#what an antidote for the hope of surprise and wonder

[sleepnoises]

saw a blurb for a potentially interesting fantasy series but it was just seanan mcguire writing under a different pen name again!!

[saphronethaleph]

Obscure Legends Reference Bingo

“So how come you got the medal, anyway?” Biggs asked, grinning, and punched Luke in the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Luke replied. “I said you and Wedge should get them too. That was great cover you guys gave, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He sighed. “I had this… feeling, while you were behind me. Like nothing was going to go wrong. And even when you left, I was sure that I’d do it. I couldn’t describe how, but it felt…”

“It felt like you could feel what was going to happen, right?” Biggs asked. “I could feel that too, I thought I was imagining it.”

Luke nodded, then frowned, then glanced up at Biggs.

“What could you feel?” he asked.

“It was… there was darkness, behind you,” Biggs replied. “Chasing you. Trying to destroy you. And I could feel when shots were going to go past me and not hit you, and I could feel when they were going to go past me and hit you. And… I tried to stay back as far as possible, so they couldn’t get past you, and when a shot was going to hit you, I let it hit me instead.”

He glanced towards the hangar. “Which is why my X-wing’s missing most of a wing. Sorry I couldn’t stay with you the whole way.”

“You did what you could, and that was more than enough,” Luke said. “Tatooine boys forever, right?”

“You bet, Luke!” Biggs agreed. “Man, I’m going to have to tell you how I got here… who would have thought it, right?”

He paused, and Luke knew why.

A voice had just touched their awareness.

Someone is here at last.

“Who said that?” Biggs asked. “Luke?”

“Not me, and that didn’t sound like Obi-Wan,” Luke replied.

He closed his eyes, focusing, trying to draw on the memory of what that contact had felt like.

Can you hear me?

“I heard that,” Biggs said, amazed. “That was you, Luke?”

“That was me,” Luke agreed.

Yes, a voice replied. If you can hear me… I need help. I’ve waited so long for someone sensitive to the Force to come to this moon. You need to contact the Jedi Order and have them send a Padawan.

Luke and Biggs exchanged confused looks.

What’s a Padawan? Luke replied, homing in on the thing he absolutely did not understand.

...hmm, the voice said, thoughtfully. If you don’t know that… how old are you?

“Weird question,” Biggs muttered.

Nineteen, Luke sent back, finding it easier every time. Or, I am. Biggs is older. But… the Jedi Order doesn’t exist any more. I only learned how to do this a few days ago and Biggs I think found out yesterday?

“The day before,” Biggs answered the question. “I first realized it when I was out finding an antidote for an illness Hobbie Klivan had – it’s his X-Wing you were flying, Luke.”

Nineteen, nineteen… the voice said. And you’re humans… well, I have to hope it will do. Come to this temple, please – as soon as possible.

Luke and Biggs exchanged glances as a location impressed itself into their mind.

“I can’t fly until my fighter’s repaired,” Biggs pointed out.

“I’m not technically part of the Rebellion yet, I think,” Luke replied. “Hold on, I’ll ask Han for a lift…”

“So where have you been?” Leia asked, some hours later, as the Millennium Falcon’s ramp lowered. “You know everyone else is busy, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “But this was important.”

Leia’s gaze flicked across to the small, furry animal on his shoulder.

“A pet is important?” she asked.

“No,” the pet replied. “But freeing the souls of an entire race’s children – that is important, and it is what they have done.”

Biggs sniggered.

“Yeah, this was a surprise to us, too,” he said, throwing an arm around Luke. “Turns out nineteen does technically count as a child for the purposes of Sith Magic.”

“...so, you talk?” Leia asked.

“I certainly do,” the animal agreed. “Jedi Master Ikrit, at your service – I am a Kushiban, in case you are wondering. I would be delighted to help teach these two how to use their powers, and-”

“Ikrit?” General Dodonna repeated. “Jedi Master Ikrit?”

He looked completely poleaxed. “You were on snack toys before the Clone Wars! I distinctly remember saving one of them for a nephew!”

“Oh, dear…” the Kushiban said, ears flicking a little. “That is… not precisely the impression I would have expected to make…”

[willowed-wisp]

THE WAYWARD AND THE WARDEN - part two

previous | next

Cregan Stark x female!OC/x reader

WARNINGS: swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, injury, blood

“Why is he always like that?”

“Lord Cregan doesn’t like change and unlucky for you, you were a southerner found beyond the Wall,”

“That wouldn’t be a wall of ice… would it?”

They continued walking, “One and the same,” Elysa’s tone hushed, “You’re not a wilding, that’s for sure… so how did you manage to go beyond?”

The girl shrugged, “I can’t remember anything before I woke up in snow,” Twas a blatant lie but was still unaware of what caused her to be there.

Or how she were to return back to Scotland.

A week passed.

Maester Samn had been efficient in his endeavours to teach the girl before he returned back to Oldtown- the place where he and Maester Kennet trained in their fields of expertise.

Philippa knew the different antidotes… and the poisons. Winterfell was in capable hands. After the Maester left, the girl would treat many in an office where she brewed cures and draughts for ailments.

Whether she treated direwolf bites, a ‘rare’ occurrence but she had seen a couple in that month, to sword fights- the main cause of injury that plagued the castle and the Wintertown below it.

All the while, intense eyes lingered on her every move… he said he would. He was called the ‘Warden of the North’. A namesake he was living up to.

Philippa had been there a month- it had been bliss. Stark hadn’t bothered her and she hadn’t seen him.

The door barged open without a knock nor a warning, “Could you knock next time?” Her back faced the person while she rifled through shelves for the book she looked for- she may have been a fast learner but that knowledge needed reinforcing. “Awfully rude,” her brown hair swung behind her back as she faced the man. Dropping her book as she realised, “Lord Stark…”

Without a shred of doubt, he crouched- picking it up and placing the hefty piece of literature in her arms, “I’m impressed you can carry that…”

“You’ll make a northerner out of me yet, my Lord,” she gave a sweet smile- not as afraid of him as she once was, “What did you wanna discuss? It’s quite late…” Her voice slipped back to the dialect of her time. Hoping he hadn’t noticed.

He remained close, as he had when she arrived in Winterfell. Warmth spread her face- hoping it wouldn’t give away how he made her feel, “I was wondering if you remembered anything. How you found yourself… wayward, beyond the Wall,” more of a demand not a question.

“Maester Samn said I have memory sickness… it can take anywhere from days to years for somebody to regain their memory,” The man - wolf - glared down at her.

She was sorely mistaken about his eyes being brown… in candlelight they looked like orange ice. The only things Philippa looked at when taking the steps back while he moved forward, until she had nowhere else to escape. Thighs meeting the wooden desk, hands bracing the edge as he toppled over her. A surge of electricity flashed between her thighs, as his neck craned delving ever so close to her face. Stopping.

“I invite the day when you do remember… must’ve hit your head hard or something else did…” His eyes dropped lower to her body… surely not. Before sucking in a breath and backing away. “If your memories return, don’t hesitate to tell me.” Almost sheepishly he left, shutting the door with a softness.

Philippa melted on the desk, “Fucking hell…” his stench lingered… a winter-bitten crackling log fire of the wolf.

That smell… she’d never felt at such ease… ever since her parents were alive…

Maybe something or someone had sent her to this place.

A few births here and stitches there, all while Lord Cregan Stark sauntered around her- suspicion driven.

It had been like that for another month. Winter roared, harsher than Scottish winters- even in the misted highlands.

But that night, it was brutal. Philippa sprinted in the gathered snow- guided by the torches; surprised they withstood such weather. A force- not the wind - grappled her shoulders, a scream muzzled in her throat. Eyes agape as was her mouth, “My Lord?” He looked worse for wear, “Can you manage the walk to my rooms?” A grunt the only response she needed.

It wasn’t easy but she managed to get the beast of the man on her personal bed. And she hurried, most of the damage was to his middle- slashing through that diamond-layered armour, “You don’t look hopeful,” she shook her head, as he winced while the alcohol-drenched cotton lapped across deep scratches.

“It’s not that, we’re gonna have to get the armour off. It’s blocking the wound so I can’t sterilise properly.”

A grin on his lips, “If you wanted to see me naked- you could’ve just asked…” In one swift action the armour was off and she just stared. “You did want me naked…” a jest. Probably pain induced.

“I prefer this side of you, My Lord, instead of watching my every move…” She could get a good look, “Direwolf?”

He shook his head, veins in his jaw tensing. “Shadowcats… then the bandits,” a worried look on her face, “You should see them…” There were no stab marks- a fair bit of dark purpled blackness around his ribs. As she made quick work of a lot of stitches.

“Where were your men?” Silence from the man, subconsciously she pressed down with too much force- he grumbled. “You’re a fool for going alone… anybody else would be dead…”

He marvelled at her, sucking in breath as she motioned for him to sit up. Her hand on his shoulder- levying the bulked weight, “The wayward woman has grown a voice…” A howl followed from the man, a curse thereafter. As she tightened the stitches- having finished. Cregan panted, cold sweats settling in.

His hand, rough and large on her arm- feverish while his unkempt, loose locks rested on her shoulder. A soft hand at his hairline, “That should be the worst of it, my Lord-,”

“I’m naked in your bed, call me Cregan…” Anybody else would have succumbed to the injuries then and there or the journey back… but he was formidable. “Your hands are far more gentle than Samn’s, and I welcome your face.” He tried to sit up, forced down by her hands.

She tutted at him, “Rest. You’ll break the stitches,” Philippa was stern as he rested against her.

A low chuckle, “Is that an order?” She shifted, bolstering him on pillows. Finding the plants and oils for pain relief. Not wanting to give him milk of the poppy.

“What if it is?” She smiled at him.

“I like a woman who can give out orders,” She couldn’t get enough of his smile, her own lips upturned.

She ground down herbs and natural oil in the pestle and mortar, “Would you even listen if it had been?”

A nod, his hair a hot mess. “Then it’s an order, Cregan,” a spark in the blue of his eyes only after hearing her speak his name. Not ‘my Lord’ or ‘Lord Stark’… just his name.

The mixture was like a paste- perfect.

She brought her fingers- coated in dark green, “Your ribs will do the healing on their own but I can help soothe the pain,” caught in his gaze, “Three, two-,” she skipped the ‘one’ and he tensed- nostrils squeezed and teeth gritted. While Cregan’s hand grabbed onto her free one- a vice-like grip.

Intrusive thoughts pondered what he would feel like draping her thigh over his broad-set shoulder.

She shivered at the thought- lips numbed. Philippa got back to work, “I’m sorry if that was too rough,” even after the application- she was tied there at his beside by his reach.

Cregan’s head buried in Philippa’s pillow, “Unless you’re a shadowcat or a bandit don’t apologise. You have a soft touch,” his thumb rubbed across the top of her hand- just the once, “I would be a deadman if not for those hands…”

“I’m well practiced with stitching,” from a young age she had stitching kits- practice kits. Her mother had a great deal of influence; an orthopaedic surgeon. Philippa hadn’t looked back from her goal.

But that no longer mattered- her dreams.

She wasn’t on Earth and her mother was dead.

“Well… I was right to hire you…” Gaze solely on her. But Philippa couldn’t hold that stare forever as he yawned.

“Do you wanna go to sleep?” A weak nod- not letting go of her hand still, “I’ll make camp on the settee.”

“You speak in the strangest of ways, I will not throw a lady out of her bed,” she dropped the hand, feeling uncomfortable by what that stood for. After all of the animosity… why was he being so nice now? Cregan went to get up but she push him down again.

She shook her head, “Stay in the damned bed, like I said I’ll sleep on the chair. It won’t be my first time.”

“I wouldn’t be a very noble Lord if I took a woman’s bed, especially since I owe her my life.”

“You’re the one who had three gaping holes in their body ” A slight northern tinge came out of her mouth, “stay in the bed!”

That same chuckle, “True words of a northerner…”

She was frustrated, “You’re being so nice to me after despising my very existence for two months… I don’t get you,” His fingers caught her wrist, dragging her closer so she was sat on the bed. Cregan failed to hid that agony.

“You could’ve left me out there to die, but you didn’t. I was wrong about you,” He paused.

She interjected, “And what did you think about me?”

“That you were sent by something to test me… a southern girl beyond the Wall, you don’t hear that every century,” there was a kindness behind those eyes.

“You thought I’d be your doom?”

His head shook again, resting up on his strong arms. She protested being silenced by a gentle peck on her lips. A speckle of snow. “I dragged you myself, to the Wall…”

“Do you always make such reckless decisions?” His hand cusped at her jaw, searching the others’ soul.

“Only since I laid eyes on you,” she was consumed by him. Making sure to lead somewhat so he wouldn’t tear the stitches. Only she, it seemed, could steer Cregan Stark in the opposing direction. But when their mouths were concerned he dominated- a starved man. And Philippa a wanting woman.

She would thwart his attempts to move her to his lap. Not that her body didn’t tingle in anticipation, her core running hot when his fingers threaded her hair- angling her to delve deeper.

No distance was too close… all too faraway for the Warden of the North.

Nothing would be the same for the pair.

And Philippa wished that she wasn’t taken away from Westeros, as her heart bloomed. Emotions running rife.

Laid beside the man, coming to a compromise, she knew leaving his side would never be an option.

Both too stubborn to give up on that sprinkling of happiness; having not felt truly content in years.

[joeliz99]

Remus Lupin- Beneath the Surface

Remus Lupin

Marauders Era

Year 1977 (Sixth Year at Hogwarts)

(Y/N) Bristol had always been a focused young woman with very few friends. While many of her peers spent their time goofing off or falling in love, she meticulously set goals for her future. That’s why working on a poison antidote essay with Remus Lupin didn’t seem like a great idea. The brown-haired boy was associated with Sirius Black, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew, who always seemed to be in trouble or seeking attention. This group of boys disliked following rules or apologizing for their mistakes; they were simply reckless. Therefore, it was understandable that the young woman was reluctant to be paired with the sixth-year student.

However, over the course of their meetings, (Y/N) realized that Remus Lupin was much more than he appeared when surrounded by his friends. He was shy and reserved, respectful in his interactions, and incredibly intelligent. But to be fair, everyone knew that. The now-prefect of Gryffindor House was always on the list of top students in most of their subjects. She was also on that list, of course, but she often went unnoticed.

Up until now, Remus had acknowledged her existence only a few times, and he occasionally wondered how he hadn’t paid more attention to her before. (Y/N) always seemed to have answers for everything. She was prudent, serene, and genuine, truly herself. Talking to her felt like taking a breath of fresh air—an experience he could repeat over and over.

Sitting on the clock tower’s courtyard, they discussed trivial matters while adding final touches to the essay they had been working on for the past two weeks. She held a parchment and quill, while Remus had several books resting on his lap.

“So, what do you want to do after you leave Hogwarts?” The girl glanced up from her parchment when she heard the question.

“I definitely want to be a Healer. It’s been a dream of mine since I was little.”

“Can I ask why?” Remus inquired curiously, leaning back on his arms.

“My grandfather was a Healer until recently. From a young age, I saw how passionate he was about his career and how many people he helped with his knowledge. I loved sitting with him in the afternoons and hearing about his workday. I want to help as many people as he did and never forget to be empathetic or humble with my roots.” A smile appeared on Remus’s face upon hearing this, and (Y/N) mirrored his expression with a small smile of her own. “What about you?”

“Um... Honestly, I’m still not sure what I want to do when I leave here. Maybe teaching? I don’t know.” He shrugged dismissively. “I hope to have a clearer idea before we graduate.”

“I’m sure you will. Don’t worry too much about it.” The young woman responded before continuing with the next question. “How did you get all those marks on your body?”

“What?” The boy’s brow furrowed, and his body tensed immediately—a reaction that did not go unnoticed by (Y/N), who instantly regretted asking the question.

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked that. Let’s move on to...”

“Wait, (Y/N),” Remus interrupted. “It’s nothing. You just caught me by surprise...” His mind wandered for a few moments, trying to figure out how to answer the question while sounding truthful. “I’ve always been clumsy. My parents always had to keep an eye on me because turning away for a second meant I’d end up hurting myself. We thought it would stop when I grew up, but it didn’t.” He shrugged and avoided her gaze, knowing that if he looked her in the eye, she would know he wasn’t being entirely honest. “I got these latest ones a few days ago playing with the guys near the Whomping Willow.” He rolled up one of his sleeves to reveal several healing wounds. “But they’re healing, so that’s good.”

“You shouldn’t go near the Willow,” (Y/N) frowned, scrutinizing the young man’s arm. “It’s dangerous, and next time the results could be much worse.” Remus laughed awkwardly at this and nodded.

“I think we’ve figured that out by now…”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Go ahead.” (Y/N) seemed to think carefully about what she was going to say, and after a few moments, she dared to speak.

“You’re very different from your friends... Before we started this project, I judged you based on everything I’d seen and heard about you, especially from Sirius and James. Why would you want to spend your time with them? Besides the fame and attention that comes with it, what else could you gain from such a friendship?” Remus sighed upon hearing this and took a moment to process what the girl had just said.

“They can be many things, but they’re still my friends... And you’re right, I’m not like them and I don’t agree with everything they do, but they’re important to me. The guys have supported me in my darkest moments when no one else could. We’re inseparable, so if one gets into trouble, the rest do too. It may sound silly, but that’s how we are, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” He shrugged and looked at (Y/N). “When you get to know them, you realize they’re much more than they seem, just like with me. You should give them a chance; you’d get along well with them.”

“I don’t know, Remus.” (Y/N) sighed, turning her gaze back to the parchments in her hands. “What they did to Severus Snape wasn’t right. And let’s be real, I’m not much different from him. What makes you think they wouldn’t do the same to me?”

“Because I wouldn’t let something like that happen. Besides, the situation is completely different. Not that I’m defending them—never would I do that—but there’s been a rivalry between them and Severus for years.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better, to be honest...” She sighed. “Let’s just forget about it and finish this, it’s getting dark.”

Remus nodded in agreement to not press the issue further, and they spent the rest of the hour solely finishing the work. The next day, both students handed in the essay to Professor Slughorn, and as class ended, they began to gather their things in silence.

“It was nice working with you.” (Y/N) broke the silence after a few seconds. “You know I’m here if you ever need me.”

Remus looked at her upon hearing this and nodded, unsure of how to respond due to the nerves overtaking him.

“Yeah, same.” He managed to articulate, and the girl smiled awkwardly, finishing gathering her things.

“See you later, Remus.” She smiled one last time and left the classroom, leaving behind a blushing and embarrassed Remus.

“You’re such an idiot.” A voice came from beside him, and when he turned his head, he found James grinning at him mockingly. “Is that how you say goodbye, my dear Moony? I thought you were more polite.”

“Shut up, James.” The brown-haired boy rolled his eyes, leaving the classroom with his friends trailing behind him and laughing at his embarrassment.

“You should ask her out without using work as the perfect excuse,” Sirius commented this time, wrapping his arm around Remus’s shoulders once he caught up with him. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is, and that’s exactly why I’m not asking her out.”

“Oh, come on, Remus. What’s wrong with having a date with Bristol? You should relax and enjoy yourself a bit.” James interjected again.

“Do I really need to remind you why doing that is a bad idea?” He stopped abruptly, his muscles tensing at the thought of the disastrous possibilities if he lost control near her or anyone else. “It’s a risky move, and she’s too curious... She asked me about the marks on my body yesterday, and I had to lie because I had no other option.”

“Remus, mate...” James sighed, glancing at his friends before speaking. “We’ve got it under control, okay? No one needs to find out or get hurt. We’ll keep doing things the way we have been, and that’s that. Ask her out! You’ve got nothing to lose.”

“And if you don’t like it, just don’t do it again, simple as that. If you want, we can do a group outing to make you feel more comfortable,” Peter added this time, and Sirius nodded, smiling.

“No. That’s definitely not happening.” Remus shook his head repeatedly, clutching the books he was carrying even tighter. “Just... I’ll think about it, okay? I’m not promising anything.”

“Well, that’s better than a no.” Sirius laughed, ruffling the brown-haired boy’s hair, which he swatted away with a complaint. "Don’t make us do it for you, Moony.”

“Whatever. Let’s get going. We’ll be late for Transfiguration class.” He fixed his hair back into place, and his friends laughed, following him as they greeted everyone in the hallways and raced to see who would reach the next classroom first.

The following days passed without any new events. Remus still hadn’t mustered the courage to ask (Y/N) out, so he had settled for small talk with her during Potions class or greeting her in the hallways. His friends hadn’t stopped pressuring him about it, just as they were now, seeing the Ravenclaw girl enter the Great Hall. Remus’s cheeks were red, as always when the subject came up, and his heart raced at the thought of her possible rejection. Since hitting puberty at Hogwarts, he had been accustomed to attention from girls. Not many approached him, but some did. However, he had never even considered having more than a cordial conversation with them. The reasons were endless—starting with the fear of what his nature could provoke, then the little interest he had, and of course, his shy nature. With (Y/N) it was different; being near her was appealing. Conversations flowed naturally, silences were comfortable, and neither of them felt the need to put on an act to impress the other. Even though a part of his mind kept repeating how bad an idea it was to ask her out, there was another part that urged him to take the plunge. Taking a deep breath, he stood up from the table and, ignoring his friends’ comments, walked toward the end of the Ravenclaw table where the girl was seated, already preparing a plate of food. When he arrived, he cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets to hide his nerves, while (Y/N) turned to look at him.

“Hi...” Remus smiled shyly, trying not to pay attention to the curious eyes watching him at the Ravenclaw table.

“Remus.” (Y/N) smiled back. “How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” He hurried to say, feeling his face warm up again and his stomach flutter as if hundreds of butterflies were inside him. “Listen... I was thinking that our next trip to Hogsmeade is coming up, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a butterbeer and a chat...”

“Oh.” (Y/N) swallowed hard at the proposition, feeling instantly nervous. Was he inviting her on a date?

“You don’t have to say yes.” Remus rushed to add, noticing her reaction. “You probably have better plans, and I don’t...”

“I do want to go.” She interrupted him to prevent him from continuing. “Sorry for reacting that way. I usually go to Hogsmeade alone, so you caught me by surprise.” She smiled faintly without breaking eye contact, even though she could feel her nerves showing.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” Remus laughed, scratching his neck, and (Y/N) nodded. “How about we meet in front of the carriages at nine in the morning, and then we can take one together? I promise it’ll just be you and me. I know the guys can be overwhelming sometimes, and we don’t want that.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.” (Y/N)’s smile widened a bit more.

“Great, then I’ll let you eat. See you on Friday.”

“See you on Friday... And thank you for inviting me.”

“No problem...” Remus smiled again and waved before turning and heading back to the Gryffindor table with a sense of happiness and excitement he could hardly contain. He couldn’t believe it...

He was going on a date with (Y/N) Bristol!

[jadelotusflower]

So I finally watched Andor...

...and naturally I have thoughts (hey, it’s me). Maybe they're belated, seeing as this show was released almost two years ago, but I've been on the outskirts of the Star Wars fandom for a while now. This in and of itself isn't usual - I tend to drift between my core fandoms in phases, but since TLJ the GFFA hasn't really been a pleasant place to be so I haven't really had a reason to drift back to it for any length of time.

Which isn't to say I've avoided Star Wars altogether, dipping in when something piques my interest like Obi-Wan Kenobi (which I liked aspects of but ultimately felt like just a setup to the show I actually wanted to watch), and have absorbed some of the rest through cultural osmosis. Andor is a show I've been meaning to get to for a while, although it has been praised to the point of being overhyped (and there was a whiff of Not Like Other Star Wars to the critical reception) so I was concerned it would not meet expectations.

But I was pleasantly surprised as how much this show felt spiritually and aesthetically in tune with the original trilogy, and especially A New Hope, as opposed to Disney!Star Wars. Even if the tone and content of Andor is very different, it feels in conversation with the OT in a way the rest of Disney’s output has not - building on the story we already know, rather than trying replace or rewrite it as something else.

Aesthetically, we have the 70's vibe of the set design and costuming in middle-class Coruscant, the stark white jumpsuits and surrounds of Narkina 5 evoking Lucas's early film THX-1138, even the way we are plopped right into the middle of the story with very little exposition, but still eased into the narrative is very reminiscent of the first act of A New Hope. Thematically, of course we’re seeing the Rebellion in its earlier stages - small disparate cells of seditious activity directly acting against Imperial interests that will become the somewhat ragtag but nonetheless organised and unified Alliance.

While Star Wars was a cinema pastiche throwback to Flash Gordan serials and Campbell’s hero’s journey as an antidote to the grimdark antiheroes of the 70’s, in many ways Andor brings things back full circle to the grit of neo-noir. It holds a mirror up to the OT and lets us see the other side of the coin - and the full cost of victory. So many people have to die for Cassian to make it to the Rebellion - just like Cassian himself will die for the Death Star plans to make it to Leia, like Obi-Wan will die to ensure those plans make it to the Rebellion, and squadrons of rebel pilots will die so Luke can ultimately destroy the Death Star.

A stone is dropped in a pond, and we see the ripples but the stone itself sinks.

Overall thoughts

Tony Gilroy is the showrunner here, a veteran screenwriter notable for the Bourne films, and we can certainly see this influence at work. He also wrote The Devil’s Advocate, which is by no means good but I do enjoy in all its ott mythological monologues-and-accents glory, and seminal romcom (of my childhood at least) The Cutting Edge. He also wrote and directed Michael Clayton, which I have not seen but was nominated for several Oscars, including Original Screenplay, Director, and Best Picture (Tilda Swinton won for Supporting Actress).

Of course he's also a credited screenwriter on Rogue One, and I understand his contribution was mostly to the infamous rewrites/reshoots. I desperately want to read a full breakdown/bts of what went down with that film (well all of Disney-led Lucasfilm really) and see the deleted/original material, because I am fascinated. It's also interesting to note that Gilroy took over showrunning duties from Stephen Schiff pre-production. The show does very much feel like Gilroy wanted to make his own stamp on the Andor character and use him as a vehicle in his spy-thriller/political intrigue wheelhouse.

Reading some of Gilroy’s comments around the series had made me wonder how much of Andor being reflective/referential to the OT was intentional (on his part at least), and arguably Gilroy did overwrite the character of Cassian Andor so…there’s nuance. But as a story, to me it felt in tune with what I love about Star Wars rather than at odds with it, and that's what I appreciated most.

But first things first. B2EMO made it to the end! Finally, my expectations are subverted in a good way, because I love this little droid with all my heart. There are several key elements of Star Wars to me that separate it from other sci-fi/space fantasy and that is Jedi, distinctive aliens, and sentient droids. Obviously there's no Jedi here (nor does there need to be), my issues with the lack of aliens I'll address below, but when it comes to droids B2EMO fits right in, and we can assume is a precursor to Cassian's relationship with K-2SO.

Overall I thought the show was excellent (with a few caveats). What's impressive is the sheer number of characters and plots interwoven together, every conversation servicing character, the overall theme or setting something up that will pay off later, playing with coincidence and fate (the will of the Force), the interlocking domino effect. Arvel Skeen recognising the tattoo on Cassian's arm leads to a conversation of his history, but also sets up Skeen later offering to take and split the haul with Cassian (and getting killed for it). The raid on Aldhani triggers the Empire’s harsh new measures that gets Cassian sentenced to six years in prison, but also inspires the rebellion on Ferrix (via Maarva). The Aldhani heist is a triumph for Vel, but traps Mon’s financial contributions to the Rebellion by the Empire’s crackdown on banking, leading her and her daughter into an unwanted family alliance.

I'm a big proponent of Star Wars Dialogue is Good, Actually - not saying there's not clunkers or stilted scenes (the PT moreso than the OT) but there seems to be this weird consensus that Lucas-era dialogue sucks despite being some of the most quoted/referenced movies of all time. Lucas was creating a modern myth, of course a lot of it is arch and operatic. I love the dialogue in Andor too - which rightly gets high praise, and while it's arguably tighter, in many ways it's no more naturalistic than that of the Saga with everyone constantly speaking in metaphor, it's just pitched differently because this is a different genre (and the acting is uniformly excellent because they are actually interacting with each other and being competently directed).

There’s layers of meaning in almost every scene and subtle moments of foreshadowing that I really enjoy - Karis Nemik muses on the role of mercenaries in a rebellion that must use every tool and weapon at its disposal, and obviously Cassian starts out as that mercenary who will be pulled into the wider struggle, but this also foreshadows the importance of Han Solo - at first only out for the promise of a reward but ultimately instrumental in bringing the Empire down. But it’s not because he’s treated as a tool - as the Empire treats its workforce as tools - but because he’s treated as worthwhile, he’s valued as a person. The Empire casts people out while the Rebellion draws them in.

We also see this in the arc on Narkina 5, and the Empire’s tightening grip backfiring against them. In order to force the prisoners to speedily produce parts for the Death Star they work in close-knit teams, creating a close camaraderie ultimately allowing them to escape - because when you turn people into cogs of a machine, the machine can be turned back against you. Contrast this to the jockeying over position and territory and power in the ISB - they serve the Empire, but never at personal cost.

We see the Republic of affiliated systems from the PT turn into an Empire of conquered planets, where local cultures are subsumed into homogeneous Imperial rule. Even Corpsec is replaced by Imperial oversight, and we know that the Senate on Coruscant will be dissolved completely in ANH. But ultimately this ferments rebellion and unites the outcast and oppressed - the Keredians on Narkina 5 hate the Empire for their prison polluting the waterways, and so let Cassian and Melchi go. Cinta’s whole family was killed by stormtroopers turning her single minded focus to destroying them. The people of Ferrix respond to Maarva’s call and riot against the Imperial forces even though it will mean violent reprisal.

The Empire forges the weapons that will be used against them. As Nemik’s manifesto states: “The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear.”

And yet we're not there yet - it's important that this is still a Rebellion and not an Alliance, a disparate collection of segmented sedition with a myriad of agendas we see run by Saw Gerrara, Anton Kreegyr, Luthen Rael. They won't be a genuine threat to the Empire until they join forces, share resources and intelligence, and unite behind a collective goal. Although there may be sacrifices in this as well - Separatists, Partisan Front, Sectorists etc mentioned by Saw will either coalesce under the Alliance to Restore the Republic or be driven further to the fringes.

The thrust of Nemik's manifesto is that freedom is a natural state of being, while oppression is unnatural, and even though Andor has nothing to do with the Jedi it nonetheless echoes their philosophy: that the Force is in a natural state of balance, while the existence of the Sith who tap into the Dark Side upset this balance. As we see in Return of the Jedi, the balance is ultimately restored by the return to that natural state buffeted by the most powerful forces - friendship, love, sacrifice - forces that ultimately drive Cassian as well. While much has been said of the moral ambiguity and nuance of Andor, it's not incongruent with the OT, if anything it reinforces its power and message.

HOWEVER, I have my nits to pick - the lack of aliens is a serious flaw (and in particular, the lack of familiar aliens). In some cases they can get away with it and make subtle commentary - Coruscant is stark and grey as the centre of bureaucracy in stark contrast to the vibrant metropolis of the PT. Seeing the streets populated almost exclusively by humans where once it was a melting pot underscores the Empire’s segregationist policies. However the dearth of non-humans elsewhere - Ferrix, Aldhani, even the prison labour camp Narkina 5 - is disconcerting. These are places meant to depict the oppressive rule of the Empire and this undermines the strength of the rebellion as a group of diverse species fighting against the Imperial monoculture. It's odd, for example, that we see all the characters from Ferrix return except Vetch, the muscle employed "just to stand there" by Nurchi (a nice moment with Cassian!), and that Maarva's funeral procession seems entirely human.

Ultimately, I think the setup is much stronger than the payoff, and while I appreciate the slow burn, the show does have sometimes have difficulty juggling the plots. Once set up, characters are parked waiting to be incorporated into the narrative (it feels like we watch Syril stare at his cereal forever) and looking back not much actually happens to a lot of them- there are a lot of threads left hanging and not much resolution. Which is of course because this was only intended to be season 1 of 5, with each arc a year of Cassian’s life leading up to Rogue One. But sadly Andor has been given a second season only, leaving 12 episodes to wrap everything up, so ultimately I fear the show will feel like a slow setup and rushed conclusion, which is a real shame.

Cassian Andor

I’m went into this as someone who doesn’t really have a strong connection to Cassian as a character - I certainly liked him in Rogue One! But let’s just say he’s not my blorbo. And this not the backstory I would have expected for the character five years before Rogue One as someone who has “been in this fight since [he] was six years old.”

Diego Luna has such a charismatic presence and it is nice to have a more internal, insular character, but it’s kind of sad that Cassian is really the least developed character in a show ostensibly about him. It’s not really his story, but he’s the fulcrum (pun intended) around which most of the other characters pivot; this is a story of the rebellion of which he is just one part. So, I can see if Cassian fans may have been upset by his lack of focus, and I personally would have wanted to delve a bit deeper into Cassian Andor on a show called Andor, you know? And it does feel a little bit skeevy that the actual Axis (pun intended) of the show is Luthen in his middle age white man glory, with a whiff of Gilroy’s self-insert about him.

I do wish LFL would abandon simply naming their shows after the main character - presumably it’s for general audience recognition and algorithmic reasons, but my god how boring. If the show had been marketed as the ensemble it actually is I would take less issue with the lack of Cassian focus. But sadly I’m not sure we know that much more about Cassian at the end of the show than we did at the end of the first three episodes - or really, what it adds to his character and arc we see in Rogue One.

Yes he’s further radicalised by his experiences and is now presumably "all in" on the rebellion, but the events of the show are kicked off by Cassian searching for his sister which is a motivation that is all but dropped thereafter - although at one point I was half-expecting (dreading) it to be revealed that Luthen's assistant Kleya Marki was Kerri (and sidebar, Kleya - what a stone cold bitch! I love a stone cold bitch).

This plot will likely continue in season 2, but it felt a bit undercooked and too deep in the subtext given the prominence it had in kicking off the narrative. We get a flashback to Cassian’s childhood, but ultimately it feels like lipservice to his Indigenous heritage rather than true engagement since we don't see him reflect on it in any way, nor does it seem to have any impact on his choices throughout the series that seem primarily motivated by his life and relationships on Ferrix.

We get a strong start to Cassian and Luthen that peters out - he's intent on recruiting Cassian, but then writes him off when Cassian flees after Aldhani and wants him killed, then goes all the way to Ferrix for him, but is about to leave without actually doing anything? I know Luthen's meant to be ambiguous, but this is one area where plot is obviously driving things not character. I get that it was important for Cassian to be the one to go to Luthen at the end and choose the Rebellion unfetted, but the relationship is undercooked. I almost feel like the series is a procession of things that happen to Cassian rather than a journey I was on with him. There's external forces, but very little internal focus.

However, what I did love about the show was the thematic resonance that was happening on a macro and micro level - while the show as a whole is a mirror/reflection of the OT, we also see dichotomy in the character pairings that are mirrors and/or foils of each other in various ways - we have the two sides of the conflict being Empire and Rebellion (with Cassian stuck in the middle), and we are also shown conflict within those two sides.

Cassian is without a reflective character pairing because his true mirror is Jyn Erso, and seeing Cassian’s struggles here does give real weight to his “you’re not the only one who lost everything” speech - in many ways the show is his journey from being Jyn, to being the man who says to her “we don't all have the luxury of deciding when and where we want to care about something.”

Mon Mothma and Luthen Rael

The most obvious mirror/foil pair as the two sides of the Rebellion, although arguably we have a third prong in Saw Gerrara, and kind of a mirror in Luthen as Cassian’s mentor as Saw was Jyn’s - and I do wonder about the show that was a two-handed prequel with Cassian and Jyn growing up in different factions of the Rebellion, but alas.

The artifact Luthen gives Mon represents “a sun goddess and a serpent sharing the same mouth” representing their differing philosophical approach to fighting the Empire. As mirror characters they are alike in many ways - both of the privileged class and living double lives on Coruscant, but while Mon makes political efforts to move the needle on the Empire's activities in the Senate while also funneling money to direct but small rebel efforts, Luthen outright pokes the bear, sacrifices allies, and knowingly making things worse to swell the ranks of the rebellion on the hope it will speed up progress. There's more than a hint of the incrementalism/revolutionary dichotomy here.

It also raises a lot of interesting questions without (rightly) providing many answers - the struggle of the oppressed, the moral weight of insurgency and revolution. Is it right to intentionally provoke an oppressive power into reacting with violence in order to fuel a greater pushback against them? Is short term suffering justified if it achieves eventual victory, and is it right for the few to decide what is a justifiable sacrifice? What are our responsibilities to each other under the threat of/struggle against authoritarianism? As social commentary it's more timely than ever.

Whether Mon or Luthen is right for the viewer to decide, although as Leia tells Tarkin in ANH: "the more you tighten your grip, the more star systems will slip through your fingers." On the other hand, we know Mon survives to the end of the Empire while Luthen (I assume) will not. She will become a leading figure in the Alliance, and eventual Chancellor of the New Republic, while he will be another stone at the bottom of the pond.

This is foreshadowed in the dialogue (with a direct mirror reference):

“I’m condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else’s future. I burn my life, to make a sunrise that I know I’ll never see. No, the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror, or an audience, or the light of gratitude."

Arguably however, the mirror is the show - we are the audience.

We know Cassian joins Luthen at the end of season 1, and will meet Mon in season 2, so it will be interesting to see him struggle between these two philosophies, although we can infer from Rogue One that he aligns himself (out of necessity) with Luthen's veiwpoint:

"We've all done terrible things on behalf of the Rebellion. Spies, saboteurs, assassins....And every time I walked away from something I wanted to forget, I told myself it was for a cause that I believed in. A cause that was worth it. Without that, we're lost."

Ultimately, the Rebellion needs people like Luthen and Cassian to make not only the physical sacrifice, but the moral one as well (noting our first introduction to Cassian is him killing an informant so he can escape) - people who play the Empire's game so Luke can ultimately reject the Emperor's.

But I had mixed feelings on the Mon Mothma storyline. It feels a bit off for Luthen to be her entrée into the Rebellion, when we know she’s been on the ground from the very beginning with the Petition of the 2000 (cut from ROTS, but still canon I assume). She just felt very isolated and fragile which is at odds with her quiet steel that we see in Return of the Jedi and Rogue One. I could maybe see this Mon in the early dark days, but only 5 years before ANH? A scene with Bail Organa would not have gone amiss just to give breadth to her rebellious activities.

We get to see Luthen visit Saw Gerrara on Segra Milo, why not give Mon a scene with Bail to show she has other irons in the fire rather than relying on Luthen? In Saw we see the rough and tumble of disparate rebel factions, I would have liked to see the political machinations of Mon and Bail to serve the metaphor even further.

She is more than just a bank for the rebellion, and I think in the effort to contrast Luthen and Mon there was a bit of disservice done to the latter.

And Mon’s loser husband - ugh. Okay they’re in some kind of arranged marriage but there’s very little substance, nothing us particularly revealed about Mon by including him. Other than her cleverly using his gambling debts to deflect her rebellion spending at the end, the story wouldn’t really have changed by him not existing, and in fact would have been improved by focusing more on Mon’s difficult relationship with her daughter.

But on a purely shallow note, I want her wardrobe!

Dedra Meero and Syril Karn

In some ways Cassian and Syril are the narrative foils and there are parallels between them - their conflict instigated in the first episodes, their maternal relationships, both essentially exiles for the middle section before both end up back on Ferrix where Cassian saves Bix and Syril saves Dedra. But I feel Syril and Dedra work better as mirrors, and their arcs also parallel and intersect.

In the Empire, Dedra and Syril are two sides of the other coin (there's quite a few coins in this metaphor). Regimes need bureaucracy, and you have the true believers, the status-climbers, and those just going along to get along. In Dedra we have the talented star of the prestigious Imperial Security Bureau, and in Syril the over eager Corporate Security officer, two arms of the Empire’s control, although the latter we see becoming obsolete as the former gains more control.

But they're both middlemen who chafe against the inaction of their superiors, both desperate to rise above their station (although those stations are quite far apart). Throughout the series their plots are mostly in parallel; they are reflections of each other without even having met.

It's uncomfortable to watch both of them on screen - all unblinking stares, sucked in cheeks, and pursed lips - fittingly repellent. I’m surprised Gilroy has said he wrote Dedra to be relatable - she skeeved me out from the first, someone clearly ready to step over anyone and everyone if it served her purposes rather than someone gradually drawn further into an authoritarian regime. There's the slight subtext of sexism - there's only one other women in the ISB briefing and Pendergast alludes to it, but that certainly didn't engender any sympathy or admiration from me.

In episode 7 Syril’s mother Eedy says “Everything says something, Syril” and chastises him about tailoring his uniform (just as he did in the first episode, a neat little character tell), and immediately after we see Dedra donning her uniform perfectly in sync with the rest of the ISB. He’s trying to stand out from the crowd, she’s trying to fit in - or, from a different perspective, Syril adjusts his collar to resemble the Imperial style as a signifier of where he wants to be, while Dedra is already there and still looking higher.

But both are thinking outside the rigid Imperial lines and command structures, both on the hunt for Cassian - although for Syril it's personal and Dedra it's about climbing the ranks. Both take it upon themselves to investigate against orders, but Syril’s attempts are clumsy and random while Dedra’s are clinical and targeted.

She identifies that “systems either change or die” to push the ISB’s fragmented and bureaucratic inefficiencies into a cohesive power structure, but while it wins her approval it doesn’t earn her any loyalty; her troops abandon her to the mob on Ferrix. Inexplicably though, Syril does manage to gain the loyalty of Sergeant Mosk, who was also punished for the initial blunder on Ferrix, but ultimately draws Syril back there to in search of Cassian.

The point at which they first intersect in episode 8, Dedra is on an upswing, she holds the power and sends Syril further down, but when they meet again in episode 11, the roles are reversed as he is the one to save her from the mob.

I just hope they’re going somewhere more interesting than his creepy crush.

Vel Sartha and Cinta Kaz

One of the major faults of Rogue One was its Smurfette Syndrome, where Jyn is a great female character surrounded by men, but Andor has pleasingly course corrected from this. See what happens when you don’t have one woman having to embody everything and bear the weight of her entire gender in the narrative (and therefore, also bear the criticism)? Andor happily treats its women as characters, not faux-empowering meme-fodder. Although there is perhaps some valid commentary that it’s still white women on the whole - Dedra, Mon, Vel, Maarva - who get the meatier roles, and I have my issues with Mon’s characterisation, but one thing I will give Disney LFL credit for is it’s ongoing efforts towards gender parity.

In Vel and Cinta we have two more sides of insurgency - from wealth and privilege in Vel, the cousin of Mon Mothma struggling with the weight of it all, to Cinta with her cold fire and unwavering drive, her family killed by stormtroopers and for whom the struggle will always come first.

Cinta’s cool reserve is a contrast to Vel’s nerves (as seen in the Aldhani raid); they’re coming from very different places even if their cause is the same. There may even be a bit of classism in the subtext - Vel leads the mission on Aldhani after asking for the mission from Luthen, when really Cinta is the one who is most committed, and she has to push Vel though several times when she falters.

Vel still has one foot in the Imperial world and the complications of rebellious machinations - worried for Mon and her family, wanting to prove herself to Luthen, jockeying with Kleya - but for Cinta none of that matters, she loves Vel but there's often a sense she's disappointed in her. There's a dichotomy within Cinta - she's not unfeeling, showing kindness to Cassian when he joins their group, yet accepting the mission to kill him later without hesitation.

It seems to me that Cinta is the revolutionary Vel wants to be but can't quite divest herself of enough to become - the metaphor is made explicit with these two - Cinta tells Vel: “I’m a mirror. You love me because I show you what you need to see.”

Which is a pretty interesting dynamic, especially as a romantic one, and I’m interested to see where it will go (and hope that Cinta will get more focus, even though I do love Vel a lot too).

Their storyline did run out of steam by the end through, was there any point to either of these characters being on Ferrix at the end? It very much felt like all the plot lines were being forced to intersect at the climax without all of them necessarily needing to. Although Cinta stabbing that guy in the heart was pretty cathartic.

Bix Callen, Maarva Andor, and Ferrix

I loved Ferrix as a location, with its own distinct aesthetic, culture, and populace - the work gloves all hung on the wall, the metal tapping warning system, the daily hammer and anvil (the Time Grappler, according to Wookieepedia), funerary practices. etc. The first few episodes set up Cassian’s community on Ferrix which we come full circle on in the final two, but I did have some trouble keeping track of who was who at that point.

It is interesting that the trope of “just another brick in the wall” is turned on its head here - rather than representing a cog in the machine, in Ferrix ashes of the deceased are mixed with brick and added to a wall in remembrance - a literal touchstone for Cassian as he remembers his adoptive father Clem. A wall is strong, a bulwark against outside forces, and every brick added makes it stronger. Stones dropped in a pond, bricks built into a wall - reminders of the dead that spur the will to fight.

I do love the relationship between Maarva and Cassian, especially in a franchise that has never really had an interest in mothers and sons. And we have another mirror in the overcritical and cold relationship between Syril and Eedy as the inverse of Cassian’s complicated but loving one with Maarva - contrast the reception Syril gets when he returns home to the one Cassian gets from Maarva, as ultimately Eedy's pointed disappointment is sharp where Maarva's is borne from love and concern for Cassian.

But again there’s a disconnect with the history we’re shown - Maarva and Clem kidnap/save Kassa from Kenari but we don’t really get any sense of how Cassian feels about it or the connection he has to his heritage/childhood. I’m not saying I need everything spelled out, but sometimes I feel the show does err too much on the side of subtext, and as a result we don’t delve as deep into some of the relationships as we could have. Even her final message to Cassian - that she loves him more than anything he could ever do wrong - is a beautiful sentiment, but is it earned? He hasn't really done anything wrong, arguably she did wrong by him by taking him from Kenari but it's never even mentioned, it doesn’t even seem to be a factor in their relationship as adults.

On the other hand, I didn’t mind the treatment of the post-romantic relationship between Cassian and Bix - there’s a sense of history there but it didn’t need to be explored further. Bix's involvement in the Rebellion is interesting though, it's implied she was recruited by Kleya through the black market but are her motives purely profit or does she have rebellious fervor? Luthen knows of Cassian through Bix - did she see him as a candidate for the Rebellion or just another person from whom Luthen could obtain tech? What piqued Luthen's interest from what Bix said about him?

I don't think all these questions need answers, but it is unfortunate that she does get a bit Damseled, spending most of the runtime threatened, captured, and then tortured. On the other hand, there's less to criticise in employing that trope when it's not the only one at work and the breadth of female characters on the show.

I do wonder if we will see Bix, Brasso, and B2EMO again though, or if they’re a part of Cassian’s past he had to leave behind to fully commit himself to the Rebellion.

On nostalgia, fanservice, and the state of the Star Wars universe

A tangent into my frustrations with the sequel trilogy, skip if you’re allergic to salt.

Andor has been lauded for its lack of fanservice, although I’d actually argue it’s a show that (perhaps despite Gilroy's intention) is rooted in nostalgia. Well, perhaps not nostalgia per se, but it’s a show that relies on the audience’s knowledge and affection of Rogue One and the Original Trilogy, and it’s successful because it manages to feel authentic and fulfilling rather than ham-fisted and overly meta - a story set in the Star Wars universe, not about the Star Wars universe.

I know Gilroy intended this to be able to stand alone, but would the story have the same resonance if we weren't aware where Cassian's path leads, that the efforts and actions of Mon and Luthern, Vel and Cinta, Nemik, Bix and Kleya, are ultimately justified? Perhaps it would work in a generic sci-fi setting rather than the GFFA, but would we feel as much watching it? Personally, I think not.

Because nostalgia isn’t inherently bad. It’s a vital part of how we consume media - the stories that resonate with us in childhood will continue to resonate in adulthood because they are foundational, it's a shortcut to that incredible feeling of discovering something new that's nonetheless something very old. It's partly why Star Wars was such a success in the first place - a mix of myth and fairy tale, matinee serial and Kurosawa - a familiar story told in a new way. And like in Hadestown, "we're gonna sing it again and again."

The problem with nostalgia is when it’s empty; window dressing intended to evoke that feeling but without any substance behind it, so it feels cheap and unsatisfying. Andor doesn’t completely escape from this (blue milk, mouse droid), but most inclusions feel organic.

Sometimes I think we go to far decrying fanservice, and of course it's subjective - as I like to say, everyone hates it until they’re the fan being serviced. But there is criticism, and then there's dismissing any references to existing material as mere "fanservice" and therefore contemptible. For example, I’ve seen the treatment of Luke, Han, and Leia in the sequel trilogy defended because to actually have them interact at all would be “silly fanservice” rather than natural because, you know, they’re family.

The difference, for me, is does inclusion of a known character/object/trope/line of dialogue serve the character and/or story, or is it Leo DiCaprio pointing meme, designed for “hey it’s the thing” nostalgia and YouTube compilations with no substance behind it? Ultimately, is the inclusion Watsonian or Doylist - and if the latter, what of the former justifies it.

Mon Mothma or Saw Gerrara in Andor doesn’t feel like fanservice even though they’re existing characters, because it makes sense to include them in a story about the Rebellion’s beginning and they had a part to play in Rogue One, to which Andor is ostensibly a prequel. Conversely Leia and Vader’s inclusion in Obi-Wan Kenobi (even if I did enjoy them both) tip over in the side of fanservice because they really have no place in Obi-Wan’s story at that point and require fanwanking around their dialogue in ANH (and to be fair, Lucas was guilty of this as well). I don’t need to see random object or minor character no 6 from the PT/OT/Clone Wars, iconic catch phrase shoved where it doesn’t make sense, or obscure Legends reference divorced from context, just tell me a good story! Give me characters to care about! Make me feel something! Andor did that, where much of the other Disney Star Wars content has not.

This is my fundamental, and possibly at this point, irreconcilable, issue. Disney wanted to get away from Lucas-associated Star Wars as quickly as possible, replacing every character, planet, and theme with their own wholly Disney counterpart, killing off Han, Luke, and Leia so the old and classic couldn’t distract from the shiny and new, tearing down the conclusion of the original trilogy only to try and tell the exact same story (just not as well). They did it so quickly and so shoddily that many were understandably unsatisfied, leaving Disney to frantically course correct, going back to the well and shoving nostalgia bait into every conceivable project even (especially) if it had no place.

If they’d actually had any sort of plan for the sequel trilogy, if they’d made their focus to conclude the Skywalker Saga in a way that even approached emotional resonance, imo the vast majority of the audience would be happy to move on and embrace the next chapter - new characters, new stories. But people can’t move on from the characters they love because the treatment of those characters and the post-ROTJ timeline was so unsatisfying. Luke wouldn’t have needed to show up in The Mandolorian to try and placate the fans if treatment of the character in the ST hasn’t been so abysmal.

So LFL have been stuck in this weird ancillary storytelling space, where every project seemingly needs to be adjacent to the Skywalker Saga but not actually engaging with the Saga direct - Han has a prequel film no one asked for, Rey is a Skywalker for name recognition only, Luke pops up in pointless cameos but isn’t there when he arguably should be (just recast the damn role already!), we get young Leia in a story where she has no place rather than in one she does, who knows what’s going on with the whole Ashoka/Thrawn/Heir to the Empire stuff, Boba Fett is There with a parade of Hey it’s that character/ship/thing with no contribution to the actual storytelling.

What does this have to do with Andor? Well, Andor is perhaps the only quality tv product of the Disney era, which is fitting since Rogue One is imo the only quality film of the Disney era (TFA being retroactively diminished by what came after). Andor is the type of story Star Wars should be telling - expanding the universe, using known elements and characters where it makes sense to do so, not a collection of ideas on a whiteboard thrown in front of an LED screenstage and a bunch of meaningless easter eggs.

To be fair, this does seem what they are attempting to do with The Acolyte (which I am actually enjoying!) but the planned Rey-focused post-ST film…eh. Admittedly I never bothered to watch Rise of Skywalker, but where can the story possibly go? Is there any investment at all after the mess that was the sequel trilogy? I can’t see how the narrative can possibly be redeemed at this point, which is a shame because I do believe it started with a lot of promise in The Force Awakens that was squandered by a lack of vision, planning, and oversight, and the bizarre need to brutalise and kill off the legacy characters, marginalise the genuinely original and interesting new characters, and waste the immense acting talent they had at their disposal.

They’ve made no meaningful in-universe progress after the ST, the New Republic and Jedi have to be rebuilt again, except Rey is going to do it this time somehow, so what what the point of the last 30 years in the timeline? It’s different with Andor - we know where his story ends, but the series only makes Cassian’s sacrifice stronger, there’s emotional resonance in seeing his journey to Rogue One in knowing that it’s in service of the overall victory of the Rebellion (however undermined that victory is made by the ST).

But I digress. This rant really ended up being kind of off topic - apologies.

Anyway. Andor is good! I liked it! Looking forward to season 2!

[astrequa]

Hey!!! How are you?

I saw a little of your blog and loved it!

Can I request yandere Tighnari, and yandere Albedo (separately) with a darling that is basically immune to medicine, drugs, etc?

Basically drugs, medicines, etc (basically medicines and drugs) do not work on darling, and if they manage to have an effect the effect is very weak

I say this being someone that even strong medications don't work in me, and if the medications work, the effect is very weak

~ Signed: 🇧🇷 𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷

A/notes. Sorry for the very late respond on your request. Got a bit caught off with school :( I'm very sorry

Warning. YANDERE CONTENT. Uses of drugs and medicine (Hope I tag this right) NO PROOF-READ

╰─▸ ❝ HCS : Tighnari. Genshin Impact

・・・ His reaction when you show the opposite way when it was supposed to was unpleasant. Never he encounter someone who able to withstand the drug effect. Even Collei shows the same result like others

・・・ Follow you around to observe more your physical restriction, see what you can do and which is not. Sometimes would ask you to pick a new fauna you guys find in patrol. Would you be effected if it's poisonous? Does it make you hallucination? Tell him everything.

・・・ Ask you some question regarding your situation, for research of course.

・・・ If he can't knock you out with drug, he might as well use strength upon you. (Idk why I keep imagine Tighnari smaking my head with a brick)

╰─▸ ❝ HCS : Albedo. Genshin Impact

・・・His reaction when you drink the recent potion he made was surprising. How come it doesn't shows any effect than a light head. You should passed out by now. Something wrong, either it's his potion or because your body immune to any antidotes. He curious and want to learn about you more.

・・・ Mind goes blank for a second, if that potion didn't work he wonder how others gonna be.

・・・ He start with a simple thing first, ask about your past medical. Wanting to more about your body work before he gives you another potion with no how it will do.

・・・ If he was cruel enough, he would knock you down the moment he sees no reaction on your body as you drink the potion. Gonna lock you for himself and probably start doing your clone. We don't want the knight looking for you right?

Lye's notes. Ok for Tighnari's part where I mention Collei being drug, I didn't mean it as Tighnari accidently gives her. But let take it as Collei who accidently switch her medicine for the elixir he made and drink it. Only a little sip before Tighnari barged in. Ok?

[666writingcafe]

You can write that MI!MC becomes a baby because of Mephistopheles and Mephistopheles will have to take care of him without the demon brothers knowing but they discover it

The concept of Mephistopheles taking care of a baby version of MC sounds interesting, and I've been mulling it over in my head ever since I first saw this request. The main thing that I've been wondering is what Mephistopheles would have done to turn MC into a human, because it doesn't seem like the sort of thing he would do, accidentally or otherwise.

So, for the sake of fulfilling this request, I have changed who the culprit is. I will try to keep everything else the same.

Mephistopheles Becomes a Babysitter

Told From Mephistopheles's Point of View

I hate my life sometimes.

I literally just got settled into my room after a long, exhausting day of editing when someone loudly knocks on my front door. Couldn't they have waited at least five minutes?!

However, I cannot refuse whoever has decided to drop by. It would be incredibly rude, and someone in my position should remain polite and civil in the face of company.

So, a simple groan as I leave the comfort of my room will have to do.

Opening the door reveals nothing at first.

"Stupid teenagers," I grumble. For some reason, there's a group of them that enjoys the childish game "Ding Dong Ditch". They like to leave nasty surprises on people's porches. I've interviewed a few of their victims.

I'm about to shut the door when I hear the sound of cooing. Looking down, I'm greeted with the sight of a...

Baby carrier?!

I swear, if those kids decided to steal someone's literal child...

I kneel down to take a closer look at the baby inside. His eyes light up when he sees me, implying that I don't scare him. Odd. Usually babies don't like strangers.

Wait.

Why does he look familiar?

The baby wraps his hand around the envelope resting on top of him, bringing my attention to it.

"Do you mind if I have it?" I ask. Surprisingly, he lets go. It's as if he understood what I was saying, which doesn't make any sense. He appears too young to have that level of comprehension.

I carefully open the envelope and take out the note inside.

Mephisty,

I hope you don't mind receiving this delivery. I didn't know who else to turn to, since everyone else that comes to mind would turn me in right away. This is the result of an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong, and I need time to look for an antidote. I promise I will pay you back for your time.

-S

"Dammit, Solomon," I mutter. Even if he didn't sign the letter, I would have known it was from him. He's the only one that calls me "Mephisty", because in his words, it rhymes with "bestie".

For the record, we are nowhere near besties.

Looking back at the baby, everything clicks.

This isn't just any old baby.

No.

"I keep telling you to limit your time with him, but you never listen." MC narrows his eyes in an attempt to glare at me. It honestly looks like he's seconds away from pooping himself.

At least he still understands what I'm saying. If he didn't, this would be a lot more difficult for me to manage.

"Alright then," I sigh, picking up the carrier and taking it inside. "You know, you're lucky I helped take care of my brother when he was your age." MC blows a raspberry at me in response.

Couldn't Solomon have at least gotten rid of MC's attitude?

~~~

A week goes by without much incident, which is pretty par for the course. Those brothers get so wrapped up in their own drama that they often fail to pay attention to the world around them, so they probably haven't noticed that their beloved MC has disappeared.

Speaking of MC, he's quite the handful. I understand that he's annoyed at Solomon--I am, too--but I wish he didn't take that out on me. I'm not the one that turned him into a baby.

Then again, MC and I have never had the best relationship, so perhaps their behavior is to be expected. I can't help but be wary of him. The amount of power he has is dangerous, and while he hasn't done anything overly nefarious with it so far, I still have my concerns. MC's still human, after all, and power tends to corrupt humans. And this isn't me being prejudiced against humans or anything like that; I'm merely citing material. There's been so many incidents over humankind's existence that it spans several volumes of books. And those just contain the more notable cases.

But MC is more manageable in this form. I mean, how much damage can a baby do to the Devildom, really? And I'm not talking physical damage, because I know babies enjoy breaking things.

Especially this one.

Currently, however, he's allowing me to hold him so that I can ensure that they get rid of any excess air in their stomach.

"Easy does it," I murmur to him. After a few minutes, I feel the towel on my shoulder get wet.

"There you go. Good job." I adjust how I'm holding MC so that they can see my face. "Do you want me to read you a story?" A sharp, disapproving noise.

"Okay, not that. How about listening to music?" A brief pause, and then another shriek.

"Playtime?" MC rejects the idea, opting instead to reach out towards my face.

"Do you want me to keep holding you?" Finally, a satisfied noise. Thankfully I don't have anything major happening anytime soon, because when MC wants to be held, he doesn't want to be put down for a couple hours at least.

"Those brothers aren't paying enough attention to you, are they?" Something that sounds like "nuh-uh". "Those bastards."

For some reason, that makes him giggle. I think that's the first time I've intentionally made him laugh. I hate to say it, but it's a bit heart-warming.

A loud knock at the door interrupts the moment. Unfortunately, I can't set MC down. Even if they don't start wailing, they'll get up to some mischief.

"Hopefully that's Solomon with the antidote," I tell him as I walk to the door. "Otherwise, this is going to be rather..." Opening the door reveals a rather unpleasant surprise.

"...awkward." Satan and I stare at each other for a few seconds. I forgot I lent him one of my spellbooks. Eventually he clears his throat.

"Well, I was beginning to wonder where MC went," he states.

"I didn't do this," I quickly reply.

"I know. This is Solomon's doing, no doubt."

"He was supposed to find an antidote, but I haven't heard anything from him since he dropped MC off." Satan sighs.

"He probably got sidetracked." MC shrieks, causing Satan to tilt his head. "Is it just me, or did MC--"

"Oh, he understands what we're saying. He just can't use words to communicate at the moment."

"So, a baby with the mind of an adult. Got it." Satan pauses. "We need to pay him a visit." Momentary angry babbling from MC.

"I know, MC, but you can't do much right now," I try to comfort him. He grumbles, and Satan widens his eyes in disbelief.

"You know what he's saying?" I shrug.

"Somewhat. There aren't any coherent words, obviously, but that doesn't stop him from trying to talk."

"Well, what did he say?"

"Something to the effect of 'I wanna kick his butt!'" Excited noises from MC. Satan smirks.

"And you've always said you've never been overly fond of MC." This prompts him to blow a raspberry at Satan, as if he's poking fun at him.

I take the book from Satan and set it and the towel down on a nearby table before meeting him outside.

"Do we tell the others about this little mishap?" I ask Satan as we begin walking towards Solomon's place.

"Not unless we have to. I don't want you to be yelled at for something that wasn't your fault." He's mainly referring to Lucifer, who loves to blame me for the tiniest inconveniences, but the rest of the brothers would probably freak out as well.

And honestly?

I don't want MC to be spooked by a sudden increase in noise. He'll start crying, and I'll have no choice but to tell them off for scaring him.

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Part 4 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series Summary and Warnings Masterlist, Previous, First Chapter Summary: Ventis has been poisoned, and he's not getting better. Chapter Warnings: Poison, sickness, references to major character death (but spolier alert it doesn't happen)

* Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Onthyes didn’t even know that Ventis had his own bedroom. He’d spent every night so far in Athos’s bed, but now that the genasi was all sweaty and near catatonic he’d been sent to his own bed to recover.

It happened so fast. One moment Ventis had been standing happily next to his master and sipping his drink while the man chatted away with some party guests about the current silk market, and the next moment his face had gone pale and his knees had buckled.

Onthyes had watched as Ventis grabbed onto Athos to catch himself and Athos held him up and laughed something about him not being able to handle his liquor. A sinking sensation in the pit of Onthyes’s stomach had clued him in that Ventis was something other than drunk, and he had hurried over to the pair just as the glass slipped from Ventis’s hand and shattered on the tile floor.

There had been some sort of commotion, but Onthyes didn’t notice it. He was too busy lunging forward, taking Ventis’s unmoving body in his arms and lowering him gently to the floor before he could fall.

Athos had knelt next to them, running his mouth as he always did but not doing anything helpful while Onthyes silently felt for Ventis’s pulse - weak, too fast - and checked his breathing - barely there.

That was last night. Athos had been in a panic ever since, bringing doctor after doctor into Ventis’s room, who each told him the same thing.

“I’m sorry. I’ve tried everything.”

“The antidotes aren’t working.”

“I can take his measurements for a coffin now, if you’d like.”

And it had become Onthyes’s job to stay by the genasi’s side even when Athos was forced to be somewhere else.

It was hard to watch someone so beautiful deteriorate so quickly. Ventis’s skin had desaturated into a sickly grayish-blue. Every breath he took seemed to require herculean effort, and it was clear that not a moment passed when he wasn’t in pain. Onthyes almost wished the poison would just end him already.

But Athos insisted on not losing hope. He was going to keep trying to save his pet until his heart stopped, and even after that Onthyes wouldn't be surprised if he started consulting necromancers.

As much as he hated the way Athos treated Ventis, Onthyes had to admit that he loved him in his own twisted way.

“Please,” Ventis rasped, pulling Onthyes out of his thoughts.

Onthyes leaned in closer. Ventis had these wakeful moments sometimes, when he would mumble something or try to move, but he didn’t seem entirely lucid even then.

“What do you need?” Onthyes asked, reaching out to take Ventis’s hand. His skin was entirely too hot. “I’m right here.”

His features scrunched with discomfort and he shifted, muscles straining as he made a weak attempt to move towards the edge of the bed. Onthyes placed a hand on his shoulder, carefully pushing him back down.

“Don’t try to move,” he warned. “You’re sick. You need to stay in bed.”

“Hurts.”

Onthyes’s heart squeezed in his chest. “I know. I’m sorry. We’re doing everything we can to help you, but you have to try to fight, okay?”

A tired nod.

“Would you drink some water?”

Ventis mumbled unhappily, turning his face away.

It was at that moment that Athos returned from a meeting, his eyes searching Ventis for any sign of improvement as soon as he crossed the room’s threshold.

“How is he? Is he awake?” Athos sat on the bed on the side opposite to Onthyes, stroking Ventis’s cheek. Ventis flinched, and Athos failed to hide his disappointment at the clear rejection from his pet.

“I have been trying to get him to drink, but no luck so far,” Onthyes reported.

“He’ll do it for me, I am sure,” Athos declared, hooking an arm behind Ventis’s back to help him sit up and making Ventis groan at the sudden movement.

Onthyes moved quickly, helping Athos to lift him and grabbing a pillow to tuck behind his back so he could sit comfortably. Athos was so eager to help care for Ventis, but he had a tendency to cause more pain.

“Come on, my love,” Athos coaxed, touching the glass to Ventis’s lips.

Whimpering, Ventis kept his mouth closed and turned away.

Athos’s gaze made a quick shift from affection to annoyance. “Don’t be difficult, pet,” he spat.

The harshness of Athos’s tone just made Ventis shut down even more and the genasi made a failed effort to sink back down into the blankets.

“Can I try, sir?” Onthyes asked.

Athos passed him the water with an unintelligible grumble. Onthyes approached Ventis with it slowly, patiently. “Let me know when you’re ready for it,” Onthyes said, his voice soft. “You need to drink this, but you can do it on your own terms, alright?”

Ventis finally cracked his eyes open, gazing tiredly at Onthyes for a long moment before he parted his lips, flicking his eyes towards the glass.

Onthyes took the cue, tipping a small amount of water into his mouth and pulling away, giving him time to swallow and waiting until he opened his mouth again to give him more. It was slow going but it worked, and Onthyes did his best to ignore the icy way Athos was watching him.

Ventis gave a weak wave of his hand to indicate he was finished. The water still filled the glass halfway, but any amount was satisfactory to Onthyes.

“He just needed a little patience,” Onthyes said softly as Ventis’s eyes drifted closed and his posture started to go slack again. “That’s all.”

“Take a break Onthyes. I’ll watch him for now.”

Onthyes stiffened. He’d forgotten who he’d been talking to - the man who had cut off the hands of a guard who had touched Ventis once. Challenging the way he cared for his most beloved possession was probably not a smart move if he wanted to keep all of his limbs.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“Leave us.”

By the next morning, Athos acted as if nothing had happened. Onthyes was once again assigned to the task of sitting with Ventis while servants and healers stopped in periodically to change the linens or offer a fresh dose of whatever new remedy Athos wanted to try this time. Ventis still wasn’t responding to treatment, and his fever raged higher than ever today. He had become too weak to move; too weak to do anything but stare with glazed eyes as Athos tearfully offered his golden flute and begged him to play something.

A private investigator hired by Athos came by at some point and reported that she had still found no leads as to who had poisoned Ventis or what their motive was. Athos shattered a glass pitcher against a wall and Ventis barely had the energy to flinch.

⋄✧⋄

That night, after Onthyes had once again been left alone to care for Ventis, things took a turn for the worse.

Onthyes had begun to sink in the armchair he occupied next to the bed, lulled towards sleep by the dim candlelight and the distant sound of waves sweeping the shore. Ventis was sleeping fitfully, and he had remained relatively stable so far.

A soft gasp, then a shuddering, rattling breath.

Onthyes sat up straight, turning his full attention to Ventis. His lips were parted slightly, trembling as he struggled to breathe. He had gone unnaturally pale, and when Onthyes touched his hand it was cold and clammy.

He was out of time.

Onthyes knew he should go get Athos. The man would probably want to be there for the death of his dearest companion.

But Onthyes refused to let Ventis die in the arms of his captor. He refused to let him die in his cage, gilded as it was.

Before he knew what he was doing Onthyes took Ventis in his arms, wrapping him in blankets before lifting him and slipping out the door into the darkened hallway. Ventis shuddered and whined at the movement, his labored breaths cold on Onthyes’s neck.

Onthyes crept through the manor, avoiding the prying eyes of any servants or guards until he reached a back entrance. From there it was an easy walk down a little path to Athos’s private beach.

There were no witnesses as Onthyes held his charge easily with one arm while he spread out a blanket, then laid Ventis out on it. Moonlight lit the sand and the foamy waves with a silvery glow and Ventis shone with it, his scales glinting in the dark. He was beautiful, even at the end of his life. This wasn’t fair.

Onthyes laid down next to him, staring up at the vast expanse of sky above. “The stars are out,” he said softly.

Ventis stirred next to him, and Onthyes turned to watch as his lilac eyes opened to the sky and went wide with awe. A shiver tore through his body.

“I thought you’d want to see them before…” He couldn’t bear to say it. He wasn’t sure if Ventis knew that he was dying, but Onthyes didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

Except…

As he stared up at the stars, life seemed to return to Ventis’s eyes, his skin soaking up saturation with every gust of cold wind that wrapped around him. His breaths came easier with every passing moment, until Onthyes could almost believe that he had nothing but a common cold.

But Ventis didn’t look happy. If anything, every ounce of health returned to his body came with pain. He let out a short sob, turning onto his side and curling into himself.

Onthyes sat up quickly, a hand on Ventis’s back.

“Ventis? What’s wrong?”

“Take me back,” Ventis whispered brokenly.

“What?”

“Take me inside. Please. I can’t bear it.”

Onthyes helped Ventis sit up, keeping an arm around the genasi so he could continue crying into his shoulder. “I don’t understand. I thought this would bring you comfort.”

Ventis shook his head hard. “It just hurts. Please.”

He’d had good intentions, but he refused to continue to hurt Ventis if this wasn’t what he wanted. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Ventis calmed as soon as the door closed behind them, muting the rhythmic sound of the waves. Onthyes made sure to dispose of the sandy blankets before he snuck Ventis back into his bedroom, tucking him safely into bed. He was still in disbelief over Ventis’s miraculous recovery, but he didn’t question it.

Besides, he was already starting to look bad again as he drifted off, his breaths going faint and his skin going dull once more.

⋄✧⋄

The following afternoon, Ventis was seen by Dust, a stony skinned woman with a hood covering her bald head - not a healer but a scholar in the ways of elementals. Athos had explained to Onthyes that he hoped she might notice something that others have not.

Cracks appeared between Dust’s brow as she frowned, leaning over Ventis. He didn’t look to be on the verge of death like he had last night, but he had certainly gotten bad again.

“How long has he been sick?” Dust asked, her voice deep and gravelly.

“A week,” Athos answered. The man was a wreck - usually immaculate clothes disheveled and wrinkled.

Dust hummed to herself as she continued to examine Ventis, pulling back his top lip to expose a peek of fangs. “He’s a strange sort of hybrid,” she muttered to herself. “Air genasi, certainly, but there are elements of human and dragon here as well. I’ve never seen his like. I would love to study him some day.”

Athos visibly tensed at her words, but his discomfort didn’t break his sardonic smile. “Heal him, and I’ll invite you back to take a closer look.”

“I’m not sure that I can.”

Onthyes tensed. Athos has been told ‘no’ by so many healers now, and every time his reaction has been more volatile.

“Why not?” Athos growled. “He ingested a simple toxin. He’s received countless antidotes. And still he refuses to recover. What’s wrong with him?”

Dust gave Athos a long look, then sat down on the edge of Ventis’s bed. She ran her fingers over the delicate golden collar that adorned his neck even in sickness.

“Tell me the truth, Athos. What is his position in your household?”

Athos hesitated. “He’s my companion. My partner.”

“So the two of you are at equal standing?”

“Well, I am the master of this house. He answers to me the same as everyone else does. But he enjoys luxuries unlike any of my staff.”

“He may come and go as he pleases, then?”

This answer took longer to come. “He… Ventis is confined to my property, but he may pursue whatever interest he likes with adequate permission from me.”

Dust seemed dissatisfied with Athos’s answer. She turned to Onthyes, who had been watching quietly from his place by the door. “What would you say Ventis’s position is here, guard? His life depends on you telling me the truth.”

Onthyes bit his lip. His interpretation of the truth may upset Athos, but he cared more about helping Ventis.

“He’s a pet, Miss. He is under Athos’s command, and he has no autonomy otherwise.”

Dust seemed disappointed, but not surprised. “I see. Thank you. How long has he been here, Athos?”

“Three years.”

“Three-” more cracks appeared across Dust’s skin before she composed herself with a deep breath. “And how often do you take him out to fly?”

Athos stared at her blankly. “He doesn’t fly.”

“Now isn’t a time for jokes, sir.”

“No, really. I have never seen him fly and he has never expressed a desire to.”

Rubbing her temples, Dust stood and began to wander the room restlessly. “Strange. This whole situation is strange. I don’t understand how he hasn’t died already.”

“What do you mean?”

“In short, air elementals don’t survive in captivity for very long. Even a hybrid genasi like Ventis would be expected to fade away after about a year. They need to be like the wind; to move from place to place with no restrictions. Otherwise…” She sat again, placing her hand over Ventis’s trembling hands. “It’s a death of the spirit, not the body. Spells and medicine won’t cure it. I have no idea how he has made it this far, but I imagine the poison may have triggered it somehow. His body refuses to heal because his spirit is dying.”

Onthyes knew how Ventis had survived so long, and Athos knew it too. Nightspill. Ventis was too numb to even notice that his freedom had been stripped from him.

And this must explain why he seemed so much better last night when Onthyes had snuck him out onto the beach. It was a taste of freedom; just enough to restore his spirit so he could keep fighting. But it didn’t explain why being outside had distressed him so badly.

“How do I save him? Please, I’ll do anything.”

Dust fixed Athos with a cold look. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Set him free.”

Onthyes watched the color drain from Athos’s face. “I… I understand. Thank you.” He gestured to Onthyes.

Onthyes nodded shortly, opening the door for Dust and accompanying her down the hall.

“Thank you for your honesty back there,” Dust said as they walked. “I’d had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to asume”

“Would you like some more honesty, then?” Onthyes asked, dropping his voice low.

“Please.”

“Athos Landleigh is a monster. The way he treats Ventis…” He shook his head. “It’s sickening. It takes everything in me not to steal him away in the night and get him far away from here.”

“Why don’t you?”

Onthyes stopped walking, taking Dust by the arm so he could lean in and talk even softer. “Athos doses him with Nightspill every morning. Even if he had the opportunity to escape and could think clearly enough to take it, the withdrawls would send him right back here.”

“Gods. He is a monster. And Nimbria guard wouldn't dare do anything, would they?”

Onthyes shook his head. “I was a member once.” He decided to spare the detail that his father was literally the captain. “They turn a blind eye to this sort of thing.”

Dust looked up at Onthyes, taking him by the shoulders. “It seems hopeless, but please don’t stop trying. You seem like a good man. Don’t let yourself become complicit.”

“I won’t give up,” Onthyes assured her.

With that he showed her out; she gave him one last wave before disappearing out the gate.

Onthyes made his way back towards Ventis’s room, wondering what Athos’s decision would be.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Part 5

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people I'd like to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

[alder-saan]

The Path of Poisons .9

Bugloss

Larissa x gn! Oc

the Path of Poisons masterlist . [01] . [02] . [03] . [04] . [05] . [06] . [07] . [08] . [09] next chapter ->

Sorry! It was supposed to be released yesterday but I forgot haha!

TW: Larissa's low self esteem, hospital, stupid lesbians

words count: 1.5k

Again, sorry for any misgendering, this is the only fic I write in French at first, yada yada yada...

from: avareidahydrurga@gmail.com

to: l.weems@nevermore-academy.com

Hello Larissa,

Thank you for your email, it was great to hear from you, I hope you're well. I haven't forgotten you, and even if it hadn't been for all this, I wouldn't have forgotten you.

I forgive you.

For everything you've done and everything you've said. I forgave you a long time ago. We've grown up, I've changed a lot, you've probably changed a lot too.

I wish you lots of strength, lots of courage and lots of happiness.

All the best,

Avareida

Larissa's heart leapt in her chest as she read the three words "I forgive you." It was more than she could ever have imagined. And she burst into tears in front of her desk. I forgive you. It was as if something released in her whole body. I forgive you. All the pressure she had built up, all the hatred she thought she was the object of, gone. I forgive you. Those were three words she had waited so long to hear, three words she only heard in her wildest dreams. I forgive you, three words she thought she'd have to die to hear.

She froze. Tears streamed down her face and soaked the papers spread out on her desk. She dropped her pen in surprise. She thought she'd read in the email something along the lines of "thank you for your email but I'd rather not talk to you". It was unexpected. She didn't even understand how it was possible.

I forgive you.

I

forgive

you.

Those three words echoed so loudly in her head, it was almost painful. She felt as if a small fire had been lit in her chest, a tiny flame, just a match, and the ice that had clung to her heart was gradually melting. She rubbed her misty eyes and took a deep breath.

"Pull yourself together, Larissa. It's nothing, it's just… it's just Ava forgiving you."

"She has? That's wonderful!"

Larissa gasped and looked up. Rei was closing the door and coming towards her.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to frighten you. I knocked but you didn't hear me, so I came in."

"Did… Has something happened?"

"The nurse has been informed that Wednesday is better. She asked me to tell you that we'll be able to see her soon. This afternoon, probably."

She nodded and finished wiping away her tears.

"Okay, that makes me feel better."

"Do you want us to do something before we go and see her? Go for a coffee or something."

Larissa frowned slightly, not really understanding.

"But you said that…"

"Yes, I said that romantically it wouldn't be possible at the moment, but I didn't say anything about friendly. You clearly need to take your mind off things, and I think getting out would do you good. If you want there to be no ambiguity, Thalia can come with us."

Larissa shook her head.She didn't want there to be too many people. What's more, while Rei was quiet, she knew Thalia to be very talkative. A little too talkative for her taste. Of course, she liked the Gorgon very much, but spending time in her company tended to exhaust her more than anything else, and she needed to rest today.

"No, it's fine, we can meet for a drink in the early afternoon. How about Weathervane?"

"That's fine."

Rei nodded. At least Larissa wasn't angry with him. That was something. Now she just had to wait for the right moment to tell her. Maybe at the Weathervane the next day? Or after the hospital visit, hoping she'd be a bit calmer.

Rei had absolutely no doubt that Mercredi would pull through. The young girl had resisted the poison for a long time without an antidote, so with the antidote, she should recover very quickly. So obviously, Larissa was going to be relieved, and hearing that Rei had been Avareïda all along would take a load off everyone's shoulders.

Perhaps a little more for Rei than anyone else, it's true.

__

Larissa was waiting at the Weathervane. She was 5 minutes early, as usual. Rei arrived right on time, as usual. They sat down opposite the principal, and handed her a small brooch in the shape of a little blue flower with four petals.

"Is that… is that for me?" she asked, taking the little brooch.

"Yes, I thought you weren't going to come to the hospital and leave with flowers…"

Larissa hung the brooch on her white jacket. But she didn't know the name of the little blue flower.

"I ordered for you."

"Oh, and what did you get?"

"It's a surprise."

Larissa smiled. She loved surprising her partners. She liked to see their faces light up when they finally found out what she was going to give them. Rei wasn't her partner, of course, but… She also liked to surprise her friends.

"Speaking of surprises," Rei began, "after we went to see Wednesday, I have something to tell you."

Larissa frowned. Rei looked a little stressed. She was worried about her friend.

"Is everything all right, Rei?"

"Yes, yes, everything's fine haha. Sorry, this whole thing's got me a bit worried."

They gave her a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but Larissa could see it was fake. However, she didn't insist. Rei had every right to keep certain secrets, and she told herself that she would ask again at another time. Their drinks arrived. The waiter placed two hot chocolates on the table, with lots of whipped cream on top. Rei arched an eyebrow, amused to see that the surprise drink was a simple hot chocolate.

"Hot chocolate?"

Larissa nodded, her lips already on the edge of the cup.

"They make the best in the area."

"So you're a fan of hot chocolate?"

"Absolutely. Why, don't I look like one?"

Rei laughed softly before taking a sip of her hot chocolate, her eyes planted in Larissa's. They put the cup down and seemed to think.

"Well, no. You don't really look like a fan of hot chocolate. No offence, of course…"

The headmistress smiled and leaned forward slightly.

"And what do I look like, then?"

"You look like someone who likes expensive tea and wine," Rei quipped as she drank a little more.

She let out a small laugh.

"That's a bit true too, oh wait…"

Larissa stood up and leaned over the table, her arm outstretched to reach Rei's face. They had a smear of whipped cream above their lip, and she wiped it away gently. The botanist's face turned slightly red, and they looked into Larissa's blue eyes. Their lips opened slightly as the principal's thumb lingered there. They held their breath. If Larissa kissed them now, he wouldn't be able to resist. And in Larissa's eyes, they could see all the hesitation. She wanted to kiss them too.

Their lips met. Larissa tasted hot chocolate. Who had kissed first, Rei wasn't sure. They put their hand on the main girl's cheek and gently pushed her away.

"Forgive me, Rei, I…"

"Don't apologise, that's for me to do. I shouldn't have, I said that…" they sighed and then let out a small laugh, "I guess you're hard to resist. Let's forget about it for now, shall we?"

With a bit of luck, that very evening they would kiss again. For that to happen, he had to find the courage to tell her who he was. And that wasn't easy.

"It's time to go and see Wednesday, I think."

Rei blinked, drawn out of her thoughts.

"Yes, you're right."

Larissa had already got up and was paying for their two hot chocolates. Rei was about to protest, but by the time they got to the counter, she had already swiped her card.

"Hey, I can pay, you know?"

"I'm the one who chose, I'm the one who pays. That's the rule."

Rei laughed softly and held the door for Larissa to come out.

"Oh yeah? Since when is that the rule?"

"Since today. I just created it."

__

Larissa swallowed as she entered the hospital. She had left just three months earlier, and had promised herself she would never return. She watched Rei talking to a doctor, and tried to hold her breath. She'd hated that clean smell ever since. Those white floors, those white walls, those white doors, those white coats. She hated it. But she had to go. She had to face her fear. She had to go and see Wednesday. Because it was her fault, and entirely her fault that a pupil had been poisoned under her roof. It was her duty to protect them, but she had failed. She had failed.

"Riss? Everything OK? Wednesday has been moved to room 666. At her own request."

Larissa gasped and then nodded. She didn't even notice the nickname.

"Yes, everything's fine."

"Shall we?"

She nodded and reached for his hand. She needed something to ground her, to anchor her to reality, to make sure she wasn't in one of her nightmares. Rei guided her to a lift. They got in and the doors closed behind them. The six floors seemed like an eternity to Larissa, whose gaze went from the floor to the doors to Rei to the small screen that showed "third floor". Three more, she thought. Rei's hand was warm in hers, and that reassured her. Everything around her was blue and white, too cold for her. Rei gave her a small smile.

The doors opened onto the sixth floor.

Mercredi was sitting on her bed, her eyes open and her face impassive. Thalia was already there. Larissa quickly removed her hand from Rei's, but there was no mistaking the arched eyebrow on Wednesday's face: she'd seen everything.

"Laurel is back," she said simply.

"Excuse me?" Larissa choked, and widened her eyes.

"Laurel is back. She's the one who poisoned me. And she has an ally again."

"Who?"

"Avareïda Hydrurga."

_______________________________________

:)

[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Summary: Ethan nearly jumped with excitement. "I haven't seen a plush in so long!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up with pure joy.

Simon raised an eyebrow in surprise at Ethan's response. "No?" he echoed.

Warnings: TW

It’s going to get a bit messy and it’s the death of a child. Do not read this chapter if you can’t handle it.

Simon continued to soothe Ethan, the child's cries began to subside. In a trembling voice, Ethan spoke, his words filled with desperation, "Please help me... I don't—I don't want to become a monster."

Simon bit his lip, struggling with the difficult situation, but he knew he had to offer some reassurance. "Ethan, you...won’t transform into one," he lied, hoping to calm the boy's fears.

Ethan looked up at Simon, his teary eyes searching for hope. "You can save me?" he asked, his voice filled with a glimmer of hope.

Simon couldn't bring himself to tell the truth, so he replied, "I can help you so that you won't transform." He offered the boy a measure of comfort, knowing that it was a complex promise, but it was the best he could do in that moment to ease Ethan's fears.

Ethan’s face was already pale and his eyes were bloodshot and it was clear he didn’t have long. Simon was torn, his heart aching as he gazed at the frightened child. He didn't know what to do. A part of him urged him to end Ethan's suffering swiftly, to free him from the inevitable fate of becoming a zombie. But another part of him hesitated, recoiling from the notion of cold-blooded murder, especially of an innocent child.

His mind raced with options. Leaving Ethan tied up to something in the store would be cruel, an agonizing death sentence. He couldn't bring himself to do that to the boy, who clung to him as his last lifeline of hope.

He knew he couldn't save Ethan, but he could at least offer him a semblance of mercy.

Ethan sniffled, his young eyes filled with hope, as he asked Simon, "What are you going to do? Do you have an antidote?" Simon looked down at the child, wishing that he had a miracle cure to offer. "I don't have an antidote, Ethan," he confessed with a heavy heart and the boy’s little smile instantly fell. “But you won’t transform.” It wasn't exactly a lie. He just had to find a way to make this as painless as possible, without the boy realizing the truth.

“I won’t transform.” The boy repeated, his eyes lighting up with newfound hope, a glimmer of trust in the vampire before him. Simon struggled to keep his emotions in check as he slowly looked at his already extended claws, still hidden from Ethan's view. He had to make it quick; the boy didn't deserve to suffer.

Taking a deep breath, Simon leaned down to embrace Ethan. As he held the child close, he whispered words of comfort, "I promise, Ethan. It'll be alright." Simon continued to hold Ethan tightly, the boy's grip around him nearly crushing. As Simon comforted him, he couldn't help but think of his little Marceline.

"You know," Simon whispered softly, "I have a little girl who reminds me a lot of you." Ethan looked up with curiosity in his eyes, asking, "Is she your daughter?"

Simon hesitated for a moment, but then finally, he replied, "No, but she's all I have right now, and I'm all she has. You two would be great friends." A small smile began to form on Ethan's tear-streaked face as he asked, "Really?"

Simon nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Yeah," he said, his voice quivering with emotion. "She has a lot of toys too. I think you would love them.”

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement as he heard about the toys. "What kind of toys?" he asked eagerly, his voice filled with childlike wonder.

Simon ran his clawed hand gently through Ethan's hair, being cautious to ensure the boy didn't feel his unusual features. "Some plushes and some wooden ones," he replied, a small smile forming on his lips.

Ethan nearly jumped with excitement. "I haven't seen a plush in so long!" he exclaimed, his face lighting up with pure joy.

Simon raised an eyebrow in surprise at Ethan's response. "No?" he echoed.

Ethan's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he explained, "No! Where did you find them?" His hand twitched involuntarily, a sign that the infection was slowly taking over.

Simon chuckled softly, a mixture of warmth and sadness in his eyes. He looked at Ethan's twitching hand, knowing that the boy's time was limited. "In a big city," Simon replied, "there were a lot of them. Did you have one?"

Ethan nodded, a nostalgic smile forming on his face. "I had a teddy bear, but he got ripped in two." Simon's heart ached at the thought of the boy's lost comfort. He gently caressed Ethan's cheek, and the boy leaned into the touch, craving the warmth of human contact. "I'm sorry to hear that," Simon murmured.

Ethan's hopeful eyes locked onto Simon's as he asked, "It’s okay. After we get out of this store, can we go find a plush?"

He lied with a soft smile, "Yeah, I'll find you the best plush there is on this planet."

Ethan's eyes shone with excitement as he looked up at Simon. "Maybe after that, we could go to where your little girl is," he suggested. Simon's eyes filled with a hint of tears as he thought of Marceline. "Her name is Marcy," he whispered, "She would love to play with you."

Ethan's face lit up with anticipation. "Really?" he asked, his voice trembling with both excitement and uncertainty. Simon nodded, his voice filled with sincerity. "Yeah, really," he assured Ethan. He couldn't imagine Marcy rejecting the company of a new friend.

Ethan's shoulders slumped slightly, and he confessed, "I hope so. In my last group, the kids didn't want to play with me."

"Yeah, well, their loss," Simon said with a reassuring smile. Ethan's smile widened, though his head twitched slightly, a sign that the infection was progressing. Think Simon, think. Victims that are bitten on the leg, the virus will take hold of the host between 12 to 24 hours? Or was it 24 to 48 hours?

Simon's concern deepened as he looked at Ethan as he started to twitch more. "Ethan, speaking of your... bite. When did you actually get bit?" he inquired gently. Ethan's face instantly fell, and he confessed, "Almost 2 days ago."

Simon nodded slightly, taking in the gravity of the situation. "Did you try to sleep after you got bit?" he asked.

Ethan's eyes filled with fear as he admitted, "No. I was too scared to sleep. What if I woke up a monster?"

Simon continued to run his hand through Ethan's hair, offering comfort. "Don't worry," he reassured the boy, "that won't happen."

Ethan's gratitude was palpable as he buried his head into Simon's chest when the vampire kneeled beside him, the child's voice was muffled as he whispered, "Thank you."

Simon held his breath, his heart heavy with the weight of what he was about to do.

Simon gently cupped Ethan's face, the boy's eyes widened with fear when he saw the vampire’s claws. "It won't hurt," Simon assured him, his voice unwavering. In one swift, precise motion, Simon used his claws.

“Wait—“

Blood splattered from the little boy’s abdomen and Simon pulled out his claws. Slowly but surely, all Ethan could see was just fuzzy and the pain intensified. Liar. He tried to get away from Simon, pushing him with a little trembling hand, but soon the boy’s body refused to move. Instead of words coming out of his mouth, his mouth involuntarily vomitted blood. The scent of Ethan's blood was putrid and foul, a noxious odor that twisted his senses. The infection coursing through Ethan's veins had turned his once-vital life force into something truly nightmarish. Simon's keen vampire senses, which were usually drawn to the alluring aroma of fresh blood, recoiled at this gruesome stench.

Ethan's body went limp, and he collapsed into Simon's arms and the antiquarian tried to make the boy's last moments as peaceful as he could , devoid of suffering or fear, as he slipped into the eternal sleep of death. But you made him suffer, didn’t you?

Tears welled up in Simon's eyes as he looked at Ethan's now lifeless body, knowing he had spared the boy from a far worse fate. It was a heavy burden to bear, but in this grim world, it was the only act of mercy he could offer. Was it really, Simon?

As Simon gently laid Ethan's lifeless body on the store's cold, unforgiving floor, a profound sickness welled up within him. The tears he had managed to hold back now streamed down his pale cheeks, mixing with the boy's blood. The weight of what he had just done pressed down on him, a burden heavier than the countless years he had carried as a vampire. His vision blurred as the enormity of his actions overwhelmed him. Simon had taken lives before, as any vampire did to sustain themselves, but this was different. Ethan had been innocent, a mere child caught in the merciless grip of a zombie apocalypse. The memory of the sweet, innocent boy he had tried to comfort just moments ago haunted him. All the times he had savored the blood of his prey, it was a quick, euphoric act, detached from any emotional connection. But now, the weight of that act bore down on his soul, a crushing reminder of the cruelty of this world.

Simon stumbled backward, his body wracked with sobs. It felt as though all the blood he had consumed from the bunny earlier was coming back to him, a nauseating flood of emotions and regret. He collapsed against a shelving unit, clutching his chest as if it might help to relieve the pain.

Simon's body convulsed, the turmoil of emotions and guilt coursing through his veins. He gasped for breath, unable to control the overwhelming sensation of sickness that had taken hold of him. His heart seemed to pound in his chest with a perverse rhythm.

Desperation clawed at him, and his world grew hazy as he doubled over, his fangs extending involuntarily. The blood of the innocent rabbit he had fed upon earlier surged up. He retched and gagged, heaving up the crimson liquid onto the cold, lifeless floor beside Ethan. The sound of his own wretchedness mixed with his heart-wrenching sobs, creating a cacophony of anguish in the abandoned store. His knees gave way, and he collapsed in the midst of his own misery, the sour taste of blood lingering in his mouth.

“Hey. Hey, Simon. Breathe with me.”

"See? Inhale. Exhale. Come on, Simon, this is easier than finding artefacts."

Simon finally managed to lift his tear-filled eyes to gaze at Ethan's lifeless form. The boy's face now peaceful in death, he whispered, his voice choked with anguish, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry Betty." He reached out a trembling hand to gently close the boy's vacant eyes.

As Simon sat there, surrounded by the haunting silence, his head hung low as he whispered a prayer, his words carrying both a plea for forgiveness and a wish for peace for the boy's soul. "May you find the solace and tranquility that this world could never offer you, Ethan," he murmured, his voice barely audible amidst the desolation.

Did I do the right thing?

After the somber moment with Ethan, Simon wiped his mouth, removing any trace of the blood he had regrettably expelled. He couldn't change what had happened now.

He glanced around the store, the darkness still shrouding him under his black cloak. The approaching dawn hinted at the rising sun, a reminder of his vulnerability as a vampire. He needed to leave and make it back to the house he had barricaded, to ensure Marceline's safety. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, his legs trembling with the weight of his actions, Simon took one last look at Ethan, his heart heavy with remorse. Then, he turned and stepped out of the store, into the growing light of the new day.

As Simon made his way through the desolate streets, he was surprised to find that the area seemed relatively free of the hordes of zombies that had plagued it just hours before. Perhaps they had simply moved on to other hunting grounds.

This stroke of luck allowed Simon to reach the house more faster than he had expected. He moved with a cautious but determined pace, his cloak masking his presence in the growing daylight.

Simon's stomach growled softly, a reminder of the hunger that gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn't ignore it for long. But he would. He was so close to the house, he could almost picture Marceline sleeping peacefully with Nivens. But just as he neared the door, a different scent caught his attention, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

His keen vampire senses picked up another presence, another scent of blood, within the house. His fangs extended, and he moved silently, inching closer to the door, cautious and alert. The scent of blood was unmistakable, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Simon squeezed through the principal door of the house, moving as silently as his vampire nature allowed. His heart raced as he entered the living room and didn't immediately spot any intruders. The familiar scent of the bunny, Nivens, reassured him, but there were also two other scents of blood, one distinctly human and the other one belonged to Marceline.

As he approached the slightly closed bedroom door, his anxiety grew. He distinctly remembered leaving it shut, a protective measure to keep Marceline safe while he was gone. Now, it stood ajar, and his heart pounded in his chest.

His own breath slightly increased as he strained his vampire hearing, detecting the subtle sounds of heartbeats. Marceline's heartbeat was the first he recognized, peaceful and steady, indicating that she was still asleep and unharmed. But there was another heartbeat, slightly more rapid, belonging to a man. It was a sign of agitation or fear(?), and it sent a chill down Simon's spine.

Simon pushed the bedroom door open just a fraction, revealing the presence of a man near Marceline's bed. His heart raced, but he knew he had to act cautiously. He had no idea who this intruder was, what his intentions were, or why he was in the same room as Marceline.

As Simon tried to make his way into the room, he tried to be as silent as a shadow, but an unfortunate creak from the floor betrayed his presence. A string of curses escaped his lips, but it was too late. The man immediately turned, his eyes wide with fear, and drew a gun, pointing it directly at Simon.

Simon didn't flinch; and the man noticed.

But then the man shifted his aim, pointing the gun at the sleeping child and Simon’s heart dropped and he immediately stopped in his tracks.

The man's words, though unspoken, echoed loudly in the tense room: "Back off, or I'll shoot her."

Notes: I have my doubts about this chapter. Not sure how it turned out, but uh—hoped you enjoyed it😭 I’m trying to hint at some things and I really hope you guys get the idea and well if not, that’s okay too.

If you have any constructive criticism, please write it in the comments, about what I should have done with this chapter (if you consider that it wasn’t that great or just want to tell what I could’ve wrote better).

Anyways, to some extent I love to see how well I can write angst(Mind you I’m still at the beginning so hope I did at least decent?)

Next chapter will be with Betty and Simon. <3 (Hope I’ll manage to write it, school’s been a bitch to me)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[caffedrine]

Keith Howell - Chapter 15 - Summary

I pretty much have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t trust me, and you shouldn’t either. This summary is not guaranteed to be accurate, it’s mostly written for myself to follow along with the route.

After politely knocking, Leon walks into the infirmary. He’s pleased to see Keith awake and sitting up, and Keith praises the doctors and the timely administration of the antidote. Keith apologizes for the trouble he’s causing, which Leon quickly assures him that it’s no trouble, if anything, the Kingdom of Rhodolite and its lax security are the ones who should be apologizing to him. Leon quickly figures out that Keith’s eyes are still suffering from the poison, and Keith assures him that it’s temporary.

(I don't think its a coincidence that Leon, and not Chevalier, is the one conveying the official apologies)

Emma is amazed. If she didn’t know any better, she would think that this was Nice!Keith, and not Alter!Keith impersonating him.

Leon continues with his apologies, Sariel, the prime minister should technically be the one visiting Keith, but urgent matters came up so Leon volunteered this official apology/visit. He apologizes for visiting while Keith is still being hospitalized, but he was hoping that they could talk about the carriage attack.

Still impersonating Nice!Keith, Alter!Keith holds up a hand and asks Leon to wait a moment.  Alter!Keith pointedly looks at Emma, and she realizes he’s trying to be considerate of her. He’s trying to give her a chance to recuperate and not be retraumatized by the attack.

Instead of accepting this offer of Alter!Keith’s, Emma thanks him but insists on remaining. She was involved and would rather get to the heart of the matter. Alter!Keith accepts this and apologizes to Leon for the pause. Leon assures him that he doesn’t mind, and instead thanks him for his thoughtfulness towards Emma.

Leon’s expression grows serious and the air becomes charged as he continues. Without mincing any words, they are without any leads. Alter!Keith asks if the prisoners are refusing to talk, but Leon explains that it’s worse, they’re all dead. Just before they were to be questioned, they all simultaneously died, presumably by taking poison.

Emma feels a chill go up her spine.

Alter!Keith recalls the battle, while they had similar weapons and clothing, indicating a commonality, they all had different fighting styles. He’s thinking that rather than a cohesive group, this was a band of hirelings brought together by a mastermind. Not the kind of people who would all simultaneously take poison willingly.

Moving on, Liam, Keith’s butler, has already given a report of the attack. While it’s clear that they were targeting Keith, Leon is concerned about why the carriage was also attacked. It could have been as a method to distract Keith and make him vulnerable to further attacks, but what if they were targeting the other occupants?

Leon looks at Emma, and she wonders about it herself. As Belle, she would be a prime target for someone wanting to weaken Rhodolite further. However, outside of the Rhodolite Princes, only Keith and Liam know about her status.

Unless Keith planned the attack? But that wouldn’t make sense either, he already had a way to weaken Rhodolite by simply releasing the truth of her existence as Belle. Besides, she doubts either personality of Keith would do that.

Alter!Keith apologizes and explains that he can see no reason for anyone in the carriage to be targeted. The assailants most likely were planning on using Emma and Liam as a means to distract him during the fight.

Leon asks if Keith has any idea why he would be targeted in an attack. Alter!Keith laughs a little and points out that he’s royalty. It would be quicker to count the pebbles on the side of the road than it would be to name all the reasons people would have to hold a grudge against him.

Not looking surprised, Leon nods in acceptance. Emma feels a sudden gulf between her and Keith, seeing a world full of threats and near death experiences. She feels helpless and frustrated, realizing that there’s nothing she can do to help Keith, though he has helped her time and time again.

In the end, they cannot discern a clear motive behind the attack on Keith. Rhodolite is strengthening its security while Keith recovers his eyesight and rests at the castle.

After Leon leaves, Alter!Keith grumbles at Emma about what she said at the end. She had offered to be his assistant while his eyesight recovers, and he complains about her good nature. Emma insists that she would like to, as a way to do something for him. She cannot do much, beyond the trivial matters that any member of the palace bureaucracy can do, but she wants to help him. Besides, this is an opportunity to get to know him and Nice!Keith better.

Alter!Keith snorts, he remembers her mentioning something like that earlier. Does she expect the three of them to hold hands and get along?

Well, yes.

Alter!Keith asks for the reason behind this wish of hers. Emma thinks that if they can get along, Alter!Keith will stop wanting to kill Nice!Keith. Alter!Keith doesn’t understand what she sees in him, but Emma thinks that there are parts to both of them reflected in each other.

Alter!Keith relents, laying down on his side and using his arm as a pillow. He’ll be in Emma’s care, since there are things he needs Liam to investigate now that Alter!Keith’s housebound. Emma enthusiastically thanks him, and Alter!Keith tells her to go back to her room. She has lessons with Sariel tomorrow, and he doesn’t need her falling asleep in the middle on his account.

Emma agrees, and starts to leave, before realizing she had forgotten something. She turns to Alter!Keith and thanks him for saving her during the attack.

There is a long silence before Alter!Keith reminds her that it was the other one who protected her. Emma understands that he’s right, but it feels wrong to not thank him. So, she thanks him for trying to save her, after all, he did say earlier that he was trying to take over during the fight.

Alter!Keith is silent before he grumbles that it had nothing to do with her, he just didn’t want the other one to slip up and get both of them killed. Alter!Keith rolls over, turning his back to Emma, effectively ending their talk. Emma wishes him a good night, thinking that he’s sulking like a small child.

Once Emma leaves, the infirmary is suddenly very silent. Alter!Keith rolls onto his back and lets out a self-deprecating sigh. He holds up the hand that held Emma’s, clenching and unclenching his fingers. He wonders about the girl who wants to become friends with two different people in the same body.

*A few days after the carriage attack*

Clavis notes that Keith’s eyes still haven’t recovered. Emma agrees, though she points out that they are getting better. Already, Keith can see the distance of two chairs next to each other. Nokto doesn’t think it sounds like much progress.

Emma had spent the morning assisting the foreign affairs faction and was helping clean up after the latest meeting. Nokto and Clavis are lingering to speak with her.

Nokto notes that Emma has been assisting Keith since the attack, and Clavis adds that rumors have it that she’s with Keith morning to night, 24 hours every day. Emma disagrees, it’s only been a few hours every day, just while Liam is out on Keith’s business. All Emma has been doing was sorting papers and letters, and some dictated written replies.  Nokto mourns that while this is a ripe chance for her, Emma has yet to ‘spend the night’ with Keith. Yet.

Emma is a bit surprised. After that chat she had with Gilbert right after she and Keith spent the night together, she would have thought that everyone knew about it. Apparently, only Gilbert knew, and he hasn’t gotten around to spreading the rumor.

(Gilbert is a great friend)

Clavis looks at Emma’s flushed face, and wonders if she’s enjoying the time she’s spending with Keith. Emma defends herself, yes it’s pleasant, but she’s not ‘enjoying it’ per se. She just likes being helpful. Clavis and Nokto just grin at her as if there’s something about all of this that she just hasn’t noticed yet.

Clavis gives Emma a break and changes the subject. He asks about the poison used against Keith, how it was very unusual. Most poisons are made to kill the victim, this one slows down bodily functions but leaves the victim alive. It severs their senses and control of their movements, turning them into a sort of ‘living doll’. Clavis looked into the ingredients, and the important ones came specifically from Jade, plants that needed royal permission to be exported.

Nokto complains that this doesn’t actually help them figure out the mastermind. It could be that they’re from Jade, or that just that they’re trying to implicate Jade. As Emma cleans, they talk more about their hypothesis, before concluding that there is not enough of a lead to do more than speculate.

In the end, Clavis warns Emma that if Keith is subjected to the same poison twice, especially if he’s not fully recovered from the first dose, it might affect more than just his eyesight.

Later that evening, the castle doctor is examining Keith. His eyes haven’t finished healing, but other than that, everything else is fully recovered. The doctor marvels at how quickly Keith has recovered, and Alter!Keith jokes that he’s uselessly healthy. Based off of past experiences, he guesses that he’ll be completely back to normal within a month. The doctor is amazed at the recovery speed.

The doctor ends the examination, asking Keith to alert him if anything changes. Alter!Keith agrees, standing up from the chair, and approaching Emma. She gently holds his hand as they leave the infirmary, heading towards Keith’s rooms.

Alter!Keith asks if Emma intends to hold his hand the entire way back to his rooms. Emma explains that she thinks he would feel anxious walking by himself when he can’t see. Rather than guide him, she’s hoping to convey solidarity and warmth by holding his hand. So, she’ll hold hands with him until his eyes heal at least.

Alter!Keith makes a noise, and Emma thinks that he’s lost interest in the conversation. They continue down the hallway in utter silence, and Emma wonders if she’s being too pushy with him. This is not the first time Alter!Keith has expressed some discomfort with her.

Alter!Keith groans, his body listing to the side as if he is worn out. Worried, Emma reaches out to support him, but suddenly she’s trapped up against Alter!Keith. Caught her. Alter!Keith smiles mischievously down at her.

Emma chides him, what would he have done if he had really fallen just then. Alter!Keith grins and says he won’t fall, after all, that’s what she’s here for. He suddenly picks up Emma, and all her thoughts disappear. Alter!Keith laughs that she’s so thin.

Emma chides him for lifting her up when he’s still recovering. Alter!Keith isn’t worried about lifting her, until she gets to his weight class at least. He returns Emma to the ground, and she finds her heart pounding. She pouts, Alter!Keith really is the mean one.

There’s a hint of innocence about him as well, mixed with his cruelty, Emma can’t read Alter!Keith’s movements. IF anything, he’s just unpredictable.

And his arm is still around her waist.

Emma asks if he plans on letting her go, but Alter!Keith tells her that he feels even more supported like this. His anxiety is fading as they speak, so he should just stay like this. Emma looks at him and gives in. When he puts on an innocent face like this, she can’t really deny him.

Alter!Keith asks if Emma had spent the day with the princes, and she agrees that she did. Additionally, she has lessons tomorrow afternoon, so she’ll have to limit herself to assisting Keith in the morning. Suddenly, she remembers the discussion she had with Nokto and Clavis, and after glancing around to ensure their privacy, she quickly recounts the information about the poison.

Which Alter!Keith already knew.

It does make sense, and Emma wonders if he knew about the origin of the ingredients back on that first night. She asks if Alter!Keith has any clue who was behind it. Unfortunately, Alter!Keith doesn’t know much. Maybe it was someone from Jade, or maybe the rumors about the secret Rhodolite-Obsidian arms trade is true and he’s getting too close to that.

Although, the more he investigates the last point, the less evidence he finds of it’s existence. Alter!Keith and Liam are both convinced that the rumored arms trade is just that, a rumor. While he’s happy to hear that, he’s wondering how these rumors reached the King of Jade.

For now, Alter!Keith is going to focus on recovering, at least until his eyes are completely healed. He’s having Liam look into a few final details while he recovers, but then his reason for staying will be gone.

They continue walking to Keith’s room, Alter!Keith’s pace slow enough to accommodate Emma. She’s happy that he’s no longer pretending to be Nice!Keith while they’re alone, and thinks that he’s accepted her presence as a matter of course.

However, now Emma finds herself missing Nice!Keith as well. She hasn’t seen him since the carriage attack and wonders if he’s woken up since then. Of course, she hasn’t been with Keith all day, and so maybe he has woken up just fine, and she has been coincidentally missing him. At the very least, she would like to thank him for protecting her during the attack.

A lonely sigh escapes Emma’s mouth as she mutters that she misses him. She doesn’t see Alter!Keith’s eyes waver.

[ninhaoma-ya]

Chapter 1078 — Escape limit

I really enjoy the cover story! Good for Judge and Caesar; sad for Reiju and Ichiji, sighing in defeat. Maybe there is hope for the next generation of Vinsmokes after all?

Confirmation about the Void Century research conducted on Egghead! As well as a nice little nod to the difference between government-sponsored weapons research (Egghead) and ancient institutionalised academia (Ohara) — one you can just bomb, the other will bomb you back.

Cool use of the silhouette-against-explosion-trope here.

She is one cold-blooded snake, stomping Pythagoras like that, tho’ :(

I wonder if Boa and S-Snake’s powers are reversible through haki? If Law’s earlier negation of Doc Q’s sick-sick fruit is anything to go by, I’d say yes; her mero-mero power just has the unfortunate side effect of paralyzation, making your haki useless… power-up for Franky in the pipeline?

Backup! Backup! Backup!

The flying thing is cool as well.

And Atlas is one big girl.

We knew that. But still.

All rights, it’s nice that Sanji’s embracing his human-exoskeleton-thing. And his eyebrow has reversed, so it’s proper Germa Science! going on. But does he have to look so pleased with himself?

Ooo, also a lot of ideas about how his mum sacrificed herself so he could be normal and all the love she had and how that could be seen as the power of love too and how he continues the love and—

—and Luffy and Zoro are being absolute morons again.

On the other hand, Kaku’ snot showing his critical thinking skills either right now, reacting way too late to being called Usopp.

And Luffy, really? You’ve fought Pigeon Guy earlier, why are you surprised he’d happily eliminate the weaker links to rattle the stronger ones? He’s done it before. You threatened/tricked him into not doing that once this fight is finished!

On one hand, it’s the exact same tactic Luffy had against Kaido: bash your head against the wall until you think of something else.

On the other hand, I miss his earlier adaptation and quick battle-thinking. After the time-skip it feels like he’s just… hitting things again and again. Which, don’t read me wrong, is a pleasure at times (see: pummelling Caesar, pummelling Doflamingo, pummelling Cracker, pummelling Kaido…). But I do miss the wacky pre-timeskip fights: Luffy having to figure out how to fight with a ton of gold hanging of his arm. Luffy with a Door through his face. Luffy breaking Kuro’s swords. Water Luffy.

But we move on, to what will be known as the Egghead Incident, apparently.

What do Bonney see? What secrets do Kuma’s memories hold? O_o

Traitor speaking, how may I help you?

Love Angry Lilith in the background.

Although art quality has gone down, Oda really can tell a story. This is the last panels on the spread and we still don’t know who it is. But it is someone huge: they have to bend to fit through the door and their shadow is massive on Vegapunk.

But who can it be?

York is huge.

She was petrified by S-Snake; did she manage to unpetrify her as well in the chaos? Does she have an antidote? Do S-Snakes powers, unlike Boa’s, only last for a certain amount of time before unraveling?

I wonder if killing of the satellites destroys that part of Vegapunk’s personality or if they.. return, somehow?

And it’s a really nice comment on the need for balance in people. You are not only your feelings or desires: you are the combination of those, keeping each other in check and balance. People who lose their feelings make worse decisions that people with a healthy blend of rationality and emotion, for example, and no human can be completely rational. Vegapunk let his desires lose on the world, and where did that leave him? Prisoner in his own cellar.

And York: they don’t let you become a Celestial Dragon just like that, you know that, right Guessing the Elder Star on their ways has a special mission with regards to her…

Interesting chapter, nice plot drop. I give it a treasonous heart and a desire for the extravagant things in life (and total ignorance of the suffering producing those things).

[chellerbelles]

Still working on the Murder Mystery stuff, so decided to go with a scene where they discuss poison.

Rogue & Gambit Week 2023: Murder Mystery

The poison garden was hidden amongst the larger gardens of the property. It was small, but beautiful and elegant.

“Hmm, not as big as the Assassin’s poison garden, but a lot more refined,” Gambit said as he and Rogue walked around. “The huge signs spoil things a bit though.”

Rogue grinned. “Well, some of these are poison to the touch. They have to be careful.”

“I’m surprised it’s legal.”

“It’s Heritage listed or something.”

“Ah. Explains it.”

“Oooh Foxglove,” Gambit said. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

“The Assassins don’t have it?” Rogue asked as they wander over to the pink and purple flowered plants.

“No. They used it, but since Digitalis isn’t used in heart medication as much anymore they stopped using it.” Gambit gave her a grin. “If you gave Foxglove to someone on Digitalis-based heart meds, you could get away with murder, because there would already be Digitalis in their system. There’d be no way to tell if it was murder or accidental overdose.”

“I know,” Rogue said. “It got used in an Agatha Christie novel that way.” She didn’t add that Mystique had used that technique once herself.

“I really need to read me some Agatha Christie one of these days.” He frowned as his eyes shifted to another set of plants. “Well, I know Belladonna when I see it.”

“What are you more afraid of, the plant or the ex?” Rogue asked with a smirk.

“Jury’s still out,” he replied with a wink. “Have you heard of Aqua Tofana?”

Rogue nodded. “Invented by Giulia Tofana in the 1600s, which she and her daughter and staff used to sell to women wanting to kill off their husbands. And they did so successfully for decades. It was disguised as a beauty treatment or religious item. And they taught the prospective widow how to behave and say to the police.”

Gambit smirked. “Yeah. I thought you might have. They think Belladonna was one of the ingredients.”

“And arsenic and lead, if I recall correctly. Took a few drops to kill, but it looked like it was the flu or whatever. So they’d get sick and have time to settle their affairs before the poison finally killed them.” Rogue gave him a grin. “Couldn’t work these days. They can test for all that stuff.”

“It’s just getting harder and harder to pull off the perfect murder.”

“Well, aren’t you glad that’s not your line of work?”

“More than I can possible say.” Another group of plants caught his eye, once that looked like wild carrots or parsley. “Ah, Hemlock. Well, if they were growing this, I don’t wonder Marian was called a witch.”

An unexpected voice cut in: “Hemlock is a weed and grows itself just fine.”

Gambit and Rogue looked over to see a skinny, middle aged woman with black hair. She was tanned up to the middle of her forehead where her floppy hat sat. She wore thick leather gardening gloves, a long-sleeved shirt, and overalls.

“Good thing you can’t get poisoned just by touching it, then,” Gambit said cheerfully. “Hi, I’m Remy. And you are?”

“Angela. Nice to meet you,” she replied pleasantly.

“I’m Rogue,” Rogue said. “Have you been working here long? You seem familiar?”

A little too familiar, actually. Rogue couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew this woman.

“Oh, no, I’ve only been here a few months,” Angela replied, and looked back at Gambit. “Most animals are smart enough not to each hemlock, but there are some birds who can eat it, and do if they’re hungry enough. Only probably is, is that even though they survive eating it, anyone who eats the bird after gets poisoned.”

“Ooh nasty,” Gambit said, and his eyes shifted over to the Hemlock sign.

“And there’s no antidote. All they can do if you have Hemlock poisoning is treat the symptoms and hope,” Angela went on.

“Symptoms include vomiting - well, what poison doesn’t? - How do you have excess saliva and dry mouth at the same time?” Gambit said musingly. “Rapid heartbeat, high blood pressure,  muscle weakness, tremors…”

“I thought Hemlock caused paralysis?” Rogue asked with a frown.

“It does, that’s in the delayed complications section, along with slow heartbeat, low blood pressure, kidney failure, and muscle breakdown and death,” Gambit said. “Doesn’t say how long the delay is.”

“I believe they can start within 15 minutes,” Rogue said. “If I’m remembering correctly.”

The amount of information she’d picked up from Mystique on how to kill people was staggering.

“Not a lot of time, huh?” Gambit mused. “You’d be screwed if you were alone.”

[azsazz]

cc3 anon

spoilers below cut

CC Anon! (I’m so sorry if you’re sick of me)

I said they can regrow limbs because Baxian ate Ruhn’s hand off in prison and Ruhn was fine once the Gorsian shackles didn’t stop his regenerative healing. Just like how the wings just grow back if you cut them which I thought was so stupid when Micah cut Hunt’s wings off in CC1. No one has any real handicaps in this series beyond their own ineptness.

Yeah I remember that happening and knew that Hunt could regrow his wings but I didn't realize or remember that apparently anyone can do it lol. oh yeah for sure i love how they had hidden powers too and everything just literally seems to happen out of convenience for them lol. no one is putting in any real work.

The antidote was too easy. The parasite bit was so stupid. I’m actually surprised there was barely any mention about synth after CC1. I figured maybe they’d try to manufacture it properly to give the humans abilities if they wanted to fight. I’m pretty sure they said it was being sold on the streets so maybe that comes back for book 4 idk!

LITERALLY IT TOOK LESS THAN 24 HOURS TO FIND THE CURE COME ON. why even have it as a plot line if its so easy to fix...smh like there's no element of surprise for ANYTHING anymore. not even the mc deaths because it happens in every damn book. the only reason she brought amren back to life i swear is because at that moment she was like oh i should interconnect these series.

The Viper Queen upset me so much because she can’t dress! Every jumpsuit worse than the last! WHY WAS SHE ONLY WEARING JUICY COUTURE SWEATSUITS AND HIGH HEELED SNEAKERS I DIED

YES five different bonus scenes for different editions?? I hope no one actually bought all the editions to read them :/ They’ve already posted them here 😭. And in their bonus scene, ONE MONTH after the war, Ruhn and Lidia get married 😶

I saw videos of people buying them and it made me a lil sick lol. like thats fucking over $100? That's insane to me. Literally Ruhn and Lidia did not fuck around they said we're moving in and getting hitched. wouldn't be surprised if she's pregnant in the next book lol.

I wonder if the fourth book would mostly be about rebuilding and any political conflict from after the war. I hope she wouldn’t try to introduce another supernatural villain to stretch out the series. Watching TOG become a 7 book series in real-time and whatever ACOTAR has become, I’m confident in her ability to extend a series whether it needs it or not.

I honestly can't see it being about rebuilding and politics unless it was another characters pov because bryce made it clear that she doesn't want to be in charge? which i find selfish that she became queen and immediately shut down all fae politics and then basically is like figure it out yourself i want nothing to do with it lol? like what? take some fucking responsibility for once girl. i was thinking it could be more tharion based because of the end. i'd actually like to see him an sathia get together i think they would be a good couple.

Like they literally shot Sabine’s face off and she was fine after a little bit of first light 😭😭

Actually so dumb...no one has the ability to die here i guess, even with the parasite. smh

[hopefulvittori]

Birds of Prey - Chapter 4

Stalker!Carlo/OC & Romeo (AU)

Reposting my novel from ao3. Enjoy!

A tragedy struck when the father of puppets suddenly died in an accident. While the whole city of Krat has been mourning the engineer, the son of Geppetto only felt the sweet smell of liberation. What is he going to do now that the source of his hatred is gone?

An AU series where the puppet frenzy didn't happen, Carlo and Romeo didn't perish from the petrification disease. This is the story of a hawk, a falcon and an eagle about finding their purpose while they're uncovering dark secrets behind the origins of Krat's prosperity.

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Chapter 4: Pangs of conscience

The doctor at the sick-bay diagnosed Carlo with a slight concussion. Although Rocco's punch wasn't strong enough to cause more serious injury than an ugly bruise, he hit the back of his head from the fall. The medic suggested that he should rest at least until tomorrow. He certainly wasn't happy about the news. Despite this, it's not like he could've done anything else in Romeo's absence. On top of that, he felt really tired (not that he would've admitted it). With that in mind, the teenager went back to his dorm at the Charity House where he quickly fell into a carnivorous slumber.

While he's been drifting between dream and reality, memories from the past few months came back. The fleeting images were so clear like it happened yesterday. Although his memory was sharp to begin with, it scared him how vividly he saw those recollections of the past.

──────────

"What are you reading?"

What a good way to start the Saturday morning, or so she thought. Vittoria only wanted to spend some fine hours at the orphanage's garden, reading her books in peace. However, a certain boy sabotaged her plans once again. She noticed Carlo's shadow covering her form. He stood there before the occupied bench, towering over Vittoria, questioning her. Before she could give him a proper answer, he kept going on:

"Wait, don't even answer. It's probably dull adult stuff."

"...How old even are you?" She looked at him with an unamused face.

"Hmm, not old enough to appreciate dull adult stuff." Carlo shrugged indifferently. "Why are you even reading this?"

"To kill some time, to learn something about the alchemists, to find a cure for the disease... pick your choice." she said flatly, tilting her head to one side. The mischievous boy blinked at her in fake surprise.

"Do you want to find the cure for the petrification disease? Wow." Carlo's words dripped with sarcasm, as he leant his back to a tree next to the bench.

"I don't know what is the problem with that." Vittoria closed the book, placing it onto her lap.

"Oh nothing at all. I just considered that not even the best alchemists could find a cure." he gave her a bitter laugh. "Why do you think that you're any different?

He's been testing her patience for a month now. He tried to make her upset on purpose. Although she felt insulted from Carlo's constant naggings, Vittoria respected him enough to give proper answers. 

She gave him a serene yet sad smile and said: "Every poison has an antidote. Thus, I believe there's one." 

The disobedient youth didn't reply. He quietly took a look at her with an unreadable expression. He couldn't understand her. Despite everything, she believed. She enkindled that spark of hope. A whirl of wonder and irritation set in his mind.  

'Why does she have to be like that?' he asked himself in exasperation.  He acted without a second thought. The boy didn't say anything when he approached her bench and snatched her book. She looked at him with a dumbfounded face as she got up from her sitting place.

"Why you... give it back, now!" Vittoria shouted as she tried to snatch the book back. Unluckily for her, Carlo was faster. He pulled back and dangled it just above her head. She took a deep breath in frustration. "Seriously, Carlo, give it back!"

"No can do. I just want to help with your research." he said with a sarcastic grin. "I'll hand it over if you can catch me though!"

Both of them knew it was a lie. As soon as she tried to make a jump for her book, the boy started running. While he clearly enjoyed himself from the chase, Vittoria couldn't say the same. And although she missed a good reading, she didn't want to get angrier at the mischievous teenager. She gave up after a few minutes then turned her back on the boy in annoyance.

Despite the girl's desperate desire to be left alone, the son of Geppetto couldn't grant that wish.

──────────

It was a sunny afternoon during late summer. The son of Geppetto was waiting for the younger Durante at the entrance of the Monad Charity House. As soon as she saw him, leaning his back at the closed door with arms crossed, she visibly braced herself for the upcoming confrontation. Even if she tried to ignore his words, she couldn't get past without asking him to get out of the way. Argument with the mischievous boy was inevitable. Thus, Vittoria straightened her back and gapped the distance between herself and Carlo. She wanted to say something first. A preemptive strike with kindness would've cut it... or so she thought. While he looked troubled with his inner thoughts, the moment he took an eye on her, the frown slightly eased. He flashed a smug half-smile at her. 

"Visiting Miss Sophia again? You really don't have anything else to do, do you?"

"I do appreciate how you're trying to spare me some concern, but I would be more content if you could leave me alone." she said quietly, spreading her hands out widely. Carlo raised an eyebrow aloofly.

"Why? Does the truth hurt so much?"

Ah, she tried to escape. Vittora wanted to get past him by ignoring his presence. However, the mischievous boy stopped her by grabbing her arm. She looked at him pleadingly. "Carlo, please..."

"Ah, but I can see through your act." he said in a quiet yet serious tone. "You can convince Miss Sophia, Master Valentinus or anyone else at the Charity House..." He squeezed her wrist slightly, scowling at her. "But not me. Once you get what you want, you'll just forget about us."

As she hissed in slight discomfort, the girl gazed into his amber eyes with uncertainty. She met with a fiery wall of anger. Like an invisible yet powerful force, it pushed her away. It kept her away because it felt pain - enormous grief - at its core. It didn't want to be hurt ever again. This wall of fire was the true self of an abandoned boy. She couldn't hate, only pity him. Feel immense sadness for the loneliness he had to endure. 

Then again, there was that. The words of a wounded heart: 'You'll just forget about us.'  She raised her eyebrows in confusion. 

" Us or just you?"

The boy quietly gasped yet didn't say anything. This was new to the girl, seeing her tormentor like this. Vittoria looked at him questionly. He tried to avoid her curious gaze.  

"For your reputation, you're taking your sweet time just to tyrannize me." She leaned closer to him. "What do you feel when you're doing this to me? Satisfaction? Happiness?"

Her questions met with deafening silence once again. She could feel Carlo's grip getting a bit weaker though. Vittoria knitted her eyebrows and shook her head in sadness.

"...Or do you hate me this much?"

The quietude was a stark contrast of the earlier confidence the son of Geppetto held. He couldn't deny nor confirm the girl's claim. The doubt he had felt almost pierced his heart. He slowly let go of her hand then looked away in uncertainness. The girl gently rubbed her hand. The boy's rough hold left a mark on her sensitive skin. Despite this, Vittoria didn't flinch away from him.

He tried to speak up, but couldn't find the strength to. Although she was surprisingly patient with him, she had finite time within the orpahange's walls. When she saw the futility of making him talk, she sighed in helplessness.

"I thought at least you had a backbone to admit it. Guess I was wrong."  Her azure eyes gazed into his amber ones, almost judgingly. She made one more step forward to the entrance door. "I won't forget about any of you. After all, I usually come here to take my mind off certain things." And with that, she gently touched his shoulder to move him out of her way. Surprisingly, the boy didn't show any resistance. He only watched her with confusion and dejectment written all over his face. 

Vittoria entered the orphanage, leaving Carlo behind. She couldn't even bother to take a final look at him. He was quite certain that she lost any kind of patience. Although he got what really wanted... then why did his heart ache so much? 

──────────

Carlo read all of her stories. Surprisingly, he liked them. Especially the last one, despite the fact that he took her pamphlet before the girl could even finish it. It was about a bird keeper, living beneath the earth. This young man was born crippled and blind. Despite his own hopeless situation, he sought to see the heavens. Even if he couldn't do it on his own volition, his desire was as firm as the earth in which he lived. He carved bird-shaped forms from the mud, then he gave them his breath. The mud-birds became flesh. Their driving force was to see the bird keeper's wish fully realized. Thus, the flock of mud-made birds flew away to find what lay beyond the earthen firmaments. They greeted and said goodbye to many creatures of the surface. The birds learned both the joy of new beginnings and the sorrow of endings. It was a heavy burden which they must've bear. For the sake of their creator, they had to be strong.

'What is the point of being strong...?'

A simple yet sorrowful question was written down at the bottom of the page. The rest of the paper was weary. It looked like the author tried to write the perfect ending for her story, yet failed to. In her desperation, she left the tale incomplete.

For all his stubbornness, the son of Geppetto couldn't stand this. While the author's goody two shoes persona irritated him, her weak-willed side made his blood boil. She reminded him of his own younger self: the shy and weak boy who waited for his father to come home. And despite his son's desperate pleas, he didn't stay with him. He remembered how many times he cried himself to sleep, hoping that his father would console him. But Geppetto couldn't come. This is why the boy had to be strong. And this is why Carlo couldn't accept the abrupt ending of the tale. Even if he was nothing but tyrant to Durante Vittoria, his most mischievous act still yet had to be done:

Finish her story with his own two hands.

──────────

He abruptly woke up with a sharp pain at the back of his head. The boy silently hissed as he slowly got up while holding the pained area. He looked for some lightsource, but only the moon's gentle gleam offered some sorts of. It was around midnight. While he heard some commotion coming from Rose Isabelle Street (since it was close to the Charity House), the usual bustling was done for the night. Carlo's eyes searched for Romeo's form. However, the tall blond boy didn't come back to their shared dorm room. Romeo's bed lay empty at the opposite side of his. Even when he tried to look for him from the window, he couldn't see his friend. The unruly youth knew about how much his secrets meant to him. So much so that Romeo didn't tell any of them. While it hurt him, Carlo respected his decision. It was the Sweeper-to-be's choice after all. He was more than capable of protecting himself. With that in mind, he tried not to worry too much. He fell back onto his bed and closed his eyes once again.

The next time he came around was in the afternoon. Even then, he would have overslept if not for his best friend. Romeo was sitting next to him with crossed legs, roughly shaking his shoulder. Carlo tiredly groaned as he opened one eye. The blond youth was there, bathing in the sunlight. He tiredly smiled then greeted him with a quiet "hey". The brown haired boy frowned at him, pressing his lips in a thin line. He then turned away from him. Even without saying anything, Romeo understood his best friend's grudge. Carlo was worried about him, even if he couldn't show it more openly.

"Sorry about that. I had some intrigues that needed to be taken care of." Romeo scratched the back of his head. The other boy shook his head.

"It's not like I can stop you from doing those... schemings." Carlo sighed deeply. "What about the address?"

He gave him a thumbs up. "That too, was taken care of." 

The son of Geppetto slightly nodded. When he tried to get up from the bed, he hissed once again. Seeing this, Romeo wanted to hold him back. Of course, the ever defiant Carlo pushed his hand away. He brushed his bruise with the tip of his fingers. However, even the gentlest touch caused him discomfort.

"Are you okay?" Romeo asked, raising his eyebrows in worry. The shorter boy grunted in affirmation.

"I'm fine. Let's get over with this."

They spent the road to the Durante Household in comfortable silence. By the time they reached the Quarantine Zone, the sun was already setting. While Carlo felt uneasy around the infected, Romeo assured him it was fine. The smaller boy wasn't completely sure. He didn't even know what to think about Vittoria now. She's been moving around the Quarantine Zone on a daily basis. While Romeo didn't tell him about the sudden puppet attack, he mentioned that the Durante girl moved around these parts without any consequences. Maybe he misjudged her on that part as well. In her own way, she's also been a rebellious young girl, trying to fight against her shackles.

By the time they reached Vittoria's home, afternoon turned to evening. Darkness blanketed all over Krat. Street lights and neon signs illuminated the vast boulevards and squares. Despite the light sources, the two boys remained enshrouded in darkness. They stand tall on the storied-house, gazing at the home of the Durante family. The plank laid before them, waiting for bystanders such as them to get across to the balcony. However, they weren't alone.  Durante Vittoria was standing at the balcony's ledge, gazing at the moonlit Krat in silent reverie. Carlo was on the edge - quite literally and figuratively. Seeing her in a vulnerable and lonely position made his heart beat a bit faster. Pangs of conscience chew at his core. Every self-confidence he felt went out of the window the moment he saw her. Romeo saw his friend's hesitation. A rascally smirk spread across his face. Seeing Carlo in this state somehow made him delighted. Sadly, he couldn't let him stay like this forever. He needed to act or his friend would never keep his promise. Romeo suddenly pushed him from the back. The brown haired boy let out a small yelp as he tried to stop himself from falling beyond the banister. 

"What the hell are you doing!?" he shouted, looking back at his friend. Romeo held out his arms in surrender.

"Sorry, my hands slipped!"  

"Who goes there!?" The blond youth did that on purpose so the sudden shouting was heard by the girl. Vittoria looked at the direction of the shadowy storeyed house.

Carlo's gaze darkened as he glared at Romeo. But before he could say anything to his partner in crime, the Durante girl repeated her question. The taller teenager got past the other boy and waved at the direction of their target.

"Why good evening, Lady Durante!" he yelled to her, spreading his arms out in a cheerful way. "Thank you for keeping your promise by showing up."

"Romeo wha...?" She looked at him in confusion, scratching her head. The girl looked past the blond boy suspiciously. "Is anyone else with you or...?" 

But before she could finish her question, he leapt out of the shadows. Giuseppe Carlo was standing there next to his friend with an unreadable expression painted all over his face. Whether it was uncertainty or guilt, Vittoria couldn't see it from such a distance. Her breath hitched and glared at the tall boy in silent anger. 

'Well now at least they're more upset at me than each other.' Romeo thought in amusement as one of his arms encircled around the mischievous boy's rigid form.  

"My apologies, milady, but it seems this young man claimed an urgent arrangement with you." He waggled his fingers nonchalantly. "I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait." After he let go of Carlo, he backed away from the ledge. When he saw the boy's darkened gape, he winked at him. "Have luck, my friend. "And with that, Romeo bowed in a theatrical manner and left the roof as quickly as possible.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. While Carlo didn't move an inch, Vittoria's hands were slightly shaking. None of them wanted to make the first step, yet it was necessary. As the boy wanted to absolve his own guilt by apologizing, the girl wanted to know why he came all over here. She was curious yet mistrustful. If he couldn't make his point, she had to do the preemptive strike.

She crossed her arms across her chest, furrowing her eyebrows. "...What are you doing here?"

The infamous son of Geppetto got his tongue tied. He looked at her with unsureness. "I... I would like to apologize."

Vittoria scowled at him in confusion. She wasn't quite sure what the boy said. She shook her head with open arms and said: "Sorry, I couldn't hear that. " She pointed to the plank before them. "Feel free to use that. Come here and you can tell it to my face.

'This woman...' Carlo sighed in annoyance. Despite that, he wagged his head with a small smile. As he made his first steps on the plank, a sudden dizziness came over him. He wasn't entirely sure whether it was from his head injury or the fear of heights. When he gazed down, he saw the narrow streets of Elysion. There was a small garden before the Durante Household's entrance. Two huge black dogs were lying there in chains. Surely, it wasn't the best idea to fall down lest he would've met his end by these canines. Although he was as careful as possible, his vision became a bit blurry. He sighed deeply as he tried to calm himself. Seeing his inner turmoil, Vittoria looked at him with slight worry. He waggled from one side to another. Before he could sway too far from the plank, she quickly approached the struggling Carlo and held onto his hand. She gave it a small squeeze as a way of reassurance. The boy curtly nodded as she led him through the rest of the plank. When they reached the balcony, she let go of his hand and took a good look at him. She squinted at the sight of his bruise. Like a flower, it bloomed in violent purple at the left side of his face. Vittoria tried to reach for the injury, but he backed away until his back felt the balcony's stone ledge.

"...It's nothing." he said quietly, looking away in embarrassment. Although the girl was unconvinced, she bowed her head.

She swallowed a shaky breath, blinking at the boy. "What did you want to tell me?"

Carlo slowly but surely reached for his pocket. He took out the black pamphlet and held it out to Vittoria.

"I would like to apologize."

Hearing that made her world turned upside down. The young Durante girl wasn't entirely sure she heard him right. While she hesitantly reached for her belonging, she stared at him in confusion, tightening her lips. Seeing Vittoria's lack of meaningful reaction, Carlo fakely coughed.

"...I'm sorry."

"For what?" Her voice was quiet yet firm and cold. Her hands were clenched to fists as those were shaking. "For insulting me? Spilling ink on my drink? Robbing me of my belongings?" She bared her teeth in silent fury. 

The brown haired youth's breath hitched. Despite seeing her upset so many times, this was a new side of her. He was unsure about what to do with himself. His quickened breathing and hunched posture spoke about his guiltiness, but the girl wasn't easily convinced.

"Do you have any idea how much pain you have caused?" Vittoria's voice cracked a bit, though she didn't show any sadness. She was more bitter if anything.

Carlo swallowed, pacing back and forth. "Vittoria, I... I didn't know about your circumstances. If I knew, I wouldn't have made those jokes about you."

Then out of the blue, she looked at him furiously. She stepped dangerously close to the boy, trapping him to the ledge. "My circumstances!? That doesn't change anything, Carlo! You chose cruelty!" As she yelled at him, her cerulean eyes deeply gazed into his amber ones with vexation. As she took a deep breath to try to ground herself, she chillfully asked: "...Is this how you want to be a Stalker?"

Touché. She hit a sore spot where he didn't expect to. While it was a general knowledge around the orphanage that he really wanted to be a Stalker, the true reason why wasn't. Apparently the girl read him like an open book. Despite his bad reputation, Carlo wanted to help people so no one had to rely on puppet technology. Even if it was out of hatred for his father, he wanted to be kind to those who needed it. But his actions towards a helpless girl was anything but kind. Although he knew that, she questioned him. And that angered him. The boy clenched his jaw, ready to get back at the girl. However, as soon as he tried to tower over her, sounds of dogs' (probably the same ones he saw from the plank) barking interrupted him. Vittoria hissed in frustration as she grabbed Carlo's hand once again. 

"Drat, those stupid mutts..." she said with an exasperated sigh. "Let's get inside before they're going to notice you." 

The patio door was slightly open before them. He let the girl get inside before him before following her. Once they were inside, Vittoria completely closed the door behind them. Before she could beckon him to sit down somewhere, Carlo looked around her room. It was a small but comfortable gallery room. The warm brown and red colors and the bookshelves already made him comfortable enough. There was a small fireplace at the right corner of the room. That was the only part where he couldn't find any bookcases. Even her bed was surrounded by shelves. She was basically living in her books. Despite the newfound wonder he had felt towards her, he noticed the empty basket next to her bed. It probably belonged to Vittoria's cat. Carlo looked at it pensively.

"That was my cat's place." she said solemnly as she sat down to the end of her bed, hugging herself. "I had to get rid of her..."

"Why?"

"The mutts from earlier? Those were my sister-in-law's dogs. It was either them or my cat." she sighed. "That's why I went to the orphanage last time. I asked Matron to take care of her."

Carlo looked at her with curiously raised eyebrows. "What did your brother say?"

Vittoria shrugged, gazing down in a defeated manner. "...Nothing. I needed to get rid of Pumpkin."

"This is so unfair..." the boy gritted his teeth then clenched his fists in frustration. The girl chuckled bitterly.

"Life is unfair, Carlo."

"You should've said something. Anything."

"You don't know her OR my brother." She narrowed her eyes scornfully. "As soon as they've got married, I'm nothing in their eyes. Just another mouth to be fed."

He swallowed then looked around once more. While the girl had been avoiding the boy's gaze for a while, she pointed at a chair before her desk next to the windows. Carlo pulled the chair towards the bed as quietly as possible and sat down before Vittoria. They've been staying that way for a few minutes, in a less awkward silence. This time, however, the boy tried to break the quietness.

"I... have to admit something." he said hesitantly, rubbing his hands together in his newfound anticipation. The girl looked at him, letting out a questioning "hm?". "I followed you on that day... then I eavesdropped on you talking with Miss Sophia." He gave her a small apologetic smile.

Vittoria blinked in surprise then chuckled a bit. "I see now. You told this fact to Romeo. Then he dragged you all the way here to make your apology official. Because you were afraid to do it on your own."

Carlo puffed his cheeks then shook his head defiantly. "I wasn't afraid..."

He gave her credit for figuring it out though. He, too, judged the book by its cover. Remembering the past two days' events, everything was like a shaggy-dog story. Even the cause of his injury was a foolish joke if anything. Carlo unintentionally grinned at the thought while gazing downwards.

"Romeo is a good friend. I wish I had good friends such as him." Vittoria said quietly, tilting her head slightly upwards.

A silent reverie. Although the girl was still upset with the charming youth for lying, she would've lied to herself if she didn't enjoy his company. The way he spoke and acted filled her with joy. Sadly, the blond boy usually went overboard with his theatrical persona. It was hard to see his true persona beneath all those charms and dramatic flairs. Despite all that, she still wished for friends like him. An orphan boy's companionship. Seeing that she didn't judge Romeo for his social status, Carlo was filled with newfound wonder once again. He pressed his lips together and like an universal truth he said:

"...But you can."

His confidence shaken her. She wasn't even sure she heard that right. But the boy repeated it once again: "You can, Vittoria."

He leant closer then looked at her as warmly as possible. This time, the amber gaze of Carlo didn't hold any mischief nor hatred. This was a gaze of a young boy, elevated from his past traumas - at least for now. Although she still didn't fully trust him, his sudden kindness filled her with warmth.

...But a small kindness couldn't make those hateful voices go away. Even then, she heard Durante Arianne's voices in her head, loud and clear.

' It's not their fault, foolish girl! It's because you couldn't make your little grimalkin behave herself!'

'I only asked you to do this before we're coming back from the theatre! Are you really that incapable!?'

'If you wouldn't have crossed me, your brother wouldn't be disappointed.'

'...Why are you doing this to your brother?'

She ran a hand through her ashen brown hair with a shaky breath. The girl looked at Carlo with an empty gaze. "I... I can't."

"Why not?" He tilted his head, eyebrows knitted questionly. She sighed in frustration

"Because I... to them, I'm just a foolish girl."

His gaze darkened. Clenching his fists, he asked with righteous anger: "Is this what they - she - said to you? Or do you truly think you're foolish?"

She gasped then looked at her hands in a self-degrading way. The burn marks were still hurting beneath all those bandages. It reminded her of her own desperation. Even then, the woman only said "it was the girl's fault to be so careless". So she started to believe it...

...until firm fingers encircled around her wounded hands. Carlo grabbed her more forcefully than he really wanted to. As soon as he heard her hissing in pain, he immediately eased the pressure on her hands.

"If you're an air-headed fool, you wouldn't have this many books." he said quietly yet firmly, looking around her room. "You wouldn't read this much about the topics the alchemists and novelists keep spitting about." Amber eyes gazed into azure ones with surprising tenderness. "An air-headed fool wouldn't write about the things you're wishing for. And it's not a sin to think and act that way either."

"You... read my novels?" She asked with a shaky breath.

Carlo nodded curtly. "I did. Though I'm no bookworm such as you, but I did."

For a moment, comfortable silence surrounded them. While she looked at him emptyly, the boy's fingers tenderly brushed her bandaged hands.

"It's not a sin to wish for a better world, Vittoria. I think your hopes and ideals would make you a magnificent Stalker."

His words echoed in her mind. At that long yet fleeting moment, she didn't hear Aria's spiteful words... but Carlo's encouraging ones. Like a wall of fire shattering those doubts, cleansing those cutting words from her mind. Those flames of hatred she saw in his eyes earlier... Those were sustaining her sparks of hope. With that, like a mantra of some sorts, Vittoria chanted these words in her head:

'She wasn't a waste nor a fool like that woman said so. She had valuable ideals. She can be a magnificent Stalker.'

As that realization hit her, teardrops fell from her eyes. First for her helplessness, second for her anger towards her family... third for her rekindled hope. And this went on and on. Her breath hitched as she quietly sobbed. Her hands suddenly went limp in the boy's gentle hold. Seeing her in such a state, Carlo's eyebrows knitted in concern, lips parted in distress. He stood up from his chair to sit with her on the bed. The boy started to wipe the girl's tears away with his sleeves. One by one, he dried those tears of pain, taking her pain away. His gentleness was almost astonishing. 

He couldn't say anything when a sudden realization hit him. They were kindred in spirit by being in a similar situation. As he was waiting for his father, she had high hopes for her brother to save her. Yet, their closest ones made them suffer the most. How both of them desired for their affection - their love. The two of them were trapped in a golden cage, unable to fight back against injustice. Oh, how he despised this feeling....

'Like birds of a feather, huh...?' He thought bitterly.

When Vittoria slowly calmed down, she took a deep watery breath. She looked at the boy with a weak wobbly smile, appreciating his kindness. Seeing the son of Geppetto like this, she realized that she also misunderstood him. He held onto his goodwill after all. Beneath that smug, mischievous layer, there was a gentle soul of a young boy.

When she saw that he was meant to say something, she interrupted him. "It's alright... I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, eyebrows still knitted in worry.

"Yes. Thank you, Carlo."

He bowed his head in acceptance as he continued to stroke her tear-streaked cheek. Vittoria appreciated his kind gesture by leaning into his touch. They stayed that way for a long time. The silence of the night was comforting. The dogs' aggressive barks were repressed by the overbearing stillness of the dark hours. It seemed neither of the youths wanted to let those moments go. However, just as the Cathedral's midnight bell was heard from the top of the hill next to the city, a realization hit Carlo.

Did he actually stay there that long, comforting the girl until midnight?

Sadly, the teen boy pulled away as his gaze shifted towards the windows. Although dawn didn't come any time sooner, if someone noticed his absence at the Charity House, he would be in big trouble. It's not like he cared too much about the consequences but he already skipped a training day, thanks to his injury. He didn't want to spend the next day with his punishment.

"I need to go." he said quietly. Vittoria hummed in agreement then both of them stood up from her bed. As she reached for the patio door, she looked at Carlo with worry.

"Will you be alright? I mean it IS past midnight."

"Hey, I'm going to be the best Stalker in all of the world." He smuggly grinned. "How could I be the best if they're going to catch me?"

The girl only rolled her eyes with a half-smile then opened the door. A cold wind swept across the room. Both of them felt it immediately.

"Hurry up before you catch a cold." She said with a playfully impatient tone while poking him in the back. He was hesitant to leave just yet. The boy has been gazing at her bandaged hands for almost a minute. "What's wrong?"

He quickly shook his head. "...Nothing. Romeo and I are going to meet up after tomorrow's training. Care to join?"

Vittoria blinked at him in surprise, tilting her head in a questioning manner. She didn't say anything but stared at the boy.

"He really wanted to talk with you, you know. And you said you wished for a friend like him." He continued as he leapt out of the room and moved towards the plank at the balcony. Then he turned back to the girl. "You'll start with us... and I'll start with you, Vittoria. What do you say?" With a new gesture of kindness, he reached towards the girl with his hand.

An offer of friendship. Another surprising act from the infamous son of Geppetto. She wouldn't have trusted him if he offered this before his 'official' apology. He would've pranked her like any other time. However, his honest gaze told another tale. While the offer scared her so much, it also filled her with excitement. A new chance for a start. A spark to her flames of hope. They wanted her as a companion - a friend even. How could she refuse?

She slowly accepted his handshake as a warm smile graced her lips. "Just call me Tori."

Notes:

Can... Can I just vent a little bit? Back in the middle school days (almost a decade ago), there was this boy whom I liked. Sadly, that feeling didn't last long because he started to bully me for years. It was painful but I kept going on, trying to bear it until graduation. I quickly turned into an introverted, reserved, shy fellow. Although I still wear those scars from the abuse, if that couldn't happen, I wouldn't be here, writing novels. My only regret is that I couldn't tear into him, asking the same question as Vittoria did to Carlo. Anyways, vent off. A lot of emotions went through me while writing this chapter. I was thinking about whether I should split it into two chapters, but I think a lot of emotional parts would've lost their edge/importance. Carlo finally reached enough emotional maturity by accepting responsibility for his actions. Although it wasn't clear, there was another reason why he felt so guilty. Ever since Geppetto died, Tori's brother has been overloaded with work. Because of that, he (in his father's place) felt responsible for the girl's trauma... plus another golden opportunity for blaming his old man once again. And although Carlo made a hella lot of effort, Tori still has trust issues. I tried to make the apology part not too hasty yet not too slow. Btw, that part was basically a reimagination of a previous OC x Carlo one-shot I did as a practice. Anyways, thank you for listening to this author's rambling. Of course, any feedback would be much appreciated! :) By finding out about their mutual background, the birds of prey will grow so much more. How far though? Stay tuned for the next chapter to find out!

[whisker-biscuit]

The Lines We Cross: Chapter 16

High Class Heist

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Trust is the antidote that overcomes fear

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Sly scaled one of the ramshackle buildings on the deck and crouched on its roof, taking a moment to scan the area for anything different from the last time he’d been here. He could see Carmelita making a beeline for the front half of the ship from his perch; her silhouette was obscured in the dark of the storm but the way she moved was like a bright beacon compared to everyone else he knew was onboard. He waited until she was gone from his line of sight before turning his attention towards the stern.

He had told her that he didn’t know much about boats, and that wasn’t a lie. But he did know a lot about this one, and that was going to make all the difference.

Without any further dallying, the raccoon dropped down the other side of the building and sprinted for a large iron door tucked far out of sight that led to a descending stairwell. It was unlocked, just like he knew it would be, and he slipped inside and started heading downward.

The temperature increased tenfold from freezing outside rain to sweltering machinery air the deeper he got into the bowels of the ship. It was a heat he was both very familiar with and didn’t miss at all, and immediately his brow broke out in sweat as he dashed through steam-filled rooms and shimmied between scalding metal and open flames. There were a multitude of workers down here, too, but avoiding them was the easiest part – most of them were too absorbed in their work to even notice him, and he held his breath to slip by those that were a little more observant.

After only a few minutes of sneaking and dodging and hiding, Sly found himself in a place he hadn’t been to in weeks: the boiler room.

He stopped just inside, surprised to see the place empty, and looked around to make sure he was well and truly alone. All the engines were humming in a state of standby, ready and able to be pushed into overdrive at the single press of a button. They weren’t what he was here for, though – that prize was in the center of the room, larger than any of its kin and chugging along at max capacity.

Sly ran his fingers along the tiniest of dents in its outer shell. His eyes trailed to the ground, but no red stains could be found. Those dents were the only physical reminder of what had happened here only days before the raccoon had been picked up and sent to the States. He wondered, morbidly curious, whether the bodies had been disposed of in one of the open furnaces or if they’d been thrown out to sea.

There was no use dwelling on bad memories when he had a job to do, so he pulled out his cane and raised it over his head.

Heavy footsteps from behind him. The raccoon stiffened and turned around to see the walrus welder he had once been paired with standing just inside the doorway. She stared at him in shock before her expression hardened and her hand started going towards the radio at her hip.

“Wait! Just – wait,” he pleaded, holding his hands up like there was nothing wrong with the picture in front of her. It wasn’t quite as effective with his cane out, and he could see it in the way her eyes kept darting between it and his face with visible, suspicious confusion.

The look on her face suggested she wasn’t sure if he was going to jump her. If she were just a little bit closer, he probably would have.

“What are you doing here, kid?” She asked warily. One foot was bouncing erratically as though she was torn between retreating or advancing. “The boss never said anything about you coming back.”

“You’re right, this wasn’t planned. I wasn’t supposed to be back yet.” Lies were always more convincing with a grain of truth to them, he’d long ago discovered. The raccoon hoped with all his might that it would be enough this time. “But Raleigh brought me here because some of his colleagues have gotten caught, and he didn’t want me accidentally leaking info if I was caught, too.”

For a few seconds, it seemed like his deception was going to be successful. The walrus was starting to relax, bit by bit, and he slowly put his hands down in response. But then her gaze drifted to the machinery behind him, and her confused frown grew deeper and deeper.

“Isn’t that…” The moment realization hit her, the welder’s eyes went wide with shock and anger. She raised a finger at Sly that trembled with rage. “You’re trying to stall the ship.”

“What are you talking about?” Sweat trickled down his temple. “I’m just doing my job down here, same as you and everyone else.”

It wasn’t enough. She snarled – but instead of rushing forward to stop him like he thought, she turned on her heel and fled the room, and Sly’s entire body was flooded with ice in the middle of an inferno.

“Shit! Fuck!” He started to run after her, then stopped and glanced back at the chugging engine. It had to be destroyed, and this might be his only chance to do so safely – but if the walrus got away from him before her could stop her from making a call, then Raleigh was going to learn there was an intruder onboard.

Raleigh was going to learn he was onboard. He couldn’t let the frog know he was here, couldn’t be found, couldn’t be caught – because if he was caught then there’d never be a chance to escape again.

But the only way to truly escape was if the ship was trapped in the bay.

Sly inhaled and turned back around, swinging his cane with all his might at the machinery. The jolt of the impact ricocheted up his arms not unlike the tombstones in Mz. Ruby’s swamp, but he couldn’t afford to be unbalanced by it. He swung again, and again, and again, until the engine was a smoking, sputtering mess and he could hear everything around him start to power down.

Then he sprinted after the woman.

Through rooms, between furnaces, dodging heat and smoke and startled workers, the raccoon ran for all he was worth. There was only one way out of the engine room, which he raced for while praying to anything that might listen that he could catch her before it was too late. The stairwell was empty as he took the stairs two at a time, and his heart was in his throat when he burst out onto the deck.

Nothing. Not even a fleeing shadow. The walrus was gone.

Fuck! Fuck! Cào! Fuck!

Overwhelmed by terrified failure, Sly’s knees gave out beneath him and he was forced to prop himself up against the iron door as static crept up his limbs and into his lungs. It was over. She was going to tell Raleigh, and Raleigh was going to find him here. The frog would drag him kicking and screaming back into hell – if he was feeling forgiving about everything the raccoon had done to his colleagues.

And if he wasn’t feeling forgiving, if he decided to treat Sly like the thief that he was, then it was over.

You’re caught you’re caught you’re caught you’re dead –

His chest was burning.

Somehow, through a haze of panic, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his burner phone, shaking so hard that he nearly dropped the tiny thing. As if on autopilot, staring out at the empty deck and the ocean waves beyond, he found one of two saved numbers and pressed the dial button.

“Ringtail?” Carmelita’s answering voice was a shock to his system, but not nearly enough to break him out of his distress. He held the phone close and struggled to stop hyperventilating. “Is that you? What’s that sound?”

“It’s – it’s me,” he managed between shallow gulps of air. “I’m – it’s – there’s a – a problem, I can’t…”

“A problem?” The sharp uptick in her tone made him flinch. “What kind of problem? Did someone see you?”

seen seen seen caught caught caught dead dead dead

“Yes! Seen, I was seen, we have to get out of here, kāi zǒu, we need to –”

“Okay, whoa, first you need to calm down. I’m going to count to ten and I need you to breathe in and out along with me. Okay?”

He wanted to scream. They needed to leave immediately, not stop to make him feel better!

“Sly. I need you to listen to me. We can’t make a plan until you’ve stopped panicking.” Her words left no room for argument. “I’m starting now. One.”

“Inspector –”

“One.”

Sly promptly shut up and inhaled as deeply as he could.

“Two.”

He exhaled.

“Three.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. By the time she uttered “ten”, the raccoon felt like he could actually move his body again. The explosion of panic in his head had lessened to a storm he could almost weather by himself.

His chest still ached.

“How are you feeling, Ringtail?”

“…Better.” It shamed him to admit it. How stupid he must look now; how unreliable he was when just the threat of getting caught had him shattering into pieces.

Even if it was over a very justified threat, it was still absolutely pathetic.

“Good.” There was no scolding or even mocking him for his weakness. The fox was all business, like usual, and he was eternally grateful for it. “Now, you said something about someone seeing you?”

“Yeah…” He tried to swallow the dryness in his mouth. “One of Raleigh’s goons saw me and ran off, and I lost track of her. She’s probably already told him or is on her way to.”

“Shit. Okay, we’re going to have to expedite our process, then. I’m going to call for reinforcements and warn them about the storm. Hopefully, either they’ll be able to make it through regardless or we can find a way to shut it down before they come.”

She sounded stressed but not angry, which threw him for a loop. She should’ve been furious over the sudden change in plans. That he had probably put the entire ship on red alert any minute now and forced them to improvise and risk more lives was enough reason to tell him to get lost until she cleaned up his mess.

But she didn’t do that, and she wasn’t angry – as much as he could tell over a call, anyway – and he pressed the phone a little closer to his ear in silent, secret gratitude.

“I…I don’t think they’ll have to worry about the storm for too much longer,” he tentatively added, looking up at the giant blimp. “The reason I was caught was because I stumbled onto what I think was an engine room, and I sorta…destroyed a machine or two.”

Even now, he could see the artificial vortex beginning to abate. It was more gradual than he’d thought, but it was still a victory, and he knew for a fact that the ship itself was dead in the water for the time being.

“Oh, great job! You sure got a lot done in fifteen minutes. I found a way into the bow where I think they haul in wrecks straight into the ship itself, but this place is so big that I’m probably going to be here a while.”

The idea of the inspector trapped below deck when the frog sounded the alarm sent a spear of worry straight through his chest. “What about Raleigh knowing we’re here? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Please, Ringtail, give me some credit.” Her voice was nothing but teasing. “If I can handle mob bosses and voodoo priestesses all by myself, I can handle however many lowlifes who are scavenging stolen parts. As long as you keep yourself safe and out of sight, which I know you can, I think we’ll be okay.”

She sounded so sure of it all; their new plan and their safety and his capabilities. The underlying stress was still present, he could hear it no matter how much she was probably trying not to let it seep through, but just the fact that she could stay so level-headed made him both envious and awed.

She was so much better than him, he was beginning to realize. So much better in so many ways. Maybe she had been right to try to refuse his help back in Mesa.

“Cào, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not noticing the lapse as he was too busy wrestling with sudden, crippling inferiority. “I told you I’d be fine and then I screwed things up for you.”

“It’s…it’s fine, Sly. Mistakes happen and we plan accordingly.” There was a significant pause. “I have a question, though – what was that language you were speaking earlier?”

“What? What did I say?”

“When you were saying we had to leave, you said something I didn’t understand, and also right before you apologized just now – it sounded like…ta-ow?”

The butchering of the pronunciation made him wince before he even registered that he had just slipped into another language in front of her, and that she had caught it. Of course, she had; she caught everything.

“Oh, you heard that, huh?” He began walking, now filled with nervous energy on top of the inadequacy and desperately needing an outlet. “That was Mandarin. You probably shouldn’t repeat that last word out loud. It’s, uh, not very nice.”

“Is that the source of your accent?”

Sly’s eyebrows jumped up and he stopped in his tracks. “I have an accent?”

“You do. It’s very faint, but I noticed it the first time we met. I couldn’t place it.”

“…Huh.”

“You didn’t know?”

No, he very much did not. Another aspect of his identity, stripped away against his will by the monsters who had raised him. The raccoon’s stressed walking turned into an angry trot as he stopped pacing aimlessly and instead headed for a part of the ship that he knew for a fact had something he wanted.

“It’s not my first language,” he said curtly as he moved. The haze of bitterness kept him talking, too heated to stop himself from blurting out the words. “I lived in Kunlun as a kid for a while. Picked up enough to get by.”

Immediately he regretted it – if she was even half the detective he knew her to be, she’d start connecting dots as soon as they went looking for the Panda King. Maybe if he was lucky enough, he could convince her it was just a coincidence. Kunlun was a big area, after all. It was merely chance he had been in the same place that a crime lord had set up shop.

That had worked in Mesa City, hadn’t it?

“Anyway, sorry to give you a heart attack. I promise I’ll be more careful until your officer friends show up. Are we still meeting up again soon if nothing else changes?”

“Wh – yeah, we can do that.” His abrupt change in topic had clearly thrown her for a loop, but the fox recovered quickly like he knew she would. “Just look out for yourself, okay, Ringtail?”

“I will.”

Sly ended the call before he said anything else incriminating, and crammed his phone back in his pocket. His cane he gripped tightly in his right hand as he laid eyes on a particular set of doors belonging to a particular building on the left side of the deck.

They were on a real time crunch, now, and Raleigh probably already knew he was here. The time for subtlety was gone. If any of those incoming cops questioned him about the mess he was probably going to make, he was simply going to tell them that there had been a struggle, he had panicked, and he had feared for his life.

Carmelita would vouch for him. He was almost completely sure of that, now.

Raleigh’s “treasure chamber”, as he liked to call it, was a long ornate hallway that led to a large room filled with water. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with shelves full of stolen goods and decadent prizes. It was the frog’s tailored art gallery of ego while he immersed himself in his personal swimming pool. Sly had been in that room exactly once in his life, the very first time he had stepped foot on the ship – forced to get a good look at each and every item on display as Raleigh bragged about his vast collection and taunted the young kit with something he could never hope to achieve.

It had been both a dare and a threat that day. Daring him to prove his worth as a Cooper by stealing even a single item in that room, and threatening him with a fate worse than death if he so much as tried. Sly, barely thirteen and terrified out of his wits, had not been willing to risk his life to protect his self-worth, and the memory of the frog sneering down at him had stuck so strongly in his mind that he hadn’t ever worked up the courage to attempt it in all the years since.

There had been one other thing about the treasure chamber that had stayed with him, though, and that was the sight of a heavy iron safe on a raised platform in the very center of the pool. The raccoon had no doubt that safe was where Raleigh’s stolen pages of the Thievius Raccoonus were being held.

He pushed through the doors into the fancy hallway and almost immediately was forced to freeze, vanishing from sight just in time for a spotlight to illuminate the exact spot where he was standing. It swung away a few moments later, giving him just enough space to take a better breath and inch forward until it returned, and then he was still again. The thing seemed to be automated, sweeping back and forth down the length of the hall with no room for even the smallest of rats to skirt around the edge of its light.

Sly didn’t know whether being seen by the thing would trigger an alarm or shoot him down, but he wasn’t eager to find out. He moved cautiously, not daring to take any risks, and slowly worked his way down the hall that suddenly felt a lot longer than it looked. Just as he remembered, the walls were covered in shiny baubles and lavish wealth, but none of them caught his attention. None of them were worth anything to someone who was after something truly irreplaceable.

At the other end of the hallway, the room opened up into the swimming pool. It was untouched and seemingly unguarded, but the raccoon knew better than to underestimate the chief machinist of the Fiendish Five. He took the deepest breath he could manage and readied his reflexes as he crossed the threshold, and his foresight paid off when his movement triggered an entire wall of yellow lasers that barreled down on him too fast to blink.

The raccoon turned invisible just a hairs-breadth faster, unable to even wonder if it would work on lasers, and watched wide-eyed as it passed over him just as harmlessly as the spotlight had. He would have breathed a sigh of relief if it didn’t put his life in danger and stealthily continued without letting himself appear visible again. It was only when he reached the edge of the pool that he exhaled, and only because no other security measures had been triggered. He eyed the deep water, then looked past it to the safe that was still where he’d last remembered it, sitting innocently quite a ways away from where Sly was standing.

What the raccoon hadn’t remembered – and what he was very grateful for now – were the lily pads. A dozen or so large, round, green cushions floated on top of the water, looking a lot more stable than they had any right to. After a moment of hesitance, knowing there would be no one nearby to save him this time if he fell into the water again, he made a running leap onto the closest pad. It bounced a little under his weight but otherwise was unbothered, and Sly wasted no time aiming for the next one.

Hopping from lily pad to lily pad was not something he had pictured himself doing in his mission to put the book back together, but it was a far easier task to focus on than the security lasers, and he didn’t dare complain even in his head, afraid to jinx it. The only thing that would have made it even more interesting was if Carmelita was jumping alongside him. No doubt, she would have gotten a kick out of the unusual situation at the exact same time she would’ve taken it extremely seriously. It was one of her odd little contradictions that he found himself liking a lot.

As soon as he made it to the center platform, Sly got on one knee next to the safe and pressed his ear against the door, repeating the technique he had used in Muggshot’s office. Every subtle difference in sound seemed to echo through the cavernous room, which made his job feel easier at the same time it made him paranoid. None of Raleigh’s goons were allowed in here, but that didn’t mean their boss might not decide on an impromptu visit to ensure his treasure was safe when he learned Sly was causing problems.

The frog didn’t show up, thank god, and the raccoon heard the last number fall under his careful hand. His heart swelled with triumph as he opened the safe and began rummaging through it. There was an entire pile of centuries-old gold coins that were probably each worth a fortune, and a series of blueprints of the ship and the storm machine, but when Sly sifted beyond all that, he was shocked to find nothing else. Not a single page of the Thievius Raccoonus had been stashed here.

He had come all the way here only to turn up empty-handed.

Stress began creeping back up his spine, threatening to seep into his skull and into his mind, but he gritted his teeth and smothered it down with sheer willpower and Carmelita’s helpful breathing technique. The worst thing right now was for him to panic again. It wouldn’t help him, it wouldn’t help his partner, and it most certainly wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

With a growl that was teetering dangerously close to a whine, Sly closed the safe door and spun the dial a few times to reset it, then tapped the end of his cane against the concrete floor as he wracked his brain for any idea of where the missing pages might be. There were only so many places on a ship like this that were safe enough to keep such old, delicate artifacts, and although Raleigh was an arrogant windbag, he was not the kind of person to lose something priceless through a careless mistake.

But the only other place as feasibly secure enough as this room wasn’t technically part of the ship. It was floating several meters above the ship, and it never came down for anything. Anything, of course, except for a high-and-mighty frog deciding to grace his crew with his temporary presence before returning to his reclusive lair for weeks at a time.

Sly dissected the dilemma for a solid minute, trying and failing to think of a way to reach the storm machine while it was still in the air. Short of shooting himself out of one of the cannons along the outside railing – which he might have been tempted to do if it wasn’t going to draw the wrong kind of attention from his partner – there was really only one solution.

They’d have to bring the blimp down somehow.

His phone was already coming out of his pocket as he began his trek back towards the deck.

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A/N: It's honestly a miracle I got this chapter out on time. I was busy all week and I only had a simple outline for the entire chapter; pretty much wrote the whole thing from scratch today and yesterday. Hoo. Combine that with SlyFox week and I'm amazed I have any creative juices left in me.

But oh boy, not even ten minutes on the ship and things are already starting to go to shit! I hope Sly's reaction didn't feel too jarring - this is the first time he's fallen apart like this (at least while he was with Carmelita...) but I'd say he has very good reason for it. Luckily he can rely on her to be his rock, and he still won't let his stress get in the way of his goal.

Next week, we'll get to see our favorite Inspector's side of things! Thanks for reading!