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sylvia-forest · 10 months

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[CN] Shaw's Extrajudicial Hunting Heart Date

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoiler's for a Date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[This date was translated with the help of Google translate and by my lovely friend!]

✧[Section 1]✧

Steward: Sorry, no one can leave the villa until Mrs. Laburnum's family heirloom is found.

Suddenly a dissatisfied commotion arose within the feminine figure, a man took the lead and stood up.

Man: You want to detain us? Do you know who I am?

His subsequent words were forced back by the black muzzle of the gun in the butler's hand. The crowd let out a murmur, but the butler raised his jaw indifferently.

Steward: I know who you are, sir, but you also need to know whose territory this is.

The melodious music flowed in each other's eyes, and I pursed my lips and took a few quiet steps back, looking sideways out the window.

Sure enough, dozens of cars drove up from the mountain road not far away, and surrounded the villa layer by layer.

Villa, theft, undercurrent, treacherous situation…

For a moment, I almost thought I had stepped into some third-rate gang movie.

Flashback starts—

—a week ago.

MC: Ahhh I can't think of it— I am bored–

I lay on Shaw's bed and rolled around in boredom. Shaw stopped typing on the keyboard and raised his eyebrows.

Shaw: What, are you bored with me?

MC: Nah!

MC: I still have a script for a crime movie to write, obviously I listened to the criminal investigation lectures and found the material but I still feel that the immersion is not enough......

MC: It's hard to take a vacation now, and I'm still thinking about it.

Shaw: I understand, so you think your script is too bland, and you want the protagonist's story to be more exciting? MC: That's about right,.....

I just sighed halfway, when my vision was suddenly blocked by a letter that floated in.

Shaw: For you. MC: What's this?

Shaw: Good stuff to inspire you.

I opened the envelope and there was an invitation letter inside. Although the South Asian characters with curved strokes are illegible, I can still understand the Chinese attached below.

MC: Dear Ling Lin, I sincerely invite you to come to Danfei Mountain Villa to attend the birthday banquet of Mrs. Laburnum… MC: Wait a minute, who is Ling Lin? This Mrs. Laburnum, Who is it again?

Shaw: Ling Lin is my pseudonym. As for Mrs. Laburnum, you shouldn't care who she is, it doesn't matter. Shaw: I did an errand for this lady, and she was so pleased with my business skills that she's inviting me as a VIP. Shaw: Round-trip plane, pick-up, and drop-off at the manor, all-inclusive on the opposite side. Shaw: It's a pity that I happened to have something to do a few days ago, and I was thinking about how to push it off. Shaw: If you are willing to attend this banquet for me, then you are Ling Lin.

Shaw moved his finger holding the invitation letter to the side, and nodded as if pointing something, his upturned eyes were full of cunningness.

Shaw: Have a great time, and… make sure not to reveal anything.

—Flashback ends

MC: If I had known, I wouldn't have accepted Shaw's invitation. .... Is this what he meant by spiritualism? MC: Dropping me in a gang villa?

Angrily, I rubbed the little man with Shaw's face a hundred times in my heart. At this moment, the door of the banquet hall was pushed open.

The person who came was wearing a black suit, and the twilight fell on his eye-catching blue-purple hair, which was reflected in my stunned pupils.

?.? [In English]: Chief, your garden is cleaned up.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

✧[Section 2]✧

MC: Apart from not being able to leave the villa, am I free within the villa?

Shortly after the party was over, I immediately called for a waiter. The other party nodded respectfully to me after hearing the words.

Waiter: Certainly. Miss Ling Lin, you are our honored guest, and we will meet all your requirements. MC: Then I need a bodyguard because you guys scared me today.

I raised my head confidently, with a deliberately arrogant tone.

Waiter: Okay, let's arrange bodyguards for you... MC: No, I have a candidate. MC: It's the handsome young man who came to report to your steward this evening. Waiter: These… this list of people was found from outside, a little impolite, not aware of the rules, maybe we should… MC: Is it because they don't know the rules?

I let out a wow sound and slowly stroked the diamond ring on my finger.

MC: What I need... A bodyguard to calm me down. Waiter: …… !!Sorry, I didn't understand Miss's needs, I'm going to ask someone!

The waiter, red-faced, hurried away, and in a few moments came with the man I had asked for.

Waiter: Shaw, this is our honored guest, take good care of her and meet all her requirements, understand?

Shaw: …..

Shaw stood behind the waiter and glared at me, his voice coming through his teeth.

Shaw: I know. MC: Well, you're a good boy, so come on in and have a little chat.

I grinned as I pulled Shaw's tie and led him inside, closing the door with my foot in the process.

Shaw: Hey, what are you trying to do —woo

He stumbled under his feet and I accidentally pushed him onto the bed.

I looked down at Shaw condescendingly, and ground my teeth.

MC: Shouldn't I be asking you that? MC: You asked me to attend the banquet, then you became the guard, what games are you truly playing?

Shaw: Just…the fun game.

Shaw lazily lay back, stretching out his hands.

Shaw: Don't you think what happened today is very interesting, just to provide inspiration for your exhausted script? MC: ——Incredible the heck!

I was so angry that I rushed over to pinch his face, but he grabbed my wrist.

Shaw: Tsk tsk, you’re quite a firecracker, you can catch on instantly. MC: I'm not mad, it's because you didn't say anything… Shaw: Okay, okay, let me give you a little spoiler. Shaw: Didn't I say that Mrs. Laburnum is not important? It's because this birthday banquet itself is a cover, and the real purpose is that someone wants to conduct an underground antique trade. MC: I didn’t understand, they made their deals, why confiscate the guests…. Shaw: Because when the bad guys were clearing out, they realized they were missing one of their Golden Crowns.

Shaw: Although they suspected that some of you distinguished guests might have tampered with something, they didn't dare to say it directly. So, they had to come up with a made-up story to buy some time. Shaw: After all, even though they claimed they couldn't find the family heirloom and wouldn't let us leave, in reality, it's at most three days. If they don't release us by then, things could get much more complicated. MC: ……

I couldn't say the words "that's how it is", because my mind was still dizzy.

I looked at the confident and flamboyant face under me, and vaguely felt that what he "spoiled" was probably just the tip of the iceberg of the whole incident.

And he probably has more scripts than I imagined. I opened my mouth.

MC: So you haven't answered my original question - what exactly are you doing here? Shaw: Me?

Shaw chuckled. The palms clamping my wrists pulled me down, and I couldn't help but fall into his embrace.

Shaw: I'm worried about Miss Ling Lin, so I'm here to be her bodyguard.

Hmph, who would believe it! Big liar!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

✧[Section 3]✧

Before I knew it, I had been detained here for two days. But early this morning, Shaw disappeared, and he didn't send me a message until just now.

Shaw's message: "If you want inspiration for the script, come to the garden's artificial mountain now. I'll broaden your horizons."

I hesitated for a while, but in the end, I couldn't hold back my curiosity, and while secretly spurning myself, I immediately walked towards the garden.

In the past two days, due to the impact of the theft incident, the manor has been followed by gang members.

There were far fewer guards in the garden, but they were not absent. I forced myself to walk past them calmly and finally stopped by the rockery.

MC: Where is he?

Shaw: Here, I have been waiting for you for a long time.

Shaw peeked out from behind the artificial fountain, gesturing towards me. I circled around and discovered there was a hidden door right in front of me.

He walked into the secret passage first, and I quickly followed, looking around curiously.

MC: How do you know there was a secret passage here?

Shaw: What's the point of being in the intelligence business if you can't find out this much information? Shaw: There are many secret paths in this garden, not just this one. Shaw: For decades, there has been no peace here, and Mrs. Laburnum has expanded her business so much. Just in case, she must keep a way out for herself.

Judging from Shaw's tone, he was quite familiar with the disputes in this area. Could it be that this was also part of the work of the intelligence dealers?

During the conversation, we have come to the side of the secret passage. After he scratched the password, he entered something, and the door opened.

This was indeed a dressing room for VIPs. Shaw pressed the button, and after the wardrobe was lowered, a shelf full of guns rose up.

MC: This is….

Shaw: Weapons room. Do some pre-war preparations and pick the best ones.

Shaw looked at the firearms with prudent eyes, as if he was appraising antiques.

MC: You... still know how to appreciate firearms? Shaw: Of course, I am professional.

Shaw squinted at me and sneered.

Shaw: Would you believe me if I told you I had military training in this area? MC: Really? Shaw: Wrong, all learned from online shooting games. You're so stupid to believe everything I say. MC: …..

At this time Shaw had finished picking, and took down a gun from the shelf. He sat sideways on the cabinet, rolled up his sleeves, and was about to open the magazine.

MC: You are hurt?

Only then did I notice that there was a long wound hidden under his sleeve.

Shaw: ... It might be that I accidentally scraped against something during the morning stroll, I guess. MC: A wound this long, how could it possibly have been scraped without noticing! I'll go look for a bandage, just wait a moment.

The weapon room was well equipped, I quickly found the medicine box, and dug out bandages and potions from it.

MC: Hand.

Shaw obediently handed me his arm, his eyelashes were lowered the whole time, and his brows would twitch suddenly only when the cotton swab passed across the wound.

When I wrapped the thin ribbon for him, he suddenly raised his head.

Shaw: Would you like to be closer to the "stage"? MC: What do you mean? Shaw: Take you to experience something more exciting. MC: ….. Shaw.

I rolled up his sleeve for him before looking at him seriously.

MC: I don't have to ask you what your role is in this, but you can't use me to perfect your "script". Shaw: …..

Shaw opened his mouth as if he was a little surprised that I would say this, then he smiled, did not reply to my words immediately, but took the magazine from the rack.

He casually held the bullets in his mouth, first cleaned the parts with pine oil, and then loaded the bullets neatly one by one.

The black glove caressed the cold gun barrel familiarly, and the hard weapon was like a docile plaything in his hands.

I've seen this kind of expression in antique shops and on the stage, but at this moment, appearing in the bloody weapon room added a touch of charm to his eyebrows and eyes.

My heartbeat inexplicably became a little faster, Shaw seemed to feel me holding my breath, and suddenly raised his gaze.

With a twist of his wrist, the long gun barrel provoked my jaw, which was frivolous and dangerous.

Shaw: Miss, do you want to think about it again? Shaw: I'll be your bodyguard.

—

Under the night, a car slowly drove away from the mountain villa, and stopped beside an inconspicuous forest after lingering on the road for a few laps.

I was taken out of the car by Shaw, and we arrived in front of a warehouse under the guidance of several men in black.

Man in black: Go in.

The chained gate opened with a bang, and the light from inside made me close my eyes, and when I opened them again, I found a familiar person - the steward of the villa.

There were several packed packages around him, and the men in black with guns all around seemed to be protecting these packages rather than protecting him.

The steward stared at me sullenly at this moment, then turned to look at Shaw, and asked something in the local language.

Shaw raised the corner of his mouth and pressed my shoulder.

Shaw: Yes, I've looked into that. Shaw: Among all the guests, only "Ling Lin" was fake, because the real Ling Lin should be a man.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

✧[Section 4]✧

I took a deep breath and looked at everyone in panic.

MC: I...I'm really Ling Lin!

Shaw: Is that so? But according to the information I found, this Ling Lin is not only a man, but also possesses a lightning Evol. Shaw: Last time he relied on this trick to help Mrs. Laburnum solve a big problem... Boss, you are someone close to Mrs., do you have any impression? Steward: I did hear the woman talk about it on the phone. Shaw: Isn't that enough?

Shaw clamped my neck with one hand and held my wrist with the other, leaning against the side of my neck with a dangerous smile.

Shaw: Ms. Ling Lin, show us your lightning Evol.

This guy is a real showman!

I slandered him fiercely in my heart, but the expression on my face became more and more broken. After a few murmurs, I lowered my head helplessly.

Click.

All of a sudden, several guns around the steward were aimed at me, and Shaw quickly waved his hands when he saw this.

Shaw: Hey, hey, don't be so eager to see blood, boss, how unlucky. Shaw: It seems that this counterfeit chick maybe someone who played a trick. Before I find out the relationship between her and the "Golden Crown", my suggestion is not to touch her. Steward: Find out? Where is the time for an investigation now?

The butler raised his voice, his face flushed with anger.

Steward: Tonight, the goods in my hand must be sold! Shaw: So you mean, don't check the whereabouts of the golden crown, and trade directly? Steward: Nonsense, do you know that the transaction has already been targeted by that woman and the police, if you don’t let go, we’re all over! Shaw: This is against the rules. The boss on my side asked for all the goods on the list. Steward: What do you mean?

Shaw maintained the posture of "holding" me, and raised a wanton smile towards the opposite side, and the other hand was filled with electric current.

Shaw: I mean... how dare you do bad things under Mrs. Laburnum's nose?

Click — everyone did not react to the moment, the brightly lit warehouse suddenly went dark.

Steward: —Backup power! Where's the backup! When the light turns on, kill them both!

Chaos exploded in this small space, and when the lights were turned on again, everyone froze on the spot.

Shaw: Just now your old man said, who do you want to kill?

Dozens of pitch-black gun barrels were pointed directly at Shaw and me, but we only had one gun on Shaw's side, but no one dared to attack us.

I was half squatting beside Shaw, holding a blue and white vase in one hand, with an ancient painting at my feet, and looking at the crowd with a smile on my face.

MC: I'm a delicate girl, and if my hand shook when the gun went off, and I accidentally shattered this national treasure porcelain vase; MC: Or if blood splattered onto this ancient painting at my feet, it wouldn't look very good, would it? Steward: ……

The butler's complexion was already so ugly that it couldn't get any more ugly, and the voice was squeezed out from between his teeth.

Steward: Who the hell are you guys? Cops? Shaw: Cops? Hahaha how is it possible!

The broken golden eyes were full of arrogance and cunningness, he pulled the trigger.

boom—

Everyone was startled by his sudden empty gun, and when their gaze returned, they noticed that Shaw had something new in his hand.

It was the locator.

Shaw: I'm wanted by the cops...just a normal bad guy who works for money.

The warning bell rang throughout the stretch of mountains, and the steward was in danger, and was escorted to the other side by several burly men.

—

A woman in a suit came over to us after counting the antiques in the warehouse and saying something to her communicator.

Woman: Mr. Ling Lin, madam is thanking you and your partner. Woman: But Madame has a question. Why didn't you follow her plan? Shaw: Because I don't like to be on schedule. I didn't listen to you when we cooperated last time, didn't we get things done as usual? Shaw: By the way, is it possible to pay now?

Woman: …..

The woman was shocked by Shaw's straightforwardness, she exchanged a few words with the communicator in a foreign language and then nodded.

Woman: Mrs. said that the wrongly packaged golden crown will be repackaged and given to you. Woman: She also said... "Mr. Ling, at your age, you have such vision and skill, maybe she can give you a wider world."

Shaw: Sorry, I'm just a college student tormented by a dissertation project and have no interest in your career.

The person being explored by Shaw’s Tai Chi was hit back, and they smiled with a sense of understanding, choosing not to say much more, then turned around, and left.

[T/N]: In this context, "Tai Chi" likely refers to a martial arts technique or action that Shaw used to counter or respond to the other person's investigation or exploration. It could be symbolic of a skillful and effective defense or response.

I folded my arms and raised my chin at him.

MC: Can you tell me the whole story now?

Shaw: Okay, but there's really not much to say about it.

Shaw: Mrs. Laburnum has already detached from the responsibility, but her subordinates always have people with suspicious moves, therefore she found me to help, checking out who is being so restless. Shaw: She gave me an invitation letter because she wanted me to act as a guest and mix in with them, but I feel that this position was too slow for collecting information, so I might as well send you. MC: Then you became the middleman in the transaction between the two parties? Shaw: Pretty much. Shaw: It's in my nature to have it both ways. MC: By the way, that so-called golden crown...in the end, How did you lose it? Shaw: What do you say?

He winked at me. I immediately reacted.

MC: ——You stole it?!

Shaw: What do you mean, "steal"? It's not nice. Shaw: I snuck into the manor with the antique inventory and found it in one of the least guarded areas, so I hid it. Shaw: If I hadn't delayed them this long, how could we have caught them? MC: ……

Although everything Shaw said made sense, it just made people want to grind their teeth.

Shaw: Why this face? Oh, I forgot to compliment you, you are upset, right? Shaw: All in all, we worked well together this time, and your acting— was sloppy, but you did manage to fool the other side. MC: Tsk, Thank you for the compliment. Shaw: So you have participated in such an immersive game, do you think it was exciting enough, do you have any inspiration? MC: Yes, and I'm going to give you a part in my play.

Shaw: What role... Ugh!

Angrily, I stood on tiptoe, vented my anger, and hit Shaw with my forehead.

Seeing him clutch his chin in astonishment, I couldn't help laughing.

MC: A big bad guy who takes his girlfriend on an adventure!

—

🔫 Call

#I really hate tumblr newest update!#anyways this date contain all the elements which a detective movie have-#and we discovered a new side of shaw which we weren't aware off😎#mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn #mlqc shaw #mlqc ling xiao #mlqc translations #mr love queen's choice #mlqc #love and producer

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solarpunkpresentspodcast · 4 months

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It’s Time to End the Hero’s Journey

I don’t know about you, but I’ve absolutely had enough of it: the story structure known as the hero’s journey.

It’s everywhere, from Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark to just about every Bruce Willis or Tom Cruise movie you’ve ever seen even through to Barbie and The Hunger Games. A hero is called to action, refuses the call before begrudgingly accepting it, has adventures in which (generally) he is repeatedly tested, receives assistance from mentors and other helpers, is brought low by a nemesis shortly before (generally) ultimately succeeding, and comes home an enlightened person.

Brought to public awareness as a common pattern in myth by Joseph Campbell in his books, like The Hero With a Thousand Faces, it has irritatingly come to take over western, industrialized movie making and mass market fiction. We have even, to a frightening large extent, internalized our own personal narratives as hero’s journeys thanks, in part, to the self-help industry.

But this is all laziness and a terrible failure of imagination. On top of being egotistical and self-indulgent, the hero’s journey is far from the only structure possible for stories. Worse, its sharp focus on the individual and the male experience of heroism, instead of on community or other ways of moving through life, it has us longing for strong leaders of single–minded, masculine vision. And it has us dreaming of ourselves rising the occasion in the fight against tyranny and catastrophe instead of imagining ourselves working together with other people to solve systemic problems before they plunge us into exactly that sort of catastrophe and tyranny.

Oh, Have You Ever Heard This Story Before

Even if you haven’t been formally introduced to it, you encounter the hero’s journey all the time. Lifted from myths like the wanderings of Odysseus, the story of Jonah, the life of Buddha, and many fairy tales, the hero’s journey has morphed into what feels like our default mode of storytelling.

Take the “save the cat” rules for script writing, which are just the hero’s journey template. Just about every Hollywood blockbuster now follows this formula. Not just just about every Bruce Willis and Tom Cruise (and the Rock and Vin Diesel and Liam Neesen and etc) movie ever, but all the super hero movies. Even female protagonists are frequently shoehorned into the hero’s journey template (see: Angelina Jolie in “Salt” and “Mr. & Mrs. Smith”; Katniss Everdeen in the Hunger Games books and films; Mila Jovovich in all the Resident Evil movies; and even the little girl at the heart of the story of “Spirited Away”), as if the only way to be interesting is if you’re a hero just like the guys.

But This Is Not Great

While these stories make for great escapism, they’re not great for actually changing the world.

Look at the sort of places the hero’s journey goes…

At the end of the movie Edge of Tomorrow, it becomes clear that the whole point of Tom Cruise’s character’s saving the world from alien invasion is that he’s learned to be a brave, bold hero, rather than a selfish coward. This doesn’t make him less arrogant, but it means he gets the girl, the satisfaction of knowing he has saved the life of anyone he will ever meet, and a magical fresh start that wipes away the negative consequences of his previous insufficiently heroic behavior.

Or, look at Katniss at the end of the fourth Hunger Games movie (Mockingjay, part 2). She’s sitting in a sunny meadow with her husband and young children. On the one hand, oh, I get it know. This is why ordinary people pick up arms and go to war in the face of a terrible threat. She fought so hard and sacrificed so much, not just for her own survival, but so her as not yet even conceived of children could grow up in freedom. It was all worth it. On the other hand, she’s been transformed from being a fearless warrior, skilled hunter, revered leader, and the chosen one who fomented an entire revolution by staying true to her ideals and made the world safe from not one, but two tyrants into a harmless young mother, utterly unthreatening in a faded, modest calico dress, tending to her husband and young family. The whole point of her journey is that the minute she she doesn’t need to be a strong, fearless, rousing warrior anymore of unprecedented skill with a bow and arrow she can happily settle into domesticated bliss, aside from a bit of PTSD? That, deed done, she can now settle into the fate she was truly made for, that of being tame and ordinary and enjoying her subservient place in the patriarchy? I mean, ARGH!

And then there’s “Oppenheimer”, which took the incredible story of everyone and everything that converged to create the atomic bomb, drop it on Japan, and start the Cold War and turned it into the personal hero’s journey of one man. So ridiculous and, frankly, so meh. Go read The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes—which is one of the best books ever written—if you want your mind properly blown by this story. Sure, his story of the endeavor is way more challenging to the reader—you’re going to be exposed to actual information about atomic physics— than the celebrity biopic approach. But you get so much gain for your pain if you push through the reading of the story. You’ll learn so much of the history of the chemistry of the elements that make up existence, of the various genius scientists (all of whom were some pretty interesting characters) involved in the advancement of nuclear science and the Manhattan Project, and you’ll truly feel the horror of the scientists when the military comes along and takes the product of their hard work to save the free world and doesn’t give them any say on how it will be used. But Oppenheimer (in the movie about him). Oh, poor guy, gets his name drawn through the mud by a political nemesis and is a bit sad when all the people die when the bomb is dropped. Sheesh. Doing its sad little treading of the boards in the shadow of The Making of the Atomic Bomb, Oppenheimer is the perfect example of how limited, narrow minded, narcissistic, and shallow the hero’s journey approach can be compared to other ways of telling the story.

We Should Be Telling All Sorts of Stories

Honestly, these hero’s journey stories aren’t the only kinds of stories we should be telling—either within in the genre of solarpunk or not. Not only is all this heroic journeying getting boring, there are major downsides to locking ourselves into this single vision of story. Like becoming fans of authoritarianism and monarchy.

David Brin had some great words about how Star Wars’ use of the hero’s journey results in main messages that are authoritarian and undemocratic, leading us, for instance, to forgive—and even fete—great evil, despite the millions of death that person (Darth Vader) has caused, so long as he performs a personal act of redemption in the end. Star Wars and its hero’s journey involving the Skywalkers has us cheering on people with a magical hereditary right to power, as if we’re fine with consigning basically everyone else to be followers.

Jo Walton and Ada Palmer also touched on the down sides and limitations of the hero’s journey, at least adjacently, in their editorial in Uncanny Magazine that called for more stories that don’t center on a single protagonist, called to action, from whom all change unfolds. Using history as their example, the point out that events generally happen because of the actions of the many, not just of one special single person. I might add, when big outcomes do hinge upon the actions, leadership, and unique talents of one single person, it’s generally someone despotic, like Hitler or Stalin. And, as pointed out to us by one of our listeners, Jon Ronson has a great podcast with one episode in particular about how trying to understand your own life as a hero’s journey can lead you to brainwash yourself straight down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories, until the call to action you hear is to undermine, if not actually overthrow, democracy.

To the Typewriter Computer, Solarpunks!

Here’s my call to action by you. Let’s let solarpunk stories dump the hero’s journey, even as a means to explore life in a solarpunk future. Let’s use all the other story structures instead.

Let’s tell stories about endeavors—like the making of the atomic bomb—not about a person undertaking an endeavor—like Oppenheimer herding his cats at Los Alamos.

Let’s tell stories about relationships between people, or between a group of people and the natural world.

Let’s tell stories where the actions of an individual on his, her, or their own never advance the plot.

Let’s tell stories about moments, or about conflicts, where what’s interesting is the development of the moment or conflict, not of the protagonist and antagonist’s paths through them.

And when we do tell stories about a single protagonist, let’s not keep religiously following the structure laid out by Joseph Campbell and copied by save the cat.

Not every protagonist needs to be a hero! There are so many other arcs to follow.

#Christina #hero's journey #dystopia #apocalypse

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 4 months

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Persona 3/Fire Emblem Three Houses Crossover Megapost

In celebration of Persona 3 Reload coming out and reigniting my love for S.E.E.S, and wanting to write Three Houses once again, I figured I could do both at once. If you wanna see more, feel free to request interactions/scenarios, I'd be happy to! Enjoy the shenanigans of the Blue Lions and S.E.E.S!

Word Count: 3.2k Content: Blue Lions meeting the P3 Protagonists, Sylvain talking to Aigis, Dimitri talking to Minato and Minako, Byleth and Sothis meeting Elizabeth, and Blue Lions reacting to Personas

Blue Lions meeting the P3 Protagonists ===============================

Byleth walked through the crowded hallways of Garreg Mach Monastery, accompanied by the two mysterious visitors that appeared during the bandit attack.

One was a blue haired boy, both hands in his pocket as he emotionlessly glanced around, ignoring the gaze of the students.

The one beside him was a brown haired girl with a ponytail, who in contrast seemed far more enthusiastic about meeting everyone, waving hello to some of the students.

(Minako) "Come on, you can at least smile a little! We're representing Gekkoukan after all."

Minato rolled his eyes and coldly replied.

(Minato) "Junpei is already ruining our reputation for us back at the entrance. No need for me to do anything."

Minako sighed and looked at her new teacher with a wry smile.

(Minako) "Sorry, this is probably not a good introduction, is it?"

Byleth shrugged, turning to face the both of them. His expression was not too dissimilar from Minato's.

(Byleth) "Honestly, I don't really know how to approach this better than you all. I'm a mercenary."

Minako put a finger to her chin as her brows furrowed.

(Minako) "Hm...Think we should have gotten Mitsuru-senpai to take care of the talking for us?"

(Minato) "Probably."

Minako shrugged shortly after thinking about the situation, her smile quickly coming back.

(Minako) "Well, too late for regrets now!...Actually, where are we going?"

(Byleth) "We're heading towards the...Blue Lions classroom I believe. Dimitri said he wanted to thank you two personally, I have to go to meet with some other people, but I'll check back with you all later."

After departing with Byleth, the siblings entered through a large double door and saw Dimitri surrounded by seven unfamiliar faces.

Dimitri gave them a nod of acknowledgement as the group scattered to make room.

(Dimitri) "I take it your group is getting accustomed to Garreg Mach?"

Minako smiled in response, first looking at everyone's expression and taking note of them before giving an answer. Minato meanwhile kept his stoic look and let his sister do the speaking.

(Minako) "Psh, not in the slightest! We've never seen anything like this back in our world."

An orange haired girl spoke up.

(Annette) "Another world? Wow, so the rumors weren't kidding! That'd certainly explain the weird looking clothes."

A larger dark skinned man standing next to Dimitri followed up her comment with a respectful bow.

(Dedue) "Where your group comes from is irrelevant, we all owe you a debt of gratitude for saving his highness."

Minato nodded back.

(Minato) "Of course. And thanks for giving our friends a place to stay."

(Sylvain) "Jeez, that guy's a little intense. Doesn't he remind you of a certain someone?"

Sylvain elbowed Felix, who gave an annoyed glare back.

(Felix) "Shut up already. They can hear you, you know."

(Minako) "Eh, don't worry about my baby brother here! He's usually like this."

(Mercedes) "Oh, you two are siblings? I wouldn't have guessed!"

Minato replied in an emotionless tone, though it did not carry any hint of malice in it.

(Minato) "We get that a lot."

(Ingrid) "If there's anything you guys need help with, feel free to reach out! My name's Ingrid, by the way."

Everyone took a moment to introduce themselves.

(Ashe) "I really look forward to getting to you know you all!"

Minako gave him a warm smile back.

(Minako) "Me too! And though he may not look like it, this one is too!"

(Minato) "Hm."

The siblings departed the Blue Lions to find their own group, leaving them to converse amongst themselves.

(Dimitri) "They appear to be...a unique bunch."

(Annette) "Minako seems really nice! Though, I couldn't really get a read on her brother."

(Ingrid) "It probably won't take long for Sylvain to piss him off."

(Sylvain) "Hey, why are you making it sound like he will get angry at me? We could be best buds!"

(Felix) "Is that right? Well, I'm not holding my breath."

(Mercedes) "This is going to be a fun year with them around, that's for sure!"

(Ashe) "Probably super chaotic too. I wonder what the rest of their group is like."

(Dedue) "If they are anything like us, Ashe, I'm sure it won't take them long to adjust."

=============================== Sylvain talking to Aigis ===============================

Aigis appeared to be standing still near the greenhouse, quietly examining the plants.

She had been that way for nearly an hour before she was approached by Sylvain.

(Sylvain) "Hey there, Aigis! Whatcha doin' here?"

Her head stiffly turned to face Sylvain and gave a single nod, her face remaining unchanged.

(Aigis) "I am observing the plants in your world. They appear to be very similar to our own, but differ in properties and how they are utilized."

Sylvain tilted his head curiously, turning to look at the plants with a look of genuine curiousity.

(Sylvain) "Huh. I never really thought about that kind of thing before, but it must be crazy for you to see plants be made into healing potions."

(Aigis) "Negative. Plants were used by humans for medicinal purposes, ranging back thousands of years. But the potency of your flora appear to be far stronger than the ones found on Earth."

Her answer confused him, making him shake his head and remember why he was there to begin with.

(Sylvain) "...Okaaay, kinda lost me there. But, if you're wanting to see other things that are different, how about going out into town with me?"

(Aigis) "Are you asking me out on what they refer to as a 'date'?"

Sylvain chuckled at her question.

(Sylvain) "If you wanna call it that, then sure-!"

(Aigis) "The answer is no."

(Sylvain) "Wha- why not?!"

(Aigis) "Minato-san has specifically warned me to not go on any dates. Especially with you, Sylvain."

Though her tone was completely static, he could gleam a bit of malice in the response.

(Sylvain) "Okay listen, whatever he told you about me is not true!"

(Aigis) "He has not told me anything."

(Sylvain) "Then who did?"

Aigis paused for a moment before resuming.

(Aigis) "...The list is as follows: Ingrid, Felix, Dimitri, Dorothea, Yukari, Junpei, Mitsuru, Minako, Byleth-"

(Sylvain) "Alright alright, I got the message across! But surely you must be curious about going outside the Monastery for at least a few hours? I can be a tour guide at least!"

Aigis paused once again.

(Aigis) "...I comprehend. If this is not a date, then I do not have a problem with this request."

(Sylvain) "G-Great! See you in half an hour?"

(Aigis) "Affirmative. I also have an order I am obliged to follow, given by Minato and Minako in regards to you."

Sylvain wasn't even sure he wanted to know what it was.

(Sylvain) "And that is...?"

(Aigis) "I am authorized to use force if pressured onto a date."

(Sylvain) "F-Force?! Now hang on just a-"

(Aigis) "Commencing preparations. Please meet me by the entrance in half an hour."

Aigis walked away, leaving Sylvain standing by himself with an open jaw.

(Sylvain) "What the heck is with her?!"

C Support Reached!

=============================== Dimitri talking to Minato and Minako ===============================

Dimitri walked into the dormitories where the S.E.E.S members had taken up residence during their stay at Garreg Mach.

At the moment it was just Minato sitting on the couch with a strange device on his ears, and Minako reading a book from the library.

Minako looked up from her book and waved to Dimitri.

(Minako) "Hey, Dimitri! Surprised to see you here!"

Minato noticed Minako moving and grabbed the right side of his device and lifted it off. Dimitri could hear words coming out of it.

"Hey, hey, hey" Fueling the fire with the burning desire-

(Minato) "Hey."

(Dimitri) "Are those words coming out of that earmuff?"

(Minako) "Oh, that's right! I forget you guys don't know what headphones are!"

Minato raised an eyebrow at his sister.

(Minato) "We've been in a medieval world this entire time, and you forgot that it doesn't have technology like ours?"

(Minako) "Hush you! Anyways, that's a small...thingy that can play music, in short. Now whatcha need?"

Dimitri cleared his throat after focusing away from Minato's headphones.

(Dimitri) "Truthfully, I was curious to see what you all got up to in your free time. You seemed to have adjusted to the school life well, but I was wanting to make sure you could do so in your free time."

Minato shrugged nonchalantly.

(Minato) "We're managing, surprisingly."

(Minako) "Yeah, who knew that hanging out with a buncha people our age who can cast fireballs would seem so normal!"

(Dimitri) "That's another thing I wanted to ask. Your group seems well versed in combat already. What exactly is your home like?"

(Minako) "Weeeeeelll-"

Her voice trailed off, waving one hand dismissively.

(Minako) "Just self defense is all! We have to deal with vagrants in our world too."

(Dimitri) "Is...that right?"

(Minato) "You're a worse liar than Ashe-"

Minako immediately pointed at her little brother.

(Minako) "YOU! YOUR FACE, SHUT!"

That made Dimitri laugh.

(Dimitri) "I apologize, I did not mean to pry. I am just impressed more than anything."

(Minato) "Relatedly...Today's the first full moon here at Garreg Mach, right?"

Dimitri noticed how both their expressions suddenly became serious.

(Dimitri) "Y-Yes it is. It also means it's nearly been a month since you all first came here. Is the moon significant in your world?"

Minato sat up from the couch and put his hands into his pocket.

(Minato) "Very."

Minato began walking away from the group before giving Dimitri one last look.

(Minato) "You might get your answer sooner than you think."

As he exited the dorm, he turned to Minako.

(Dimitri) "Did I say something wrong?"

(Minako) "Oh, don't mind him. He's usually that much of a jackass...But he's not wrong...Say, how about we spar near midnight, Dimitri?"

=============================== Byleth and Sothis meeting Elizabeth ===============================

Byleth woke up in his bed, rubbing his eye before noticing Sothis was trying to shake him awake.

(Sothis) "Finally! Do you know how long I've been trying to- Know what? Forget it, that doesn't matter! There's something here!"

(Byleth) "Something here? What are you-"

He paused when he noticed there was a blue glow coming from outside the door to his room.

Byleth immediately grabbed his sword and nearly kicked down the door with Sothis floating behind him.

Only to see another door in front of him, glowing blue and with an energy he could not place the feeling of.

(Byleth) "That wasn't here yesterday."

(Sothis) "Your keen senses of observation never ceases to amaze me, child."

Byleth made no comment as he slowly circled around the door. There was nothing it led to, even on the other side.

Byleth saw a group of students walk past the door, giving him an odd look but saying hello, not even acknowledging the door's presence.

(Sothis) "The door feels...strangely familiar."

(Byleth) "Should we go inside it?"

The two exchanged a glance before slowly opening the door and entering it.

...

Inside sat Sothis's throne, now bathed in a ghastly blue aura, a table sitting in front of it, but most notable of all was the fact a woman was standing inside, alone.

(Sothis) "M-My throne!"

The woman turned towards her visitors and politely bowed.

She had blonde hair and a strange blue attire, adorned with a small hat that rested on her head.

While everything about her seemed to be human, the way she portrayed herself and everything surrounding her was anything but.

(???) "Welcome, to the Velvet Room."

(Sothis) "Velvet Room? This is MY room!"

(???) "...Ah, so it is! I was wondering why it was so empty. I hope you do not mind that I have taken up residence here, you have my sincerest apologies!"

Byleth reached for his sword, but suddenly realized it was gone. Deciding to question instead of fight, he simply asked:

(Byleth) "Who are you?"

The woman smiled at the question and bowed once again.

(Elizabeth) "My name is Elizabeth, it is a pleasure to be your acquaintance! I am the attendee to the two under your care."

It took a moment for them to realize who she was talking about.

(Byleth) "Minato and Minako?"

Suddenly, things made sense. Everytime Sothis appeared to talk to him, they appeared to be aware of her, despite the fact no one else in their group could.

They already weren't normal, but this further solidified that something else was at play here.

(Elizabeth) "The Arisato siblings, yes! Well, truth be told my brother is supposed to be here, but alas he is nowhere to be found. But I am more than enough to serve their purpose."

(Sothis) "What do you provide that requires taking over my home?"

(Byleth) "That's in my head, no less..."

(Elizabeth) "I provide them with the fusing of Personas for their journey. Nothing more, and nothing less! For we can only assist, never directly intervene.

Elizabeth put a finger to her chin, thinking about what to say next.

(Elizabeth) "As for the occupation, it seemed this was the only place I could manifest myself that could easily reach you as well. Your fates are all intertwined, after all!"

Sothis sighed and crossed her arms, floating over to Elizabeth.

(Sothis) "You couldn't ask?"

(Elizabeth) "I tried, multiple times. But I believe you were asleep everytime I attempted, and eventually found this empty room, save the throne."

(Byleth) "...That one is more of your fault than anything-"

(Sothis) "Be quiet."

(Elizabeth) "I look forward to getting to know you two as well."

(Byleth) "Well, I'm Byleth, and that's Sothis. I guess we'll get to know you too."

Suddenly, the door opened behind them.

(Minako) "I guess it makes sense for the Velvet room to- OHMYGOD!-"

Minako leapt back in fear while Minato only flinched.

(Minako) "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

(Minato) "It's that floating green thing again too-"

(Sothis) "EXCUSE ME?!"

=============================== Blue Lions Reacting to Personas ===============================

(Dimitri) "EVERYONE, TO THE CATHEDRAL!"

The Blue Lions and Byleth dashed across the bridge leading to Garreg Mach's cathedral, bathed in the ominous light of a full moon.

The previously calm black skies had darkened to a sickly pale green glow while being chased by monsters.

While they could kill a few of them, there were too many of them to deal with. And under the moonlight they appeared to be getting stronger.

Ashe, Mercedes, and Annette attempted to hold back the monsters with spells and arrows, but if they stood their ground they would have been overwhelmed.

Instead, Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, and Byleth held the ones in pursuit off while Ingrid and Sylvain tried to find a way inside.

(Sylvain) "Damn it, it's stuck!"

(Ingrid) "Then we gotta kick the door down!-"

Before she could attempt to do so, the ground they were standing on quickly darkened, making everyone look up.

A massive blob-like monster slithered down the walls, with too many arms to count protruding out of it, all wielding swords.

(Annette) "B-BEHIND US!"

Everyone turned around and gained distance as the monster crashed onto the concrete, sending bricks flying into the air at violent speeds.

The Blue Lions had been pincered by these creatures.

(Mercedes) "I-Is this the work of the same people that attacked the burial site?!"

(Dedue) "I am unsure if even they are capable of doing this! The people I had been speaking to suddenly turned into coffins!"

(Byleth) "Here's the plan, when I count to three, we break through these monsters coming from the bridge and make a run-"

Before he could finish his sentence, they all heard someone speaking to them.

(Fuuka's Voice) "Thank goodness, you all are still okay! Can you hear me?!"

(Felix) "Is that...Fuuka?!"

(Ashe) "Is she in danger too?! How can we hear-"

(Fuuka's Voice) "Everyone needs to get back to a safe distance from the Shadows on the bridge, right now!"

Without warning, the shadows suddenly burst into a black mist from what appeared to be an ice spell.

Mitsuru, Akihiko, Ken, Shinji, Aigis, and even their dog, Koromaru, were standing from the entrance, all wielding weapons.

(Mitsuru) "Everyone, escape to us, we'll keep you safe!"

Before anyone could react, Minato, Minako, Junpei, and Yukari ran in front of them, all wielding strange devices in their hands with red armbands.

(Dimitri) "Wait, that thing is too dangerous for you to-!"

Minako turned to them with a smirk, giving them a thumbs up and cutting Dimitri off.

(Minako) "Don't worry. Bandits and cultists are your guys things, Shadows are ours!"

(Junpei) "Hell yeah, time for us to finally shine!"

(Yukari) "Please focus, you two!"

(Minato) "You wanted to see where we got our combat skills from, right Dimitri? Here's your answer."

Everyone watched with confusion as they pointed strange devices to all their heads.

(Minato/Minako, Junpei, and Yukari)

"ORPHEUS!" "HERMES!" "IO!"

The monster seemed to recoil in surprise once the four pulled the trigger, summoning monsters of their own, igniting the area around them in a bright blue flame.

They rushed the monster with their weapons raised, joined by their ghastly summons and seemed to attack with near perfect synchronization.

Looking back at the bridge, the rest of them appeared to be doing the same and wiping out the smaller monsters with ease.

(Shinji) "The hell are you doing standing still, get a damn move on!"

(Byleth) "You heard them, MOVE IT!"

The Blue Lions did as commanded, running from the fight, though most of them couldn't tear their eyes off from what they were seeing.

(Sylvain) "Holy hell, they're tearing those things apart! What even are they?!"

(Felix) "Tch, no wonder they always seemed like they were holding back, it's because they were!"

(Annette) "Are those made from magic?!"

(Mercedes) "They look more like ghosts to me!"

(Ashe) "I-I hope they're not, but I'm glad they're on our side!"

(Ingrid) "Think they can teach us how to do that too?"

(Dedue) "I do not think we should be asking questions like these right now!"

(Dimitri) "Agreed, we need to find somewhere safe!"

(Byleth) What kind of place is their world where fighting monsters like these is normal for them?!

...

(Elizabeth) "Hah, I knew they'd have no problem."

Sothis watched the ongoing fight with her jaw opened wide, not believing what was happening.

...

Once the Full Moon Shadow was dispatched of, the members of S.E.E.S moved to find the Blue Lions.

(Fuuka) "Good work everyone, the rest of the shadows are disappearing en masse."

(Mitsuru) "Operation complete, though I cannot say I feel particularly great after this victory."

(Ken) "I can't believe the Dark Hour followed us here..."

(Koromaru) "Woof!"

(Aigis) "Koromaru agrees."

(Minato) "Makes sense something would be up if we could still use our evokers here, even outside the Dark Hour."

(Yukari) "I can't help but feel responsible. We brought the Dark Hour to a place that didn't even have to deal with it..."

(Junpei) "Saving one world was already great, but maybe we'll get the credit for two?"

(Shinji) "Tch, what a pain in the ass."

(Akihiko) "Suppose we just need to keep in mind of the moon here too, on top of all the other things to worry about."

(Minako) "Feels good finally getting to let loose without worrying about witnes-...Oh crap, where did the Blue Lions go! They didn't exactly look like they'd forget about this anytime soon!"

Fuuka quickly found where they were hiding, and S.E.E.S moved to find and explain everything they could.

Or at least, attempt to explain.

Mitsuru and Minato had to do most of the explaining.

#crossover #fe3h crossover #persona 3 crossover #persona 3 au #minato arisato #minako arisato #byleth eisner #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #blue lions #s.e.e.s

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tsubasagirl · 2 years

Text

All Yours (NSFW! Gladion x afab!Reader)

18+!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! Gladion and reader are aged-up 18 year olds (unlike the canon ages where Gladion is 13-16 and the protagonist is 11), therefore they are consenting adults. I don’t intend to write anything illegal here… Also this is my first time writing actual smut, and I’ve been imagining/fantasising about this one-shot(?) for a long time now. There is another smutty Gladion x afab!Reader (possibly a sequel to this one) that I’ve also had in mind for a while, but I guess we’ll see how this one goes first. Enjoy this whopping 4.3k word long, bitter-sweet/angsty, first time [uh-oh word] one-shot(?)…

Oh and a bonus sketch dump at the end, altho it doesn’t exactly relate to the story and it was drawn over 2 years ago (it’s very self-indulgent; I felt too ashamed and kinda afraid to share it anywhere, especially there being the controversial opinions on self-inserts and all… probably gonna be a tumblr-exclusive art post ahehe…) Of course, there’s just naughty stuff and swearing in here, but nothing extreme to leave a warning about (Also again, as I’ve said with my previous fanfics, feel free to give me any constructive feedback :))

It’s been around a year since I became the champion of Alola, and a year since Gladion became the Aether Foundation president. We also started dating shortly after we claimed our respective roles. We were both often busy doing our own thing, but every once in a while, we would meet up to spend quality time together. Otherwise, we would try our best to get in contact with each other during the little free time we had.

However, from the past few months, Gladion has gotten much busier with his duties as president, so our brief catch-ups via text and phone calls became less frequent, up to a few weeks ago where he stopped contacting me all together. Of course, I’m also busy with my own duties as champion, but as time passes with zero response from him, my mind has been getting more clouded with his absence. It’s for the best if I don’t nag him and let him focus on his work. I’ve also been refraining myself from going to Aether Foundation to check up on him in person, although occasionally, I’ve been asking Wicke on how things have been with him. It was always something like “He’s had to deal with several different responsibilities everyday.” I would also tell her that I trust her to look after him in the meantime, but even so, knowing how reckless and dedicated Gladion is when it comes to accomplishing his goals, I bet he hasn’t been eating or sleeping much…

It’s been almost three months since I’ve last seen him in person. I’m normally content with just texting or calling him regularly, but not being able to play with his soft blonde hair, not being able to stare deeply into his eyes, not being able to melt into his touch — I miss it all so much. I miss him so goddamn much. Whether you wanna see it as deep love or borderline obsession, it’s almost impossible for me to live on normally without it lingering in my mind 24/7.

I mostly have it all together, but it doesn’t help that I’m ultimately just a teenager who tends to get very emotional, sometimes feeling a certain fiery sensation that can’t easily be put out. Every once in a while, when I’m all alone in my room, my mind is completely cluttered with Gladion — I can only visualise his sharp emerald orbs, hungrily eating me up from head to toe, his rasp voice uttering my name with delight, his warm arms wrapped around my form as I immerse into his scent, knowing that he is mine and that I am his — I lose myself in my fantasies of him. Caressing my breasts and fondling their peaks, letting my essence almost soak my bed, massaging my pearl and sliding digits into my folds. It would be sensual at first, but the pace would soon hasten as I think about him more, imagining that it’s him playing with my body, fucking me with his fingers, teasing me with his tongue, satisfying me with his shaft. I want him. I want all of him. I would cry out for him, longing for his love and yearning for his attention.

Now, it’s come to the point where I have a day all to myself… except I have no idea on what to do... How did I end up here? Not mentally but physically standing here in front of the route 8 motel… I’m a mess. I probably look like a fool, having no proper business here, only in sandals, board shorts and a loose tank.

This is where I first met him outside of battle. I just barged in, only to be scolded to get out. What did I even expect back then? Everyone can agree that Gladion comes off as intimidating, and yeah, I was a little frightened when he scolded me, but I also can’t help but chuckle at the memory of that brief encounter. Remembering that moment where you looked miserable after Guzma defeated you, and you muttering how lonely you were… I wish I had met you sooner.

I… didn’t think much into visiting here, huh…? Don’t really have anything else to do… My Pokémon are resting back at home for all their hard work, so it’s just me here at the moment. I hesitantly step into the motel lobby.

I’m greeted by the owner with a gentle smile. “Welco— Oh! Champion [y/n]! What brings you here today?” I nod and smile weakly at her. “Hi. I… just wanted to check something in one of your motel rooms. Do… do you remember the blonde boy who had stayed here up until a year ago?” I stand kinda awkwardly as she thinks for a moment. What am I doing? “Oh, him! The boy who stayed here for two years? My, he sure was a mysterious one. Do you know him?” She looks at me curiously. I stammer, “Y-yes. I don’t know if you know, but from when he left, he’s been really busy taking care of his family business elsewhere, and… he also happens to be my boyfriend, ahehe…” The woman’s face lights up and slightly blushes. “Awww young love! I’m happy for you two.” I scratch the back of my head shyly and blush at the statement. “Thank you, I-I guess… Since he’s been so busy… he… he asked me to come here to find s… something for him… something that he may have accidentally left behind when he was staying here.” What kind of stupid request is this? “Is that so?” She asks with slight confusion. “I don’t recall any lost objects in his room after he left, unless I didn’t check properly.”

She offers the key for the room to me. “No one is staying in there at the moment, so you can take a look in there. I trust that you won’t make a mess in there haha!” I grab the key from her hand and nod, “thank you kindly.” Just as I’m about to turn around and walk out, she suddenly says, “um also, you… don’t look too well. Are you feeling okay?” I pause for a moment, a little caught off guard. Before I put any thought into it, I retort, “I… I’m fine, thank you. Just a bit tired from all the matches I’ve been having lately. It’s… also quite hot today so I probably look a little sweaty haha…” Her concerned expression remains unchanged but she replies, “o… okay… I hope you find the lost thing for your boyfriend. Say hi to him for me.” I only nod in response with a weaker smile. Jeez what is wrong with me?

As soon as I close the door behind me, I stumble my way hastily to Gladion’s former room a little too quickly, fumbling the door handle to unlock it, and bust inside before anyone else sees how much of a mess I am right now. The room is silent and empty. Of course it is. I look around slowly yet frantically, feeling slightly light-headed. Is it the heat, or am I just really tired? What… what am I doing here again? My eyes find a mirror to the right of the room, reflecting my pathetic, slouched posture. God I really do look awful.

My head whips to the bed in front of me. My body automatically flops upon it, slightly bouncing, face first. I groan loudly. I’m such an idiot. I peak one eye to lazily look around the room again. Looks slightly dusty in here. Seems like no one has been here for a while, yet I kinda feel at home. I’m already engulfed by the scent of the bed. Is it just me, or does it smell like him? Am I going crazy? He hasn’t been here it’s been a year of course it’s clean and not fresh with his scent.

I feel a bit more calm as the scent throws me into a trance. I unconsciously release a moan as my hands grip the sheets tightly. It’s like his scent has fully enraptured me. God, I’m hopeless. I tear up, kicking my sandals off my feet and bringing my legs close to me. I don’t care that I’m messing up the sheets at this point. I miss him so fucking much. Before I know it, one of my hands is deep under my shorts and underwear, feeling myself. Not only am I wet with tears but squirming out of horniness. His scent is intensifying the sensation. “Fuck,” I whimper, picking up the pace with my rubbing, “G-Gladion…”

I continue to play with my clit for a few minutes, when I hear creaking from a few rooms down outside. I jolt up and quickly rub my hand dry on my shirt. Crap, my shorts look slightly damp. Hope it just looks like sweat. The door creaks ajar as an oh-too-familiar face peaks from behind it. I briefly freeze in place, gawking at the surprise visitor. He opens the door slowly as he stumbles inside with slight hesitation and possibly shame in his eyes. I suddenly bolt towards him, almost tackling him against the wall as I throw my arms around him in the tightest embrace.

“GLADION! WHAT THE FUCK!” I cry out, sobbing into his shirt. He has one hand rubbing my back and the other caressing my head. He mumbles into my hair, “I’m so sorry, [y/n]. I… don’t think I can give you a good enough of an explanation for being away from you for so long…” I look up at him, feeling like a complete mess but finally whole again, my vision blurry with my overflowing tears. I fight the urge to slap him for making me feel this way, feeling internally destroyed to see how guilty and tired his own face looks. I dig my fingers into his scalp and grumble, “I’m… sorry too… for overreacting like this…” I shove my face into his chest again, engulfing his actual scent this time, “I… I just missed you so fucking much.” He embraces me tighter, stuttering, “you have every right to react this way. I decided to stay away from you so I could focus on my work, yet somehow we still found our way to each other again.”

I pull away and grab his hands, looking up at him again. “Why… why are you here…?” He grasps my hands tenderly and replies, “Wicke forced me to take a day off, and I found myself not knowing what to do, so my only idea was… to come back to where I kinda first started… dunno if that sounds weird…” His thumb rubs onto mind, looking a bit off to the side nervously. I stare blankly for a moment, then giggle, “hehe, funny enough… me too actually… I also have the day off today and didn’t know what to do. Next thing I knew, I found myself wandering here in hopes I could… see you?” Gladion stares back, wide-eyed for another moment, then chuckles, “well… what a turn of events.” We both laugh nervously but happily, and embrace each other once more. It feels like it’s been such a long time since either of us have been this happy, despite how stupid this situation is.

I tug his hand as I guide him to sit beside me on the bed. We stare at each other in awe, feeling kinda refreshed for the first time in what seems like in ages. “So… how’s everything at the foundation?” I ask, slightly swinging my legs back and forth. “Things have been really busy and strenuous, of course. However, I think I’ve gotten kind of a good hang of operations now,” Gladion explains as he briefly looks off into the distance, “and better news — from what I heard from Lillie, she’s only been getting much stronger as a trainer, and mother’s recovery has been going really well,” he rambles with excitement in his eyes, which I can only adore helplessly. “I’m glad things are getter better for you,” I say with a smile. He looks back at me, “…how about you?”

My body gets fluttery all over from the sight of his cute face. God how I missed seeing it, it drives me crazy in love sometimes. “Still going strong as champion!” I smile widely as I playfully flex one of my arms, “there’ve been some tough battles, sure, but I’m still the best! Although, I’m curious if you’ve thought up of some new battle tactics yourself, President Gladion.” His face flushes but he can’t help but beam proudly for me and remarks, “[y/n], you know that I don’t like to be called president… but that’s my champion. As expected of you to remain undefeated.” We’re both grinning from ear to ear as we intertwine our fingers. His face suddenly drops as he looks down and lifts our hands off the bed. “Why is it… slightly damp here…?”

Shit. I quickly retract my hand in a panic. My face heats up more. “Um… um you know how miserable I was b-before? Yea, yea, I was… laying here, sobbing like a baby f-from how much I was missing… you…” Gladion stares at me in confusion, retorting, “but… you were sitting right here, and… wouldn’t your head have been on the pillow…?” More panic. My eyes constantly dart between his face and my knees as I ball my hands upon my legs. I can’t think of any other explanation…

“You… you know as teenagers, w-we start feeling particular emotions w-we didn’t feel as kids? Y-you know, puberty and hormones and s-s-stuff…” I stutter uncontrollably. It clicks in his mind almost immediately, evident as his eyes widen and the red in his face deepens. We both look away, equally as embarrassed. God just kill me already. I avoid eye contact with him as we sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, I stand up and start making my way to the door. “It was really stupid of me to have come here in the first place I’m so sor—“

Gladion grabs my wrist. I look back, slightly teared up with shame. He has a serious look in his eyes, staring deeply into mine but still blushing furiously. “Are… those feelings still there…?” His rasp voice huffs. My face couldn’t be any hotter. He couldn’t look any hotter. Fuck. I only slightly nod in response. His voice hitches, “d-do… do you want… me… to relieve those feelings for you…?” My face gets hotter. We stand there for another moment in silence. I nibble my lower lip and nod again.

He pulls me slowly onto his lap as we both sit on the bed again. His hot breath tickles my skin as I look down into his emerald orbs. “You… aren’t the only one who’s been feeling these sorts of feelings, you know…” He caresses my face with one hand and grabs my ass with the other, “I also touch myself when I can’t get you out of my head.” My mouth slightly waters and my heart starts to race tenfold. “And now that we’re together for the first time in ages, I feel like this is the only chance I can have you all to myself.” The fiery sensation overwhelms my whole body again, and I purr, “I’m all yours, President.”

Our mouths latch upon each other, where neither of us hold back any of the hunger that’s been stirring up from the past few months. Our tongues claim every inch of each other’s caverns while our hands slither tenderly yet clamber desperately along each other’s forms. My straddling core shifts rhythmically upon his hardening member, making him grunt and making me moan, soon pulling away to gasp for air. Our hot breaths mix as a thin string of saliva drips on his chin. One of my hands is tangled in his bangs, while the other is raked in his scalp. Our chests heave heavily, foreheads touching. My vision is hazy but I’m still entranced with his orbs.

I sit up to lay on the bed upon my back, dragging him down with me. My hands fall back on both sides of my head, and my legs lay flat with my knees tight together. His aroused expression becomes more nervous and embarrassed, but still huffing with hunger. He hastily slips his shoes off, then pins his hands by my head, legs apart while kneeling with my legs between them. A different kind of tension overcomes the room.

“Um… this… is my first time,” Gladion mumbles, eyes slightly shaky. I bite my lower lip, stammering, “m-me too. I t-trust you with all my heart though. Just… be gentle…” His throat swallows with a big gulp. Slouched over me, he slowly tugs the straps of my top down over my shoulders, revealing my bra. I almost bring my hands inward to cover myself, suddenly feeling ten times more self-conscious. He slightly retracts his hands, also self-conscious about what he’s doing. Fuck my heart is beating like crazy! I take in a deep breath before I awkwardly reach behind me with both of my hands to unlatch my bra strap. His hands lower again to slowly shift the bra up to reveal my bare breasts. I swear, our faces couldn’t be any redder at this point. His hands cramp up, and we freeze for another moment. My breath hitches to break the silence, murmuring, “y-you can do a-a-anything to them…”

Gladion takes in another big gulp, and leans down slowly. His clammy hand hovers over one breast for a moment, then grabs it as gently as possible. A small squeal escapes my lips, making us both jolt in place. I suddenly stutter, “It’s ok! They’re really sensitive, b-but you can keep going.” He briefly sucks in his lips and nods, before proceeding to massage it. Oh my god this feels completely different from when I touch myself holy shit! I attempt to muffle my audible delight as he plays with it more, fascinated by its soft touch. He soon grazes a thumb over my stiff peak, making me release another squeal. With curiosity in his gaze, he starts fondling it, and his other hand grabs my other breast with more enthusiasm. My hips squirm more, as I fail to repress a gasp. My skin is tingling from his hot breath, burning as his eyes examine my hard buds as his fingers fondle them more roughly.

He finally takes it into his mouth, sending a whole new, electrifying sensation throughout my body. FUCK! He sucks it rhythmically, picking up the pacing with his other hand. My whole body is a squirming mess, and I stop trying to hold my moans in. My hand holds the back of his head as he licks my bud frantically. “Yes, yes! That’s it! G-Gladion!!” I gasp with delight. He quickly switches to my other breast to eat it up like there’s no tomorrow, other hand crazily playing with the freshly sucked breast. I’m practically hyperventilating, as my grip tightens in his scalp. In between licks and sucks, he sloppily growls, “I fucking love how you say my name!”

Without a warning, my lower back arches violently as my essence leaks from my shorts. Gladion pulls away, as I quiver and pant uncontrollably, my vision hazy again. “I… I… I j-just came,” I whimper, “b-but… I want you… inside of me.” He’s speechless, now less red with a new sense of confidence written in his face, but still nervous as hell. I push myself up to remove my top and bra, as he sits there, still in a daze. “But first,” I mutter, tugging his shirt as I eat him with my eyes, “I also want to see you… undressed…”

Gladion’s face suddenly drains, looking down to the floor for a moment. “Uh… okay… j-just for you… but just so you know,” he looks back at me hesitantly, “my body isn’t a-anything impres—“ “I don’t care about how you look!” I retort, grabbing his shoulders with reassurance. “I love you, no matter how vulnerable you may feel. No one is perfect. As I said, I trust you with all my heart. I… just hope you return those feelings…” He cups my face to kiss my forehead, then mutters, “O-of course I do… I’m… just nervous…”

Trying not to hesitate, he slowly pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor, revealing his lean form. I stare in awe. I know that he’s a bit self-conscious about how pale he is… but he’s brave for doing this… He looks into my eyes again, mumbling, “now that I’ve seen your breasts, you… probably want to see my… dick… right?” I nod almost way too enthusiastically, feeling my face flush and my heart racing again. “J-just to see and… maybe t-touch… I can s-s-suck it another time…” I stammer, hands tightening into fists on my knees.

His eyes widen, and an unexpectedly huge smile spreads upon his face as he suddenly pulls me into a tight hug. “Fuck! Stop being so cute my heart can’t take it!” My whole body goes limp as I watch him swing his legs off the bed to unfasten his pants. Pulling them off, only in his underwear now, it was now visibly obvious how hard he is. I quickly cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fuck” is all I mutter. I’m already hard again. With hunger in his eyes, he remarks, “make it quick so I can get inside of you.” Before I can even process how hot he sounded, he finally pulls off his underwear, his member springing out with a slight bounce, with a few droplets of pre-cum dripping from its head.

Now I’m the once who’s fascinated. Although I can’t see Gladion’s face as I take a closer look at it, I can sense him burning up from this sudden exposure. He reaches over to the dresser next to the bed as I stroke it, making him shudder. I snap out of my entrancement when I hear him tearing a packet open. The serious fire from earlier is in his eyes again as he stammers, “y-you can’t play with it today, but you can put this on f-for me.” I can only gawk as he hands the condom to me and stands his boner upwards. Not at what he’s holding, but just over the situation we’re about to get into…

I take a deep gulp as I place the condom on top and roll it on. I lay on the bed again, nodding to invite him to remove my shorts for me, which he does with ease. He desperately removes my soaked underwear and spreads my legs open, briefly examining my lips as I part them with my fingers. I gasp, unable to hold back my excitement. No more foreplay — I want to feel you inside me right now. He positions his member and slowly sinks it into my entrance. We both moan loudly, then he mutters, “fuck it’s so tight and hot! I’m already so close!” I pant heavily, “me too…” I intertwine my fingers with his on both sides of my head, “you… can start slow… then pick up the pace when you can’t hold it in anymore.”

Gladion nods and starts to thrust very slowly. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open while the fire in my core consumes me, but now I can truly see how his eyelashes flicker shut, his lips parted while huskily breathing, sweating but flushing with passion — my fantasies of him pale in comparison to his actual aroused expression. As he huffs heavily, I moan melodically, “holy shit you feel so good!” The pace of his thrusting gradually picks up, increasing the volume of my moans, and our clammy hands grip even tighter. “I love you so fucking much, [y/n]!” He growls into my ear, sending sensations from my face to my bucking groin. “Keep saying my name, I fucking love it!!” I gasp monstrously, wrapping my legs around his hips as the other end of his cock frantically rams into my ass. The euphoric ecstasy reaches its highest peak as he slams into me for the last time, making us scream each other’s names almost simultaneously. I feel it spasm inside me as he almost collapses upon me. We gasp loudly for air, my eyes scrunched with only stars in my vision. Holy… shit…

After Gladion collects his breath, he slowly pulls out and turns us both over to lay on our sides. The bed is soaked in sweat, and our lower areas are drenched with my essence, but neither of us care. He stares at me dreamily and whispers with a smirk, “well… did I relieve your feelings…?” I sloppily link my arm with his and giggle, ��no shit you did hehe… you being here was enough but you really brought it all… must be a new tactic you came up with.” He chuckles and brushes stray hairs from my sweaty face, seemingly satisfied with his work.

Other than the sexual tension we had, it seems like neither of us can take the actual heat anymore as we roll on our backs away from each other, laughing. We lay in silence for yet another moment, when I’m struck with another dumb idea. “What if… we stayed here for the night…?” I suggest, turning my head to look back at Gladion. He pouts as he thinks about it, then turns his head to me and says, “fuck it why not? Who’s gonna stop the most powerful people of Alola?” We laugh again.

Eventually, we both get up clumsily to clean ourselves off in the bathroom. We then decided to hang out until evening, and have our first sleep together without a care in the world. We can deal with the mess we made in the morning anyway…

As the bottom right text says, Forgive my horny ass idk whether to be proud (of these drawings) or ashamed (fucking a fictional character)

#gladion #pokemon sun and moon #gladion x reader #gladion headcanons #smut #my text #buronzuwyngzu doots

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video-game-kids-tournament · 5 months

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MEET YOUR CONTESTANTS!

Yakuza spoilers under the cut! Along with a TW for child endangerment!

Name: Haruka Sawamura

Age: “Like 6 in the first game, eventually becomes a teenager”

• "8-16”

• "9 at debut”

Gender + Pronouns: Female, she/her

Video Game: Yakuza

Victims: Razputin Aquato (Psychonauts)

Backstory: “Little girl eventually adopted by her mom’s foster brother. Repeatedly kidnapped. Tries to make her own way in the world.”

• "Orphaned, found in the middle of a bloodbath by a former yakuza and raised by him at his orphanage. Actually helps him run it and raise the other kids. Went on to compete in a pop idol competition show.”

• "Adopted daughter of the main character Kazuma Kiryu! She's originally searching for her missing mother, who is Kiryu's childhood friend. She's adopted by him at the end of the first game, and continues to grow up as the series goes on--By the time of the 6th game, she's 19 or 20 and has a child of her own.”

• “Hunted by several yakuza groups and is protected by her foster uncle and later opens an orphanage with him”

• “She is born in the year 1995 and is raised in an orphanage called Sunflower. As part of the events of Yakuza 1 she meets the protagonist, Kiryu Kazuma, who quickly becomes a father figure to her as he helps her search for her missing mother, who is the sister of Kiryu’s first love, Yumi. At the end of the game it is revealed that the missing mother IS Yumi herself, and she is reunited with Kiryu and Haruka, but unfortunately Yumi dies shortly after. Kiryu takes on the responsibility of raising Haruka, having formed a bond with her, and is a devoted (if flawed) father to her from there on out. They move together to Okinawa where Kiryu runs an orphanage until he decides to go into hiding for the safety of the children (he is an ex-Yakuza). By the events of Yakuza 5 Haruka is living on her own, pursuing a dream of being a JPop idol and hiding her past Yakuza connections. During this time she learns to dance and sing from a team of coaches led by a ruthless instructor, an ex-idol named Mirei Park. During this time you can play as Haruka and engage in Dance Battles for the purpose of defeating opponents. At the end of this game, while onstage at her debut concert in Tokyo, she publicly declares her love and admiration for her father, known ex-Yakuza chairman Kiryu Kazuma.”

• "Haruka grew up in an orphanage after her mother, Yuki, disappeared, and her father was a deadbeat. Her only remaining family relation was her aunt, Mizuki, who visited from time to time but couldn't care for her full time. After a series of events causes ten billion yen to disappear from the coffers of the Tojo clan, the biggest Yakuza clan in Tokyo, with her aunt as one of the prime suspects, Haruka was embroiled in the middle of a criminal civil war. We first meet Haruka, scared little 9-year-old Haruka, huddled in the corner of a bar, holding a gun. Our protagonist, Kazuma Kiryu (usually referred to by his surname, Kiryu), was on the trail of the ten million yen when he discovered her there. Every other person in the bar lies dead in a gruesome tableau. Over the course of the game, we learn that Mizuki, her aunt, was actually Yuki, her mother, all along - she'd sent Haruka to an orphanage run by the crime family for her protection. A lot of drama unfolds, and at the end of it all, she has nobody left on her side - nobody but Kiryu, who adopts her and raises her as his own daughter.”

• “Orphaned at a young age, Haruka runs away from Sunflower Orphanage to look for her Aunt Yumi to find her mother. She ends up in the center of a 10-billion-yen power struggle among the largest and most powerful yakuza organization in the Kanto region of Japan.”

• "goes to find her mother in kamurocho at age 9, kiryu finds her and end up helping her find her mom who ends up dying, kiryu then basically becomes haruka's father figure, some yakuza stuff happens and eventually kiryu gets an orphanage and haruka helps out with some of the other kids, then more yakuza stuff happens and haruka becomes an idol for a bit but cant talk about her father figure bc hes the infamous Dragon of Dojima which nobody is having a fun time about”

• “She's trying to find her mum”

Why should they win the tournament?: “Amazing talented little girl deserves better. Sweet but hard as nails. Parentified extreme. Sawamura Haruka queen of our heart.”

• "She's the most resilient and wonderful child. Unrelenting positivity and hope in the face of horrible circumstances.”

• "Inherits both the best and worst parts of her father's personality in a way I find really compelling”

• “She deserves everything”

• "Haruka grew up unfortunately surrounded by violence- in her first appearance at age 10 she is cowering under a bar holding a pistol. Later in this game she survives being shot and basically brushes it off. In Yakuza 5 she battles on her own, and in Yakuza 6 she’s hit by a car and survives that too. She has mental toughness in spades and faces off with the gangster who burns down her family’s orphanage in Yakuza 3. This girl is made of steel. Despite all the struggle, she grows up into a remarkably caring and empathetic person who would give anything, including her life, for the people she loves. I think she would be incredibly difficult to take down in a fight.”

• “Over the rest of the series, up through Yakuza 5, we watch as Haruka grows and matures. We even get to play as her for a significant portion of Y5 as she chases her dreams of becoming an idol singer. In between the incidents covered by the games, her adoptive father starts an orphanage of his own; as the oldest of several kids, we see Haruka develop into a responsible, good-hearted older sister to everyone. She spends a significant amount of time in the first three games getting dragged into whatever the latest problems her father has to deal with, getting kidnapped or exposed to violence, but after being mostly absent from Yakuza 4, she finally gets to take center stage and assert her agency in Yakuza 5 (upon which she immediately becomes the center of a murderous plot to take down the Tojo clan yet again). (I'm leaving Yakuza 6 out of this as she had aged into adulthood by that point, but uh, that game also doesn't treat her great. Sega consistently does Haruka dirty and it makes me sad)”

• “She has suffered more than Jesus and is the bravest kid to ever exist. She is so kind and strong and is my daughter and I love her dearly.”

• “she has gone through so much already”

• “She become a popstar later, which is pretty pog”

#video game kids tournament #contestant info #haruka sawamura #sawamura haruka #yakuza #like a dragon #yakuza spoilers

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rai-knightshade-art · 2 years

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"I got my ticket for the long 'way round, the one with the prettiest of views; it's got mountains, it's got rivers, it's got sights to give you shivers, but it sure would be prettier with you..."

This oc has been living rent free in my head for weeks now and I'm about to make that everybody's problem! More about her, the concept that spawned her, close ups, and more below the cut; image id in the alt text!

(Also, for the record: they're girlfriends your honor 🥰.)

The Concept: alright I'm not gonna actually copy-paste the entire concept i have for this story here because it's long, so y'all are getting the quick and dirty tl;dr version from the get go. You're welcome. Tl;Dr: Pitch Perfect 4 but it's a next gen movie focusing on Bella (Stacie's daughter) as a senior at Barden and her adventures co-leading the Bellas and Treblemakers because the college has had some budget cuts and decided they didn't need four acapella teams and smushed the two rival groups together. Shenanigans ensue. Also there's a co-protagonist, Molly, an incoming freshman who's excited to join the Bellas because shock! Amazement! Not at all predictably, she's a Legacy just like Bella! (And unlike the rest of the teams actually they're all new except for one of the Treblemakers who's Donald the Rapper's son.) In fact, not only is she a Bella Legacy, she's technically a Treblemaker Legacy through her dad; her arc centers on the mystery of who could possibly be her parents among the original/second gen Bellas and Treblemakers?? (Admittedly it's not so much a mystery as it is a fakeout cause the clues dropped are just ambiguous enough to cause confusion on whether she's Emily's daughter--presumably with Benji based on the love of Star Wars--but close with Beca and/or Jesse as an aunt and uncle, or if she's Beca and Jesse's daughter who spent time with Uncle Benji and/or Aunt Emily. The answer is the latter btw the girl loves juice pouches way too much to be anything else but a Swanson.) The answer is revealed at the very end after the Bellas and Treblemakers have finally learned to work together and have won Nationals. We finally get the cameos from the original stars as they come to congratulate the new kids, including Stacie (who's very very proud of her daughter going out with a win!) and, of course, an absolutely ecstatic Jesse with a pair of twin boys in tow, followed shortly (after a brief but forceful phonecall with an assistant over a run-over flashdrive of music) by Beca.

The Characters: I say characters cause while it's mostly miss Molly taking up this page, there are a couple secondary characters that can be mentioned here too.

Molly (Swanson, tho that wouldn't be revealed at first): one of our two main characters, she's a 19-year-old freshman at Barden going into Music Education (she's always wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps into music but she's not particularly keen on being a celebrity like they are; she'd rather nurture a love of music through teaching, like her parents did for her). She's a veritable ball of sunshine with a love of juice pouches and Star Wars, has a near-encyclopedic knowledge of every single John Hughes movie (though Ferris Bueller's Day Off is her personal favorite rather than the Breakfast Club, something that she and her father have weekly play-fights over), a very sarcastic and dry sense of humor, and a love of mashups and remixing (and also checkered or plaid-patterned flannels); she is truly a mix of both her parents. She's also super excited to be a Bella! She doesn't mention she's Legacy to anyone but Bella (who she meets at the club fair and immediately clicks with) because she wants to get in on her own merits (rather than by being THE Beca Effing Mitchell's daughter), though that little tidbit of information quickly becomes impossible to hide when the first group activity they perform is to harmonize When I'm Gone and Molly's fully moved to tears. 🥺 Also of note, Molly is a Mezzo, a bit higher than her mother's Alto.

Bella Conrad: our other main character (and likely the one we would see first), this is none other than the same baby Bella from PP3! She's all grown up now at 22 and finishing up her senior year at Barden, and currently the only Legacy Bella (until Molly comes along of course) as well as a co-captain of the group along with a couple other seniors. She's much more reserved compared to her outgoing mother or the energetic Molly, but she's sweet in her own way and always eager to lend a helping hand or guide a new Bella into the group. She's a math major, intending to get a job teaching high school level math (something she and Molly bond over quickly). She is a Soprano.

Julian (Donald's son): a secondary character, he's the leader of the Treblemakers and a close friend of Bella's. He makes up the third leg of the little Legacy Trio and happily welcomes Molly into the group, subtly encouraging Bella to make a move on her quickly growing crush on the other girl as well as working as a voice of reason among the turbulent Treble-Bella combined team. He's very level-headed and holds rank as the best beatboxer on the team. Besides being a beatboxer, he is also a Baritone.

The Close Ups:

#pitch perfect #next gen oc #jeca #beca x jesse #jesse x beca #yeah the whole concept behind this is that you wouldnt know the ships until the end but i dont wanna die today sooo #we're just gonna lead with the ships #not like it wasnt obvious with her... everything. but. just in case.#myposts #myart #rare pair #also for the record molly ends up shipped with bella #havent decided if theyre lesbians or some other form of wlw but. yeah. gay. girlfriends.#im thinkin they go to atlanta pride together. maybe even with molly's parents (cause theyve been going to pride for years)#(cynthia rose first brought them but theyve been going independently to LA pride since before Molly was born)#(im a bi4pan Jeca truther if that wasnt clear)#oc: molly swanson #pitch perfect rare pair week #this is a bonus post cause i dont have anything for today's prompt unfortunately #so. have a Molly!#and a Bella!

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narrativestringtheory · 2 years

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On Screen: The Quiet Latin Excellence of The Mandalorian

by James Aponte

[ed. note: this article discusses plotlines from seasons 1 and 2 of The Mandalorian, which streamed on Disney+ in 2019 and 2020.]

In the winter of 2015, as we left the movie theater, my sister and I were deep in the midst of an in-depth analysis, not unusual for the two of us. We had just left Star Wars: The Force Awakens (dir. JJ Abrams, 2015), which she had seen for the first time (the second or third for me). As our discussion progressed, I mentioned it was nice to see a Latinx character, Poe Dameron [played by Oscar Isaac], in a major Hollywood franchise where he was not the villain, a criminal, or cannon fodder to save the heroes. My sister nodded and said, “Yeah but…” I pressed her. “But what?” She sighed and said something I have never forgotten since: “When I first saw him onscreen, I thought he was going to be the protagonist.”

It is no secret Star Wars has been problematic at best with its Latinx representation. The Original Trilogy had no Latinx actors to speak of. Things got a little better in the Prequel Trilogy, where Jimmy Smits played Bail Organa, friend and confidant of Padmé Amidala, Republic Senator, and Leia Organa’s adoptive father. There was also actress Verónica Segura who played Padmé’s handmaiden Cordé in Attack of the Clones. Both characters are disposed unceremoniously in fiery explosions: Cordé dies during an assassination attempt at the beginning of Attack of the Clones, while Bail, along with the rest of the planet Alderaan, is destroyed by the Death Star in A New Hope.

The Sequel Trilogy offered a glimmer of hope. Oscar Isaac’s exciting newcomer Poe Dameron certainly made an impression with his first appearance in The Force Awakens, as he sassed baddie Kylo Ren and made a daring escape with turncoat stormtrooper Finn [played by John Boyega]. For a brief and all too fleeting moment, as my sister noted, it seemed as if this was going to be a Star Wars trilogy for the modern era: a Latinx man as the lead with a Black man and woman [Daisy Ridley’s Rey] as companions of equal stature on the next great galactic adventure.

Alas, Isaac’s Dameron disappeared not even a third into the movie, seemingly dead.

And with him went the hope of a great Latinx leading role for Star Wars. Lupita Nyong'o, who also appears in Awakens, is in a small supporting [Maz Kanata] role motion-captured and otherwise unrecognizable. Diego Luna gives a hell of an effort as Cassian Andor only to be rewarded with – you guessed it – death by fiery explosion in Rogue One (dir. Gareth Edwards, 2016). You could argue Freddie Prinze Jr. was the co-lead of the animated Star Wars: Rebels but it’s really the young Ezra Bridger’s story that takes the greatest importance over the course of the series. Not to mention Prinze’s character Kanan Jarrus meets his demise in the show’s final episode, albeit heroically, with none other than… a fiery explosion. The great Benicio Del Toro appears in The Last Jedi (dir. Rian Johnson, 2017) as DJ only toward the last act, and the results are disappointing to say the least. He betrays the heroes for large sums of cash and leaves them for dead. Del Toro is a Space Bandito through and through: untrustworthy, greedy, and a scoundrel. (No fiery explosion though – he leaves before then. Presumably.) Strangely it seemed there was no Latinx character Star Wars couldn’t cast into the flames, along with Latinx fans’ hopes and dreams for a character that simply wasn’t a villain, background character, or a sacrifice to show how high the stakes were for the “real” heroes.

That is, until The Mandalorian made its debut.

When the show was announced, there was excitement that Pedro Pascal, the standout Prince Oberyn Martell on Game of Thrones, was cast as the show’s lead. Indeed, this was a landmark moment for Star Wars in terms of Latinx representation. Shortly afterwards however, doubts set in. Would we ever see his face? How great of a character could he be if he’s merely a cosplay version of Boba Fett? Worse yet: would he be utterly forgettable?

Fortunately, from the debut hour of The Mandalorian, these doubts proved unnecessary. The show quickly showed that Mando (whose name was revealed to be Din Djarin) was not a superhuman bounty hunter, despite his actions in the show’s opening bar fight. He’s overpowered by creatures known as Blurrg as soon as he lands on the planet where his bounty is located. He needs the help of assassin droid IG-11 [voiced by Taika Waititi] to storm the fortress of baddies that hold his bounty within (and can’t afford to take a blaster bolt to his non-beskar armor in the process). Not only that, Pascal injected humanity and personality in the titular hero with subtlety and nuance. Mando treats the local Ugnaught Kuiil [played by Nick Nolte] with respect and dignity, even offering to share some of the bounty reward with him as a show of gratitude in exchange for information on his bounty’s whereabouts. Despite his prejudice toward droids, Mando shows genuine concern for IG-11’s well-being during their skirmish against the mercenaries. And of course, at the episode’s end he saves the life of a small child [revealed to be named Grogu], extending his finger toward the infant to calm and reassure him.

As the first season progressed, the character Din Djarin became endued with Latinx characteristics. This is almost entirely the work of Pascal, who drew upon his own experiences as a Chilean refugee to further Din’s character. We see Din Djarin as a provider to his adoptive family of fellow Mandalorians. He takes on bounties to support them financially and return cherished artifacts, like beskar, to rekindle their connection to a past culture that’s been erased by Imperial conquerors. Family, it seems above all else, is the most cherished pillar not only of Mandalorian society, but also to Din Djarin himself. Credit showrunner Jon Favreau for taking a cue from the Fast and Furious playbook. While unlikely companions, both series explore this concept of “found family” and feature protagonists motivated by love for their newfound kin. Both feature a coalition of diverse talent in front of and behind the camera. And perhaps more pointedly, the themes of the Fast and Furious franchise are immensely popular with not only general audiences, but Latinx audiences in particular. (Note that Fast and Furious still has serious missteps regarding its female characters, something Mandalorian creator Jon Favreau and company have avoided so far.) It is no surprise then that The Mandalorian garnered an immediate and passionate Latinx following on social media. Family is a core staple of Latinx communities and cultures, and one’s self-worth is often tied to providing for family. It is no wonder why so many identified with Din Djarin at the show’s beginning. Here was a man who simply wanted to provide, to give back, to those who raised and nourished him and was struggling mightily to do so. It’s an experience all too common for anyone in a Latinx household.

Another reason why Mandalorian is so appealing to Latinx audiences is pure catharsis. Instead of a Latinx character meeting their end in a fiery explosion – what we’ve come to expect for Star Wars – this Latinx character causes them. Once Din acquires his shiny indestructible beskar armor, he’s quick to dish out punishment to Imperial Stormtroopers & Officers – colonizers of his family’s homeworld of Mandalore. For one of the few times in a massive Hollywood franchise, audiences were given a Latinx hero who, instead of being subjugated to punishment (like Poe Dameron), dealt punishment onto to his people’s conquerors. It is a sight Latinx audiences have yearned to see and experience, particularly with their nonexistence in the realm of superhero films that have dominated the box-office for the past ten years. Though more than likely unintended by creator Jon Favreau and executive producer Dave Filoni, Din Djarin has become a Latinx superhero in his own right. He is someone Latinx people can see themselves in, project onto. After all it could be anyone under the helmet that’s fighting back against Space Fascists or saving pointy-eared green children.

When it did come time to see what was under the helmet in Mandalorian’s season one finale, it created another seemingly inauspicious yet incredibly vital moment for Latinx audiences. Wounded in battle, Din Djarin must have his helmet removed by bounty-hunter-turned-nurse-droid IG-11 in order to save his life. Prior, Din had repeatedly refused to remove his helmet under any circumstance, as a principle of honor and dignity for his Mandalorian clan. This echoes any Latinx person who’s had to struggle with a relative that’s too proud or too stubborn to go to the doctor, hear advice, or simply accept their limitations. It is here Din makes the greatest leap in character development. Realizing how a toxic element of his own culture is literally killing him and not allowing him to be with his own newfound family, he allows IG-11 to remove his helmet. And when the helmet is lifted away, we see something remarkable.

We see… us. No CGI. No heavy makeup, no unrecognizable face. Just the face of a Latin man. Battered and bruised no doubt. But it’s… us. At last, we see ourselves in Star Wars. Not as a villain or dastardly criminal. Not as cannon fodder. As the vulnerable hero, a compassionate leading man—as a human being.

It is impossible to state how seminal this moment is for Latinx representation moving forward in Star Wars. Look no further than The Mandalorian’s second season. John Leguizamo lent his talents to the premiere episode as a sleazy mobster type, Gor Koresh, which was incredibly fun to watch. More significantly, Rosario Dawson brought to life one of the most celebrated characters from the animated show The Clone Wars: Ahsoka Tano.

The importance of Dawson’s introduction as Ahsoka is twofold. For starters, it proves what Latinx performers had been highly aware of for some time: Latinx actors can be trusted with (and excel portraying) incredibly popular and important characters in major Hollywood franchises. Secondly, Dawson’s performance is a complete rebuke of another unfortunate stereotype which Latinx audiences have grown accustomed to seeing outside of Star Wars – the “Spicy Latina.” To put it simply, the Spicy Latina is the trope within which a Latin woman (always a woman) is the object of a male character’s desire characterized by a bombastic and confrontational personality, who has no qualms about becoming outwardly violent and aggressive. Think Sofía Vergara’s character Gloria in Modern Family, which aired from 2009-20, or perhaps most ironically, Rosario Dawson’s Gail in Sin City (dir. Frank Miller & Robert Rodriquez, 2005).

Dawson’s performance as Ahsoka Tano demonstrates none of these qualities. She is measured, thoughtful, and calm, most of all when she’s in combat with her and Din Djarin’s enemies. Not only does Ahsoka not display anger or frustration, the show does never implies that she is the object of anyone’s sexual desire, including Din’s. In fact, Din regards Ahsoka as a character of great power and agency, believing she is the one who can train his adoptive son in the ways of the Force. Though Ahsoka ascertains she cannot help the child (though she does tell us his name, Grogu) she tells Din where to take the child next and, perhaps for the first time, puts into words how much Grogu and Din Djarin actually care for one another. It’s a performance marked by subtleties and nuance, not unlike Pedro Pascal as the titular protagonist. So it is no wonder Dawson’s performance was rewarded when it was announced Dawson’s character would be headlining her own Star Wars series on Disney+, appropriately titled Ahsoka.

The Mandalorian’s Latinx representation continued behind the camera as well, with action maestro Robert Rodriguez helming one of the greatest watershed moments in the history of the franchise in “The Tragedy.” Before that moment is realized though, Rodriguez does something that is particularly interesting. Throughout the series, Din Djarin is often filmed from an angle in which he is larger than life, no doubt a tribute to the classic Western films that inspired the series. What Rodriguez does from the first shot of Din in his episode however, is completely the opposite: framing The Mandalorian like he’s a dad.

In opening moments of “The Tragedy” the camera is always eye-level with Din as he speaks with Grogu, an angle that suggests someone who is no more powerful than us at home – a father. As their interaction continues, the slight quiver Din’s voice reveals the depths to which he loves his son. It is here that Rodriguez allows for a critical moment for Latinx audiences. The same eye-level camera angle still on him, Din admits he doesn’t have the skills to train a young Grogu, and that he must go with any Jedi who might come and find him. This is a pretty stunning repudiation of a toxic attitude that is prevalent among men in Latinx culture. Rather than a macho man who cannot ever admit to being wrong or that they don’t know everything, here is a Latinx man who’s not afraid to be open with his feelings and anxieties about himself and the future with his adopted son – even if Grogu can’t directly communicate with him. In “The Tragedy” Din Djarin is framed as an ordinary man, a father who is obligated to do what’s best for his son no matter the circumstance.

Despite all his literal armor, Rodriguez portrays Din as vulnerable emotionally. This is prominently shown with the return of the iconic Boba Fett [played by Temuera Morrison] near the episode’s beginning. Fett exploits Din’s love of Grogu immediately upon their first interaction, warning him that his partner Fennec Shand [played by Ming-na Wen] has the little child in her crosshairs. Whereas a Latin leading character with more toxic masculine traits might have dared to call Fett’s bluff, Din knows he can’t risk any possibility of harm to Grogu and accepts Fett’s terms to lay down his arms. It is here where Rodriguez subverts the series’ entire cinematic language. It is Boba Fett, not Din Djarin, who is presented as the biggest, baddest bounty hunter in the galaxy. And it is Fett that does the most damage in the episode – destroying an entire battalion of Stormtroopers singlehandedly. Rather than be upset that he’s been “upstaged” or “disrespected” by another Mandalorian, Din forms an alliance with Fett and Shand by the episode’s conclusion. It is in this moment that Rodriguez flips the framing of Din to be equal with that of Fett’s – and in the process shows Latinx audiences it is not a weakness to recognize and ally with those who are better than you (often the staple of machismo toxic masculinity) but rather a strength. Indeed, such an acknowledgment would make us better people, just as it made Din a better character.

Perhaps the growth of Din Djarin’s character is the most important development of all in The Mandalorian’s second season. He became more complex, more nuanced. His actions crucially showed audiences, particularly Latinx audiences, that Latin men can not only kick ass and take names, but can have real emotions and affection for those they care about without compromising any form of perceived “masculinity.” Din Djarin willingly removing his helmet at multiple points in the second season, including the finale, signifies that he’s a better person for openly displaying love and shedding toxic elements of his own culture. This lesson is vital for a culture that continues to have its own internal struggles with machismo toxic masculinity and sexist views of how men and women should behave. Din Djarin has, strangely enough, become a positive Latinx role model in Hollywood media. And that’s truly incredible.

This is a milestone, along with Mandalorian’s other Latinx accomplishments, that has not been loudly celebrated. Not yet. Though it certainly needs to be. For now it is a quiet triumph, like so many accomplishments by Latinx people. Quiet, but no less dynamic.

Just like Din Djarin himself.

#The Mandalorian (tv series)#television #On Screen #James Aponte

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discoerot1ca · 1 year

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I tell you to meet me at the airport. I get a flight that lands before yours will so I can meet you there. it’s a little complicated but I find you, and you use my second charlie card and we get on the train. we hold hands. you’re not used to the transport system here, but this was why god gave me a second card anyway and it’s named after the protagonist of your favorite book (doesn’t it all just make sense?) I keep my arm around you and tease that shouldn’t portland have prepared you for this and you push me, laugh. we check in and drop our bags in the room. it’s only one bed and we hug, my hands in your hair, so grateful that we can do this again, that we are together after so many years. I tell you how I’m worried I might just be a crutch for right now. you tell me I’m not. I tell you it’s okay if I am.

we grab something to eat on the street as we head out to the show. it’s amazing. you look so fantastic, face lit up, silver-eyed, as he sings. we cry together at one point, the whole crowd too overwhelmed by this poet. I’m so glad I found you I’m so glad I found him I’m so glad we are here. you are clinging to me like this won’t have an end.

and after the show we go out and drink and flop down together on the bed later, dizzy and affectionate, and we don’t have sex. we hold each other and fall asleep. in the morning I wake up to sunshine and curls, warm kisses, your call for coffee. I know where to take you for it. I take you around the city, along the river, by where I lived and where she lived. I tell you my stories and you tell me yours.

(- there is a shrinking piece of me from sixteen that stays confused, about why we wouldn’t eventually end back up together through some trick of fate. she tells me so many stories of how it could happen. I take her face and tell her every time that we will never see you again, not in this life.)

by the time you read this he will have returned after a week’s worth of being strange and distant. the boy i thought id never see again, and i can feel the tug on my sleeve of the girl from august. her hair is tucked into a different headband, she is running running running to catch the train and then the bus, three modes of transportation one after the other, just to meet the figure in the dark, at the beach.

but that poem i wrote, it wasn’t about L, it was about M. so it turns out that M was the one to meet me that night under the stars, he admitted to falling in love with me that night, but i didn’t know it was him, so i said the poem was for L. because L was the first. i love your poems but why can’t you say it out loud. i want you to say it out loud. L isn’t listening. i was so sure that i’d added good looking by suki waterhouse to the playlist for L but i searched and it wasn’t there, so i added it today. most of the time i don’t believe when people compliment me. but i do that anyhow. i notice his beautiful beautiful eyes, gray from one angle and blue or green from another, with a touch of brown in the center. i wrap his arms around me and ask to feel his muscle. that’s what the girls in books do. i tell him that they’ll be swarming him, how lucky i am to have a boyfriend so handsome, so strong.

he wasn’t wearing the ring last time because it wasn’t his. it wasn’t, i gave the ring to M. M still knows me as his wife, at least in a metaphorical sense. earlier this week, in a fit of lovesickness, i folded up the love letter he wrote me and stuffed it in my wallet. it ripped a little bit and i had to tape it back together. if i were one of those corny poets I’d say like my heart. like my heart had to be taped back together after the first time L left. and i did the math in my head and i had not seen L for more than six months. the end of august was the gosh-just-look-at-the-sky. shortly before my previously impromptu night rendezvous with M, J had answered the phone. she was fronting that day and told me to take care of myself. we’ve texted a bit since then. of course, i love L, i’d never tell him to go away and let someone else out. but it makes me wonder sometimes if L has forgotten that he loves me too.

***

(The following is about L)

it’s the morning after. things are considerably better, i say that genuinely. working backward now, i dropped him off at his usual stop and he kissed me and told me he loves me just before. this morning he woke up in the other bed (just because his back hurts when sleeping on my mattress). we had our morning ritual. we hold each other in the morning just as we did the night before. heart to heart is actually impossible, because when you hold someone their heart is on the opposite side, but chest to chest isn’t bad either.

he almost left last night too, in the cold and the rain, and i said sit down. hold on. eat some rice. i don’t know why the stereotype is true, about asian moms and passing down to their firstborn kids their way of cut fruit and food as a love language. he did as i said. it was raining too when he got off work that evening, selling jam, and i picked him up. ironically I’d listened to “goodbye earl” that morning, and you know how that song goes with the dead boyfriends. i can’t kill my darling though. even if i ever tried. i bought the strawberry Thai chili jam; he played pretend and asked me what my name was. i said i’d forgotten. and oh, what they say in love songs is true. it takes mere moments to fall in love with someone all over again.

#i know damn well who this is about too #love letters

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glenngaylord · 2 years

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A Torch Of Class - Film Review: Triangle Of Sadness ★★★★

With such features as, Force Majeure and Cannes Film Festival Palme d’Or winning The Square, Swedish filmmaker Ruben Östlund has established himself as an expert satirist with a clean, measured approach to shooting a scene. His style feels reminiscent of Stanley Kubrick at his most diabolical with concise framing, long takes, and a cold, removed point of view. His latest, Triangle Of Sadness, which also took the top prize at Cannes, continues in this vein, albeit with a heavier hand yet no less entertaining. His interest this time out explores the natural instincts of the haves vs. the have-nots, positing that given the chance, we’re all capable of truly hideous behavior.

Told in three stylistically distinct chapters, the story begins with our main protagonist, Carl (Harris Dickinson of Beach Rats and Where The Crawdads Sing), a 25-year-old model who, after some success, finds himself put out to pasture by once again going to cattle call auditions and losing his prime seat at a fashion show. In its first scenes, we also learn the meaning of the title, which is surprising, hilarious, and resonates in different ways as the story progresses. Carl’s model/influencer girlfriend Yaya (Charlbi Dean, a promising actor who tragically passed away shortly before the film’s release) has a soaring career and little patience for Carl’s downward trajectory. An early and masterful sequence starts with Carl reminding Yaya that she promised to pick up the check at their expensive dinner, leading to her passive-aggressive dismissal of his request. This argument spills over into their hotel elevator, the opening and closing doors of which underscore the class divide between the pair. Östlund finds that perfect mix of anger, confusion, and manipulation at play between a couple where love plays second fiddle to whatever else defines their devolved relationship. Arguably the strongest section in navigating the complexity and minutiae of human interaction, the film segues into a more global view of our doomed species.

Next, we find ourselves on a luxury yacht, where amongst the super rich, Carl accompanies Yaya, who has used her Instagram clout to secure a free trip for the pair. We meet a gaggle of one percenters, chief among them being Dimitry (Zlatko Buric), a Russian capitalist fertilizer baron and an elderly couple who you’d never suspect have spent their lives as arms dealers. The upstairs crew consists of one Aryan beauty after another, while downstairs we find all of the people of color who do the most menial of tasks. One housekeeper in particular, Abigail (a fantastic Dolly De Leon) barely registers in this section, but keep an eye on her as she’ll find her spotlight soon enough.

Woody Harrelson plays the Marxist captain of the ship and spends quite a bit of time nursing a hangover behind closed doors before we finally get a glimpse of him halfway through the film. His clash of ideologies with Dimitry nearly hijacks the story and exposes the total lack of subtlety in the story. Luckily, we have many encounters between passengers and staff which shine a light on the impenetrable bubble the rich inhabit. Some of these moments, such as when the staff get trained on always saying yes, or when one guest insists an employee drop what she’s doing and get in the water fully clothed, nail the absurdity so perfectly. Same goes for an unimpeachably disgusting central set piece in which the boat hits rough waters, the seafood our passengers dine on has gone bad, and bodily fluids rain down on everyone. To call it a literal sh*tstorm would only describe half of it. Needless to say, this section does not lead to sunshine and roses, yet it’s beautifully shot by Östlund's mainstay cinematographer Fredrik Wenzel. It can take its place among the more memorable boating disaster sequences such as those from The Poseidon Adventure and Titanic, albeit on a much smaller scale.

Where this all goes in its final third I will leave a mystery. All I’ll say is that the story strips away everything about our characters to expose their true natures. It’s like an entire season of Survivor compressed into 45 minutes as we watch people who make chess moves on each other in order to find a higher place on the pecking order. Unfortunately this last part slows down to a crawl at times, but gets saved by De Leon’s contributions and Östlund's thesis about human nature determining outcomes more than such constructs as wealth and background privilege. The penultimate moment features a delicious ambiguity followed by a head scratcher of a final shot which will make you want to analyze with anyone within earshot. Triangle Of Sadness may feel thuddingly obvious at times and painfully slow at others, but sometimes a dark reflection of who we are can make us laugh while also churning our stomachs. I can’t wait to see what bear Östlund pokes next.

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gemslittlelibrary · 2 years

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A meandering tale about the life of an interpreter at the International Criminal Court in The Hague, Katie Kitamura's novel creates a sense of intrigue until the last page.

The book is narrated by the interpreter, whom, interestingly enough, is not given a name. The details of her life before coming to The Hague are equally sparse: She speaks English and Japanese natively, moved to the Netherlands from New York, her father died of an illness, and her mother lives in Singapore. I found this to be a very unique part of the overall narrative. Although we as readers become intimately familiar with her thoughts and feelings, she still remains more or less an anonymous figure in our minds, much like the position of court interpreter.

Interpreters at The Hague are sequestered in booths above the courtroom. The people down below, whose words and emotions they must accurately convey, know nothing about their interpreters beside a voice. Perhaps, then, the narrator sees the story as simply another aspect of her job. Personal details are unimportant, but the story must be told.

The story itself doesn't follow the writing guide I was taught in school. There's no rising action, climax, or single issue. Rather, it feels much more realistic, and reads like a series of moments and events, just like real life. It begins shortly after the interpreter has arrived in the country. She muses about her new living space(equally empty of personal possessions), and has dinner with a friend, Jana. The interpreter has a lover name Adriaan, who appears only briefly in the story, though he is a frequent topic of thought for the interpreter. He's gone to Portugal to settle a divorce with his wife, left the interpreter with his apartment, and promises to return in a week. He ends up staying for two months, with very little contact with our protagonist. Like the rest of the characters, we know a bit more of Adriaan and his life. Indeed, the interpreter notes as she leaves his apartment for good, that she has made no mark on it. Her invisibility is constant.

This invisibility only lifts, funnily enough, at the interpreter's place of work. She's good at what she does, and her colleagues recognize this. So good, in fact, that while interpreting for a defendant on trial for war crimes, she is noticed. Noticed by the defendant himself, who personally requests her services during his defense consultations. He is comforted by her. She hates this, but acquiesces nonetheless.

She also becomes a bit obsessed with a local bookseller, Anton. He's been attacked outside Jana's apartment, and she feels the need to learn why. Although implied that he was in the neighborhood due to a woman, this story is never really concluded. It does, however, show the passion the interpreter feels for any story but her own. During a meeting at a café with her boss, near the end of the novel, she becomes so distracted by Anton and his companion she begins to cry, noticeably concerning her boss.

Anton, Adriaan, and the war criminal all have their own life events. The interpreter is merely a ghost, observing before slipping away. The trial ends, Adriaan returns, and she realizes that it's time to leave The Hague. The interpreting job takes too much of a toll on her, something that is brought up multiple times. In fact, those are probably the most personal thoughts she has, wherein she is the main character.

Intimacies's ending felt unsatisfactory to me, but I believe that's the point. After all, regardless of the amount of insight she has into people's lives, an interpreter cannot know anything beyond the necessary information she is told and what she herself observes. Why would this interpretation be any different?

Final rating: 🌟🌟🌟🌟

#book review #bookboost #booklr #booklover #tw war crimes

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myheartisafish · 2 years

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DEAR AMERICA: The book series most beloved by Weird Little Girls everywhere, because the volumes came with a ribbon in them. “I am surely holding a priceless volume of historical significance,” you say to yourself, stroking the spine while sitting under the playground at recess. When you go home, you resolve to write your own Diary, but forget to keep writing in it after one entry.

What I personally remember about these books is that they were surprisingly gruesome. American Girl these are not. These girls are BEATEN DOWN. They are SUFFERING. So I thought I’d read them and compare them for overall gruesomeness.

The first volume of the series is the Diary of Remember Patience Whipple, and is written by Kathyrn Lasky, who is most well known for writing the Guardians of Ga’Hoole books. It’s a small world, I guess.

Our protagonist is nicknamed ‘Mem,’ and she shortly gives her Diary the nickname of ‘Imp,’ standing for ‘Impatience,’ as a little play on her own name, which she feels doesn’t suit her. We meet her as she is already on the Mayflower.

Mem has a best friend nicknamed Hummy, which is short for Humility. Mem tells us in a not-gay way that Hummy has a ‘dear little face.’

We also meet Will B. who is another friend of theirs, and also just an all around great guy, who’s great with kids. Too bad he’s a servant.

So everyone immediately gets sick, and the first 25% of the book is essentially descriptions of people puking and shitting and coughing blood and so on. This is all fine, because at least Mem has her two best friends, Hummy and Will B..

Even though Will B. is feeling poorly lately.

Will B. dies and his body is thrown overboard.

But at least she has Hummy! And her Mam, who’s a great person, and speaks up, even though she’s a woman.

So we end up at Plymoth, and they have about enough time to build one building before everyone gets sick again, and this part of the book is basically Mem describing the tragic death scenes of various people whilst their family members clutch their hands and so on. A standout is probably the wife who, when her husband dies, lies down beside him, gives birth right there next to his dead body, shows his dead body the baby, then the baby dies too!

At least Mem has Hummy, though! And her Mam.

Although Mam is feeling poorly lately.

Somewhere in here we get the accounts of the first Native Americans they interact with, and we learn that Mem loves Native Americans. In fact, she thinks the Pilgrims and the Native Americans should just all get along! Hooray! And even better, a treaty is worked out so the Pilgrims and Native Americans will all get along forever! I think that’ll end well.

Then we get Thanksgiving! Hooray!!

But with all of this excitement about Native Americans, you say, have we forgotten about her Mam? Wasn’t she sick?

Yes, her Mam was sick. And also dead. She dies. She’s dead.

At least Mem has Hummy!

Nope, Hummy’s father takes her back with him when the Mayflower leaves, because he misses his dead wife’s grave in England. In fact, he missed his dead wife so much he was going around to dying people and whispering in their ears to tell his wife he would join her soon, which isn’t ominous at all. Mem and Hummy have a tearful goodbye where Hummy promises to return in any way possible, even as an indentured servant.

Then Mem is so depressed she doesn��t write in her diary for a while, and when she comes back we learn that soon there will be a ship returning from England!! Will Hummy be on the ship??

According to the epilogue: No. Hummy is not on the ship. In fact, Mem and Hummy never meet again.

The end.

Ratings:

Death Toll: 9/10 half their colony dies

Overall Gruesomeness: 4/10. I remember other books in this series being much worse.

#personal #dear america #middle grade #children's lit #this idea took like 2 and a half hours of my evening to execute #but i cant say it was an evening misspent

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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter One

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Words: 4366

This is not my original work!

This is a fan retelling of one of my favorite mangas, Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime, whose original mangaka sadly passed away in 2014, leaving the series unfinished. I will start at the beginning of the manga and go through the entire story that has already been written. Once I reach chapter 20, which is the end of the published chapters, I will have to start extrapolating and imagining how the story may have played out. I hope I can do the original story justice and not disgrace the original author.

I will say that I will be fixing a few things that made me uncomfortable about the original manga, in that the female protagonist was 15, which I didn't like. Otherwise I will try to stick as close to the original story as possible, though I will be arranging it so that it's a bit more linear.

I hope you enjoy!

“Blessings to you, my lady,” The visitor said, bowing deeply in greeting. “My name is Aquamarine. I am a servant of the high king of Banfarie and a chosen attendant to the future queen.”

The summons wasn’t necessarily a shock, but it was definitely a surprise. Lilya, the third princess of the former kingdom of Tritsia, had come of age during a bloody war between kingdoms to either side, and her small, impoverished land had been caught in the crossfire. Tritsia had been absorbed by the victorious kingdom to the east, Couliea, and was now a vassal state. As such, the royal family of Tritsia were now hardly more than paupers in their own kingdom.

Lilya assumed that she would no longer be eligible for the marriage interviews that were famously, or perhaps infamously, conducted five times every month in the largest empire in the continent, Banfarie. The interviews had been happening since before she had even been born, but as of yet, no queen had been selected. Or rather, no woman had accepted.

The rules for who would be chosen for the interviews was standard for most monarchs looking for a queen: a woman of royal or noble blood with proof of lineage, at least eighteen years old but no older that twenty five, no previous marriages or engagements, no children, and… well… consent.

Lilya met most of the criteria… except for one thing: she wasn’t a high born woman anymore. Her family’s royal status had ended when the kingdom was absorbed into another. Besides, even when her father had been king, they had never exactly been what anyone would consider proper royalty. Her father worked in the fields with his people, doing the same back-breaking labor as his subjects. Back then, she could hardly be called princess, but now she was nothing more than a peasant farm girl, more suited to feeding chickens and mucking out stables than attending grand balls and high teas.

So there had been quite a stir when their unusual guest came to deliver the summons. She was a woman who appeared very young in age, no more than perhaps sixteen, though she spoke as if she were a far older creature. She had a short bob haircut and a thick fringe, but it wasn’t enough to hide her pointed ears, her sharp eyes, and her upswept eyebrows, belying a nature that wasn’t human.

Her cloak was plain, but well-made and of fine cloth, likely silk or satin. She had all the hallmarks of a servant of a wealthy, prosperous nation. She had been given entrance to the house by the only servant Lilya’s family employed, Sebastian, and was standing in the receiving room with Lilya’s mother and aunt.

“I come with greetings from my Lord King, to relay a question and to present a gift to you, beloved princess.”

Lilya tilted her head. “A gift? His Majesty didn’t need to send a gift.”

Aquamarine simply chuckled and bowed. “From his Majesty, with his kindest regards.” From her cloak, she produced a velveteen box and opened it, revealing a tiara of breathtaking beauty. Sizable diamonds and sapphires lined the circlet and rose up to create a lovely sloped and winding style like that of wind on water. It was a crown that would suit any head it rested upon.

“Oh!” Lilya breathed. “It’s breathtaking!” She rushed to her mother in delight. “This is the answer to the famine on the outskirts in the south! If we sell the tiara at the biggest market in the neighboring kingdom, we could feed the farmers for months, maybe a year!”

“Lilya!” Her aunt exclaimed in horror. “How could you suggest such a thing? This was a gift from a king, for goodness sake, you can’t just sell it!”

“But, Auntie, I can’t hoard something like this when people are starving!”

“You would not wear it?” Aquamarine asked, her face shrewdly assessing. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all!” Lilya insisted earnestly. “It’s lovely, more so than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never worn anything so extravagant. But… truly, for me to wear it would be like putting silk ribbons on a pig. It would be far less useful as a trinket in my wardrobe and better as a tool to feed the hungry. I’m afraid that Couliea doesn’t pay much attention to our struggles, so we have to fend for ourselves. This,” Lilya gently took the box from Aquamarine and turned it so that she could see the tiara properly. “This is indeed a kingly gift. This will save lives. There is no more noble a gift as that.” She bowed her head and handed the box back gingerly. “If his Majesty would not be pleased with my conduct, I understand, but I would hope he would see the sense in my actions.”

Aquamarine laughed a little. “I do not think his Majesty will be displeased. Quite the opposite. Even still,” Aquamarine set the box down on the table and carefully pried a dangling jewel from the very center, threading it through a silver chain she had worn around her own neck, and placed it on Lilya. “His Majesty will want confirmation that his gift was received. This will suffice.”

“Then I shall wear it to the marriage interview,” Lilya said, patting it fondly.

Aquamarine’s head cocked back in surprise. “I had not even had the chance to ask you, and yet you’re agreeing to go?”

“Well, yes,” Lilya said. “That’s why you’ve come to call on me, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Aquamarine said with a smirk. “But usually it takes much more convincing on my part. I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone so… eager.”

“At the very least, I have to thank him for his generosity,” Lilya said. “Even if he decides I’m not a good match for him, I have to express my gratitude in person.”

“You’re not scared? I’m certain you’ve heard the rumors about my Lord King.”

“Well… yes,” Lilya admitted. “I won’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive, but kindness like this can’t go unacknowledged. It’s only right that I meet with him.”

Where Aquamarine’s smile had been playful and mischievous before, it was now wide and warm. “I will happily go now and inform his Majesty of your decision. My sisters and I will return in a fortnight to collect you for your interview. You may bring a guest with you, if you wish, though I assure you that you’ll be quite safe in our care.”

“I have no doubt that’s true,” Lilya said, bowing. “Would you like some refreshments to take with you on your trip back?”

“How kind of you, dear, but that won’t be necessary,” Aquamarine said, patting Lilya’s cheek. “We shall return in two weeks. You make sure you take care now. Our Lord King would be much distressed should something happen to you in the meantime.”

Aquamarine snapped her fingers, and there was a flash of light from which everyone in the room had to shield their eyes. When they blinked, the young woman was gone.

“Witch...” Sebastian said in horror. “My Lady, you can’t meet with this monster! What kind of king employs such demons?”

“Likely someone who understands that people like them also need to earn a living, I’d imagine,” Lilya said reasonably. “Besides, I’ve already agreed and accept his gift. I can’t go back on my word.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually sell such a treasure,” Your aunt said disapprovingly. “You’re so like your father.”

She didn’t mean that in a good way. Lilya’s mother’s sister, Kiya, had always disliked her father and resented him for being too weak a king, unable to protect his people during the war. She had also resented Lilya ever since she had been born. There was worry that Sophie would not be able to carry another child at her age, and that the royal line would end as there would be no male heir to Tritsia.

The birth of Lilya’s little brother shortly before her father’s death was not enough to warm Kiya to Lilya. In fact, it seemed to drive the wedge even further, as Sophie and her brother were both terribly weak afterward and there was concern they wouldn’t survive. Kiya had gone so far as to blame Lilya, telling her that it would have been her fault if they died. As a nine year old, she couldn’t imagine what she’d have done to cause such a terrible thing, but now she understood it was just her aunt lashing out.

Perhaps it was because Lilya resembled her father the most out of all her siblings, or because she was most like him in temperament, but she doubted Kiya would ever view her favorably. She was still family, though, and Lilya tried not to take her criticism to heart, though her aunt’s cutting eyes often wore into her painfully.

“I’m doing this for our country, even if it no longer exists,” Lilya said, determinedly putting the box away in a case so that Sebastian could take it to the neighboring kingdom for appraisal. “The king has called for me. The least I can do is answer.”

“Lilya’s right, Kiya,” Lilya’s mother, Sophie, said reluctantly. “It would be improper for us to take his gift and ignore him. Though I can’t say that I’m pleased with the idea of this.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “Lilya would have been expected to marry soon as it is. I supposed we couldn’t hope for better than a king.” Sophie took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Still, I’m very worried. I should come with you.”

“No, Mama, they need you here. You’ll have to be the one to make sure that the tiara gets a fair price and oversee the distribution of the food to the needy. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, Aquamarine said that she and her sisters were part of the Queen’s guard, and I liked her very much. I couldn’t be any safer.”

Lilya’s mother grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You have many lovely qualities, my sweet child, but being a good judge of character is not among them. All anyone needs to do is tell you a sad story for you to want to take them under your wing, regardless of their true intentions.” She smiled fondly. “You’re much like your father in that respect.”

Lilya smiled in return. “Father was not a good king,” She said sadly. “But he was a good man.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” Sophie said, but she frowned in distress. “You’re elder sisters had married before they got the summons, so I’ve never met with the king. Your father met with him only once, during a conference of kings, but he never told us anything about him other than he found him to be… striking. I think he didn’t tell us more because he want to frighten us.”

“Have you heard much about him?” Lilya asked anxiously.

“Reports are varied and hard to believe; that the king is a headless monster, thousands of years old, ten feet tall, winged and hulking, who eats the women who refused him. I’m not sure I believed any of that, but the rumors are still enough to make me trepidatious.”

Sebastian grumbled, his mustache shuddering. “It is the rumors that could be true that make me uneasy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am an old man now,” Sebastian said. “Well into my seventies, so I remember when the interviews began sixty years ago. In all that time, and no queen of Banfarie has been chosen. It concerns me. The king himself may now be an old man.”

“Is that why he’s being turned down?” Lilya asked.

“No, young madam,” He said. “You see, even before the interviews began, Banfarie had no queen in nearly one hundred years. In fact, since that time, no new kings had been crowned, either. The king from one hundred years ago was an elusive man who few had ever met, and those who did were terrified of him. If the current king is that man’s successor, it’s certainly distressing. But if he is the same man, then he is a creature of deeply evil magic, and Lady Lilya should stay far away from him.”

“Even if he were the same man, which should be impossible, his reputation is less than ideal,” Sophie said pensively. “The house of Banfarie is known historically for it’s cruelty and harsh punishments, even of neighboring kingdoms. It instituted a law that allowed Banfarie to make judgments on the conduct of royals, indict them criminally, and even sentence retribution against them, up to and including execution. The neighboring kingdoms pushed back against this, of course, but eventually they all fell in line and wrote it into their countries’ laws. I don’t trust any man who could wield that level of power over others.”

“But think of what that level of influence could do for Tritsia!” Kiya said. “A king with that kind of power could protect us and provide for us!”

Sophie shivered. “I don’t want to know what he would want in return for that protection.”

“Well, I would think that’s be obvious,” Kiya said, looking pointedly at Lilya.

Sophie, normally a mild, even-tempered woman, grew angry. “And you’re alright with that, are you? You’re willing to sell my youngest daughter to a monster if it benefits you?”

“Sophie, don’t be sentimental,” Kiya said, folding her arms. “Political marriages are common for royalty. If we had been a stronger country, this would be completely normal, even for a third daughter.”

“We’re not royalty anymore,” Sophie said firmly.

“But we could be, that’s the point!”

“Please, don’t fight,” Lilya said, getting between the two sisters. “I’ve already made the decision. Kiya is right; if I were to marry His Majesty of Banfarie, our kingdom would then be his responsibility rather than that of Couliea. However he treats that responsibility, it can’t be worse than the wanton destruction from the war or the indifferent cruelty of Couliea. If he accepts me, even if it is only a political marriage and nothing more, it would greatly benefit us both. He would at last gain the queen he’s been searching for and our country will be protected. I will meet him. Perhaps the rumors are wrong.”

“I can only hope,” Sophie remarked grimly. After throwing an angry look at her sister, she pulled Lilya away from Kiya and spoke in an undertone. “But… is this what you really want?”

“I want my family and people safe and well above all,” Lilya said. “If this king can offer that, then I can ask for nothing more.”

“If this is what you wish,” Her mother said slowly. “Then I will respect it. But… it is not what I would wish for you.”

“I know, Mama,” Lilia said. “We don’t always get what we truly wish for. But this is as close as I can get.”

“If the king accepts you,” Lilya’s mother remarked sadly. “We may never see you again.”

“That may not be true. I would hope that his Majesty wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my family once I settle in.”

“Just be careful, my love,” Her mother said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful.”

As promised, Aquamarine returned in a fortnight to collect Lilya to take her to the capitol of Banfarie, Rukruf. A carriage had come with them for Lilya’s comfort.

“Couldn’t you transport me like you did the day you first came?”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather disorienting way to travel for humans, My Lady,” Aquamarine said, taking Lilya’s luggage. “It would require some degree of acclamation, and I don’t think his Majesty would want you to be sick during your interview.” She lifted Lilya’s bag up with one hand. “Is this all you’re bringing with you?”

“This is all I have,” Lilya replied simply. “You admit that you’re not human?”

“I was never attempting to hide it. I’m a spirit, specifically an stone spirit, as are my sisters. There they are now.”

She jerked her head toward the carriage. There were two more women identical to Aquamarine near the carriage, one in the driver’s box and another holding open the door to the carriage. All three women had short, pale lavender colored hair and large, glittering eyes. They wore identical uniforms similar to that of an attendant, but the skirts were rather short, stopping just below the knee, giving them a freer rang of movement. Each one had a dagger hanging from their hip.

Both new sisters bowed deeply as Lilya approached.

“My lady,” They said in unison.

“Garnet,” Aquamarine said, pointing to the driver,and then to the coach-woman. “And Peridot.”

“I don’t doubt the three of you are sisters; I can’t tell you apart,” Lilya said.

“Ah, but see?” Peridot said, pointing to a white bow on the right side of her hair in the shape of a butterfly. She then pointed to Garnet, who wore a black butterfly bow on her left side, and to Aquamarine, who wore no bow at all. “Even people who know us well have trouble distinguishing us from the other, so we’ve taken to wearing these. Only his Majesty can tell us apart without them.”

“Here, my Lady,” Peridot said, swinging a beautiful, fur-lined, snow-white cloak around Lilya’s shoulders. “We’ll be going through the mountains and it’s likely to get cold. His Majesty had this made for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lilya said, petting the soft, veltvety collar that ruffed around her neck. “I’m starting to get anxious about meeting him.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Peridot asked ash she helped Lilya up into the carriage.

“I can’t tell,” Lilya replied, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” Peridot said as she came in and closed the door behind her, rapping sharply on the roof before settling. “His Majesty is only a threat to humans.”

Lilya looked at Peridot in alarm.

“It was a joke,” Peridot assured her, giggling. “…mostly.”

The carriage lurched forward and Aquamarine put a hand out to steady Lilya before she fell out of her seat.

“When will we arrive?”

“Around sunset tomorrow,” Aquamarine replied. “We’ll continue on through the night rather than stop at an inn. His Majesty is eager to meet you.”

“Won’t you be tired?” Lilya asked.

“Not to worry,” Aquamarine said. “Spirits like us don’t need much sleep, only a few hours a week. We’re all rested up.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“Yes, it is awfully handy,” Peridot said rather smugly. “Are you hungry? We’ve brought things for you to eat.”

The two days passed pleasantly and Lilya spent the time having long, friendly conversations with all three sisters. Lilya had never had lady friends her age, and though the women were spirits and likely far older than she was, they seemed to enjoy her company and asked her many questions.

“Oh, Lady, come and see!” Garnet said, pointing out of the window. “You can see the capitol city from this vantage!”

Delighted, Lilya looked out of the window where Garnet was pointing. “It’s huge!” She exclaimed. “I can’t even see the end of it! It must be as large as my entire country!”

“Your country is larger by about fifty miles, in fact,” Aquamarine said. “It’s the smallest country on the continent.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but I’m not surprised.”

“Are you sad to be from such a small country?”

“No,” She replied. “My country is beautiful and my people are good. I just wish we were better able to defend ourselves.”

“Well, you may not have that problem anymore,” Aquamarine said. “We’re nearly there.”

“Will I meet his Majesty today?”

“No, you will be tired from the trip and will rest for tonight. He will conduct your interview tomorrow after you have your breakfast. His Majesty has instructed us to see to your every comfort.”

“That’s just going to make me more anxious,” Lilya said.

“The best things are worth waiting for,” Peridot said.

That evening, they arrived at the castle, which was every bit as colossal as described. Over it was a cloud of purple, blue, and pink particles, as if it were perpetual sunset over the castle.

“What is that?”

“It’s called the Aurora,” Garnet said. “It’s a magical field that has existed over the castle for hundreds of years and is the source of the royal family’s magical power. It ascends and descends over the castle, depending on how the king feels. It’s highly reactive to his emotional state.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said. “It’s rather low right now. What does that mean?”

“Hmm…” Garnet said. “I believe he may be feeling rather withdrawn.”

“I wonder why that would be,” Lilya mused.

Standing at the front steps of the castle as they pulled up were two young men in uniform, one blond and one dark haired. The blond wore glasses and seemed to be the junior of the two. They bowed as Lilya exited the carriage.

“Miss Lilya, these are the King’s personal attendants, Larima,” She gestured at the dark haired one first, and then to the blond. “And Raba. They are meeting you in place of his Majesty today.”

“Does that mean his Majesty is watching?” Lilya asked, looking up at the windows.

“Whether he is or is not,” Larima said as he straightened. “We are pleased to meet you, My Lady. Please allow us to show you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied. Curiously, she noticed as they turned that there appeared to be leaves growing out of their hair.

The sisters were following behind her at a short distance. “Are they spirits, too?” Lilya asked them in an undertone.

“Yes,” Peridot said. “They’re tree spirits. All of the staff employed at his Majesty’s main castle are not human.”

“Why?”

“His Majesty distrusts humans,” Aquamarine replied.

“But isn’t his Majesty human?” Lilya asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Peridot responded.

“And no,” Garnet said.

Lilya made a noise of uncertainty under her breath.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “You’ll understand tomorrow.”

“This is all very ominous,” Lilya said uncertainly.

“Yes!” Peridot said. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Before she could answer, she was lead to an opulent guestroom, far larger than any of the rooms in her home, filled with luxurious furniture and carefully crafted decorations.

“This can’t be my room,” Lilya said with a laugh. “What would I do with all this space?”

Raba and Larima exchanged looks. “Do you dislike it? We have a number of other rooms. You’re free to choose any one of them.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Lilya said hastily. “It’s beautiful, I adore it. Please, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just feel like… I don’t know… isn’t it wasted on me?”

The triplets sighed sadly, having become used to Lilya’s unusual behavior, but the men continued to look confused.

“You do realize that if his Majesty chooses you and you accept, you’ll be queen?” Raba asked. “This,” He gestured at the room. “Is nothing compared to the queen’s suite.”

“Oh…” Lilya replied, a little disconcerted. “This will take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Larima said. “You’re the princess from Tritsia, correct? The smallest, poorest kingdom on the continent, now a captured vassal state of Couliea. I suppose you must not be accustomed to living so resplendently.”

“Larima!” Aquamarine hissed. “Don’t be so tactless!”

Lilya laughed a little, relieved. “No, it’s alright. I’m not used to this at all, that’s true. Will that bother his Majesty?”

Larima smiled and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Don’t worry so much about what’s appropriate and just enjoy your time here. Come.” He lead Lilya inside and showed her two cords right next to the bed, a small blue cord and a larger red cord. “The blue cord is attached to a bell in the queen’s attendants’ quarters. If you need for anything, just ring it and one of the triplets will be here in an instant. The red one is an alarm. If you pull it, bells will go off all throughout the castle. Ring it only if it’s an emergency.”

“I understand,” Lilya said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Raba and Larima bowed and left, and the triplets ushered Lilya into an adjacent dining room to have dinner.

After a restless night of sleep and a breakfast she barely touched, Lilya was dressed in a lovely blue gown that complimented her hair, which was pulled back with matching ribbons. The bodice was tight but comfortable, the cut of the dress was simple but elegant, and for the first time, Lilya felt like a proper grown woman.

A knock on the door revealed Raba.

“His Majesty is ready for you and is waiting in his office,” He said.

Lilya stood and clenched her hands to stop them from shaking and followed Raba out of her quarters with Garnet and Aquamarine following behind her.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “I think the king will like you very much.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes,” Aquamarine replied. “We’re more concerned whether or not you’ll like him.”

“Why wouldn’t I like him?” She asked.

“Well…” Garnet began regretfully, but then stopped.

“Here we are,” Raba said, gesturing to a set of large double doors. “One moment please.” Raba knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, I have retrieved Lady Lilya for her interview. Are you ready?”

There was silence, though Raba tilted his head as if he were listening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Raba opened one of the doors and stood aside. “You may enter.”

Gulping, checking that the pendant was in place, and taking a deep breath, Lilya stepped inside.

There, standing rail-straight behind a desk, was a tall, thin man wearing elaborate garments in keeping with his status as a king and emperor, as well as a sash and badges of his station. Almost immediately, one of the many rumors about the king was confirmed with Lilya’s own eyes.

His Imperial Majesty, the king of Banfarie, had no head.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime #The Princess and the Forgotten Head #Manga #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Manga Fanfic #Manga Fanfiction #Exophilia #Headless King

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jun-thorne · 3 years

Text

I will fall so you can rise. "He is wonderful, Kishou, really!” The young, green haired woman laughed. “He had so much to endure, so much to suffer. It feels like he jumped right out of a novel”

Arima felt the corners of his lips pulling. He did not share Etos enthusiasm for tragedies, but her happiness and talkative behaviour always lightened up his mood.

“Ill see if he is a suitable candidate for our purpose” he replied in his usual serious tone.

“The CCG will soon attack the 20. Ward. Then I will be able to assess him first-hand.”

Eto giggled “I’m sure he will prove himself to be worthy, Kishou. Ken Kaneki, the future one-eyed King. “

The atmosphere in cochlea resembled the silence before the storm. The air was thick and seemed tense. The occasional footsteps of the guards were hectic, nervous. But the white reaper of the CCG remained unfazed.

Kishou Arima stood motionless on his post, his glance fixed and his face neutral. But his outer appearance deceived. His mind was racing, roaming restless, thinking about him.

During the last months, Haise had changed. Arima pretended not to notice, but the truth could not have been more obvious. The, formerly, strong wall between Ken Kaneki and Haise Sasaki had crumbled and turned to dust. The gears which had been created by Eto and him, Arima, were now turning, and could not be stopped anymore.

„You need a name. “Arima said, his voice bland and stern, his face vacuous.

“A name…? “Replied Prisoner 240, surprise and a hint of confusion in his expression.

“The rehabilitation program plans for you to become an investigator. We cannot call you number 240 forever. What would you like it to be? Arima said, his expression still neutral.

“A Name… Don’t others usually give names?” asked Prisoner 240. The surprise in his face had now turned into confusion completely.

“The Higher ups have said that they would leave it to you.” Arima replied, his voice imperceptibly softer. “Pick to of your favourite Kanji”

“Then Coffee… and the world” 240 said after hesitating shortly.

“So Haise“

„mmm… I like it. It sounds nice. Thank you, Arima-San. “ in Haise’s voice lay happiness, as he looked up to Arima. The older man looked back with his usual neutral expression. But if one would have looked closely, they could have recognized the spark in Arimas eyes, which had not been there before.

A squad of guards passed under the platform he was standing on. But Arima did not pay attention to them, his thoughts dwelling in the past.

Arima had supervised the “creation” of Haise Sasaki. He had trained him, had watched him grow and learn. He knew every of his little mannerism, every move of him, by heart.

In the beginning he had tried to convince himself, that his interest in Sasaki had been of pure professional nature. Eto had chosen him, and he would train him, forming him into the man he needed to be.

But Arima had grown fond of Haise. He catched himself reorganizing his schedule to make time to return the borrowed books personally, or to slide in a small stop for coffee at the chateau.

“Arima-San, your coffee is really mug-nificent” Haise snickered, voice filled with unconcealed pride about his successful pun. Contrary to his normally reserved behaviour, Arima could feel a small grin pull on the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you, that beans a lot to me” he answered, resulting in Haise bursting out with laughter and spitting his Coffee over the table. The sight was hilarious and soon Arima was laughing too, loud and sincere.

Startled by his thoughts, Arima returned his attention to the present. He noticed the small smile which had sneaked upon his face and quickly removed it, going back to his blank expression. He could not afford such displays of emotion.

His thoughts travelled to his first encounter with Kaneki, during the fight at the route V14 under the 20. Ward. The determination of the young ghoul had surprised, even impressed him. Kanekis will had been strong, but he had been no match for Arima. Still, Arima had decided to spare his life…. At least a part of it. He had inflicted intolerable pain on Kaneki, wiping out his old life and his memories in the process.

„You were right Eto” he said. “He really is special. “

„Was there ever any doubt?” asked the young ghoul. “He has this determination, right?

Arima only nodded-

“This world is just like a novel, Kishou…” she mused “and we are creating the protagonist.”

“That remains to be seen” he replied.

Arima checked his watch. 11:32 PM. The night had already fallen over cochlea. Haise would not wait much longer, he knew. Soon it would begin.

Arimas gaze wandered through cochlea, suddenly fixing on a inconspicuous door in the lower levels. His position stiffed imperceptibly and a wave of nausea came over him.

„This is our last meeting. “ He said, seemingly emotionless.

It was a futile attempt to make their parting easier.

“I… will miss you” the green haired woman said, not even trying to supress the feelings which crept into her voice. She stood up from the smack bed in her cell and looked him in the eyes. Arima returned her gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. He closed the distance between them and embraced her in his arms.

“My Story is now written” he whispered. “And I’m glad I spent it with you.”

“Me too” she answered. She rose up on her tip toes and her lips brushed softly over his in a last tender kiss. When they parted she averted her gaze.

„Kishou… He will succeed, right?” suddenly doubt in her normally confident voice.

“Of Course! “He answered.

The Sirens of the cochlea whirred in Arimas ears and pulled him out of his thoughts

“Attention Staff: Capture the Person who is continuing to open the isolation cells. Associate Special Class Haise Sasaki. I repeat: capture Haise Sasaki “

At the end of the bridge, he was standing on Squad 0 appeared, his squad. They were whispering with each other, seemingly nervous. With a side glance he noticed that Take Hirako was eyeing him but Arima did not pay attention to it. Etos words echoed through his mind

“I’m sure he will prove himself to be worthy, Kishou. Ken Kaneki, the future one-eyed King. “

Yes, Kaneki was worthy, of that Arima was sure.

And so, he made his decision.

“Squad 0, the orders which I gave remain unchanged!” he said, his voice stern and without any emotion. His gaze wandered over the young investigators, his grey eyes cold and still filled with pride. Then he turned to Hirako

„Take good care of them Take” he said, a hint of warmth in his voice. He patted him on the shoulder, an almost heartfelt gesture between the partners which had known each other for so long. They exchanged one last glance, then Arima turned away.

His thoughts which had been restless in the last hours were now at ease, making room for a pleasant void. There was only one last task to fulfil.

„Haise… I will fall so you can rise!” he whispered

#tokyo ghoul #arima kishou #eto yoshimura #eto #one eyed owl #arima squad #take hirako #tokyo ghoul re

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jaz-xedarix · 3 years

Text

The Return of the Star

Thank you so much for your patience and your nice words. I really appreciated them too much.

So finally I have finished part II, and things are starting to get really interesting.

As I promised there’s a new coloring among the text, I really hope you like it, and I put another one, but a bit older, since I couldn’t resist to post it in this part XD

Thanks so much to @buffaloborgine and @trinity-blood-translations for helping me correct this text, your effort is valuable to me. Send you lots of love my friends.

Let’s get started.

════════════╠☆╣════════════

The Istvan Opera House was located on Andrássy Street, the main avenue of the city. It was an old style building that had survived Armageddon. After the liberation battle, it was the first place restored by the archbishop, to serve as a public building for the citizens.

The building was built in a magnificent and delicate Neo-Renaissance style. It was an imposing work that could be compared to the Scala in Milan, the Opernhaus in Vienna or the Státní in Prague. The facade had a secluded air, but once inside the decorations in gold and purple colors overwhelmed the visitor with their luxury.

The “guest of honor” entrance that Esther passed through was no exception. In the boxes facing the wide stage, the rugs were so thick that they reached to the ankles, as if she were in a lavish palace. The walls were lined with works of art and all the furniture had been expressly imported from Rome or Florence.

However, everything paled when compared to the beauty of the woman who was waiting for her sitting on the sofa.

“Welcome, Sister Esther. You may be exhausted after the trip...”

The Cardinal Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan, Secretary of State of the Vatican and head of its foreign policy, gave a friendly welcome to the nun. Telling her to sit on the couch that was in front, where the two priests was already sitting, she laid her cup of tea on the table.

“I've was told you've had a difficult time with the media at the station. I am glad that you are well.” “Nothing happened… More than anything, it was a surprise that…”

Looking into the gray eyes that smiled at her behind the monocle, the nun awkwardly shook her head like a puppet. For Esther, the Cardinal was a person almost as sacred as the Virgin. Every time she presented herself to her, she couldn't help but get nervous and tense. She brushed off the sweat she didn't have and continued in an uneasy voice:

“Your Eminence, the journalists called me Saint… what kind of joke is this? And why am I the protagonist of the play that is going to be performed here tonight?” “We'll talk about all that later...” Adjusting her monocle, the beautiful woman looked up at the stage, the curtain still closed, and sighed. “His Holiness will be here shortly. He is accompanied by the Minister of Information, who is the one who has organized all this. I myself know only part of the story. It will be better if he tell us all about it in person… What I want to hear now is what news you bring me from the Empire.”

The cardinal spoke with the usual serenity. However, her voice had hardened slightly as she turned her gaze back to the nun and priest, as she crossed her legs under her habit.

“Were you able to contact the empress?” “Yes, we have to inform you about it.” Esther steadied herself and her voice changed as she began to recite the report that she had been rehearsing mentally in the way: “We were fortunate enough to have direct contact with the Empress in...” “Well, the truth is that we couldn't speak to her directly…”

Everything Esther had prepared came to nothing when the other voice interrupted her, preventing her from speaking.

“Eh!?” She didn't even have time to stop him. As he turned to the voice, she saw that Abel was still speaking with an irrepressible verbiage, which did not leave her a space to intervene.

“We did our best to deliver Her Eminence's message in person, but, of course, meeting the Empress in person was beyond our means. Even so, you need not worry, because we asked a local noblewoman, the Marquise of Kiev, Astharoshe Asran, whom I already knew before, to serve as an intermediary. The message will have reached its destination; you can be sure of it.” “Ah? Bu... Father... Wait a minute...” But what was he saying!? Esther nervously adjusted her habit as if to signal him, but Abel did not stop chattering for an instant, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands. “Yes, we suffered the unspeakable to achieve it. Abroad, right? One does not know how things are done... To fulfill our mission we spend our days without stopping running up and down... tears come to my eyes just remembering it now that I tell you, and without doubt, you will cry too... Imagine, I lost three kilograms!”

Where did all this nonsense come from? Esther managed to come to herself and resist the curiosity to see how far the priest would be able to go.

“Wait... wait, father! Stop speaking nonsense!” She did not know what this foolishness was about, but if it continued like this, Caterina would end up thinking that they had not seen the Empress. Covering Abel's mouth with her hand, Esther yelled in the direction of the Cardinal:

“Ignore him, Your Eminence! We do…”

«We did speak directly to the Empress!» Just when Esther, red with exertion, was about to shout that phrase...

“Cardinal Sforza, I beg your pardon...” An elegant male voice echoed out as the door opened. Looking up, the Cardinal met a man who was greeting her respectfully and who was leading a group of three people. He was middle-aged and wore the purple sash on his habit that indicated his status as archbishop.

“Forgive us for interrupting your conversation, Your Eminence. His Holiness and Cardinal Borgia have arrived.” “Hello Beautiful!” The second voice would seem to have been made up of a frivolous shake spiced with kitsch. It was hard to imagine anyone less suited to wear the Cardinal habit than the young man with long dyed hair and a nasal voice who had just entered. This was Antonio Borgia, the Minister of Information. “How long, right?! Makes sooo much that I did not see how fantastic you are that seems that my aesthetic sense have atrophied, you know? How are we doing?” “Good afternoon, Cardinal Borgia. I see you are very happy. If I'm not mistaken, we met the day before yesterday in Rome, right?”

Responding sharply to the young man, Caterina turned her gaze to the third figure in the group. Seeing the face of the teenager coming up behind the two men, her cold gaze softened.

“Ah, Alec…! How was the flight? Are you dizzy again?” “Y..., y... yes, sister...” Dressed with beautiful white clothes, the Pope Alessandro XVIII spoke with a low voice. In addition to being extremely shy around people, to the point of bordering on autism, get out of Rome or even out of the Papal Palace supposed one horrible adventure for him. Anyways, the face of his sister seemed to calm him a bit, because he went on, stammering:

“I..., I got dizzy a b..., a little... b... but now I'm fi... I'm fine...” “Really? But you don't have very good color. I'll make someone to prepare some medicine for you... Wait, I'll take the opportunity to make the introductions, since we're all here. This is Sister Esther from the Secretary of State. She is the Saint of Istvan”

Exhorted by Caterina, the nun saluted respectfully. “Nice to meet you. It is an honor to be in your presence, Holiness.”All Vatican employees knew of the reserved character of the pope. In order not to startle him, Esther spoke in a calm voice as she placed a light kiss on his hand.“I am not worthy of you granting me the grace to kneel before you... “ “Ah...! N..., no...” At the touch of the young woman's lips, the pope went from pale to flushed. His breathing quickened, as if he were going to have a heart attack, and he withdrew his hand in embarrassment. ”And…, and…, I… And…, and…, I…, I…”

“Holiness, you must be tired...” said the first man who had entered, placing his hand on the shoulder of the babbling teenager. Maybe half a century of his life had already passed, but his face had manly features that surely wreaked havoc on the opposite sex when he was young. With an attentive expression, he made the young Pope sit on the sofa.

“The show will take a while to start. Get some rest here. If you allow me, I will handle the speech.” “Thank you, Archbishop D'Annunzio...”

Before Esther's eyes, the Pope was panting hard, as if he were going to have a panic attack or something. The one who wiped the sweat from his forehead to reassure him was Caterina.

“Forgive me for putting you through something like this, but this ceremony took so much effort that...” “Oh, does not matter! It is an honor to be able to do our bit to the work of her eminence and the Vatican.”

Emanuele D'Annunzio, Archbishop of Istvan, smiled kindly as he took Caterina’s hand. After kissing her like a gentleman kisses a lady, he turned his serene green eyes to her beautiful face. “I wrote the script for tonight's play myself. I am afraid that it will not be up to the refined taste of Her Eminence, but it will be my honor that you listen to it... I do not know how the representation will turn out, but...” “It'll be great, you know? Sure: super, super good.”

The one who responded in this way to the humble words of the archbishop was not Caterina, but the other cardinal present. Antonio, adjusting his bangs, continued with a slightly annoyed voice. “Because, hey, haven't we helped you with production from the Ministry? I mean, the stage, and the direction, and the actors... Aaaaall of it it’s super mega first class. So if it goes wrong, it will be because of the script, you know?” “We will be forever grateful for your support, Cardinal Borgia. It is an honor that you have dedicated your valuable time to our representation...”

D'Annunzio's words were kind, but there was a hint of provocation in his tone. His green gaze was fixed on the young man, like an adult lion facing the cub that wants to take his place.

“Today's ceremony is very important to us, because our recovery will serve to show it to the world. Its success will also serve to show the power of the Vatican… We hope to continue having the support of the Ministry of Information from now on.” “...”

Although the tone was defiant, it could not be said that there was anything really wrong from the archbishop's words. Antonio was silent, something strange in him, as if not knowing what to answer, clearly feeling the difference in maturity that existed between him and his interlocutor.

In his fifties, Archbishop D'Annunzio was an experienced man who had played a crucial role in the Vatican since the time of the previous Pope Gregorio XXX. As the right hand of Alfonso d'Este, who was then head of the College of Cardinals, he had held important positions as Director of the Holy Inquisition and Chief Secretary of the Vatican. In his spare time he had written dozens of novels and more than two hundred plays, and was considered one of the literary geniuses of his time. However, his brilliance had provoked the envy of Alfonso, who ended up moving him away from the center. His fame was surpassed only by Cardinals Medici and Sforza, the Pope's stepsiblings. No one but a skilled politician would have gotten Istvan city reborn from its ruins just a year after the catastrophe of The Star of Sorrow.

“Ah, but I have not yet greeted the main guest...”

After silencing the young man, the archbishop turned quickly to Esther, who was silently observing the dialectical combat between the two high religious positions.

“This is the first time we met, but I know you very well, Sister Esther. I beg your pardon for having you come from so far away.” “Ple…pleased to meet you, Your Excellency...” Esther rose, embarrassed, from the sofa at the friendly smile of the priest and lowered her head, blushing at his manly features.“I am much honored that you invited me. It is an honor to meet you personally.” “Not at all, the honor is mine for being able to greet the Saint in person. I did extensive research on you to write this script. I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time, but... the truth is that you have surprised me. I didn't think you were so beautiful...” “I… beautiful? Not at all…”

At the Archbishop's compliments, Esther buried her head deeply and turned even more red. Half confused, half flustered, she looked around for Abel to come to her aid. “It's the first time I've been invited to a box of honor at the opera, but hey, what a sight! Heh heh, I feel like God...”

The priest was lost in his thoughts, observing the theater, and did not realize that the nun was looking at him. In her imagination, Esther kicked him on the back, while scratching her head, wondering how to respond to the archbishop.

“May I ask you not to call me Saint? It's a too important word that I don't deserve at all...” “You don't deserve it? You are too modest, sister… ” D'Annunzio replied, still smiling, as if enjoying the young woman's bewilderment. Extending his hand to fix her cap, the archbishop looked at her with mischievous face “You are the holy maiden who protected the people and killed the evil demon... As Archbishop of Istvan I cannot be grateful enough. Tonight's performance is my humble attempt to help your feat remain in the memory of future generations.” “I am very grateful to you, but...”

With a tight smile, Esther awkwardly shook her head. Her face had suddenly lost its rosy color. Saint Esther? What all that was about?

She murmured that inside her with downcast eyes, it wasn't just because the name disgusted her.

A year ago a man had expired in her arms. He was someone who had loved his human wife, someone who had decided to fight the world as revenge because the humans themselves had taken the woman he loved from him.

The “evil demon” that D'Annunzio referred to was that being. Esther had been elevated to the category of Saint for the "feat" of having killed him, but there was something that did not convince her. All this seemed like a farce in which she did not want to be involved...

“Ah, by the way, Your Eminence, what about Cardinal Medici? I thought he was also going to be present at the ceremony for the fallen...” “Unfortunately, his commitments do not allow him to leave Rome. He said he would send a representative, but… still not arrived?”

D'Annunzio and Caterina began to talk about practical matters. Relieved that she was no longer the center of the conversation, Esther turned her eyes to the audience.

More than a thousand spectators filled the theater. They were all famous people from the city, but Esther didn't recognize any faces. During the reconstruction of Istvan, D'Annunzio had given preferential treatment to the industrialists of Rome and Venice to install their factories and banks in the city. The attendees were all rich people of that kind. The echoes of the conversations that were heard were not in Hungarian, but mainly in the official language of Rome.

The curtain was still down, but the actors could be seen waiting behind the scenes, probably to come out to say hello before the performance. Among them was a smiling young nun, the heroine portrayed in the flier. The hunchback next to her would be the Marquis of Hungary. The sinister makeup highlighted his monstrous appearance and showed long predator fangs. It couldn't be clearer that he was the bad guy in the story.

The fragile and beautiful heroine would go through many difficulties, but in the end she would defeat the monster and bring peace to the city. It was such a predictable story that just by seeing the actors you could already imagine.

But…

«But the fight end was much more complex», thought Esther, grabbing unconsciously the rosary that hung from her neck. «It’s not the urge to kill. I don't have such bad taste as to enjoy killing others. This is a fight for life»

The man who had said those words was not a mere “evil demon”, nor had Esther fought him for strictly holy motives. There were still many things that she did not fully understand, but it was clear that this had been a struggle for survival. If she had lost, it would have been Esther and her companions who would have died. Yet the young girl couldn't get a question out of her head: «Was it really an inevitable conflict?»

A nun like her couldn't ask such a question out loud. As long as she worked for the Vatican, a doubt like that was tantamount to questioning her own identity...

“Eh?”

Esther was lost in her thoughts for one moment, but at once came back to herself. Among the actors who had gathered in one corner of the stage, a figure that had gone out discreetly from behind the curtain of the opposite corner had called her attention.

It was one girl more or less of the same age of Esther, she had brown skin, an unusual color in the region, and her hair of a raven black. The combination of the daring opening of her dress with the long gloves decorated with precious stones gave her an extremely dramatical air. But what attracted the interest of Esther was neither her figure nor the clothes she wore. Those purple eyes that glowed in the well-proportioned face... she had seen them before somewhere.

“That girl looks familiar to me...” “Is there something wrong, Esther?”

The voice that echoed behind her was of the lanky priest, who was wandering absent-mindedly around the royal box. As he devoured with his eyes the plate of tea pastries next to the young woman, he asked:

“Suddenly you were silent, doing that face… Oh, do you have a stomach ache? Do you want me to eat those pastries? I don't mind doing you that favor...” “No,” Esther replied dryly, cutting off the priest and added, pointing at the girl with her finger: “Doesn't that girl looks like someone familiar to you, father? I've seen that face already... and not long ago.” “Eh, what girl?” The priest asked in an intrigued voice, and looking where Esther was pointing, he looked confused. “I don't see any girl… Ah, you mean that actress over there?” “No, I mean, the one that has come from the other si... Huh?”

When she looked back to the stage, Esther furrowed her brow, as well as Abel. The female figure that she had seen an instant before had disappeared. “But how strange... she was there a moment ago...” “Wow! Is that the actress who plays your role? I had seen her in the flyer, but in live she is even more beautiful!” Abel had already lost all interest in Esther and was absorbed in watching the group of actors. He made no effort to hide the drool from looking at the actress. "But what a beauty! Both in style and in attractive it is much better than the original… Ah, but don't be angry, Esther. It is undeniable that she is much more beautiful, elegant and seductive than you, but you have your special appeal. You don't have to worry.” “I have to take that as a compliment!?”

Esther put the cup of tea on the plate, ready to answer the priest as he deserved, but...

“Ah! The representation is about to begin...” murmured the Archbishop, raising the eyes to the clock and got up to say goodbye to the Pope and the Cardinals. “Holiness, Eminences, I hope you enjoy with the performance. Excuse me, I will give the welcome the public... Come on, Sister Esther.” “What!? Me?”

Esther was stunned, pointing her finger at herself as she blinked in surprise.Why did she have to accompany the archbishop to greet those people?Seeing the nun's confusion, the archbishop smiled and in a sweet voice, he dropped the bomb: “Let's greet the audience together… I suppose you have prepared a little speech.” “Sa... say hello to...? A speech!?”

At those completely unexpected words, Esther was dumbfounded. It was a joke? He couldn't expect for her to just come out on stage in front of the crowd and improvise a speech!

“Wait ... wait! It's a bit hasty...” “But haven't you come prepared? How clueless my Saint is... Well, what can we do? As I assumed something like this could happen, I have allowed myself the freedom to prepare a small draft. You just have to read it.” “Eh…? But…”

The archbishop seemed to be completely serious and handed her a pile of papers. Esther received them without knowing very well what to do and looked doubtfully to the priest, looking for his help...

“Ah, Esther! If you go on stage, can you ask that actress to sign an autograph for me?” Let it say,«To Father Nightroad, sweetheart» or something like that, okay? Heh heh heh...!” “!”

Saving her killer instinct for later Esther heaved a deep breath.There was no way out of it.

"Ugh, I'm late!"

Although it was still early November, the winter cold had already fallen on Istvan. Gloomy clouds covered the sky, and although the building was supposed to be equipped with heating, the white breath of the people walking through the lobby of the Opera House could be seen.

However, the male figure that rushed into the hall seemed immune to all of it. From the gigantic man who crossed the room devastating the carpet emanated a suffocating sensation of summer heat. It goes without saying that such a figure attracted all eyes, as if a monster from another world had suddenly appeared in the room; but the man seemed oblivious to it and advanced with a hard look, as if he were entering enemy territory.

“What a misery to have suffered a setback precisely when I am representing Cardinal Medici! This mistake can be very expensive, Petros!”

Dressed in the uniform of a secret police officer, Brother Petros looked up at the clock as if observing an ancient enemy. Although there were still twenty minutes until the start of the performance, he had committed a very serious fault by not having arrived before His Holiness made his entrance.

Anyway, he had only arrived in the city a few minutes ago, sent by his superior, who had too many business holding him back in Rome. He had not arrived by air, like the Pope, but had taken the land route. The planned inspection of the military facilities had taken him longer than planned, and that had caused the delay.

Although the inspection had been satisfactory, it was scandalous that the director of the Holy Inquisition arrived after the papal retinue. No doubt a severe reprimand from Francesco awaited him when he returned. If it was just a row that awaited him... There was one other thing that Petros had to worry about...

“Where will the honor box be? Eh…? Where the hell am I?”

As soon as he went through the lobby, Petros stopped. He had to accept that he was lost and began to look around, but none of the doors he saw were the ones he was looking for.

Indeed, he did not know where he was. He had stormed across the lobby, but had no idea how to get to the honor box. Resigned to search blindly, he began to scan the surroundings with a fierce grin, to see if he could find any sign, but could do nothing more than make a passing child cry.

The issue was that the box of honor was not accessible from the general entrance but it had its own access, but Il Ruinante had no way of knowing that. He gritted his teeth and prepared to undo his way when...

“Oh!”

Behind the intrepid warrior monk came a small cry of pain.

Turning around, Petros had collided head-on with a girl who was walking behind him. The girl fell on her back to the carpet, dropping what she was carrying.

“Aaah! Forgive me, sister! How clumsy you are, Petros!”

The man tried to apologize as he picked up the papers, which had been strewn down the hall. The nun was still moaning on the floor, clutching her bonnet.

“Excuse my ineptitude! Are you OK? Eh? You!?” As he helped the nun to stand up, Petros' face changed as he roared in surprise at his interlocutor, who was still reeling: “You are Esther Blanchett!” “Ah, brother… Petros, right?” Moved by the violence with which the inquisitor had spoken her name, the young woman stepped back, raising her tearful gaze to Il Ruinante, and bowed to him. “We haven't seen each other for a long time… Ah, thanks again for your support in Carthage.” “No, please, I'm the one who owes you... But what am I saying?!” Petros began to respond to the greeting automatically, but quickly came back to himself. This was not the time to chat! “Esther Blanchett! What are you doing here!? This is not the place for you!”

Finally the nun straightened with surprise in her eyes. “Well, I was getting ready for the speech. Archbishop D'Annunzio has ordered me to greet the audience with a few words and was reviewing the script...” “Has the archbishop ordered it? Impossible. How can it be that...?” Laughing like if he was talking to a little girl, Petros glanced at the script, his expression suddenly turning from skepticism to surprise. Topping the sheets was… the archbishop's seal!? The inquisitor began hastily reading the text. “Wha... but what...?! «Before all of you gathered here I want to raise my voice to denounce...»”

«Before all of you gathered here, I want to raise my voice to denounce that there is pure Evil in the world. I want to raise my voice to say that as long as that Evil is not exterminated, we will have no future. We must unite to fight and defend everything we love, everything we respect. It will be a difficult and tough fight, but all united in our Faith we must face…».

It was unbelievable, but it seemed to be, indeed, the script of a speech. And it took up almost fifty pages. The tone was a bit affected and overly dramatic, but the closing archbishop's signature seemed authentic.

“Hmmm! And the archbishop signed it... But I can't believe it! Why did he ask you to…!?” He said, looking at the nun with suspicious eyes. “Are you plotting against me!? Tell me the truth or you will regret it!” “Eh? The truth is that I have no idea what you are talking about for a while now...”

The young woman scratched her head, honestly confused. It was like talking to a drunk who did nothing but repeat the same story.

“It's not that I don't find it strange to be here, really. First I receive a notice from the Duchess of Milan to come to Istvan, then they ask me to give a speech... The truth is that the...” “The Duchess of Milan… Cardinal Sforza!?” Petros reacted quickly to the young woman's words. The Cardinal... what was that viper up to?

Actually, Petros was most concerned about what the Pope's stepsister might do during the visit. Taking advantage of the absence of Cardinal Medici, she could try to manipulate His Holiness or do some strange maneuver... He had to be prepared for anything, and the facts gave him reasons to suspect. So the viper had already set off... But he would not trip over the same stone of Carthage again. This time they would not escape from him!

Staring at the nun, who was staring at him in bewilderment, Petros clenched his fist. That witch had played with him in Carthage. Just when he was about to uncover her plot, all evidence had been destroyed. He knew with certainty that she had had contact with the vampires, although it had escaped him at the last moment. But this time he would catch her. He would discover what is she plotting around the Pope and would denounce it to the world!

“Ah, there you are, Sister Esther...”

A cold voice roused the inquisitor from his inflamed musings. It was an elegant male voice, interrupting him as if to protect the nun.

“I've been looking for you for a while. Eh? I think we've met before… What brings the Inquisition here, Brother Pietro Orsini?” “Yo... Your Excellence!” Hearing his secular name after so long, Petros turned as if an electric current had passed through his body. Seeing the archbishop approaching, he gave a forced salute. “How long! What a joy to see you again!” “Yes, a long time, Orsini. The last time we saw each other was when I left my charge as Director of the Inquisition, right? You were just a kid and look at you now. How time flies!” “I will never be grateful enough for your advice and your attention back then!” Said Petros, bowing deeply, as if he were a spring doll.

Il Ruinante’s sword was feared inside and outside the Vatican, but there were four people he bowed his head to. One of them was Archbishop D'Annunzio.

“Please excuse my delay. The review of the troops has taken me longer than I had calculated and the roads were collapsed...” “You can tell me that later...” the archbishop cut him immediately, turning around and say with sweet voice to Esther, who was watching them in astonishment. “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to read the script? It’s almost time for your speech. Let's go up on stage.” “Yes, I have read the text…” replied the nun, embarrassed, taking the papers that the inquisitor had returned to her with an impetuous gesture. “But, Your Excellence, am I really supposed to read that speech?” “Eh? What do you mean, sister?”

The archbishop was surprised to see the dark light that had covered the young woman's eyes, and asked with a cautious expression: “You don't like the parliament I have prepared for you? Does it not meet your literary expectations?” “No, is not that. It is wonderfully written and conveys the ideas very well… But the message…” The nun choked with her words… After hesitating and stammering for a few seconds, she looked up, determined. “Why make such a clear call to war? A year ago we fought the Marquis of Hungary, it is true. But it was a pure struggle for survival. We did not think of pretty phrases like «divine glory» or «security of human society»...” “Ah, that's what you mean...” D'Annunzio interrupted the young woman's fiery voice with great serenity. The archbishop's smile keep its charm, but his tone had a certain inhuman echo. “You don't have to take it so seriously, Sister Esther. The public gathered here tonight have not come to hear the truth. What they expect is a dramatic and exciting story… They want the story of the heroic maiden who struck down the evil vampire. Isn't it our obligation to meet those expectations?” “B... but...” “Listen to me, Saint...” D'Annunzio silenced Esther with a gesture and shook his head. The hallway had begun to fill up, and the archbishop lowered his voice, returning greetings to passing guests. “You are a very sweet girl, Esther. I fully understand that you don't like harsh words. But think about it for a moment. Although it has recovered a lot this year, Istvan is still going through difficult times. The life of the citizens, your compatriots, is still very hard. Think how important it would be for them to have a heroine...”

The archbishop placed a very white hand on her shoulder as he looked deeply into her eyes. “Esther Blanchett, you must be their Saint. You must be the image that encourage their hearts. You must be the strength and the hope of all those you love, of all humanity. I will show you how.” “...”

Esther was doubtful at the powerful words of the archbishop, after opening and closing her lips as if not knowing what to say, the girl sighed deeply.

“Good. I'll try.” “Good girl.” Nodding with satisfaction, D'Annunzio opened the door that led to the stage.“Sister Esther, it's time to go on stage. The public awaits you.” “OK…”

«The public awaits you». She would have felt joyful, but the worried expression of the girl did not changed. Even it could be said that the suffering is evident in her face. Anyways, Esther began to walk dragging her feet. She went through the door the archbishop had opened for her and disappeared down the dark corridor.

After closing the door, D'Annunzio made a sarcastic face.

“What a difficult Saint to handle... one breaks one's back to turn her it into a star, and she, in return, complains...” “Ah?” At the archbishop's cold laugh, Petros looked up in surprise. Opening the door again, D'Annunzio said in a clear voice, to the surprise of his former subordinate: “I never know how to treat smart ass girls. It's so boring having to lecture them like that… The tools should be quiet and just do what they are asked to do…” “A tool...? Your Excellence, when you say «tool» do you mean that girl? And what does it mean to «turn her into a star»?”

Petros asked in astonishment. So he didn't really think she was a Saint?

“Ah! So the director of the Inquisition is still there...”

The Archbishop of Istvan turned as if he was seeing a stranger and responded with the tone of someone who had just discovered a stain on his clothing.

“You heard me perfectly. Saint Esther is nothing more than an image created by the Vatican. It is a huge fiction promoted through the management of the media and the investment of large amounts of money...”

The bishop spoke confidently in the dark corridor, as if explaining everything to a tough-minded subordinate. “As you know, the Vatican is losing power over the secular states. To stop this trend, it is necessary to regain the center of social attention. Creating a Saint is part of that project. Esther Blanchett is nothing more than a tool for our plans...”

«You shall not worship idols», the Bible made it very clear. Didn't the archbishop know? D'Annunzio spoke as if he did not feel any apprehension or guilt for playing with the life of a girl and the faith of millions of people like that. “Besides, as a tool, it's first class. Her past is impeccable, and it doesn't hurt that she's so pretty… She has a very cute face, don't you think, Orsini?” “Eh? Well, I wouldn't know...” At the knight's embarrassment, the archbishop looked at him with mocking eyes. “You don't know about that? Well, it doesn't matter… I have to introduce my Saint to the public. Orsini, you can go to the box of honor. Then we will talk about your delay. Get ready.”

D'Annunzio turned, dropping those cold words, and reached for the door that led to the stage.

“Ah!?”

Frightened, Petros started to run away from his former superior, but just as he was about to give a farewell bow, he remembered that he still had something to ask him about. “Your Excellence... I really have a question to ask you before I present myself before His Holiness.” Half-closing the door, the archbishop turned with an annoyed gesture at the voice of his exasperating interlocutor. “What?”

D'Annunzio's voice was reminiscent of a teacher announcing to a student that he had failed. Petros barely repressed his desire to flee and ran from the archbishop just to ask: “I have just reviewed the City Guard, but… Your Excellence, what does this deployment mean? I have seen a complete division or even more. What about those tanks and aircraft!?” D'Annunzio continued walking as if he was unaware of the alarm that echoed in Il Ruinante's words. “I admire how you have managed to reform in just one year an organization that had been completely destroyed. But for a public order force it is a bit out of proportion. Is there something going wrong?” “Eh? What is going to go wrong?” The archbishop stopped for the first time.

Twisting his mouth, he answered coldly to Petros’ puzzled gaze. “Certainly the Guard's strength now exceeds what it was a year ago. Nobody hides it. But if the situation of the city is taken into consideration, it cannot be said that they are sufficient. After all, Istvan is the central column of the Vatican's eastern defense line. Their defensive potential has to be as great as possible... don't you think?” “If you will allow me to speak frankly, I think there is a problem of magnitude! The Second Division of the Vatican Army is deployed in this area, which is responsible of the defense work. The City Guard should only perform police functions. What is the point of equipping the police as if it were an army?”

The only response Petros' fiery speech got was a cold smile. “Well, well, I see that you still don't understand anything, Orsini...”

The archbishop made no effort to hide the malice and contempt on his face. As if he felt sorry for the stupidity of his interlocutor, he made a face, laughing through his nose. “Yes, there is an army division stationed here. But in the event of war, those troops will leave the region. Won't Istvan have to defend itself, then? That is why we have increased the strength of the Guard... Of course it costs us a lot of resources, but that is why we can’t afford to reduce it.” “But that dismantles all the plans of Rome and Cardinal Medici! Also, you speak of war, but now that the region has stabilized, where is the risk of war going to come from? Neighboring countries respect the authority of the Vatican and there is no sign of any disturbance to happen so...” “Brother Petros!!!”

The scream echoed like an ice whip. Throwing a defiant look at the inquisitor, the archbishop harshly carved his words into the dark air of the hall. “Are you the Director of the Holy Inquisition and you don't understand something like that!? Have you forgotten who the mortal enemy of humanity is!? Have you forgotten that this Empire of terrible devils is next to us!? If you've forgotten, I'll remind you. Never forget: this is Istvan, the front line of the battle against vampires!” “Ah…? But...”

Anyone who had attended their dialogue would have been frozen in surprise.Il Ruinante, known as the most implacable man in the Vatican, had fallen silent.

When he noticed Petros is not going to reply, the archbishop softened his expression. “Well, I don't want to lecture you anymore. Go back to the lobby. Didn't you come to escort His Holiness? That's all you're worth for. At least accomplish the mission you've been given.” “Y... yes! With your permission...” Gritting his teeth, Petros bowed.

He was not at all convinced by the reasons given by his former superior, but he had no proper reply at the time. He didn't have time either. He turned towards the exit when... Just then the door closed in front of him. And, as if they were waiting for that moment, the guards locked the door from outside.

“Hey…”

Had they locked him up!? Petros looked around him, bewildered. The doors that led to the stalls were all closed with bolt. The lighting in the hall began to dim as the lighting on the stage took hold. The warrior priest then heard the sound of the presenter's voice through the microphone:

“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Istvan Opera House! In a few moments the Star of Sorrow will begin before all of you.”

“Petros, you are so clumsy!”

The inquisitor began to get nervous. He had to find a way to get to the Pope's box as soon as possible! However, as much as he searched everywhere he was not able to find an open door. Apparently the security measures were meant to keep the public effectively locked inside the theater.

He actually couldn’t make someone to open one of the doors invoking his authority as head of the Inquisition, if he did it, that would divert the attention of the speech that was about to start on the stage, and when they found out, the archbishop would scold him again some more.

“Before we start, the author of the script will say a few words of welcome… His Excellene the Archbishop of Istvan, Emanuele D'Annunzio!” “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

While Il Ruinante was sweating while desperately looking for a way out, the welcome speech had begun on stage. Taking the microphone, the Archbishop smiled with all his virile charm. However, the voice that began to echo through the room had the serenity of a servant of God.

“Welcome everyone. It has been a year since I received my appointment as Archbishop of this city. The road has not been easy, but with the help of the Lord and the collaboration of all of you, we have managed to happily overcome all the difficulties that have been presented to us so far. During this year we have defended in Istvan the glory of the Lord, who brought us a girl. I think we can be proud of it.”

After uttering those phrases almost without breathing, the archbishop was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes as if he were remembering all the efforts of that year and raised his face to the ceiling. Petros realized that this was not more than a theatrical gesture, but the audience seemed to understand it as one reaction of sincere religious piety. Some mature women even began to sob quietly in the excitement. Then, after checking that the entire room had gone completely silent, the archbishop opened his eyes again. Still smiling serenely, he raised his right arm to point to the small figure waiting at the base of the stage.

“Tonight I am moved to have the opportunity to express our appreciation to the person who made the rebirth of this city possible. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the heroine who freed Istvan from the evil monster! Our hope before the devils that threaten us! Sister Esther Blanchett, Saint of Istvan!”

As thunderous applause rose, the hesitant figure of the nun appeared, equipped with a microphone. Blinking because of the bright spotlights and shrugging, the girl looked tiny in the middle of the huge stage, as if she were just a child.

«She's just a poor kid…» Petros thought as he watched Esther walk across the stage. Come to think of it, the poor girl deserved his compassion for many reasons.First, because she belonged to the Ministry of Vatican Foreign Affairs, which was the lair of that witch, Caterina Sforza. Besides, she had to work with those agents, who had a horrible reputation of being sacrilegious. He couldn't imagine how she could lead a pious life as a nun between them.

Above all, the entire show that night had not been sought by her, but had been implicated by the surroundings of D'Annunzio. At her young age, being worshiped as a Saint and being commissioned to make a speech to such an audience could only be considered a misfortune.

“Uh... uh... Go... good night to every... Oh, no...! Good evening, la… ladies and gentlemen. It is an honor to introduce myself to you. I am Esther Blanchett. I do not have words to express my gratitude for this opera to be performed in my honor...”

While Il Ruinante looked at her with compassionate eyes, the nun had started babbling. The inquisitor’s heart cringed just to see how her forehead was beaded in sweat and how her blue eyes were moving full of insecurity. Trying to smile faintly, the young lady put on the table the script that the archbishop had given to her before. Just when she deployed the first pages and prepared to start reading... the tragedy happened.

“Ah!?”

The first thing that echoed through the speakers was a small groan. The pages of the script Esther was going to read flew across the stage.

“No!” Cried Petros, as the papers fluttered like leaves blown up in the wind.Had she forgotten to re-tie the rope that held the pages together? The nun was trying to pick them up in haste, but many had already fallen off the stage. The girl's tensed face had lost all traces of color. But Petros and the rest of the audience didn't have to hold their breath for long.

At first, the nun was so stunned that she couldn't even speak, it was natural.

Having to improvise a speech in front of such a crowd, and also being people of such power in society… Even a veteran politician would have found it difficult. How could it cost to a girl who had just turned eighteen?

In view of the events, no one would have criticized her if she had fled the stage. But the Saint did not.Biting her lip as if she had made up her mind, she rose to her feet, adjusting the hem of her habit. She was still a little pale, but a powerful light shone in her blue eyes. As if attracted by that look, the audience's attention was concentrated on the girl's face when she began to speak...

“I beg your pardon for my clumsiness… The fear of speaking in front of so many people has left me a little stunned…” Esther began in a vigorous, almost savage voice. “A play will be performed in my honor tonight and I want to express my enormous gratitude to you for taking the time to attend the performance”.

Was this the same nervous nun who had trembled a few minutes earlier? Esther addressed the audience with her head up, as if all the perplexity of before had disappeared.

“Well, to be improvising she does it very well...” Petros said to himself with admiration, as he looked for the archbishop with his eyes. At the backstage, D'Annunzio seemed to be more tense than before, but he was still looking at the young woman with a satisfied smile. As the nun had read the script before, a few as she remembered, things would go more or less as he had planned. Petros expected the same when he looked back at the girl. She would probably invoke God and the Vatican, would praise the courage of the combatants a year ago and call those present to remain united. If she said that, nothing would be noticed...

“Thank you all. That was my intention... But now I have changed my mind...”

It would take a long time for Petros to forget how the atmosphere in the room changed with just that short sentence.What she’s going to tell them!? Glancing to the backstage, he saw how the archbishop had stiffened, staring at the nun in amazement, as if observing a ceramic doll that had suddenly begun to speak.

Esther was not looking at the archbishop, but at the room full of spectators. In her pupils were reflected the innumerable puzzled faces that had been nailed to her. The audience seemed hypnotized by the words of the Saint, who whispered slowly: “I have come to pray with all of you for the souls of those who shed their blood in battle a year ago. For that I have returned here, to my city.” The voice was not overly powerful, but it completely dominated the room, where not a cough was heard. Without being too high or too low, it filled the air with a clean and serene feeling. It was the perfect example of a pleasant voice. As proof of this, when hearing her, Petros had completely forgotten that he had to go to the royal box, nothing further from his mind at the moment than to get away from there.

Il Ruinante had been lost in thought, listening to the flow of that voice.

“A year ago, we got a lot of blood flowing. Blood of our comrades, blood of our enemies… It was a horrible battle. But then I thought there was no other option. To survive you had to fight. We couldn't help but spilling that blood. In those moments it seemed that we were at a crossroads between life and death. Yes, that was really the situation. That's why we took up the sword... But now, a year later, I have the feeling that «there was no other option» is not a sufficient explanation for that fight...”

Esther was silent for a moment after the long speech. At the view of the girl closing briefly her eyelids to soak in those memories, Petros thought that this nun did not seem at all like the girl that he knew. More than someone alive, it recalled to the images of Saints that appeared in the murals and religious paintings of the cathedrals. When she opened her eyes again, a sweet but intense light shone on them. Looking at the audience, which was in absolute silence, she continued with a calm voice.

“During that battle I met one person... one person who back then was my enemy. He was the man I was trying to kill. But he also believed he had to kill to me to survive.”

Her expression could not be said to be very refined, nor the sound of the words to be very beautiful. In spite of this, there was nobody in the room that was not captivated by the voice of the Saint. None of those celebrities and distinguished people uttered a single word. They were all focused, listening to the girl, who kept talking as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“But it wasn't true, no one should have died; However, due to a misunderstanding, at first, both he and I thought that we had to kill ourselves to survive… And not only him. I believe that among those we killed and who killed us there were many like him. Many who laughed like us, cried like us. Many who we hated. All possibilities were destroyed by a misunderstanding.”

Perhaps it was the memory of that man that made a trace of suffering appear in the serene voice of the girl. The audience also felt the sting of that painful memory in their chest. Looking ahead, Esther spoke without hurrying, without forcing the words, penetrating every corner of the hearts of the attendees.

“Ladies and gentlemen, distrust yourselves. Be suspicious of justice. Maybe we are too simple. Be suspicious of your ideas about justice in the world. Are they really correct? Aren't they often just what we want to believe? Don't we impose them on our neighbor many times? Be suspicious. Mistrusting these issues is not bad.”

«Be suspicious of justice».

Hearing those words, the audience felt a slight shudder. Since the nun had started her speech, that was the first moment of doubt. The audience had been rapt with her until then, but little by little the audience began to come to their senses. Esther was not flustered by the change in the audience, so she pushed herself even harder in her speech, expressively moving her arms.

“It may be that these words make you sad. You may think that everything is false and that nothing is certain. God and justice are nothing more than mirages… But they are not. We can distrust, distrust and distrust, but something will always remain. There is always something that cannot be denied… For example, on a winter night like this, meeting with the whole family in front of the stove and feeling the warmth in the heart…” The families in the audience exchanged glances, as if encouraged by the girl's words.“Or look at the starry sky from a deserted meadow and feel how precious our little existence is...”

As to embrace to all those present, the nun extended the arms and continued talking, pretending this time caress the soul with the voice.

“Love of oneself and of neighbor ... that's what remains in the end. That is what makes me believe in God. Because God loves us and has given us these gifts. So let's pray together. Let us pray for all the blood that was shed and the souls of all the fallen… Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.” “Amen.”

Although they had wanted to rehearse it before, the response of those present would not have come out more conjoined. It seemed they had coordinated not only the breathing, but even the pulse. The echo of those words had scarcely been consumed when a thunderous round of applause went up. The ovation did not diminish after the nun finished bowing in thanks. After the archbishop's speech, the audience had remained seated, but Esther's words made everyone in attendance stand up to cheer her on. Even Petros, seeing the reaction from the room, was unable to suppress a cry of admiration.

“And she's just a little girl… What a charisma!”

N: A very old Petros’s coloring ;)

Just with the dubious name of Saint, the girl had managed to move more than a thousand people. This was not normal. Thinking ahead, Petros felt a slight concern.

If the artificial Saint that D'Annunzio and Borgia wanted to make was added that ability to attract the public, the potential of the girl was not negligible. If she developed her career under Sforza's guidance, she would be a formidable opponent for Cardinal Medici and his followers...

“Hey you! Where do you think you are going!? This is not the time for that yet!”

Those reproachful words that came from the base of the stage brought the warrior monk to his senses. Turning, he saw a Guard soldier in his gray-blue uniform arguing with someone carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Probably wanted to give it to the Saint. The one who carried the bouquet was a young adolescent. From the daring evening dress she was wearing, she seemed to be the daughter of one of the attendees. However, her dark skin and pronounced features were a rare combination in these lands. Her eyes were slanted and her pupils a stunning amethyst color.The soldier holding her in the gray gloves began to speak in an increasingly harsh voice.

“Didn't you hear me? If you want to give the Saint a bouquet of flowers, you have to wait for her to come down from the stage. Go back to your seat and stay still.” “Stand aside,Terran!”

The young woman slightly moved the arm that the other was holding, It seemed a only symbolic gesture, but what happened then was anything but that.

The soldier, who was six feet tall and weighed a hundred kilos, flew off incredibly and slammed his face against the wall. The impact must have made him pass out. The horrible noise of his nose breaking was the only thing that accompanied his collapse to the ground.

The scene did not go unnoticed. Muffled shouts of astonishment began to be heard from the audience, and in the box of honor the cardinals had risen with tense faces. However, Petros wasted no time in observing the reactions of the attendees, because he had noticed that the young woman had too long canines between her lips...

“No! Get away from her you all!” Shouted Il Ruinante, wielding with each hand the screamers that he wore on his waist. “She is not human! Is a…!” “Nice to meet you, Terrans. My name is Shahrazad and I come from the True Human Empire…” said the girl, with a voice as beautiful as a bell, but at the same time full of defiant force.

As the bouquet of flowers was dropped, the long jeweled gloves she wore began to glow. Leaning them against the wall, the girl, or rather the vampire, looked directly at Esther, who made no sign of wanting to flee.

“This evening I come to see the killer who you call the Saint... and to kill her!”

With a thud, the wall began to crumble, looking like a spiderweb.

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And this is it my dear friends, I hope you have enjoyed this and the new Petros’ coloring I added. I tried hard not to include personal notes in the translation, because I love Petros so much and I was like reacting to everything that happened to him. Maybe that’s the reason I love this arc so much XD I want to thank you a lot for your patience, for those who still support this and help me out with it, and to those who share the love by rebloging and liking this. I truly apreciate that. See you soon on the next part, stay tunned because the best part is next to come. Please stay safe and healthy <3

#TrinityBlood #TrinityBloodNovels #fan translation #fan coloring #manga panel coloring #abel nightroad #esther blanchett #caterina sforza #brother petros #ROM IV #chapter 1 #part 2

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