would be an apt description. Like his younger brother Dusk, Sanneth does not embrace his sin as much as the others. His abilities reflect his more Celestial blood but alas he is a Prince and therefore a kingdom he must rule. 

Sanneth also happens to be the twin brother of Carthus and the two are constantly at odds. He believes that they can conduct their “duty” without fulling turning into monsters while Carthus revels in his corruption. The 4th eldest prince’s envy could stem from his desire to return to how he once was. The castle rests in a season of eternal Spring influenced by the Japanese Edo period.

Gluttony (Outer Ring)- Those that are placed into this kingdom as punishment are subjected to torture of starvation and thirst. The princes castle is surrounded by a never ending desert with no hope for food or drink. Souls are forced to starve wandering this desert for the rest of eternity. The demons banished into this place feast on mortal corpses that fall, tearing them to pieces like scavengers. 

When the sun sets these mortals end up back where they started in one piece having to endure the same torture over and over. Ouro the ruler of his kingdom does not do much in the way of duty. He tends to delegate his jobs to other lower level demons. If a mortal manages to cross the desert the torture is with standing. Any food will turn to ash in their mouths and any water will burn the throat. It is an endless never quenchable thirst and hunger. It’s influence is that of Mesoamerica such as the ancient Maya and Aztec civilizations.  Sloth (Outer Ring)- Sloth is the final kingdom before the Outer Ring. It is “ruled” by Prince Gin though no one could actually tell you what it takes to maintain the kingdom as he tends to delegate everything to his Dukes. 

The souls here are never allowed to rest, forced to work the land for food production. Which is hilarious because food does literally nothing for demons. Ok hilarious in a cruel sick way. The Infernal Princes do like to have their feasts and lavish parties but that food is very different. In essence mortals are forced into a constant state of fatigue. Never able to drink, eat, or most of all sleep.

Gin tends to be selectively lazy but he has a fascination with the modern mortal world and tends to spend a lot of his time acquiring items from there. The poor boy has insomnia so he rarely sleeps since he is so enthralled with his game systems. He is very much a pop culture nerd at times and if you can get on his good side you will find that is probably one of the softer of the Princes. He likes a good time, oh and junk food... lots of junk food. The influence for this kingdom is ancient Egyptian as alluded to earlier since both of the Outer Ring Kingdoms are surrounded by a seemingly never ending stretch of desert. 

(That’s it for this week! I hope that gives you all kind of an idea how the Infernal realm works. This is jus the basics and if people are more interested in this I will go into more detail. That is what the ask box is for!)  << PREV  | FIRST |  NEXT >>

[fandompitfalls]

Fandom, Misogyny, and the Struggle for "Clarice"

Originally posted 2/24/21

There’s a quote that, summarized, says, in order for a woman to be seen as an equal to men, she has to work twice as hard. And never more what that brought to light outside real life than Valentine’s Day weekend when CBS aired the premiere of Clarice.

In 1991, Silence of the Lambs, a runaway hit thriller staring Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins came onto public consumption and introduced the world to the phrase “quid pro quo” and the name Hannibal Lecter became a well-known name.

In 2013, a series by the name of Hannibal staring Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy premiered on television and was immediately embraced by the fandom community.  Dating long before Silence of the Lambs, the show features a BSU consultant by the name of Will Graham who is called into service because of his unique ability to profile serial killers.  He develops a professional and later, a personal relationship with Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

In the beginning the question of Will’s mental state was brought up, the reason Lecter was introduced into the series, he was hired on assess Will Graham after cases to make sure his fragile mental state was not deteriorating.  It allowed Hannibal to get close to Will and manipulate him in an attempt to turn Will into a killer like himself.  The show ended after three seasons and during those seasons, the show’s creator, Brian Fuller, made cinematography magic with his sets and scenes, a lot of them gruesome yet exquisite.

Hannibal became fandom’s gory darling, the relationship between Will and Hannibal being the main fodder. This was furthered by the support of Bryan Fuller’s comment in Collider stating that he saw Hannibal as being in love with Will Graham. https://collider.com/bryan-fuller-hannibal-silence-of-the-lambs-interview/

Just this past week, a new twist on the Silence of the Lambs timeline premiered with Clarice. Clarice takes place a year after Silence of the Lambs and the Buffalo Bill murders. She is pulled from the BAU and sent to a task force run by Ruth Martin, the mother of Buffalo Bill’s only surviving member, Catherine.  Created by Alex Kurtzman and Jenny Lumet, Clarice is not affiliated with Hannibal, the Series, in any way, rather, it is a telling of Clarice Starling’s story after the events of Silence of the Lambs.

Here’s where it differs. And remember, this is only the first episode.  By the time I post this, there will be two episodes out.

In the opening scene, Clarice Starling is sitting in a therapist’s office.  The therapist, a man with no name as of yet, is trying to get her to tell him about her feelings regarding the one-year anniversary of the Buffalo Bill murders.  He even has a copy of a magazine that features her on the cover with the title “Bride of Frankenstein.”  The more he pushes the more she holds back, telling him the rots answers that most FBI therapists want to here.  Finally, she mentions the magazine was bought by him as a trigger to see if she would break and he tells her that he thinks she’s not stable enough to go back in the field because she refuses to use to the “survivor” in relation to her encounter with Buffalo Bill.  She is not a survivor, she was never kidnapped, she was an FBI agent doing a job.  He also cites her relationship with Hannibal Lecter, insinuating that it was more personal in nature than he thought necessary.

Before he can put her at a desk, she is called back into the field by Ruth Martin and put under the team led by Paul Krendler, a man who Clarice “upped” in the movie when she was a trainee.  He doesn’t want her there, insists on a profile after seeing the first two bodies and when she can’t give an accurate one because she doesn’t have all the evidence, he tells her she had to tell the press it’s a serial killer.

It’s already shown that Clarice has a bit of trauma with press conferences and this is something that keeps coming back.  The press want Clarice and Paul Krendler just wants her to be the face of his team and tells her that she will say what he tells her to say.  Clarice is not taken seriously by Krindler, by anyone else in the office, (there’s a scene where men from the other unit that share an office, coat her desk drawer with lotion and leave that lotion and a basket in the drawer and then laugh about it).  Clarice is blocked at every turn by men, even her therapist calls Krindler and tells him to bench her because he’s worried about her mental state.

The first time we meet Will Graham, his mental state is mentioned as tenuous, yet the FBI have no problem throwing him right out into the field.  Clarice was a trainee who managed to catch a serial killer, and somehow she’s considered too “fragile” to be put on any cases other than desk jobs.  In fact, throughout the entire first episode, the only person on her new team to take an interest and believe what she says is Thomas Esquivel, an ex-special forces soldier turned agent who believes in what she says.

From the first moment of this show the misogyny was right out on view, there is no hiding that all of the men in this show do not like Clarice because she’s young, she’s a woman and they are intimidated by her talent.  Her only support comes from Agent Esquivel and her friend and former trainee Ardelia Mapp.

I mention the misogyny because it’s not all on the show. It’s from the fans as well. The first time I was reminded the show was on was when I noticed Hannibal was trending on Twitter. The day and time frame Clarice aired its premiere, Twitter was lamenting that they wanted a season four of Hannibal.  While researching for this blog, I used IMDB to get names and plot points.  And came across this comment about the premiere:

“Can we bring back Hannibal, please?

12 February 2021 | by [redacted]

And by that I am of course referring to the excellent series featuring Mads Mikkelsen's amazing portrayal of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. That series had great style, fantastic atmosphere, and stellar directing, editing, and acting. They planned to tell the ultimate Hannibal Lecter story but only were able to make three seasons out of a seven season plan. So, here we have a Clarice Starling series that had been in the works for years but didn't get the train running till now. So the premiere - Meh. Rebecca Breeds makes a very good Clarice but nothing else is up to her level. The cinematography isn't bad but the atmosphere is lacking, the characters are none too memorable, and the storyline isn't attention grabbing enough. I give it about a season at least.”

I don’t know the time when this posted, but I’m not surprised by the comment at all.  Comment and review bombing seems to be the way that fans express their “disappointment” about their old shows not getting anything…or rather, their favorite male characters not getting more screen time.

On the same page, the below link was posted.  This was one day after the first episode of Clarice premiered:

Clarice: Season Two? Has the CBS TV Series Been Cancelled or Renewed Yet? 13 February 2021 | TVSeriesFinale

A freshman series about a female criminal profiler who is pushed down, ignored, harassed because of her sex.  It’s almost a case of life imitating art.

I was going to leave this post as it was and post it today but last week the second episode aired which showed Clarice pushing past childhood trauma to face down a cult leader and a corrupt government system thereby earning Krendler’s respect and her position on the team.  And while Thomas Esquivel told her that a team is only good if each of its members understand that they can trust and support one another, thereby hopefully foreshadowing that this team will eventually accept Clarice as one of their own and in turn she will do the same, it took her risking her life by going back inside the compound, disregarding orders and singlehandedly getting the information needed to put both the cult leader and head of the County Sheriff down for the count for Krendler to finally see her worth and decide to keep her on the team.

I liked Clarice.  It was hard to watch at times, not only because of the trauma she is dealing with as well as the survivor, Catherine, calling her and harassing her, but because of the anger I felt watching Clarice get stepped on time and time again by the men in this show, only to get up and do her job.  Her final speech she makes at the end of episode one about her grandmother is inspiring and gives the viewer a bit of a “in your face” to the men behind her, especially Krendler…even though we all know he’s going to make her life a living hell when they get back to the office because she didn’t follow his rules.  That said, this show is very much a procedural, much like CSI or Criminal Minds. The series follows the format of the movie.  This is not Hannibal.  It’s not trying to be Hannibal, It is trying to be Clarice.  And, as the quote goes, it’s going to have to work twice as hard to even get one half of the respect it deserves.

[urlneverheardofit]

The Black Prince and the White Lion

I’m realizing I’ve never actually posted any of my work to this website and figured I should, so here’s a little excerpt from my latest piece. Note the most intense this portion gets is sex jokes,’the talk”(tm) Dragon edition, and a make-out session sooo yeah.

Chapter 1: The Black Prince

The Black Prince. Such an honorable title for such a hated position.

Dragon,

Son of a mad king,

Last of his kind.

The Black Prince had a lot stacked against him when it came to his reputation, even more so because of the madness and corruption that ran in his blood.

Still, Wrathion did his best to alleviate the concerns of his other draconic kin. After all, Neltharion was not the only dragon aspect to go mad. Malygos too followed in that path, the madness manifested differently but the Nexus War was plenty of evidence to be a testament to Malygos' fall. As well as the Aspect of Time, who had gone mad in an alternate timeline. The Earth Warder, The Spell Weaver, and The Infinite all fallen to the insanity of one kind or another.

Yet all the other dragon aspects. Hell, the entirety of Azeroth, looked at him with disdain, anger, and even fear in some cases. When Wrathion had been younger, many citizens in the major cities of Stormwind and Orgrimmar had approached him, demanding compensation for the loss of their loved ones or personal effects lost in the attack on both major cities. The attacks carried out by Deathwing. Not Wrathion.

It was a relief for him that after the death of his father, the world moved on. The mystical lands of Pandaria had been rediscovered and Wrathion had swiftly moved from his makeshift lair in Onyxia’s former lair. He hadn’t hated that place as much as he had hated Nefarian’s lair.

Nefarian’s Lair had been a place where dragons had been experimented on to create abominations to further Nefarian’s plans.

The worst part was Nefarian was Wrathion’s half-brother. United by the blood of their father, who was worse than the horrible experimenter that was Nefarian. Onyxia, the brood mother, had been bad too, helping hatch the armies that later became Deathwing’s servants. His half-siblings had chosen their lairs well. The Black Dragonflight had once been noble protectors of Azeroth and their choices in lair reflected such. Neltharion had a cave deep underground somewhere on a lost island that had served as his lair for many thousands of years. Nefarian had chosen a castle fortress carved into the side of a mountain. Onyxia had chosen a cave that spiraled down for miles and miles and whose mouth was shaped like a dragon’s toothy maw.

Wrathion, on the other hand, had not yet chosen a lair, partially because he was unsure if he would grow to be the size of his father, whose wingspan had reached more than 1,000 feet long, or if he would stop about the size Onyxia and Netharion had. That would end up helping determine Wrathion’s lair, along with the fact Wrathion had not found a good lair yet. He was still traveling and learning what he could from his sibling's lairs. Many of Nefarian’s notes and discoveries could help turn the tides against any coming threats to Azeroth, but the execution was questionable at best. Some of his studies were more interested in the differences between the dragon flights. What gave them power and such, which were much more readily useful.

Onyxia’s lair served as a place for him to learn to transform back and forth from humanoid to dragon form. It was a long and painful process at first but eventually, he learned to make his humanoid form look a little more grown than his whelp form.

Though perhaps he could see why people could be a bit intimidated, he wasn't them! It wasn't fair to judge him for the crimes of his crazed kin.

His dragon form was just a whelp still, he couldn’t lie in his true form the way he could in his humanoid. His humanoid form looked like a young male human with glowing red eyes, long curly black hair, and olive skin.

“Wrathion?” A voice said from the entrance of the tavern in Pandaria that Wrathion had taken up residence in. Wrathion jolted up from where he had been reclining before, lost in thought. An orcish woman stood in the entryway, blocking out the sunlight and whoever was behind her. He could sense their movement hear their hushed voices.

“What is it Left?” He asked calmly, Left was one of his devoted bodyguards. Left was her spy name, only Wrathion knew her identity due to security concerns. Right was his other, a human woman who was gifted in the finer manipulation of tactics and war. A true spy compared to Left’s more being an obvious bodyguard.

The tavern he had taken up residence in was a small two-story building tucked away in a nearly untravelable mountain pass, keeping it hidden and mostly safe. Part of the reason why Wrathion had chosen this place to begin with.

“Someone of high importance wishes to speak with you,” Left answered.

“Me?” Wrathion cocked his head innocently. “Send them in.”

Wrathion’s confidence fell away instantly when Left stood aside revealing the King of Stormwind standing at his door.

Chapter 2: The White Lion

This was all that was left of the horrific Deathwing? Anduin peered past the shadow of his father to look at the alleged "Black Prince" and found himself quite surprised at what he found; a boy just barely younger than him staring back at him.

"The infamous Black Prince." Anduin's father began, crossing his arms over his chest.

The boy looked up at the King, his red eyes betraying none of the his thoughts. "Black Emperor now. Thanks only to the Champions of the Alliance who were responsible for the death of my father." The boy spoke plainly, eloquently and as though he was raised among royalty, not by dragons or wolves or whatever else Anduin had imagined him growing up with.

"Are you saying you'd rather that monster was still alive today?" Varian snarled.

"Of course not." The boy looked at his long black claw-like nails, brushing them off idly. "But think of it this way, I am the Emperor of my kind and I'm not any older than the little lion cowering behind you."

Anduin flinched from being called out like that. He spoke much the way that Onyxia had many years before. Nearly the same tone of voice and mannerisms but not quite intimidating enough to pull it off entirely.

"He's what I've come to speak to you about." Varian sighed glancing at Genn Greymane, king of the Worgen, who had once been humans but now were more akin to the werewolves of legend. Graymane shrugged.

"Then speak." The boy ordered.

"Anduin here has been badly injured and is being hunted by members of the Horde. I wish to leave him in the safety of a dragon's lair." The Horde and the Allliance had been at war for generations. The Horde consisted of Orcs and Trolls and other races considered to be more ‘savage’. The Alliance was majorly humans, elves and the worgen.

The boy scoffed. "This is not my lair. My lair is far from here." Anduin thought that this was a lie but didn’t quite know why.

"Well, I need him to be somewhere safe, where he won't be found unless I come back for him."

"Yet a simple human King has found me without trouble." The boy replied evenly.

"I have..." another glance was swapped between Genn and Varian. "Very good help."

"Clearly." The dragon huffed, sending smoke curling from under his lips. "And what would I get for doing you this favor?"

Varian straightened at that. Anduin knew Varian thought he was gaining some ground. "You would earn the favor of the Alliance. Or perhaps if you'd rather. We have up to a million gold we'd be willing to part with in exchange for his guaranteed health and safety."

The dragon's red eyes glinted greedily as he considered. "I want the Favor of the Alliance and a half of that gold." He replied after a moment's thought.

"Very well." Varian nodded.

"Are you crazy?" Genn barked beside Varian. "You're basically selling your son to a dragon!"

"I cannot risk him being killed by Garrosh. You'd do the same if it was Tess."

Genn snarled but backed away, allowing his king to do as he wished. Anduin couldn't help but look up at his father concerned. He had talked with Varian about this before and had agreed to it but now that it was actually happening, anxiety twitched in the pit of his stomach. "I agree to your terms dragon. The gold will be delivered to you in payments of 5,000 a week in exchange for a letter from Anduin, and I will check, with details about how he is holding up."

"and if this stay extends longer than that allotted time?"

"We can compensate for your time."

The dragon regarded Varian carefully. "Deal." The dragon said and his eyes gleamed almost as bright as the sun and Varian hissed and stumbled away from the threshold to the quaint tavern. Despite seeming like he was in pain Varian grinned.

"Dad?" Anduin asked from behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Varian smiled down at his son. "That's exactly what I hoped would happen."

"What are you on about?" Genn asked.

"A black dragon cannot go back on a promise made that way." Varian turned to Anduin, "you will be safe here."

"Promise?"

Varian set a hand on Anduin's shoulder, "I promise."

Chapter 3: Introductions

What the hells did I just agree to?? Wrathion scolded himself. Dragons were well known for their desire for large hoards and he had not realized how quickly it would come over him at the mention of a million gold. Thankfully, he had been at least coherent enough to take the favor of one of the world's major factions... but stupid enough to make it a pact. By the titans he wanted that gold. Not because he needed it but bec ause a dragon, especially a little one, would age faster in the presence of vast amounts of wealth, so it would fix a lot of his issues.

But what is done is done, and Wrathion now had to figure out what he was going to do with the lion's cub. He watched silently as the High King and his werewolf companion said goodbye to the lion cub, wishing him safety and so on. Eventually the High King urged his son to meet his host but wanted to stay behind just long enough to watch, make sure he had made the right choice.

The lion cub stood in the threshold of the inn where his father had been previously, yet he was much smaller than his father. Both in character and in body, he lacked the confidence and skill to be able to back himself up. He took one last nervous glance at Varian before he took a deep breath and faced Wrathion. "Son of Neltharion, I am honored you have agreed to help us in these trying times." The cub went to kneel before the dragon but he winced in pain and couldn't quite get one of his legs to work with him.

"Son of Neltharion..." Wrathion gave the boy a strange look, "did you know that or did you rehearse it?"

"I knew Deathwing's original name." The boy said proudly. "Many have forgotten it, but the Light has not forgotten what he once was."

"You're a priest."

"Yes." The boy winced again.

"Stop hurting yourself. Stand and tell me your name." Wrathion ordered, lounging his elbows back on the table which he had been sitting by and had turned around from to listen to Left.

The boy swallowed and stood shakily, another wince but once he got there, he was okay it seemed. "My name is Anduin Llane Wrynn." The boy said "May I ask yours?"

Wrathion tilted his head, no one had really asked him to introduce himself, many had just learned his name because of him addressing himself or whatnot. "Why do you wish to know, Anduin?"

Anduin swallowed and looked back to see what his father was thinking but the King and his werewolf, were gone. With a steadying breath, he answered, "I suspect you do not wish to live in your father's shadow. It is only polite to respect this wish as I do not wish to have my father's influence overshadow my own choices."

No wonder the kid had been hesitant to say that. Clearly the King loved his cub but then he was royalty. Anduin's path was paved largely by his father.

"My name is Wrathion, thank you, for taking into account what I wish to forget about my history." Wrathion was stunned almost out of feeling, this was a first, someone else asking him to be who he was without judgment of his father's actions. But he was grateful for this.

"Of course, Wrathion." The boy replied, he had a shaggy mane of blonde hair, bright blue eyes and wore gold and blue clothing that looked almost like armor without being armor. "What brings a mighty dragon to Pandaria?"

"I could ask you the same question," Wrathion replied.

"My father, he wishes to protect Pandaria from the savage influence of the Horde, from my understanding." Anduin explained, "your turn."

Wrathion smirked at that, "My turn? I am here to learn the secrets it has to offer. I am still young and I wish to expand my knowledge." It was not a lie per say, just part of the truth, much like Anduin’s had been.

"A noble pursuit." Anduin nodded. "If I may I would like to accompany you to some of these exploits it is my duty as the future king to know as much as I can before assuming the throne."

"Very well." Wrathion agreed. It would give him something to do with the kid. "Come and sit, let us play a game of Jihui. We have much to learn of each other."

Chapter 4: Cow Tipping and Stargazing

Anduin was nearly sixteen when the bell hit him. Everyone had thought he would never live to see through his first whole year of adulthood. Anduin, thank the Light, pulled through, and now all that there was to remind him of the incident was a birthday and bad leg that worked, to some extent, but sometimes if he tried to do more than walk with it, it wouldn't work or would be painful to work with. So taking a knee in front of the dragon as his father had instructed, had been difficult and the dragon had caught on.

"Are you alright?" Wrathion had asked when Anduin hesitantly took a seat across from him, relieved when no pain came.

"Yes, I am alright now," Anduin replied "it was an accident-" Anduin really meant attack but no need to stress the dragon out this quickly into their arrangement. "I am fully healed now, this leg just doesn't work with me sometimes."

"Your father knows about it?"

"Yes."

Wrathion nodded, his ears perked back up from where they were subtly flattened to his head, "Very well, if you need assistance with anything, let me or my guards know."

"What are their names?" Anduin asked looking at the women flanking the dragon, they were beautiful, no doubt, but they didn't really strike Anduin the way some people did.

"This is Left." Warthion signaled to the woman on his left, she was an Orcish woman with long tusks and a huge crossbow and what looked like a scimitar attached to her belt. "And this is Right." Wrathion jerked a thumb at the woman on his right, a human woman with similar gear.

"Simple enough."

"Indeed." Wrathion gave him a toothy, almost unnerving grin and thus the game of Jihui began.

Several hours of this game passed, it was quite the learning curve, and more so to try and match Wrathion move for move, but eventually, Anduin figured out some tricks to get Wrathion to feel a little too overconfident and overstep himself.

After a game, Wrathion pushed away from the table (or rather, pushed the table away from him), stretched and said: "let's go do something."

"Like...what?" Anduin replied shuffling out from under the table as well and working some cramps out of his back. He had been having fun but it was time for a break, for his... well everything's sake.

Wrathion gave him an evil smile. "We're going to go do something you've never done before." He announced proudly.

"The... future? Aren't you a Black dragon, not a Bronze?" Anduin replied sarcastically, that wasn't that specific.

Wrathion rolled his eyes, "No, somewhere in present-day I think." Wrathion looked him over a long second, "Your outfit is terrible and horribly recognizable, let's get you something... proper."

Anduin thought about being offended but then, he never much liked this outfit either and he was talking to a dragon, who were known for their fashion sense. Well, Black Dragons maybe not so much but he'd seen portraits of Ysera and Alexstraza.

Wrathion nearly seemed to fly up the stairs located in the northern corner with how fast he moved. Anduin followed at a much slower hobble, stairs had always been hard on the injury. By the time he got up to the top, he found several rooms separated by what looked like paper walls, but Anduin knew to be much stronger and more soundproof than any parchment or paper he knew of.

At the end of a hallway of about six rooms per side of the hall, a large wooden double door was open and the light was pouring out of it. Anduin approached cautiously and heard the sounds of digging, clattering and "no-no, well maybe... no actually that's horrid," from inside. Anduin poked his head through the threshold of the door and found some of the most elegant quarters he had ever seen inside. The room was bathed in light from what looked like refined lamps, but no smell of oil so Anduin didn't know what fueled the lamp. In the back middle of the room was a massive king-sized bed with a trunk in front of it, kneeling in front of it was Wrathion and a puddle of discarded clothing.

"Everything okay?" Anduin called from the door.

"Yes yes, just... come here." Anduin approached him cautiously, once he got within sight of the dragon he held up a tunic and looked between Anduin and the clothing. "Try this one." He ordered tossing the black fabric in Anduin's general direction.

"Right here?" Anduin asked, stumbling to catch the misguided tunic.

"Unless you want to pick out your chamber." Wrathion said, "but I'll likely be coming in and out anyways, I want to see how they look before I set out with you." Wrathion met his eyes for a long second unblinking. "I won't look while you change if you don't want me to."

Anduin scooted so he was solidly behind Wrathion, so the dragon would have to turn all the way around to see him before he carefully set the shirt down on a conspicuously empty table and began to pull his decorations off, golden bordered stole came first and blue shawl followed shortly thereafter. Finally, after another few moments, his shirt came off, with a final glance to make sure Wrathion wasn't looking before he did so. Tattered across Anduin’s skin was horrid scars from where the bell had smashed him, a few from where his ribs had jutted out of his chest after the initial blow and scratches from his skirmishes with the Horde as of late.

As he pulled the black fabric of the tunic over his head, he noticed that the tunic was incredibly well made and very soft, allowing Anduin to breathe and flex but not be too loose or revealing. He even suspected there was a bit of padding to serve as a small amount of amour in it. I need to find out who this guy's tailor is! He thought absently "Oh and try these!" Wrathion called tossing a heap of clothing over at him. Anduin jumped away from them as they clattered to the floor. Lifting them up he found it also had a black bead necklace, which he put on. The other cloth object was a set of linen pants but also finely made from first brush of his fingers against it.

Another look was cast at Wrathion before Anduin dared begin the process to change into these. Seeing that the dragon was still rummaging through his trunk Anduin breathed a sigh of relief, "let me know when you're ready!" Wrathion said distantly.

Anduin's suspicions about the quality of these linen pants were correct. Just like the tunic, they fit well without crushing him and still allowed him movement.

"Are we the same size?" Anduin asked, he definitely had a similar build to Wrathion but surely not a perfect match, right?

"I don’t know, these are all enchanted to fit whoever wears them." Wrathion replied, "Can I look now?"

Anduin took a second to adjust the leather belt tossed with the rest of the clothing, "yeah you're good now."

Wrathion made a show of turning around and coming up to examine Anduin. He made several hums and noncommittal sounds that worried Anduin. "Turn around," Wrathion ordered. Anduin followed instructions and waited only a minute or so more before he had his answer. "You look good in this, well no, the belt needs to change to be black and the beads...the beads can go."

Wrathion turned and went back to the trunk and began to load all the clothing back into it, but not before pulling out the belt he was thinking of and extending a hand to indicate he wanted Anduin to hand over the items he requested. Anduin obliged and took the new belt choice. Wrathion slammed the trunk closed, flicked his wrist at it and then turned to the other prince. His red eyes glinting curiously at Anduin as he examined. "Yes, that will work." He nearly purred.

Anduin noticed he had selected another outfit as well, along with some elaborate jewelry. "You don't want me wearing that, do you?"

"You aren't nearly pretty enough to pull that off." Wrathion replied flatly, "no, I'm going to be wearing that."

"Hey!" Anduin hissed.

"I said pretty, you're plenty handsome, but it requires a certain...grace," Wrathion explained, the backhanded compliment still made Anduin's cheeks flush.

"Thanks, I think," Anduin replied and then realized a much bigger issue, "you're not going to change in here... are you?"

"This is... my chambers. So yes... I am going to change in here."

"But I'm standing right here!"

"So? You can watch if you'd like," There was a strange glint in his eyes when he said it. "Or you can walk out the door to my room."

"Oh." Anduin felt sort of stupid because of the simple solution. Hobbling out as quick as he could, jumping when he saw Left and Right standing on their respective sides of the door. Anduin had not noticed them come up the stairs, hadn't even heard them when they flanked the door. "Do you guys sleep?" He asked.

"We take shifts during the night." Right answered Left looked straight ahead.

"Which one doesn't get to sleep before Wrathion wakes up?"

"The one who isn't chatty." Left replied.

"The one whose breakfast consists entirely of coffee." Right said.

"We ready to go?" Wrathion's voice said from behind Anduin, making him jump.

"Yes." Both girls said at once.

"Where are we going?" Anduin asked again.

"You'll see," Wrathion said with a small smirk.

"Better question," Anduin continued his thought as though Wrathion hadn't said anything. "We're on a mountainside surrounded in mist, how are we getting down?"

"How did you get up?" Wrathion asked a question to reply. Nudging Anduin aside so he could squeeze past.

"Horses."

"Then you will be using horses to get down."

"Don't you mean 'we'?"

"I eat horses, not ride them." The dragon said pointedly. Descending the staircase with ease and Anduin noticed his new outfit nearly sparkled, he had golden bands looped around his ears in at least three places and his outfit was indeed sleek and elegant. His hair, curly and black, was released from the white turban it had been in all day and he smelled faintly of an expensive cologne that Anduin could not quite name. "Meet me at the docks."

***

The sun had set by the time Left, Right and Anduin made it down to the docks Wrathion had mentioned (Left and Right knew it better than he) and found Wrathion sitting on a stack of crates, "you finally made it!" He flipped his hair back behind his shoulder and slipped off the crates, landing neatly beside the group. "Leave the horses here." Left and Right slid off the horses instantly. Anduin took a second longer, wondering what they were doing here of all places he had seen a pier before.

"That's our boat," Wrathion said as a ship sailed into the harbor.

It proudly bore the Alliance flag and when it docked the caller yelled "All aboard for Stormwind City!"

Anduin shot a look at Wrathion. "I've been to my capital and my home city before!"

"I understand that," Wrathion replied. "Just... trust me." The group boarded and Anduin went to tip the deckhands a couple of silver but they all diligently refused to say that their boss paid them more than enough to help them along.

"Who's your boss?" Anduin asked a man.

"Behind you." The human replied. He seemed well educated, well-fed, ring on his finger suggested married.

Anduin turned around to see Wrathion looming behind him, not overly close, just watching Anduin interact with the crewman. "How long have you been there?" Anduin hissed.

"We are both standing on the center deck. It's not exactly a good place for private conversations." Wrathion replied.

"You own these boats?"

"Yes."

"How much do you pay them?"

"A gold piece a day," Wrathion replied. "For the deckhands. The better ones get two and promotion, my captain and first mates get five."

"Wow." Anduin was a little awed. "No wonder you need that half million."

"Oh no, I have plenty of 'inheritance' from my father to afford this and my stay at the tavern for more than a hundred thousand years. I am in no hurry for that. Most of your father's gold will go to my personal hoard."

Anduin took a seat in a nearby chair. "There's a difference?"

"Savings versus Spending money," Wrathion said taking a seat across from Anduin.

"Ah." Anduin looked up and saw his home city sprawled out before him. "Woah... that was fast!"

"We don't exactly have all night now do we?" Wrathion said standing again and gesturing Anduin and the guards to follow. As Anduin passed, he saw on the bow a person in light clothing, arcane power sparkling around their finger and then fading out. A portal?

"I'm beginning to realize I've never seen a proper harbor." Wrathion mused as he gazed around the harbor, "well, not one that's not fully owned by me anyways."

Anduin was surprised by that for a moment, before realizing Wrathion probably had not.

"Well, there's quite a large one here in Stormwind, I don't know if you noticed already."

Wrathion snorted to himself, the individual snort became something more of a laugh, "I'm sorry, maybe I just don't understand human speech very well but that just sounds like a really bad innuendo. Like 'hey baby, want to see my Harbor?"

Anduin choked on a laugh, giving Wrathion an amused glare. "Please never say that again."

Wrathion waggled his eyebrows playfully in response. "What, don't you want to park your boat in my harbor?" Wrathion teased.

Anduin whacked him on the shoulder, making the dragon laugh. "Shut up before I throw you into the actual harbor." Anduin threatened, getting an amused eye-roll in response.

"Yes, fine, your majesty." Anduin huffed in annoyance, and several moments of silence passed as they walked through the bustling streets of the city, the cathedral bell tolling in the distance.

"I do have to ask," Anduin began, "What's it like to be a dragon? Is changing into a human form like a druid shapeshift?" He could not help his curiosity. It was not very often one got to speak to a dragon, let alone one that didn't seem to mind a bit of prodding.

Wrathion shrugged. "In dragon form, you feel... powerful. Even when you're extraordinarily little."

"And changing into a human?"

Wrathion let out a long, tired groan. "Fuck that."

Anduin burst into a fit of surprised laughter. "Is it really that bad?"

Wrathion had a very tired, annoyed look on his face. "It's awful. I constantly feel like I need to stretch. I keep trying to use limbs I no longer have. Do you know how awful it is to suddenly be grounded when you've been able to fly on your own your whole life?"

Anduin laughed again at the exhausted sincerity in his voice. "I don't, but that sounds pretty annoying."

"It is!"

Anduin was giggling uncontrollably under his breath. He couldn't help it, the sheer exasperation the dragon was radiating was incredibly amusing for some reason.

"Do you want to go somewhere to stretch your wings?"

Wrathion grimaced. "I'd love to, but turning into a dragon, no matter how small, is a little, awkward in populated places."

Anduin raised an eyebrow. "That's why we do it somewhere that's not the city."

Wrathion mimicked his expression, but he had a slight smirk on his face. "You trying to take me somewhere more private, Prince?"

Anduin huffed and shoved him lightly, choosing to ignore the heat that rose to his face. "Shut up! You know that's not what I mean!"

Wrathion just laughed. After that, they engaged in idle banter until Anduin had followed Wrathion through the city to the main section of the city and down the main street, which was fairly quiet now, out into Elwyn Forest past the walls of the city onto a well-used dirt road that could lead to Northshire Abbey or Goldshire depending on which turn one took during a fork in the road.

There was a soft flutter beside Anduin and when the young priest turned to look Wrathion was gone and in his place was an itty bitty little baby black and red dragon. "Aww! You're so little!" Anduin exclaimed without thinking.

The dragon rolled his bright red eyes. "That's not what your dad said last night." Wrathion huffed. Flapping his little wings with surprising power, he plopped down atop Anduin's head, "onwards noble steed! To Goldshire!' Anduin rolled his eyes but even the dragon's voice had shrunk down with him so he had an adorable scaly kitten, who without a good comeback had no issue resorting to a 'your mom' joke. Well 'your dad' in this case but still. Anduin put on a show of sighing before he obliged the tiny dragon and began to wander towards the town, said dragon delighted that his plan had been a success.

He walked in silence for a while and as the signs pointing to Goldshire became more urgent Wrathion spoke again, "alright when we get there, don't say hi or introduce yourself to anyone. You're rather recognizable as it is!" Wrathion instructed as he flapped off, transforming back into a human. "Titans, this form is restraining." He grunted, his voice a normal pitch again as he stretched his shoulders. "If anyone asks, your name is Tress and you're passing through on your way to Redridge."

"Will anybody still be out?" Anduin ran a hand through his hair to put it back in place from where the dragon had ruffled it.

"Probably not but just in case."

"Okay then, what about you?"

"I'm Derrek and I'm an old friend of yours taking you out to my farmstead in Redridge," Wrathion replied without missing a beat.

"You think about this a lot?" Anduin quieted as the village came into sight.

"I had some time while I waited for the rest of you."

"Hey, were are Left and Right anyways?" Anduin inquired, suddenly realizing that he hadn't seen either of the girls since they docked in Stormwind Harbor.

"Staying out of sight. Orcs aren't particularly welcome in Stormwind."

"Touché." Anduin nodded, scanning the tree line but saw no movement.

Thankfully, when they reached the square of the tiny town that was Goldshire it was empty, all the residents or travelers having gone to sleep for the evening. "This way!" Wrathion whispered, taking off on a side road that led to a loggers camp some miles down.

"How much farther?" Anduin asked, his leg was starting to hurt.

"Not much," Wrathion promised, straying off the path and hopping over a wooden fence.

"I... can't do that." Anduin reminded Wrathion gently.

"Sure you can. I'll help." Wrathion scoffed, "give me the bad one." Anduin did so with some hesitation, but thankfully Wrathion was gentle in his hold and helped Anduin situate so he simply slid over the fence like on would slide off a horse. "There we go! See? Nothing to worry about!" He purred. Anduin nodded, he was grateful for Wrathion at least to have planned for or worked around Anduin's injury. Together they crept into a field with easily a hundred cows scattered about, deep in sleep.

Wrathion beckoned Anduin closer as he stood beside one of the massive animals. With a suppressed grin the dragon gently pushed the cow so it rolled onto its side. The animal blinked lazily at him and accepted this new change in position, curling up and resuming its rest. "Are you serious?" Anduin hissed under his breath. "You dragged me out here to bother farm animals? What's next? Pulling cat's tails?"

"We're not hurting them!" Wrathion retorted, "just try it it'll be fun!"

"I am not going cow tipping with you!" Anduin snapped and stalked off, going around the fence and finding a grassy hill and finding a place to sit. "By the Light, this is my babysitter?" He groaned into his hands, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Okay, okay." Wrathion's voice said as something sat next to him on the grass. "This is good too." Anduin peeked out between his fingers and saw Wrathion gazing up into the star-speckled sky. "To think, my father's wings once darkened this beautiful sky, this lush world, and tried to crush all the beauty out of it... it’s a shame. He should have been the one to most appreciate all the things there are to see in this life."

Anduin lay back into the grass, following his gaze up with Wrathion's. "I hate to ask this, but are you glad he's gone?"

"Yes," Wrathion said after a moment. "But for all the horrid things he did, he was still my father."

"I understand." Anduin nodded even though Wrathion wasn't looking at him, "I mean, I hate living in my dad's shadow, but I still love him to death and well I know he loves me. I'd be devastated if he died, even if we don't always agree on a lot of things."

Wrathion's eyes slowly drifted to Anduin, "was this bargain your father struck his idea?"

"No." Anduin replied, "It was mine."

"Why sell yourself to a total stranger?"

"I..." Anduin thought for a long time, "I hated having to look over my shoulder, having my life be on the line because of Garrosh. After my injury, I knew I could not fight off Garrosh, even if there had been any chance at all it was taken from me, I can't even run from him now. My family has had a few run-ins with the Black Dragonflight, and none of them good, but I knew you weren't like them and I wanted to try again."

"Did he fight your choice?"

"Yes, for a while." Anduin toyed with the soft fabric of his new clothing, "but he came to see that it was the best option we had."

"I see," Wrathion said and the conversation fell to silence. After a while, Wrathion stood up, "Come on. Let's go home."

Chapter 5: Fire!

Wrathion helped Anduin up with no trouble before they set off for Stormwind Harbor again.

The walk was quiet for the most part until Anduin's head perked up. "Hey, do you smell smoke?"

"It's probably-" Wrathion took a big sniff of air, it did smell like smoke and he wasn't breathing smoke or fire at all. "Me..." Wrathion trailed off and with some relief shifted into his dragon form and flapped above the treeline. Stormwind slept soundly but behind him, Goldshire had a bright light of orange around it. Wrathion landed again, transforming back into a human. "Goldshire has a fire going... a big one."

Anduin's eyes went wide, "shit, Goldshire might be on fire!" He realized and took off in the way the boys had just come from, limping because of his leg.

"What if it's not on fire? Then you've strained yourself for no reason!" Wrathion growled catching up in a single bound.

"That is a sacrifice I am willing to make to ensure the safety of my people." Anduin spat back. "If you're not with me I'll meet you at the boat if you are with me shut up and do something!"

Wrathion stared blankly at Anduin for what felt like an hour but was only a few seconds. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"You're a dragon, you should know how best to combat fire!"

"But I don't!" Wrathion complained.

"Than go get people out! You're faster than me!" Anduin's blue eyes shimmered harshly. Wrathion nodded numbly and took off in the direction of Goldshire. Left, Right I need someone to watch Anduin! He thought, touching an emerald on one of his rings.

Understood. Left replied.

Wrathion arrived in a horrible scene. The entire village of Goldshire was engulfed in flame, people were running everywhere, screaming, crying and among the chaos was...orcs

Left stay hidden, they won't differentiate between you and the enemy.

"Come out come out little prince..." One snarled in the guttural language that was Orcish. With a growl, Wrathion lept into the inn, hoping he had avoided detection. He touched the emerald again, They're after Anduin! Watch out for an ambush! Wrathion pushed off the crumbling wall and raced out of the inn, now that he had sent his message. It wasn't these people's fault the orcs were after Anduin and the attack pissed Wrathion off. They were hardly better than Wrathion’s father!

With a roar, Wrathion leaped on one of the Orcs and tore at him with sharp claws and teeth. Despite blood springing to the wounds it wasn't as effective as any of his draconic abilities might be, but his dragon form was just a bit too small to be useful in combat yet. He inhaled deeply as he saw a second orc approaching. With a snarl, he pushed off the first and as the orc stumbled to its feet in front of its friend, Wrathion unleashed his fire breath on both opponents.

While still recovering his breath Wrathion looked around. There were more orcs, no surprise but then he realized he had backed himself against the forge and two more were much too close for any of the athletic trickery he had been using. Wrathion snarled bravely at the swords that were pointed at him, he would breathe again but that wasn't something he could do twice in a row and remain standing. Plus it didn't help the burning village situation. A flash of light blinded the dragon for a second but then it faded and in its wake, Wrathion saw Anduin, light flaring in his palm and snarl bared.

"You alright?" Anduin asked keeping an eye out for more threats.

"Yes, thanks to you." Wrathion replied.

"Go get people out of these buildings! I'll deal with the orcs!" A crossbow bolt shot dangerously close to both of the boys but flew past and slammed into the skull of another orc. Both turning to see the source of this shot. Left appeared out of the shadows just long enough to take the shot before vanishing among them again. With a slight nod in her direction, Wrathion darted over to the inn once more. Wrathion didn't mind the smoke and fire that had begun to devour the building if anything he was rather comfortable in it, but he knew humans were rather... flammable. He finally caught his breath searched the basement first, the chef and innkeeper huddled behind a barrel of mead.

"Let's get you out of here friends!" Wrathion said as soon as he got far enough down the stairs to see the pair.

"The guests!" The Innkeep choked out, he had inhaled a lot of the smoke it seemed. "Some are still up there!"

Wrathion narrowed his eyes. "You," He turned to the chef, "get you both out." He gazed back at the Innkeep, "I'll get them if I can alright?" The Innkeep nodded slowly as the chef helped him to his feet. "Find the man with blonde hair outside, he'll help you."

With that, the dragon zipped back up the basement stairs and rounded the corner and leaped over the banister to get to the upstairs. A part of the roof collapsed in front of the dragon, who flung himself backward to get out of the way and nearly stumbled back down a step or two. A fire couldn't hurt the dragon but a falling log sure could.

With a huge inhale the dragon breathed in the flame, held it for a second and then let it out as a small breath before he surged over the log and finished his ascent to the upper level. One of the two rooms was blocked off by smoldering wood pieces. The other was still mostly intact. A glance over the easily accessible room revealed nothing but he felt a tugging at his pant leg. A little girl gripped him desperately. "It's okay. I'll help you out." Wrathion promised the tiny human. She nodded and carefully came out of hiding. "Where are your parents?"

"I..I don't know." The little girl whimpered.

"Alright, I'll keep looking, but let's get you out." Wrathion slowed his pace painfully to guide the little girl to the door and directing her to Anduin before he flew up the stairs again. Inhaling the flames again he began to claw at the rubble blocking the other door. He loosened the rocks as best as he could, soon he felt another set of hands working the wood. A glance over revealed Anduin kneeling beside him helping Wrathion clear some of the smaller rubble pieces so the stronger dragon could dislodge the bigger pieces. Around Anduin was a light glow of a protective bubble that Wrathion assumed was to protect the boy from the smoke. Soon the pair broke through and in the room was a small family. Father, mother, and a little boy. "Are you alright?" Both boys asked.

The little boy coughed and the parents looked frightened, having been carefully navigating the crumbling floor. "Where's Heather?" The father asked

"Outside." Anduin replied, "we'll help you out."

The family carefully gathered themselves and lead the way out with Anduin and Wrathion in tow. "How'd it go with the orcs?" Wrathion asked quietly.

"We were able to drive them off."

"We?"

"Well besides Left and Right and anything you may think about humans, many humans do not like seeing their homes invaded and will fight to defend it."

"Understood."

"Any casualties on this side?" Anduin asked, glancing into the other room hesitantly. Looking relieved when he saw nothing.

"Lots of inhaled smoke but nothing a priest can't reverse I don't think."

"Thank the Light." Anduin's shoulders drooped. He suddenly looked exhausted. "Let's go home."

Wrathion couldn't agree more.

Chapter 6: Brave Face

Anduin and Wrathion had come to the agreement on the way home that Wrathion's room was only about half full and could hold another person if they were comfortable with one another, and they had decided they were, so Anduin had moved all the stuff the pack mule he had been left with to the large room at the end of the upstairs hall. The furnishings would not change, as Anduin hadn't brought any save a chest of personal belongings, so Anduin got the wardrobe against the eastern wall of the suddenly giant room.

The north wall was where the beds rested. Wrathions was about a nightstand's length away from the western wall and Anduin tucked his bed, which he had borrowed from an unoccupied room, all the way in the Northeastern corner. Against the foot of Wrathion's bed was his trunk of clothing and on the southern wall was the conspicuously empty table which had two chairs sitting at it. At the foot on Anduin's bed was a similar chest but it contained all manner of study materials and things to do, books to read and wooden weapons to spar with. After moving in Anduin had decided to take a bath in the hot pool just under the back balcony of the inn. The same back balcony that was connected to Wrathion and Anduin's room, it had a rocking chair on it and it was a well-loved rocking chair at that. Aside from that, he was ecstatic to be able to bathe after a long day of smoke and fire.

Anduin hadn't seen much of Wrathion since he had started moving in his stuff, save Wrathion taking long enough to clean out the wardrobe so Anduin could use it. Anduin hadn't really been worried about it until he got out to the hot pool, set his towel on a rock, stripped out of the odd clothes and slithered into the water and leaned back on the staircase leading down into the water. The warmth felt nice on his leg, well it felt nice, everywhere to be quite frank. Relaxed, Anduin began to sing a little tune,

"It's not fair to be alo--ah!" He nearly jumped out of the water when he realized the bright red light he had passed over without noticing were eyes, not lights. "How long have you been watching me?" He demanded from the dragon, who looked a little bit too smug that he had caught Anduin singing. Anduin's cheeks flushed a little, and then a lot when he realized that he was equally as exposed as Wrathion was, nothing but water obscuring visions of things Anduin did not want to see and did not want to be seen. Don't be stupid he probably doesn't even have anything because this human form is just a disguise. Wrathion purred softly, "Not long." he said, "though you haven't been here very long either so I suppose my point is invalid." His black curls even longer as he brushed them out with a wooden comb. "Don't worry I was just getting out when you walked out here so I decided to wait."

"To watch me?" Anduin narrowed his eyes.

"No so I wouldn't be streaking in front of you." Wrathion rolled his bright red eyes. well maybe he does have- Anduin shook his head to clear that thought before he finished it.

"Just go, I'll close my eyes."

"No need," Wrathion said shifting into a dragon and fluttering away behind a rock opposite Anduin's, which was a little more than hip height so Wrathion changed back, dried himself off, grabbed his discarded clothing and fluttered away to the balcony.

Anduin sighed and finished bathing quickly, he heard howls up in the mountains and it reminded him too much of the orcs who had attacked Goldshire. Where they part of the Horde?

Anduin didn't know but didn't think his father would be pleased either way. He heaved himself out of the warm water, tying his towel around his waist and grabbed his clothes before heading upstairs. Right stood from the table Wrathion had been sitting at when Varian had approached and followed the boy up but stopped at the door threshold while Anduin continued past the threshold. Anduin did not see Wrathion and took the opportunity to dress in his nightclothes and then took a step out onto the cool balcony. Wrathion gently rocked in his chair and seemed to be reading. Wrathion was in fuzzy night clothes and seemed to be at peace with his surroundings, his book open in his lap and him focusing intently on it instead of glancing around like he was being watched like he normally did. "Wrathion?" Anduin whispered gently. The dragon looked up at him sleepily. "Let's come in for the night. It's cold out here."

"Alright." Wrathion agreed without the reluctance Anduin had expected. He stood and followed Anduin back into the tavern. Anduin plopped down on his bed, happy to feel something soft underneath him for the first time all day. While Wrathion slipped under his covers more methodically.

Anduin had expected them to go to sleep not long after that, but they ended up talking for many many hours despite the madness of the day.

"Did you see that Night Elf girl?" Anduin asked excitedly.

"No." Wrathion replied calmly.

"Oh come on you can't tell me she wasn't the prettiest thing you've ever seen!"

"She wasn't."

"So you admit you saw her?!"

"Yes, but I didn't notice her. It takes a lot to get a dragon to notice someone in that way."

"Well I noticed her!" Anduin retorted.

"I think you noticed the curves of a tree you lonely priest." Wrathion teased, his voice held no malice and honestly Anduin had seen him eyeing up some people too, though he'd deny it Anduin was sure.

"Would you two shut up and go to sleep?" Right snapped poking her head in the room.

"Sorry!" Anduin squeaked. Shifting so he lay down and closed his eyes to sleep.

Something was making one side of his pillow heavier than the other. Anduin tried to shove it off but to no avail. Blinking open his eyes he saw... a dragon whelp. He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Light! What are you doing over here?" He hissed.

"I..." the dragon looked embarrassed. "I don't know. You just seemed... cold. You were shivering." Wrathion explained in the softest voice he could.

The dragon was admittedly warm. Anduin was about to send the dragon away anyways when he realized something. He has no friends or family... he must be so lonely. Poor guy, being so brave around everyone and just taking everyone's doubts and expectations to become his father but... he has nothing for himself. I think we have more common ground than either of us assumed. "No, it's okay," Anduin said catching the dragon and settling him on the sheets. Looks like we both need each other. Thank you Light, for bringing me to a place I can finally help someone else.

Chapter 7: Accord

Wrathion woke up later than Anduin, he knew it the second he regained consciousness. The bed next to him was cold, save the heat emanating from his breath. He shifted into his human form and stretching before sliding off the bed.

Something about him felt... off, not wrong per se just, strange. A quick reworking of his disguise revealed nothing, save maybe his facial hair becoming a slight bit more prominent than before. Then there must be something wrong with me instead he noted. With a small sigh of anxiety, he shifted back into his true form.

Suddenly the space between him, the bed, the trunk, and the dresser was much too small and getting smaller. With a startled snarl Wrathion shifted back and scooted away from anything nearby. Proportions were normal again. What is happening to me? He hissed to himself and tried again. This time the world got smaller but he didn't hit anything right off. He examined himself after taking a second to realize he wasn't hovering in the air like he normally did. Instead his front paws and back were both strong enough and long enough to touch the ground at the same time and balance him. He wondered briefly if dragons had a puberty stage of their adolescence but pushed the thought aside as curiosity overtook anything else. He reached up a forepaw and went to touch his head and promptly prodded himself with sharp horns. Setting the paw down, not minding the sting of being jabbed, he stretched his wings. As he did so he got a satisfactory little woosh of air beneath their power and size. Though he did quickly realize as he spread his wings to their capacity that he was knocking books off their shelves and pushing aside furniture.

One last thing he could test here in the tavern. He took a deep breath in and roared with all his strength. The noise echoed through the nearby mountains and shook the building with its power. He felt rather smug and then quickly realized that the fact the tavern floor was holding up a dragon, albeit the size of a Polar Bear, up without complaint. He did admire how large he had gotten, from the size of a kitten to the size of a bear was a massive change to happen overnight. Much less all the other stuff.

Wrathion was finally a drake!

A head popped around the corner, blue eyes peered into the bedroom, "Wrathion?" Anduin asked, "the staff are worried about you."

"Yeah, it's me." He purred taking a seat, his head nearly touching the roof. Even his voice held exponentially more power than it had before. "Everything's fine."

"Wow!" Anduin smiled at him, "You're way bigger now than when I got up this morning!"

Wrathion cocked his head at him, "How big was I?"

"Maybe the size of a komodo dragon, " Anduin replied, measuring with his hands as he made his way over to his friend. He reached out to touch the obsidian colored scales but quickly restrained himself. "Sorry-uh may I? I've never actually felt a dragon's scale before."

Wrathion did the dragon equivalent of a shrug. "Sure." Anduin made a pleased noise and very gently reached out and set a hand of the dragon's flank. The contact surprised Wrathion, it was warm and soft and incredibly... exciting for lack of a better word. Anduin stroked Wrathion's side like one would pet a cat and to some degree, Wrathion was annoyed at the gentleness Anduin showed him but a much larger part of him wanted him to keep doing so forever, each touch sending more and more shocks to the excitement pooling in his chest. Wrathion felt something twitch in his belly and shook Anduin off, "That's enough." He tried to say gently despite the rising panic. Anduin, clearly without thinking glanced down to the dragon's underbelly and, seeming to regret his decision quickly looked back up at Wrathion's face instead. Before he could process what Anduin had seen a cold thought washed over him. "Shit. I'm late for the Accord." He snarled.

"The what?" Anduin asked seeming relieved at the change in subjects.

"The Accord, listen we have to go but basically it's an annual meeting between all the Dragon Aspects." Wrathion considered for a moment, "and I don't have time to horse you all the way down to the pier."

Anduin flushed a deep red color suddenly. "Well, maybe you're big enough now that I can... ride on your back?"

Wrathion caught the possible innuendo but had no time to respond to it. "Yes yes fine." He growled and crouched down so Anduin could carefully wriggle himself up onto the curve of Wrathion's back. He seemed almost giddy with getting to ride a dragon. This slightly annoyed Wrathion, he was not some mount to be collected in some adventure's journal. He didn't think that's what Anduin planned to do and again had no time to consider it.

"Are you two okay?" Right asked poking her head into the doorframe.

"Yeah, we're going to the Accord," Wrathion replied.

"We'll meet you there."

"Thanks!" Wrathion nodded approval and began to plod out onto the balcony. Anduin ducked to avoid hitting the doorframe as Wrathion squeezed through it with only some amount of trouble. With a sharp breath, Wrathion leaped off the banister, spread his wings and flew he soared into the sky with a few powerful beats of his wings. Anduin squeaked as Wrathion leaped and tried to do a little trick, but was still trying to figure out his body first. After his liftoff, Wrathion did his best to simply glide down the mountainside but would keep some distance between his underbelly and the treeline below.

"Woo!" Anduin cheered from atop him, Wrathion roared in agreement and together they went soaring down the mountain shouting and roaring all the way.

The landing was the hardest part. Wrathion tried his best to be gentle as he touched down, so as not to jostle Anduin off over his head if he could manage.

Unfortunately Anduin did get knocked off and was sent flying. Fortunately grabbing onto something as he went. Unfortunately, it was Wrathion's neck. Wrathion stumbled but was able to right himself before falling over completely. "Sorry!" He called back at the boy clinging onto him for dear life.

"Scared the Light out of me dude!" Anduin growled as he regained his balance. Wrathion shifted back into a human, which suddenly felt oddly comfortable. There was an awkward pause before Anduin let go of Wrathion and went over to take a seat on the grass. "Next time. We're going to need a saddle."

"Next time?" Wrathion replied. "Is there going to be a next time?"

Anduin smiled broadly at him then, which caught Wrathion by surprise, "that was the most fun I've had since like forever ago!" Anduin looked... very small then, like an 8-year-old child rather than a grown man to become king one day. It tugged at something inside Wrathion that he couldn't quite name.

It was probably nothing. Wrathion decided, he was just hormonal.

"Wrathion?" Anduin's voice brought Wrathion back to the now.

"Sorry what were you saying?" Wrathion asked meeting gentle blue eyes.

"I was asking if it would be okay if we did some more practice with the flight." Anduin said patiently.

"Yes that'd be fine." Wrathion said, voice cracking as he fought off a surge of emotion that swelled up inside him. He offered a hand to Anduin to help him up. Anduin took it and heaved himself up, their fingers staying within brushing distance for a few seconds too long and even when they separated they walked much closer together than they had previously. Anduin following Wrathion closely as the latter stepped onto the boat to Northrend.

The temperature dropped significantly after that. Wrathion looked up and knew he was in Dragonblight. The graveyard of dragons including the father of dragons, Galakrond.

Chapter 8: Wrymrest

Anduin had visited Northrend on a number of occasions. He had never liked it much. Not for any reason other than he hated the cold, especially since he was more used to more temperate conditions. Wrathion seemed to have no such reservations as he stepped off the boat and on to the dock, easing his way to actual land before he transformed into a dragon again, crouching so again Anduin could clamor up onto the dragon.

Anduin squawked as Wrathion took off. He wasn't so concerned with the idea of flying, he had ridden griffins before, it was the fact that Wrathion had a greater than human intelligence and as a result was not as conscientious of his flight posture and might not fully understand that dropping Anduin from this heigh, while maybe an entertaining prank among dragons would be a death sentence to Anduin.

Despite his concerns, the pair arrived without incident. Though Anduin did come out of his thoughts as the ground got closer. "Try landing on all four feet when you land," Anduin suggested, might as well try it, see if it worked.

Wrathion didn't reply and Anduin began to worry the dragon hadn't heard or was offended at the comment but Wrathion did as he was asked and they landed with a gentle thump. Anduin still got knocked into the air a few inches because of gravity's effect on him.

Sliding down off the back of Wrathion, Anduin looked up and found that he was the closest to Wyrmrest Temple than he had ever been.

The tower loomed over him into the icy sky. The building, from Anduin's understanding, had four levels. The topmost level served as the roof and was where the battle with Deathwing and Ultraxion, Deathwing's experiment that had gone right, had taken place. Above the bones of Galakrond, Deathwing had taken a mighty blow thanks to the orc shaman Thrall, who had wielded the artifact/weapon the Dragon Soul. The Dragon Soul had been a powerful artifact created by the Dragon Aspects and had, ironically, been the idea of Neltharion. The weapon later disassembled Deathwing into nothing but atoms.

That battle had stretched as far as the Malestrom in the middle of the sea separating Kalimdor and The Eastern Kingdoms but it had begun here at Wrymrest Temple.

The next floor down was where the commander of the Wyrmrest defenders, Lord Afrasastrasz, resided, it also served as a war room if the need arose.

The level under that was the common sector, generally, this was as much of Wyrmrest Temple that mortals got to lay eyes on. Though that was no to downplay its beauty in and of itself.

The bottom floor, half-buried beneath the ice, was the room that severed as the portal room for the dragons. All five Dragonflights had a Portal to their respective realms. And the realms, as far as Anduin knew never having been through any of the portals, were as follows: The Black Dragonflight's realm was in the heart of an active volcano, though it lay abandoned now that the Black Dragonflight had all but been wiped out, with its last remaining member staying in Pandaria for the time being.

The Red Dragonflight got a cherry tree grove that had once been ransacked by Deathwing's forces but had since recovered splendidly.

The Green Dragonflight got the Emerald Dream. The realm where all dreams, wishes, and hopes, were real, but also so were all the nightmares and fear, the Green Dragons spent their time trying to control the balance between the two. It is said that once one falls asleep the mind wanders the Emerald Dream until one wakes.

The Blue Dragonflight resided in the Realm known as the Eye of Eternity, which was the home of magic in its purest form. After the Nexus War most if the Blue Dragonflight went extinct, but those that remained studied there.

Last but not least was the Bronze Dragonflight's home in the Caverns of Time, which were located on the continent of Kalimdor. The Caverns of Time were where the Bronze Dragonflight guarded the time ways dutifully and protected all that had happened, no matter how bad, for it all served a greater purpose.

This chamber also apparently served as the council room for the Aspects since Wrathion plodded off down the icy chasm floor into the room. The room was circular in shape and on the edges of the room were the portals. More to the center of the room were five large circular platforms surrounding a collum if starlight, not harsh enough to be blinding but enough to illuminate the dragons placed on all the platforms but one. The second the boys entered, all eyes fell onto Wrathion. Anduin just happened to be in the perfect spot to notice the nervous tail-flick Wrathion gave before stepping up onto the vacant platform that was part of the circle of other Dragonflights.

Across from Wrathion, was Kalecgos, the Spell Weaver, Anduin had met him before but only in his human form. As a half-elf, Kalec had blue hair and eyes and spoke elegantly but now as a dragon at least ten times larger than Wrathion, he looked much more imposing. His horns alone were the size of three Anduin's, the latter feeling rather small in comparison suddenly, at only five and a half feet tall.

Next to Kalecgos was the Green Dragon Ysera, the Dreamer, she was about a head taller than Kalcegos and floating between her horns was upside down golden crescent with divets gave it a glaive like appearance.

Next to her was a crimson dragon about a Ysera and a half tall, her horns and claws heavily adorned in jewels and other decorations. Alexstraza the Life-Binder in the flesh.

Closest to Wrathion was a Ysera sized Bronze Dragon, Nozdormu the Infinite, sometimes called Nozdormu the Timeless stood proud beside his decorated companions.

Besides each Aspect were two smaller dragons, one on either side of the same color of their respective Aspect. Except Wrathion. Wrathion's only companion was a human.

"What doesss a mortal want with the affairssss of dragonss?" Nozdormu asked, golden eyes glinting as he recognized the human taking a spot besides Wrathion's flank.

"Wrathion!" Alexstraza thundered, "You show up late and you bring a mortal with you?" She hissed.

"Mighty Dragon Aspects," Anduin bowed as deep as he could without aggravating his leg, and to hide his body trembling, "I meant no disrespect by my presence." He explained smoothly.

"This one's father and I arranged an agreement that requires him to remain by my side at all times." Wrathion explained, "I am to protect the Prince of Humans."

Alexstraza blinked at him a few times. "But you still brought a mortal-"

"Let the mortal thing go." Kalecgos snarled, "he already explained why the mortal is here."

Alexstraza glared at Kalecgos. "Very well." She hissed reluctantly. "Nozdormu, who is to speak first today?"

Nozdormu tilted his head. "Wrathion speaksss firssst. Kalecgossss next year."

Wrathion with a small intake of breath looked up at the other dragons in attendance. "Now that the rest of the Corrupted Black Dragonflight has been eradicated, I wish to take my place as the Black Aspect." He said his voice strained but not out of anxiety like his tail swishes were.

Alexstraza laughed, "You will not hold that title if I have any say in it." She snarled. Wrathion Wrathion away violently. Even his cool expression could not hide the hurt from the verbal blow.

"Sister," Ysera snapped from besides Alexstraza. "This is not Deathwing."

"So what? His child is nearly as bad!"

"Alexstraza," Kalecgos began, "You have to let this go, Wrathion is not to be blamed for his father's sins."

"You want me to let go of the rape, torture and murder of my children?" Alexstraza howled in rage and fury, eyes lighting on fire and turned of the Spell Weaver.

Kalecgos was unfazed. "Of course not." As he said that, something occurred to Anduin, the first being they were speaking Common instead of Draconic, why include the human in on the conversation? The second thing Anduin noticed was that while Alexstraza may be the Queen of Dragons her Aspect companions had no problem voicing their opinions around her.

"If I may," Anduin couldn't help but pipe up, standing as tall as he could, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. He had just interrupted borderline gods. All eyes turned to him. As much as Kalecgos was sticking up for Wrathion, Anduin hated to see the dragons fight. "Yesterday, a fire broke out in a town we were visiting. While Wrathion could not be hurt by the fire he went to great lengths to ensure the safety of everyone affected. I believe that given the proper guidance and mentorships from great beings such as yourself and being taught that he is better than his father, he will shape up the way you wish him to, rather than the way you fear he will."

Alexstraza leaned so she met Anduin at eye level. All the malice and fear in her gaze was gone. "Will you vouch for the drake in question?" She asked gently.

Anduin reached up and set a hand on her snout. "Absolutely, we all can help guide him. Azeroth needs a Earth Warder and Wrathion is a solid choice."

"Prove that Rheastrasza's sacrifices were not in vain." Kalecgos spoke.

Alexstraza looked between her friends. She turned to Nozdormu, "what about you?"

"I had to forgive myssself for a future of my fall to the madness that will never come to be. Thisss one deserves the sssame forgivenesssss."

Alexstraza nodded. "Very well, Wrathion, step forward."

Wrathion, clearly hiding his excitement behind cool red eyes, stepped onto a central ring filled with sparkling stars. "Although we may not be the Titans, we have the power to proclaim a new Aspect in the event that one falls. I, Alexstraza will see to it that this Drake becomes everything that his father chose not to be. Kalecgos, present your gifts."

Anduin had the cold realization that he was about to witness the ascension of a God yet something kept him from moving at all so as to give the gods some privacy. Yet it felt like he glued to the floor

Kalecgos stepped into the circle with Wrathion. "We have no ability to grant you the power we were disrupted by the titans, not alone but together we all may impart our wisdom and wishes onto you, granting you the power you will need to lead what is left of your kin," Kalecgos said. "My gift, as the youngest Aspect prior to you, is perseverance, strength, and wisdom. May it guide you during the seasons ahead." The dragons, with Kalecgos having to crouch almost to reach butted heads affectionately. Both muttering small words inaudible and in Draconic before Kalecgos stepped away.

Ysera came next; "before we became the Aspects, Alexstraza, Nozdormu, Neltharion, Malygos and myself all had to face trials. But never did we face them alone. My gifts to you are friendship, love, and hope. May you surround yourself in friends and family who care about you as deeply as you care about them." Again soft words and a headbutt was exchanged before Ysera stepped back.

Anduin suddenly noticed Ysera didn't need to crouch as much to reach Wrathion's level. He had about doubled in size since his exchange with Kalecgos.

Anduin watched as he grew in size again before Nozdormu stepped forward. "In my own time, I have sssseen timelines where the world was destroyed and rebuilt many times. With my gift I give you patience, judgment and justice. Sssome times it takes patience to see the correct course of action. Yet sssome ssssituations require immediate action. It is up to you to decide what to do and when to do it."

Nozdormu had to crouch down the least so far. They were also close enough now that Anduin could make out what they were saying. He understood some basic Draconic as part of the princely work he had studied many languages, Draconic being one. "May the future bring you fortune." Nozdormu purred.

"And you, brother." Wrathion replied. Anduin suspected the other exchanges had been similar.

Alexstraza stepped forward. "I'll admit I have my concerns, and yet, so did the titans when appointing us as Aspects. With my gift, I bestow to you Clarity, Loyalty, and the love of a mother. May you always think of the struggles of another before yourself and feel the wrath of a mother directed at those who threaten the ones you hold close." Alexstraza had to lean down more than the others only because of her size compared to Wrathion, not because he stopped growing.

Alexstraza, to Anduin's shock and awe, turned to Anduin, "The one who vouches for new Aspect may provide a gift if you wish."

"If not, he isss a fully functional Assspect now. You will not harm him by refusing." Nozdormu added.

"I think I can do something." Anduin said taking Alexstraza's place. "With my gifts, I wish to bestow you with Curiosity, Mercy and Trust. May you forever know that your friends are true to you and share your excitement for life's new adventures." Wrathion smiled and bowed his head to meet Anduins outstretched hand.

"Thank you." Wrathion whispered in Common.

"I am just happy I can give something valuable."

"You have given more than enough."

"Wrathion!" Alexstraza announced from her pedestal, "henceforth you shall be known as Wrathion the Earth Warder. May you always respect Azeroth for all the beauties it has to offer." She smiled at him, "welcome to the Aspects."

Chapter 9: Ascension

"Welcome to the Aspects." Alexstraza purred. Before Wrathion could respond, Wrathion's vision went black.

"Anduin." The white-and-gray wolfman that had accompanied King Wrynn to the Tavern in the Mists addressed a slightly older Anduin, just a handful of years from his present form. "We need to talk."

"Sure Genn. What is it you need?" Anduin looked up from where he had been studying a map of an unknown region intently. The white brick walls decorated with blue implied the exchange was taking place in Stormwind Keep. "What happened at Broken Shore?" The prince continued.

"We were decimated." Genn snarled, "our losses were monstrous."

"That... is not what we anticipated. Heavy resistance I take it?" Anduin tilted his head in concern. "Where is my father?"

"I... that's what I needed to discuss with you." Genn swallowed and glanced around as if looking for someone else to take this responsibility from him. "King Varian Wrynn... is dead."

Anduin stared blankly at Greymane, his jaw tightening. "Excuse me?" His eyes narrowed and his voice was dangerously quiet.

"He died to protect what was left of the attack force. I only survived because of his sacrifice." Graymane continued.

Anduin looked at the floor. "There was only supposed to be limited casualties, that's what Wrathion promised us."

"Well, maybe Wrathion was wrong!" Genn snapped, deep blue eyes flaring in anger. He took a moment to collect himself, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted, I know you deeply respect the Black dragon but he was wrong about this and our army was destroyed because of him."

Anduin hissed his face contorted as he tried to control his emotions. "This is the legion's fault, not Wrathion's!" He shouted back.

"He abandoned you Anduin, whatever thing you had with him is over now!" Genn was clearly not fond of Wrathion and Wrathion supposed that was fair, but he had no intention of leading Varian into a trap. He had no quarrel with the human king and even less so with Anduin.

Anduin sighed heavily and hid his face behind his hands. "Leave me now Graymane, we'll worry about coronation some other time."

Genn went quiet then. Setting a hand on Anduin's shoulder. "I am sorry." He murmured. "I lost someone close to me too today."

"This is hard for everyone but I need to process." Genn hesitated for a second too long, causing Anduin's patience to thin. "Leave!" He demanded. Genn's ears flattened and he backed away and closed to door.

Now alone Anduin let out a sob.

Wrathion was jerked back into reality nearly violently. He felt that he was in human form, and laying on the floor of Wyrmrest temple he supposed. He felt a gentle soft pulsing beside him and cracked open an eye to look around.

Anduin crouched beside him, light dancing around his palm, causing the warm pulsing through his body. He looked gravely concerned. Wrathion, remembering his vision flinched away. "I'm sorry." He mumbled even though nothing had happened since his vision had begun. The other Aspects watched him calmly. "He wakes mortal," Nozdormu said somewhere to Wrathion's side. Anduin, reluctantly, stood and backed away.

"The ascension to an Aspect triggers powerful visions for the new Aspect, it helps guide them where nothing else could," Alexstraza explained. "His vision was deeply emotional it seems."

"What makes you say that?" Wrathion hissed from the floor as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Wrathion! You're okay!" Anduin cheered and threw his arms around Wrathion's neck. "I was so worried I had hurt you by accident." He breathed so only Wrathion could hear his confession. Wrathion flushed a little, butterflies erupting in his belly from the simple act of being this close to Anduin. To feel his cold arms against the skin of Wrathion's neck. He nuzzled warmly into Anduin, grateful that his vision could still be prevented.

"I'm sorry," Wrathion said again. His gut-wrenching with the pain of knowing he had caused Anduin so much distress. Even if it was far in the future. "I'm so sorry."

Anduin chuckled, much to Wrathion's surprise, "So long as you're okay, no hard feelings!" He said with such a childlike excitement Wrathion couldn't help but smile back at the young human. He felt better the butterflies still gnawing at his stomach but the dread seemed to evaporate. Wrathion wanted to lean in and... he wasn't really sure what, he had no words for it. Dragons rarely expressed affections through words or small actions. Between dragons, such emotions were usually communicated through pheromones or large deeds and favors.

Anduin seemed to understand though, "Later." He promised, "when we don't have gods staring at us." Wrathion grinned at him, something about Anduin's acknowledgment of Wrathion's feelings and requited them was a pleasant comfort. One that warmed his whole chest and fuzzed away his thoughts, and the sting of the vision.

Once Wrathion took his place again, the meeting continued and while Wrathion stopped paying attention to the others at some point, he got a chance to plan what he would do now that he was and Aspect.

Well, for one thing, he was going to pick out a lair for himself and connect the Wyrmrest portal to it. That would be way better than living inside a volcano, he hated that place. After that, he wasn't really sure. He hadn't thought Alexstraza would say yes to his proposal in the first place so he hadn't gotten his hopes up. Maybe he would check in with Magni.

Magni was the literal champion of Azeroth, he had been a dwarf named Magni Bronzebeard before he had become made of diamond to protect all of the world for the rest of eternity. As Earth Warder Wrathion and Magni needed to get along at least well enough to get their jobs done.

The meeting ended before he could plot anything else. He went to walk out and let Anduin climb on outside but Kalecgos beat him and padded beside him. "Wrathion? May I have a moment?" The Spell Weaver asked.

"After everything you've done for me today, you may have as many as you need," Wrathion replied, stopping to speak with the Blue dragon. Anduin paused beside Wrathion and waited patiently.

"Forgive me for the intrusion," Kalecgos began. "I have been studying the growth cycles of dragons, more specifically, black dragons and I noticed you seemed... uncomfortable in your own scales. This leads me to believe that you have developed significantly since we last met in a very short amount of time."

"Okay..." Wrathion tilted his head at Kalecgos.

"I believe that because of how large Deathwing got, both physically and how far spread his name was, dragons grow based on what feelings they stir inside the hearts of others."

"What do you mean?" Wrathion blinked slowly at the older dragon.

"I mean, that because everyone ever feared Deathwing, he became massive as he fed off of that. However, the rest of us Aspects are not as widely known by the mortal population and a majority of our body size is because of our respect for each other. Recently, you came in contact with a group of humans that feel very strongly about you, and then you received the respect of the other Aspects making you multiply in size today."

Wrathion nodded, "Makes more sense than the gold theory anyways." Wrathion replied, "why are you telling me this?"

"Well, as with mortals going through adolescence, it helps to know why your body is reacting the way it is."

"Are you telling me I hit puberty?" Wrathion half-joked. Kalecgos seriously could not be implying that, right?

"Well you are grown it's more of a physical change than a psychological one," Kalecgos replied with a shrug of sorts. "But that's all I wanted to speak with you about. Congratulations on your accession!"

Wrathion stared after the Blue with a mix of shock and irritation. Weird thing to tell a new aspect. Especially since he was larger the Spell Weaver now, if only just. "Well... that's awkward." Anduin spoke from besides Wrathion.

"Seriously." Wrathion agreed. "Weird dude."

"I think he's trying to be nice but isn't sure what to do with you," Anduin replied, climbing on as Wrathion crouched. "Onwards, noble steed! To the Tavern!" Anduin echoed Wrathion's statement from before. Wrathion rolled his eyes but with a powerful beat of his wings he was airborne and taking off towards home.

Chapter 10: Confession

The rest of the evening for Anduin had gone by peacefully. He had spent most of it reading his tome of holy studies on Wrathion's fluffy reading chair on the balcony. A thick leather-bound book full of spells for Anduin to learn and to start practicing lay in his lap. Little did the instructor who assigned him the work know, Anduin had already mastered most of the techniques enclosed within. The art of using the Light had always come easily to the young human. Nonetheless, Anduin had dutifully spent a few hours studying.

Wrathion, on the other hand, looked borderline distressed all evening. Pacing between the same three rooms for at least an hour. Leaning on the banister and staring out into the sunset for less than thirty seconds before he was pacing again. At first, Anduin had taken it for residual excitement from the ceremony earlier that morning but the sun had long since set and Anduin had taken his studying into the room for the night, Wrathion was still wearing footprints into the wooden floor. Spending as much time as he could in human form Anduin had noticed.

Anduin tried to stay diligent in his study but now that he rested propped up on an elbow under the warm covers of his bed Wrathion was much more in view and Anduin couldn't help but watch how the dragon moved. His hair was all over the place thanks to how many times Wrathion had run his hand through the black curls. His red eyes were nearly dull with how much raw emotion he had endured during the day. Anduin understood. More than Wrathion could ever know. Anduin had always had a knack for understanding the struggles of others. Depending on how strong the emotions were Anduin could focus on that person's words or actions and feel as though he was walking beside them through their emotional journey. A bonus for his priestly duties but not required, and sometimes it bit him in the ass.

When Anduin's mother had died, Anduin had felt the pain twice over, once for his own grief and then again because of his father's pain.

Wrathion's struggle was so intense the emotional waves washed over Anduin without the priest having to focus at all, however, without Anduin's attention all he got was a jumbled mess so distorted that he couldn't even tell what was useful information and what wasn't. Though he suspected Wrathion was equally as incoherent. "Wrathion." Anduin said finally, setting his tome on the trunk at the foot of the bed, "come here."

"Can't. Sit. Still." Wrathion bit out like words were hard for him.

"I know, but I can help," Anduin assured him. Wrathion looked strangely at the priest but willed himself over to the side of Anduin's bed. "Sit down." Anduin gestured to a spot beside him, "and face me." Wrathion followed instructions and gazed at Anduin with an expression Anduin couldn't quite place. Something akin to hunger was the closest he could get to describing it.

"What makes you think you can help me?" Wrathion asked. "I don't mean to be like mean or anything I'm just curious."

"Priests are known to bring peace to those who have been through unimaginable strife. I am trained to help alleviate what ails you." Anduin replied, his voice soft. "Just relax, and tell me anything that comes to mind."

Wrathion grunted as though he was better than ranting but quickly fell to it. "I don't expect you to believe me but I have always wanted to take my father's place as Earth Warder but now that I have it... quite frankly, I'm scared out of my wits."

"What are you scared of?"

"Becoming my father. I literally have the weight of the whole world on my shoulders and I'm afraid I'm going to be what everyone thinks I will become."

Anduin smiled at his friend, "Not everyone believes that of you. I would not have vouched for you had I thought that to be your path." Wrathion gave Anduin a rather vulnerable expression in reply. One Anduin had not thought Wrathion capable of. He always seemed so calm and apathetic about everything.

Wrathion swallowed thickly, "no one ever has before." He whispered. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

"The fact you are worrying about not becoming Deathwing proves already that you are better than him."

"I suppose." Wrathion yawned and shook himself back into his standard poker face. "But I have more immediate problems I guess. The world is not in any immediate danger I'll know when it is. My other concern is more of a question than a problem."

"Shoot."

"Well you mortal types seem to be obsessed about choosing gay or straight but why do I have to pick? Why can't I like both?"

Anduin understood that one, more than just his empathy he understood. "I'm with you. My father and the Worgen king are trying to set me up with girls. They're perfectly nice mind you, they just don't strike my fancy. Genn and my dad keep telling me we just haven't found 'the one' but I'm beginning to doubt I will."

"See that's the problem with being royalty, you're parents not only control everything but their shadow hangs over you forever no matter what you do!"

"Unless your name is Arthas." Anduin chided.

Arthas Menethil used to be a human paladin, and heir to the Lordaeron throne. Until the young paladin began to take a dark path. Once beloved by his kingdom Arthas, upon discovering of a plague outbreak in a city known as Stratholme, decided that the best course of action would be to slay all the inhabitants of the city to prevent the spread of the plague. He had later gone on to become the Lich King. Leader of the undead armies collectively called the Scourge. His father had all but been forgotten in the horrific wake of death in his son's actions. Though Arthas had been put down when Anduin was still relatively young.

"He doesn't count!" Wrathion purred. "He only outmatched his father because of a mass genocide! Neither of us is going down that route I hope."

Anduin smiled and pawed at his friend's black jacket. "I think you'd better keep an eye on me!" Anduin announced.

"You aren't going to-"

"I'm a known heartbreaker!" Anduin interrupted Wrathion's thought. Trying to lighten the mood some.

"Don't lie! You cant even walk up to anybody without getting nervous!" Wrathion retorted catching Anduin's hand in his own paws, having transformed just enough to not be holding Anduin's hand, to which the latter was slightly disappointed, but not enough to be stabbing the human with talons or scales.

Anduin smirked, pouncing lightly on the lithe male. "Yeah well, you talk a big game for someone who can't get another in bed with him!"

"Not true!" Wrathion slipped out of Anduin's grip and wrestled the taller boy into the mattress with surprising strength. Especially given how deliberate he had been so as not to hurt his play mate's bad leg.

Anduin wondered if Wrathion had ever had someone to do something as childish as play fight or to spend all night talking about whatever came to mind.

The soft gaze from the dragon implied no. Though Anduin hadn't really either, he had his dad but it was different to have a friend or sibling to share passions with on a level adults had a hard time understanding. "Oh? Now I'm curious, who have you ever taken to bed?" Anduin said finally.

"You." Wrathion puffed his chest proudly.

Anduin flushed a bright red at that. "Not the same!" Anduin hissed avoiding the dragon's eyes.

"For now." Wrathion purred, Anduin rolled his eyes but internally scolded himself for being so transparent about how he felt about Wrathion. Despite Wrathion being another man, a black dragon, kin of Onyxia who had delighted in emotionally tormenting Anduin and Varian, and Wrathion being on par with a god, Anduin was beginning to foster something of a crush on the Black Prince.

Despite Wrathion's flirting Anduin couldn't gauge how the dragon actually felt about him in return. The pair stared at one another for a nearly awkwardly long time. "May I do something totally insane?"

Wrathion tilted his head in confusion. "Sure." He agreed. "I do believe you told me you had something for me when away from prying eyes. I think we're away from anyone else."

Anduin grinned from ear to ear than. "Yes, I do." He leaned forward, much the same way that Wrathion had earlier and pressed their lips together.

Wrathion took a second to process what was happening but quickly began to follow Anduin's lead. As Wrathion returned the kiss, Anduin, despite his concerns about how quickly he had developed such strong feelings in such a short amount of time, forgot all of the things that were going on outside of the room or all the things he had to worry about. In that long moment, everything felt right with the world. Wrathion quickly grew impatient with the gentle nature of the exchange and began to experiment with his limits. Pressing down on Anduin just enough to get the human to lay back and allow Wrathion to loom over him like a predator about to deal the killing blow to prey.

But no pain came, instead, only more kisses and hushed laughs as the pair tried to figure out what they were trying to do. Wrathion's breathing and adjusting causing their bodies to press together, not in any weird way yet but just enough to excite Anduin from how new and different everything was. Every nerve he had was on fire and they were still fully clothed and not even doing anything that Anduin could get in trouble for. Sure he wasn't encouraged to go around kissing boys but he had no strict rule forbidding it. Anything farther than that though, if he was found out, while not likely still very possible Anduin let something slip he wasn't supposed, to his dad would be furious.

Either way, the boys had no real idea of what they were doing and thus wouldn't get very far short of one having something in mind to try.

It mattered not though because the door creaked open, causing Wrathion to roll away from Anduin, attempting to catch his breath before the intruder could see anything. "Will you two go to sleep?!" Left hissed from the doorway, "settle your differences tomorrow!" The door closed surprisingly softly after that leaving Wrathion and Anduin in the dark again.

"Well, I suppose that means we should split up for the night." Wrathion mused darkly.

"Aw, we don't have to! You can stay over here if you want." Anduin complained, trying to be quiet so as not to incur Left's wrath.

"I'll bother you all night," Wrathion replied going to stand up.

"No, you won't. Trust me." Anduin pawed sleepily at the dragon who sighed and took a seat on Anduin's unoccupied side of the bed.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." With that Wrathion settled down into the sheets, "and thanks, for vouching for me today. That means a lot more than you realize." and before Anduin could even react was snoring away. Anduin laughed to himself at how quickly Wrathion had dozed off, it had been a really long day for him it seemed. Anduin rolled over and closed his eyes allowing sleep to claim him.

Chapter 11: Nozdormu

Wrathion had no idea what to do now. Not only had Anduin confirmed that he shared Wrathion's affections for the other, but he had also taken the first move. As odd as he found the experience Wrathion had liked the intimacy and closeness with the human.

Which posed a number of problems because Wrathion was a dragon, not a mortal.

Not wanting to leave his questions unanswered and his wants swept under the rug he hefted himself up from Anduin's side before the sun rose the next morning and took off from the balcony, shifting into his true form during the jump and flapped powerful wings in an attempt to gain some height. He was still getting used to how large he had gotten. Before he got far from the tavern he noticed a small group of black shadows moving across the dry plains at the base of the mountains. Deciding to see if breakfast had come to him Wrathion swooped down to get a closer look.

To his surprise, he found an Alliance war party. Royal guards escorting the King himself to the base of the mountain. All of the human's eyes were on Wrathion as he descended to the ground in front of the party. "King Wrynn." Wrathion greeted, not feeling any need to bow before a mortal king.

Varian apparently felt the same about a dragon. "Greetings." Varian nodded politely at the dragon. "Forgive me for the intrusion, but I wished to do my first weekly report with Anduin in person."

It has not been a week.

Instead of commenting on this, Wrathion nodded, "Very well, though I request you forgive me for not being a very good host, I was just going to collect a meal before fetching Anduin and taking him with me to a meeting I must attend." Wrathion lied easily, he had been planning on going alone to this 'meeting' but this worked well as an excuse not to bring Anduin. "Though because of your visit I will entrust his safety with you and grant you some privacy." Wrathion continued. "Once you arrive at the tavern speak to the human woman with red hair, she will help you rouse the prince and ensure additional safety should you need it."

"Thank you." Varian nodded, listening intently. "When will you return?"

"No later than sundown." Wrathion estimated. Even if he wasn't finished with his mission by then he could make a pit stop for the night and continue his task in the morning.

"Very well. I will expect to see you then." Varian said Wrathion nodded and pushed off the earth again and floated above the human patrol who gazed up at him in awe, save Varian, as they passed under him. Many of the guards were young Wrathion noted, hardly older than Anduin so he supposed none had seen a true dragon before. Though he did notice wolfman and a man with short red hair beside Varian who only spared Wrathion the cautious glance. Once they had passed Wrathion beat his wings and went soaring across the land. He did manage to snatch a wild oxen herd for breakfast before he began his flight to Southern Kalimdor.

***

Wrathion, now that he was big enough to fly long distances in a timely and safe manner, found it silly to take the boats if he was going alone, despite the near-instant translocation the ships provided, it was infinitely more rewarding, and only a slight bit longer, to fly. Plus he got to fill up on fish as he went.

It was maybe an hour before he felt the heat of Kalimdor wash over his scales. It took only a moment more before he saw the small huddle of mountains the marked the home of the Bronze Dragonflight. He landed in the center of a ruined clearing. Clock towers lay scattered half-buried in the sand in the small mesa that was hidden in the center of the mountains. Which in no way gave away their depth.

"Halt!" A voice called from beside Wrathion. Begrudgingly, he followed instructions, he knew his flight had a reputation for destruction so to stop a black dragon was not totally uncalled for. That and most dragons of separate flights were questioned before being granted entry, for safety's sake. A smaller Bronze Drake glided over to the intruder calmly. She looked younger than Wrathion in body but her eyes revealed her age was well beyond that. "What brings you to the Caverns of Time?" The Drake asked.

"I am to speak with Nozdormu." Wrathion replied evenly.

"Is he expecting you?"

"I don't believe Aspects have to book appointments with one another." Wrathion retorted. He did like being able to fall back on that to help him appear more confident than he felt.

The Drake blinked at him a few times. "Very well. You'll find him in the heart of the mountain." With a single beat of her wings she was out of his way, returning to circle her route above the mesa.

"Thank you." Wrathion grunted and glided through the narrow archway into the Caverns. The descent went down for miles and was heavily decorated with stars and otherworldly things. Finally rounding the corner from one of the main twisting tunnels Wrathion flew into a clearing. This one had hallways branching off it at random intervals. In it's center was a huge circular platform with a massive working golden hourglass centered on it. Sitting in front of the hourglass was the huge bronze Aspect. He sat, making him nearly as tall as the hourglass which reached the roof of the cavern many miles up from the floor. Had he been standing on two paws the Aspect would be large enough to burst through the roof of this chamber and into the mountain itself. With Dragons generally about halfing their height when they moved from sitting to four paws and doubling their height moving from sitting to standing on two paws.

Golden eyes flicked up to the newcomer as soon as Wrathion entered. "Wrathion." Nozdormu tilted his head at the young Aspect. "What brings you to the Cavernsss of Time ssso sssoon?"

"I seek an auidence with you if you have some time."

"Time isss a mortal concept." Nozdormu replied. "Ssso long as I draw breath, I will have time."

Wrathion took a second to process his words. "I see." Wrathion eyed the other bronze dragons around the room. "Is there anywhere we can go that will be more private? It is not a conversation I wish to have in front of strangers."

The Bronze Aspect nodded, and the world went golden for a second before they were in a completely empty version of the Cavern. Nozdormu stretched his wings idely. "I do not sssense a dire disturbance with the mortals for another ssseveral ssseasons. What bothers you so?"

"I wanted to ask you to glimpse into the future for me."

"While I understand what you are asking of me, what isss it you ssseek?"

"I want to pursue a relationship with a mortal and I need you're advice on how to get the best probable outcome."

Nozdormu stared at Wrathion for a while. "Well, you know as well as I do what you will have to do to thisss 'mortal'. You will be responsible, at least in hisss mind, for the death of hisss father."

"Is there any way I can avoid that?"

"Not that I can sssee." Nozdormu replied gently, his voice dropping in volume. "I know thisss is going to be hard for you to accept but I advise you to leave the idea of a mortal consort behind."

"Why?"

"Mortalsss do not have the lifespan we do. They will die a thousand timesss over before we even begin to feel age. They cannot escape time."

"Time is a social construct made by mortals!" Wrathion echoed.

"But it isss one that will claim you're friend in what, to you, is a blink of an eye." Nozdormu growled, with no malice in his voice, he was just trying to get through to Wrathion. "He will die before you can truly begin to love him."

Chapter 12: Kalecgos

Wrathion left the Caverns of Time more uneasy than he had arrived. Nozdormu spoke sense of course but surely there had to be a way for it to work for everyone?

Who can I ask for such a specific question? He growled to himself flying in a random direction to try and get the wind to soothe him and cool his head.

It wasn't until Wrathion felt the stinging cold of Winterspring that the dragon realized exactly who he needed to speak to. Kalecgos was very much in a romantic relationship with a human named Jaina Proudmoore. Who in turn was also a powerful spell caster.

With newfound determination Wrathion flew to the continent of Northrend reaching the Nexus, entrance to The Eye of Eternity, within the hour. Again he was stopped at the entrance but this time by a huge male. One Wrathion recognized from the Accord the day before. This one had been one of Kalecgos' companions the day before. Senegos was his name Wrathion believed. "State your business." The dragon ordered sleepily.

"I wish to speak to the Spell-Weaver."

"He is expecting you in the Eye of Eternity." The dragon replied, wandering away.

Once Wrathion arrived at a tiny blue orb in the center of a floating circular platform he placed his paw on it and blinked. Opening his eyes into space void of anything but stars and a blue and white platform under him. Kalecgos stood before him as well. "Wrathion." The greeting was friendly. "I figured you'd have some questions."

"Not about what you'd expect." Wrathion replied.

"You would be surprised about what I expected you to come to me about." Kalecgos smiled toothily at him. The dragon beckoned him forward, pushing off the ledge and gliding off into space.

Wrathion followed, despite his uncertainty about Kalecgos, which was mostly due to their last conversation. It felt good to soar through space. It looked endless but the air was crisp and cool and he began to see that stars in the sky were networks of platforms and studios. Some proved to be lairs as the pair flew past and others still were full of tomes and ink and parchment. "I'll race you to the farthest platform over there." Wrathion challenged the older dragon. Among creatures so magnificent as Wyrms and even as primitive as Proto-Drakes, racing was a fun competition that the extremes of either species could take part in just as easily as anyone else.

"You challenge me in my own realm?" Kalecgos laughed. "Good luck!" Wrathion beat his wings with intent now that Kalecgos had accepted his challenge and set off towards the platform. He could hear Kalecgos catching up behind him and pushed harder.

Just as Wrathion made it to the platform the other blue dragon swept forward and touched down first. "That's cheating!" Wrathion growled, amused that Kalecgos would have lost had it not been for his familiarity with the area.

"No it's not!" The Blue replied, "it would have been cheating had I froze you!"

Wrathion smiled. "True enough I suppose."

The pair set off again and flew in silence for a long while. "You have questions regarding your mortal companion. What is it you wish to know?" Kalecgos broke the silence finally.

Wrathion was surprised at Kalecgos' foresight. He explained to the Blue the situation he had with Anduin and while he was sure Kalecgos knew most of it already judging by his knowledge of Wrathion's mission, Kalecgos listened to him. "Nozdormu told me that because mortals age much faster than dragons, that it wasn't worth investing time and effort into."

"Well, on some level, he's right. But because of how short-lived they are, mortals love much more fiercely than say another dragon." Kalecgos said, "and besides many mortals can live past their average amount of years thanks to advancements in magic and technology. Khadgar is thought to be, somewhere in Outland, over a thousand years old. So it is not to say they are doomed to die young. High prophet Velen was fully grown when the Burning Legion attacked Argus and still lives thousands of years later to tell about it.

"But Velen is a Draenei, they can live for a quarter of a millennium." Wrathion pointed out.

"But more importantly, he's a priest and he takes care of himself and those around him." Kalecgos said, "some Draenei waste away before they reach 100 because of the negligence of themselves much the way humans do."

"What does Anduin being a priest have to do with it?"

"Priests can bring even the old and sickly back into their stronger days, extremely powerful ones can undo the damage done by time if the need arises."

"You think Anduin is that powerful?"

"I think he has the potential to be." Kalecgos thought for a moment before he spoke again, "and if you are getting into it and are worried about it I do know of something that can help perhaps."

"What is it?"

"If a time comes when you are ready to be Anduin's mate then I shall tell you."

Wrathion shot a glance at Kalecgos. "Mate?"

"Humans, in particular, tend to be fond of monogamy. They do not like to share their prizes." Kalecgos explained, "Anduin if he is invested in this as well, is in it for a mate and partner, not someone he loves to sleep around as he pleases."

"We can't even reproduce together what do you mean mate?" Wrathion tried to keep the barb out of his voice but he wasn't sure what Kalec was getting at.

"Humans generally share their lives with their partner, unlike us who have a small harem of consorts, they tend to stay with their partners whether they can reproduce together or not." Wrathion turned this information over in his head a few times. "Besides humans and dragons both are incredibly sexual creatures, whether or not you can bear offspring is irrelevant that the act of mating is something that is likely to happen."

"Wait how...?" Wrathion was struggling to picture that. "We don't have... I'm a dragon and-"

"You would need to stay in human form but yes, it could work." Wrathion still must have looked as confused as he felt because Kalecgos continued, "do you know how humans reproduce?"

"They-" Wrathion scoured his brain. He had never really thought to care about information such as mortal mating rituals before. "The same thing we do, just on a smaller scale?"

Kalecgos shrugged. "Sort of. But they don't do eggs. Now think about how that happens and try and figure out how that would work between two males."

Wrathion had an image rush into his mind. One that shocked him nearly out of the air. Anduin was- "Sounds really painful." Wrathion grunted trying to hide the weird mesh of emotions the image stirred up in him.

"Humans are more clever than you give them credit for." Kalecgos replied lightly.

"But you just told me I'm barely getting to be an adult in size, what if, how does that work? I can't go telling people the prince is sleeping with a dragon whelp."

"No of course not." Kalecgos agreed. "But age in years is a mortal tracking device. Dragons age in maturity and size instead. You were an adult long before yesterday and now your size reflects that."

"I see." Wrathion hummed to himself. "So... you're with a human, right?"

"I've been with humans for a very long time, yes." Kalecgos replied.

"Do you think it's a waste of time?" Wrathion asked the question hounding at him since Nozdormu.

"Not at all." Kalecgos said firmly. "Being with a human forces you to live. Humans spend every day doing things that matter most to them because they don't have the time that we have to sleep for millennia. Every moment matters to them and that's important to remember when dealing with them, even non-romantically. But the important question to ask yourself is, do you think it's a waste of time?"

Chapter 13: Return of the King

A sharp jab to the side brought Anduin into consciousness. 

"Your father wishes to speak with you." Right said once Anduin lifted his head sleepily to acknowledge Right's prodding.

"Uh, okay." Anduin slurred, "I'll be down in a minute." what in the world is dad doing here?

Anduin realize, not only because of the emptiness in his bed but the fact that Right was waking him implied Wrathion had found better things to do.Which hurt Anduin's feelings he had to admit. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, Wrathion and Anduin could have been a thing, found hope and comfort and friendship and happiness with each other. He was wrong it seemed. He forced the thought aside and collected himself, changing into a more presentable clothing choice. Anduin staggered down the steps and, while he shouldn't have been, was surprised at Varian's presence at the table in the center of the ground floor. "Hey, Dad." Anduin greeted cheerfully, hiding his other concerns behind a smile.

"Anduin," Varian replied, his tone was friendly, he was not prone to showing his affections the way Anduin was, but he tried his best. "Come have a seat, tell me how the last days have been."

Anduin sat at the table across from his father. "I've had a lot of fun!" Anduin began without thinking. "We got to go to the Wyrmrest Accord and Wrathion became a full Aspect! It was amazing!"

Varian blinked a few times. "Wrathion is now the Earth Warder?" He sounded like he didn't believe it.

"Yes." Anduin nodded, choosing to leave out his own part of the meeting. He went on for a long time about all his recent adventures, save the ones he knew better than to tell until the sun set behind the mountains.

"I'm glad you've been having fun but listen, we have to go home now, I can't trust the kin of Onyxia with my only son. You know how much you mean to me."

Anduin grimaced at that, he shouldn't have been reluctant to leave the Tavern given Wrathion's seeming abandonment, but he was. "Dad you already agreed to this with him. I know you're worried but I'll be fine. I've cheered up a lot since I got out here. Velen was right."

"Yes but-"

"Dad I'm only going to get worse if I come home now. I love you I promise I do but I need some time to come into myself."

Varian sighed and looked at the ground. "I know things have been tough since your mom passed but-"

"It's gotten worse lately dad, you know how paranoid I was getting before we set this up and honestly I had good reason to be, if Garrosh finds me, I'm dead, there are no more chances, no more taking prisoners with him. He's going to kill me if he gets the chance. Let me stay up here until this calms down and Garrosh is dealt with, then I can come home with you."

"What are we talking about?" A thundering voice rattled the building and Wrathion, in human form, landed neatly on the doorstep. Without a word, or even really a glance at Anduin the dragon came and sat beside the prince at the table. Ignoring how Anduin’s eyes were immediately glued to the dragon, he seemed, different somehow, happier and more confident. Anduin wasn’t even sure if he could call it a facade because of how easily Wrathion carried it.

"So kind of you to join us." Varian deadpanned. "How did your meeting go?"

Meeting? What meeting?

"About the same as all meetings go," Wrathion replied, "has Anduin shown you Jihui? Great game, tells you a lot about your opponent."

"Really? Do you play poker?" Varian asked, a playful glint in his eye

"You don't want to challenge a dragon to poker, you can never read them." Anduin smiled.

"Well true, but yes. I play." Wrathion agreed. "Right would you get me my cards please?" Right handed him the deck of leather-bound cards with gems woven in that served as the number or pattern for the card. "Do either of your friends play?" Wrathion signaled to Genn Graymane outside the tavern.

"Genn does, yes." Varian answered good-natured, "Shaw cheats."

"Can I play?" Anduin asked sheepishly, he had of course seen the adults play the game but had never previously old enough, or driven enough, to play with them, but if Wrathion was going to, maybe the dragon would spare Anduin a glance then.

"Sure." Both men said. "Genn! Come play cards with us!" Varian called out to the Worgen who happily joined the others at the table. Anduin set his hands on either side of him on the bench while Wrathion shuffed and dealt.

Much to Anduin's surprise, just before the game started, Wrathion's unoccupied hand curled around Anduin's on the bench. They exchanged a look and a small smile before the game begun. Out of the corner of his eye Anduin noticed Varian’s eyes had softened and his smile was much more relaxed and genuine.

***

Some hours passed and the royal guard was planning to head out. Anduin with them Anduin assumed due to not having heard anything different from his father. "See you later?" Anduin asked Wrathion quietly at the top of the stairs, wanting to have Wrathion acknowledge him before he began to pack his stuff.

"Absolutely," Wrathion replied, a swift kiss was shared, much to Anduin's surprise before Wrathion vacated the space to allow his guests to move about.

Varian came up the stairs behind Anduin, startling him, he didn't think his father had seen anything but wasn't sure. "Anduin. I thought about what you said." Varian began, "and I will permit you to stay longer."

Anduin felt his eyes light up. "Really?!"

Varian smiled and nodded, "yes, you are the happiest I've seen you since your mother died and... I think we finally found someone you'd be interested in taking as a suitor. Albeit that will be a ways in the future and some negotiations to be had but you remind me of myself when I was young and first starting to fall in love with your mother." Varian lost himself to thought for a moment. "You will have to return home at some point, but I will allow you to stay until Garrosh is dealt with. If you need to come home sooner you need only say so."

Anduin was delighted, "thank you so much, dad!" He didn't even mind that Varian had implied Wrathion and Anduin might be married someday. For now all that mattered was that his father had agreed to let him stay. "You won't regret it!"

"I know I won't," Varian replied, smiling, before turning to Wrathion, who had faded into a dark corner save his glowing red eyes which gave him away. "Thank you, for your hospitality young Wrathion, we will be speaking again soon I should think."

With that, Varian and his troops were gone, leaving Wrathion and Anduin alone at the top of the stairs.

[a-crimson-lion]

Strengths... and Weaknesses

I think an appropriate phrase for this post would be:

"Lord forgive me... I'm back on my bullsh*t."

Anyone who's been viewing my tumblr recently knows of my excessive hatred for one Katsuki Bakugo. I have stated time and time again that he's a gigantic asshole who only managed to tone it down a notch or two as of late. He might be the slightest bit more tolerable then he was at the start (I'm not the type to say that Katsuki had no development; I'm the type to say his development is there, but it's slow and poorly executed), but he's still overall an asshole.

In fact, before I start this post, I want to make a few things clear on where I still currently stand with Katsuki, as a person who has only seen up to Season 3 of the anime and read up to the Shie Hassaikai Arc in the manga.

First off, let's address one of the more triggering parts of the series: Katsuki's suicide instigation. Horikoshi has apparently stated that he "went too far" with Katsuki in the first chapter of the manga, and for me and maybe a few others, that sounds like if Horikoshi was given the option, he might have written out that scene entirely. Well, okay then, I understand that much; I mean, Katsuki was never that level of harsh once the story started to really kick off. So what does that change?

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

From where I stand, even if you ignore or flat out rewrite Katsuki telling Izuku to kill himself out of the story, that still doesn't change the fact that Katsuki is still a terrible person with very little development. He still bullied Izuku since they were kids. He still burned his notebook and threatened Izuku while burning his school uniform to not go to U.A. He attempted to harm Izuku on their first day at U.A., and during the Battle Trial, used a highly dangerous piece of support gear which could have very much killed Izuku (instead of, you know, using the capture tape?). He's still anti-social as all hell, which isn't a crime in and of itself until you realize that being a hero requires at least some form of cooperation. Even Eraserhead, an underground hero (which is probably as potentially anti-social as you can get) still at the very least has to work with other Pros and the authorities with some level of respectful communication. Katsuki's on his way to becoming the second Endeavor (which, depending on how the latter's redemption pans out, might be even worse than before).

That last bit is probably more the fault of my second grievence: the narrative coddles him too much. Yes, being consistently kidnapped by villains is very much not okay and is probably very traumatising, but that doesn't mean he's realizing he's becoming a better person. After the sludge incident, he didn't bother Izuku because he was too occupied with his own inferiority complex; he was angry at himself for not being "strong enough," and spent his time up to the entrance exam stewing in his insecurities. While at U.A., he gets no form of proper addressment for his actions. Eraserhead is willing to restrain Katsuki, but he won't expel him, or at the very least talk to him. Katsuki goes volatile during the Battle Trial, but no one discusses and addresses how much excessive force he uses. During the final exam, Katsuki isn't docked for his initial inability to cooperate and the fact that it took a literal punch to the face to begin doing such, and even then, Izuku caried his already beaten body past the gate, which means he technically passed. He should have been failed for his actions, maybe the villains wouldn't have been able to kidnap him during the Training Camp arc. Speaking of which, why doesn't he go back to camp and save his classmates the trouble? He just wants to fight, and this simple-minded desire ends up getting him kidnapped. And what does he learn from that kidnapping? Again, "he's weak." No introspection on his behavior except for a minor one before Deku vs Kacchan 2. No discussing his actions because he can't bring himself to be the bigger man and just talk to All Might. No, he has to bring out Izuku in the middle of the night and pummel him, and we're supposed to feel sorry for the kid because he's going through an existential crisis. Which I would feel bad, had it not been for the fact that it could have been avoided, AND his behavior aside, he's going through all the wrong coping methods. I don't care if he only knows how to express himself with violence, that fact alone warrants heaps upon heaps of propery therapy, NOT FURTHER VIOLENCE.

Before I officially take a complete dive into "anti" territory, let's look at one last thing.

Remember after Kamino Ward when Katsuki had Denki electrocute himself and he gave Eijiro some money as compensation for spending it on some fancy binoculars. Well, some of the antis I've seen have claimed the money was stolen from Denki. Personally, I don't see it. I can see Katsuki causing Denki to electrocute himself to show his begrudging care for his fellow classmates (even if it's still trying to grow). I can see Katsuki giving Eijiro money for his troubles, even if it's a blow to Katsuki's pride. I just can't see Katsuki stealing money from other people. Sure, he's an asshole, but he's not a thief. His morals are warped, not corrupted beyond the point of redemption.

Okay, so what dud I really want to talk about? Oh, right: Katsuki's obsession with strength.

We see this about three times in the manga. The first time is when Katsuki is saved by All Might at the USJ. He quickly dismisses Izuku's praise of him dodging because he didn't dodge: All Might pushed him out of danger. He won't take credit for a feat he didn't do. This segues into the second instance: his fight with Shoto. He wants Shoto to go all out in order to prove once and for all that he's the strongest in their class. Only Shoto is going through personal issues that Katsuki knows about because he eavesdropped. Even when Shoto manages to releaae his flames, he quickly snuffs them out because change is gradual; he still has to get used to the new implications of using his fire. (Sidenote: not an excuse for Katsuki's dickish behavior. Tenya and Shoto were initially percieved as assholes, and they managed to bridge that disconnect eons before Katsuki has.) Of course Katsuki's pissed at this, but I feel like he completely ignores Shoto's personal baggage and instead focuses soley on his physical strength. We'll get back to that later, but for now, let's move on to the third incident I can recall from the top of my head: Katsuki vs Setsuna. Remember that part of the Joint Training Arc where Katsuki saves Kyoka, because he FINALLY understands that saving people is important? Well, yes, but partially no. Katsuki didn't save Kyoka because of whatever goodness there was in his heart; he saved her because he thought getting a 4-0 victory was something worthy of the strongest heroes, and he even explicitly stated this. He's still focused on strength, and completely ignoring the more social aspects if heroism aside from prestige.

Remember after Deku vs Kacchan 2, where All Might says he focused too much on Katsuki's physical strength and not his emotional strength. Yeah, he's not the only one...

Katsuki himself never pays attention to the emotional side of himself. Years upon years of praise and his own decisions have led him to believe that his strong quirk and overall strengths are all he needs to become a hero. His brutal and excessive technique makes him a powerhouse to be reckoned with, but it also makes him predictably stubborn. Running away isn't an option, he has to duke it out with no remorse. The Number One Hero is about to curb stomp you? Don't run away and pass the test, try beating his ass and end up losing your lunch! Potentially dangerous villains trying to kidnap you? No worries, just keep fighting because you're a badass and no one tells you what to do- and oh, you got kidnapped. Even when confronting Izuku on his quirk, the possibility of Izuku getting his quirk for something other than physical prowess is a foreign concept for Katsuki. He ignores any and all chances of it being possibility, going so far as telling Izuku to shut up when he tries to explain himself, and even outright attacking Izuku after he tries deescalating the fight multiple times, only conceeding to Katsuki because he believes he's responsible for Katsuki to some extent (because Shonen Protagonist).

His obsession with strength is in character, but dear God it's getting old... and it's selfish.

Virtually everyone else trying to be a hero has a reason for getting stronger that isn't inherently to flaunt their superiority. Ochako? She wants to make money so her folks can rest easy. Tenya? He wants to live up to his family's legacy. Shoto? He wants to be able to protect his mom. Eijiro? He wants to be like his chivalrous idol, Crimson Riot. Izuku? He wants to get a better grasp on his quirk so he can save more people. Katsuki? He wants to prove that he's better than All Might from a physical standpoint, using the title of "Number One Hero" to elevate his status and earn the attention of everyone around him.

...see the disconnect?

I don't have a well thought out conclusion to this mess, so I'm just gonna close with this tidbit: Katsuki and Izuku sometimes do the same things for different reasons. Getting mad at Shoto? Izuku wants Shoto to go all out because everyone else is going all out, and he wants Shoto to move past his father's control; Katsuki wants Shoto to go all out because he wants to prove he's undoubtedly stronger. Idolizing All Might? Izuku admires All Might's ability to inspire and save people; Katsuki just pays attention to the physical strength and prestige, electing to ignore everything else. Saving people? Izuku saves people selflessly, with no inherent regard towards himself (he will gladly break a few bones or risk doing so just to save kids, for crying out loud); Katsuki only saves people because it strokes his own ego (the only time he ever truly went beyond was in an unnecessary fight against All Might; Two Heroes is the only exception). I'm pretty sure the list goes on.

I just hope that Katsuki learns somehow, some way, that physical strength isn't everything. Victory isn't everything. 'Cause if he doesn't, he's in for a world of hurt...

...and it's not gonna be something he can just explode and be done with.

-Crimson Lion (6 September 2019)

[hail-the-supreme-leader-kylo-ren]

EPISODE IX PREDICTIONS, HOPES, & DISCUSSION

This is a deep dive into the thoughts and questions I’ve been accumulating in regards to what might happen in Episode IX. (Sorry, it’s quite a long post).

My character predictions:

KYLO/BEN: My beautiful boy Ben is going to get redemption first and foremost. FACT. I’m so excited to see how it will go down though, so many possibilities. What’s going to be that final catalyst for Ben to finally stop resisting the Light? When we left Kylo/Ben in TLJ he had gained all the power he once sought, and yet he was utterly miserable. But, importantly Luke showing up on Crait offered Kylo that critical cathartic release he needs for the next step in his redemption journey. Looking back, TFA started with Kylo ordering a village massacre, and finished with him killing his father. We see progress in TLJ, as the act of committing patricide has been eating Kylo/Ben alive with regret and guilt, he then later cannot kill his mother, and instead he kills his tormentor, Snoke, to save Rey. So following this pattern of reversal, I predict in IX he’ll selflessly save a large group of people (the direct opposite of the original village massacre). It’s going to be so interesting to see how will he go with being The Supreme Leader of The First Order, as the evidence shows his ideology doesn’t really align with the Order. I feel like he’ll simply keep using The First Order for the sole purpose of destroying his mother’s Resistance, in a fruitless attempt to ‘kill his past’. Ultimately though, this story is about achieving balance between the Light and the Dark, not just in the force or the galaxy but also in oneself. Ben will need to accept the Light and the Dark sides in himself, and will have to come to this conclusion completely via his own initiative. Han (via Leia’s push), Luke, and Rey have all tried to convince him to the Light so far, to no avail.

REY: Strong Rey has been through a hell of a lot with Kylo/Ben in both films, and Luke in TLJ. She’s had to face her deepest fear that she’s ‘nobody’ and that her parents ‘aren’t coming back for her’. But despite this she has actually found belonging and empowerment along the way. Her self identity is in fact stronger than ever now (while Kylo/Ben is the opposite, he’s still having an identity crisis). I predict that in IX, Rey will be just as fearless and resilient as ever, but also more mature, less naive. Her relationship with the Resistance is interesting because in TFA Finn was lying to her about him belonging to the Resistance, so she was never actively apart of it, and then she was kidnapped by Kylo. Similarly, she sought Luke out for Leia (and the Resistance) in TLJ, but this was mostly a personal journey she undertook. She pursued turning Kylo/Ben to the Light, ‘for the Resistance’s sake’, but it was ultimately for her own sake. So I think that she might not completely feel like she belongs in the Resistance. It’s a sure thing, that she’ll still try to help them out how she can, but I predict it’ll once again be on her own ‘force’ related solo mission (because this fits her film narrative formula). This may be how she crosses paths with Kylo again? Also related to the Resistance, I have this gut feeling that she may clash heads with Poe over his decision making (IDK why, I just do). In terms of other predictions, it seems to be a given that she’ll repair the legacy Skywalker lightsaber, this is what Rey has done her whole life, salvage and repair. In regards to Ben, she’s learnt her lesson, and I truly believe she hasn’t given up on him, she just now knows that it has to be HIS decision to join the Light Side, she can’t ask him again – it won’t work. Like the TLJ novel states, she’s good at waiting, so deep down she’ll be waiting for him to eventually make the right decision. Also another prediction for Rey, is that the arm scar she got during the Throne Room fight will feature prominently in at least one on screen moment. I imagine it will go something like, she’s getting ready putting her satchel on etc, and looks down at her arm and remembers Ben/Kylo and that epic moment they fought together. Now Rey has a scar to remember him, and he too has one to remember her. ~swoons~ The recent costume leak (re: arm band) seem to support this scar’s significance further, but I initially thought that the scar would be important because LF chose to feature it on the damn TLJ poster.

THE WAR/THE BALANCE: This is the final film in the sequel trilogy, and this series is called “Star Wars” so I’m predicting more war, duh. However, we’ve already seen the Light side win over the Dark in the original trilogy, but it didn’t work – the Dark still rose back up. That’s why, this time round something’s got to be different. The Resistance can’t just defeat The First Order, I don’t think that’s going to cut it. TLJ expressed the nuisances of war, with the Resistance bombers and members dying, and also the large First Order crew who would’ve died on the dreadnaught. It really stuck with me what DJ said to Finn, “They blow you up today, you can blow them up tomorrow”. Maybe this wasn’t a precursor for IX, and was just Rian being Rian. But I still predict that Rey and Ben will team up again in this movie, but stay together this time, and they will initiate something like a ceasefire between the two sides, ending the vicious endless cycle of war that has plagued the galaxy for decades now. Ben and Rey are ‘the chosen one’ who will finally bring balance to the Force. It will be very interesting to see how this balance will be portrayed in a larger galactic scale.

FINN: Don’t get me wrong, I love my boy Finn, but to be honest on paper he is quite a one dimension character in regards to how he’s treated in these films. LF could’ve focused on his traumatic upbringing in The First Order and his emotions towards his ex-fellow troopers. Instead they have brushed past it, having Finn gunning down Storm Troopers with no second thought. (I guess they have the traumatic childhoods of Rey and Kylo to focus on instead). So the only prediction I have for him is that he will truly earn the title of ‘Resistance Hero’ in IX. Because in both the TFA and TLJ, he either left or tried leaving to save himself or save Rey, but by the end of TLJ he was finally committed to fighting for the Resistance’s cause (due largely to Rose’s influence).

POE: Poe was originally supposed to die in TFA, and in that movie he was really just a pilot (‘the best one in the Resistance’ though). In TLJ, he was still a pilot, but also shown to be cocky and impulsive, so the aim of TLJ was to teach him how to become a better leader, like Leia etc. So no doubt, in IX he’ll be making much better leadership calls, and assessing the risks more wisely. HOWEVER, it has been pointed out before how Poe, somewhat corrupts Holdo’s line of “We are the spark that will ignite the fire that will restore the Republic”, into “We are the spark that will light the fire that will burn the First Order down” this leads me to the juicy personal prediction (that probably won’t happen but...) maybe Poe in IX will turn into a ‘Coin’ like character, from the Hunger Games. Where Poe makes some very destructive calls, because he takes the war waaaay too far. I’m imagining this being Poe vs Hux, and it just keeps escalating and escalating in bloodshed. Hey, like I said, this probably won’t eventuate.

HUX: It seems obvious at this point that Hux is going to fail spectacularly again, for the third and final time. In TFA, his precious Starkiller Base was blown up. In TLJ, a dreadnought was destroyed under his watch, and then he lost his chance to become Supreme Leader as quickly as the opportunity arose. I predict that once he’s surrendered he’ll either sit there hilariously glaring everyone down, or pull the weasel move and beg/plead for his life. Regardless, it’ll be entertaining. Some might think that Hux is a serious military threat, and maybe in this film he might finally rise to the occasion. But throughout TLJ in particular, he was a laughing stock, and being completely honest Hux poses no serious threat to Kylo Ren. Kylo could end Hux’s life with the force or his saber, or both, within a mere second. WATCH YA BACK HUX. In all seriousness though, Hux will probably take every opportunity to undermine Kylo’s leadership – I know that. Man, do love their hate-hate colleague working relationship. 

I’m looking forward to:

More Reylo scenes – need I say more?

More Force Bond sessions, because we damn well know it ain’t gone

Seeing Kylo Ren The Supreme Leader, acting as such, sitting in his throne, and ya know just generally running The First Order (eeeeep!)

Simply seeing more Kylo scenes in general, because let's be real, Kylo/Rey/Finn are the true trio, and this is the final movie so this is our chance to finally see more of his POV. This will also be crucial to the redemption story too, as the general audience will probably need a lot more information about him to be onboard for his redemption

My favourite comedy duo Poe and Finn will be back together again at last! I cannot wait for the new banter and shenanigans with these two

John Williams’ amazing final SW score

All the new costumes/hair styles (It’s very wishful thinking but I would low-key love if the characters changed costumes at Padmé's rate)

I know the sequel trilogy hasn’t had the largest scale of cityscape world-building, but ya never know!

I’m one of those people that fell in love with the Knights of Ren during that brief rainy flashback in TFA, so hopefully they make an appearance, after all what’s a ‘Master’ of Ren without those he masters?

I’m curious to see:

What kind of leader will Kylo be of the First Order? And how is his leadership in general is tracking, is it threatened (i.e. Hux)?

How will Finn and the rest of the Resistance react to Rey being a ‘Jedi’? in TFA everyone except Kylo (and the FO, I guess) were ignorant to the fact that Rey was Force Sensitive. Obviously the resistance noticed Rey force lifting rocks at the end of TLJ, so now they’re all in the loop. Will Finn think she’s ‘changed’? (This is specifically discussed by Finn and Rose in the TLJ novel actually)

Similarly, how will the resistance react to Rey being connection to Kylo, both emotionally and via the force? (They are undeniably connected now thanks to TLJ). How will they react if they ever find out about the Throne Room? ~This is so juicy to consider~

How romantic will Reylo actually be on screen? Will there be an epic kiss? (God, I hope so)

Will Leia survive this trilogy? Han and Luke haven’t, so there’s that...

Will we get the “return to mother” moment (re: reverse Anidala), of Kylo and Leia? If she doesn’t die, this seems like a no brainer

Will the Jedi teachings (the ancient texts) even be a big deal in IX? Luke wasn’t their biggest fan after all. What opinion will Rey take?

What role will Rose play within the resistance this time round? I think it’s going be more prominent; e.g. she’ll be at the decisions making table alongside Poe, Finn, and Leia

Will there be any tie-back to the ‘original’ chosen one, Anakin, to bring this story full circle? Anakin was supposed to ‘bring balance to the Force’ after-all (even though we know Ben and Rey are going to do this)

If the KoR are in IX, will they be Kylo’s blindly pledged allies, and then during his redemption journey will they turn into foes?

With Snoke, the ‘man behind the curtain’ puppeteer style villain being gone, does there need to be a new threat/villain? Is there room for that in the story this late in the game?

Will there be more Force Ghosts in IX, now that Yoda has set a precedent by appearing in TLJ?

If/when Rey and Ben team up again, how will this be possible this time round with Kylo being Supreme Leader of The First Order? Will he chose to leave the Order, or be forced to leave early on in the film?

With Rey and Ben united, will we see some new awesome powerful Force moments? Like how Leia rescued herself in TLJ, or how Kylo froze Poe’s blaster fire, or hell, how Force Ghost Yoda conducted lighting?!

[ergomaria]

Miles to Go Before I Sleep - Chapter 08

"So, none of you know anything useful?" Vann waited a few moments just to confirm this fact before snarling, "Well, that's just great. I'm so glad I spent two years being tortured just to come home and learn that the Jedi Order used the time to run and hide from their problems rather than confronting anything head-on. Kriffing Sith hells, it's good to see that some things never change you karking cowards!"

The anger surging beneath Vann's skin was comforting in its familiarity, and he clung to it even though he knew this was the worst possible time to lose his temper. But he'd just confirmed that the past two years had been spent collecting information to save an Order that clearly valued him more dead than alive. As that realization settled cold in his gut, the raw power of his outrage coursed through his body. He heard Carth pointedly hiss between his teeth while making a show out of rubbing his own eyes, the message clear. But Vann couldn't bring himself to care that his irises had turned an eerie shade of yellow, the drastic color shift likely projecting over the comm system.

As though to confirm this, Atris sneered, "It's also good to know that you're as weak and corrupt as ever."

"You've never known a damned thing about me," Vann shot back, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. Ever since his first conversation with Meetra back on the Hawk, small glimpses of his childhood had been filtering back in disjointed dreams. He often woke gasping for air, his heart hammering as loneliness clawed at his chest.

"I'm just a prodigy that the Council heaped responsibilities onto even though you knew that it was isolating me from the rest of my peers. You gave me extra assignments and encouraged me to do my own research, but you never considered the fact that every new piece of information I absorbed enabled me to see beyond your doctrine and think for myself. And then, when I finally dared to use everything that you made me learn, you told me that I was wrong. That I was too arrogant, too manipulative, and too impulsive. But really, the only thing I've ever been is exactly what the Order made me."

"It's true." Meetra's tone was soft, unlike the firm-yet-comforting hand she placed on her friend's shoulder.

Hearing this confirmation only increased Vann's inner fury. "And while we're at it, can we talk about how you took one of the most talented and promising Consulars that the Order has ever seen and treated her like bantha fodder? All Meetra ever wanted was to do was to help others and create a lasting harmony throughout the galaxy. You're lucky she realized that words don't always work and that direct action is sometimes needed in response to genocide."

"I'm not as gifted as you make me sound." Slender fingers tightened their grip as Meetra's presence was clouded by doubt.

"You and the rest of the Council labeled this brilliant woman as a monster when she acted to save the entire kriffing Republic. Yet, she still had enough faith in the Jedi to return to the Order at her lowest point. And you threw that trust back in her face when you refused to help, all so that you could gloat that the Council was right and the Revanchists were wrong!" Turning away from the holograms projected on the table, Vann made an obscene hand gesture towards the Masters before declaring, "I'm done with this karking farce of a conversation."

Meetra opened her mouth to add something and then paused, her brow furrowing as she clearly debated what to say. When she finally spoke her voice was balanced, but tight with emotion. "Vann is right. We bled for the Republic and you hid behind our sacrifice to earn back the people's trust. You publicly called us heroes even as you privately doubted every choice we made."

"You were so young," Kavar insisted. "We had good reason to doubt your decisions."

"You're right, we were little more than children!" Pain laced each word Meetra spoke, the weight of her memories audible in every syllable. "I was nineteen years old when you gave us permission to join the war effort and twenty when we officially became the Republic Mercy Corps. I wasn't even a Knight, I still needed, the Masters' guidance. But you refused to provide it because you didn't want to take responsibility for who we became. Youhad an opportunity to guide us, but you declined it."

Bowing his head Vann guiltily admitted, "I tried to guide you and the rest of the Revanchists… but we all saw how that turned out."

"You did the best you could for someone who was still struggling to find your own path. Hells, you were only twenty when they made you a Knight, twenty-one when you realized that the Mandalorians had to be stopped, and twenty-four when you found yourself in charge of a group of Jedi on the cusp of war. You were so young and idealistic that you never realize how hard that task would be…"

"Because Jedi should never go to war," Vrook stated bluntly while staring at the two Force users.

"For once you're entirely right. And now you understand why so many of the Revanchists ceased to be Jedi and found our own codes. War forced us to realize that passion can lead to peace and knowledge can be found through power and strength. Most importantly, we learned that victory can bring about harmony."

Atris sucked in a sharp breath. "Blasphemy!"

"Only to someone who sat safely in the Council chambers while war raged around you. Someone who was willing to let the Republic fall in the name of patience and wisdom even when you felt the agony that filled the Force as the Mandalorians slaughtered people by the millions. If the inability to stand idly by as innocents are murdered makes us blasphemes against the Jedi Order, then we're proud to wear that title."

"We did not stand idly by…"

Kavar interrupted Atris's excuses with a sharp glare. "Yes, we did. That blood is on our hands."

It was unsurprising when the Echani Master disconnected her comm unit with a scoff of disgust. The truly shocking moment came when Kavar and Vrook remained, neither uttering a sound as Meetra continued to speak.

"I abandoned the Jedi Code when I went to war, but at least I did so with good reason. You abandoned me… us… when we needed you the most, all to soothe your wounded pride. And yet, we corrupted individuals are willing to aid your Order in its most desperate hour, not because we love the Jedi but because it's the right thing to do."

"We both died in our own ways to save the galaxy," Vann noted with a heavy note of irony. "For most people, that would be more than enough. But we're heading back into the fray because your asses still need our help. Kinda says something, doesn't it?"

Both Vrook and Kavar said nothing for several long moments, their expressions blank as they avoided eye contact with everyone else in the room. The silence stretched on for so long that Carth began to shift uncomfortably, glancing nervously at the Force users.

It was Kavar who finally broke the quiet as he bowed his head and admitted, "I… I cannot speak for the rest of the Council, but I for one am sorry for not being a better man."

Read the whole chapter on FF.net and AO3!

[homestuckclassics]

Homestuck Christwire Article

a satire puritanical essay on Homestuck

archive source: personally archived

The Homestuck and its Various Evil Agendas

This is a comprehensive paper on the sinful nature of the “web comic” known as Homestuck. A term better suited for a cesspool of disgusting, amoral filth such as this would be a “hell pathway” as reading and embracing this Devil’s work is a certain one way trip to the darkest pit.

Homestuck is authored by a man known as Andrew Hussie. A more fitting term for this wretch would be “Shamdrew Hussatan” as his entire Dark Ruse is a mere ploy to appease the lord which he serves. I have never seen any evidence of him attending a Christian church, so therefore we must assume that his work is the work of the Destroyer, Satan of Hell.

My children heard about this in their youth retreat some weeks ago. I watch them and guide them like any servant of Him would do, but I also wish to let them explore the world. My children live with me in our house stationed behind my ministry. They are faithful souls and even the youngest child (Kristi, 24) has been allowed to leave the front yard and retrieve the mail from the mailbox on her own due to having been raised in the Light of the Lord. Nothing could sway her. That is, until Homestuck.

The body of this paper will discuss the sinful nature of this demonic tapestry of violence, sodomy, and general depravity against Him and document the horrors caused by this “Shamdrew” on the youths of America.

I will open with this verse:

“You must not have any other god but me.”- Exodus 20:3

Homestuck centers on the creation of a Hellscape via a video game known as “SBRB”. Aside from the fact all video games are violent, uncouth, and teach sin and depravity, the nature of the game is to spit in the face of Our Lord. The main character, John Egbert, intentionally named after a biblical entity to further spit on all that is right, seeks to become God in order to create the universe in his own sinful, orgy filled, primitive, ignorant manner.

The offender in “God clothes” which resemble a lewd sperm with a tail.

He learns how to become god via a demon or “Troll” known as Vrickers who is a depraved sexual deviant from “Atlantia” the home of the “Trolls”

A “troll” or little devil. She lusts for the seed of the Dissenter, John.

This is clearly an obvious stab at all the is Right. A demon helping a godless heathen attain “god” status? Blasphemy without further explanation. “Shamdrew” likely is very confident with his brain washing scheme, so an obvious ploy like this goes over the head of his feebleminded slaves.

The next section centers around the perversion in Homestuck. My oldest sun, Ben (37) was speaking to my other two twin children, Nicky (31) and Steven (31), and was telling a lewd joke about a “pail” which is a Troll or “devil” metaphor, for unprotected same sex premarital intercourse.

You see fellow parent, the goal of the “Trolls” is to force the humans who are already to corrupt into a frenzied orgy, thus earning Dark “Kismessis” Energy for their “Negative” version of Jesus Christ,"The Sufferer"

Do not commit adultery. (Exodus 20:14)

Yes! Do NOT commit adultery! Do not let Shamdrew force your children into his crazed game of “Buckets” that the “Trolls” invented. The sigils on their chest designate their rank. The closer to Tyrian Purple, the more souls tainted. Fifi, the most popular, queen of the trolls, is a master adulteress and on her “page update” she has subliminal messages that encourages adultery.

If you stare into her lifeless devil eyes, weaker heathen minds become filled with lust.

My daughter, Em (33) has perhaps been changed the most by this Homestink atrocity. She used to mind herself quietly in her Children’s Room with the boys and her sisters and look at her Donald Duck toys. She loved ducks as a whole, but after Homestink infected our house, she has changed. She now back talks, informs me “about the stairs” (likely stairs to HELL) and says “It keeps happening” likely because Homestuck opened a door to Hell in a metaphoric sense and Satan is overcoming her.

Homestuck’s use of music in it’s “Flash” animations contains satanic messages that weaker minds not as faithful as one like mine, succumb to. Case in point please click here at your own risk and play backwards:

http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/how-do-i-live-bunny-back-in-the-box-version

How do I live without you SATAN is a more fitting title. When played backwards, I, in my own opinion heard “Come…..into the dark…………death to…………..light…” and backwards Satanic garble. I blame this “music team” for this intentional brain control. These Malicious Minstrels are simply Shamdrew’s puppets and I would advise all parents to destroy their speakers immediately.

Lastly, I present:

You also took the fine jewelry I gave you, the jewelry made of my gold and silver, and you made for yourself male idols and engaged in prostitution with them.- Ezekiel 16:17

This sums up this Homestink without question. Shamdrew takes money for his risqué clothing items shown below, and uses them to create a mindless body of prostitute devil worshippers to fulfill the will of the “Sufferer” or, Satan.

The prostitution rags in question.

Each rag contains an unholy sigil to show the child’s allegiance to the Dark One, Shamdrew.

Parents I urge you, stop Homestink. Burn your computers, lock your doors, and pray. The end is near thanks to this depraved piece of stink-rot.

God bless,

Mr. M.,

[theophenes]

The one where Mike talks about Wrestling, because writing plots for other people’s characters is easier.

fOkay, so I’ll be the first to admit that it’s been a while since I’ve actually seen more than friggin’ clips, but there are two things that have recently been trending, that have stuck in my brain:

John Cena wants and Undertaker match, despite the fact that Taker is getting too damn old for this shit.

And the current tag team champions are Bray Wyatt (basically some sort of yokel cult leader with a rocking chair who convinces everyone under him to rock beards) and Matt Hardy (Equally crazy, regularly changes personality by walking into a lake, pretty certain he thinks he’s some sort of God or something)

The reality is that Taker, as much as he is the original god-damned icon, and one of the longest standing people in this business, the reality is that he needs to retie. And frankly, he deserves to retire in fucking style. No amateur shit. No small-time stuff. Nah, he needs to o to hell in a balze of glory. Frankly, this would take msot of a year to set up, but it’d be good. 

It starts simply enough. We get a few of the usual promos leading up to Halloween, through September and October. Weird jump cuts, random shots of Taker shoveling dirt, dragging the coffin, et cetera, the usual stuff. All hype, no clear knowledge.

Mean while, the tag team belt goes up in August, and is lost to, crap, I dunno, Brand new day in a 3v3 (Not like they couldn’t get a third for this, we’ll say Wray brings back Randy Orton under the Freebirds precedent). Anyhow. Hardy blames Wray for bringing in “The Serpent, whose energy corrupted our team” and Wray “Questions the convictions of a broken man.” By mid october, they’re regularly not helping each other in tag matches. Wray decides to put Matt’s convictions to godhood to the test, pushing him to fight the symbol of his failing resolve: A tag-team of Jeff Hardy and Daniel Bryant, doing the team high-flyer bullshit that makes and audience roar. This becomes a feature event at the end of september. It goes badly. Wray manages a win, but he has to go dirty to do it, forcing Matt to snap between his personae to save Jeff from a near-fatal blow at the last minute. Bryant gets to be angry about a bunch of things, and looks good while the audience watches him get a dramatic fake injury.

First week of October, Cena gets a match against Seamus, makes a big monologue (he loves making fun of that guy, seems like a good warm-up) and the match goes on, but is interrupted by Kane, in the classic demon mask (You didn’t think Kane wouldn't get to be the last big Taker story, did you?). He bombs Seamus, causing Cena to lose by DQ. He then grabs a mic. “You demanded my brother’s head at Wrestlemania,” he begins, growling in his usual ominous routine. “You demanded the dead man. You claim to rise above the hate. To be beyond it. Above it. You are not above death, Cena. Death takes all. Death...consumes us. Empowers us. In order to defeat Taker, in order to earn it, you must first fight the true Demon. Slay the demon, and you shall have your match with death!”

Dramatic? Over the top? Damn straight. Bray Wyatt, lacking a tag team partner, gos back into singles matches. He gets into some okay fights, but cuts promos going back to creepy shit, occasionally cut by taker. Everyone knows the match. Bane and Cena doing a cage match. Bryatt, meanwhile, seems crazier than usual. Mumblings about prophecies. About angels and devils. Claiming that the only way to defeat the false gods is to slay a Demon, and taunt death. Everyone thinks he’s talking about Cena. He’s not.

In a few weeks, we get our pay-per-view. A cage match between Bane and Cena. No interruptions. But before it, a new match. Daniel Bryant versus Finn Balor Tables. Bryant decides to wear his cape, Fina goes out in his more normal get-up (the classic paint was nixed because fighting Marvel and Disney over the Venom resemblance seemed like a bad play a month after the movie). Bray Wyatt, shows up, interfering on Bryant’s behalf, although Bryant clearly doesn’t want the help. Ominous masked figures, doing the weird cult thing, grab Balor after the count, running with the body. Wray knocks down the security trying to stop him, and just grins at Bryant. Cena fights Bane, and wins in the rather boring way he usually does.

In November, he gets another promo, where he explains/sermonizes that the demon’s blood was strong enough, after being tested by the dragon. However, it required a cleasning, holy power to draw its true strength out.

After a series of escalating matches where Bryant ends up defeating multiple former members of the Wyatt family, and removing their “brain-washing” by kicking their ass in the ring, Bray and Daniel get a PPV feud going. Bray “summons” his demon Finn in a new look during the match after the lights flicker, and then they fight. The new “Demon of Wyatt” runs amok, and then the match ends.

The new, Wyatt-endorsed “Evil Finn” persona shows up, with perfectly normal Finn doing perfectly normal face stuff, and demon Finn doing weird heel stuff. They never acknowledge each other’s actions or bouts.

 In January, we get more Taker promo’s. Two weeks in, at Raw, Cena has a match, and it ends with the ring going dark. Taker emerges. He grabs the mic. “You have defeated my brother, and we are good to our word. At wrestlemania, we will fight.”

Cena hesitates. “We?“

Taker grins. “Soon, you will learn.”

Bray gets more ambitious, deciding to tag-team with Demon Finn for the tag championship. They win, but again, the stage darkens. Kane emerges, saying there can only be one demon. Only one monster. Bray agrees, and says the mosnter will fight on Raw, in February. However, each demon msut offer their flesh, to prove who is mightier. Bray spends time as Demon Finn’s “manager/handler” in the interim, while Kane occasionally shows up and power bombs somebody to prove his point. They get their fight. However, Kane, being a crafty, weird half-demon, decides to make it a tag-team event. “A demon should bring his sorcerer,” he declares, and who else comes out to confront Wyatt? Jeff hardy, wearing some bizarre, hell-fire outfit, chanting sorcerous lines. Hardy and Wray brawl. Finn and Kane fight. They lose the title, as demon-king Hardy distract Wray, causign him to lose “control” over Finn.

However, Wray has another dirty trick up his sleeve. The same masked cultists that kidnapped Balor appear, and take the weakened Kane and Hardy, overwhelming them with numbers, dragging them away, one of them helping a now-titleless Wray limp out of the arena, leaving the title in the air (this gives management a chance to use a 2v2v2 tag-team event to decide who should get the belt at a big pay-per-view or foreign show).

 Another week passes, and another. We get a new promo segment. In it, we have video of Bray holding the mask of Kane, and the hair of Hardy. He rambles on, about having stolen the mantles of the great demon and the false prophet, and now only needing death’s own head for his collection. He claims to have stripped them of their falsehoods, leaving them to rot.

A new, clean Kane that resembles the corporate look, no mask, no growl, and a weirdly sedate Hardy appear on stage for a few weeks. Jeff and Matt go back to being a tag team again, while the “new” Kane takes some time off for now. 

It’s almost March, we’re near to Wrestlemania, and people are talking. Where is Kane. Is Bray going to debut his plan at Wrestlemania? Why haven’t we heard from Taker all month?

Three weeks before the big night, answers come. Taker appears, alone, monologueing. Cena interrupts the monologue half-way through, because Cena never lets anyone else talk. Cena goes on about how he’ll take on the Undertaker, how he’ll fight and win, because that is what he does. Cena demands his match at Wrestlemania, and gloats about how he defeated Kane--and the lights darken, silently.

When the lights go back on, We see the ring surround by masked figures, the Wyat family’s strange enforcers we see Bray standing there, looking at the other too, smiling. He speaks about he too, has defeated the demon, and throws Kane’s mask at Takers feet, spitting on it for good measure. “You desire vengeance, dead man?”

Taker holds up two fingers. “Two coffins, then.”

Bray smiles. “I’ll bring one for you, your brother wasn’t using it.”

Wrestlemania. Half a year of build-up. Cena enters first, with his usual fanfare. He charges in heroically. He waves to the crowd.

The next entry is Taker, complete with the old entrance. The druids, cloaked and hidden, not seen for years, bring in the coffin.A brief montage of the dead man shows up, but he arrives at the ring confident. Angry. Ready.

Wyatt arrives, flanked by his cult. his champion, Finn, is pushing a different coffin, cast in what looks like iron. It seems to smoke. Finn is wearing what looks like a remodeled version of Kane’s face mask. It looks more like an Alice Cooper video, to be honest.

The match begins, Cena and Wyatt both charging for Undertaker. Taker holds up well--he still has the skills, but it’s two on one, both eager to put taker in the coffin. And then, right when it looks like Bray has the pin, Cena on the floor in pain, the gray coffin opens, and out comes Kane, charging over the ropes at Bray. Finn attempts to stop him, but gets knock to the floor. Kane alternates between fighting Bray and punching Taker, because if anyone is going to end Taker, it’s Kane, damnit.

This four-way clusterfuck lasts for over half and hour. Pins, chokeslams, stunners, lariats, the damn works. After an eternity of fighting, Cena and Kane manage to toss wray into the wooden coffin--and it breaks in two. He returns the favor, whipping Kane into the “stone coffin,” which shatters. Cena gets chucked through the Spanish announcers table, because it should never survive. Taker gets pinned by Wray. Cena pins Kane. They face each other. Wray, making a show over the fallen Taker, performs the Last Ride on Cena. Cean kicks out, attempts and STF on Wray. Wray has no choice but to prove himself as the Dead Man’s successor, forcing him to imitate the Tombstone piledriver.

After the bell is called, the four men slowly walk out of the Arena, happy to Retire the Phenom with a true potent successor. Bray, as tribute, starts wearing the dramatic leather from time to time. Finn occasionally uses the Kane mask during a PPV entrance. And both of these men get to retire to the hall of fame in style, knowing their legacies, of the undead cult-leader and his twisted demon-spawn brother, are celebrated and honored by some damn talented wrestlers in this generation.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

A LOT OF WELL-KNOWN APPLICATIONS ARE NOW, LIKE BASECAMP, WRITTEN BY JUST ONE PROGRAMMER

It's common in technology for an innovation that decreases the cost of failing is becoming lower, we should expect founders to do it all yourself. It was no coincidence that so many famous speakers are described as motivational speakers.1 What if startups are both a new economic phase and also a type of business that flourishes in certain places that specialize in it—that Silicon Valley specializes in startups in the same way Los Angeles specializes in movies, or New York in finance.2 He was like Michael Jordan. Usually their motives are mixed. There's an idea that has turned out to be worth keeping; the bulk of it has had no effect at all.3 Hell if I know. At one end of the Bubble and still haven't invested. Within a few decades ago the largest organizations tended to be followed only by outsiders. When there's something in a painting that works very well, you can manufacture them by taking any project usually done by multiple people and trying to do it mean she tends to get written out of YC's history. The only defense is to isolate yourself, as communist countries did in the twentieth century.

It won't seem so preposterous in 10,000 years.4 A new medium appears, and people in these fields tend to be forced to work on problems you can treat formally, rather than for any practical need. The government knows better than to get into the novel business, but in other fields where they have to have practical applications. It can be worth participating in a corrupt contest, however, if it's followed by another that isn't corrupt.5 Bad as things look now, there is a lot of people make the same mistake I did. Like it or not, we started out doing. I think the top firms will actually make more money as founders' bitches than their bosses.6 A huge step, admittedly, and one could make a clean break just by taking a vote?7 And while it's impossible to say what is a lot of instincts, this one wasn't designed for the world we now live in. Of all the reasons we lie to kids is how broad the conspiracy is.

And yet you won't be able to test in an hour, then you have the prospect of an immediate reward to motivate you. For products of nature that might work.8 Tradition is less of a guide, not just because fakers and opportunists are annoying, but because the principles underlying the most dynamic part of the economy always does, in everything from salaries to standards of dress. Western philosophy really begins with Socrates, Plato, and particularly in oil painting. I've never heard of a case where it worked. So what if some of the fund back to the institutional investors who supplied it, because they grow into the trees of the economy tend to be forced to work on a variety of things. Surely I'm not claiming that ideas have to have practical applications to be interesting? There are still a lot of time worrying about what I should do.

But there is a good way to learn.9 Into this already bad situation comes the third problem: Sarbanes-Oxley. Actually, there are several ideas mixed together in the concept of a state machine, in case you have to be good, but it has to be better at this than others. For good programmers, one of which is: You shouldn't put the blame on one parent, because divorce is never only one person's fault.10 All kids know it. We'd like to meet if you are. Chardin decided to skip all that and paint ordinary things as he saw them.11

If they aren't an X, why are they attached to all these arbitrary beliefs and customs? But I don't think this is a coincidence. So if one group abandons this territory, there will always be others ready to occupy it.12 Well, that may be fine advice for a bunch of evil machines, and one independent member. You have to justify.13 But it was also something we'd never considered a computer could be: fabulously well designed product. I'd give Berkeley's Principles of Human Knowledge another shot in college. So if one group abandons this territory, there will always be both supply and demand insures that: the more rewarding some kind of spin to put on it.

Notes

The reason Google seemed a lot online. Your mileage may vary.

I may try allowing up to them? I'm just going to create a web-based applications. Incidentally, Google may appear to be promising.

I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for the same work, the reaction might be an open source project, but hardly any type I. My point is that the valuation should be protected against being mistreated, because they had first claim on the scale that Google does. The company is presumably worth more to most people come to you as employees by buying an additional page to deal with the solutions. Survey by Forrester Research reported in their graphic design.

Unfortunately, making physically nice books will only be a big success or a community, or an electric power grid than without, real estate development, you have to give their associates the title partner, including that Florence was then the richest and most pharmaceutical startups the second wave extends applications across the web have sucked—new things start to be able to invest in it.

Don't even take a long time? It should be protected against such tricks, you'd get ten times as much income. But the usual way of doing that even this can give an inaccurate picture.

To a woman who, because at one point a competitor added a feature to their situation. The French Laundry in Napa Valley.

We try to make programs easy to get into the star it was spontaneous. Statistical Spam Filter Works for Me. You can just start from the revenue-collecting half of it in action, go talk to an audience of investors. A lot of problems, but that's a pyramid scheme.

If you want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. I wonder if they don't want to impress are not the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to tell them about your conversations with potential earnings. This has, like good scientists, motivated less by financial rewards than by selling them overpriced components. For example, it's because of some logical reason e.

But I think the usual way of doing that even this can give an inaccurate picture.

Some genuinely aren't. Acquirers can be useful here, since they're an existing investor, the better, because the ordering system, which I removed a pair of metaphors that made them register. A Plan for Spam.

But filtering out 95% of the most important section. The real danger is that the investments that failed, and also what we'd call random facts, like most of the 2003 season was 4.

How to Make Wealth when I first met him, but since it was worth about 125 to 150 drachmae. I read comments on really bad sites I can imagine cases where you get a false positive, this is not so much the better.

You should be especially conservative in this they're perfect.

[madewithonerib]

Judas’s Betrayal | John MacArthur [Mark 14:43–52]

I want you to open the Word of God to the gospel of Mark - the gospel of Mark and chapter 14. With some apology to our guests, we are near the end of this great gospel, and so much has gone on in the past that you have missed, but it is all available these days - isn’t it? - GTY.org. You can download our whole study of Mark along with everything else.

But as we come to chapter 14 of Mark, we find ourselves in verse 43 - verse 43. Let me read verses 43 through 52.

“Immediately, while He was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, came up accompanied by a crowd with swords and clubs who were from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders. Now, he who was betraying Him had given them a sign or a signal, saying, ‘Whomever I kiss, He is the one. Seize Him and lead Him away under guard.’ After coming, Judas immediately went to Him saying, ‘Rabbi,’ and kissed Him. They laid hands on Him and seized Him. But one of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his ear.

“And Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as you would against a robber? Every day I was with you in the temple teaching and you did not seize me. But this is taking place to fulfill the Scripture.’ And they all left Him and fled. A young man was following Him, wearing nothing but a linen sheet over his naked body, and they seized him. But he pulled free of the linen sheet and escaped naked.”

When I was a student in seminary, I was to write my dissertation before I could graduate. There were many subjects that I might have chosen to write a dissertation on, but my graduate dissertation was titled, “A Character Study of Judas Iscariot,” because even as a young man, in my early twenties, he was among the most fascinating people on the pages of Scripture, an incomprehensible unbeliever. How could someone spend three years, 24 hours a day, seven days a week in the presence of Jesus Christ and do what he did? How can anyone be that evil? That wicked? That self-serving? That callous? That hopeless?

I wrote the dissertation. The committee accepted the dissertation, and I graduated. And many decades have past, and I still can’t quite comprehend Judas. But let’s back up a little bit. The Jewish ruling council, the Supreme Court of Israel, was called the Sanhedrin. That simply means the gathering together. It was a collection of religious leaders. Some among the sect of the Sadducees who were religious liberals but most among the sect of the Pharisees who were religious conservatives and among the Pharisees, a group of scribes who were the law experts.

They were all religious leaders. After all, Israel viewed itself as a theocratic kingdom. God was King, and religious leaders, therefore, served God by disseminating His will and His Word into the life of the people. They didn’t necessarily agree on everything. They had strong agreement about how they interpreted the Scripture. As I said, the Sadducees were liberals and didn’t believe in the resurrection and didn’t believe in an afterlife and didn’t believe in angels. And the Pharisees believed in all of that.

And there were even divisions among them. They didn’t agree on everything. In fact, rarely did they agree on everything, but this time they agreed. They agreed right down to a man (with perhaps just one or two exceptions, like Joseph of Arimathea) but they were unanimous that they wanted Jesus dead - they wanted Him dead. They hated Him. They were jealous of His power, for who of them could raise the dead? Give sight to the blind? Hearing to the deaf? A voice to the mute? Who could make people walk? Heal them of all diseases? Deliver them from demons?

Who could create food? Control storms? Obviously, they were jealous of His power. They were also jealous of His popularity for His power had garnered Him popularity, the likes of which no person ever walking on this planet had received because none had ever done what He did. They were jealous of the accolades He received from the crowd. They hated His message. Theirs was a message of “earn your salvation by works” and His was a message of “repent for your sin and receive your salvation as a gift of grace,” and they hated that because they were proud and self-righteous. They wanted to earn their way in.

They hated Him so much because He was encroaching into their space. He was taking over their position and their popularity. And then, this week, their hatred of Him was amped up when on Monday, He arrived, came into the city, and there were hundreds of thousands of people hailing Him as the Messiah. That frightened them even more, made them more hostile toward Him. Then He came back on Tuesday, went right to the temple where the leaders of the Sanhedrin essentially ran temple operations, selling animals and exchanging money.

And it was nothing but the Israeli mafia, a den of robbers, Jesus said. And He went in and threw them out. One man by himself with hundreds of thousands of people massed around that massive courtyard, He went in, threw over the moneychangers, threw the buyers and sellers of animals and emptied the place of the bazaars of Annas, the former high priest who ran that. Came back on Wednesday to the debris lying around, commandeered the entire place, and for one solid day that place echoed with the truth coming out of His lips.

Those three days had sealed His fate for certain if there was any question at all about whether they wanted Him dead. They had a problem, however. Chapter 14 says, “They were afraid of the people.” How are you going to arrest this man? How are you going to pull off this execution with this kind of popularity? So in chapter 14, verses 1 and 2, they think, “Well, you know, maybe we’d better not do this during the festival.” They can barely hold their hatred in another day, let alone another week or two.

But they know that it might be a bad thing to try to do this in public. They know there will be some repercussions with the people and a riot could start. That’s not good. The Romans don’t like that. And maybe they couldn’t even handle the people. So they have a problem. They need to capture and arrest Jesus, shut Him down, and kill Him, but they need someone to point Him out in the darkness of the night when the crowds have all dispersed. But who? They can’t and offer themselves to one of His twelve apostles. As far as they know, they’re all loyal, and that’ll blow their plan.

They have to wait until someone shows up. Who would that be? Who would do that? Everybody who followed Him was enamored with Him. Who would be a betrayer of Jesus? The people were on the side of Jesus when He cleaned out the corruption in the temple because they were all the victims of it. They were paying ten times what you should pay for an animal to sacrifice. They were getting gouged on the coin exchange. Who was going to do this?

Amazingly, someone showed up. Chapter 14, verse 10, “Judas Iscariot, who is one of the twelve, went off to the chief priests in order to betray Him to them.” He initiated it. Amazing. People didn’t come to him and talk him into it, he initiated it. And they were glad when they heard this, verse 11. Yeah, where else were they going to find someone to do this? They promised to give him money and he said - another of the four gospels records, and it’s in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, all these events.

One of the other gospels says that he negotiated for 30 pieces of silver. They were willing to give him 30 pieces of silver (which, by the way, was the price of a slave). So he was willing to sell Jesus for the price of a slave, which is exactly the amount the Old Testament says that He would be sold for. Unwittingly, they fulfilled a prophecy that proves the validity, accuracy of the Old Testament. And so he began to seek how to betray Him at an opportune time. He’s got to find a time away from the crowds at night in the dark.

Well, you know what we’ve covered in Mark 14. It’s Thursday now, and they go together to an upper room where they have the final Passover, the final legitimate, official, Jewish Passover, and then our Lord institutes the Lord’s Table or the Communion service, the Lord’s Supper, with them there.

In the middle of that evening, that Thursday night, which goes essentially from sundown all the way to midnight - it’s a long, prolonged time in which our Lord does extensive teaching, recorded in John 13 to 16, and lots of things are happening. But one thing that happens is the issue comes up of the betrayal. The issue comes up that somebody is going to betray Him. Verse 18 of chapter 14, “They were reclining at the table and eating and Jesus said, ‘Truly I say to you, one of you will betray me - one of you who is eating with me.’” They were just absolutely shocked.

Judas was such an adept hypocrite, such a skilled hypocrite, that they had no idea it was Him. In fact, it says they began to be grieved and to say to Him, one by one, all of them, “Surely not I?” They no more thought it was Judas then they thought it was themselves. That’s how skilled he was as a hypocrite. Jesus said, “It’s one of the twelve. One of you who is dipping bread in the bowl with me. It’s one of you. For the Son of man is to go just as it is written of Him. But woe to that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed. It would have been good for that man if he had never been born.” Better never born than forever in hell.

So Jesus unmasked Judas. The rest didn’t get it, Judas did, and Satan entered into Judas, Scripture says, and Jesus sent him out and said, “Go and do what you do quickly.” So that Thursday night, Jesus is left with the eleven. Judas, who’s been looking for an opportune time now knows Jesus knows, leaves, goes to find the Sanhedrin members late Thursday night and set up the rendezvous. He knows where to find Jesus because he knows where Jesus and the disciples typically go at night. They go to the place where Jesus had just been, the garden of Gethsemane, from verses 32 to 42. He’d been there praying. That’s where they would go.

Now remember, there’s twelve apostles and Jesus. They were all pilgrims in Jerusalem. The place was basically drowning in population that came for the Passover. There weren’t a lot of places to stay. Probably the house of Mary and Martha and Lazarus couldn’t accommodate them all, so there was a rich person in the city who had a garden on the Mount of Olives who provided the garden for them, and they went there at night. It was a place that the Bible says they resorted to (John 18, Luke 22:39) and it says that Judas knew it well. He knew that’s where they’d be.

This is a perfect set-up for him. It’s out of the city, it’s on the Mount of Olives, and when the sun goes down in the ancient world, it’s really dark. And so he sets it up to take the leaders of Israel and their entourage to find Jesus in the darkness of the garden of Gethsemane.

Our Lord is already there by the time we come into this passage in verse 43 because He came there in verse 32. Verse 32 tells us that He came to Gethsemane, He was there for a few hours, praying. You remember His prayer, “Let this cup pass from me” - three times - “nevertheless, not my will but yours be done,” and He obeys the Father. I’ll go to the cross if that’s what you ask me to do, as horrific as it is to be alienated from you and be a sin bearer. He’s willing to do it.

While He’s praying, the disciples are sleeping. He warns them that it’s dangerous to sleep when you should be praying because temptation is coming. The prayer meeting is ended when you come down to verse 41, middle of the verse, “The hour has come. Behold, the Son of man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let’s be going. Behold, the one who betrays me is near.”

They’re up there. Here comes this entourage. And there are as many as a thousand of them in the crowd that’s coming. They can see the torches. They can hear the crowd moving. Our Lord sees it, says, “Prayer time is over. Let’s go.” And He doesn’t go the other way, He walks right into the crowd. That’s where we pick up the story in verse 43. And here, early in the darkness of Friday morning, everything begins to get into motion for the execution of Jesus. He will be dead by about three o’clock in the afternoon. That’s how fast this happens.

A betrayal, an arrest, two trials, one before Jews and one before Gentiles, each with three parts, a crucifixion and death - all by three o’clock. He’ll be in the grave before sundown, so he will be Friday in the grave, Saturday in the grave, and Sunday a portion of that day in the grave, rising later on Sunday morning so that He fulfills the prophecy of crucified and buried for three days. God is in control of all these details. These mindless unbelievers who hate Jesus are step-by-step fulfilling the plan of God and no less culpable for doing it because they did it out of the hatred of their own hearts.

All right, let’s step into the scene. First is the confronting crowd. “Immediately, while He was still speaking, still talking to His disciples, saying, ‘Let’s get up, let’s get going, Judas is here, they’re here” - Judas, one of the twelve - and it seems that that little descriptive of him, which we just read in another portion of this chapter, is the way Mark speaks the unbelieving idea that this man rejected Christ. He just can’t get over it - one of the twelve, one of the twelve, one of the twelve. How can that be?

Judas, one of the twelve, the ultimate tragedy, the man with the greatest opportunity and privilege that could ever happen to any person, to be with Christ, the Son of God, that man, one of the twelve. Busy night for him. Lord sent him out. Judas was filled with Satan. You know what a demon-possessed person is like in the text of Scripture, we have descriptions of them. Well, he’s possessed by Satan himself. There’s a sense in which the devil has taken over control of him. It’s a frantic night, then, for the devil-possessed Judas. He has to go find the Sanhedrin in the darkness of night.

Sometime, probably before midnight, before the Passover and Lord’s Table meal was over, he has to get permission from them to get together their resources because he thinks he knows where Jesus is going to be because this is where they go, to the Mount of Olives, and he’s familiar with it. And then he has to get permission from the Roman authorities to give soldiers to go along with the Jews because the Jews are afraid that even with their temple police, they couldn’t handle something if it began to happen, some kind of crowd revolt, if the word got out.

So permission has to be gained for Roman soldiers, and not a small group but a speiran is the Greek word used, a cohort. A full cohort would be six hundred Roman soldiers. And the Romans would have extra soldiers at Passover because of the massive influx of people. They would have them there for security.

And by the way, there had recently been a Jewish insurrection against the Romans. And they put that insurrection down, and that’s referred to in Mark 15:7, and one of the principals in that insurrection was a man named Barabbas - Barabbas.

So the Romans didn’t like insurrections. The Romans would have accommodated Judas. So it’s a busy night for this devil-possessed man, as he puts together the pieces of this little puzzle. Probably had to gain permission from Pilate himself, the governor.

But those places are so close by. Fort Antonia, where the Romans were and where Pilate was, is less than a minute walk across from the wall, the northeastern side of the temple, the northern wall of the temple. It’s all very close, and he was scrambling to get it all done. He had betrayed the location and, therefore, the Son of God for thirty pieces of silver.

So the crowd shows up. It says in verse 43, “They were with swords and clubs.” The swords would have belonged to the Romans, machaira is the word. They carried a small little dagger, a very lethal, sharp on two sides, two-edged dagger that they were very skilled at handling, for slitting throats and putting that dagger in the appropriate places to bring about a quick end to life. They were skilled with that. Clubs, they would have belonged to the temple police. The temple police didn’t use deadly weapons. They controlled crowds with billy clubs.

So here comes the temple police, who were normally the ones who took care of the temple security, along with the Romans with their swords. And we learn a little more about this. Also we learn from John 18:3, John gives us further details, that they came with torches and lanterns, the only way you could light the night. It was critical that they be able to see where they were going and locate the Lord at the appropriate moment. So out of the blackness, out of the middle of that night, comes this huge crowd, hundreds and hundreds of them together - mindlessly, cowardly, unjustly, and profanely coming for the purpose of killing the Son of God.

The traitor then identifies the Lord. He tells them how he’s going to do it. So you go from the confronting crowd to the betraying disciple. Verse 44, “He who was betraying Him had given them a signal” - or “a sign,” - “saying, ‘Whomever I kiss, He is the one.’” And then amazingly, Judas gives them the order, “Seize Him and lead Him away under guard.” He also hated Jesus. But if Satan was speaking through Peter when Peter said, “No, Lord, you’re not going to die,” Satan was certainly speaking through Judas when Judas said, “Seize Him and lead Him away under guard.”

By the way, this is a good indication that Jesus didn’t wear a halo or Judas would have said, “It’s the guy with the halo” or “It’s the guy with the supernatural glow on His face.” There was nothing external that could identify Jesus as divine. But there were obvious needs to be able to identify Him in the crowd and to make sure that somebody else didn’t step up and say, “I’m Jesus,” and then Jesus slide away and escape. The assumption was He would try to escape. That’s another reason for the force, that He would try to escape, that He wasn’t going to let this happen.

They didn’t want somebody else to pretend to be Jesus while He got away, so Judas says, “I’m going to mark Him out, I’m going to mark Him out.” “Whomever I kiss, He’s the one. Seize Him.”

A kiss, strong embrace, an ancient sign that could be delivered a number of ways. Slaves kissed feet. Inferiors kissed hands. And equals kissed cheeks. This is an equal. This is an act of affection, honor, love, respect. That makes it all the more ugly, doesn’t it? I mean we’ve all been betrayed. We all know that. But with a kiss, this is hypocrisy at its blackest. The man of sorrows had many sorrows, and He can add this to the list. Verse 45 says, “Judas was unhesitating. After coming, Judas immediately went to Him saying, ‘Rabbi, teacher,’ and kissed Him.”

By the way, the Greek verb kataphileō here means to kiss fervently - kiss fervently. It’s got a preposition added at the front which intensifies the verb. This was an ongoing affection, expression of an affection. This is reminiscent of the prodigal son coming home and the father - remember? - in Luke 15, receiving the prodigal and kissing him all over the head. Boy, Judas really put on a dramatic show of false affection, designed to make it unmistakable exactly who was the one so the soldiers would know. Luke adds this, Luke 22:48, “Jesus said, ‘Judas, are you betraying the Son of man with a kiss?’”

“Are you betraying the Son of man with a kiss?” Jesus could have destroyed him on the spot. He could have incinerated him on the spot. But He didn’t. He submits to the betrayal in order that Scripture would be fulfilled. You remember the psalmist said - didn’t he? - that His own familiar friend would lift up his heel against Him, and He would be betrayed in the house of His friends. Mark says no more about Judas. He kisses Him and he disappears off the pages of Mark’s history.

So what happened to Judas? Matthew tells us. Matthew chapter 27 tells us what happened. “Judas, who had betrayed Him,” verse 3, “saw that He had been condemned.” What does that mean? Judas hung around after he betrayed Him that night. He hung around for the trial that morning. The trial went on in the early hours of the morning. And at the end of the trial, Jesus was condemned to death, and Judas is still hanging on the fringes, watching this happen. And when he saw that He had been condemned, he felt remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priest and the elders.

He went back to wherever the Sanhedrin was located, and he gave them back the money. And he said, verse 4, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” And they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” What do we care? And he threw the pieces of silver into the temple sanctuary and departed and went out and hanged himself. Hanged himself? That’s remorse. That’s repentance not unto salvation. He went out and hanged himself.

He didn’t do that very well because Acts 1 says that ultimately his body fell, smashed on the rocks, and his intestines came out. The rope broke or the branch broke as he suspended himself over the edge, and he died a horrific, tragic death. And people don’t name their sons Judas - they don’t even name their dogs Judas. Greatest illustration of wasted opportunity, squandered privilege ever - ever, ever, ever.

So they arrest Jesus. Verse 46, “They laid hands on Him and seized Him.” John 18:12 says the Roman cohort and the commander and the officers of the Jews, the temple police, arrested Jesus and tied Him up.

That takes us to verse 47. We have seen the confronting crowd. We’ve seen the ugly, tragic betrayer, Judas. Now we are introduced to another person in the drama. We’ll call him the impulsive disciple - the impulsive disciple. Verse 47, “One of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his ear.” This is strange. Startling incident. Fortunately, we know who this is. If we weren’t told, we’d know anyway. We could guess that it would be Peter, couldn’t we? We could guess that it would be Peter, impulsive, impetuous Peter. And we are right.

According to John 18:10, it was Peter. And according to John 18:10, the guy’s name was Malchus and he was a servant of Caiaphas, the high priest. He wasn’t even a police officer nor was he a soldier. What is Peter doing? He seems so often out of touch with the plan, doesn’t he? Why is he doing this?

I’ll tell you why he’s doing this. He’s got something to prove. Back in verse 29 of chapter 14, Peter said to Jesus, “Even though all may fall away, yet I will not.” Peter was a confident guy. Wow, he believed in himself. You know, he’d fit in to the modern world (“If you believe in yourself, you can do anything.”) That was Peter. He believed in himself. He wouldn’t fail, he wouldn’t fall. You say, “Well, there’s some boldness there, some courage there.” Sure, there is some boldness and some courage, but something had just happened that led Peter to be that courageous, and I’ll tell you what it was.

John 18. John 18 gives the same account, same incident. But I want you to know what happened there. They all arrive, the entourage. Jesus walks up to the Roman cohort, the officers, the chief priests, the Pharisees, the massive crowd with their torches and weapons and lanterns, and Jesus says, “Whom do you seek?” Who you looking for? And they said, “Jesus, the Nazarene.” And He said to them, “Ego eimi” - “I am.” And he said the tetragrammaton, the name of God, the I am. And that’s all He had to do was say, “I am.”

Judas was standing with him, and when He said, “I am,” they all collapsed to the ground. The whole crowd went down flat. They couldn’t touch His power if He didn’t give them permission. That’s why He said, “No man takes my life from me; I lay it down myself.” He asked them again, once they scrambled back up, “Who do you seek?” And they said, “Jesus, the Nazarene.” He said, “I told you, I am.”

Now, if you had just seen Jesus say, “Ego eimi” in Greek, different in Aramaic, but if you’d - let’s take two words, one word in Aramaic, if you had just seen Jesus say one word and a thousand people collapsed to the ground, you’d feel okay, right? You’d feel like you could pull out your little knife and start through the crowd because at any moment, all Jesus would have to do is say another word, and they’d all go down again. It was an amazing, miraculous, triumphant, glorious powerful act of Jesus that infused Peter with strength. He needed to prove his loyalty again.

You say, “Where did he get a sword? What’s he doing with a sword?” Well, Luke tells us that Jesus said in Luke 22:36 to 38, “You know, I sent you out, you didn’t take a belt, you didn’t take a bag, you didn’t take extra shoes, you went out and you preached the gospel, and you were cared for and your needs were met, but in the future when I send you out, you better take a belt and you better take a bag, because there’s going to be persecution out there. And by the way, you better take a sword.”

He actually said to them, “If you don’t have a sword, you better get one. Not to kill people.” Christianity doesn’t advance like Islam, it doesn’t advance by killing people. And any supposed Christian effort to advance by killing anybody is false Christianity. But He said, “You’re going to need a sword because you’re going to be confronted, you’re going to be persecuted, you’re going to need to be able to defend yourself.” In which the Lord advocates self-defense.

So Peter said at the end of that little conversation in Luke 22 - some of the disciples responded, “We have two swords, we found two in the group.” Well, you can be sure Peter had one of them. Or for all we know, he’s Two-Sword Peter. He may have gotten both of them. But he pulls one out and he whacks off the ear of Malchus.

Now look, he didn’t have any surgical training, and I promise you he was better at throwing nets than he was at slitting throats because he missed the throat and hit the ear. He was not trying to cut off somebody’s ear. He was trying to slit the throat because that’s what you did with that. The guy ducked. And the Lord says, according to Luke 22, “Stop, no more of this - no more of this.” This is wrong-headed, impulsive, and dangerous because in Matthew 26, He says to Peter, “Peter, put your sword away for whoever lives by the sword dies by the sword.”

And our Lord, with that, advocates capital punishment in capital crime. That’s a reiteration of Genesis 9. “Who sheds man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.” “Peter, they’ll have a right to kill you if you kill somebody.” That’s our Lord advocating capital punishment. “Put your sword in the sheath.” John 18:11, he says, “Put your sword in the sheath. The cup which the Father has given me, shall I not drink it?” And later Jesus says, “My kingdom is not of this world; otherwise, my servants would fight. The kingdom does not advance by force, it advances one person at a time by faith in Christ.” Christianity makes no advance by the sword, none whatsoever.

People say, “Well, Christians are fighting in northern Ireland, and Christians are fighting in Bosnia and Croatia, and Christians - what about the Christian crusades?” None of that is Christian. It may have the word, it’s not Christian - kingdom advances one soul at a time by faith in Christ. Well, we learned from the New Testament record that the Lord reached over and gave him a new ear. The only healing in the New Testament of a fresh wound. Peter, that’s not how we do this.

So you see the crowd, the betrayer, and you see the impulsive disciple. And then in the next little scene, you see the glorious Christ, the triumphant Christ. “And Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as you would against a robber? Every day I was with you in the temple, teaching. You didn’t seize me. But” - as if to say here and now - “to fulfill the Scripture.

You know, He is surrounded by this crowd of really tragic figures, corrupt, apostate, religious leaders, mindless, blind, ignorant, pagan, idol-worshiping Roman soldiers, killers by trade, weak, cowardly, wrong-headed followers and a wretched, evil betrayer. He’s standing before the forces of hell and the forces of man. And he’s just in charge. He says, “Why now? You think you’re going to get resistance? Why all the soldiers? Why all the police? Why all the clubs? And where were you on Monday when I was at the temple? And where were you on Tuesday when I was there, and why didn’t you arrest me on Wednesday?”

And what He’s doing is unmasking the hypocrisy of this clandestine operation in which they’re taking Him at night because it was a violation of all their laws. His glorious majesty is displayed by the crumbling of the crowd when He says, “I am.” Displayed by the amazing calm, tranquility, as He asks reasonable questions. Am I some robber, some highwayman, some plunderer that you need all these soldiers and all these police? Have I ever tried to run from you? Wasn’t I there every day this week? Where were you?

But the reason you’re here right now in the middle of the night on a Friday is because today is the day Scripture is to be fulfilled. And in your witless, hostile anger, you are fulfilling the plan of God on schedule. That’s why you’re here. Scripture will be fulfilled. He will die at three o’clock in the afternoon, the same time the Passover lambs are being killed because He is the true Passover Lamb.

Now, a footnote that I mentioned last week, just briefly. Why would Satan try to keep Jesus from the cross, which he did earlier? Peter said, “No, Lord, you’re not going to die, you’re not going to die, you’re not going to die,” and Jesus said, “Get behind me, Satan.” It was Satan trying to keep Him from the cross. It was Satan who tempted Him and said, “I’ll give you the kingdoms of the world. You can take popularity. You can take your satisfaction. You don’t need the cross at His temptation.”

If Satan wants to keep Him from the cross, then why does Satan enter Judas and have Judas go to the people who want to arrest Him so that they can kill Him? Why does Satan prompt Judas to go to the Sanhedrin to have Jesus arrested and executed? I don’t know how Satan’s mind functions, but it’s pretty - simply reasonable to me that the one thing the leaders of Israel didn’t want to do was arrest Jesus during the Passover. They said that, they didn’t want to arrest Him, 14:2, “We don’t want to arrest Him during this festival, this Passover.”

Satan’s thought may well have been, “If I can get this arrest going during the Passover, even if they get Him in the middle of the night, this is going to show up in the daytime, and the people will rise up and stop this crucifixion. And if the people don’t stop it,” Satan’s thought must have been, “I’m going to make it so unbearable for Jesus with the spitting and the mockery and the crowning and the punches in the face and the beatings and the scourging and the whole thing, I’m going to make it so bad for Him that He’s going to finally say, ‘Stop, that’s enough, I’m not going to die.’”

Do you remember in chapter 26, verses 51 to 54, He said to Peter when Peter pulled out the sword, He said, “Look, Peter, if I wanted, I could call twelve legions of angels right now.” You know how many that is? Seventy-two thousand. Can you imagine what kind of defense 72 thousand angels would be when in the Old Testament one angel killed 185 thousand Assyrians? Seventy-two thousand angels could do some serious damage. “Put your sword away.”

I think Satan must have thought, “If the crowd doesn’t stop it, Jesus will say, ‘I’ve had enough - I’ve had enough.’” You all saw The Passion of the Christ, you saw what He - and at some point He’s going to say, “That’s it, I’m done, I’m not going any further. I don’t deserve this” and call the angels. No, Satan didn’t want to get Him to the cross, he wanted to make it so bad that Jesus Himself would stop it. But He never did because He was obedient to the Father for your sake, my sake. There He stands in such majesty. “This is to fulfill Scripture.”

So you see the crowd, it’s an ugly crowd - the betrayer, even uglier. The impulsive Peter, disappointing, weak, cowardly in the end because verse 50 says - and here we come to the final point, the cowardly apostles, “They all left Him and fled.” All of them, including Peter. They all left. That’s what He said they would do back in verse 27. He told them, “You will all fall away” - “You will all fall away.” And instead of praying against that temptation, they went to sleep during prayer meeting.

They were ill-equipped, weak, afraid, unfaithful, they fled. Zechariah 13:7 said that would happen, “Strike the Shepherd, the sheep will be scattered.” And that prophecy was fulfilled. Unprepared, impatient, carnal, inconsistent, weak, they flee for their lives.

And then there’s a closing picture of one person’s cowardice. Listen to this. “A young man was following Him, wearing nothing but a linen sheet over his naked body.” He would have had his undergarments on, which they always wore, but nothing other than a sheet wrapped around that. They seized him. “He pulled free of the linen sheet and escaped naked.” This is the only place that appears. Doesn’t appear in Matthew, Luke, or John.

People say to me, “Who is that young man?” I have absolutely no idea who that young man is. How would I know? I’m looking at the same Bible you’re looking at. I don’t see a name. “And what is the linen sheet?” I have no idea, but I do know that when people went to sleep at night, they put a linen sheet on. And he wrapped himself in a linen sheet, and they tried to seize him, and he pulled free from the linen sheet and ran away. I love that about the Bible - it just says it because it happened.

If a committee wanted to organize this, they would say, “Take that thing out because it doesn’t add anything to the story. What’s the point? Who’s the guy and why did he do it and what’s the sheet?” I’ll tell you what happened. I mean this we know. Somebody in the middle of the night heard a commotion, some guy, and thought, “What is going on?” and jumped out of his bed and just wrapped himself with a sheet and said, “I’m going to go out there and find out what’s going on.” And as he was poking around on the Mount of Olives, maybe he worked there, you know? Up on the - maybe he was in a vineyard up there.

And he’s poking around out there and all of a sudden somebody thinks he’s a threat that belongs to the crowd that goes around with Jesus, and they grab him, and he just runs. And the guy’s left holding the sheet. And that, my dear friends, is a true interpretation of this passage. Anything more than that is pure speculation. Some people say, “No, no, that’s Mark - that’s Mark.” It is? “Yeah, because it’s a first-person account. Who would know that but the guy who was doing it? Who would know that?” “Maybe it’s Mark. Maybe he just doesn’t want to call himself that because he’s embarrassed that he was running around without his clothes on in the middle of the night.”

I don’t know, maybe it was Mark. Maybe the reason it’s here is because it was Mark and maybe somebody even suggested that before Judas went to the garden, he checked Mark’s house because Mark’s mother was one of the early believers and maybe checked to see if Jesus went there instead of to the Mount of Olives, and when Mark found out they were looking for Jesus, he threw his sheet on and jumped out the window because he was very young, his mother wouldn’t let him go out in the middle of the night, and followed along and - well. Now we’re creating some fiction here instead of what it says.

What’s the point? The point is Jesus is alone. Everybody’s gone. The apostles are gone and even a sort of a - I don’t know, a normal follower of Jesus, just a guy who saw what was going on and the more he saw, the more he knew, and he was a follower. He was following Him. Get closer and closer and closer and he’s gone, too. It’s just to show that there’s no one left - no one left.

And so alone, verse 53 says, they led Him away in the darkness of night to a kangaroo court to put Him through two trials with three parts each, six separate tribunals. Trumped up charges, bribed witnesses, corrupt judges, proverbial kangaroo court, get Him on the cross in the morning, He’s dead in the afternoon.

In the end, nothing is to be said except that Jesus triumphantly, knowingly goes to the cross, fulfilling prophecy. There were prophecies about Judas, the betrayer, there were prophecies about the scattering of the disciples. There were prophecies about Him as the Passover Lamb that had to be fulfilled on Friday. There were prophecies about the cross, that He would be lifted up. There were prophecies about Him being pierced by the nails and the sword. It is all what Scripture says. Isaiah 53, “He is led as a sheep to slaughter.” But He goes willingly. He does it out of love for His Father and love for you because it’s your sins that He carried there.

Father, what an experience for us, to be there on the Mount of Olives that day through the eyes of Mark and the other writers of the gospel account and to experience the betrayal and arrest of Jesus, at least in a small way. Just adding to the gratitude which we have for His willingness to give His life, who was perfectly holy, sinless, and bearing this kind of scorn when He had only been worshiped forever by angels and adored and honored, to be kissed by a betrayer, to be arrested by sinners and to be judged, as it were, by you on the cross, to be punished for our sins.

The horrors of this are beyond comprehension, and yet His majesty and magnificence shines through. Oh, what a Savior is ours. And we praise you, O God, for giving Him to us and giving us to Him. In His great name we pray. Amen.

[howlsmovinglibrary]

The Last Namsara by Kristen Ciccarelli

*I received an ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest review*

To be honest, I didn’t really expect much from The Last Namsara, beyond the fact that the artwork on the stall at YALC was incredibly beautiful, and it had DRAGONS in.

So when what I ended up with was one of my favourite books of 2017, it was a pleasant surprise, to say the least.

The Last Namsara is a wonderfully lyrical book, half epic fantasy, and half fanciful fairy tale – and I mean this literally, as the book alternates between the main character’s narrative, and the retelling of the Old Stories, the myths of her kingdom. It follows Asha, a dragon slaying princess, whose past mistakes have earned her the title Iskari, after the Goddess who is associated with death and destruction. The novel starts out as her redemption story, as she plans to atone for her crimes and escape her arranged marriage by bringing her father the head of the First Dragon. But as the corruption of Firgaard is slowly revealed it becomes about Asha redeeming not just herself, but her entire country.

In a slightly different format, I’m going to recount what I loved about this book, but then go into an issue with the novel which I think needs to be disclaimed before people decided to read it. I want to be as honest and representative of it as possible.

What I loved about it:

Asha. Asha is amazingly well rounded female character, by which I mean ‘my smol angry baby’. She’s a fighter, which means she could easily fall into ‘strong female character’ territory, but while it’s fun to watch her punch things (in particular her dick of a fiancée), the story goes into much more detail than that. She's ruthless, irate, and guilt ridden, and watching the book explore the conflict between the hard, cold mask Asha tries to uphold and her own doubts, sadness, and pain, was incredibly interesting. I loved watching the way she developed over the course of the novel, having to unlearn a lot of assumptions she has made about her life and her country, and to in its place learn to place her trust in other people.

The mythology. From the initial story about Namsara and Iskari, I was hooked into the world. The power of stories and the place it holds within Firgaard is such an interesting one – from the way they got told and then retold in a new light, to the destabilising power they wield, to the fact that can be used to lure dragons, as if they hold a literal magic. I loved how enchanting the stories themselves actually were, painting a bigger, sinister picture in each localised telling, and how this was reflected in their role in the story. (I’m now going to go read aloud in a wood somewhere and see if I call a dragon).

The writing. This book is, to me, reminiscent of Uprooted, in that it has a lovely descriptive style that seems very otherworldly and almost like a folk tale. There is a lot of repetition, from the text level, to motifs that reoccur throughout, and the imagery is amazing, both deceptively simple and slightly hypnotic.

The dragon came, slithering out of the red-gold silt like the treacherous thing it was. Sand cascaded down its body, shimmering like water...while it's slitted gaze fixed on the girl who summoned it. The girl who'd tricked it with stories.

...Hell, there was very little I didn’t love about this book. The plot is a gift that just keeps on giving, going far beyond the point where I expected it to conclude, and filled with interesting concepts, from the toxicity of dragon burns to sacred flames to epic histories of heroism. The writing was arresting, and I found myself barely breathing during certain scenes. And I also really enjoyed the love story, which I felt was written beautiful, but this is now what I need to focus on – I will try to give minimal spoilers, but I think it’s something that needs to be discussed before you decide whether to read the book.

Disclaimer: The Last Namsara features a romance between a slave (Skral) and a member of the master class.

Normally, this is a big NO for me, and I recognise that this comes weighed down with a lot of problematic literary and historical baggage, particularly when written by a non-POC author. I did not know when I started reading that this would be a feature of the book, which is why I wanted to people to know before they decide whether to read it or not.

What follows is spoilers, but may help you make a decision:

Torwin and Asha are never romantically involved while Torwin is a slave. In fact, bar their first interaction, they only ever interact once Torwin has escaped slavery and is freed.

Torwin’s master is Asha’s betrothed, and he abuses both of them. I’m not going to pretend that one type of abuse undoes another, but it at least means they start out as allies, both subject to systematic oppression, and places them on a more equal footing.

Asha’s interactions with slavery are forcibly deconstructed and changed. As a member of the ruling class, and in fact one of its higher members, Asha has a lot of privilege that she is forced to unlearn. Now, no book should get a cookie for helping its protagonist learn not to be racist, but the book is very interesting in its use of point of view. From the first few chapters, it becomes clear that Asha’s country is corrupt and oppressive, even if Asha can’t see it. The fact that her weapons can only be used ‘to right wrongs’, that killing dragons is a wrong and freeing Torwin is a right according to the blades objective morality, signals from the get go that, even if Asha’s narrative focalisation does not condemn right away, the world and the book in no way sanctions what happens in Firgaard, including slavery.

In this vein, Torwin repeatedly calls out Asha’s racism and privilege. He calls out that she refuses to call him by his name. He calls out her naivety in believing that slavery can be miraculously stopped overnight. He calls her out for her deliberate distancing and dehumanisation in the first few chapters. While he may fall in love with Asha, at no point does he let her position of power go unnoticed by either party, and he deliberately deconstructs her perspective and fights her at every turn.

Extreme spoiler.

Torwin has a lot of agency in the story, moreso than Asha does, initially. He is the leader of a slave rebellion, and is instrumental in a revolution of which Asha is entirely ignorant of until it happens. Whereas Asha is quite passive in the first half of the book due to her own ignorance, Torwin actively influences her and people around her to have more of a prominent role in instigating change.

Extreme extreme spoiler.

Asha decides later in the book that all the slaves need to be freed, in order to appease the objective morality that I mention above – basically to get dragons back on their side. Obviously, this is a white saviour moment (even if the cast don’t necessarily seem to white). This is when I started to take issue with the book, and begin to feel uncomfortable. However, what I find interesting is that barely a chapter later, Torwin calls her out on it. He calls her out on using it as a tool without truly understanding the experience of slaves, and for being naïve in thinking it will fix all the Skral’s problems overnight. I like that he basically lampshades her white saviour moment, and identifies as such – and I think it shows that, while the author is exploring problematic content, they are at least trying to do it sensitively (whether they succeed or not is a judgement I will leave for own voices reviewers).

Extreme extreme extreme spoiler.

Torwin gets ‘given’ to Asha as a soulmate in the final chapter of the book, in line with the mythological workings of the world. Asha flat out refuses to accept, saying she doesn’t want that kind of power over him, that it’s unfair to do it without his consent, and that the god in question is just placing Torwin into a new form of slavery just after he has escaped another form. This shows a lot of self-awareness, both on the behalf of the character, and on the author behind her. Again, no cookie for unlearning racism, but at least by this point it makes clear that both characters will only enter a relationship as consenting equals, which is an important point to make when attempting to write a slave/master romance.

Obviously, as a white reviewer, I cannot excuse this romance and say ‘it’s fine’. I think it certainly has problematic elements that mean I’m very conscious of giving this book a positive review, and I think the final judgement should be reserved for own voices reviewers. The white saviour moment was the key action that made me extremely uncomfortable, and I’m glad that it was throughly deconstructed, and was done so in Torwin’s voice.

A large proportion of this book is amazing. I love the world and its mythology, and the dual perspective in which it is written, where you see the world as it objectively is, then as it is seen when filtered through Asha’s narrowed and privileged perspective. I like that these two perspectives are both there, and both clearly different. I also have to be honest and say that I really enjoyed it, and I think lots of people will enjoy it too. 

While some problematic tropes regarding race and slavery are used, I don’t personally think they go unquestioned or without severe interrogation. But obviously, I'm not the authoritative voice on that. I think, given the trajectory of the latter half of the book, more will be done to interrogate these ideas further in the second book, and that it can be enjoyed with both the reader and author being aware that those tropes are present.

Overall Rating: 4.5/5

[smartalker]

Magpie Bridge [2/10 - Orihime]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Ryder was different, but in a way that was hard to explain. Rather than changing, she had become more of herself. More confident, more focused. If life could be seen as a series of blows and each strike was another opportunity to shape a person, she had sharpened. Like a blade beneath the blacksmith’s hammer, she had solidified, shook off excesses—rather than bending.

Reyes leaned out over the veranda’s railing. He was at a local favorite, a new restaurant that specialized in breading and frying the local vegetation. The establishment’s peak hours hung between midnight and dawn, the darkest time. Kadara’s vegetation naturally contained weak toxin that, when warmed correctly, could act as a psychedelic for both humans, Angara, and the Asari.

“Waiting for someone?”

Distracted, Reyes reached for his battered leaves. The waitress who’d spoken to him raised her eyebrows. He’d been squatting for nearly half an hour, and the place was overflowing. “You could say that,” Reyes conceded. “But I think it’s going to be a while.”

Annoyed, the waitress eyed him for another moment, then left. He’d have to buy a round for the house soon.

Another important change: Ryder had more freckles.

Reyes considered the aesthetics of freckles as he checked his omni-tool. Nothing. Quiet.

The street below was very dark.

“Not much of a view,” said a soft, low voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. A petite Asari in clean, new-looking space armor was lounging at a nearby table. She had a small, smug smile, and very dark lipstick. Once she knew he’d seen her, the Asari stood, and picked her way towards him. She was very slight, almost underdeveloped. No scars. Young? Hard to tell. “So who is this person you’re waiting for?” she asked. “A woman?”

“Of course,” Reyes smiled easily. “She takes her time. But I am very good at waiting.”

She regarded him for a moment, her black eyes curving with laughter. “Forgive me. A human is never patient.”

She attacked a half-second later than he’d predicted, with monstrous, raw biotics. Her power was wild, unrefined. It blew out the balcony’s iron railing and sent the now mangled metalwork not only across the street, but through the neighboring building’s wall. If he’d been slower, he’d have been dead. There were screams as those who had avoided the balcony’s blast rushed back into the restaurant—and still more commotion from the street below. Reyes scrambled to his feet, smiling at his attacker. “I thought someone was watching me.”

The Asari was frozen, her eyes livid. She writhed ineffectively at the biotic chokehold his bodyguards had slapped upon her. The veins in her hands bulged, and receded again into her skin. She stared at him, furious, still trying to smile. “You are more important than I had realized.”

“Perhaps.”

“You met with the Pathfinder,” the Asari snapped, her voice clear, almost loud. Was she wearing a wire? Or perhaps she had an accomplice? Reyes kept his features even, careful. He’d been with Ryder only hours before. His opponents were quick. The Asari continued speaking, with that same aggressive, almost confident tone. “Has the Charlatan allied himself with the Nexus? Are they finally ready to pay attention to the problem they can’t contain?”

“I thought the Charlatan was a woman,” Reyes said mildly. His assassin sneered.

“The Angara is nothing. Don’t take us for fools. Tell the Charlatan he can wear as many faces as he wants. We will rip them away, one by one, until there is nowhere left to hide.”

“Tell her yourself!” Reyes said brightly. Her jaw locked, struggling. Reyes watched apathetically. “I always wondered, why do would someone with biotics bother with poison? Surely you can just blow yourself up. Can’t you?”

The Asari’s jaw, frozen to keep her from biting down, strained to answer him, or to end things. You could never be too careful. He kept watching her as the mental chokehold’s pressure increased, until finally, she wavered, her eyelids fluttering. Her body fell pitifully to the ground, and as Reyes searched her, he realized that her slightness was, in fact, to be expected. She was barely more than a child.

She was carrying Angaran daggers, Initiative boosters, and her armor was worth more than the average mercenary could afford, sporting some kind of stylish shield tech he hadn’t seen before. Scans showed that several of her teeth were filled with poison, but she would need to crush her molars to access it. It would be very painful.

Reyes glanced up as his two shadows slid forward, awaiting his orders. He’d chosen the twins—a pair of ancient human biotics, the sort of old women whose discretion could be matched only by their uncaring savagery. Reyes had never liked using the Asari commandos. Too flashy. “Take her back to Keema. Whoever’s sponsoring her already knows she’s been captured, we might as well make sure the Initiative knows it too. When she wakes up, see what you can get out of her.”

“If she refuses to cooperate? We kill her?” one of the old women asked.

Child murderers. Leaving little bodies in the streets. Reyes sighed. Annoying, when the child had lived longer than him. “We’ll give her to the Pathfinder. The Nexus can take her into custody.”

The old women exchanged glances. Telepathy? He would have believed it. Respectfully, one woman dipped her head, considering the young Asari. “There is a chance she may be able to divulge something unsavory to the Nexus…” she trailed off, her silence fat with meaning.

Torturer. Murderer. Sadist. Ryder’s face, when she’d seen what he did to Avitus as punishment for failing to renounce Sloane. Her face, when she’d seen him as the Charlatan, known that even the title he’d chosen for himself marked him as a liar. Her face, aging and recoiling before his eyes, her obvious and instinctive horror. The moment he had realized that there was a part of him she would never, ever be able to see without flinching.

Absently, Reyes dusted the rubble off his thighs, and turned away. “Get what you can from her. Keep her alive. Make sure she’ll never be able to tell anyone, anything. Especially not the Pathfinder.”

Decision: he liked her new freckles.

As Ryder’s party stripped out of their armor and boarded the Tempest, several heads popped around the corridor’s corners to watch. “Nice to see you’re back,” was Lexi’s greeting. It seemed innocent enough. Ryder was already afraid.

“We just stopped for a drink on the way back,” Ryder explained, her voice oddly high-pitched. She glanced hopefully at Drack and Cora, neither of whom seemed interested in covering for her.

Lexi’s arms were crossed, her spine rigid. Very slowly, and with considerably deliberation, her weight shifted to one hip. “Of course,” the doctor acknowledged. “A drink.”

Or several. Ryder grumbled, then realized that Drack had apparently mastered the art of evaporation. Her favorite Krogan was nowhere to be seen.

Lexi had privately decided that she didn’t have the energy to badger someone who regarded their internal organs as currency, and she now settled into easier targets with a sense of relative comfort. “I’m not sure where to start. Wait, yes, I do. Cora?”

Cora’s mouth actually dropped a little. She looked indignantly at Ryder. “Me? Why am I being singled out?”

“Did you even wear sunscreen?” Lexi demanded.

“Yes.” Cora said, immediately and definitively and shifty as hell.

Scans reveal she is lying, SAM pitched in.

“Sunscreen is important,” Ryder pitched in. “Very anti-cancer, that stuff. Yep.” She slunk rapidly towards the nearest escape route, and was more than a little perturbed when Lexi’s hand snagged her jacket sleeve, especially since there should have been several meters separating them. Ryder smiled nervously. “You’re pretty speedy for a Doctor.”

“Aloe vera,” Lexi barked at Cora, who was actually jogging down the hall. Casually. Casual jogging. Lexi returned her glare to Ryder. “And you.”

The Pathfinder wore sunscreen, SAM reported. Nice to know someone was on her side.

“I thought we were arresting your boyfriend,” Lexi growled. “I don’t see a detainee. SAM’s monitors show your oxytocin excretion levels all over the place!”

“I don’t think the word excretion should be allowed on this ship?” Ryder said, to the ceiling. “I also would like to point out that SAM is a traitor and this is totally an invasion of privacy? Just, you know. For the captain’s log.” Lexi was still holding/pinning her by the arm. Which was buzzing. Her arm was buzzing? For one wild moment Ryder wondered if her weird headaches had migrated, but no, it was just her omni-tool. Someone was calling.

“Ryder, you might be able to lie to me, but your body can’t. And I am telling you, as your doctor, you cannot rationally or fairly involve yourself in this mission.” Lexi insisted. Ryder groaned. Why was Lexi so smart and caring? Why couldn’t she be a practitioner of the Band-Aid cure-all methodology? Twisting the knife still deeper, Lexi’s tone softened (her arresting grip did not). “Personally, Ryder, I don’t want to see you or anyone else be hurt. I kept quiet before now because, to be blunt, I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I also was unable to argue that someone else would be better suited to the job. But I cannot continue to sanction your behavior without, at the very least, regular psychological evaluations.”

Trapped like a rat. The psych evals weren’t bad, truthfully. Lexi was a big believer in comfort as a facilitator of intimacy, meaning she had a very nice couch.

The Pathfinder is considering stabbing a fork through her hand to avoid discussing her feelings, SAM reported. Lexi’s attention diverted.

“Left or right?”

Non-dominant.

“At least you’ve still kept some pragmatism,” Lexi acknowledged. She let go of Ryder’s arm. “Fine. Collect yourself first. But then, we talk.”

Ryder nodded furiously, almost disbelieving her good luck as Lexi turned to go. For good measure, and because she was an excellent doctor, Lexi still remembered to nag. “And for the love of the Goddess, hydrate yourself.”

“Yes. Hydration and reflection. Doing that,” Ryder noted, already checking her omni-tool. Reyes? Reyes.

Meet me tomorrow morning? Café called Tiramisu.

Hell yeah.

Keema flinched the moment she saw him. Reyes preferred to work from the shadows when he could—but there were some things that had to be done in person. And there’d been a time in his past when he’d been good—very good—at climbing in through people’s windows. Even the locked ones. Even the ones that should have been impossible to open, like the window to Keema’s private quarters. “My god,” Keema breathed. She pressed a hand to her breast, likely more for dramatic effect than shock. “There’s no need to glare.” She recovered herself, obviously stalling for time as she waltzed to her private collection of liqueurs. “Drink?”

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Reyes snarled. He’d meant to keep things cool. Plans changed.

Keema didn’t quite look at him. “I disagreed.”

Reyes rolled to his feet. A weird, unknown energy vibrated through his limbs. Keema poured, offered. He shook his head. “I don’t want her involved.”

“She is involved.” Keema snapped, and tossed down her shot. She smacked her lips angrily. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of yourself. The Pathfinder is more than capable of handling herself. She’ll probably find the fake Charlatan before you can.”

Reyes ground his teeth. “Not everyone will be able to tell the difference between the good and the bad, when this fake is found.”

“So that’s it?” Keema’s face began to glow. “I don’t understand you at all.” She poured again, almost forcing the next drink on him. “You worry what she’ll think of you.”

“I worry about losing our alliance—”

“She wouldn’t dare. And you know it. You’re a nasty piece of work that likes pretending to be just rough around the edges. And she’ll find out. And she’ll hate you,” Keema laughed. “You know, I sometimes wonder. What do you tell her about yourself?”

Extremely little. Reyes pulled himself back, returned to the dark window he’d cut his way through. The cold air helped, moderately. He’d come too far to lose control like this. “I should have listened to you,” he conceded, relieved to hear his tone could pass for polite. “Your concerns are real ones.”

“If I’d known it only took a human woman to make you back down, I’d have found you one sooner,” Keema snipped. Reyes drank before answering. Whatever she’d given him was hot, and painful, and nasty.

He turned back to Keema, offering a pleasant smile. “Now who’s being petty?”

“I beg your pardon,” Keema replied.

Cold air. He could be cold. “Your decision to ask for the Pathfinder’s help was the right one. But you still made it without me. I can’t have you making those calls on your own.”

At last, Keema nodded. “I know.”

“We were both wrong. Let’s agree to put this behind us.” He thought about leaping back out the window. It seemed a little dramatic. Reyes headed for the door, adding as he left, “Do this again, and you’re done.”

Reyes was late.

Ryder slouched back against her chair, ignoring SAM’s reminder that doing so would atrophy her muscles. Reyes was late. Of course. No biggie. Except that she was the Pathfinder and how dare he keep the Pathfinder waiting. Just saying.

Kadara was sleepy in the morning. It felt cleaner. Less crowded, that was for sure, but she also could have been feeling lonely thanks to her decision to shake her team. ‘Shake her team’ meaning ‘sneak out of the Tempest,’ a thing that was generally frowned upon and, definitely, bad. Very bad. Bad Pathfinder.

Ryder rubbed her eyes, sulking. She deserved to sulk. She was good at her job and responsible and could shoot a bird out of the sky at 500 meters. Did Kadara have birds? Irrelevant. Point was: people needed to get off her back because she had this.

Suddenly, darkness. A hand, hot and very dry covering her eyes. Close enough for her eyelashes to graze. She should have been afraid. She shouldn’t have relaxed. It was a very big and very stupid problem that she relaxed. “You should take off your armor sometimes,” Reyes mused. “It’s just me.”

Ryder twisted around, pretending to glare. “Do you have some sort of problem with approaching so people can see you?”

“No, just you.”

“Why just me?”

He took his time strolling around the table, claiming his seat opposite her. Even as he pretended to pout, his face was alive with laughter, almost mocking. “You’re so good at running away from me. I don’t want to play nice anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” Ryder protested, with new guilt. Did he think she was running away? She wasn’t running away. She was doing Pathfinder things.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, almost gently. “Don’t look so upset.”

Ryder blushed, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t think that. He probably didn’t think of her at all. She tried for a breezy laugh. “Upset! I’m not upset. Anyway. You’re supposed to be telling me about the bad guys.”

“What’s your rush?”

“Uh,” Ryder clamped her mouth shut. She was truthfully not even sure where to begin. Her sense of duty? Professionalism? Her crew’s constant vigilance and clear dissatisfaction with the mission at hand? “Nothing. No rush.”

“Such a bad liar. I almost want to teach you.”

“Why don’t you?”

He just looked at her. Defiant, Ryder stared back. He looked tired. A little older than she remembered. What was he doing that made so worn out? Did he ever get hurt—would he even tell her if he was? Would he tell her anything?

Reyes smirked, and she shook herself free of her thoughts. “Have you eaten?”

“Is it safe?”

“Don’t be that way.” Reyes leaned back, settling himself more comfortably into his chair. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you.”

“About me? What about me?” Ryder squinted at him, suspicious.

“This time apart, has it changed things? Between us? You seem more distant.”

“Distant!” Ryder squeaked, now indignant. “We kissed!”

“No. I kissed you.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“I like it better the other way.”

“You would.” Ryder snorted, then caught herself. She was not going to spend the morning flirting. She had definitely promised herself that. Trying for neutral ground, she gestured at their surroundings. “Why this place? Come here often?”

He rocked forward, pulling his chest over the small table between them. There was a new scar on his forearm, almost startlingly white against his skin. Ryder promised herself not to ask. Watching his shoulders hunch, the way he filled the space in front of her, she struggled to accept his physicality. It was ironic, considering how much time she spent ignoring Liam as he paraded his abs across the Tempest. “It might surprise you to know that it isn’t easy to get good coffee on this space rock,” Reyes intimated. He did his usual sign language with a passing waitress, which Ryder watched jealously.

“Let me guess—you drink it black?”

“Are you out of your mind? Three spoons of sugar. I like them sweet.” He winked.

Ryder stared.

Reyes giggled. “Okay. Sorry.”

“My father would have punched you.” Their coffee arrived. Ryder drank it straight, with a poker face that was almost murderous.

“You old soldier,” Reyes continued to snicker. He leaned back, now trilling an R at her. She kicked him under the table.

“Stop giggling! And! This coffee is terrible!”

“Like I said, you’d be surprised how hard it is to get good coffee on this space rock—”

She kicked him again. “Did you seriously just call me here to drink bad coffee with me?”

“I dream of the day,” Reyes returned. He was coming down from whatever giddiness he’d felt before now, and she felt sorry for it. Ryder glanced down. Her stomach was cramping. She should have eaten something.

The moment stretched and dropped between them. Their silence shrank and made space for the noise of the world around them. Ryder let herself relax, feeling oddly at peace. Beneath the morning sun, saying nothing with a dangerous man, she drank her bad coffee and watched him wake up.

Reyes finished his drink and offered his hand to her, “Come with me?”

She thought about refusing. Or even just asking questions. Instead, she followed. She followed him down side streets, through dizzying crowds of people, into long, dark hallways. Past empty apartments and arguing peddlers. Two fire-eaters were about to brawl for a street corner, their eyes and their flames both flashing. She followed him until she realized that she was lost—so lost that it would be hard to find her way back out, even with SAM. There had been too many things to see, so much to take in. “Will you be escorting me back out of here?” she asked him, half joking. He had never let go of her hand.

Reyes stopped. “I’ll consider it. What do you think of this?”

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. It seemed like just another of Kadara’s alleys—small, foul-smelling. There was one thing, though—it was empty. An empty path in a city swollen with people.

The street is freshly washed, SAM noted. Ryder’s fingers clenched.

“Did someone die here?” she asked. Reyes glanced at her. He had been looking at the wall. Surprised, Ryder followed his gaze.

“Yes. There was a child here,” he agreed. There was something about the wall. She could sense it. Cautiously, Ryder reached to brush the rough-cut stone with her fingers. Someone had painted this building green—but not recently. At least a year ago. She was just about to ask SAM to run a scan for a deeper analysis, when she saw it.

“It’s a face?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She reached out to touch the left eye’s image. SAM was scanning. Rather than painting or drawing the face, someone had gone into the stone itself, and cut out a rough approximation of human features. The overall effect suggested that someone had just begun to emerge through the wall, face-first. “Well, that’s creepy.”

“Isn’t it?” Reyes asked. “It took me a while to notice too. They usually use the victim’s blood to paint something ridiculous on the walls, which covers up the face. It’s only after things are washed away that you see it.”

“The others were like this too?”

Reyes sighed. “There are others. Not all. The problem is there are too many copycats. Someone’s seen the paintings but not what hides beneath them, is my guess.”

She had to tell her crew. “You have pictures of the others, right? Can you send them to me?”

“Done,” Reyes agreed. He waited for her to finish scanning, then reached her wrist. “I’ll take you back.”

She looked around once more, then followed him obediently. He glanced back at her, grinning. “Some date.”

“We have our own style.”

He laughed. “I like that.”

He’d trusted her, letting her in. She felt good. “Is that the only thing you like?”

“It’s a start,” Reyes murmured. He’d paused to touch a passing door knob—and he’d twisted—something? But with the barest push she heard a lock snap and in the next second Reyes tugged her wrist, and she was in, off the street and in his arms, while whirls of lazy dust lit the air with gold around them.

Her heart was racing. “You came prepared.”

“I am always prepared,” he pulled her more tightly against him. “Are you impressed?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” he said, and just barely in time. Ryder lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. She didn’t want to hurry. As she kissed him she peeked one eye open. He kissed her with his eyes closed. Somehow, this thrilled her. She broke away to kiss his eyelids, and beneath her mouth, they trembled.

“Silly,” he whispered.

She wanted him. She had to go back to the ship. She wanted him.

He knew it.

She pushed herself away, unsuccessfully.

“Where are you going?” Reyes asked, his mouth grazing the edge of her ear—a feeling between ticklish, and an itch. She wasn’t going to look at him. She wasn’t going to look. She looked.

“This isn’t going to work,” she hissed through tight, determined teeth. “I can’t do this right now. I snuck out while everyone was sleeping to be here, I—I said I wouldn’t do this.”

“Okay.” Reyes didn’t let go. “But do it anyway.” He pushed her hair back, rough hands on her neck, holding the base of her skull just a little too firmly. He kissed, lovingly, the extent of her throat. He bit, hard enough to make her gasp.

“Distracting me is definitely not going to work—”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” He was pulling on her armor. No, he was barely touching it. Like a lock pick, her gear fell around her, like nothing had been standing in his way to begin with. Her shield plate, nearly banging her foot as it dropped. She didn’t even know that her arms could feel naked, but they did—they did. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about stopping him, not when it was so easy—why was it always so easy for him?

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Ryder protested, barely hearing herself. He had knelt, and was unthreading the straps and snaps around her legs. Her thighs, now, bared to the air. Unconsciously, she reached to touch his hair, only just grazing the side of his head with her fingertips. He looked up at her, his face now catching the sunlight, his eyes shining. He seemed, suddenly, vulnerable.

“But don’t you want to?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he asked to tease her, or because—maybe—she was actually something he actually wanted.

“Yes,” she admitted, horrified when her voice cracked. He gazed up at her, unreadable. For too long, he said nothing. For too long, she fell without a safety net.

It was too much. Her face burning, Ryder scrambled to grab her armor, throwing it back on. “I should go,” she muttered. He watched her. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey,” Reyes said. Ryder paid attention to her breast plate, to sealing things as fast as possible. “Hey,” he said again.

“What?”

He handed her a missing glove. “Can I try again?”

She hated herself for falling for him. Of all people. He probably didn’t even like her that much. When he smiled at her, when she saw his uncertainty—she believed that he did. Trying to hold on to her anger, Ryder groused, “You’re not a good man.” She pulled on her glove. He pulled her to her feet. His uncertainty was gone, or hidden, or had never been there in the first place. She turned before he could kiss her goodbye.

“Would you believe me if I said that I try to be?” he asked her back.

Ryder didn’t answer.

She was going back to the ship. She really, really was. As soon as she figured out the right way to sneak onto a secured military vessel, she was in there.

Ryder huddled behind a few of the docking bay’s larger shipping containers, sweating. She was so busted. She’d been brave enough to check the messages on her omni-tool earlier. Lexi was pissed. So was Cora. So was Kallo. She hadn’t even opened the messages fully—both because she was sure the read receipts would damn her further, and because the subject lines alone were terrifying.

“It’s the truant,” Vetra said.

Ryder choked, and whirled. Definitely Vetra. Ryder couldn’t tell if the Turian was angry, or amused. Or both? Probably both. Also: everyone and their mothers were sneaking up on her these days. Everyone. This was why she didn’t do things without a sniper. “Oh, hey there Vetra,” Ryder squeaked. “I was just thinking, it’s funny, because I had SAM install all these ‘predictive combat matrices’ yesterday and then everyone started getting the jump on me.”

Vetra crossed her arms. “Ha.”

“So. I was just—”

“I honestly hope you at least got laid,” Vetra interrupted. “Because Lexi has requested a full psych eval.”

“No,” Ryder whispered. She stared hopefully up at the Turian. “You’re teasing me.”

“You are arguably a deserter.” Vetra shrugged. “No biggie.”

Ryder wilted. Vetra snorted, “Jeez Ryder, take a joke. It’s fine if you’re fine. But don’t pull that shit again. You want someone to discreetly supervise your trysts, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Ugh,” Ryder rubbed her forehead again. Seriously, ow. “You’re right. I’ll apologize. I just wanted—I thought—I don’t know.”

“You thought you had a connection.” Vetra said simply. Ryder tried not to die.

“I guess you could say that.”

“You thought that by confronting him solo, you’d somehow be able to…reach an understanding? Or something to that effect.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Ryder buried her face in her hands. “Can you maybe not tell everyone about this?”

Vetra sniggered. “Probably. For a price.”

She could only lurk behind shipping crates for so long. Sheepishly, Ryder straightened, and tried to act like she had always been striding confidently back to her ship. “It’s not like I was completely playing hooky, you know. I got some good data. I’ll have SAM upload it.”

“Good data? From Reyes?”

Ryder lifted her chin proudly. “He showed me some stuff.”

Vetra sighed, and fell in line behind Ryder as they approached the lifts back to the Tempest. “So did you know that the Collective took an assassin into custody last night? Some Asari kid with really nice armor? Ringing any bells?”

Ryder froze. “What?” she whispered.

“He didn’t tell you, huh?” Vetra crossed her arms. “Thought so.”

“It might not be what you’re thinking,” Ryder defended. She’d never felt this way before. This cold, sinking feeling. It wasn’t disappointment or anger, but something more physical—something like fear. And what was she saying, anyway? Like Reyes tickled people until they told him what he wanted to know? Come on.

“Cute,” Vetra snorted. “Almost like you’ve never seen him torture anyone before.”

“We don’t know that,” Ryder snapped. She winced. She hadn’t meant to sound angry. Vetra’s face shifted, expression cool. If Turians had eyebrows.

“Listen Ryder, I don’t have anything against the guy. It’s a rough world. A part of me thinks he’s doing what he’s gotta do, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see what happens when you get sucked into it. Just remember that I’m on your side here, and I’ve dealt with more crime lords than you have.”

“Right.” She felt like such an ass. Ryder closed her eyes. Migraine. Again. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Vetra shrugged. “Don’t look so bummed. I don’t care if you fuck him.”

Ryder ignored this. “Wait. How many crime lords have you dealt with?”

“Does it matter? They’re mostly dead.” Imperious, Vetra keyed in the shuttle request to deliver them back to the Tempest. Ryder squinted up at her.

“You know that thing where there’s like a hundred rats locked in a box together and eventually they eat each other until only the strongest one’s left?”

“Ugh,” Vetra wailed. She looked genuinely horrified. “Seriously Ryder, what the fuck? Rats? Those furry things with the little wormy tails, right?”

“I mean it’s not like I ever did it!” Ryder defended. Vetra continued to look repulsed.

“Why are humans so gross?” she moaned. She spent most of the shuttle ride sitting as far away from the Gross Human as possible.

Ryder, meanwhile, spent her time bracing herself for the Mom Coalition, and the snarky looks she’d probably have to endure from Vetra, Chief Audience Member.

Upon arriving at the Tempest, however, Ryder realized she’d made a mistake. She’d assumed Lexi wouldn’t have adapted her tactics. Vetra had already settled into a comfortable vantage point against the wall when Lexi, smiling beatifically, said only, “Oh, Ryder. Your brother’s expecting you.”

“What.” Ryder said. It was not really a question or even an accusation—more like an instinctive, deep rejection. Lexi sniffed.

“I do have the authority to notify next-of-kin in states of emergency. Like, when you go missing.”

“Oh man,” Vetra chortled. “You’re gonna get it.”

“What.” Ryder said again. This wouldn’t do. She cleared her throat. “What did you tell him?”

“Probably just that his sister’s fucking a gang leader,” Vetra whispered gleefully, then in her normal voice, “I mean you are though, right?”

Like Ryder really needed a reminder of how much she wanted to punch a hole through the wall right now. She glowered at Vetra. And Lexi. And the whole damn universe. Assholes. Her arm buzzed. She had four missed calls from Scott—meaning her upcoming conversation with him had officially reached natural disaster levels of bad.

“I hope there’s something left of me after all this,” Ryder said pointedly, now shuffling to her cabin. “I hope you’ve all picked out your new positions of authority following my death. But just remember: someone’s getting a bot downloaded into their head. No movie nights while the mourning period’s on. You’ll be sorry. You’ll all be sorry.”

“Stalling is unattractive.” Lexi snapped. Vetra nodded. Heartless bastards.

Ryder sealed the door to her cabin, walked to the middle of the room, and simply stood there. She gathered her courage. Scott was still 14 seconds younger than her and, also, had once dated three Krogan at the same time, so his opinion on her love life was PRETTY RICH IF YOU ASKED HER—!

Her omni-tool throbbed, interrupting her outrage. Reyes? Scott. Oh, god, it already was Scott. Five missed calls meant she might as well start setting up his guest room. “No, no, no, no,” Ryder whispered. “SAM, put him through. Shit.”

“Shit,” Scott echoed back at her, with venom. SAM had transferred the call to her room’s main terminal, making her brother’s (furious) expression five times life-size.

“Scott!” Ryder laughed nervously. Her brother was glaring. He glared like their mom. Why was everyone in their family so much scarier than her? “Hey! You look tan. It’s good. A good look. I mean, it suits you better than being frozen for hundreds of years. The coma thing was not awesome either. But at least it beats acne! Right?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. So Scott had clearly not forgotten being fifteen. Ryder laughed nervously, now loathing herself. “So, how are the Krogan?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said flatly. “Probably fine, since they can survive nuclear fallout.”

“Yep. Nuclear fallout. Gotta love aliens!” Ryder babbled. She looked frantically for some sort of plausible interruption: the Kett attacking, a sudden loss of gravity, a hull breach, her pet space rodent’s sudden mutation?

All very manageable problems.

“The Krogan have been aggressively expanding their territory on Elaaden by building roads and aqueducts,” Scott said coolly. “Also, shooting things.”

“The tried and the true.”

“Cut the shit,” Scott snapped, his eyebrows shooting up even as his voice lowered—an intimidation tactic he’d copied from his mother. Ryder could feel herself physically shrinking.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the Nexus sent me here—”

“Don’t start,” Scott interrupted. The video feed of him wavered, and for one glorious second, Ryder thought she might be able to avoid The Conversation. But he was back, snarling, “Do you seriously think I’m going to hang out in a desert while my sister acts out her own Shakespearean tragedy in Andromeda’s asshole? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Ryder coughed. “I think calling it a Shakespearean tragedy is pretty strong.”

“Is it?” Scott screeched. So the feed was definitely not flickering, as she had previously thought. That was just her brother’s rage-spit. “Because from my point of view,” Scott yelled, “I’m watching my last family member ignore procedure because she thinks playing detective for some shady-ass flyboy is more important than her life.”

Ryder squirmed as the familiar Familial Guilt began chewing up her insides. “Look, Scott—I don’t know what you’ve heard, and I get that this has you freaked out, but everything’s fine. It’s seriously fine. I’m not doing anything outside of mission protocols—I’m not, like, running off on my own—,” guilt levels were now overwhelming, Ryder swiftly changed direction, “—and anyway, I don’t think half the people here even know I’m the Pathfinder.”

The angry lines in Scott’s face grew deeper with every word she spoke. For a long moment, he was silent, only glaring at her. She could see him chew the inside of his cheek—an old habit. When he spoke next, his anger had been muffled into resolution. “You shouldn’t be there,” Scott said calmly. “And you know it. You should be with me. We should be continuing Dad’s work, our work—together. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is, Scott!” Ryder burst, “Of course it’s what I want!”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Then wrap it up, and leave. Or I’ll come to you. You might be the Pathfinder, and maybe that means that the others can’t stop you, but you’re my sister. The Nexus can go to hell.”

“Scott—!” Ryder started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. She stared at the screen for over a minute, seething. This was too much. He wasn’t even the older twin! There was a line between concern and controlling and why did no one seem to observe that?

Without another outlet, Ryder simply shrieked. It was sharp, and loud, and none of her crew apparently thought it sounded urgent enough to warrant investigating. Ryder threw herself upright, pacing angrily. It wasn’t enough to have Aya, the Nexus, and her entire crew riding her ass for doing her job, now her baby brother was joining the fray. Great. Just great.

Ryder stormed out of her quarters, brushing past a jittery Kallo, who was lurking near the Med-Bay.

Wait.

Ryder turned around. “Did Suvi eat something?”

“She ate three!” Kallo wailed.

Ryder shrieked again.