#will he burn down this village to solve a problem?

[munkiey]

[nixoon-again]

This was a bad idea.

Sonic usually prides himself in his chill and easy going nature and his calm demeanour, it's not really that easy to get him riled up. He doesn't like being angry either, his love for freedom includes feeling free too — not burdened down with some infuriating people and their meaningless rants or whatever engaging acts they participate in and absolutely not any of it being given more than a second long stay in his mind, no. Sonic doesn't like that. He prefers to stay clear of such things as much as he can. 

If the bulging vein on his forehead has to say anything, unfortunately, this is not one of those situations where he can just up and leave.

No because he's stuck here, forced to sit around this stupid dinner table by the absurdity of the situation. Really, how did he even get here? Why did he let it get to this point? When has Sonic ever conformed to the groundless rules of a stupid village to solve a problem before? Why was this one any different? In fact, by all logical means, Sonic shouldn't even have bothered to ask these villagers for anything at all. He should've gotten the work done and over with, giving very little — which is none — thought to the customs and formalities of these absolute nutcases.

This is Westside Island after all.

He shouldn't have expected anything else from these guys.

Sonic knows very little of what these lunatics did to Tails in his earlier years and what he does know of it already makes him want to burn the entire village down. Right now? The urge is stronger than ever.

Today he has learnt a lot more about what exactly they did to his little brother than he has in the four years of knowing and raising Tails.

The only thing keeping Sonic from lashing out right now is his little brother's small hand resting on top of his own.

He doesn't know how Tails is keeping his composure right now because Chaos knows Sonic's ever-deepening scowl is going to become something these people are always going to associate him with. The kid is acting like the constant insults and accusations don't even affect him — which is, yeah, good! They shouldn't because they're meaningless lies hurled at his way by people who don't even possess a quarter of his IQ. But this is getting out of hand and Sonic doesn't know how long he can tell himself that these words don't matter because they're not aimed at him, they're aimed at his little brother.

His little brother who just so happens to be the smartest, kindest, bravest person in the whole world. His little brother that these people abandoned as a literal baby, starving and abusing him to the point Sonic still has damage left to undo after all these years. His little brother who he will not hear any foul words about.

Tails’ grip on his hand tightens.

He must've noticed the hedgehog's quills sharpening. The kit's signalling him to calm down.

Right… He can't let his anger overcome him now. Not after they're so close to finishing their job here and going back home, hopefully never having to even look in this place's general direction again. He can't forget the actual reason he agreed to talk with these people; to get information since the duo aren't allowed to investigate the situation freely as outsiders.

Fate must really hate Sonic though because it just so happens to be that the guy who can actually give them any valuable information is someone Sonic never thought he'd ever come face to face with in a million years.

Tails’ father.

(He cringes internally, oh how wrong it feels to refer to the man as his kid's father.)

The resemblance between father and son is uncanny; no matter how much Sonic tries to tell himself this guy is just another fox, he can never convince himself as such. Not when he has the same ocean blue eyes, sparkling with wisdom and tactic. The same shade of orange fur dissolves into dark browns and blacks at the tips of his ears and between his eyes. The way he talks, the way he sits, the way he moves and the way his singular tail swishes behind him gently. His voice, his manners, his accent, his tone — it's all Tails.

It's infuriating. 

It feels unsettling.

Because this man is so unlike his little brother that he feels uneasy under his gaze, that shade of soft blue doesn't deserve to hold such contempt and malice in it. His facial features resemble Tails’ so much and yet he scowls and sneers where the kit is always laughing and smiling — the man may be related to his little brother and his little brother may have gotten his appearance from the older fox but there's definitely a stark contrast between them. The difference between one's unforgiving cruelty and the other's mellow kindness is shocking when placed side by side.

“That's the most I can tell you at this hour,” the man says as if he's granted them great knowledge when barely any of what he just said was something other than an insult directed towards Tails, “I wish I could do more to help you but as the village's rules stand, there's very little I can allow you to do here when you've brought that thing along, Mr. Hedgehog.”

For whatever reason, people on Westside Island like to tell Sonic that they would've helped him as much as they can if it wasn't for the fact that he brought his partner with him. They're so adamant that everything would've been such a streamlined process if it was only Sonic asking to investigate the village. 

As if.

He knows talking back to the man would later have Tails scolding him but the temptation is too great to not jab at the nonchalant fox, “You know, maybe you wouldn't have all these problems suddenly spiking up if you didn't treat a literal child like some thing to be disposed of.”

“I believe you don't understand our history at all.” The guy has the audacity to sigh, “Treating a curse as a child is welcoming death with open arms. In fact, I believe all these problems are suddenly spiking up because you decided to bring that freak back here.”

And oh boy, that makes Sonic’s left eye twitch in a way that gives away the fact that he's about to throw hands.

He would've too, if it weren't for the sudden surprise of Tails standing up to his father.

“I'm not a freak…” His voice is small, but so so certain and it makes Sonic's heart swell with pride. A small smile graces the hedgehog's muzzle as he gives Tails’ hand a squeeze.

Unfortunately, the moment is short lived.

Because of course Tails’ father has something to shoot them down with again.

“And is that why your mother died, Miles? Is that how you're going to kill Sonic too?”

The room goes silent.

Sonic feels Tails' vice-like grip on his hand tightens to the point it must've hurt at those words. He can feel the kit's claws through his gloves, as he holds Sonic's hand like his life depends on it.

Instinctively, Sonic turns his head just enough to take a look at the younger boy sitting to his left.

Tails has his head hanging low, his bangs cast a shadow upon his eyes but Sonic still catches sight of big, fat tears rolling down his muzzle.

And that's it.

That's the final straw.

Sonic doesn't know what overcomes him next.

His mind goes blank for a moment as his body moves on its own, taking his hand away from Tails and putting his entire weight into his fist as his curled up hand connects with the older fox's jaw with such force it knocks him out of his chair, leaving him disgracefully sprawled on the wooden floor. A pained noise escapes the man as he crashes down with the chair he's been sitting on and oh, is it music to Sonic's ears.

The older fox holds his muzzle, his glove staining red as Sonic takes a slow and calculated step forward — a dangerous aura surrounds the hedgehog, emerald green glinting with so much hatred and ill intent that it sends shivers running down the man's spine.

Sonic raises his fist again and Chaos knows he wouldn't have let the fox scramble with just a few punches, he doubts the man could even get up on his own after what Sonic wants to do to him but fate seems to be in the fox's favour as Tails grabs Sonic's upper arm and effectively pulls him back.

“Sonic, stop it!” The kit still has tears in his eyes, his voice cracks a bit but he manages to mask it well in favour of stopping his older brother from possibly committing first degree murder.

Tails drags Sonic back to his side but the hedgehog still has his murderous glare fixated on the older fox who has barely managed to even sit back up on the floor.

“That's enough, we're leaving. Come on.” Tails speaks fast, his eyes dashing between Sonic and the door as takes a big step and tries to pull his older brother with him. Except Sonic doesn't budge, still glaring down at his father who has denied to match him with one of his own. Tails looks at the hedgehog, almost pleading if it weren't for his stern tone, “Sonic.”

The addressed hedgehog opens his mouth to say something, seemingly to the older mobian but decides against it when he feels Tails pull at his hand again.

Sonic lets out a huff, brows knitting.

He disregards his anger and frustration to listen to Tails — Tails wants to leave, he's clearly too uncomfortable in here for Sonic to be pulling these stunts.

“Let's go.” Sonic says, interlocking his fingers with Tails’ as they both leave the place.

Mr. Prower thinks things would've been better if Sonic didn't bring Tails with him? If it weren't for Tails, Sonic would've made sure Tails actually didn't have a father anymore.

[luvendiary]

Hello!!! Imagine hiccup telling reader "I'm in love with you" / "Marry me" out of blue after a stare down (can be established relationship or not muahahaha)

a/n: here it is at last! i had such a tough time with this one, and i’m sorry for the delay. i apologize for any historical or plot inaccuracy. ly! i hope you like it! requests are open.

Weakness

Being a viking was tough, especially if you were a girl. You had always been smart, but sometimes smart didn’t cut it, especially if you were a girl. You had to also put a tough front, and that sometimes meant being cold or acting as if nothing really bothered you. When you had started to train with the dragon riders, you had to be rough, as to not be taken advantage of.

“Don’t let anyone trade you a cat for a deer Y/N,” you father had told you when you were just a girl. Don’t be weak, don’t let anyone take advantage of you.

So you made sure no one ever did, you built up your walls and never allowed yourself to feel weak. You had a reputation to uphold.

The first time Hiccup joined your training, you had felt the need to join in on the others taunting, it made you internally scream realizing how weak he was. On the other hand, your heart felt moved by him, you soon realized that both reactions were due to the same feeling: you wanted him to be strong, you didn’t want anyone to take advantage of him.

So you stood up for him.

“Is this some kind a joke to you?!” Astrid screamed at him.

Hiccup laid on the floor, after failing to successfully fight-off the Deadly Nadder.

“Our parent’s war is about to become ours!-”

“Enough Astrid,” you said, walking down the hall and sheathing your daggers. “Give him a break.”

She scoffed in disbelief, as she glanced down at Hiccup with disdain. She then turned his back to him and approached you instead.

“Weakness is not something to be proud of Y/N,” Astrid whispered harshly before walking away.

You bit your tongue and remained stoic in your manner.

The voice from the boy you had just defended broke you from your trance, “Uh-, thank you…You really didn’t have to, I had it sorted.”

You glared down at him and just stomped away.

=-=

Over the years you and Hiccup had grown closer. When you caught him sneaking Toothless into the village you had freaked out, but decided against saying anything up until you could corner him and confront him about it. So that’s exactly what you did, to which in return he told you to meet him in the forest, where he took you on a beautiful ride at sunset -against your will, might you add.

You realized he was not weak, but rather different. He was strong in a way you could never be, and that stung. However, you had to learn to live with it. If you had to be weaker than someone, you was glad that someone was Hiccup.

Hiccup was like a vine creeping up the walls you had worked to hard to build, and you weren’t totally against it. It felt nice.

So you allowed yourself to bask in the happiness he made you feel, but nothing more. Although seeing him made you want to spend every waking moment in his company, you had decided that it would just make you gullible. You could not risk the chance that he would take advantage of you. This was for your own protection. You had to be strong.

=-=

When Hiccup pitched the idea of the Edge to his father, you had been there to back him up so it was only fitting that you two were the responsible ones to solve any strategical problem that came with it. While Astrid might have been a fantastic addition to your team, and she would’ve certainly been helpful on these sort of mission, she had her hands full with the dragon-riding academy she had started back at Berk. And that’s how you had ended up all night in Hiccup’s house trying to come up with an anti-fire contraption after Snoutlout’s dragon had burned yours down.

“Okay, what if we have a wheel, with buckets on it that collect water, just ready for the go,” you said. You were sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling as you fidgeted with one of the parts from Hiccup’s prosthetic leg.

“That would be a good idea, but us having to go for the buckets will take some time, which means that the fire would have already spread,” the brown-haired boy replied. “We need something we can pull on, or something. Something that’s already set up, and available in case of any accidents.”

“Pull…Ruff loves pulling Tuff’s hair, he always gets so mad” you said, a giggle escaping your lips in your light state of delirium.

Moments like these were special to Hiccup, he could see who you were without having to put up a front.

He chuckled and glanced down at you with false disdain, “Focus Y/N/N!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, still in a light fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry, i’m sorry…it’s just been a long day,” you replied with a sleep-ridden smile.

Hiccup took you in, sitting comfortably on his floor, hair messy and a drowsy grin adorning your lips. You looked breathtaking.

“I better get going, we’ll solve this tomorrow,” you said, standing up and gathering the things you could save from the fire.

“Wait,” Hiccup retaliated, “where are you going to sleep?”

“The meeting room,” you responded simply.

“The hell you are, you’ll freeze in there.”

“It’s not like we haven’t spent the night on Glacier Island Hiccup, it’s not a big deal.”

He stared down at you, a serious expression on his face, “You’ll stay here. It’s and order, as future Chief of Berk.”

You didn’t shy away from his stare, and instead met him halfway, “Good thing you’re not Chief yet, and we’re not in Berk.”

“You’re very stubborn, you know that?” he said without breaking eye-contact.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You should probably do something about that”.

“That wouldn’t make me a very good viking now, would it?”

“I think it would make you a fantastic viking”. He said, as he slowly approached you, a teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“Maybe, but a lot less fun too. Besides, who would put Snotlout in his place?” You retaliated, a shit-eating grin, challenging his.

“We can manage”.

“Oh, but I don’t think we can-“.

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze, and stumbled backwards slightly. You saw Hiccup’s expression change, his teasing demeanor became more sullen, as if he had realized what he had just said.

“What?” you uttered in disbelief.

Hiccup sighed and forced himself to not shy away.

“I’m in love with you Y/N, so I will not let you sleep out there alone and in the cold.”

You remained silent. Had you allowed all of this to go too far? You shook your head, trying to deny what you had just heard and fumbled with the door handle before running out into the pouring midnight rain.

“Y/N,” you heard Hiccup said from behind you. He was calm, and had a slight look of disappointment. “Come back inside please, you’re going to get sick.”

“Hiccup, you don’t… this is not…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said as he stepped out into the rain. “I know what I feel, it doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate. I just want you to be safe.”

“Why?!” you said in a slighter angrier tone than you had meant to. Everything was going so fast.

“Because I love you!” he screamed back.

“I don’t know how to love!” you replied, frustration evident in your voice.

Silence fell over both of you. You could see that your confession was something he was not expecting. The rain fell over both of you, as if stripping away every facade you had put so much effort in building.

Your rejection of weakness made you reject love, and now that you were doing exactly that you laid bare, in the weakest state you had ever found yourself in.

“I can teach you how,” he said, breaking the silence. It was merely but a whisper, but it felt as if he was shouting it to the world.

“W-What?”

“I can teach you, if you’d let me.”

Your eyes went wide, as you nodded your head hesitantly.

He smiled, and slowly approached you before carefully wrapping your arms around you, as if you were a fragile thing. You were okay with it for now. You were okay with being taken care of. You were okay with being held. And you were okay with being weak, because it was in this weakness were you found strength.

[aurumacadicus]

I posted the first two parts of minotaur Steve (under same tag) specifically so you all could have some slight background on this scene (because I wanted it to hurt more probably):

"You have to come," Tony exclaims, angry, but there's some genuine panic threading his voice. "We've come this far, you can't just--"

"You dragged me this far," Steve snarls, and only feels a little bad when Tony takes a nervous step backward. "You took me from the labyrinth for your own reasons. It was never to rescue me from living and dying there. Now you want me to die to save you? You're no better than the gods."

Tony looks hurt for a moment, like Steve has taken one of his massive hands and just slapped him, but it doesn't hide the hint of shame that crosses his face. He recovers quickly, though, anger covering everything. "It's not my fault. I'm not the one who made that shitty prophecy. I wanted to solve my own problems. The gods are the ones who decided I couldn't!"

"So you'd sacrifice me?!" Steve bellows, and Tony skitters backward, clutching the Rogers shield to himself protectively. "Like I'm a dumb animal?! You should have taken one of the others. At least they wouldn't know one way or the other." He glares at Tony for a moment. He doesn't know how to explain how much this betrayal hurts, that Tony knew the gist of the prophecy meant Steve would probably die and had strung him along with him anyway. Had probably offered Steve the gift of his body knowing he would never have to fulfill it, he thought, perhaps uncharitably. He doesn't even want that, which doesn't help the hurt at all.

He should have known the world outside the labyrinth wasn't for him, is probably what hurts the most. There was a reason his mother had never brought him outside, even after she'd realized Steve could navigate the walls. She'd never asked him to find the way out so she could show him the sky. She'd known what Tony had apparently known, but hadn't had the heart to tell him--he's a monster, and men kill monsters. There will never be a place for him in open air.

"I hope the Hydra Cult burns your entire forest to the fucking ground," Steve snarls, and it mostly isn't true, but he wants Tony to hurt as much as he'd hurt him.

It works a little too well, he thinks, as Tony sucks in a breath that sounds more painful than helpful. His eyes fill with tears, and his face flushes with shame and embarrassment. There's a moment where he starts to feel guilty.

But Tony rallies quickly, flush turning to anger, blinking back his tears as if they never existed. "Fine. Go back to the labyrinth for all I care. I hope someone kills and roasts you like the beast you are before you get there," he snarls. He throws the shield at Steve's hooves. "I don't need this. I don't need you. I can take care of my forest myself."

"Sure," Steve spits back, glaring, as Tony turns on his heel to stomp down the road. The urge to remind him he had to save him from a few satyrs along the way is on the tip of his tongue, but something in him makes him swallow it back. Probably the part of him that remembers his mother's expression before she'd told him to run away and hide. It would be too low a blow, even for him, even as angry as he is.

He bends to pick up the shield. He doesn't understand how it can be a weapon. His mother had never spoken of it. But then, it had been from her husband's side of the family. He had inherited it because of her name, not because they'd accepted him. They'd only given it to him when Tony had mentioned a prophecy. Humans were scared of being on the wrong side of a prophecy, the village elder had said as he'd passed it over to them. It's heavy. He's reluctantly impressed Tony had carried it as long as he had, too anxious at the sight of the emblem burned into his hip to take it in his own hands.

Was Tony's kind understanding just pity, because he knew he was bringing Steve to die, Steve wonders. Or was he being kind to be kind? He'll never know, he figures, turning to chuck it into the sea.

Then he hears a sound, perhaps the most awful one he's ever heard--agony, and defeat, and dismay, all at once. His mother had instilled a conscience in him. He turns.

Tony is crumpling to the ground. Steve thinks he's tripped, for a moment, except his hands don't go out to catch himself. He just falls, and lies there where he landed, small and unmoving. Like the gods had struck him down where he stood for his hubris.

"Tony," Steve gasps, only half against his will, and thunders after him.

Steve is so careful as he turns him onto his back, feeling awkward and unwieldy. Tony's shaking--seizing, he remembers his mother calling it once, eyes rolled back in his head, saliva foaming in the corners of his mouth. As he watches, a drop of blood begins to trickle from his nose. He cradles Tony's head in one big hand, so he doesn't hit it on anything, feeling helpless, just like he had as his mother had passed away in his arms.

Tony doesn't pass away, though. Eventually, he sags in Steve's hold, eyelids fluttering. He coughs, and a fine mist of blood fills the air in front of his mouth.

"Tony," Steve whispers, pulling him close to his chest. "What happened?"

Tony says nothing for a few minutes, focused on catching his ragged breath. Finally, though, he croaks, "They cut through one of my heartwoods." He coughs again, then sobs, looking up at Steve with liquid eyes. "Steve, they're killing everyone in the east of my forest."

Steve frowns. "How do you know?"

"I can feel them dying," Tony sobs, and somehow he manages the strength to grab Steve's arm, crying in earnest. "I can feel all of them dying around me. I couldn't protect them. I couldn't do enough. They're dying because of me."

"Tony," Steve whispers, cradling him to his chest, as Tony sobs and sobs.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 27

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Broken Trust

Notes: Spoon feeding chapters while stressing over the last one ;_;

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +200K

Chapter:  27/ It’s a secret.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the early morning, Mirena was at your door to ask for your help in the courtyard. As one could expect, accidents had happened last night. Those who only complained of headaches or nausea were not offered your or Mirena’s healing hands. But there had been a small physical fight where two drunks managed to wound each other, your mother helped them. She asked you to heal a woman who had broken her ankle whilst walking down the hill back to the village.

This poor woman did not even have a drop of ale in her when her foot hit an uneven spot on the ground that send her falling. The Faun woman was crying in pain and you used your magic to heal her. After you had helped her, she thanked you and was able to walk pain free again.

You saw a few people trying to convince your mother to use her precious energy to heal their bottleache. It was getting on your nerves that they would not take “no” for an answer. You marched over to the three. “My mother said ‘no’. So leave. Only those who truly need it will be helped.”

One man dared to say, “We are sick!”

“Drink water then!” You snapped at them and saw him recoil, “Leave her be, for if I put my hands on you, it won’t be to heal!”

Mirena was surprised by your outburst.

Matthew walked into the courtyard just in time to see the three ‘sick’ Feys leave, “Pfhoo, have you not slept well?”

Your mother send you a knowing smile when the knight stopped right in front of you.

He wasn’t far from the truth…

You were sick and tired of the way others took advantage of the Dawn Folk, “I just hate it when people see us as an easy way to solve all their problems.”

Matthew was understanding of your reaction, “Ignore them. Let them suffer their ale sickness.”

Ignoring them clearly only made them think that they could treat your family like this. You were a little sharp, “I wish I could just ignore them. But they need to hear that we are not here to serve their every whim!”

He held up his hands in defeat. “I know. I’m on your side, remember?”

Seeing him feel attacked made you act calmer.

“Sorry.” You sighed, saying it to your mother too. “I’m sorry.”

She gave your arm a squeeze. “I know why you’re angry, a lot has happened to you. It’s alright.”

You gave a small nod and she left your side to let Matthew talk to you alone.

“You’ve become braver.” He stated his observation.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling like you were done with letting others take what they wanted from the Dawn Folk.

He took a step closer. “You even wore a dress last night. Trousers again today, I see?”

A frown formed on your forehead, did you hear it wrong or was he disappointed? It gnawed at you, and made you remember how it felt when he never even looked your way with interest until days ago. He must have preferred the dress on you.

His reaction had hurt the young rejected girl inside of you again, even if you did not show it. “I prefer trousers.”

You walked passed him, your work in the courtyard was done, and you left before he could say another word that might hurt you further.

As you walked into the fort to find Squirrel and Ciro, your fast pace caused you to collide with someone when you turned a corner.

“Sorry.” You blurted out, then saw who you had run into.

A pale looking Ash Man was viewing you curiously. “Good morning. Where are you off to in such a haste?”

“Morning.” You greeted him polite as well, “I’m going to ask Ciro if he wants me to help him with learning how to wield a sword. I doubt I have to ask Squirrel.”

He hummed, knowing that Percival would surely wish to be part of this lesson and invite himself.

Lancelot didn’t look so well, you even felt some pity. Just a little. Not enough to be less upset about the way things had went last night.

“Your head hurts?” You asked.

“It does.” He confessed.

“Aw, you poor thing.” Was all you said and then continued your path.

He followed and caught up with you mere seconds later.

Your bitterness was audible in your tone, “If we would heal everyone who felt sick after being drunk, we’d die from exhaustion.”

He faced the anger he sensed flowing in you without fear. “I will not ask you to heal me.”

You came to a sudden halt, “Are you here to talk to me about last night then?”

His answer was not what you had expected. “I do not recall much of the night.”

You stared at him, “You don’t?”

He looked like he felt miserable at the memory of the ale’s taste. “I did not think that some ale would be so strong.”

It made sense, some were just drunk faster than others and the Ash Man had probably not tasted ale until last night. But he did not even remember what he had tried to do…What if other things had happened that he was not aware off?

You crossed your arms, upset that he had forgotten, “Did you find yourself company last night?”

His eyes narrowed at the question, then widened when he understood, “Pardon?”

It was a genuine concern, if he had tried to kiss you, who was to say that another at the celebration had not given in to advances made?

There had been many drunk people in the castle…

Or what if someone had taken advantage of him in that state?

You voiced your concern, “If you were so drunk that you can’t remember what happened last night, I worry about what happened in the time that you cannot seem to recall.”

“I awoke alone.” Was all he wished to answer, while a tint of red crept up his cheeks.

That was a relief to hear, “Unharmed?”

A second passed before he gave a nod.

“Good…” The gnawing feeling remained in your stomach.

So it had been the ale to make him behave in such a way, and it still left you upset, hurt…

You repressed the feeling it gave you, it reminded you of the days when your feelings were crushed every time Matthew found another to give his affections to. The pain was similar, yet different, worse in a way.

A silence had passed between you, one that lasted longer than you were aware off, it seemed to have alarmed him.

His index finger gently touched your hand and pulled you out of your wandering thoughts, “Are you alright?”

You quickly nodded. “I’m alright. I haven’t slept much last night, that’s all.”

Something changed in his expression, it was gone in a blink.

You reached out and put your hand to the front of his head, it wasn’t necessary to place it there but it distracted from the situation. It costed you only a bit off energy to use your magic to fix the result of his drunken night.

You withdrew your hand right after. “Don’t tell anyone I healed that. And I won’t be doing it a second time.”

He seemed a bit stunned by the kind gesture, “I-… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Without asking, you reached for and stole the short sword from at his hip. “I’m borrowing this.”

The Ash Man did not easily part with his weapons and stopped you from walking away, “Why?”

You swatted away his arm that he was using to block your path. “To teach my cousin how to wield it.”

“I could help.” He offered.

An awkward chuckle fell from your lips. “Lancelot. I do not mean to upset you, but it might be a little soon for the people here to see you handling a sword near a Fey child.”

He felt slight disappointment, but gave another offer, “I see your point. And if I help you, help him?”

That sounded like a nice idea. “I’d like that.”

The shy careful smile on his face in response was lovely to see.

You gestured for him to follow. “Come on. We’re taking them outside the walls. Less chance to be seen by concerned or nosy people.”

He did not need to be asked twice and walked beside you to go and fetch the children.

He had been anxious to set foot outside his room that morning, knowing that he would have to face you after last night. It was cowardly, but the risk of losing your friendship over his drunken mistake was worse than the shame he felt for lying. All he could hope was that it had not made matters worse.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Squirrel and Ciro took turns with handling the short sword you had borrowed from Lancelot, who stood at a small distance to watch the lesson.

Often he gave you advice on how to teach them to wield the sword. And when he sometimes commented on your own sword skills, you resist the urge to grab a handful of grass and go and throw it at him.

He seemed very aware of how easily you could erupted in fury when he did it, like he enjoyed dancing on that thin line with you.

You focused on the children and decided to ignore his ‘helpful’ advice for a while.

Lancelot could tell that you had begun to ignore him, and he just watched the children interact with you in silence.

The weather was pleasant, the day calm, as if the fort and village took a day to rest after last night. Percival was even helping young Ciro when the boy lost confidence. And you encouraged them both, even if they made mistakes. It was the complete opposite compared to the tutors he grew up with while being trained.

Would he have become so skilled with the sword if he had one as kind as you to tutor him? Perhaps not.

Would he still prefer your lessons?

Without a doubt.

The Sky Folk scent filled his nostrils, a moment later Ser Matthew stopped to stand beside him.

The Sky Man crossed his arms to watch you beside the Ash Man. “She looked beautiful last night. You should have seen her. "

He looked at him from the corners of his eyes, and resisted the urge to roll them at him, “I see her daily.”

Your beauty was always present.

Matthew’s brows drew together for a second, and he looked at him for a moment before returning his eyes to your direction. “Indeed. I do not understand why she allows it, but I suppose she has her mother’s kind heart. Always helping all the damaged folks.”

Damaged…

How could he not take it as an insult, when he could sense that the knight had meant it as one? He disliked this dance around the issue that Matthew was forcing him in. It was difficult to defend oneself if he used a passive aggressive way to communicate.

The knight filled the silence between them by talking. Matthew proved to be quite the open book, “I always knew she liked me. I was flattered by the attention of course. Unfortunately I did not reciprocated it, I was aiming my affection on others. But now I see my mistake. Her inexperience does not frighten me anymore.”

Your… inexperience?

Lancelot parroted it in disbelief, “Her inexperience?”

The man proved to be unable to keep a secret, “She told me her secret once, and I don’t think it has changed since she left.”

It was clear to him that the knight was speaking of your virtue. The Ash Man flexed his hand, feeling the familiar urge to reach for his sword arise.

He tried to remain calm, even though he severely disliked how disrespectful the man was to be speaking of this secret you had confided to him, “Do you find this proper, to share such personal knowledge of her with others?”

Matthew looked at him, hearing the sharp tone. “You were a monk, were you not? Then consider this a confession and do not share it with others.”

The audacity this ‘knight’ had…

Lancelot turned to him, feeling how he was losing his patience, “It is you who should not be sharing this with others! Have you no respect for her?!”

The knight gravely disliked the tone, and made little effort to hide that he was not blind to the way the Ash Man behaved when it came to you, “I have more respect for her than you. I wouldn’t have gone to her chamber’s door in the midst of the night while drunk.”

So the knight he had seen that night had told him of it. He knew what Matthew was implying, and it felt like he was threatening his stay in the fort.

For him, this ‘friendly’ conversation was over and he turned to walk away.

Matthew made the mistake to not let him walk away from this conversation without saying to him, “I will teach her all there is to know, I wasn’t raised a monk.”

It was the matter of what it implied that had tossed burning oil unto his protectiveness towards you. The way he spoke of you was utterly discourteous, as if you were something that needed to be ‘fixed’ before Matthew would be happy to have you…

A loud curse distracted you from the children and you looked towards the men who stood at the side where the sound had come from. It was Matthew who was cursing, blood ran down from his nose. You saw the culprit storm off without explanation, the children looked very confused.

That hotheaded…

Matthew was left utterly flabbergasted and held a hand over his bleeding nose. If he told the other knights or your father of this…

“Squirrel, will you take Ciro back to the fort?” You pleaded with the boy.

Squirrel could tell that you needed some time to see to this problem, he nodded and gave you a sympathetic look. “Come, Ciro.”

Ciro followed the boy without protest, any excuse to just play was good enough for him. They walked past Matthew who was calming down, but visibly biting back the pain. You approached him, and did not expect him to be as agitated as he was.

“What is his problem?!” Matthew exclaimed.

“I don’t know. What did you say to him?” You were as lost as he was.

He thought you were blaming him, “Me? He’s the one that struck me!”

You didn’t like to be shouted at. “I am just trying to figure out what went wrong! Lancelot wouldn’t just hit my friends.”

Matthew went quiet all of a sudden, then became evasive. “I think we misunderstood each other.”

You repeated him in disbelief, “Misunderstood? He hit you! There had to be a reason, what-”

He was clearly trying to keep you in the dark about something. “It was a misunderstanding, y/n. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your father of his behavior. "

It was frustrating, but at least he wouldn’t bring this up to your father. “Thank you. Do you want me to heal your injury?”

“No. Leave it.” Matthew walked away from you to calm down at the fort.

You stood there alone, not really knowing what to do.

Why had Lancelot done this? And why did Matthew not just tell you?

The Ash Man had stormed off in the direction of the stables, and you headed there too.

You found him with Goliath, he was quietly mumbling to his horse. It sounded somewhat between affection and getting his thoughts off of his chest. It wasn’t easy to be mad at him when seeing how gently he spoke to Goliath.

You made no effort to announce your presence, he would catch your scent by the time you were close enough to him. “I hope you will tell me what that was about, and that I do not have to ask Goliath.”

“Ask your honey-eyed knight.” He coldly said, not looking in your direction.

“He’s not my knight!” You snapped back insulted. “What on earth has gotten into you?!”.

He just needed a moment to himself to calm down. But you were here to confront him about the altercation.

He wanted to walk out of the stables, but you blocked him.

You stood in his path, “Forget it. You’re not just walking away without telling me why you hit Matthew.”

It annoyed him, “What did he say happened?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “He said it was a misunderstanding.”

A wise choice.

Lancelot failed to meet your eyes. “It was.”

You kept your stern stance. “If it was, perhaps you should apologize to him.”

“No.” Was his firm answer to that.

“You do realize that he could tell my father of this?” You tried to make him see reason.

He hated how easily he could be send away, or to the dungeons, “Then I will tell your father that his ‘knight’ speaks off you inappropriately.”

Lancelot managed to walk past you and you grabbed hold of his arm to stop him.

“What do you mean?” Your heart sank a little.

All he had bottled up since last night came out.

He sounded frustrated by it all, “Your ‘friend’ is who I thought he was. He behaves improper. Is he the man you are infatuated with?” The rest was spoken as if it was only to himself, like he could not wrap his head around it, “A man who did not look your way for years, until now.”

You took a step back, recoiling at his words. It had sounded condescending…

Upon seeing it, he tried to take it back, “I did not mean to-”

You felt verbally attacked. “Perhaps you are right and I have a tendency to surround myself with men who behave questionably. Take you for example, you are so ‘proper’ that you don’t even remember that you tried to kiss me when you were drunk!”

He fell silent immediately.

You waited for a reaction that never came, it was so disappointing, “Do you have nothing to say about that?”

The poor apology came out quickly, “I never would have done it if I was sober.”

It was the worst thing he could have said to you. Your self-esteem took a merciless blow. Your words struck back at him, “Good! Neither would I have wanted you to!”

He never thought someone could stab him in the heart with words and twist them into it so fast that it even made him feel nauseated.

You turned to leave the stables, he caught your elbow and you whipped your head back to glare at him.

“What did Matthew say to you?!” You demanded the truth.

Seeing the distress in your eyes made him want to lie to spare you from the pain it could bring.

You could see him debate on answering, which was infuriating. “Tell me!”

Lancelot finally answered the question, “He is interested in you.” He looked apologetic, “But he speaks of your personal matters with others.”

The fear what that could mean took hold on you, “What personal matters?”

The pause he took before answering should have warned you of what was to come.

“He spoke of your… inexperience.” He said it quietly, as if he feared someone outside the stables would hear.

A cold feeling spread through your body and made you feel faint.

He was quick to notice the bad response and stepped closer to support you by the elbow, “Y/n?”

The familiar whispers of the Hidden were alarming now, if the old gods were concerned, he certainly was.

Humiliation caused your anxiety to spike into a height you had not known it could take, these past weeks had made you more susceptible for it, you just had not felt it until now. How could Matthew do this? What other secrets had he shared with others?!? One friend had tried to kiss you and called it a mistake, the other had shared an intimate secret with others. Could this day get any worse?

You tried to step away and pull your elbow loose from his careful hold.

He did not let it happen and saw how deeply hurt you looked.

You weren’t even aware that you were crying until the warmth of your tears came down over your cheeks.

“Why would he…” Your arms came up to your chest and formed a shield, the sudden vulnerability after your broken trust was overwhelming.

Lancelot tried to cup your cheek, but you turned your head away, you almost begged him not to see your tears.

“This… is humiliating.” The courage to meet his eyes was gone.

When you tried to pull free a second time, he responded by pulling you against him. The protest died in your throat when he brought his arms around you, cradling your head just as he had done when he had freed you from the darkness of the cell. Even though he had upset you a moment earlier, you still found the comfort you craved in his embrace. You let it happen, feeling his arms close around and letting your head rest against his chest.

“You are aware that I am upset with you too?” You broke the silence that was growing more comfortable by the second. Your voice was cracking and breaking from emotion.

“I am. Your hand is near my daggers if you need one.” He offered you the option.

You couldn’t resist and actually moved your hand a little, he was telling the truth. “Oaf.”

He whispered the promise against your hair, “I will not tell another soul what I know, you have my word.”

Oddly enough, you trusted that he wouldn’t, he was not the sort to spread this kind of information around. By putting your hands on his upper arms, you slowly pushed yourself free from the embrace, making sure that he would not think that you wanted to get away from him quickly. Your eyes lifted to his, your heart trembled under the gaze he cast over your face. The feeling it send through you made you take a large step back, leaving him confused.

The sound of hooves and voices came from outside the stable, seconds later your father and some of the knights entered with their horses. These knights looked towards Helio, who was the last to see his daughter and the Ash Man in the stables together.

“Father.” You greeted him and saw how he barely acknowledged it, his eyes were on Lancelot behind you.

Looks were shared between the knights while they led their horses further into the stables.

Helio handed the reins of his horse to one of them and finally acknowledged you, “Y/n. Walk with me to the fort, there is something I wish to speak to you about.”

Well… those were words you had not heard from him in a very long time. Your feet felt like they were weighed down by lead when you began to follow him out of the stables.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Helio waited to say what was on his mind until you were a little further away from the stables.

“What did you wish to speak to me about, father?” You hoped you weren’t in any trouble again.

He made you wait for the answer for almost a full minute, as if he found it hard to start, “I have been thinking about how much I have shielded you when you were younger.”

What? You never thought he would spend his time thinking about it.

He saw the widening of your eyes. “I am your father, y/n. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to grow up without having to suffer as our people have. And by trying to protect you too much, I have failed in that task. I scared you away from home and into the hands of our enemies.”

You stopped in your tracks. “What happened to me was not your fault. There was no stopping me once the Hidden kept calling upon my help.”

He would not ignore his fault in what had happened, “Did I not keep you away from returning to us?”

Telling the truth felt like the first step to fix things between you. “You made me think I did not belong here anymore.”

“I know.” Helio could not hide the remorse in his voice. “I know.”

A short silence passed before he spoke again and placed his hands on your shoulders, “You belong with us, always and forever. We are no home without you.”

Oh, how you had longed to hear him speak of it openly…

He cupped your neck. “There is no heaven for us without our little moons. I will not lose my daughter a second time. That is why I have brought some changes to the fort.”

Your heart was filling with joy, “What sort of changes?”

“One in particular is meant for you.” He put a hand on your shoulder again. “Making Matthew a knight offers the opportunity to let him be closer to you. I know your eyes have been on him for so long, I hope this will prove to you that I wish to make amends. I will not object to a joining between you.”

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[iambutmortal]

Watch Me Burn

Chapter 3

Summary: Lucien Vanserra, Godkiller and disgraced prince, is more than content on his own. He doesn't need his family, or his wife, or his former friend. Hasn't needed them in years. But when villages start being attacked by a force he thought he'd destroyed years ago, he's forced back into their company to retrieve the mysterious firebird and save his kingdom from ruin.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 2.1k

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Authors Note: Remember when I said daily ish updates and then didn't update for four days. Well clearly I shouldn't be trusted with deadlines. And as always, for the amazing @labellefleur-sauvage for the @acotargiftexchange

Present

“Hello, wife.”

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Elain said, rising slowly to her feet. Her dress was cut low, showing off the swell of her breasts. In spite of himself, Lucien felt his gaze drawn there, before he tore it away to focus on Elain’s smirking face.

Oh she definitely knew where he was looking.

“So town reeve,” Lucien said, clearing his throat. He shifted slightly to hide the evidence of the blood flowing to his cock. “That’s new.”

Elain tossed a silky, golden curl over her shoulder. “You took so long I had some time to persuade Kouemos of my leadership skills.”

“With your tongue or your magic?” Lucien taunted.

Elain stalked towards him, placed one hand on his chest and shoved. “I don’t need magic to get people to love me.”

Lucien’s chest burned where she touched him, and he caught her hand up in his, holding it safely away from him. “No, only to keep them around.”

Elain looked like she wanted to spit on him. She wrenched her hand out of his grasp. “I didn’t summon you here so you could insult me.”

“What happened to the old Lord, Elain?” Lucien asked, not one to be distracted. “What was his name, Nolan?”

“Nolan’s been dead for years,” Elain said. “A unicorn rode through town and his heart gave out from shock.” She snorted. “Spent fifty years building walls to keep magic away, and it was his fear that took him out.”

“Lord Graysen then, what of him?”

Elain stiffened. “Joined his father in the ground a few months ago. Not long after I showed up.” She tilted her chin up, daring him to challenge her.

“Attagirl,” Lucien said, leaning closer until his mouth was practically pressed against her neck. He loosened his grip on his sword, letting it drop to the ground.  “The knife work I showed you pay off?”

“No,” Elain growled. “I don’t need your help.”

“Except now,” Lucien smirked, sliding past her and plopping on the bed. He propped his boots up onto the white bedspread, just to watch her nostrils flair in irritation as he smeared mud on it. “Finally come across a problem you can’t solve by growing plants?”

Elain walked towards the bed and slapped him. Lucien laughed, his cheek stinging. Elain looked ready to hit him again, but before she could, Lucien wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

Elain’s long legs bracketed his thighs, and she surged forward to kiss him, biting down hard on his lower lip. The taste of blood hit Lucien’s tongue and he groaned, reaching down to drag Elain’s pink dress up around her hips.

At the same time, Elain grabbed his belt buckle, working it open and pulling out his now fully hard cock. Elain ran her fingers over it, and Lucien bucked his hips up into her hand.

Elain pulled away from the kiss long enough to give him a smug smile, before sinking down onto his length.

“Fuck,” Lucien groaned. 

Elain ground her hips against his and Lucien gasped.

“Something wrong, your highness?” she asked, eyes wide with mock ignorance. Like she wasn’t deliberately driving him out of his rutting mind.

“You know I hate that term,” Lucien growled, gripping her hips tight enough to bruise.

Elain gave him another rough kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth. “Not when I say it.”

Lucien grunted in response. 

In the five years since he’d left Auden, they’d run into each other on occasion. An occupational hazard. And every time, they ended up in each other’s beds, coupling for a few rough bouts of love making. They were both under no illusion their marriage meant they had some special claim on the other, but it did confer some benefits when they ended up in the same spot.

Or, at least, Lucien assumed they had on such claim of loyalty. He may have no interest in women outside of Elain, no matter how often opportunity presented itself, but he’d long decided he was happier not knowing if she felt the same way. And he’d resolved not to tell Elain about his own duty to his marriage vows. Better to keep some things private.

Above him, Elain’s full lips parted as she sucked in air. Her breasts swayed with each rock of her hips, and Lucien reached a hand up to grab the neckline of her dress, yanking it down. It tore easily under his touch, and Lucien half wondered if that wasn’t intentional. Some quirk of the fabric Elain had chosen to exploit.

Lucien took one erect nipple between his teeth, nipping at it lightly, and Elain practically screamed. 

“Something the matter, your highness?” Lucien asked, releasing her breast with one final, hard tug.

Elain scowled and reached a hand between them to finger her clit. “Only that I have to do everything myself.”

Lucien grabbed her wrist, and pulled her arm away from where their bodies joined. “How quickly you forget, princess.”

“Forget what?” Elain asked, batting her brown eyes. In response, Lucien thrust his hips up, making sure to hit that spot deep inside her he knew had her falling apart in seconds. Sure enough, Elain’s eyes rolled back as she groaned, her core clenching around him.

“Do I need to remind you again?”

Elain hesitated and Lucien tugged up on her wrist, pulling her body taunt.

“Do I?”

“Please,” Elain whined, and Lucien slowly dragged his hips down before slamming them back up. Elain’s breath hitched, they way it always did before she fell apart completely, and Lucien winked as he found that spot a third time. Elain broke apart around him, her cunt squeezing his length, sending release barreling down his own spine.

A few quick, short strokes worked them both through their climaxes. Lucien dropped Elain’s hand, checking her wrist for any signs of bruising. 

“I’m fine,” she said, pulling it away.

Lucien sighed, letting her go. He wrapped an arm gently around her waist, pleased when she didn’t immediately remove it. “Why did you call me here, Elain?”

“The Wild Hunt is back.”

Lucien sat upright so fast Elain had to brace herself against his chest to keep from falling off his lap. “Fuck.”

Elain grinned ruefully, fingering the fabric of his shirt. “Turns out we didn’t take care of it as well as we thought last time.”

“Fuck,” Lucien repeated. “Are you sure?”

“The signs are all there–people going missing, livestock slaughtered, churches burned. And it’s all happening along the borders.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it,” Elain said, rising off him and brushing down her skirt. “I thought it would be something talked about in your network.

Lucien reached down to close his pants back up. “I’ve been avoiding the border.”

“I figured,” Elain said, pulling one of countless leather clad tomes off her bookshelf. “But the attacks have been spreading out over the past couple months, going deeper and deeper into Auden.” She opened the book, letting it fall open to a specific page, and turned around to show it to him.

Lucien looked at the rough sketch of a bird engulfed in flame and quirked his brow. “The firebird? That’s a myth.”

“I thought so too,” Elain said. “Until one of Eris’ soldiers went up Mount Vasilisa and came down raving about the whole mountain top being on fire.

“So Eris thinks this firebird can stop the Hunt?” Lucien chose not to ask why Elain knew so much about what his brother’s troops were up to.

Elain pointed to a line in the book. “The firebird can break any bonds that tie. Including the ones that tie the Wild Hunt to the earth.”

“And Eris decided to send us to go get it,” Lucien supplied.

“Preferably before the meeting of the King.” The meeting once every ten years where the monarchs of the continent’s kingdoms got together and pretended they didn’t want to kill each other. This time Eris had been chosen to host, and Lucien had been planning to be far, far away from Auben by then.

“That’s in a fortnight,” Lucien protested. “It takes half that time just to get to the mountain.”

“Then it’s a good thing Eris picked the town below it to host the meeting,” Elain chirped.

“Eris just thought of everything, didn't he.” Lucien bent down to retrieve his sword from where he’d dropped it. “Next time you see my brother, tell him to ask me in person if he wants me to do his dirty work.”

Elain crossed her arms, pushing up her still exposed chest. “So you’re not coming then? You’re just going to leave?”

“What do you care?”

Elain took a step between him and the door, blocking him in. “Is Auden not my country now? Am I not its princess?”

“If you consider yourself that,” Lucien conceded. “Although how far you’d get being married to the cast out seventh son Godkiller…”

“Who’s still the brother of a King. And the son of another. And both their land is being destroyed right now.” Elain raised her chin, somehow managing to look down at him despite being nearly a head shorter.

Lucien glared at her for a long moment before sagging in defeat. “Tell Eris there’d better be a large sack of gold waiting for me when we get to the bottom of this mountain.”

Elain’s triumphant grin was practically fox-like. “I’ll make sure to tell him his brother’s sense of familial duty remains just as profit motivated as ever. Now give me your shirt, since you ruined my dress.”

Lucien tugged off the sweat soaked linen and offered it to her. She pulled it on, and opened the door.

Jurian, his ear pressed against the wood, nearly fell on the floor.

“It’s you,” Lucien said, voice utterly impassive. 

“I told you to stay away,” Elain hissed.

Jurian scrambled to right himself, squaring his broad shoulders and pasting a broad grin on his face. “Good to see you again too, Lucien. It’s been, what, five years?”

Lucien nodded once in recognition. “Been keeping yourself busy?” He asked more out of politeness than any genuine interest. He couldn’t find it in him to care, not about Jurian.

“Oh I’ve been around,” Jurian said, waving his hand. “Playing in taverns, working my way through all the finest cities.”

“Bursting the eardrums of everyone in this castle with your music,” Elain muttered, and Lucien chuckled in spite of himself.

“What was that?” Jurian asked, pretending not to hear.

“Elain gave him a pretty smile, one that made Lucien’s heart pull a bit. Why did Jurian get to see them but not him. “Oh, nothing.”

“Good,” Jurian said, giving Elain an equally simpering look. “Because I’ve so been enjoying your hospitality for these past weeks, and I’d hate for anything to taint that.”

Lucien’s brow shot up. Weeks?

“Turns out me and Jurian can get along when we have certain common interests to motivate us,” Elain said sweetly, reading Lucien’s expression.

“Great,” Lucien mumbled. He eyed Jurian, looking for any indication those common interests included something of the more carnal nature. Jurian winked at him, but knowing Jurian that could mean any number of things. “And do those common interests extend to Mount Vasilisa?”

“Yes,” Jurian said, at the same time Elain said, “no.”

“For the last time, you’re not coming,” Elain snapped.

“I think you’ll find my particular talents very helpful,” Jurian said, gesturing to the lute strapped across his back.

“Sure, if we need to scare someone off,” Elain shot back. “They’ll run away with their ears bleeding.”

“Useful when we need to take care of the firebird’s guards,” Jurian said.

Elain turned to Lucien. “Tell him no.”

Lucien eyed the bard, taking in the fine tunic, and hands with a few more calluses than one would expect from a musician.

“He can come,” Lucien said.

Elain huffed and stormed past Jurian, down towards where Lucien knew the castle stalls were. Jurian made to follow her, but Lucien grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close.

“If you do anything during this to put us in danger, if you breathe a word of this, I’ll flay you alive and string your guts from the nearest church steeple.”

“What about your wife,” Jurian protested. “Not worried she’ll stab us all in the back again?”

Lucien tightened his grip. “I’ll worry about her. You worry about yourself. Got it?”

He could see Jurian swallow. “Got it.”

[psychologicalwarclaire]

This is a cut scene from Chapter fourteen of Spider's Web With Strings Attached that I couldn't make work with the rest of the chapter. It works better as a short snippet anyway.

Hamato Family D&D Night

As much of a nerd as Donnie was, he wasn’t the biggest Dungeons & Dragons player in the family. That mantle fell to Leo. His fascination with knights and dragons had only grown over time. He forced his brothers to play with him (April refused after the Cosplay Wizard Freakout of 2016).

To say that it was a disaster would have been an understatement.

Leo was the Dungeon Master, but was admittedly terrible at it. He had a favorite NPC (Luscious-locks the Elf) who never failed at anything to an obnoxious degree. He’d made Luscious-locks seem like the main character of the whole campaign, much to the chagrin of his brothers. However, his brothers weren’t much better at playing either.

Raph’s character adopted every single animal they encountered. (“Raph for the last time, you already have six stray cats.” “But Raph needs a seventh to name them all after days of the week!”)

Mikey always spent too long making the most intricate backstory for his character he could think of. And then he was never consistent with his roleplaying. Some days his character wanted to solve everyone else's problems with kind words and hugs. Other times he was the first to suggest burning a village to the ground to solve its grasshopper problem. It made for a rather frustrating experience.

And then there was Donnie.

He did not seem to understand the words “suspend your disbelief”. If Leo described a town their characters visated, Donnie demanded a map, a list of all the citizens, their ages and professions, a layout of the irrigation system, and a detailed list of the materials the town used.

“I don’t know!” Leo cried at last. “Oak houses, or something!”

“But you specifically described that the woods around the village were made out of birch wood. This begs the question: where did they get their oak? They’re not near a major road for trading, and there are no rivers in sight. In fact, this village is surrounded by mountains, meaning trade with the entirety of the outside world is extremely difficult! Therefore, this village must have obtained their oak wook through illegal magical practices, and the evil wizard Sathsomore must be hiding out here. We should burn these oak houses to the ground.”

“I second that!” Mikey piped up. “I cast fireball!”

Leo banged his head against the table. “Mikey, you’re a barbarian; you don’t have magic!”

“But I rolled a 20!”

“Raph’s character wants to save all the animals before we burn it down!”

“Too late, I already set the tavern on fire…” Donnie said flatly.

With all the maturity of a thirteen-year-old boy (which he was), Leo flipped the table. For years afterwards, dice could be found in the corners of the Lair.

And so Hamato family Dungeons & Dragons game nights were no longer a thing.

[heliads]

everything is blue • conrisa space au • Chapter One: Some Run

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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Connor Lassiter has only existed in these worlds for sixteen turns around his system’s sun, and yet his time is already over. It’s funny, really. If he was going to be taken apart, he was really hoping that he’d be able to make it to seventeen. It always seemed like a good year. Or maybe that’s just because seventeen is when you can start the training process to get your cosmic license, and although Connor never breathed a word of it to anyone, he’s always been angling to make it past the atmosphere, even just once.

Now, it looks like he’ll get his wish to leave his birth planet behind, but that’s the only good part about all of this. Connor will never be able to explore deep space, he’ll never chase down settlements on rogue moons, and he’ll never so much as see a binary sunrise, because Connor Lassiter is going to die, and worst of all, no one in this system or any other will fight it.

Even Connor can’t believe it’s really happening. Sure, he’s had this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that his home has stopped being his for quite some time now, but he always assumed he could do something to pull himself out of it. Yeah, he mouthed off in class, and only ever turned up at home after curfew, long past when he was supposed to, but none of those are grounds for this, right? Right?

Not according to his parents, because they’re the ones who have gone and signed away his grounds license. Horrific. Connor found the proof of it by accident, aimlessly scrolling through his parents’ hololibrary in search of something interesting to read or watch. Instead of a new show, though, Connor had accidentally clicked on the tab for his parents’ private work files. 

Connor usually never bothers checking that stuff– who cares about interplanetary taxes and star system loans, anyway– but just as he’d been about to go back to the entertainment folder, he’d spotted his name on a file that read:  Destined for Distribution, and then he’d known.

There’s an old saying about how it takes a lunar colony to raise a child, but sometimes even the proverbial interstellar village isn’t enough. Sometimes you can’t force your offspring to be what you want. The governments of the worlds puzzled over such a dilemma for a long time– if you can’t shape the young generation, after all, you risk losing control of all of humanity forever– and after a series of Heartland Wars and internal disputes, they came up with a solution:  distribution.

Space travel is a relatively new problem in the history of humanity, but they’ve already managed to mess it up. Those in charge at the start of it all wanted new flights, new discoveries, to take over every planet they saw regardless of who lived there and the downfalls of having to carry on a society in every direction. 

After sinking their claws into every star system they could reach, the tension of frenetic interstellar improvement slackened, and what was left was a hastily constructed dystopia, prone to falling apart under the slightest of scuffles. We’re kind of a terrible species, humans, all things considered. We don’t wait until we’ve solved world peace before we take our problems to other planetary systems. Instead, we spread out our grievances until everyone in all the worlds has to suffer as much as we did.

The problem with fast-paced space exploration is that the early adventurers burned through resources just as quickly as they did back on planet Earth, which is now barely more than a clod of ash and dust. To make up for the demands without having to change their tactics, the centralized government sent out a mandate to all its territories:  why not solve two problems in one? Get rid of the teenage crisis by using their resources in a better way. Distribute what the ferals would take up to those who could actually use it.

There’s no way the idea of distribution should have taken on as strongly as it did. Maybe it wasn’t as inhumane in the beginning as they did now, maybe it literally was just about giving away food and clothing and shelter. Now, though? Distribution doesn’t just represent physical objects. It means that the actual bits and pieces of you, the bloody matter and bleached bones that are currently in the body of a child marked for distribution, will be spun apart into individual fragments and given away. 

There’s the idea that there’s only so much space left in space, so to speak, so if you’re no longer needed, your pieces will get distributed to those who need it more. That’s how our glorious society keeps growing, no longer out but in.

Every bit of you will be gone, destined for some better purpose. Some would say that’s poetic. Connor, who is slated to be killed in just this fashion, would call it gruesome. However, no one really cares about the thoughts of someone marked for distribution, and they’re certainly not going to start now. Hell, they haven’t been listening to him for years. Why change?

As Connor swiped through the distribution forms signed in triplicate according to some tradition from a long dead planet, he was chillingly reminded of how easy it was to get rid of him. Every person born on any planet within the Collective’s reach is given a grounds license when they draw their first breath. When it’s decided that they no longer deserve the air in their lungs, the Collective takes back the air and lungs both. Your grounds license is revoked, and from that moment forward, you cease to exist in any way that matters.

After that, you’re sent for distribution. By turning in the forms to confiscate your grounds license, your parents essentially send the Juvey-cops after you. Most kids don’t find out they’re going to get distributed until the Juveys show up at their house and take them away. They’ll have just enough time for a few cries of outrage before getting packaged into a shuttle and spirited to a nearby lunar colony so the doctors can cut you to ribbons. Delightful.

If, on the off chance, you actually do manage to find out that you’re going to get torn to pieces in the name of an equal and fair government, such as Connor, you have a chance to run. He’ll try, of course, but even as he makes his final preparations to kick-AWOL, some disheartening voice in the back of his head tells him that he probably isn’t going to make it very far. You can’t do anything without a grounds license. Not easily, of course. In all honesty, it’s probably just a matter of time until the Juvey-cops catch up to him.

Of course he’s going to run, though. Connor Lassiter is not the type to sit around and wait for his death to come to him. He’ll run until they strip away his very legs. Until then, he can grab a go bag, walk around his house one last time, and then leave in the dead of night before anyone thinks to catch him.

Connor hovers one last second over the threshold of his open door. After this, his fate is up in the air. He could get caught within moments, or he could somehow find a way to stick it out until his eighteenth birthday and survive to tell the tale. The only way he’ll know the answer to that story is if he leaves now.

Connor pushes the air from his lungs and goes. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Connor Lassiter officially disappears. From now on, it’s all up to him. His best plan is to head towards a nearby interstellar transport depot, hope he can find some absentminded pilot who won’t notice some kid sneaking into the back of his starlight frigate, and take him away from this planet. Once he’s offworld, he’ll be able to breathe a little easier. There’s no way they’ll be able to find one kid in a trillion if he finds a far enough system, right?

Until then, Connor will have to keep his head low. Juvey-cops aren’t the only thugs with guns who can cause him trouble. A crop of creeps called parts pirates have sprung up, and if it wasn’t terrible enough to have your limbs hacked off by trained professionals, imagine all that happening by the hands of black market dealers. At that point, Connor would rather just turn himself in, even though that’s a possibility more remote than anything. They say it’s within their rights to take the groundsless off the streets, so whatever the parts pirates do along the way is just another obstacle he’ll have to avoid.

As if he’s got a ton of great choices, though. Connor’s going to be unwound. That term’s been discouraged by the Collective ever since the idea of distribution picked up steam– it’s discourteous to the victims of distribution, apparently, and casts a pall on the whole process– but, like, they’re taking Connor’s organs, so he feels like he can call it whatever he wants. Fuck. He’s an Unwind. Why should they care what gory words he uses to describe it? They can dry their tears with his skin grafts.

Connor makes it to the transport depot by foot about an hour and a half later. Not a bad time, all things considered, but his veins are still thrumming with an unearthly need to get away by the time the rows of landing zones come into view. It takes some difficulty to hop the fence on the back end, but it’s old and no one really bothers checking here anyway. No one turns up to a depot like this unless you’re low on fuel or maglev boots before your next trip out of the star system.

Or, of course, unless you’re Connor Lassiter and you’re going to die. Connor hits the ground and nearly takes a spill before managing to right himself just in time. It would not do to break an ankle or something before he can even get onto a ship. Injuries would only slow him down, and the Juveys would have plenty of time to wait for his unwinding while the bone mended.

Connor slinks between rows of sleeping cruisers. He’ll have to pick his ticket to freedom carefully. A lot of the old interstellar war vets took to transportation jobs once they were out of the line of duty, apparently they like having a low-stress profession while still getting to see the stars, but they’ll aim at any unwanted visitors with the same reflexes as back in their soldier days.

No, Connor’s better off hitching a ride with a newbie or someone else who’s checked out enough to forget to do a once-over of their cargo bay. He finds the perfect place down a few rows– an old cargo boat, HBY-300s class. Old as anything, and, judging by the pervasive rust stains, not well looked after. Connor can’t see any lights on in the pilot’s seat, so he hurries up the landing ramp and immediately trips the security system. 

He doesn’t even see it coming, which is not great for his chances, obviously. He should have assumed there would be something like this, but Connor has been jittery for days now, and at some point his guard, already low, just gave up on him. Lights flash on and the beeping voice of a security AI announces him as ConNor LasSiter, AWOL. 

Too late, Connor spots the notice of registration fastened on the side of the ship, how it’s under the ownership of a former Juvey-cop. Probably one still missing the old glory days of hunting down kids who kicked-AWOL, judging by the overeager defense mechanisms. The guy spends his days ferrying shipments from one corner of the galaxy to another, and in his downtime, he picks up escaped Unwinds. How patriotic of him to fulfill such an important civic duty.

Connor swears under his breath, immediately turning tail and sprinting out of the ship. Lights start to click on across the depot’s hangar bay, and the telltale siren of things gone badly begins to echo across the empty space. Connor can hear the sounds of people starting to rush towards the ships, and he cuts an increasingly narrow diagonal across the shipyard, trying to stay out of the path of search beams.

After hauling ass back over the fence, which seems twice as difficult to climb now that he’s in danger, Connor hurtles across plain cement, aiming for the untamed forest across the road. It’s so wild in there that it would be impossible for low flying craft to find him which, judging by the increasing din of engines coming his way, is a necessity right now. 

He didn’t think they’d be able to find him so fast, but maybe one of his parents stopped by his room already and figured out he was gone. They could have called the Juvey-cops and had them here by now, especially with Mr. Reliving the Glory Days of Police Work back there already getting a facial scan on him. Connor thought he had been smart by ditching any tech so they couldn’t track him, but he’s forgotten one crucial thing about the life of an AWOL:  you don’t just have to be smart, you have to be lucky. Looks like Connor’s days of finding four leaf synth-clovers are behind him.

Out of the depot’s floodlights, the ground under Connor’s feet quickly transitions from concrete to grass. The sudden softness making him stumble. As Connor straightens back up, he has to fling an arm in front of his face to protect himself from a sudden, powerful wind coursing down around him. The grass, illuminated out of nowhere by twin blinding beams, is bent flat to the ground from the force of an engine. The engine of a small shuttle, as it turns out. A Juvey-cop’s shuttle, which has found him.

Connor can see the reflection of his eyes, wide as dinner plates, on the shiny surface of the shuttle. He looks terrified, and a bit insane, which all things considered isn’t the least realistic depiction of him. Connor’s brain is a mess. He thought he’d have a little more time until the law enforcement found him. Looks like his period of staying undercover has come and gone.

The shuttle jerks to a landing in front of him, and a man begins to come down the landing ramp, tranq gun in his hands. Connor freezes for a moment, then drags himself to attention as the man gets closer. Once he’s far enough down that Connor can read the name stitched into the pocket of his uniform– Officer J.T. Nelson– Connor gets himself together and runs, rolling under the nose of the craft to the small space underneath the belly of the ship. This clearly disorients the Juvey-cop, whose footsteps abruptly come to a halt on the metal walkway before continuing again, albeit this time slower.

“Come on out, kid,” the guy shouts, “There’s nowhere you can go.”

Connor’s not about to just turn himself in after everything, though, so he creeps further underneath the ship and around the back. The cop follows him, tucking the tranq gun into his belt so he can use his hands to help himself crouch under the lower parts of the ship in search of Connor.

“You can’t hide under here,” Officer Nelson calls, voice echoing off of the metal curves of the shuttle, “I’ll just crush you when I take off again.”

This is probably true but, as Nelson starts to stalk further around the perimeter of the shuttle, Connor gets an idea as to how he might be able to escape this little encounter. It’s a terrible idea, to be sure, and will probably get him killed if he does it wrong, but it’s not like he has any other options at the moment.

So, Connor stays deathly quiet, heart hammering in his chest as he stays pressed flat to the lower wing of the shuttle, and he waits for Nelson to walk closer. The officer indulges, drawing nearby, and Connor reaches out a trembling hand and pulls the tranq gun from the officer’s belt, just like that. Easy. The guy doesn’t even notice.

Connor eases himself out of his hiding place once Nelson has doubled back the other way, then sprints towards the landing ramp of the ship. He makes it halfway up before Nelson reacts to the sound of his heels thundering up the metal incline and bolts back towards the entrance of the shuttle.

“Get back here!” Nelson makes it to the base of the ramp just as Connor reaches the top. 

As the Juvey-cop starts to race up the landing ramp, Connor looks around wildly. His eyes land on a button near the ramp entry and he slams his palm onto it. Thankfully, the button does what Connor had hoped for and the ramp begins to fold up towards the shuttle again, unfortunately with Nelson still scrambling for purchase on the surface. Connor can’t risk the guy getting close enough for Connor to shove him off, so he looks at the tranq gun in his hands and figures out the next best thing.

Nelson reaches the same conclusion as Connor at about the same time. “Don’t you dare, kid,” he begins to shout, but Connor’s finger is already on the trigger.

The Juvey-cop jerks back with the impact of the tranquilizing dart, and he has enough time to snarl out a swear before his limp body falls backwards off of the ramp and into the grassy dirt a few feet below. The landing ramp fastens to the wall of the shuttle with a dull click, and Connor rocks back onto his heels, unable to believe what he’s just done.

He can’t stay in here forever. At some point, that cop is going to wake up, probably with reinforcements, and they’ll smoke him out or something. Then again, as the background roar of the engine reminds Connor of its presence, he realizes that he might not have to leave after all. The Juvey-cop was stupid enough to leave his ship on when he left to pursue Connor, so maybe– maybe he could just stay here after all.

Stars, maybe he could go. Up to space. Juvey-cop shuttles were designed with both ground and space capabilities in mind. He might not be able to set record hyperspace flights in this thing, but he’ll at least be able to crawl to a neighboring planet and ditch the shuttle before hitching a ride on a cruiser like his original plan.

Connor shuffles towards the pilot’s seat in the cockpit and is greeted by the sight of dozens of glowing switches and buttons, all beeping and blinking up at him. He takes a seat, staring, and then tentatively pulls up on the yoke. The shuttle lunges forward and up a little bit, sending Connor sprawling to the side until he manages to fall into the pilot’s chair once more and strap himself in.

After managing to stabilize himself and the shuttle, Connor regards the instrument panel with renewed focus. He’s never been able to get his cosmic license, and that’s damn near out of the question now that he doesn’t even have a grounds license, but he’d had a friend of a friend once who’d known a thing or two about how to fly a spacecraft. 

There was this older guy named Carson Shepherd who used to hang around the parking lot after school got out for the day. He’d sit and swap drinks with some of Connor’s friends. The guy had graduated a year or two ago, and it was anyone’s guess how he’d managed to make it to eighteen without getting his grounds license revoked. Carson had flung himself into the life of a military boeuf and wouldn’t let anyone forget it, either. He wouldn’t stop talking about how he was going to run air strafe runs on distant planets, which Connor only listened to because he’d occasionally talk about how to fly a ship.

Stuff like that was mainly brought up as a bragging point, of course, but Connor was starstruck-crazy for anything space related, so he’d tuned in as much as he could bear. Now, Connor wracks his mind for any tidbit of information Carson had given away. He needs to disengage the landing gear, he needs to get himself airborne before people start looking.

He flips a few switches and is rewarded with a grinding sound somewhere below him. A red light flickers off, and is replaced with a green one when Connor shifts the engine into a mode for takeoff. Pulling on the yoke again, this time slower, Connor is able to drag the shuttle up and up until the tops of the trees are waving below him.

He shouts once in triumph, then again, more loudly, when a readout on the dashboard offers to turn on automatic steering. Connor presses ‘accept’ as quickly as he can, then inputs a destination. Odds are, there’s a tracking beacon somewhere on this ship, so he can’t take it anywhere in the worlds, but if he swaps to another planet in the system, he can transfer to another ship that can take him far away from here.

The nav readout offers him a few choices within the same sector, OH-10, as Connor. He’s on Akron-C right now, home planet that will be home no longer, but Connor presses the button for the small moon just one orbit over, OH-10-XXIII. It’s a small lunar body, hardly anything there at all except for a State Home and some religious communities. No one would look for him there, and by the time they did, he’d be long gone.

Connor hovers by the pilot seat for a few moments longer, just in case something goes wrong, but when no warning lights flash and the air remains devoid of sirens, he accepts that he might actually have made a good decision and sinks back into his own skin, tension finally starting to melt away.

Connor watches the ship carry him up and away from the planet that had once been his own. He has no idea if he’ll ever return; if he’ll even want to, for that matter. Instead, he fixes his eyes on the ever broadening expanse of space, and lets the bright pinpricks of stars take over his mind.

Connor Lassiter is finally offworld.

unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @locke-writes

[comicaurora]

As you occasionally dispense writing advice from here that resonates, do you have any advice for or resources to point to assisting in crafting a central story arc?

With caveats that obviously no advice is universal and effort and repetition is required but to get metaphorical an average group of high school students would not be able to pilot a galleon no matter how much effort without a proper direction.

Concepts, characters, world building even the occasional cool scene come to me reasonably enough but whenever I try to string it all together things fall apart and I have years of abandoned writing projects staring back. Without a solid central plot it's just ambient vibes that doesn't go anywhere.

A central story arc is foundational to a story in the same way the tracks are foundational to a train trip. It IS important, but if it's doing its job, it's probably the part of the journey you think about the least. Instead, focus will ideally be drawn to the views, the stops, the fellow travelers and anything else encountered along the way.

There's a reason most central arcs are fundamentally very simple - they exist to enable forward motion. Most of them take the form "heroes want/need X and Y is stopping them from getting it." X is the end goal, but Y is why the plot happens.

Dorothy wants to go home. Glinda sends her on a hit first.

Frodo needs to destroy the ring. Sauron and co make this difficult.

The Beast needs true love to break his curse. His terrible people skills make this difficult.

Edward and Alphonse Elric want to restore their bodies. An ancient countrywide immortal conspiracy inconveniences them along the way.

Hamlet needs to avenge his father. Hamlet gets in the way.

Columbo wants to bring murderers to justice. Their convoluted coverups make this complicated.

Light Yagami wants to make a perfect world by killing everyone he doesn't like. Many people object to this.

Sailor Moon needs to protect the world from bad guys. Bad guys make this difficult.

These driving motivations are simple by design. Functionally speaking, the core plot is just a momentum vector - speed and direction. Where are they going, and how fast are they getting there? It exists to propel the heroes forward when they won't propel themselves, enabling all the actual interesting stuff in their stories. Concepts, characters, worldbuilding and individual cool scenes are what populate the rest of the story - the core driving impetus is just what's needed to push the protagonists through all the fun stuff you build for them. There's a reason so many stories just put a Big Bad at the end of all the other fun stuff and say "he burned down your village and killed your stern but fair father figure! GET 'IM!" It's basic, but it's really all you need. Gosh, what an evil villain! It'd be a shame if stopping him required you to take a tour of all the most interesting settings in this shiny new world I made for you-

The number one problem I've run into when formulating core plotlines is making them too complicated. The complications exist tangential to or intersecting with the core plot. They're the fun bits of worldbuilding and character moments. The core plot is just what gets your heroes there. The detective has sizzling chemistry with the femme fatale because of the murder he's trying to solve. The hero accumulates a colorful band of misfits with the power of friendship because of the evil overlord they're trying to stop. When you're laying down tracks for a railroad, you don't put in loop-de-loops - providing excitement is the job of the scenery and the stops. The tracks just need to get you there.

If you're stumped for the core but you've got everything else, go as basic as you can. Solving a crime. Rescuing a friend. Stopping a bad guy. Traveling from point A to point B. Finding an object. Then ask what events and chatacters this core journey can carry your protagonists through, and that's where all the interesting bits happen.

[garden-bug]

Let's fix Star Wars!!

(I said at the start of the summer and wrote nearly 100k.) (It needed a lot of fixing ok.)

Here is a fix-it fanfic but it's for three series and the entire sequel trilogy. I will be posting about this more because I am determined to finish it soon (and then redraft it wooo!).

Description:

Somehow, Darth Maul returns. (As a force ghost.) (Somewhere Ahsoka thinks is probably the living Force.)

This changes everything.

In other words: The Mandalorian S3 but make it Din/Luke; the Ahsoka series but make it EZRA AND THRAWN SPACE ADVENTURES; and ‘somehow Palpatine returns’ is ripped to shreds because I connect plot points and add new characters.

Chapter excerpts below!

Chapter 1 excerpt:

“Not as far as I remember. Oh, wait! I wanted to rule the galaxy… shame.” He rolls his shoulders again. “Can’t do much about that now. Being dead is quite demotivating.” “I’m sorry for your lack of motivation.” “Don’t make fun, Lady Tano. Have sympathy for this poor, dead, ex-Sith.” “I guess 'dead' is your only personality trait now.” “You preferred me before?” Ahsoka grimaces. She can’t argue with that. “No, sorry." “I will be honest,” Maul says, “I haven’t felt this peaceful since before I lost the lower half of my body.” Ahsoka fixes him with a reproving look. "You were Palpatine's apprentice then." “Yes.” Maul sighs wistfully, chin sinking into his hand. Ahsoka rubs her eyes. Maul has already given her a headache and they've only been talking for a minute. There is still nothing but darkness and flickering light, and Maul’s steady, yellow eyes. “Do you know where you are?” Ahsoka asks. “Why should I help you figure this out? You didn’t help me once. Also, in case I haven’t made it abundantly clear, I’m dead, so I don’t care what happens to you or anyone else who is still alive. Some of us aren’t so lucky, you know?” "If we figure this out, maybe I'll get peace. I really don't want you as a voice in my head." Maul grimaces. “B’ahor,” he mutters. “In the Al'har system?” "There is a dark power on that planet… I sense evil, but also… something else." His eyes burn. "Perhaps you will go there and die. That would solve this problem quickly."

Chapter 2 excerpt:

“What was that?” Mayan asks as they hurry towards the mountain. “That feeling… the…” “The Force,” says Ahsoka. “The Force exists all around us. It is created by all living things, it moves through them, and it binds the whole galaxy together.” “How do you know about it?” “I was trained as a Jedi.” Ahsoka is surprised when her face remains impassive. There is no flicker of recognition, no spark of awe in her eyes. She just nods. “In my village, people like that are called world breakers.” “There are more of you?” “There were.” Mayan looks away. “The legends say that world breakers can take a planet in their hand and shatter it.” “That's... impossible,” Ahsoka says. She wonders why she had never considered that remote planets may have different legends about the Force. “According to the stories, we are children of the Great Universe. If we follow its will, it will guide us... That's how it used to be.” Ahsoka means to ask if there is more to these legends, but Mayan comes to a halt suddenly and points to the rock face in front of them. “This is where the curse is,” says the girl. “Yes.” Ahsoka can sense it too. This is where the Force has been leading them. It reeks of Sith and of evil. Something terrible must have happened here.

Chapter 4 excerpt:

Fleeing vehicles kick up a cloud of dust, and Luke jumps up onto the roof of the adjacent building, crouching close in preparation to drop down. Sweat licks the back of his neck. For a stupid moment he thinks how this is the complete wrong time of day to be out, when both suns are high in the sky. Then he leaps. There isn’t even time to be annoyed as the roller-wheeler careers around the corner. “Peli, I told you to keep him inside!” “He wanted to see his dad!” Peli screams. Luke sends Grogu a withering look. The little guy sticks his tongue out from where he is held securely in the Mandalorian’s arms. “I am so sorry,” says the Mandalorian. Luke doesn’t even know where to start. “It’s alright, can you hang on to him?” The roller-wheeler jolts suddenly, and Grogu squeals in what’s probably excitement. “Yeah, but you can’t get through their shield with your lightsaber. I tried with mine.” “Ok.” Luke tugs the vehicle slightly to adjust its course. “We’re gonna have to talk about why you have a lightsaber later.” He senses annoyance from the helmet. “Did you kill a Jedi?” “Won it from Moff Gideon.” “You defeated Moff Gideon?” “Watch it.” The Mandalorian blasts a Pyke who was aiming for Luke from the top of a building. “Good shot.” The Mandalorian nods. Next thing they know, a Pyke has taken out the droid, and Luke somersaults off the roller-wheeler before it flips. He plants his feet in the ground and catches the vehicles momentum that everyone lands relatively unscathed. The Mandalorian caught Grogu immediately, so Luke draws them towards him, until his hand meets bescar. “Nice catch,” says the Mandalorian. Luke grins. “Is Grogu ok?” Grogu pops up over the Mandalorian’s shoulder. He’s a little shaken, but a smile breaks across his face when he sees Luke. Peli spits out a tooth from where she’s lying.

Chapter 5 excerpt:

“We’re even,” Boba decides. He makes a hand gesture for the blue liquor, which Fennec tosses to him with a roll of her eyes. Boba places his helmet beside him on the seat and takes a swing, acid-scarred face regarding him cooly. Luke bows respectfully. “Thanks a bunch.” Boba waves an arm dismissively. “Go see the little green guy.” He turns to leave, but Boba isn’t done. He comments, offhandedly, “I thought you would’ve gotten a few more scars since the last time I saw you.” Luke turns, puzzled. “Why?” “Haven’t you been Jedi-ing?” “Jedi-ing...” “Saving the galaxy.” “We... I did that.” “What about Tatooine?” Luke’s smile falters. “Tch. ∂ι’кυтℓα נєтιιѕє.” “What's that s'posed to mean?” “It means I don’t like you.” “He called the Jedi useless,” says Ahsoka. Luke meets her eyes, trying to stifle the burn in his skin. Ahsoka clears her throat. “We’ve been gone a long time.” “That’s why I want to rebuild what was lost.” Ahsoka looks at him for a long moment. “I know.”

Chapter 6 excerpt:

“σяιтѕιя!” Koska yells. “Bo-Katan Kryze!” Bo-Katan’s eyes widen, she drops her gaze and breathes softly. “Stop yelling.” “You… you…” Koska clenches her fists. “иιвяαℓ! αяυєт!” She kicks the metal desk, exclaiming incoherencies. Bo-Katan shakes her head. “What do you want me to do?” She sits back, hands out. “I don’t have any way to unite our people, and Mandalore is inhabited by a clan of psychos.” Koska’s lip trembles, but she bites it down. “We were going to follow you. We were going to get our home back,” her voice cracks. “Don’t tell me it’s all over now. After everything we’ve been through to get here.” “Mandalore, and my legacy, is dead,” Bo-Katan seethes. “Even with the darksaber, would we be able to subdue, or, live alongside that… Clan куяαу¢, knowing what they did to Mandalore?” “Just get the darksaber from him!” Koska says. “If you get it our clan will stop kriffing falling apart and we can take them down.” Bo-Katan slumps into her hand. “This is why we fell apart in the first place. We fought each other instead of the Empire. It’s not a path I am willing to go down.” “The others are,” Koska states. Bo-Katan looks up. “And they will,” Koska continues, eyes hard. “That’s why you need to decide what to do now before they decide for you, and we end up going down a path of self-destruction. While they’ll still listen to you, choose.”

Chapter 8 excerpt:

Ahsoka clenches her jaw. “Maul,” she grits out, “what did you do?” “Em, an… indoctrination ceremony? It was mostly just for fun,” he assures her. “Ezra thought it would be fun.” “You indoctrinated him into your clan?” “That’s…” Maul blinks. “Yes. He could be considered a son of Dathomir.” “And that’s why the night sister magic took him to Dathomir.” Ahsoka groans. “Well, this was a complete waste of time! Now I have to deal with Thrawn and get out of here somehow.” Maul nods, as though that had been his plan all along. “How long has it been since they returned from the unknown regions?” he asks. “I don’t know.” “Find out,” insists Maul. “Spending too long on Dathomir with the spirits of the night sisters… would not be advisable.” Ahsoka narrows her eyes. “How so?” “They will attempt to resurrect, using whatever means they can get their hands on. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sacrifice his mortal body to gain strength to cross back over into the physical world.” “Are they immortal?” “They are… like Force ghosts that can absorb energy. With enough energy, they can reconstruct themselves, piece by piece, until all they are lacking is a physical body. They will need many sacrifices to resurrect fully.” “Hold on… could you resurrect?” “I would prefer not to,” Maul says simply. Ahsoka’s eyes widen. “Okay… why?” “Haven’t you asked enough personal questions?” he snaps. “Leave. I’m busy trying to wallow in misery.” “Sure, okay.” Ahsoka shrugs. “But if you want to talk about it—” “I said go,” Maul hisses.

Chapter 9 excerpt:

The smaller tunnel winds further down, deeper into the centre of the planet. There’s the slightest movement in the air, vibration, and Luke recognises the energy of life forces and stops walking suddenly. “There are… people down here,” he says. Din casts him a dubious helmet tilt, and they continue until it is unmistakable. Voices echo through the tunnels, many, it seems, perhaps a covert worth. “Do you wanna go say hello?” Luke asks. “Perhaps they can help us find the living waters.” The tunnel breaks off into several other small passageways. This close, Luke can pick out the soft glow of light, and he gestures for Din to switch his torch off. When he does, they are plunged into darkness, but gradually, Luke’s eyes adjust to the light, and he leads Din by the arm towards the light and the voices. The voices hush suddenly. Luke pauses, he wonders if they should stop, go back, maybe confront these people somewhere they have more of an advantage. But Din steps past him, leaving Grogu in Luke’s arms. “тισи’¢υу?” “иι αℓιιт мαи∂σ.” “иυ тισи’αℓιιт ѕσℓυѕ?” “иαу¢… αѕн’α∂.” “к’σℓαя.” Din steps into the room. Luke follows after him. Inside the large cave, is a group of Mandalorians. One of them stands abruptly, blaster raised. “тισи’ѕσℓєт?” he barks. “єни,” Din responds. “тισи’ναιι?” Din reaches for Grogu, and takes him into his arms. “иєя ιк’αα∂. иι куя'тαуℓ gαι ѕα’α∂,” he says. The Mandalorian stares at them for a moment, then sighs raggedly, and sinks back onto the rock. The others in his group relax, but keep their eyes fixed on the newcomers. Their armour is in a state of disrepair, some of it clearly salvaged from the ruins. Some wear their helmets while others do not. The faces that Luke can see are pale and gaunt, as though they haven’t seen the sunlight in a long time and their torn clothes hang off their body in a way that makes Luke think of skeletons. “Do you speak basic?” Din asks. “We haven’t,” the Mandalorian says harshly, “since a long time.” His eyes are dark, hooded, his hair matted and entirely grey. “We are looking for the living waters,” Din explains. “Do you know how to get there?”

Chapter 10 excerpt:

Mayan has gotten better at interpreting binary speech, but she’s not quite there yet. It takes her a moment to figure out what the little beeps mean as she stuffs some out-of-date rations into a makeshift pack. “Um… we’re going to rescue Ahsoka.” R2 spins excitedly. Then he stops and says, “…. --- .--?" “I don’t know how.” Mayan ties her boots. “By now, the blue man will think we’ve gone, so we can surprise him, right?” R2 whistles uncertainly. “Well… there’s no other choice.” Mayan grips the lightsaber in her hand. “You said Luke can’t come… so…” R2 bumps into her as she walks towards the ladder. “Ow, that was my toe.” Mayan groans. “What is it?” “-.. .- -. --. . .-. --- ..- …!” “I know it’s dangerous. You didn’t want Luke to come because he’s an important Jedi, right?” Mayan squeezes past him. “If the blue man finds him it’d be bad, so it’s better if I rescue her.” R2 whistles a sad note again. Mayan clambers up the ladder one-armed, her other arm tucked into a sling under her cloak. It’s completely useless. She doesn’t know how bad the break was, but since it happened, the skin has gone from red to purple — the edges faintly green. If she tries to use it, a sharp pain stabs through her. The town is quiet this early — even the fruit vendors haven’t opened their stalls yet. Mayan sneaks around the side of the blown-up house, pulling her cloak over her feathered hair. She gestures for R2 to follow. She thinks if she can get to the mountain again, she can… well, she doesn’t really know. Mayan has always been good at getting out of dangerous situations, not getting into them. Maybe R2 can come up with a plan. “This is hopeless,” Mayan decides. They sit within viewing distance of the tall mountain base, hidden in a valley of rocks. “--. --- ……. -… .- -.-. -.-?” R2 suggests. Mayan rubs the wrinkly skin of her fingers. “I don’t want to give up, but I don’t know how to get in, or where she is. I’ve never even seen a prison before.” She pulls her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know why Ahsoka even believes in me at all.” “… -.- -.-- ……. .. … ……. .- -- .- --.. .. -. —.!” Mayan smiles a little. 'Sky is amazing,' R2 said. It’s nice that he gave her a nickname after she said she wanted one like Ahsoka had as a padawan.

Chapter 11 excerpt:

Their arrival must have caused a minor uproar. A dozen Mandalorians watch from every hallway Luke glances down. They are all blue, presumably Bo-Katan’s people, and they don’t seem happy. They are brought into a large hall, where spear-shaped windows bite into the ceiling, and white crystal casts a steady light over the room. A long carpet leads to a throne that resembles a hardened splash of lava, and on it, sits Bo-Katan. She’s really got the throne thing down, maybe even as much as Boba Fett. Luke would not mess with either of them unless absolutely necessary purely based on their throne demeanour. “What the kirff are you doing,” Bo-Katan says. She doesn’t yell, just sounds exasperated, maybe even exhausted. “I’m taking you up on the offer to join you.” Bo-Katan looks at him. Her amber eyes narrow, and she gets up, and makes her way towards them. “You’re too late now,” she says. Her expression touches on cold rage. “I’m barely holding this together as it is. With the arrival of your covert, things have only gotten worse.” “Mandalore is habitable,” Din says. “There are other Mandalorians already living there.” “The clans on Mandalore are belligerent and mad,” Bo-Katan snaps. “And the Empire has eyes on the planet. With the numbers we have, staging anything with only attract attention and get us all killed.”

Chapter 12 excerpt:

“You have redeemed yourself?” asks the Armourer. “I have,” says Din. The intense blue of the forge reflects off both of their helmets and the heat dusts Luke’s cheeks with warmth. “And you have acquired another foundling…” The Armourer’s tone shifts to something decidedly less serious and more akin to amusement. “What is the name of this child?” “Kymir,” Din says. “Kymir, do you wish to join our covert?” the Armourer asks the boy. Kymir looks from Din to the Armourer, brows furrowing. “He doesn’t speak basic,” Din says. “Kymir, тιαи’¢σρααиιя тσ αℓιιт?” he translates. Kymir bites his lip. “иαу¢,” he says. Luke infers that his answer is no. Din looks at the Armourer. “He has had a bad experience with his covert. He will not trust easily.” “Without a covert, he will have no protection.” “I will watch over him.” “At this time, you are also in need of protection,” says the Armourer, lightly. “You were almost killed this morning.”

Chapter 13 excerpt:

“Ahsoka? Ahsoka!” Mayan shakes Ahsoka’s shoulders, but her master doesn’t stir. She holds her face and tries to somehow will her awake with the force, but nothing seems to work. Her eyes remain closed, eyelids twitching minutely every few seconds. “Is she alright?” Leia asks, crouching by the broken tree Ahsoka rests against. “I think so… she goes into deep sleeps sometimes. I don’t really know what…” Mayan hugs her arms. “Um, is the Falcon okay?” “Ships fine,” Han says, an edge of annoyance in his tone, as he walks over to them. “But Ahsoka better wake up soon so I can ask her what in the hell just happened.” “We went through a portal,” Mayan says. Han squints. “How d’you know that?” “I’m a Jedi padawan…” Han throws his hands in the air. “Not another one! Come on, Chewy,” he says, “let’s go help Sabine get the engine started like normal people. Damn Jedi…force portals…” he mutters. R2 beeps in a pattern that Mayan recognises as a laugh as Han stalks off. “I hope Ahsoka wakes up soon…” Mayan says, mostly to herself, though Leia is still beside her. “Yes, well,” Leia starts, “we need to get back home. This was meant to be a drop-off, not another adventure.”

Chapter 16 excerpt:

“Come with me to Mandalore,” Din says. “But I don’t think I’m supposed to do that.” “Do you want to?” “Yes.” Luke glances at him from over his shoulder. “But I can’t,” he says. “I’m a Jedi, I have to follow the will of the force.” Din is silent for a long time, and Luke wonders if the conversation is over. But finally, he speaks. “I understand.” Luke huffs dubiously. “Really?” “Yes,” Din says. “I know what it’s like to be told that something that feels right is somehow wrong.” Luke’s stomach twists. Nothing feels right. Nothing. He let the force guide him here and now the force is telling him it’s time to leave. What if Din and Grogu still need him? He’s almost certain they do. But the galaxy needs him too. Perhaps his responsibilities lie elsewhere, maybe he got caught up in his emotions and mistook this for being the right thing. The problem is, Luke doesn’t know. The uncertainty makes him afraid. (Jedi should not be afraid.) He remembers his vision in the mythosaur lair and his throat tightens until he can barely speak. (Fear clouds one’s judgement.) “I can’t choose you,” Luke whispers, and a laugh catches in his through. “I can never choose you. Can you really tell me you understand that?” Din brings a hand up to his helmet. “I don’t know.” Luke stands up and catches his wrist. “Don’t,” he says. “I can’t let you give up your creed for me when I wouldn’t do the same for you.” Din’s hand falls. Luke stares into the dark visor, feeling further from his eyes than ever. The words of Obi-Wan’s Force-ghost echo in his head. “Had she said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order to be by her side.” “I’m sorry,” Luke says and lets go of his wrist. He steps back, gaze falling to the floor. If he wasn’t among the last Jedi… if the fate of the galaxy didn’t rest on his shoulders… But the Jedi are gone. Palpatine and Vader made sure of that. And now Luke has to spend his life paying for his father’s mistakes.

Chapter 18 excerpt:

“Leia, I don’t like this.” Luke tries not to squirm in his seat. If he had no appetite for the fancy Coruscant food before he certainly doesn’t now. “A Moff, after a force-sensitive child, working with a cloner? What the kriff were they doing?” “He might just have been after him because he was force sensitive and you know how the Empire felt about the Jedi.” “I wish I’d asked Din about this! I’m such an idiot.” “Who’s Din?” “Never mind. Okay, I’ve got to find out what Pershing was doing for Moff Gideon. I have a seriously bad feeling —” “Okay,” Leia says. “I trust your judgement. Are you finished? Let’s go speak to them.” Luke’s stomach swoops. “What?” “Sorry, farm-boy. Sneaking around isn’t how we learn things on Coruscant. You’ve got to play the game.” “What game?” “Politics, Luke.” “Oh great.”

Chapter 19 excerpt

“Good. I’m going down. Kymir and I can reach them fastest. Once we know where the creature lives we can go with a small group and rescue Ragnar.” Bo-Katan narrows her eyes, searching his visor for something to reassure herself. Din’s stomach drops when he realises that she’s desperately searching for his eyes. He touches her shoulder instead. “Keep them together,” he says, nodding in the direction of the others who are still reeling from the shock of the attack, some badly wounded. Bo-Katan sighs. “That’s what I’ve been doing for years, Din.” She shakes her head. “Let me wrap your arm. Take some more painkillers or you won’t be able to think when you’re down there. You might still lose the arm the way it is now.” Din stares at her. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “Okay?” Bo-Katan squints, winding the bandage around his arm which is thoroughly smothered in bacta. “I think you mean fuck.” “Fuck,” Din says. “It’s fine. I still have another arm.”

“∂ιи ∂נαяιи נσя иєя’вυιя נιι.” Din Djarin is… my… Din grabs a wall to steady himself. The words bounce around his helmet and his ears ache. He shuts his eyes, tries to focus on the words through the pain. They’re the important thing. “σяι’νσ∂ вυяк’у¢. ναιι’уαιм ∂яαgσи?” My friend is in danger. Where is the dragon’s home? “куяαмℓα.” He’s dead. “иυ ∂яααя!” Not never! “кумιя, уαιм’σℓ.” Kymir, come home. Din steps out to stand beside him. He tries to stand straight. He pulls out the darksaber with his good hand. “gαα’тαуℓιя,” he says, and ignites the blade. Help me. For a moment, nobody moves. Then, somebody asks, “ιвι¢… иι ¢єтα?” Will this… redeem us? Din looks at Kymir. Understanding wells in his eyes. "Do you forgive them?" “иααѕα∂ мι’ѕυя’нααι,” says Kymir. Not in my eyes. Din nods. Good. “мєн’gαα’тαуℓιя, нιвιяαя gαя иι ¢єтα.” If you help us, you may learn to forgive yourselves.

Grogu frowns in concentration. He peers out of the window, ignoring the computer completely, but his hand shifts on the stick and suddenly his eyes widen and he presses the button down. It hits the dragon and the creature screeches in agony, twisting up into the sky to escape from the onslaught. “Mu?” Grogu turns to Din. “Uh, lucky shot,” Din says. “I wouldn’t shoot without aiming first, kid. Wait, actually… can you use your Jedi stuff to aim? Is that what you’re doing?” Okay. What would Luke say? Something like… “In that case, just focus, and… listen to the — is it called the Force? Yeah, listen to the Force.” Grogu snorts. “What? Wouldn’t I make a good Jedi?” Din smiles, but Grogu can’t see it.

The guns bombard the remaining dragons with enough firepower to essentially obliterate them, and litter their scaly corpses across the ground. Boba-Fett lands his ship with a whoosh of hot air. Din stares as he lowers the landing ramp and marches towards him, Fennec following closely. “Thought you could use a hand,” says the gruff voice. Din tries to speak but his legs decide to give out. “Woah, there.” Boba keeps him upright with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you inside, Manda’lor,” he says. “Someone oughta throw you in a bacta tank,” says Fennec. “We don’t have a bacta tank.” Bo-Katan scowls from the cave entrance. “What are you doing here, Fett?” “I heard there was a get-together on Mandalore. Someone must’ve missed my invitation.”

Chapter 20 excerpt:

The magic tethering her to Dathomir tugs sharply on her wrist as she falls again into the familiar darkness. And then stops. Ahsoka can hear her breaths this time, sharp and cutting, and she scrambles to her feet, searching for — “You…” “Get away from him,” Ahsoka snarls. Leia’s lightsaber ignites with a burst of blue. Palpatine, or whatever’s left of him, has found them. His dark cloak drowns his physical form, making him almost impossible to discern from the flickering darkness, if it wasn’t for the ghastly, misshapen white of his face. Yellow eyes melt through the darkness, and grey lips stretch in a triumphant gleam. “He is of no more importance,” Palpatine snarls. Maul’s body twitches in the air, hands grasping desperately at his throat. “Let him go,” Ahsoka says. “S-sever our dyad,” Maul gasps. “Don’t let… don’t let him…” Ahsoka rips her arm free of the green string. “No!” Maul cries. Now there is no going back. “I will not leave you with him.”

“Grand Admiral, Sir, permission to speak freely?” “Permission granted, commodore Faro. You know I always value your input.” “Well, Sir, we’re kriffed.”

Chapter 25 excerpt:

“Thrawn,” Eli starts, looking into his red eyes, “y’know I—” The security feed beeps. Eli’s eyes widen when he sees Ezra waving up at the camera from the supply room. Eli clicks the comms. “Um, Ezra, wha’d’ya think you’re doing there? Actually, how’d you even get on board?” “Space portals!” “Right. I see.” Eli rubs his forehead. This is going to be a long day. “You need anythin’?” “You won’t believe what happened down there,” Ezra practically yells. “Anyway, I need the key now because we’re locking Dathomir so this doesn’t ever happen again, then we’re all jumping through a space portal to you guys. Is that alright?” “Sure. See ya in a bit.” “Excellent,” says Thrawn. He turns to Eli. “What were you going to say?” Eli sighs. “Moment’s gone. Alright, let’s get this data ready for Ezra-kid to look at.”

[fefeman]

One of the most potent spells Papa Smurf did, if I'm up to date, is when he duplicated the village with an evil clone of each smurf, him included. The spell also duplicated magic books, ingredients, everything: he had enough in the duplicated laboratory to create a counterspell, even after Evil!Papa Smurf burned the original laboratory down.

This spell alone means Papa Smurf can :

Create an infinity of magical reagents (the least powerful take on the feat just means he converts material into other stuff, otherwise he can also break the laws of physics)

Create sapient, fully functional life with free will, and tailor their behavior as he see fit (but not after the spell is cast)

Expand the village or possibly any structure at his whim.

and all that for a spell he made in less than a day, and clearly not at the maximum power output he could (he made 101 sapient beings because there are 101 smurf, but he could make more, or not make clone and just duplicate ingredients, etc...). If he decided to take over the world, he could raise an army of ferocious smurf and create strongholds everywhere, the only weakness being a specific counterspell he knows off and would immediately try to block access to.

Papa Smurf is a Witch King that just prefer to use mundane solution and teamwork to solve problems.

[stupendouspeanutstarlight]

Undiscovered Future Pt. 10

Sorry for anyone who was previously waiting on this, but I took a long hiatus from Tumblr. If any who have read my story are back, hello! To any new readers who are in this far, welcome!

___________________________________________________________

Arriving on the distinct uninhabited island was an easy task. It was relatively large, and the wildlife could be heard within the dense jungle. The chirping of birds caused their ears to twitch to attention. This foreign territory made Savanna’s tail sway anxiously; ears shooting in the direction as a new sound was made. No matter what period of life she had been in, Savanna had always had a large group of Na’vi, or RDA operatives close by. The idea of this solitude for a week was unnerving, but she wasn’t completely alone. Looking over to where Aonung untied their limited supplies from Daisy, she realised the weight of being here with him. Aonung had returned and chosen to ignore her just days before. She could see the scowls he would scorn her family with, the cruel laughter that came from his lips and the contempt in his heart. Underneath the jabs and cruelty though, Savanna had seen glimpses of the Aonung who asked about her home, made friendly wagers with her, and who let her lean on his chest as they glided over the ocean. Sighing, she walked across the sand and began to assist Aonung silently unload. 

A small Hunting hut had been installed on the island years ago, but it was quite small and was wearing down in many areas. It very closely resembled the pods back in the village, but was sized down significantly. Savanna guessed this island wasn’t used for much more than the occasional small hunting trip. It was safe to assume due to it just being her and Aonung, Tonowari had sent them to a spot where the wildlife wasn’t regularly hunted, so they’ll be more docile. Aonung and Savanna organised the few water pouches and food they had brought. The hut was comfortable, but quite dusty; the hut had not been touched for many years, allowing for the weapons in the corner to become dull. This hut had clearly seen generations of young Na’vi warriors who had come to complete a hunt for the tribe. From where Savanna was perched on the floor she could see Aonung inspecting a rack of weapons. Savanna began to rub at her weary eyes. Looking for a place to sleep, Savanna came to a daunting realisation, “Aonung.” 

Placing the spear in his hand down, Aonung followed her gaze to the corner of blankets used to sleep on. “Well shit.”Both teenagers anxiously looked at the sleeping corner and realised it was the only one in the hut. They were going to have to bunk up together. If she stared long enough, Savanna hoped the hut would double in size and she could escape this nightmare. Aonung looked as if he could burn a hole in the tent with his eyes, “Maybe if we take the weapons outside we can make it two separate spots.” 

Furrowing her eyebrows, Savanna gives Aonung a deadpan look, “We can’t have them get more damaged. We have to sharpen them a shit ton already Aonung.” Pacing the tiny space in circles, Savanna throws her head back in frustration, “I’ll just sleep outside problem solved!” 

“You know that won’t work; it gets extremely cold outside at night, especially being on an island this close to the ocean.” 

“I’ll survive!” Throwing her hand up in exasperation, “I've got no other ideas!”

Getting worked up, Aonung marches over right in front of Savanna, “Just sleep with me! It’s the only way that will work at this rate!” The two of them stood face to face silently for a few seconds, a purple hue travelling across Aonungs face and blooming on the tip of his ears at the possible implications of his words. A smirk began to form on Savanna’s lips at his embarrassment. “Savanna! You know what I meant! Fine. Have it your way, sleep outside.” 

As the sun fully set Savanna closed the hut and layed down to sleep. Aonung was right; it got quite chilly. Goosebumps began to pop up on her skin. She shivered slightly, but remained where she was. Eventually she managed to fall asleep. At one point she thought she heard a rustle, but she chalked it up to her tired mind. 

The next morning Savanna felt warmth radiating on her back and stomach; she adjusted slightly and nestled into the comfortable heat radiating on her. Then she felt the fingers flexing on her back and pulling her close. Suddenly the morning wasn’t as quiet, her mouth went dry and her eyes wide. Acutely aware of the breath as it hit her shoulder, how the curls burned her skin like the sun. She looked around and noticed a distinct lack of sand and general outside. When had she gone inside? Trying to move away from Aonung’s mass was proving to be difficult, everytime she got close to freeing herself he’d adjust and grumble. It was quite cute how his unconscious self sought her out, but she needed to get up. Deciding to give up, Savanna tangled her hands gently in Aonungs hair and pulled his head away from her shoulder, “Wake up pretty boy.” 

Grunting and fluttering his eyes open slightly he scowled at Savanna, “Let me sleep Sav.” His head flopped loosely back down on her shoulder and he began to snore again. 

“No. Get your ass up, sleepy head!” Savanna Began to shift her whole body. She pried his hand off her back and sat up. He was still half draped across her, his torso having shifted to her lap now. 

Perking his head up and opening his eyes, Aonung smiled softly at Savanna, “Sav, why are you up so early?” Sitting up right to face her, he whipped the morning grogginess from his eyes. 

“It’s not even early. You just sleep like a log.” sighing she asked, “how did I get inside anyway.” 

Turning to face away from her Aonung spoke, “You must have wandered in at some point. Like you said I sleep like a log, I don’t know when you got in.”

[ourlittleforever]

Like Real People Do

Rewrote me and Arvad's first kiss in preparation for our 5th anniversary on the 18th. ♡

Words: 2341

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, very brief mention of alcohol

Jhoira, captain of the Weatherlight, had a problem.

Lucky for her, she had been around 1500 years, and was decently good at solving most problems. However, this particular situation was one she had never truly experienced: playing matchmaker for two members of her crew. And she was in a time crunch.

Jhoira had planned to retire from her position as captain soon, and hand the reins off to Shanna. But as she watched Arvad and Millie quietly chatting by the rail, refusing to admit their feelings for one another, she knew she had to see them together before she left.

The light flutter of Tiana’s wings made Jhoira turn slightly. “Plotting, are you?”

“When aren’t I?” Jhoira laughed. “How close are we to Meadowlark, Tiana?”

“We’ll be landing soon,” Shanna said as she joined the duo. “Reports of the Cabal have ramped up recently.” She handed Jhoira a bundle of letters. “Your owl dropped these off. Sorry for poking in your mail, but…”

Millie and Arvad glanced up from their conversation as the other crew members approached. 

One piece of paper had written on it, in bold red letters, URGENT! WEATHERLIGHT CREW! READ NOW! “I understand,” the captain replied. She set off down the stairs, the two women following her. Raff, who was reading in a hammock, nearly fell out trying to join the rest of the crew. 

“Here’s the plan,” Jhoira said. “We’ll meet with the village council of Meadowlark, then split up to investigate. Tiana and I will check out the North side; Shanna and Raff, you two will scout the outskirts of the farmlands. Millie and Arvad, you two will investigate the graveyards.” 

The cleric nodded. “Of course.”

Shanna piped in. “There were reports of Cabalists raising the dead for their own purposes. Maybe your glyphs could help keep the dead in their graves, Millie.”

“I’ll watch your back.” Arvad bumped his arm against Millie’s, and they smiled gently. 

“Of course you will.”

Gag me, Jhoira thought fondly. “We’re about to land. Ready yourselves.”

—

Millie sighed, brushing a vine from the headstone. They frowned; this grave had clearly been defiled sometime recently, judging by the loose, fresh dirt and scratches on the marble. “The Cabal was definitely here.” They stood, taking out their notebook and jotting down the name on the headstone. “We’ll need to find these bodies before I can seal the graves.” Millie shoved the notebook back into their bag haphazardly. “Luckily, I know just the spell…”

They knelt, drawing a small glyph in the dirt. Millie closed their eyes, steeling themself, focusing on the magic within and around them. “By the light of Angelfire… reveal the lost. Guide them to me.” They tapped the glyph, and it began to glow green-red. A small fire lit in the drawing. 

Arvad extended his hand, and Millie took it as they stood back up. “I’ll always be amazed at how you do that,” he said. 

Millie smiled. “Thanks.” It was a mix between Serran and witch magic; they had developed the warding techniques after discovering a dead Cabal witch’s manuscript. The combination of dark magic and Serran wards proved to be powerful, and Millie had spent much of their time before joining the crew placing glyphs on graves, allowing the dead to continue resting. “Now, we wait.”

Arvad tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he listened closely. After a minute, he nodded. “There’s noise in the brush. Not an animal.”

“Get back here!” someone shouted, and Millie heard the signature sound of a necromancy spell. It was like razors tearing through the air, and they winced. 

Millie braced themself before drawing a glyph in the air and setting it alight. It burned with the holy flame of Angelfire and Akroma, a shield and a sword in one. Any grimnant who strayed too close would be burned to a crisp. 

A zombie burst through the bushes, compelled to seek out Millie’s calling glyph. A grimnant followed, shouting more spells before spotting Millie and Arvad. “You!’ he snarled, throwing a spell toward them. Arvad raised his blade, and the spell’s physical components withered and disappeared on the steel.

Arvad charged forward, slicing at another grimant’s raised arm. Blood spurted from the wound, and Millie noticed Arvad’s brows furrow. He growled and swung at the grimnant once more, but the Cabalist staggered back just out of reach. 

A dementia caster flung a nightmare at Millie, but their magic shield blocked the spell. Millie drew on Angelfire’s eternal blaze and cast a radiant flame. The caster’s hair caught fire and she wailed in pain. Millie pressed their advantage, calling on the vines beneath her feet, trapping the caster in place. 

The caster broke free of the vines and staggered out of sight. “Fall back!” she screamed – to no one, she quickly realized, as her fellow Cabalists had already fled. The dementia caster bolted into the woods, with Millie’s radiant spell just missing her.

One of the zombies the Cabal had raised reached the initial glyph Millie had created and stopped, the cult’s hold on it finally subsiding. The corpse fell to the ground, and Millie dodged. Another zombie stumbled closer. Should have made them return directly to their graves, Millie thought, knowing they’d have to rebury the dead themself. They made a mental note to edit their glyph. 

Millie huffed, wiping their brow, then prepared to pursue. They glanced to their right, where Arvad –

Wasn’t. 

Millie frowned, adjusting their corset. The corpses at their feet lay in a pile, and they had neglected to bring their shovel along to rebury the dead. Millie would have to return to town. 

—

Jhoira leaned against the door of the tavern, her arms crossed as she gave the townsfolk a report of the day’s discoveries. “Shanna and Raff killed a few of the grimnants out by the Mosscave Farm. Tiana and I found their abandoned camp and took care of it.” She smiled at the sight of Millie walking in, but her expression turned to confusion when she realized her security chief wasn’t there. “Millie! I – what happened? Where’s Arvad?”

“I don’t know,” the cleric admitted. “We found some grimnants controlling some of the dead. I managed to break the cultists’ hold on the dead, but Arvad… I think he chased the grimnants down when they tried to escape.” Millie sighed. “Jhoira, let’s step outside. I think–”

“Help!” a young soldier shouted, stumbling into the tavern, shoving past Millie and Jhoira. “There’s a vampire! And he’s eating someone! That filthy monster–”

The captain gave them a knowing look. Millie’s face flushed slightly, but they knew they’d have to stand their ground. Arvad wouldn’t be in the best state, and Millie was sure he didn’t want anyone else seeing him like that. 

“Stop,” Millie snapped, whirling on the man. “Arvad’s not a monster. He’s my… he’s our crewmate.” They took a deep breath, then looked at the rest of the crew. “If you don’t mind, Jhoira… I’ll deal with this. He needs my help.”

Jhoira nodded. “There’s no one better for the job.”

One of the townspeople inside the tavern spoke up. “Once you’re back, we were planning on having a small celebration, to thank you for your help.” He must be the mayor. “If you do come back,” he said, eyes narrowing at Millie.

“You say that now.” The mayor crossed his arms. “But if you don’t return, that vampire is as good as dead.”

“I will,” they replied sharply. “Arvad would never hurt me.”

Millie nodded their thanks to their friends, and looked to the young soldier. “Take me to him.”

“Over our dead bodies,” Shanna snapped, stepping between Millie and the mayor. Tiana and Raff also put themselves between the cleric and the townsfolk. “Go ahead, Millie. We’ve got it under control here.”

—

The soldiers were whispering among themselves as Millie approached. “What kind of beast…?”

“Look at him. Disgusting…”

“Why can’t we kill him again?”

Fury burned in Millie’s heart at the comments. They shoved past the soldiers, stopping at the edge of the clearing. They couldn’t possibly understand; Arvad had been starving himself to the brink of death, all in the name of never harming an innocent person. He hadn’t eaten in half a year: not even the blood of a cultist. Of course he was going to go overboard…

Arvad was hunched over the corpse of a Cabal grimnant. Several other bodies lay strewn around him, all presumably drained of blood. Millie’s heart broke for him; they knew he’d be devastated by the carnage once he came to. The cleric took a deep breath before stepping into the grass.

“Miss, I wouldn’t–” another soldier shouted, but a quick, sharp glance from Millie silenced him. 

The dead grass and twigs crunched under their boots as Millie approached. They could sense the soldiers tensing behind them. But Millie wasn’t afraid, not of Arvad, not ever.

As the cleric stopped before him, Arvad snarled into the grimnant’s throat before dropping the corpse. His face was twisted in pain as the body fell to the ground. Millie’s skirt shifted in the wind, catching his attention. Arvad gasped softly as they knelt before him.

A few of the soldiers loudly unsheathed their weapons. Millie knew their fear was unfounded. 

“I…” Arvad stared at the grimnant. “How long… what happened?” As the fog of bloodlust receded, horror dawned on his face. “Oh, Serra, help me…” He locked eyes with Millie and swallowed hard. “I – Millie, I’m – I’m sorry –”

“Hey,” they said softly, raising their handkerchief to his bloodied cheek. “It’s okay.”

As soon as they touched him, Arvad’s shoulders relaxed. He leaned into their palm, closing his eyes and taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking their free hand in his. “For everything.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, and back to town,” Millie murmured, wiping the rapidly drying blood from his face. “They’re having a party for us. Wouldn’t want to miss it, eh?”

The vampire chuckled ruefully. “If they let me in.”

“You’re with me. I’ll make sure you can get in.” Millie stood and offered their hand to Arvad. 

“How about–” How about you take it now? Millie thought. Instead, they forced a serene expression. “Um. Let’s go. I have some bodies to bury, but then we can head to the celebration…”

“If I take your hand, I’ll drag you down,” he said, standing without their help.

---

When they arrived at the tavern, all eyes were on the duo. Arvad refused to meet anyone’s gaze out of embarrassment, so Millie did the talking. “He’s fine, I’m fine. It’s fine.” Arvad mumbled a quiet thank you as the cleric fielded question after question and steered townspeople away from asking anything related to drinking blood. 

The party was boisterous; Jhoira, naturally, was at the center of it all, eagerly chugging glasses of Benalish ale. Shanna was telling a story about Sisay, while Raff tried a swig of alcohol and tried to act like he enjoyed the taste. Tiana tinkered with a clock as the tavern’s owner explained every issue it had to her.

Arvad leaned down to whisper in Millie’s ear. “I think I need to get some fresh air. Would you like to come with me?”

“I’d like that,” they replied. 

They followed him out of the tavern and into the cool night. Stars twinkled above, and the moon hung low in the sky. The dark sky had always made Millie feel most comfortable; they did their best work at night.

"Thank you for stepping outside with me," Arvad said, pulling them from their thoughts. Millie hopped onto a table, and Arvad leaned against the edge beside them. A light breeze lifted Millie's hair, and they tucked a stray strand of hair behind their ear.

Arvad watched them carefully. "Thank you. For earlier." He sighed softly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. It's… embarrassing." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know it doesn't help, but… you don't have to be embarrassed. Around me, at least." Millie turned slightly to face him. His eyes flickered to their lips, and Millie smiled softly. They gingerly reached out and placed a little hand on his chest. "I have never been afraid of you. In fact, I feel safest when you're near."

Arvad's lips curved into the tiniest smile. "You make me feel safe, too."

Millie could hardly take the tension between them anymore. Their heart thundering in their chest, they leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss to his lips.

At first, Arvad stiffened, and Millie felt a surge of fear. Had they misinterpreted his signals? But after a moment, he relaxed, his hands finding their waist.

When the cleric pulled back, Arvad followed, catching their lips once more. He embraced them tight against his chest. Oh, he felt heavenly, solid and strong, better than any daydream – and Millie completely melted into his arms.

Arvad kissed their cheek, then their forehead. He lay his forehead against their own and raised a hand to cup their cheek. "Your lips are so soft," he whispered. "I've wanted to do that… for so long…"

"Me too," Millie murmured as he kissed them again; they couldn't help but smile against his lips, and Arvad chuckled in kind. In moments, the new couple was a giggling mess.

—

Jhoira watched the door open, and Arvad and Millie returned to the party. The knight, gentlemanly as ever, pulled out a chair for the cleric before sitting down himself. Both wore expressions of giddy, youthful love for the other.

Arvad took Millie's hand and leaned in to whisper something, like a teenager in love. The Angelfire cleric squeezed his hand and began to excitedly chatter, Arvad listening intently. Jhoira grinned.

Shanna bumped her shoulder. "Looks like our work is done."

"So weird to see Arvad smiling," Raff commented. "It's good! But weird."

"Agreed," Tiana replied. She turned to Jhoira. "So…"

"Not going to announce my retirement tonight." She shrugged. "Let's let the lovebirds have the night."

[mask131]

Magical summer: Karaba

KARABA

Category: French children media / Fairytales of Western Africa

Michel Ocelot is one of the most famous French movie makers, specialized in animated movies for children. And he mostly got his fame through “Kirikou and the Witch”, an international success made by a Franco-Belgian-Luxemburg collaboration, but which found fame as far as the United-States. It was such a big success that it basically proved to everyone that a French animated movie could be a big thing oversea, and it even got adapted as a musical! Released in 1998, this animated movie was inspired by various folktales of Western Africa, and follows the adventures of the boy of the title, “Kirikou”. Born in a Western African village during a “mythical” time, Kirikou is a VERY unusual boy. He became able to talk when he was still in the belly of his mother, as soon as he was birthed he could walk, he is a very clever and cunning child, but he is also extremely small, small enough to sit in the palm of the hand of adults. As soon as he is born, he discovers that his village is under the terrible rule of a wicked witch named Karaba, and thus starts a conflict between the heroic little boy and the dreadful monster of a woman that is Karaba…

  At the beginning of the story, Kirikou learns of the poor state of his village. The people are poor due to Karaba the witch regularly taking away their riches ; they have barely enough water for everyone because she dried up the village’s spring and so everyone has to take water from a far-away backwater ; and finally, the village doesn’t have any adult men in it anymore because they all tried to fight Karaba, and they all were eaten by her. Beyond an elderly man who acts as the patriarch of the community, there is only one other man, Kirikou’s own uncle, who leaves the village to go to Karaba’s house, in hope of vanquishing her. Kirikou forces his help on his uncle: he hides under the hat of his uncle in order to give him advices during his confrontation. Karaba turns out to be a beautiful but terrible woman who is served by an army of sentient fetish-statues. [Note: While the Internet turned “fetish” into an unpleasant term, originally a “fetish” was a sacred or magical statue of carved wood in African religions and rituals, destined to be inhabited by spirits or gods. Karaba has a very dark interpretation of the fetish-statues, as they are creepy-looking sentient statues acting like robots]. Thanks to Kirikou hiding in the hat and speaking to his uncle, Karaba believes the object is magical and she bargains with the warrior: she promises to leave the village alone in exchange of the “talking hat”. However, Kirikou escapes back with his uncle, and when Karaba discovers she was tricked her wrath is terrible.

As a revenge, she sends her fetish-statues to the village to order that all the women give her the last of their jewels and riches, truly depriving the community of their last precious things. (Karaba is a witch covered in jewels, and who apparently greatly love gold) One woman tries to hide a few jewels… but the statues search every house, and upon finding the hidden jewels, they burn the woman’s house. The fire can’t be put down because the village has no water. Later, Kirikou goes with the children of the village to the far-away backwater, and there Karaba tries to kidnap them twice. First she sends a beautiful pirogue, which turns out to be magical and take whoever enters it to Karaba’s house ; the second time she sends a beautiful, moving tree which ensnares in its branches all the kids that pass nearby before returning to Karaba’s house. But the two times Kirikou saves the children.

Realizing that the spring of the village being dried up causes a LOT of problems, Kirikou decides to solve the situation. Using his small size to enter the cliff from which the spring used to come from, he discovers that the “curse” of Karaba is actually a giant monster that drinks up all the water. Kirikou manages to kill it, and the spring flows once more.

Now, Kirikou has one specific character traits: he is a very curious boy, constantly asking questions. When he was born he just kept asking questions, such as where all the men where, or why the spring was dried up, and every time the answer was “Karaba”. But one of his questions never was answered: “Why is Karaba wicked?”. To that, no one can give him an answer… But his mother knows the only one who can tell Kirikou the answer he seeks. It is the “The Wise Man of the Mountain”, who happens to be Kirikou’s own grandfather – but he lives in the “Forbidden Mountain”, called as such because Karaba forbids anyone from going near it. The mountain is just behind Karaba’s house, and she has a “watcher statue” on her rooftop that keeps a constant surveillance. However Kirikou manages to sneak past Karaba’s house by using underground tunnels, and after many adventures he reaches the magical domain of the Wise Man of the Mountain, who answers all of Kirikou’s questions.

  SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

You see, at this point we reach the last act of the movie. We reach the climax, the secrets revealed, the answer to all questions, so if you want to watch the movie by yourself I suggest you don’t go further.

SPOILERS ALERT! SPOILERS ALERT!

SPOILERS BEGIN HERE:

The Wise Man in the Mountain, who knows everything and holds all truths, reveals that if Karaba forbids anyone from reaching him, it is because she uses ignorance and lack of knowledge as her weapon: it is how she instills fear in the heart of people. Because Karaba is actually a very intelligent and cunning woman. She is a powerful magic-user, that is true, but she is actually less powerful than the villagers think. For example, the idea that she devoured all the men that tried to fight her? It is a lie. Karaba is not an ogress nor a cannibal. But she did defeat all the men in the village: she turned them into the fetish statues that serve her faithfully. As for the dried-up spring, it actually never was her doing. The monster inside the spring is just a random beast that dried up the spring by being too gluttonous, it was never sent by Karaba. But she took credit for it and pretended to have cursed the spring. Again, she needs people to fear her, and she manipulates them into believing her to be an all-powerful monster.

As for why Karaba is wicked, the answer is actually quite tragic. As the Wise Man reveals, Karaba once was a kind woman. But, as he stressed out, she was intelligent and powerful… And the men of the community she came from did not like women intelligent or powerful. They feared her, hated her, and one day they decided to “punish” her for being better than them: they took a poisonous thorn and plunged it in her back. It was located in a place where she couldn’t take it off herself, and the constant pain it caused her turned her wicked and made her powers evil. As the Wise Man reveals, if one were to take off the thorn that torments Karaba, she would be good again and all her curses would break.

This is the last mission of Kirikou: to save Karaba the witch from her own evilness. He sneaks into her house by underground tunnels, steals all the jewels she took away from the village, and hid them (quite clumsily) in the forest, all while leaving obvious traces of his passage. Karaba, enraged and determined to kill once for all Kirikou, sends a poisonous viper to kill him, but the miniature boy tricks the beast. So Karaba takes a poisonous spear and goes out to find her jewels and kill Kirikou herself. But as she digs in the earth to find back the hidden jewels, Kirikou jumps on her back and removes the thorn. This stops the constant pain of Karaba, she returns to being a kind and gentle woman, and all of her curses and evil magic as undone.

Kirikou then returns with Karaba and all the men (now free from the fetish spell) to the village, where they are welcomed – and it is a happy ending.  

- - -

As you can see by the ending of the story, "Kirikou and the Witch" isn't just a retelling of traditional fairytales. It is also a deep movie that sneaks important issues and topic in a way children can understand. It speaks of the dark power of ignorance, of the importance of curiosity and knowledge, and it deconstructs the archetype of the wicked witch by highlighting the oppression and abuse women did suffer from. This is why this movie was so beloved, appreciated by adults and children together, with many people reinterpreting it in many different ways. The movie was such a success the studios kept asking for sequels, but Michel Ocelot at first refused. He had conceived a full story, with a beginning and an end, it was a complete tale and he couldn't stretch it further. However he did create few stories that actually take place during the movie's stories - tales of past victories of Kirikou against Karaba, or of various heroic feats he did for the village. At first they were just children books, but they quickly were turned into a sequel (well "sidequel") movie, "Kirikou and the Wild Beasts". Finally the Kirikou movie were closed by a third film making it a complete trilogy, another sidequel called "Kirikou and the Men and Women", released in 2012.

[forgloryforhonor]

modern au tae ideas?

i liked that fic where she was a sophomore college student just trying to get by (the fic's deleted now). In that case she’d be one who’d get a master’s degree and other additional accreditational stuff. Maybe go into phds too? and also a teaching and research job at university.

and also that fic where she's a go getter career office woman

but if i had to make up my own

note that this is in a philippine setting okay? i'm just gonna throw in the side hustles of everyone I know.

she'd have that work/grind attitude. Like she'll be the type who'll go into selling health insurance / life plans to all her friends while also doing those multi-level marketing things that focus on beauty products and vitamins. Occasionally she dabbles on selling real estate too, attending seminars, going to PKS, enticing customers in malls to buy condominiums and other sht.

Then she'll also go into stock exchange, trade, NFTs (i know nft is a flop but bear with me, it did earn her money for a while).

Since she's into real estate, she'd have a few decent properties that she'd rent out for airbnb.

She also buys and sells antique kimono, clean them, model them and sell them on an online shop.

All the while being an instructor in a dojo. Swinging a stick and occassionally beating up students/fellow teachers is how she releases her stress.

I wanna put her in a marketing/sales job honestly.

And look, she's excellent at people pleasing. Flirting with male colleagues and making them buy her sht. She's also good at convincing other female, trans, lgbtqia+, senior employees of buying her sht. She leads the teams during office parties and organizes the decorations and entertainment. The bosses love her take-no-sht attitude. Some people try to knock her down. They succeed but she will always find a way out and come out on top somehow.

She'd be one of those people who use mugs and decor with cheesy catchphrases such as

"GIRLBOSS"

"HE WHO DOES NOT WORK DOES NOT EAT -Proverbs 12:27"

"NO PAIN NO GAIN"

"JUST DO IT - NIKE"

"FALL SEVEN TIMES, STAND UP EIGHT"

“BOSS ASS BITCH”

Her refrigerator is stocked full of expensive Haagen Das and all those luxury ice creams coz hey if she's making money she might as well INDULGE.

Also an entire room in hers and shinpachi's house is chock full of BZ's.

Does she sleep? No. She runs on caffeine, ice cream, pure energy and chaos. Does she burn out? Also No. She's one of those neurodivergent types who can't stop won't stop even when they're out of gas.

Shinpachi loves her but even he gets dizzy with how chaotic his sister's life is. The odd jobs guy next door, is hella more relaxed and easygoing compared to her.

He adores them both though and they all get along because aneue and odd jobs guy have both the same greed for money lol. He cooks for both of them coz he's the only sane guy left in town.

Also like.. the village elder has taken a liking to her and is pushing Otae to be the next leader of community projects.

Works well for Otae though. She thrives on solving problems, creating problems and making people buy her sht.

Bonus if she had a short stint as a hostess and is aware of how the system treats those workers. She’d go into soft activism against unjust practices by the government and yakuza BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE DOES.

go girl

I can never be like you

but kudos all the same.

[the-jazzy-cool-cat]

The real reason why I dislike the U.S.A is because they are hipocrats.

They act like their cointry is soooooo progresive whe there is waaaay more progresive countries out there but they like to pretent that all their problems where solved durant the relivution, like as if the American revolucionaries din't own slaves and the creation of the country itself din't involve kicking the indigenous people out of their own lands.

Hell Gorge Washington burned down Native amercan villages, because he was a racist asshole.

They pretend they are sooo much better than the brithish when their history is Made whit Just as much homophobia, racism and opresion.

And that is what anoys me the most.