#you will receive payback after this and that is a Threat <3

[ryik-the-writer]

THE AUDACIOUS STORYBROOKE MIRROR ADVICE COLUMNIST (WEDNESDAY PAPER EDITION) In which Lacey French is a smutty advice columnist for the Storybrooke Mirror.

Ch. 3: Lacey proposes a team-up and bantering ensures

A03

Gold tried to bury his guilt as he paced around his home, desperate to get his conversation with Lacey French out of his mind.

He shouldn’t have said what he said. He hadn’t meant what he said. But that hardly mattered; he’d realized that the second he saw the hurt on Lacey’s face.

That was hardly the way to act around someone he’d been in love with for years.

But he was a coward, he knew this in his bones. The word had been thrown at him for decades, by his abusive parents, his fellow soldiers during his day in the service, even his ex-wife.

It was odd, the way a word follows one around like bad gum on ones shoe. It was even stranger how true it became after a while.

“What are we going to do about this?”

He should have told her there and then what they could do about it. He could have let her into his house, offered her a cup of tea and explained the email he sent her in a drunken daze, as well as the feelings behind it.

But instead he’d snarled his teeth and turned her away, as he seemed to do everyone.

Few could phase through the icy wall he surrounded himself with. Jefferson Hatter, a local tailor, Gold’s occasional business partner and certified nutter, would walk through glass if provoked, and would climb that wall to get to Gold when he felt like it, namely his liquor cabinet, but kept his distance just the same.

Then there was David Nolan, Storybrooke’s “nice guy” who tried to be friends with every single person in town. However a kind word or a hello when their paths crossed in town was as far as he would go, as he knew the consequences of getting too close to the town monster.

There were a few others, tenants who had polished records of getting their rent in on time, and thus were civil, abet a bit cold.

Truth was, Gold didn’t know how to let people in. What could he do with other people, let alone a beautiful creature like Lacey French?

Pushing her away was the logical thing to do, he decided as he began straightening up his living room. He even nodded to the idea.

She’d forget about him, find some striking fellow who deserved her, and he could go back to admiring her afar, after he completely disconnected his email, that is.

It was the perfect decision, he thought, and would set off a lifetime of silence, but it would be worth it to spare Lacey from his sting.

He thought the decision final until there was another, very familiar knock on the door, and a new course of fate was struck.

He was shocked to find Lacey back at his door, not even half an hour after he sent her on her way.

“Miss—“

“Zip it,” Lacey ordered, and Gold found his tongue heavy as lead.

Lacey examined him again, noting how she met his eyes in her heels. The extra height gave her a boost of confidence. She feared Gold as much as she feared Keith Nottingham or Sydney Glass, but Gold had a bit more leverage on her livelihood. Not to mention, with all that he had revealed with the email, there was a softness there she didn’t want to harm.

She’d come for his help, after all, not further put a strain between them.

She’d even let go of his earlier comment, only if he helped her, that is.

“Look,” she began. “Let’s start over from earlier. Thanks for the email, I thought it was cute, blah blah blah.”

Gold gripped his cane. “Your point?”

“It’s…the kind of material I need.” Lacey admitted, feeling woefully embarrassed to admit her own lack of skill. “And I was wondering if, possibly, you could do it again.”

“Do…what again?”

“Write another email, one’s that sensational but clean, and give or take 100 words.”

Gold stared at her, honestly unable to grasp her concept of thought.

“Are you asking me to write for the paper?” he inquired, the question coming out as a cruel scoff.

“No,” she shot back. “Not exactly…” she huffed, hating him. “The truth is I can’t write fluff, but I need a fluff piece for Wednesday’s paper … and you seemed to have that skill.”

A dark smirk tugged at his mouth.

Push her away.

“So your telling me you can’t do your job, Miss French,” he laughed, and his heart clenched as he watched her cheeks burn. “Your incompetence is not my problem.”

He started to close the door, believing the cruel words would be the end of the situation, but Lacey’s heeled shoe stopped him.

She leaned into him now, her blue eyes colder than the iceberg that struck the Titanic.

“Look, you pompous, little shit of a man,” she growled. “You can help me, or –“

“Or what?” Gold yelled. Instinctively, he fought off all threats, even if they came from the woman he currently had a burning fondness for. “You have no power over me, dearie. But me, I can have you homeless with the click of a pen, so I suggest you find someone else to pawn your duties onto.”

Lacey gulped. He’d revealed her one fear in all this. He could take so much from her, true. Losing her apartment could lead to her losing her job under the right circumstances, not to mention staying with someone with a space the same size as hers.

But somehow, Lacey didn’t see the frothing landlord intertwining with the love-struck admirer who sent her the email.

She try one more thing, and then she’d quit, she promised.

So she smirked and placed a hand on her hip, the same pose she took whenever she turned down Keith Nottingham or had to go head to head with Sydney.

“You’re not going to do shit,” she said, watching in glee as Gold’s expression changed to a flabbergasted one.

“I beg—“

“You have the hots for me, Gold,” she continued. “I have the proof on laptop. You’re not going to throw me on the street, not now.”

They were both quiet following Lacey’s observation, but the latter only hoped it was a correct one, and Gold didn’t call Sheriff Graham to cart her away.

Thankfully, Gold’s tight posture relaxed. She’d called his bluff, and now he was putty in her hands.

“Very well, Miss French.” He sighed in surrender. It would be her heart too, he decided.

“So, will you …” she trailed off, staring at him half-hopefully.

It wasn’t a good idea, he thought, but he had no leverage on her now. Nothing to scare her of push her away.

So he did the only thing he could do: he rolled his eyes and stepped aside.

Lacey shrieked in delight, practically dancing past him into his prison and sanctuary.

She gave a whistle at the first glance of his abode.

“Not bad,” she commented.

“I don’t need your input on my decorating, dearie,” he sighed. “Just…show me what you want.”

Lacey help back a dirty comment and instead inquired the whereabouts of his computer.

Gold slowly led her to his study, his face heating up when they went past his bedroom.

His computer was still on, humming away. Gold quickly closed his email, seeing Lacey smirk out of the corner of his eye, and stepped aside.

“Your turn,” he said.

Lacey popped her fingers and swirled his chair around, logging into her work email where dozens of inquiries on love and sex awaited.

She scrolled longingly past them to three of the tamer ones, including one she’d received an hour ago and hadn’t read yet. She opened them in new windows and eased back so Gold could see the screen.

“This is what I have to work with,” she sighed. “Help.”

Gold scoffed and leaned in as closely as he could without touching her. He swiped his glasses off the table, putting them on and glancing at each email, his attention getting particularly grabbed by the newest one.

“Dear Racy Lacey,” Gold read. “I recognize that this is hardly your expertise, but I’m not sure who else to turn to. I just found out a woman I once loved very much has passed away in my home country, and I’m torn whether to go to the funeral or not. Our separation was not a pleasant one, but there was still a great deal of love on my end. I know she must have built an entire life after us, and I don’t wish to infringe on her family’s grief, but I feel I must face this, less I regret it forever.

Please, Racy Lacey, what should I do?

Signed, Wooden-hearted Widower.

Gold and Lacey were quiet for a moment, the weight of the seriousness of the email hitting them both.

Lacey, of course, knew that the message was sent from Marco Booth, Storybrooke’s most notable carpenter and friendly face.

He was also known for being able to cook a mean Italian dinner and having a shaky relationship with his only son. He was an open book, or so Lacey thought. He must be comfortable revealing this part of his life to the public, even if only some of the town’s more investigative residents would catch on who the email originated from.

Still, why write her?

It was rare to not see him with Jimminy Cricket, the town shrink, a much more perfect candidate for this sort of subject.

“Maybe they’re too close.” She wondered allowed.

Gold looked down at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lacey waved him off. “What do you think, can you do something with this?”

Gold relaxed on the sofa near his desk, musing on the subject as Lacey swirled the chair to face him, anticipating his answer.

“Remind me again why you can’t do this yourself, your job at that?”

Lacey groaned. “Come on, Gold.”

He smirked lightly, taking her misery as a nice little slice of payback.

“Humor me, Miss French.”

“Gods,” Lacey cursed, leaning down so she could stare at the floor rather than his face (which was decently framed by his reading glasses, she dared added.)

“I’m not good with the fluffy stuff,” she relayed.

Gold frowned. “A man losing the love of his life hardly seems like “fluff,” as you say.”

“I mean the stuff outside of my expertise, romance and…”

“Sex,” Gold stated bluntly, pretending the very word itself didn’t affect him.

“Yep,” Lacey chuckled with a glance his way. “Giving people deep, meaningful advice on matters outside of that just doesn’t work for me. I don’t really know why but I don’t want people to get bad advice because of my…” she looked at him again, this time with a touch of malice. “Incompetence.”

Gold’s gaze waivered, ashamed for his earlier reaction.

“So, that’s why I need a bit of help, and no, I can’t go to one of my co-workers because it would look like I’m shrugging off my job.”

Gold nodded. Her motives were fairly innocent, and not too concerning. And to be fair, she could have done worse. Gold would admit that he did have quite the vocabulary, and could meet her requirements.

It was the emotional aspect of the job she was asking of him he feared he couldn’t handle.

Years of keeping so much emotion inside was dangerous. He was a boiler ready to blow, and she was the last person he wanted to see him in that state.

“So…” Lacey shrugged. “That’s my problem, Gold. What do you think?”

He thought, despite the risks, this was a golden opportunity, if you pardon the pun. He’d finally be able to spend time with her, truly get to know her, and test to see if these feelings of his were true or just a passing phase. Eventually, he would spare them both a good deal of grief.

He sighed. “Let’s form a rough draft and go from there.”

“Yes!” She yelped, spinning in his chair. “I owe you big!”

“We’ll see,” he replied, hiding his grin. “Now get serious.”

“Serious,” Lacey repeated, opening an email to herself to start typing.

“Back straight,” he ordered. “Legs uncrossed.”

“For Gods’ sake,” Lacey groaned.

“Focus,” Gold ordered, standing just behind her. “Now type after me. Dear Wooden-hearted Widower…”

“Dear Wooden-hearted Widower,” Lacey repeated in a childish tone.

Gold glared at her for a moment before continuing.

“It’s my barely expert advice that you stick to familiar lands and not take the trip—“

“First off, up yours,” Lacey hissed. “Secondly, what the hell do you mean he shouldn’t take the trip?”

Gold rolled his eyes. She was too young to understand the true pain of lost love, and too inexperienced to realize when it was appropriate to take a step back.

“Would you have him scratch at scars or heal on his own?”

“I’d have him face his demons and make peace!” Lacey fought back. “Running away from ones problem doesn’t do anyone a damn bit of good!”

“You asked for my help and I’m giving it to you. Write what I say or do it yourself.”

Lacey groaned, feeling cornered, and Lacey French snarled and bit and clawed when she was in a jam.

But this was a strategic battle, one she’d end up losing in some capacity, but she was striving to win gracefully no matter what.

“How about we meet in the middle?”

“What middle do we share?” Gold asked.

“We tell him to go and...stay guarded, I guess.”

Gold rubbed a hand over his face. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. Of course he and Lacey had completely different mindsets. She had a shred of humility, his had burned to a crisp years ago.

“If he goes to her funeral, he’ll only be hurt,” Gold concluded, leaning against his chair as he willed away thoughts that needed to remain buried.

“After all, there’s no greater pain than regret.”

Lacey watched him carefully, seeing that softer side that most of the town was certain didn’t exist.

Maybe this was too much for him. For all she knew he had some deep, dark past that was threatening to overtake the present.

She wasn’t one to get circulated in someone else’s business or to gossip openly, but damn she’d love to peak into his mind, into his past.

However, she had a job to do. One of the first things she was taught about journalism-wise was to distant herself emotionally from the subject. It made the job a lot easier.

“He’d regret things a lot more if he didn’t go,” Lacey commented. “Maybe it’s better to rip the band aid off.”

Gold accepted this, but held onto his restraint.

“He needs to be careful.”

“Let’s go again,” Lacey said with a snap of her fingers. “This time let’s be a bit more positive.”

Gold let out a rude noise but relented.

“Dear Wooden blah blah blah,” Lacey read, pausing to let Gold jump in.

“Should you…” Gold began, changing his mind. “You should pursue this endeavor with caution, as the past has a way of taking over the present if you become too engulfed in it.”

Lacey matched his words, listening with interest to his advice.

“Don’t expect a warm reception or even a lukewarm resolution…”

“That’s a little harsh,” Lacey muttered.

“However, you should expect to leave in peace, and I indorse planning your trip with this in mind.”

Lacey finished typing and waited for him to continue, but Gold went quiet. When she looked at him, he had a contempt look on his face, considering their work finished.

Lacey hummed and turned back to the computer.

“Good luck to you have a safe trip back.”

“No,” Gold spat. “Don’t add such a treacly ending like that. It’s tacky.”

“It shows we give a damn.”

“It’s out of place.”

“Oh my gods!” Lacey whined, typing out her signature and then sending the email to Cruella while Gold protested behind her.

“Well that’s just lovely, and incredibly dowdy,”

“It’s fine,” Lacey scoffed. Damn he stressed too much.

Gold snarled, muttering something about incompetence and newspapers.

“Fine, are we done?”

Lacey spun in his chair, giving him the same look she would give Glass when she was getting scolded.

“Come on, this wasn’t so bad.”

“You’re right, it was downright terrible, but it’s over now. I’ll see you out.”

Lacey frowned. She’d go with dignity, but not until she spoke her mind.

“You have the funniest way of charming the chick you have the hots for.”

Gold slapped the top of his cane. “Would you stop saying that, it’s unbecoming.”

Lacey clucked her tongue. She had him now.

“What would you call it then?” she challenged.

“Miss French—“

“Lacey, and just humor me.”

Gold wished the floor would give way. It was a miracle he was able to think though Lacey’s column with her being within five feet of him. Now he had to bear his soul to her in his own study.

“I would call it an attraction,” he admitted, hoping she’d leave before he could be truly humiliated.

“So yeah, you have the hots for me.”

“I like to think it’s a bit more than that.”

Lacey smirked, her lip running over her lip. She’d had men flaunt over her before, but this somehow was more genuine, more real. To have those affections come from someone as stoic as Gold was truly interesting.

It was flattering, though she wasn’t sure how to feel in return. Probably best to stick to the business arrangement for now.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a spot of fun in the meantime.

“How about a drink?” Lacey suggested.

Gold’s stomach flipped at the idea of alcohol. “It’s one in the afternoon.”

“So what, we need to celebrate,” she said, sauntering to him. “To our new relationship.”

Gold twitched, flustered at her closeness. “Relationship?”

“Well, after this I’m sure Glass will want me to do one of these once in a while, which means I’ll have to come back for your … assistance.”

Gold almost choked on his own gulp. So much for keeping her at distance.

“Gold,” she sighed, wrapping his free arm in hers and leading him downstairs. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

[aspoonofsugar]

Warning? What Winter is an implied threat in fact is the second he receives, do you know that there is a possibility that Ironwood and Watts are alive? as Ironwood has a huge fan base and advocates and most prefer Watts as a villain than Cinder mainly because of his talk of why you suck that he gave to Cinder. Also Watts has the excuse that he never unlocked his appearance and they already played that trick on Jaune.

"Watts's wishes lead to her death and the same could happen to Cinder if she doesn't stop in time." And matters? In your theory of the principles of alchemy you establish your belief that Cinder will die in the end. Not stopping "in time" a minor distinction. Everything for her translates into following an impossible dream but dreaming of her to the bitter end or just redeeming herself to live on borrowed time.

Hello anons,

these two asks can be answered together for two reasons.

1) They both refer to this meta.

2) The answers to these two asks all lie in the idea that you can talk about a story from different perspectives.

In particular, these two asks touch at least 4 different ways to look at a narrative and mix them all together.

So, I’ll answer bit by bit.

1)

Warning? What Winter is an implied threat in fact is the second he receives,

I used the term “warning” to convey the idea that Winter’s lines are used not only in-universe to express Winter’s feelings (she is calling Ironwood out and swearing revenge on Cinder), but to make a specific point.

As I said in the meta Cinder and Ironwood are foils and their foiling is conveyed through their actions, but also through specific lines said in key moments or by key characters, so that the viewers can pick up on their juxtaposition.

Ironwood: I will sacrifice... whatever it takes... to stop her.

Cinder:  And take... what is mine.

The one above is another example. Ironwood and Cinder say these lines respectively in Gravity and Ultimatum while they are confronting Watts. The two scenes are clear parallels, but in one scene you have Ironwood say he will sacrifice everything, while in the other Cinder talks about taking what is hers. We are meant to pick up on the juxtaposition.

The same thing can be said about Winter’s lines because Winter is either willingly or unwillingly pointing out the mistakes in Ironwood and Cinder’s logics.

On one hand Ironwood says he’ll sacrifice everything because he feels entitled to do so. The implication is that he sees everything as his, even what is not (others’ lives).

On the other hand Cinder wants everything because she feels she must receive payback from the world. She too feels entitled, but for a different reason than Ironwood.

Winter highlights Ironwood’s selfishness and points out how Cinder will receive a pay-back, not a prize though, but a punishment (in narrative terms).

Of course Winter has no idea she is in a narrative. We know though and we can read her lines in two ways.

The first one is from a character perspective. Why Winter says does things in-universe.

The second one is from an analytical pov. What those lines mean for the themes and for the narrative as a whole.

You are referencing the first, while in the analysis I am using the second.

2)

do you know that there is a possibility that Ironwood and Watts are alive? as Ironwood has a huge fan base and advocates and most prefer Watts as a villain than Cinder mainly because of his talk of why you suck that he gave to Cinder. Also Watts has the excuse that he never unlocked his appearance and they already played that trick on Jaune.

Watts and Ironwood being still alive or not does not change the sense of my meta. They have still been defeated and tricked by Cinder hence their thematic meaning in the volume does not change.

Moreover, once again I am using an analytical perspective there. An analysis is meant to comment on the story itself and to interpret it. Of course this interpretation might change as the story goes on and new information comes in. Still, a volume is meant to be a unit and to have some kind of thematic resolution, even if this resolution can be subverted or made deeper in the following installments.

Anyway, when it comes to Ironwood and Watts surviving I do not think it is the case. You are discussing the story through a fandom perspective. However, so far CRWBY has not been scared about killing off even popular characters.

Moreover, so far the “fake” deaths have always been pretty clear. It was clear that in volume 3 both Ozpin and Penny’s deaths were temporary and that they would have come back.

Similarly, all the characters who fall this past volume are very clearly alive.

Finally, even Cinder falling in volume 5 was clearly not the end of her story. This is because Cinder is a key character and she will be so until the end.

Which leads us to the idea Watts would be a better villain than her, The answer here is very clearly...no. Cinder is waaaaaay deeper as a character than Watts.

Watts is a character clearly linked to Atlas (just like Ironwood) and he has been pivotal in the past volumes because his skills are especially useful in such a setting. Other than this, he is a character clearly there to serve Cinder’s arc and not vice versa.

In general, all the members of team WTCH with the exception of Cinder herself are in the story as foils of our original villain trio:

Cinder, Emerald and Mercury are deeper and more complex characters than Watts, Hazel and Tyrian. This does not mean W, H and T are bad characters. I actually like all of them, but their role in the narrative is meant to be less important than the other three.

It is not by chance that Hazel and Watts both die in situations linked to respectively Emerald and Cinder. I guess Tyrian’s death will have something to do with Mercury’s story. Or maybe their foiling will play out differently. Anyway, they are clearly linked.

This is also why comparing Watts to Jaune does not really work. Jaune is a protagonist, while Watts is a secondary villain. Jaune discovering his semblance is not a trick, but a part of his character arc, while Watts does not even have an arc. He is more similar to Torchwick aka another character who dies without discovering his semblance.

3)

"Watts's wishes lead to her death and the same could happen to Cinder if she doesn't stop in time." And matters? In your theory of the principles of alchemy you establish your belief that Cinder will die in the end. Not stopping "in time" a minor distinction. Everything for her translates into following an impossible dream but dreaming of her to the bitter end or just redeeming herself to live on borrowed time.

What I wrote in the meta is an analysis, while me thinking Cinder will have a redemptive death is a theory. An analysis for me is about interpreting the past, while a theory is a guess about the future. A person might agree with the analysis, but disagree with the theory or vice versa... hence the two things are not necessarily linked.

If you are asking how I see the two things coming together in my mind, then the answer is that I think Cinder won’t stop herself in time. Or to better say, it is that this volume was her chance not to stop herself, but at least to slow down a little. However, she has not taken it.

I think she will receive pretty harsh consequences for what happened in Atlas. She is given a lot of warnings (Oscar’s warning abt Salem, Salem’s torture compared to the Madam’s, Watts’ speech, Neo’s threath, Emerald and Mercury leaving her). She chooses to ignore all of these and cuts off all the relationships that could have been either positive or at least neutral. We are in a story hence she will probably receive narrative consequences for all of this.

That said, I do not think these consequences will lead to her death. Still, things will probably go worse for her (and for everybody else) and she will need to be saved by the people she hurt. Once this happens, since we are in a story, I guess she will change and will need an action to cement this change. This action will probably be a sacrifice because Cinder is a selfish character, so to show she has become better she will be asked to sacrifice something. Maybe this sacrifice will be something else, but it could also be her life. This would be coherent with the themes and probably with the stakes. At the end of the story stakes are bound to be higher.

Just to be clear... I would actually be happy if Cinder survives and if this happens in a way that is narratively satisfying. I am not against it. I just think there is a possibility the story may go another way with her. We’ll see. In the end, this is just a theory and we still have a long way to go. New info coming next volume or the one after might change my mind.

Thank you for the asks!

[msdowartyheps]

PROMPT: AU where Christine is a lawyer and Erik is her client :')

Thank you so much for the prompt, @helloitskrisha! I hope you like it <3

.

“That would be one count of second-degree murder, several counts of threat through handwritten notes and continued extortion. Did I miss anything?”

“No, you got everything right, as usual.”

“Any cues on his motivation?”

Mrs. Giry hesitated. A very frustrated Christine rubbed her eyes with her right hand and sighed.

“I need something to work with, Mrs. Giry. I know this man is important to you, but my hands are tied. I can’t propose a deal to the DA if I have nothing to offer.”

“I know, my dear, trust me, but… This is complicated.”

Christine snorted.

“‘Complicated doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I’ll try my best. So let me ask again. Any cues on his motivation?”

“I think you should see it for yourself.”

—

“Why them? You claim to be a master of arts, what’s stopping you? You could have started your own company, hired whoever you wanted, gotten a better theater even…”, she tried to keep her voice amiable. This man was a charade.

“You make it sound as if such things are simple.”

“But they are!”

“Counselor, things are never simple for a man like me.”

“I was told you are rich.”

“How does that change anything?”

“People may not like other people, but they never, ever, argue with money.” Erik opened his mouth. “Unless you’re extorting them, of course”, she quipped before he could say anything.

Erik huffed. His lawyer’s face softened.

“Erik, I’m only trying to understand your reasons. I want to help you, but I need to know you.”

“Where did she find you, by the way? Mrs. Giry?”

“Her daughter is my best friend.”

Erik cackled. Whether or not he would spend a lifetime in prison depended on the abilities of little Meg’s friend? He was doomed.

The girl in front of him, however, didn’t seem to share his humor.

“Is there a problem?”

He sobered immediately.

“No, of course not. It’s just that… You’re awfully young.”

“And that makes me unreliable? Incapable?”

“No, that’s not-”, Christine cut him off.

“If you would prefer, Mr. Erik, I have no problem in telling Mrs. Giry that you were unwilling to cooperate, and therefore jeopardized my work, which will ultimately lead you to a lifetime in jail. I don’t have a habit of giving up on cases, but most people work along their attorneys, not against them, whether they like it or not. Unlike you, they seem to be aware it’s for their own good.”

Erik remained silent for several minutes. Giving up, Christine sighed inwardly, grabbed her briefcase and got up from the chair.

“There was a scam”, she finally heard Erik’s voice.

—

Christine couldn’t believe her luck. Or bad luck, she hadn’t decided which one yet. If she hadn’t heard the story from Erik himself, looking into his eyes as he told it, she would have thought he had caught the idea from a movie or a book.

As it turns out, Erik had been one of the creators of one of the city’s theaters. He had designed the entire building, not only the exterior but each and every one of the rooms, from the box seats to the orchestra pit, from the dressing rooms to the ticket booths, and worked with his then partner in building it.

However, his so-called partner was actually an agent from a wealthy corporation which claimed to own the building after it was finished. Having fled Persia as somewhat a refugee, and also due to his mask, which Christine presumed hid some sort of deformity, Erik had no documents at the time to even prove he existed as a person. He never got a single dime for his designing and engineering.

Ironically, said theater now housed the most famous, longest-running and probably most lucrative Broadway show, which had been on for decades nonstop. Erik, who seemed to be a sucker for drama, as theatre people usually are, then proceeded to invade the theater and wreak some harmless havoc as payback, using secret passages no one knew about.

He had a solid alibi for the murder charge and the original blueprints of the building were still in his possession, filled with information only the original designer would know. The copies the corporation owned were simpler, luckily. The extortion was still an issue, but well, the money was his anyway, and if they managed to prove he was actually the victim, and not a villain, the corporation would have it far worse.

—

Eventually, of course, the case hit the news, despite Christine’s efforts to keep it low-profile, but it ended up being beneficial for Erik. When the story about how a widely known entertainment corporation took advantage of a disfigured refugee and his work came out, the support Erik received was massive. People did love a plot twist.

The District Attorney accepted his alibi without question. Later on, they found out that Joseph Bouquet’s death had first been ruled out as an accident, but, with Erik trapped and caught, the corporation decided to pin it on him, despite the fact that the “Theater Ghost” never hurt anyone else.

When all that dirt was uncovered, the show company, orchestra and crew included, summoned up a strike and even threatened to resign if Erik wasn’t paid his due, and organized a special concert to raise funds in favor of his cause. The initiative was immediately supported by fans and theatergoers, and the tickets sold out within minutes, prompting the opening of a second, third and fourth performances, not to mention the smaller fundraisings that popped up all over the internet. As he was already a wealthy man, Erik planned on donating at least part of the money to nonprofit organizations that helped refugees. No one else should have to go through what he did.

—

Today, they would know if their efforts had paid off. Christine’s hands shook slightly as she arranged her chocolate brown curls in an elegant bun. Her and Erik would be there early; because it was their final day at court, he wanted to thank people. Whenever they had an appointment at the courthouse hundreds of people would camp outside of it, carrying banners and signs with supportive phrases, cheering him on as he walked by. He smiled awkwardly and waved at them, even shaking a few hands once, but that was about it.

Thankfully, Erik’s address was still a mystery, as well as her office’s, though many people were closer to his home than they dared to imagine. He was a very discreet person, as much as his mask allowed him to be, therefore no one ever noticed him disappearing behind a door in one of the side walls of the theater he claimed to own.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen at the court. This case is a very peculiar one; accusations were turned over to the people who first filed them and the defendant claimed to be the actual victim.”

Erik could barely breathe. It was now or never. Sure, Christine had told him they could appeal in case the verdict was not favorable, but it wouldn’t be the same. The assholes would always have that advantage of the first win. He trusted his lawyer, though. She had done everything within her power to help him. She had earned his trust. Erik glanced at her.

Christine was beautiful. Despite her hair being tied up, a few strands framed her delicate face. Her expression was neutral, but her brown eyes were peaceful; he knew she was confident about the verdict.

The judge rambled on about the treatment of refugees and the deplorable situations they were often submitted to by dishonest people, but Erik was marveling at Christine’s slightly rosy cheeks and the fact that she didn’t have a single freckle. However, remembering how important this was, he sobered up and turned his attention to the judge.

“...After analyzing the facts and evidences presented in this court, I find that the accusations are legitimate. Mr. Erik shall be named the official theater owner back to its opening date until this day. The corporation remains obliged to pay him royalties and monthly rent for the years the theater was illegally occupied.”

The audience celebrated and clapped. Erik turned to thank Christine and give her a handshake, but she nearly jumped into his arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. He quickly gathered himself and hugged her back, but Christine let go before long, looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry”, she said, blushing. “I know you’re not… I shouldn’t have. I’m very happy, that’s all. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

Erik merely hugged her again.

Justice had been served. It was a good day.

[atrayo]

Channeled Angelic Prophecy of the Jewels of Truth Series on Chinese Militaristic Hegemony Triggers WW3

Hello All,

I'm somewhat nervous about making this entry blog post regarding it's a very very controversial topic. It would come off as China-bashing, which in fact it is more an alarmist entry regarding an East vs. West power struggle that gets out of hand with a conflagration of a World War in its wake. This almost seems like history repeating itself less than a century ago with the Japanese Imperial ambitions of the 1940s spreading across the South Pacific.

I get skittish when I receive such automatic writing missives from the angels as a cautionary form of tough love. As repent all ye who enter here type of phenomena. For my part, I usually bury these statements in my notebook collection of these channeled statements. However, I deemed this one more so detailed with 8 Points of No Return as qualifiers for WW3 with China versus the World triggers itself. I intuit that this is 75% locked in already as ill-fated destiny up to 85% potentiality.

This is my caveat I hope to God I'm awful wrong as having drunk the Kool-Aid as Coco for Coco-Puffs loony toons basket case in this regard. With that stated, I feel more a prophet of doom than an Inspirational spiritual poet as my usual devotion. The statement 3,048 dovetails also upon the commencement of WW4 in 2075 by the European Federation as an Empire, not today's European Union.

Interweaving through all this the angel nameless as they often are without egos speaks about my "Jewels of Truth" series surviving eons (?) from now as a recorded spiritual philosophical angelic discourse with humanity. Talk about a shameless plug in all places and on this apocalyptic topic.

Prophecy of WW3 & WW4:

3048) What is to become of what you call the "Jewels of Truth" legacy of our spiritual angelic discourse with you in the centuries and eons following the end of your life on this earth dearest "Ivan the Atrayo". A future global religion as a cross-pollination of spiritual traditions not unlike that of the Persian Bai-Ha religion but one that actually succeeds in becoming truly globalized. A meta-Worship of the Abrahamic Creator God gets pinched transcending its original roots in around 150 years plus. As can be said from wingtip to wingtip of the Imperial Hawk as the standard for a New World Order.

We the angelic heavenly host didn't wish to alarm you dear Navi (Hebrew for Prophet, ie my first name spelled backward "Ivan") with such an infamous statement as you deem alarmist. However, you amongst many others are canaries in the coal mine seeing the writing on the wall as false placating by China is practically a foregone conclusion in world history to come.

With all this said take this as a pinch of salt to add flavor to the human condition as a cautionary tale of woe if ignored en-masse. As you stated in your introduction above, this is our Tough Love for humanity to glean what it may from our stance to date. Humanity can steer around this for the writing on the wall can still be whitewashed over with bravery if mutual reconciliation is so desired between the superpower of China and the rest of the World.

Allow us to start backward as it may with the future disaster of World War 4 in the region of the world that you presently call Ukraine. Mother Russia is no more a threat for China in WW3 made them their conscripts but that comes later in this statement. The peoples of Ukraine are ancestrally pure stalk of Euro-Slavic genetics and the future European Federation as a dystopian version succeeds the European Union after the rampant famines and plagues scorch the earth post WW3. The European Super Continent unites more so akin to the Ancient Roman Empire of yore with democratic tendencies only for its elite castes. Thus the seeds of distrust and acrimony are sowed once more by barbarians at their gates of the empire.

The year is 2075 the European Continent was less so ameliorated by the nuclear holocaust of WW3 than that of the North American continental shelf. In some ways the traces of Chinese culture is stronger upon Europe for the Silk Road 2.0 of the Sino Belt and Road Initiative succeeds culturally and economically by far before the Chinese government uses it as a Trojan Horse. Chinese population centers of its mainland are akin to a lunar landscape post WW3. Thus its peoples migrant en masse onto Asia Minor what is the Middle East today and into the Eastern flanks of Europe. Such Chinese populations will be considered the barbarian mongrels for the dystopian European Federation thus WW4 ignites around the Black Sea of Crimea.

In twelve years what you consider as an alpha or new beginning Ivan. Will be the start of World War 3 with China upon the year 2033 Anno domino. Give or take 6 months after China crosses 8 Points of No Return that the angel of the Lord God sounds the trumpet of perdition on Earth. China for its part ascended to the righteous status of a superpower too quickly and anything that is achieved too soon is lost just as immediately. The greek tragedy of Icarus with the Sun melting the wax bindings of his artificial wings sends the young lad plummeting to his death.

It is a matter of fact that China has every right on God's Earth to succeed and be a proud nation of her ancestral peoples on a united front. However, as they have been victimized by the Japanese during the early 1940s and were the footstool of the British empire of the 19th century. They feel that payback is in order to the world with a chip on their shoulder, thus their Sino exceptionalism soon becomes a recipe for disaster for the rest of the world and her Asian neighbors.

Notwithstanding its currency manipulations as a temporary measure during the early 2000's to cheat its way to the top. This practice was soon discontinued due to not overheating with a meltdown their economies of scale were soon achieved globally. Next to their notorious one-two punch of lured infamy of intellectual property theft as sanctioned statecraft of technological theft transfers. It would allow the Chinese State to supercharge its beautiful minds to leapfrog the West and the grand USA at its own game.

The first ill-fated seal of WW3 was when China annexed and conquered Tibet during its Cultural Revolution of Mao Tse Tung. That set the tone of supremacy in an egotistical guise of reclaiming its lost Imperial Dynasties of centuries before of grandeur. The 2nd seal of WW3 was broken more so recently from what they learned in subjugating the Tibetan peoples. They carried over to their Muslim minority of the Uyghurs accomplishing their cultural genocide upon them as enslaved conscripts. The Western economic sanctions on its textiles from such a provincial region are little more than a slap on the wrist.

What the Chinese learned from the Tibetans and now the Uyghurs they are implementing on Hong Kong like the flap of the wings of a graceful dragon. Soon the 3rd seal of WW3 to be broken is the naval and aerial invasion of the democratic island nation of Taiwan off its mainland. These so-called rebels will soon experience the Chinese boot snapping their collective necks with the revenge of humiliating their might makes right doctrine.

The 4th seal of WW3 is already partially cracked open with China claiming its ancestral Imperial Dynastic seaways and now air passage routes in an outright fashion. Building naval airbase atolls out of the ocean a feat of engineering will soon pot mark the South China Seas like satellite landmines to the rest of the world. Naval commerce and air traffic are now harrassed including foreign military air traffic be dammed. Expect so-called enemy fighter pilots of Australia and other South East nations to be shot down outright. With naval cargo and oil freighters to be harassed by premature boarding inspections as so-called checks for illicit goods.

The 5th seal of WW3 to be broken is when Mother Russia is soon out witted by Chinese Hegemony. When the mafia state of the Russian government gets greedy in an oil dispute transfer with the Chinese it soon escalates to sour grapes all around. Leading up to China invading by land its armies seize Russian Southern Oil fields permanently. Thus Putin the Russian Czar's rule comes to an end as his Oligarchs soon replace him with a shill of a weak national leader to appease China. Opening the way in future years that the Russian army is at the beck and call of the Great Dragon of China as its conscripts by any other name.

The 6th seal of WW3 is when China tires of the North Korean Premiers games of Kim Jong-Un they annex North Korea without firing a shot. Installing a viceroy and begin massive industrial mining for the mineral riches of the North Korean Peninsula. Which ironically jump-starts the North Korean economy putting its citizens to work for an eventual rise out of poverty.

The 7th seal of WW3 is the greatly lauded Belt and Road Initiative as the Silk Road 2.0 becomes what it is advertised to do. A boon of Chinese engineering producing Infrastructure projects from China through the Middle East into parts of Europe as Sino goodwill public relations globally. It is a roaring success since similar projects brought Africa out of its schizophrenic famines and poverty up to 20 years ago. That all the foreign aid historically upon Africa could never do.

However, what looks good and feels good with much mutual economic prosperity triggers a fervor for Chinese hegemony abroad. Where southeast Asian nations of Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar, and Indonesia soon get the negative attention of Chinese interference as Big Brother. Frankly stated the Belt and Road Initiative becomes a proverbial Trojan Horse for the conscripted armies of Russia, North Korea, and China's armies. To seemingly roll upon in the guise of an inaugural guest-hosted military parade throughout the circuitous route becomes a bait and switch tactic.

The 8th seal of WW3 is that the unwelcome security occupation by the Chinese armies outside its mainland albeit as security guarantors is soon worn out. The remaining free nations declare war on China and within months a nuclear holocaust is triggered by the United States as a desperate first-strike policy.

Thus ensuring that Beijing its Capitol and Shangai as a modern port megalopolis of Chinese Supermacy is nuked several times by the Western nations of the US and Europe leaving it akin to a lunar landscape. The United States will receive the majority of Chinese Nukes rather than that of Europe as cited in the above introduction to this posting. The US island territory of Puerto Rico is hit directly upon Old San Juan its Capitol for it lacks a missile battery defense shield capability. All the island residents that remain leave over the ensuring years throughout the rest of the Caribbean (ie Cuba, Haiti, Dominican Republic, etc...) and other parts of Florida.

All major primary and secondary American cities are hit once or twice by Chinese and Russian nuclear strikes such as Miami, Houston, Washington D.C., Denver, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, New York City, Detroit, and so forth. Also, the missile defense shield battery purchased by Australia from the United States works as advertised. Sydney is spared a near-fatal strike however the radius concussion of such a nuclear missile detonation overhead causes an electromagnetic pulse knocking out its electrical grid. Its offshore island of Tasmania doesn't fare as fortunate it is hit directly annihilating its entire population. Lastly, the New Zealand Capitol of Christ Church is also hit directly by a Chinese nuclear strike.

World War 3 lasts for a mere 6 years time ending roughly by the end of the year 2039. Leaving what remains of China, Russia, North Korea, and its counterparts of the United States and Europe is a near catastrophe for the next 60 years plus to attempt recovery. The United States loses its superpower status soon to become the Federated States of America an empire by any other name dystopian. Chronic outbreaks of famine and various once curable diseases spread dysentery of water-born illnesses run rampant and plagues of Covid-19 and other forms of Influenza throughout the Americas.

However, in the decade to follow the Federated States of America invades its neighbor to the North as Canada. In order to seize its prized infrastructure and pastoral farmlands to maintain its hold of power. Slavery in America is institutionalized once more in order to cultivate its non-irradiated farmlands and strip mining. Hungry mouths cause riots and thus enslaving such unruly ungrateful once citizens is another act of desperation.

Africa and the rest of the Americas such as the Central and Southern regions fare way better from the Chinese and Russian nuclear attacks lest that of Columbia and Costa Rica. Ironically democracies take root here to one degree or another as they see the dystopian societies of Europe and that of North America and want no part of that turmoil. The Federated States of America partially fascist devolves into feudal Esque family houses of nobility as the once upper classes survive to a degree via tact and shrewdness.

Your "Jewels of Truth" series as our angelic discourse with humanity dearest "Ivan the Atrayo" survives mostly intact not unlike that of the affectionate Rumi and Hafiz as Spiritual Persian poets have done so. Since your channeled writings of us for now, over 26 years to date as Inspirational automatic writings as a clairaudient psychic technique has foretold. It Will be cherished by the generation of readers to come lasting centuries if not an eon or two more. Taken into the stars by futuristic human colonists leaving the earth out of necessity due to dwindling resources.

The 1st truly global earth religion subsumes your writings into one of its tomes of sacred literatures. Thus you'll be piggybacking onto another greatness by sheer good prosperous luck for the added measure as there are no accidents metaphorically speaking. To this, we remark a thank you for taking the courage to share this cautionary statement although your reservations have been noted in protest by us.

Go with God(dess) those of the eyes to see and the ears to hear between the rhetoric spoken by the greater national powers that be. There's is the agony soon to herald all into collective planetary ruin because of a game of brinkmanship that gets out of control soon enough. Pay attention and take actions that are peaceable via protests or be steamed rolled into oblivion. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 26 years of his life to the pursuit of clairaudient Inspired automatic writing channeling the Angelic host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series of "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also channels conceptual designs that are multi-faceted for the next society to come that are solutions based as a form of dharmic service. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 16 years plus online. You're welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.

[novelelitist]

If you could write a singularity, be it a main singularity or event, which servants would you feature, who's development would you focus on, where would it be, what role would the protag play, etc?

I’ve kept so many requests in here for months and I feel like a dick, but this actually came up in conversation today, and I liked it enough to say this is what I’d write, definitively, without a doubt. It’s really a big-ass two-parter of a tale. Threw random details I thought of under the cut Enjoy.

Britannia: The Day The Sun Set& Roma: The End Of Armageddon

"I will not assist you in your foolish side-quest, Master of Chaldea--the Whore of Babylon will destroy her own empire soon enough. Her fits of adultery and rage are of no interest to me and do little to benefit my end goal...

But, should you manage to quell her yourself before my plans come to fruition, I will permit you to face me as an opponent in my own Holy City. This is the graciousness I will give you as queen. Accept this gift, Ritsuka Fujimaru. It is the only kindness you will receive from the City At The End Of The World.”

- Morgan Le Fay

Story

In a way, it was destined to end up like this, wasn’t it? The two greatest empires the western world has known, facing each other in their prime, at last. A pity that these circumstances are what have brought it about.

Under the rule of Queen Morgan Le Fay, Britan has only spread beyond the horizon. Her plans for complete domination of this era will not be interrupted by any silly young magus. They will be interrupted by a growing unrest on the boundaries between the two great Empires. Any further conflicts would lead to an outright war and potentially cause the Singularity to collapse before Morgan can achieve her goal: control of Camelot, control of the throne, and control of all those who stood in her way. Payback is a bitch, and that bitch’s name is Morgan Le Fay.

In spite of the growing threat of British takeover, Roma persists, spreading to a point where it could no longer be sustained. Dissention between cities and the nation, between the Pagans and the Christians--all of it comes to a head when Nero Claudius fails to suppress her agony. As Roma suffers, so does she, and at last she falls at the hands of her own people and those that came before her. The Whore of Babylon rises from the ashes of the fallen emperor and her former comrades. With the Rider comes her mount: the Beast of Revelation. 

After unmeasured time searching, wandering, waiting to see what happened to the Beast of Revelation, Arthur Pendragon finds what he was looking for. His quest for peace can finally end on the battlefields of Armageddon. But the real battle will be with himself, as he comes to terms with the truths of his own rule and the rule of Morgan Le Fay over the new Britannia. 

For no matter how many battles can be won with a sword, the hardest are those in which your hands are tied.

Cast

Anti-Hero, Enemy: Morgan Le Fay, Queen of Camelot

Antagonist, Enemy: Mother Harlot, Beast of Humanity

Antagonist, Enemy: 666 - Beast of Revelation, Beast of Humanity

Main Characters (Britannia):

Arthur Pendragon (Prototype)

Galahad

Merlin 

Supporting Cast (Britannia): 

Guenivere

Lancelot

Mordred (Prototype)

Nimue, Lady of the Lake 

Percival 

Sir Kay

Main Characters (Roma): 

Gaius Julius Caesar

Marcus Antonius 

Romulus

Supporting Cast (Roma):

Astrea

Caligula 

Cleopatra

Scipio Africanus

Spartacus

Random Details

What percentage of story is what TLDR:

3/12 story is fighting your way into Britannia and doing things

1/12 Nero Claidus goes apeshit,big scary beast

1/12 story is on Britannia’s side, doing things and stuff

5/12 story is going from Britannia to Roma to help with the whole Apeshit Beast x 2 Thing, lots of playing messenger and story stuff on both sides, major meaty things happen here like fighting off Apeshit Beast x 2

1/12 is lead up and battle with Morgan Le Fay

1/12 is enjoying the fruits of your labor with Britannia before Morgan Le Fay closes the Singularity as she agrees to early on (given Ritsuka meets certain conditions which obviously they do)

Ritsuka defaults to siding with Britannia upon arriving in the Singularity due to meeting Arthur first and having Merlin along.

Morgan Le Fay is the Singularity’s creator and its “final boss.” She intended to keep this pocket of time and space to herself, and isolated it from others, but upon Chaldea showing up it was bridged with a larger timeline, causing the actions within this Singularity to be far more consequential than Morgan intended.

Mother Harlot and the Beast of Revelation appear together--when Nero Claudius dies, she is reborn as her “true self” and summons her Beast from the pits of hell to collapse the entire Singularity. Even when Mother Harlot is sequestered by the end of the Singularity, she is not truly “defeated.” She is instead disappeared, escaping beyond the Singularity. 

Arthur finally gets to kill the Beast of Revelation but gets hella Tokyo Grail War flashbacks. Oh, and because he’s fighting for Camelot he’s getting those flashbacks. Oh, AND because he’s now under Morgan and Lancelot and Guenivere have their own thing going on, he has to deal with that. Also his extremely angry son is here and out to get him. Whoops. Arthur is presumably the same Arthur from the Trial Quest wandering around on his search.

Merlin is Chaldea Merlin, and is not excited to get his ass kicked by Nimue or Morgan La Fey. He takes on a more serious role in this Singularity, but has hella banter with Sir Kay.

Galahad and Lancelot relationship development. Mash forced to interact with Galahad via comms.

Nero is Nero for about 1/3 of the Story but loses a major battle due to her own arrogance, which leads to her supporting cast and main characters on the Roma side distrusting her. She is poisoned by one of her own and resurrects as Mother Harlot. 

Mother Harlot rises to power and starts egregiously destroying Roma (which is what leads the Romans to turn on her altogether). Defeating the entire Roman Empire AND Mother Harlot AND Beast of Revelations at the same time is insurmountable, but you don’t have to, because the Roman Empire is also terrified of Mother Harlot. Morgan Le Fay agrees to a temporary cease fire with Roma, allowing them to handle their Beast problem. 

Tons of Roman character development, learning from how each of the leaders fights, following their trials and tribulations, really learning to respect their strengths. Because you brought Arthur with you here, who’s an “enemy” to them, but this Singularity is partly about learning to see eye-to-eye and work out problems in ways that don’t involve creating Singularities or killing people. 

Gaius/Cleopatra/Antony love triangle drama????

Nimue/Merlin/Morgan/Arthur/Guen/Lancelot love HEXAGON drama?!?!?!

You defeat Mother Harlot and the Beast, and then you challenge Morgan Le Fay as she promised. As the Lawful woman she chooses to close the Singularity and allow it to disintegrate after her defeat. Before that, though, she allows a full day of celebration for all the people of Camelot, in which she and the rest of the Britannia cast are able to make amends and come to peace with all they’ve done one last time.

[uneryx]

Payback

Based on all the meta going around about Soren and Rayla having a rad bromance, Callum gaining a ton of upper-body strength from flying everywhere and general Rayllum fluffiness.  So have a fic about Callum returning to the Storm Spire after a year of mage training, and how Rayla and Soren respectively welcome him back. Takes place about 3 years after Season 3, so Callum is just shy of 18, Rayla’s just shy of 19, and Soren is 22.  Enjoy!!

From the peak of the Storm Spire, Rayla scanned the horizon, tensely waiting for something.

“Whatcha looking for?” said a voice behind her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. In a flash, she drew her swords and pointed them at the throat of her assailant. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!!” said Soren, holding his hands up defensively and backing away.

Rayla relaxed. “Don’t sneak up on me, Soren, I’m not in the mood.”

“Why? Antsy because your boyyyyyyyyfriend is coming back today?” Soren leaned back with a sly grin.

Soren’s presence on the Storm Spire had initially made the rest of the Dragonguard nervous, but he was there on a diplomatic endeavor: a human Crownguard serving with the Dragonguard. His counterpart, a Sunfire elf named Yavuz, was stationed in Katolis. And after some time, the elves had come to realize that, while not the sharpest sword in the armory, Soren was really good at guarding things, and was pretty determined to prove he was nothing like his father. Plus, even Rayla couldn’t deny that he had his good points, and a strange friendship had blossomed between the two. 

Said friendship mostly consisted of trying to out-do each other with increasingly dangerous or ill-considered feats of bravery and strength, but it was friendship nonetheless.Still, just because they were bros now, that didn’t mean Soren got to tease her about Callum.

“Shut it,” she said with a glower, and returned to scanning the horizon. “He’s been gone a long time, I’m allowed to be nervous.”

“It’s been what, a year?” said Soren, sitting down beside her with a clank as he pulled an apple out of some hidden compartment in his armor.

“A year, yeah.” Rayla looked down. She had tried not to miss Callum too much, and hoped that wherever he was - Cloudvale, the Shrieking Shore, Mt. Adra - he pined for her as much as she had pined for him this long year. She’d received letters very regularly, with accounts of his adventures and drawings of what he’d seen, and she sent letters back with updates on Zym, life at the Storm Spire, her own training. But letters and drawings weren’t the same as seeing him; his wide smile, the soft look in those green eyes, the shiver that went down to her toes when he said her name. 

Soren bit into the fruit, and continued to speak with his mouth full. “Didn’t know mage training was so intense. Think he learned anything cool?”

“Probably. In his last letter, he said that he and Ibis had been chasing storms, trying to find a big one so he could make a primal stone.”

“Y’know, if you’d have told me three years ago that I’d be hanging out with the Dragon Queen and a bunch of elves, waiting for the step-prince to come flying in because he’s a sky mage and can turn his arms into wings? I’d have thought you were crazy.” Soren paused, thinking. “Actually I probably would have tried to kill you, since you’d have been a Moonshadow Elf in the castle, and since my job was to keep elves OUT of the castle--”

“I get what you mean,” said Rayla, cutting him off. And then, a speck in the distance - no, two specks. She tensed, watching the shapes draw in closer, hopeful but not certain.

“Whoa. Either those are really big birds, or that’s them,” said Soren, standing. 

Rayla did not consider herself to be particularly vain or fussy. She had a job to do, which was guarding the spire from threats. Her appearance was low on her priority list (aside from making sure her clan markings weren’t faded and she looked presentable). But now that Callum was approaching, she felt her pulse quickening and suddenly whether or not she looked cute mattered a whole heck of a lot. She fussed with her hair, and tugged at the edges of her uniform.

“Calm down, you look fine,” said Soren, noticing her jitters. He knew he wasn’t the most tactful or observant man out there, but he did have a little sister, and he wasn’t THAT dim. He ignored the pang of sadness at the thought of Claudia, and instead focused on Rayla’s worry. So what if she hadn’t seen Callum in a year? The guy was obnoxiously earnest and a big softie, she had nothing to worry about. And if Callum was a jerk, he’d throw him off the Storm Spire. Assuming Rayla didn’t first.

The shapes drew in closer, and it became apparent that it was two winged humanoids - Ibis and Callum. Rayla waved, excited but restrained, and one of the figures wheeled away from the other, diving lower down, heading for the landing outside the Queen’s chambers. 

Soren smirked. “I’m gonna go say hi to Ibis and let the Dragon Queen know they’re back,” he said, heading towards the stairs. “Don’t smooch him too hard!” He nimbly jogged away before Rayla could sock him. She scowled at Soren’s retreating form, but the frown vanished quickly as she looked up. 

Callum was drawing closer now, wide brown wings fanning out and tilting upwards as he brought himself in for a landing. His feet had barely touched the stone of the Spire’s pinnacle before Rayla rushed at him, almost tackling him with her embrace.

The mage prince laughed, and it may have been slightly deeper but it was still Callum’s laugh and it had been so long since she’d heard it. Soft feathers wrapped around her (to her delight, he had remembered that she loved his wing hugs), and she snuggled into his chest. “I missed you, you stupid human.”

“I missed you too,” he said warmly, the feathers fading and turning back into arms, before he yelped. “Ah, watch the horns!”

That was when Rayla noticed something was off. Her horn had indeed grazed his nose, and she had her face pressed into his neck, and the chest and arms around her were a lot more solid than she remembered… 

She backed up, and her eyes widened. Mage training had had quite the effect on him. To start, he’d hit a growth spurt. They’d been eye-to-eye when he left (her horns giving her a slight advantage on top of that), but now he was a few inches taller than her. But whatever, she’d seen his aunt, and apparently his mother had been tall as well, so she had figured that he’d end up taller than her once they were done with puberty. 

What she hadn’t expected was the changes in his physique.Below the waist, he was still fairly scrawny, although it was hard to tell with baggy pants he was wearing. From the waist up, he had gained quite a bit of muscle. His shoulders and chest were considerably broader, and while his arms weren’t the same kind of muscular as Ethari’s or Soren’s (men who spent their days swinging heavy metal objects around), there was lean definition there, similar to Ibis. 

Callum beamed at her, and stepped away from her embrace, digging into his bag. “I have something to show you, one sec.” With a flourish, he pulled an object from his satchel, and flipped open an impressively made staff, topped with a small blue primal stone. He posed, staff extended in one arm and the other hand on his hip, his gaze skyward, trying to look heroic and cool. He made a small aspiro rune and blew out the side of his mouth, causing his scarf to flap majestically in the breeze before giving her a grin. Still a major dork, then. An incredibly cut major dork.

Rayla swallowed, and tried to say something intelligent, only managing a flustered “um.” 

Callum glanced over at her, his smile fading.“Is… something wrong?” 

At his hurt puppy expression, Rayla felt the heat rise in her face. He was so damnably attractive, and so clearly happy to see her after all this time, and here she was, her tongue tied in knots because he’d gotten a little beefier. She stammered a bit, and then resorted to giving his bicep a squeeze.

He looked down at her hand, which trailed over to his chest, and understanding dawned on him. “Oh,” Callum said with a chuckle, “turns out flying everywhere is like doing push-ups for hours.” He smiled slyly, and flexed an arm. “You approve?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, running her finger down his arm, following the line of the runes. She was wondering what he looked like under the red tunic - elven made, since they’d been on the other side of the continent, of course, but still in Katolis red and gold. 

Callum tipped her chin up towards him, green meeting lavender, and his mouth quirked into a smile. And Rayla melted in his arms, diving forward and letting her mouth do what she’d spent all the days between dreaming of doing. She could have spent forever in that kiss, freewheeling through the sky that was him, but it wasn’t to be.

Another pair of strong arms wrapped around the two. “This is nice,” said Soren, hugging them both from behind Callum, smirking like the devil himself and leaning on the prince. A few more inches still hadn’t put Callum taller than Soren, much to Callum’s annoyance. 

“Hi, Soren,” he said flatly. “Your timing is terrible.”

Soren pulled away, beaming. “Uh, my timing is great, thank you. I was waiting just behind that rock for the right moment!”

“That’s weird,” said Rayla, folding her arms. 

“Whatever,” Soren sneered, and then spun Callum around to face him. “Time for a real hug!” He grabbed Callum, and squeezed hard, lifting him off the ground a little in a tight bear hug. Ever since that day before the battle, Soren had gotten it into his head that macho bro hugs was a thing he and Callum did, and a year apart wasn’t going to change that. Callum wheezed, frantically tapping Soren’s arm to let him go. 

Finally, he did. “Wow,” said Soren, eyeing Callum up and down. “If I had known all it took to get you to work out was to make it about nerdy magic stuff, I’d have made Claudia give you that primal stone years ago.” He grinned, and dropped to the ground into a plank, and looked up at Callum. “So let’s do this!”

Callum and Rayla exchanged confused glances. “Uh… do what?”

“Push-up contest! I want to see how many you can do now!”

“Soren, I just flew here from Cloudvale. My arms are tired.”

“Oh, so you’re still too puny to do push-ups with your good buddy Soren?” He smirked at Callum, raising an eyebrow. The taunt was obvious bait, which Callum took like a hungry fish. Glaring at Soren, he lowered himself into the ready position. At this, Soren beamed. “Hey Rayla, count us off!”

“Count yourself off,” she said, her voice coming from lower down than expected.

 The two boys looked over to see that she had also lowered herself into a ready position, planking effortlessly. “What?” she said at their befuddled looks. “You two really thought I was gonna sit here and let a couple of humans show me up?”

I’ll count,” said Callum with annoyance. He looked at Soren and then Rayla, who both nodded, and with a sigh, he counted. “One… two….”

He stopped looking to see what the others were doing after ten, and after 25, he felt a sudden weight on his back. Specifically, around 200 pounds of armored person, sitting on him. “Soren, why are you sitting on me?” 

His arms were shaking now, but with a small note of pride he did consider that he was managing to hold Soren and himself up. 

“Well, I was impressed that you got to 25 without breaking a sweat. And then I thought… payback time.” He shifted, bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged on Callum’s back. “I think you were on 26?”

Callum managed 26 and 27, before Soren roped Rayla into participating as well, and Callum collapsed on 28. At that, the competitive tension broke, and the three of them lay in a heap on top of the Storm Spire, laughing. 

Later that night, Soren found several dozen moon moths in his bed. Moon moths that someone who could fly had probably flown a little ways west to gather. The note on his pillow said “Payback.”

Well, if Callum wanted to engage in a prank war, then it was on. 

[hedwigstalons]

The Tracy Prize - part 14

My old laptop went to the electronics graveyard so I treated myself to a shiny new one.  Of course all writing ideas then vanished.

Have a bit of a fun and nonsense section while I work out how on earth to wrestle this fic to some sort of conclusion.

Here are the earlier parts for those that want to go back to the beginning: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13

xoxoxox

“Is it ready?”

 The low rumbling voice was quiet, a barely audible whisper in her ear.  It sent an illicit thrill tingling through her body.  There was no real need for the secrecy, Brains was deeply absorbed in his own project on the other side of the lab and had barely registered Virgil’s presence.

 Claire nodded.  She pointed the end of her pen at a small vial of colourless liquid on the back of her bench then continued scribbling in her notebook.  It had taken several attempts and some failed testing on herself in order to ensure the mix was right but she was satisfied the liquid would do its job.

“Good. Grandma has gone to the mainland for a couple of days.  I’ve checked in with John and there are no emergencies brewing.  Weather systems are quiet, volcanoes are peaceful and Langstrom Fischler is on his best behaviour at a family wedding.  The perfect night for a family dinner.”

 Virgil wandered off the claim the kitchen, leaving Claire to continue her work.

 Years of campfire cooking on family camping trips had given Virgil ample opportunities to hone his culinary skills for one-pot recipes.  With all the comforts of a well-equipped kitchen to hand he could knock up a chilli that would have his brothers salivating more than any fine dining could.  He knew that with this on offer no one would want to miss the meal.  

 He set to work chopping onions and tomatoes.  A special blend of spices was ground and mixed.  Soon the warm savoury aroma of good cooking began to permeate the house.  A smell that would develop and set stomachs rumbling as the chilli was left to simmer gently.

 First one resident then another wandered into the kitchen only to be swiftly evicted. Any brother attempting to dip a spoon into the pot for an early taste soon found themselves swatted away with a ladle.  Virgil was not going to let anyone spoil their appetites before the feast was ready.

 When the instruction was issued over the wrist comms that dinner was served it was as though the emergency alert had sounded.  Running footsteps sounded around the complex as everyone hurried to claim a place at the table.  Only Brains and Claire arrived at a more sedate pace.  

 Once everyone was seated Virgil started to carry across huge steaming pots of chilli, rice and a large tray of salty nachos to the table.

 “Claire, before you sit down would you mind giving me a hand?”  He indicated a tray of water glasses ready filled for distribution.

 Claire nodded and headed over to the counter.  With her back to the assembled diners she put a few drops of liquid from the vial into one of the water glasses then slipped the vial back into her pocket. Turning back to the table she then carefully handed out the drinks, making sure that one particular fish brother received the correct glass.

 Ladles were dipped into pots and plates were filled.  Virgil and Claire caught each other’s eye and smirked slightly as Gordon took a swig of his water while waiting for his turn with the serving spoons.

 Everyone began tucking in.

 Everyone except Gordon.

 The first mouthful of chilli had him coughing and turning slightly purple.  Scott looked at him with concern.

 “Just went down the wrong way” he croaked.

 The second mouthful burnt his tongue and the third had him breaking out in a sweat.

 “What’s the matter Gordon?  You don’t look too well.”

 Trust Scott to pick up on his discomfort.  He was starving and all he wanted to do was wolf down what was normally one of his favourite meals but the concoction in front of him was barely palatable.

 “I’m fine” he muttered.  “It’s just a bit too spicy tonight.”

 Now more than just Scott was looking at him with concern.  If anything Virgil’s chilli was on the milder aromatic side of the spice spectrum, something Gordon had been known to tease his older brother about on occasion.

 “You sure you’re eating the same meal as the rest of us?” asked Scott.

 Alan reached over and shovelled a large mouthful off of Gordon’s plate.  “Nothing wrong with the food.  Gordon’s just being a wuss” he announced.

 Everyone resumed eating but Scott kept a careful eye on the aquanaut, worried in case his brother was sickening for something.

 He wasn’t the only one keeping watch; Claire and Virgil shared a satisfied smirk.

 Gordon’s stomach growled.  He had been waiting for this all afternoon and now, for some reason, his portion was inedible.  Yet everyone else around him tucking in happily having been served from the same pot.  He nibbled at his rice and was pleased to find that he could eat that without a hitch.

 Having been denied the chilli Gordon turned his attention to the nachos.  As he popped the first crisp into his mouth it was as though his tongue had been dragged across a salt lick.  He hurriedly swirled more of his water round his mouth in an effort to take taste away.

 He was now feeling thoroughly miserable. He picked at his rice, the only thing he could manage to eat.  Plain boiled rice did not make for a satisfying meal.

 With the main course over Virgil cleared the table to make room for dessert.  Tubs of lemon sorbet were brought out of the freezer and placed on the table.

 “Hey, how come Scott gets his favourite?” Alan grumbled.

 “If you bothered to help out when the supplies need ordering you might be able to pop a few of your own favourites on the shopping list” Virgil admonished, leaving Alan looking a little shamefaced.  The youngest of the clan had got very adept at making himself scarce when there were household chores to be done.  “And anyway, the lemon will be a nice palate cleanser after the chilli.”

 It was with some trepidation that Gordon picked up his dessert spoon.  He took a nervous sip of water before taking a bite of the frozen pudding.

 He nearly went cross eyed as he received an intense sour hit.  His cheeks were sucked in and his tongue felt like it had cramp.  He threw down his spoon with a clatter.

 “Gordon, what the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Kayo snapped.  “Virgil spent hours cooking and you are acting like someone is trying to poison you.”

 Gordon was now thoroughly bewildered.  He looked around the table and his eyes lit upon Virgil and Claire who were both trying to stifle a laugh.

 “I don’t know.  But those two sure do.”  He pointed across the table as he made his accusation.  “I don’t know how, but those two are responsible.”

 Scott followed his brother’s pointing finger.  He couldn’t see how Virgil and Claire could have done anything, they had all eaten from the same pots and served themselves, but he knew his brothers and Virgil was definitely looking guilty.

 “Spill” he commanded.  “What have you done to Gordon?”

 Claire and Virgil shared a look.  It was time to confess.  Claire put her hand into her pocket, withdrew the glass vial, and placed it on the table.

 “What is that and is Gordon going to be ok?” there was a definite threat in the question.

 Virgil placed himself in the firing line.  “It’s perfectly harmless.  It just overstimulates your taste buds and makes them hyper-sensitive.  The effects wear off over time.”

 Claire nodded.  “I’ve tested it on myself a few times, you’ll live.”

 Gordon breathed a sigh of relief.  It explained why he was only able to stomach the plain rice.

 “And how much longer of this do I have to put up with?” he grumbled, taking another sip of water.

 “Well it lasts for about two hours after the last dose.  Which means…” Virgil looked theatrically at his watch, then at the glass that Gordon was still holding, “you have about one hour, fifty-nine minutes and thirty seconds left to go.  You have been dosing yourself nicely all evening.”

 “Why, Virgil?”  Scott knew the engineer was not one to act unprovoked and this was likely therefore to be an act of retaliation.  

 “Call it payback for his little chat with Auntie Val.  And he called Two a lumbering bus.  No one gets away with insulting my ‘bird” he pouted.

 Scott rolled his eyes.  These pranks between brothers were common enough and as long a no serious damage was done he generally found it was better to let things run their course.  

 He had to admit he was more than a little surprised that Claire had been a participant in tonight’s entertainment.  From what he had seen she was dedicated to her work.  If anything, too dedicated.  Before tonight he had been worried that she wasn’t really integrating with the family.  Now he was just relieved that, with her chemical talents, she had teamed up with Virgil rather than Gordon or Alan.

 For some people revenge is a dish best served cold.  For Virgil and Claire it was a dish best served spicy, salty and sour.

[bellboy905]

Trump now fancies himself a “wartime president.” How is his war going? By the end of March, the coronavirus had killed more Americans than the 9/11 attacks. By the first weekend in April, the virus had killed more Americans than any single battle of the Civil War... On the present trajectory, it will kill, by late April, more Americans than Vietnam. Having earlier promised that casualties could be held near zero, Trump now claims he will have done a “very good job” if the toll is held below 200,000 dead.

[...]

That the pandemic occurred is not Trump’s fault. The utter unpreparedness of the United States for a pandemic is Trump’s fault. The loss of stockpiled respirators to breakage because the federal government let maintenance contracts lapse in 2018 is Trump’s fault. The failure to store sufficient protective medical gear in the national arsenal is Trump’s fault. That states are bidding against other states for equipment... is Trump’s fault. Air travelers summoned home and forced to stand for hours in dense airport crowds alongside infected people? That was Trump’s fault too. Ten weeks of insisting that the coronavirus is a harmless flu that would miraculously go away on its own? Trump’s fault again. 

[...]

For three years, Trump has blathered and bluffed and bullied his way through an office for which he is utterly inadequate. But sooner or later, every president must face a supreme test... that cannot be evaded by blather and bluff and bullying. That test has overwhelmed Trump... He is failing. He will continue to fail. And Americans are paying for his failures.

The coronavirus emerged in China in late December. The Trump administration received its first formal notification of the outbreak on January 3. The first... person known to have succumbed to COVID-19... in the United States died on February 29. The 100th died on March 17. By March 20, New York City alone had confirmed 5,600 cases. Not until March 21, the day the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services placed its first large-scale order for N95 masks, did the White House begin marshaling a national supply chain to meet the threat in earnest. 

[...]

Those were the weeks when testing hardly happened, because there were no kits. Those were the weeks when tracing hardly happened, because there was little testing. Those were the weeks when isolation did not happen, because the president and his administration insisted that the virus was under control. Those were the weeks when supplies were not ordered, because nobody in the White House was home to order them. Those lost weeks placed the United States on the path to the worst outbreak of the coronavirus in the developed world.

[...]

Through the early weeks of the pandemic, when so much death and suffering could still have been prevented or mitigated, Trump... made two big wagers. He bet that the virus could somehow be prevented from entering the United States by travel restrictions. And he bet that, to the extent that the virus had already entered the United States, it would burn off as the weather warmed. Those two assumptions led him to conclude that not much else needed to be done. 

[...]

On January 18, Trump (on a golf excursion in Palm Beach, Florida) cut off his health secretary’s telephoned warning of gathering danger to launch into a lecture about vaping... Two days later, the first documented U.S. case was confirmed... Yet even at that late hour, Trump continued to think of the coronavirus as something external to the United States... In a January 22 interview with CNBC’s Squawk Box, he promised:

We have it totally under control. It’s one person coming in from China. We have it under control. It’s going to be just fine.

Trump would later complain that he had been deceived by the Chinese. “I wish they could have told us earlier about what was going on inside,” he said on March 21. “We didn’t know about it until it started coming out publicly.”

If Trump truly was so trustingly ignorant as late as January 22, the fault was again his own. The Trump administration had cut U.S. public-health staff operating inside China... from 47 in January 2017 to 14 by 2019, an important reason it found itself dependent on less-accurate information from the World Health Organization. In July 2019, the Trump administration defunded the position that embedded an epidemiologist inside China’s own disease-control administration, again obstructing the flow of information to the United States.

[...]

On January 31, the Trump administration at last did something: it announced restrictions on air travel to and from China by non-U.S. persons. This... has become Trump’s most commonly proffered defense of his actions. “We’ve done an incredible job because we closed early,” Trump said on February 27. “We closed those borders very early, against the advice of a lot of professionals, and we turned out to be right. I took a lot of heat for that,” he repeated on March 4. 

[...]

Because Trump puts so much emphasis on this point, it’s important to stress that none of this is true. Trump did not close the borders early. In fact, he did not truly close them at all... The ban applied only to foreign nationals who had been in China during the previous 14 days, and included 11 categories of exceptions. Since the restrictions took effect, nearly 40,000 passengers have entered the United States from China, subjected to inconsistent screenings.

[...]

A few days after the restrictions went into effect... Trump’s impeachment trial ended with his acquittal in the Senate. The president, though, turned his energy not to... the virus, but to the demands of his own ego. The president’s top priority through February... was to exact retribution from truth-tellers in the impeachment fight... Late on the evening of April 3, Trump fired... Michael Atkinson, the official who had forwarded the Ukraine whistleblower complaint to the House and Senate Intelligence Committees, as the law required. 

[...]

Intentionally or not, Trump’s campaign of payback against his perceived enemies in the impeachment battle sent a warning to public-health officials: keep your mouth shut. If anybody missed the message, the firing of Captain Brett Crozier... for speaking honestly about the danger facing his sailors was a reminder... The president’s lies must not be contradicted. And because the president’s lies change constantly, it’s impossible to predict what might contradict him.

[...]

Throughout the crisis, the top priority of the president, and of everyone who works for the president, has been the protection of his ego. Americans have become sadly used to Trump’s blustery self-praise and his insatiable appetite for flattery. During the pandemic, this psychological deformity mutated into a deadly strategic vulnerability for the United States.

For three-quarters of his presidency, Trump has taken credit for the economic expansion that began under... Barack Obama in 2010. That expansion accelerated in 2014, just in time to deliver real prosperity over the past three years. The harm done by Trump’s own initiatives, and especially his trade wars, was masked by that continued growth. The economy Trump inherited became his all-purpose answer to his critics. Did he break laws, corrupt the Treasury, appoint cronies, and tell lies? So what? Unemployment was down, the stock market up.

Suddenly, in 2020, the rooster that had taken credit for the sunrise faced the reality of sunset. He could not bear it.

Underneath all the denial and self-congratulation, Trump seems to have glimpsed the truth. The clearest statement of that knowledge was expressed on February 28... at a rally in South Carolina... Somebody in his orbit seemed to already be projecting 35,000 to 40,000 deaths from the coronavirus... and his answer to that estimate was, “So far, we have lost nobody.” He conceded, “That doesn’t mean we won’t.” But he returned to his happy talk. “We are totally prepared.” And as always, it was the media's fault. “You hear 35 and 40,000 people and we’ve lost nobody and you wonder, the press is in hysteria mode.”

By February 28, it was too late to exclude the coronavirus from the United States. It was too late to test and trace, to isolate the first cases and halt their further spread... It was too late to refill the stockpiles that the Republican Congresses of the Tea Party years had refused to replenish, despite frantic pleas from the Obama administration. It was too late to produce sufficient ventilators in sufficient time.

But... it was still not too late to arrange an orderly distribution of medical supplies to the states, not too late to coordinate with U.S. allies, not too late to close the Florida beaches before spring break, not too late to bring passengers home from cruise lines, not too late to ensure that state unemployment-insurance offices were staffed and ready, not too late for local governments to get funds to food banks, not too late to begin social distancing fast and early. Stay-at-home orders could have been put into effect on March 1, not in late March and early April.

So much time had been wasted by the end of February. So many opportunities had been squandered. But even then, the shock could have been limited. Instead, Trump and his inner circle plunged deeper into two weeks of lies and denial, both about the disease and about the economy... As late as March 9, Trump was still arguing that the coronavirus would be no worse than the seasonal flu... But the facade of denial was already cracking... The overwhelmed president responded by doing what comes most naturally to him at moments of trouble: he shifted the blame to others.

The lack of testing equipment? On March 13, Trump passed that buck to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Obama administration. The White House had dissolved the directorate of the National Security Council responsible for planning for and responding to pandemics? Not me, Trump said... Maybe somebody else in the administration did it, but... “I don’t know anything about it.” Were ventilators desperately scarce? Obtaining medical equipment was the governors’ job... Did Trump delay action until it was far too late? That was the fault of the Chinese government for withholding information... On March 27, Trump attributed his own broken promises about ventilator production to General Motors... Masks, gowns, and gloves were running short only because hospital staff were stealing them, Trump suggested on March 29... Were New Yorkers dying? On April 2, Trump fired off a peevish letter to Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer: 

If you spent less time on your ridiculous impeachment hoax, which went haplessly on forever and ended up going nowhere (except increasing my poll numbers), and instead focused on helping the people of New York, then New York would not have been so completely unprepared for the “invisible enemy.”

Trump’s instinct to dodge and blame had devastating consequences for Americans. Every governor and mayor who needed the federal government to take action, every science and medical adviser who hoped to prevent Trump from doing something stupid or crazy, had to reckon with Trump’s psychic needs as their single biggest problem.

[...]

The federal response has been dogged by suspicions of favoritism for political and personal allies of Trump. The District of Columbia has seen its requests denied, while Florida gets everything it asks for. The weeks of... denial and delay have triggered a desperate scramble among states. The Trump administration is allocating some supplies through the Federal Emergency Management Agency, but has made the deliberate choice to allow large volumes of crucial supplies to continue to be distributed by commercial firms to their clients... In his panic, Trump is sacrificing U.S. alliances abroad, attempting to recoup his own failure by turning predator. German and French officials accuse the Trump administration of diverting supplies they had purchased to the United States. On April 3, the North American company 3M publicly rebuked the Trump administration for its attempt to embargo medical exports to Canada, where 3M has operated seven facilities for 70 years. Around the world, allies are registering that in an emergency, when it matters most, the United States has utterly failed to lead.

[...]

As the pandemic kills, as the economic depression tightens its grip, Donald Trump has consistently put his own needs first... He has never tried to be president of the whole United States, but at most 46 percent of it, to the extent that serving even the 46 percent has been consistent with his supreme concerns: stealing, loafing, and whining. Now he is not even serving the 46 percent. The people most victimized by his lies and fantasies are the people who trusted him... who harmed themselves to prove their loyalty to Trump. 

[...]

In the past, Americans could at least expect public spirit and civic concern from their presidents. Trump has mouthed the slogan “America first,” but he has never acted on it. It has always been “Trump first.” His business first. His excuses first. His pathetic vanity first.

[...]

He has taken so much that does not belong to him, that was unethical and even illegal for him to take. But responsibility? No, he will not take that. Yet responsibility falls upon Trump, whether he takes it or not. No matter how much he deflects and insults and snivels and whines, this American catastrophe is on his hands and on his head.

[psyga315]

Rewriting a Mykan fanfic: Hate of the Sea

I don’t have a hatred towards Dakari King Mykan and I don’t think he’d want any pity. When he isn’t guided by biases or how he wanted something to end, he can write decent stories. No blockbusters but definitely not bad.

However, that’s the problem with Mykan. He views life in a way that’s so cynical, that even I, a guy who has quite a lot of cynical fanfics up his sleeve (including some rewrites that are darker than the shows they try to fix), reel in disgust. Mykan is a guy who goes out of his way to make a character from My Little Pony have a miscarriage because he didn’t like how she represents love. And that was just the one of two options people got to vote for. The other was killing off her husband for that exact same reason. The lightest story he wrote that I read was about a down-on-his-luck character-of-the-week from Inuyasha ends up getting together with the woman he loved.

So, I decided to use my slightly optimistic approach to stories to write up an alternate take on Mykan’s story: Hate of the Sea, a Little Mermaid fanfic where Mykan’s intent was to give Ariel and Melody a lesson about the real world, that not everything has a happy ever after ending… And I’m not sure if he’s read up on how the original Little Mermaid ended.

First off, let’s change that theme. We’ll still teach Ariel and Melody a lesson about the real world, but a lot less cynical: the cycle of revenge. Yes, yes, roll your eyes, but before Neil Druckmann destroyed that message to hell and back (along with some unpaid employees), the tale of someone wanting revenge and the pain of actually going through with it is an interesting tale that has multiple outcomes depending on your outlook. Do you want to be a cynic and show how revenge can make someone as ugly as the person who wronged them in the first place? An optimist who wants to show a more peace filled solution to the conflict? Someone who just wants someone to say “payback is a bitch” and leave it at that? Or are you a middle-of-the-road guy who observes the theme and stretches it out to its logical conclusion?

And, best part is, the ground work is already laid out for us. If you can, read Hate of the Sea to see what I’m talking about. You’ll get a better idea of where I’m going with this. For now, though, let’s start at the beginning. Things stay relatively the same, with a throwaway line about how Tip and Dash, Melody’s sidekicks in Little Mermaid 2, returned to the arctic because it’s summer time. The immediate change will be Count Aquis’s minions: Electricon and Angelicon.

A slight change though, making them more mystical than the sudden technological shift, to better tie in with the mythos of the Little Mermaid, so no piranha missiles. Also, I’d probably rename them because they’re honestly generic (and would be better for Transformer faction names anyways) but the best I can think of is Eelektross for Electricon and I think that’s already taken. Think I’ll go with Uma for the Angel monster and Leech for the Eel.

The biggest change, though, comes in Count Aquis. I’ll give more details later, but the long story short of it is that he’s looking for Melody. We don’t know this at first, instead having him vaguely saying “where is she” and giving the wrong memo that he meant Ariel. The group is successful in sacking a town and capturing mermaids. They leave the mermen and other sea creatures be. Upon seeing Triton, he has it out for him and tries to kill him, only for Flounder to take the blow.

Flounder retreats to the surface to warn Ariel of her impending danger while Triton faces Aquis off, leaving his fate unknown. Melody’s interactions with Samuel stays the same. Scuttle comes by later that night to deliver an injured Flounder who warns that there’s a terrible threat in the ocean that’s looking for Ariel. The first conclusion they reach is that it’s someone with a connection to Ursula, given the last person who gave them trouble was her sister, but Flounder gives them a description of the man and even says how his hate seems to know no bounds… He then passes away, signifying that this is serious business. Ariel mourns for her closest friend as Eric and Melody comfort her.

Cut to Aquis, where I don’t change a lot of what happens. I think increase the bickering between Leech and Uma and showcase their characteristics a bit more. I kinda see a Sidorak and Roodaka (from Bionicle) relationship between them where Leech is the brawn who thinks he’s top of the world and Uma is the brains who seeks Aquis’s sole approval, though that’s probably because I recently seen a review of Web of Shadows and thought Roodaka was a cool villain. That or increase the Jindrax/Toxica relation and have them bicker, yes, but still show how much of good friends they are.

Either way, Aquis cares not. He wants Melody no matter what. We also see his sea-mutants, horrific mishmashes of sea creatures (If you played Impossible Creatures, you’ll have some idea of what I mean), and how little he cares of them, as he eats a shrimp-jellyfish hybrid right in front of Leech and Uma to emphasize what kind of punishment they would receive should they fail him. They go on their way as Aquis looks at the amulet he has… and cries.

As before, Melody’s interactions with Samuel are the same, but Samuel’s discussion about his master is changed. Instead, he reveals that he was adopted by a person and is considered to be a father to him. Basically, he doesn’t have the “used to be a street rat until Aquis found me and paid me to do his dirty work”. This adds a little more mystery to who the “Surface Agent” is. Another thing to note is that Samuel was orphaned as a baby in a shipwreck and, eerily enough, he’s about a year or so older than Melody, which causes the people who’ve seen the Little Mermaid to go “ooooooooh nooooo…”

Instead of coming across Leech and Uma, Samuel comes across a new person: Professor Aquarius, his adoptive father. At first, Samuel is excited about the new girl he met and how he’s in love. Aquarius seems to be proud of him until he says that her name is Melody. Aquarius then scowls, but doesn’t say anything. Last thing he wants is to invoke Romeo and Juliet on his son. Instead, he encourages him to keep hanging out with Melody, even giving him a pat on the back, which turns out to be a leech-dolphin hybrid that latches onto the nape of his neck and emits sonar for him to sense.

To confirm who he is, Aquarius feels his skin drying up as he gasps for air. He then runs to an already filled tub and slams his head into it, his face shedding any human features in trade for the more ferocious looking face of Count Aquis. The next chapter opens with Aquis returning to his lair, with Uma asking if he managed to find the girl. He says yes, but they need to wait for the right time. Uma asks if Aquis loves the surface so much that he would abandon his mission. She sings a song to the tune of the Reversed Song of Healing (The notes will be reversed, meaning it’d be preformed without the song actually going backwards, if that makes sense) that reminds him of years gone by.

At this same time, this is where we get the info dump on who Professor Aquarius was from Eric, who learned of him when he was a kid. While Aquarius was denounced as a madman for concluding his research in intelligent life in the sea with “there’s mermaids!”, he managed to hook up with an idealist whose mind was wide open and they went sailing in search for the mermaids, vowing to find a way to live underwater so that drowning wouldn’t be a fate.

However, as Eric says how they disappeared off the face of the earth, the song becomes a harsh, oceanic operetta where we see a flashback to Aquarius and his wife, who is holding a newly born baby, braving through a storm. Flashes of lightning shows a silhouette of a figure emerging from the water with a strong glow. Then, lightning hits the ship, destroying it and separating Aquarius from his wife and daughter. We see the wife land, only to see the mast fall on top of her (with that traditional Disney cut away to show Aquarius’s reaction). The baby ends up being swept in the sea as Aquarius falls ever deeper in the midnight sea…

It then cuts to Aquis’s crying face as he wipes his tears. Uma lets Aquis mourn in peace and solidify his feelings for revenge. She then goes to Leech, who is annoyed and asks “how much longer do we need to put up with that crybaby?” To which she responds: “patience, he’ll get what we need soon enough and then…”, and, as a cruel call back, she too eats a shrimp-jellyfish to show what she means. They then hear metal break and they go to investigate it.

Eric decides to break the tension by asking Melody how the date went, much to her embarrassment. However, before they could discuss any further, they hear a cry for help and immediately go despite the clear warning against going into the sea. There, they see a woman trying to escape the clutches of Leech and Uma. Ariel and Melody manage to get them away, with Sebastian having in on the action.

“Dat one’z for Flounda, ye beeches!” as he snips on Leech’s tail.

They rescue the woman and bring her to safety. They find out her name is Atta and that she was imprisoned with members of a resistance force who had been fighting Aquis for twenty years. She explains more about who Aquis is and why he didn’t intervene during Little Mermaids 1, 2, 3, and the show (long story short, the resistance kept Aquis busy and his goals would conflict with the Octo-sisters and Marina anyways), and also tells Ariel that Triton’s alive and is recovering at her place. Ariel wants to go, but Eric tries to stop her, saying that they barely made it out of fighting Leech and Uma alive and that it would be safer if they remained on dry land.

Melody, however, insists. Samuel gets involved as well, and he joins the party. Instead of a pill that turns Eric and Samuel into the N64 Zora, it’d be a magic amulet that Triton had been crafting ever since Melody destroyed the wall and reunited humanity with mermanity. Atta leads them to the resistance HQ known as Sanctuary and red flags blare up when she insists no one tell anyone where it is.

Triton and Ariel reunite, though not without bringing up how Flounder died. Triton is a bit remorseful, but we don’t know why. Likewise, Samuel looks to be intimidated by Triton’s presence, something that Melody notices. She just assumes it’s because Triton has a six pack or some other silly reason. Triton then explains what he knows of Aquis, or rather, his master, Oceanus.

Oceanus was a Titan who dueled with Triton’s father, Poseidon and the battle rendered the seas blood red (hence the Red Sea) and they had no means to defeat Oceanus. So, they used a planetary alignment of every planet up to Saturn to open up a gate to Tartarus and seal Oceanus up. Keen-eyed viewers will note that the bars have been broken and they had to fix it, reflecting how this took place after Hercules.

As far as Triton’s concerned, Oceanus is still sealed up, but he has an idea on who Aquis is… He says that he might be Oceanus’s prophet. Someone who lives only to serve Oceanus. Later on, Melody and Samuel chat and while Samuel doesn’t say much, what he does say solidifies their love for each other. As Melody goes to talk with her parents, Uma and Leech tell him that he needs to break the barrier. As Samuel refuses, the leech begins to dig deep into his neck and the blood begins to attract sharks. Uma reveals through this that she’s the one who is able to mutate the creatures to be hybrids. Leech wraps himself around Samuel and tells him flat out that if he doesn’t do as they say, he’s dead.

Samuel is forced to go to his chagrin. Meanwhile, Atta talks with Ariel about the struggles of being a mother, to which Atta replies that she has no family, or any memory of one. All she does is serve the resistance. Up to the betrayal, it plays out normally. The only change would be Samuel trying to say why he was afraid of Triton, only for Aquis emerges to capture Melody. She begs Samuel to help her, but Samuel frowns.

“You did well, son.” Aquis pats Samuel on the back and tells Melody that he was the one who rescued him from the storm. When Melody asks if he’s lying, Samuel confirms, then grips his fists.

“This was all… for what your grandfather took from me that night!” Samuel said as Melody is knocked unconscious. She then wakes up in a cell where Samuel sees her as they have a rather sad duet about how Samuel could never be part of any world, not because he backstabs people, but because he does it out of the hatred in his heart. Out of spite. The sad thing is, he’s painfully aware of it and knows that what he has to do next will destroy his bond with Melody: avenge his parents by killing Triton.

Back at the Sanctuary, it gets invaded by Leech and Uma in an attempt to crush them. They succeed and take them prisoner, including Ariel and co. Samuel awaits in a chamber with Aquis and asks why they must harm Melody. Aquis then explains how Melody is a product of true love and that destroying it would cause even the cosmos to despair and lend its energy to Oceanus. Samuel frowns before Aquis reminds him that Triton brought this onto himself.

Because Eric is captured too, we cut a large chunk out that I felt was unneeded. So, Eric wakes up with the rest as Aquis comes in. This is the first time he sees Aquis. He also sees Melody on an altar and puts two and two together, demanding that Aquis lets her go and even offering to take her place. Aquis wants none of this and seaweeds his mouth shut. He then explains that he’ll sacrifice Melody to Oceanus and destroy the entire sea level. Eric bites through the seaweed and demands to know who Aquis is.

Aquis takes off his mask as we see a gillman version of Aquarius with pointed teeth. They all retch at his form, even Samuel, as he explains that he would have died during the storm if it wasn’t for Oceanus offering a helping hand. In trade for servitude, Oceanus would give him the means to conduct revenge. He then forces Triton to confess. Triton frowns and we get another view of that operetta where we see the man with the glowing power was actually Triton.

Ariel wonders why he would do such a thing, to which Triton confessed that he was grieving for Athena, his wife, and wanted revenge and so killed any humans who would dare swim over Alantica. He mellowed out when Ariel met Eric, obviously, but that’s when Samuel calls him out. This is the first time Eric and Ariel see Samuel on the villain’s side, but as soon as he brings up his pain, they understand.

“ADMIT IT! YOU KILLED MY PARENTS TOO! YOUR XENOPHOBIC FERVOR RUINED MY LIFE!” Samuel cries out.

“… Yes… I did it. It’s all my fault. I’m the reason your parents are killed… Please, if it satisfies you… Kill me instead. Oceanus would be pleased to know the blood of Poseidon’s only son will sate his thirst than a granddaughter.” He accepts his fate…

But Aquis wants none of it. He tells Samuel to kill Melody and let her blood attract Oceanus out of prison while the eclipse is about to begin. Samuel looks over Melody, who defiantly stares at him, as though goading him to do it. Samuel cries and says “I’m sorry”…

Before impaling Aquis with his dagger. He says that he’ll take up Triton’s offer and frees Melody. Melody, however, attacks Samuel and the two struggle over the dagger. Ariel is moved to tears at seeing what would have been lovers driven to try and kill each other. We’re not gonna make it too violent, just grabbing each other and tussling around.

Uma and Leech come in to Aquis’s aid, or rather, to kill the mermen (and Eric), but as soon as Uma sees Ariel, she takes the time to gloat about how her happily ever after will be a happily never after. Melody warns Ariel of her mutant controlling powers and Eric manages to deck her in the face. Triton recognizes Uma’s witchery and calls her out for learning under Ursula. Uma laughs… Ursula isn’t her teacher. She’s her mother.

Eric’s like “let me guess, you want revenge too?”, but then she laughs. She never knew her mother personally and in order to have hate, you would need to know what love is. She only wants to bring Oceanus back so that she can do what her family failed to do long ago: rule the ocean. While this is going on, Melody gets the upper hand and holds the dagger over Samuel’s neck… She struggles… then drops the dagger and cries. She doesn’t want to kill her first love. She lets Samuel go after tossing the dagger away and Samuel has no idea what to do…

He then sees Uma approach the trident that had been locked up and takes it for herself, smiling at the fact that she’ll be the third member of her family to wield the power to shape the oceans as she sees fit… As she uses it to cause lightning storms, Samuel has flashbacks to when he was a baby. His family was caught in a rough storm and one thing he remembers was a large silhouette of a creature with many tendrils holding the Trident.

Those same tendrils emerge from Uma as she uses the Trident. He began to draw his conclusion and, in a rage, tackles Uma to the ground, knocking her and causing the Trident to hit Leech. Leech has a dumb muscle moment where he goes “I don’t feel so good…” before fading away. Uma sees Leech disappear and is distraught. She then glares at Samuel and tries to kill him, only for his fist to punch her face.

“YOU DID IT?! DIDN’T YOU!? YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!” Samuel shouted. Melody pulls him away as Uma gets up. Now she’s lusting for revenge. Aquis, however, gets up and is armed with the Trident. Samuel quickly breaks the group out and now we get a free-for-all, but, without the trident, they can’t win. Atta gets close to killing him… But then notices something familiar. She remembers a man over her crib, singing a lullaby version of Under The Sea. The man? Aquarius.

“Dad?” She asks. Aquarius is confused… She then recites the song. Sebastian just gives the dude the stink eye and goes “dood, ya reep aff mah sheet, mon?” Aquarius remembers his own daughter and holds her tightly. Atta then remembers what happened that night. As she sank to the ocean, Triton managed to save her life and, believing her life would be better off as a mermaid, turned her into one.

Aquarius is both mad and glad at Triton for saving his daughter. He had no idea how to react… Nor will he have the chance as Uma claws into Aquarius.

“You took away the one thing I cherished in this cesspool of an ocean… Now… I take away your lives!” She then causes him to bleed profusely, the blood being used to summon Oceanus. Oceanus takes over the body of Aquis and he has a tentaclelike aura kinda like Ashitaka’s arm from Princess Mononoke, just to emphasize the theme of hate. And, like before, Oceanus eats Uma to boost his powers.

The final battle commences like normal, except that Aquarius’s actions are “be a monster”. Samuel and Melody manage to impale the possessed Aquis and, as Oceanus began to retreat, Triton zaps him with the Trident, rendering the weakened Titan into nothing but sea foam. The oceans are returned to normal.

The final chapter is where things are completely different. Aquarius lays dying from his wound. Triton approaches Aquarius and apologizes for his crimes. Aquarius smiles and says how he managed to do good in his xenophobic rage… He then pleads to Triton to take care of Atta for him before he dies. Atta grieves for her father, but doesn’t let it turn into rage. She instead asks Triton to make her a human so that she could live where her father once lived, to be a part of his world.

He complies, makes her human, and then goes to Samuel, who feels conflicted with the whole ordeal, asking Triton what actually happened that night. Triton mentions Uma’s mother, Ursula, and how she terrorized the ocean for a brief while. As far as he was concerned, the ship he was on was completely wrecked and there were no survivors. When he said it was his fault, he refers to how she managed to get the Trident in the first place: through manipulating Ariel who had been criminally neglected. Samuel looks over to Aquarius and mourns him, saying how he was a father when he had none and now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left to look forward to.

Atta offers a home with her, saying they’ll pick up the pieces together. Samuel jumps on the offer, then goes to Melody, apologizing for the betrayal and nearly killing her grandfather. She does the one thing he has no idea how to react to: She forgives him. She forgives Aquis. And like that, the cycle of revenge ends… But… For someone who all their life had knew nothing but hate of the sea… That’s not enough.

He apologizes to Melody, but even though he’s forgiven by her, he still can’t forgive himself, especially with his feelings towards Triton not going away any time soon. So, he departs with Atta, much to Melody’s sadness, but the overall note is that, once he’s gotten over himself, he’ll reunite with her, as we see a year later where he return to Melody, a better man now.

We end with the two sharing a kiss as we zoom out to the ocean, ending the Little Mermaid 4: Hate of the Sea and the overall moral being that revenge is a painful cycle and it only ends with forgiveness.

[thatsabae]

Payback - Jungkook | Chapter 8

genre: romance/comedy/friends-to-lovers

summary: “Revenge is sweet”, that’s what they say, and your plan is to find out if that statement is true. After finding out about your boyfriend’s infidelity, you seek after his lover’s boyfriend, cause mama always told you that sweets are better when shared. But first, you need to convince him to join you.

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8 | chapter 9 | chapter 10 | chapter 11 | final

Jungkook: Sorry, I didn’t check my phone earlier! [received: 10:38 a.m.]

Jungkook: The party went fine. Better than expected ;) [received: 10:38 a.m.]

Jungkook: I’m still here, helping [received: 10:41 a.m.]

Jungkook: If want, come around and we can have lunch tgt! [received: 10:42 a.m.] 

You feel anxious, looking at the yellow house in front of you. The night before was so easy to open and enter, then cause a scene, but right now, with its door wide open, it was hard to take another step. 

But you couldn’t really understand why. Your heart was beating so fast in your ribcage, your mouth was dry. Could it be because of Jungkook? 

Of course, it was. Why lie to yourself when you couldn’t even lie better? 

You wanted to see him. It didn’t matter if it was only to help them cleaning house after that crowded party, you just had this feeling. The feeling you get when you start a romance with someone, the excitement. The cab driver was probably right. You were falling for Jungkook. 

That would explain why so many emotions were going thought your heart while waiting outside Jin’s house. Shyness, anxiety, fear, self-consciousness. 

And that kiss… How should you act? 

“Oh, hey!” Jimin, the guy from yesterday, sees you standing there, like a fool, while he’s taking the garbage bag out. “Y/N, right?” 

“That’s right, Jimin.” You give him a smile. Did he see you standing there for so long? You felt yourself blushing.

“You’re coming in?” He passes you, taking the garbage bag to its place, on the sidewalk. You wait for him to come back before answering. 

“I guess. Jungkook is busy?” 

“As if. He’s lazy and hangover” He shares a big and warm smile. “You came alone?” 

You nod and notices the way he’s staring at you. 

“I see…” 

You start feeling weird with the way he’s looking at you. Almost like judging. You wonder how much he knows and how much he imagines.

“Listen. Yesterday was a mess. We didn’t know Calli was clueless to your…” His hands moved to his hair, he seemed nervous. “If we knew, if Jungkook had only… We wouldn’t have said anything”. 

“It’s okay, Jimin. Nothing is wrong. Why are you so upset?” 

“Oh. So you’re single too now? I confess I’m kinda relieved. We all are gonna be”. 

What. 

“I’m not. Why would think that?” 

Jimin pauses for a moment. You can see in his forehead how hard he is thinking. 

“We thought… Jungkook and Calli are not a thing anymore. We thought it was because of you”. 

“They split?” Jimin nods. “Why she broke up with him? Because she was jealous of me?” You wanted to laugh, but it was trouble to your plans.

“Uh. It was the opposite”. 

You wait for him to explain. You can sense anger boiling inside of you. 

“Jungkook broke up with her. In front of everyone”. 

Jimin doesn’t even finish what he was telling you, because you leave him, rushing inside the house. 

Jin’s house, without so many people, was beautiful. And wide. Really wide. If you were not in rush, you would’ve a joke and ask if Emes Publishing House was hiring. Or if Jin wanted a girlfriend, you were going to be single soon.

“Excuse me. Do you guys know where is Jungkook?” You ask two boys, cleaning the area around the couch. 

“He’s upstairs, with Jin.” Answers the one occupied of taking all the red cups from the floor. They both stare at you. “Ain’t you that girl…” But you don’t stay long enough to hear what they have to say. 

When you reach the second floor, you call his name. 

“We are here.” You hear Jungkook answering, in the last room of the corridor. Probably Jin’s.  

The door was open, and you find them laughing there. Both red from laughing so hard, and still with the same clothes they were wearing the night before. 

“He was just telling me what happened yesterday, Y/N! Now I want to hear your part of the after party.” Jin did not realize how mad you were. 

“I’ll tell you, Jin. But first, I need to understand why Jungkook broke up with Calli”. 

That’s when they realize and the laughs cease in less than an instant. 

“Actually, you can tell me later, babe. I think I heard Hoseok calling me downstairs”. 

You wait until Jin closes the door, to look back a Jungkook. 

“So?” 

“What?” He seems innocent like he doesn’t understand why it would be an issue. 

“What happened?” You can’t control the tone in your voice, so you almost yell at him. 

“Oh. I just told her that if she wanted to leave, she would do that alone. And she left.” He told you, sitting in bed. “We still haven’t talked”. 

You finally can breathe properly since you entered that house. 

“Thank God. It’s reversible”. 

“If you think that I’ll come back with her, you’re absolutely wrong”. 

It was too soon to think the trouble was solved. You can’t breathe properly again. 

“Excuse me? I thought you agreed with our plan? Why are you backing out now?” You know that your voice sounds high-pitched at this moment and you notice the way he presses his temples. Jimin said he was hungover and you remember how much he was drinking last night. It was pleasuring you that he was like this now. 

“You mean your plan? I did all you asked”. 

“Not, you did not. I made it clear as crystal that you were not supposed to break up with her yet. You really need to make it up, Jungkook, you still have time. Blame being drunk, I don’t know, just find a way”. 

You can hear Jungkook chucking, very low. until he looks at you. 

“I’m not changing my mind. If for you it’s okay to stay with an unfaithful person, for me it’s not. I feel disgusted”. 

That shocks you. He thought you were okay?

“Of course it’s not. I made it very clear why we are doing this”. 

“You did it. Only you. Since you told me the truth, three weeks ago, only now I can think straight and feel good with myself. I’m finally free from this misery”. 

“Jungkook, if you didn’t want to be part of the plan, you should have said so”. 

“I was curious, about her, the truth, about you and even about Jordan. I wanted to know who was the guy. To know if somehow he was better than me. Guess what, he’s not”. 

He laughs, getting up the bed. 

“I don’t really understand how that guy has a girlfriend so pretty and even has his side girlfriends. He must be really rich, right?” His hands move to his hair, making it even messier. You stay quiet and shocked at his outburst. “I don’t understand why you both would accept staying with that guy. He’s not even handsome, he’s equipment must be big. Not that you would know”. 

He looks straight in your eyes now, and you can see all the anger he was hiding these weeks now. His eyes are furious. More than yours.

“Actually, I understand it all now. Why you’re accepting it”. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Yeah. Since you’re not having sex with your boyfriend, he needed someone else. Pay attention, that’s the part Calli comes in.” He laughs, humorless while walking around the room. “They have a thing while he waits for you to give in,” He points a finger at you. “his lovely and virginal girlfriend, and while he’s having fun somewhere else. But, are you following my logic here?” 

You feel like slapping him, not once or twice, countless times, but you control your hands, wanting to know how far he would go into hurting your feelings. 

“Calli was fine with their deal for a while, but then she started feeling lonely. Jordan was not available the whole time, only when he was not with you, or when he wanted sex, so here comes Jungkook. I’m here to not only to cure her loneliness but also make Jordan jealous. Her perfect solution”.

Tears are forming on your eyes, but you hold them. If your heart were not broken because of Jordan, Jungkook would have done it that moment. 

You trusted him. That was the reason you felt comfortable enough to tell him something so in intimate of your relationship with Jordan. God, you trusted Jungkook, knowing him just three weeks, more than you had in all your relationship.  

The way you felt comfortable around him, you never felt with your boyfriend. With him, you always tried to be perfect, to look pretty and loving, caring. “Good morning, baby. Good night, honey”. While with Jungkook you felt that you were yourself again. Crazy and free. Young. Free to be yourself. 

Listening to his harsh words and ridiculous imagination, you realize that you shouldn’t have felt like this. He would use that to attack you the moment he could. He was a man, after all.

“Did you tell Calli something about these weeks?” 

“No”. 

You look at his eyes, there’s no humor there. You can see he’s just as hurt as you are, but it’s nothing you should care. 

“Good.” You turn around, ready to leave that room that suddenly looked so small, suffocating your thoughts, but you still have something to tell him, so you turn around again. “Listen. If you think that not having sex with my boyfriend is an excuse for him to cheat me, or threat doing it, you should be really worried. You’re having sex with Calli, but she still seeks my cheater boyfriend for sex”. 

You feel tears rolling down your face when you open the door, only to find standing there at the floor Jin and another boy, really close to the door, listening to your conversation. 

Great. It would pain Jungkook even more, his friends knowing that you implied he’s not good in sheets. Whatever. 

“Excuse me, please”. 

Jin’s eyes were shocked. He was probably expecting cheers and crazy laughs commemorating another step into the plan. Not such a silly fight. 

Monday again, almost a month since you started your plan. Just like a flash, your weekend was over. Not a weekend spent pitying yourself like that one almost two months ago, but an empty and boring one. 

After those words shared with Jungkook, neither of you exchanged any messages, the same with Jordan. All the messages you received were from friends or your cousin, Kimberly. 

This one that you were waiting for this moment, and was really late. She wanted updates too. 

“Are you coming soon? My lunchtime will be over”. 

“Almost there. You know I don’t really work that close. You should be glad that I’m the one coming”. 

You just stood there, sat, with a bored face, looking outside the glass wall of the building you worked. Staring the traffic outside, wondering what was going through everyone’s head. Were they only busy, or sad too? Was someone there really happy? What did they work with?

You notice her, looking and waving at you, outside the building. 

“See, I’m here.” She tells you, smiling but out of breath, a few minutes after ending the call. 

“Were you running?” You laugh. “Ew, you’re going back to work all sweaty”. 

Holding her arm, you start walking around looking for a quick place to eat. You had to be fast, or else you were going to be late and your boss was expecting a very important client in one hour. Your life was a mess, but work couldn’t be. 

“Hey, Y/N.” You hear Jungkook calling you when you reach the sidewalk. He’s coming from the opposite side. 

“You know him?” Kimberly asks you, while he gets closer. 

“He’s the boyfriend of that girl.” He’s close enough to listen. “Sorry, ex-boyfriend”. 

Your cousin seems excited to finally meet him. If your tone bothers Jungkook somehow, he does a good job hiding it. 

“Lunch time?” She confirms before you can even think of how to escape. “Mind if I join?” 

“Actually…” 

“Of course not. I was dying to finally meet you. I can’t believe she hid you for so long”. 

Not able to deny what she said, you just followed the current and made sure to sit by her side, leaving her to be in front of him. They were the one talking, anyway, and the less you would have to face him, better. 

You listen how happily Kimberly talks to Jungkook, about everything that’s related to the plan. Your plan. The plan he said with all words he couldn’t bear any more. 

That was so… frustrating.

The whole Sunday you were mad at him, at Jordan, at Calli. Not even Jin, that you met twice, escaped your angriness. But right now, looking at him, happily talking with your cousin, you didn’t feel like that anymore. You felt just like entering the conversation and forgetting all his harsh words. 

They were just words, right? He was just as sad as you were. Also, that didn’t really hurt you. You were stronger than that, you knew it wasn’t your fault if they were cheaters. What pained you was that he tried to use them against you. 

After finishing her lunch, your cousin had to run or else she would be late for work. 

Jungkook followed you while you were heading back to the building you worked at. You sighed. Each step you took, he took too.

“Hey. I’m sorry for what I said”. 

“I do not care”. 

“But I do. I didn’t mean those words. It’s not your fault. Not mine’s too. I confess I got mad at what you said, but you were right.” He chuckles. You try to not smile. Why is so hard to stay mad at him? “If it’s your fault, then it’s mine too. Mine’s bigger, actually”. 

Your face is less angry now, you can feel it and Jungkook seems to notice it too.

“Let me make up to you. For being mean”. 

“I don’t think you can do it”. 

“After your work. Can I come by?” 

“We’ll see, Jungkook. Bye”. 

You wave at him and enter the building. You were earlier, still having ten minutes, but you did not want to talk to him. You wanted to keep your first decision, staying strong and showing him he acted wrong. 

“Hey, Y/N.” The receptionist waved at you before you could pass your card to enter. 

“Hi, Mel!” You got closer. 

“Your boyfriend just left. I think if you go outside, you can still catch him”. 

“Jordan was here?” You ask her, surprised. 

Why would he appear at your work? He used to refuse even picking you up. “I’m busy, honey.” Always too busy for you. 

You sigh. 

“Yes. He was with a huge pack.” She sounded romantic. “How lucky you…”

“If you think so, you can have Jordan.” You’re not joking, but she doesn’t know and laughs.

“He said that he would come back after your work is over. I’m surprised that you didn’t meet him outside. He really just left”. 

Your heartbeat increases, so you look outside to check them. Neither Jungkook nor Jordan are outside. Was there the possibility of one of them seeing each other? Maybe both could have even exchanged looks. You hoped so.

If Jordan saw Jungkook there. That would mean…

That would mean that your plan was still following the right path. 

You fight with your bag, trying to find your cellphone, lost inside it. You regret keeping so many papers that people at the street give to you. The moment you find it, you don’t waste time. 

She said Jordan would come back, right? 

Y/N: I’ll be out of the office a little late today, but if you don’t mind waiting for me… [sent: 12:56 p.m. / read: -]

Y/N: We need to talk. [sent: 12:56 p.m. / read: -]

[botanistlester]

Bury Your Flame (2/3)

Summary: After receiving a dragon egg when his grandfather passed away, Phil is forced to ask for help from the local dragon tamer. As he soon finds out, Dan Howell is nothing he’s been expecting. Infuriating, ludicrous, and completely lacking respect, Dan is everything Phil hates. But Phil will do anything to make his grandfather proud, even if that means getting help from the local cluck. Word Count: 14,412 / 45k Warnings: Blood/gore, angst, threats, major injury A/N:Thank you so much to @dandelionisonfire for betaing this for me again! I’ll try to get the next part out shortly, but it may take longer than two days because I’m going out of town this weekend. We’ll see though! Thanks for reading, I love you all!

Part One

Read it on AO3 Read it on Wattpad

-

Part Two

Phil had gone over to Dan’s hut early in the morning, and they were currently taking a break. They’d hiked further up the mountain so the air was slightly thinner and they were sitting on a steep ledge, looking out at the tiny appearance of Lilium. Phil could see his own home from there, the very home that he had grown up in and had even gotten lost inside seeming so small that he could simply crush it in his palm.

While Phil was sitting farther away from the ledge, trying rather hard not to die, Dan had decided to sit on the actual ledge, feet dangling over in a way that made Phil fear that he was going to fall. Dan was humming a song, even kicking his feet as he played with Ophelia. It was giving Phil a nasty feeling in his chest, something akin to fear, because if Dan fell over the edge then he would be falling to his death.

If it were up to Phil, he would get up and move Dan himself, but sadly he was immobile at the moment. If he were to move, then he would dislodge Atlas, who had curled up into a ball on his lap. That was simply just disgraceful and not something that was possible at the moment. So instead, he called out to Dan, a frown on his face. “Tamer,” he demanded, trying to keep his voice as emotionless as possible. It would be weak to show his worry. “Come sit against the wall with me.”

Dan turned his face, his humming ceasing. There was a contemplative expression on his face, which quickly turned into a smirk when they made eye contact. Dan’s eyes were glittering. “Are you worried I’m going to fall off the cliff?” he asked, tone light.

Phil shrugged. “No, I just wanted to show you something. I can’t do that if you’re all the way over there.”

The words made Dan chuckle with amusement, and then he was quickly standing up. He put Ophelia on his shoulder, her claws digging into the fabric of his shirt, but he hardly seemed to notice. Phil had a brief moment where he wondered if Dan’s body had marks and scars all over his skin, momentos of when his dragons had accidentally tugged on him a little too hard. It wouldn’t have surprised him. His thoughts were interrupted by Dan sitting down next to him, so close that their thighs were touching.

Dan reached out and ran his fingers down Atlas’ feathers, who chirped happily and arched into the touch. Attention whore. Atlas seemed to like Dan better than Phil, and that wasn’t quite fair to Phil, who’d raised him and fed him. Phil swore that he was going to rejoice when Atlas became a big boy and didn't need him anymore. (As if that would ever happen). “So what did you want to show me?” Dan asked, a twinge of playfulness there that made Phil suspicious. Suspicious because he didn’t understand what Dan was planning to make him sound so playful.

That was, until he realised that he hadn’t actually had something to show Dan, and Dan fully knew that.

Phil shuffled around a bit, pretending like he was looking for something. He patted Atlas, trying to think of something he could come up with, and then cleared his throat. “I think Atlas grew again last night,” Phil lied. “Does he look bigger to you?”

Dan snorted and started to roll his eyes before stopping himself. He leaned closer to Phil and Phil could smell his shampoo because he was so close. It was citrusy, like it’d come straight from the tree of an orange, and Phil wanted to bottle it up just so he could smell it forever. God, he needed to stop being so weird. Dan ran his hands over Atlas’ sides, feeling him, checking his body. When he was done, he sat back and Phil missed the closeness for a split second before he reminded himself who Dan was and who he was.

“He grew a little bit, but not too much,” Dan told him informatively, changing from his normal joking self to a serious Dan for a second. “I reckon he’ll grow another foot by the end of this week. Dragons get big rather fast, and he’s going to be the same size as a full-fledged beast probably by the next month.”

Phil sighed in relief, relief that Dan had let go his obvious flub and gone along with his dumb questions. Even so- “A full-fledged beast? Where will he stay? I don’t have room for him in my bedchamber.”

“Your father literally built you a place for him in your gardens. I’d say you have plenty of space, my prince.”

Phil pouted. “But what if he wants to sleep on my bed with me? I can’t just tell him no.”

Dan threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Are you telling me that you actually have nurturing feelings towards dear Atlas? That you like cuddling with him in bed? My, what these dragons have done to you, Prince! You’re a changed man!”

Shoving Dan lightly, Phil glared. “I do not. I’m just worried. You can take him back for all I care.” The statement made Atlas give him an unimpressed look, but Phil ignored him. He’d have a talk with him later about how he didn’t mean it and how he was just trying to rile Dan up. Atlas should be used to that by now.

“So you’re telling me that you wouldn’t sleep over at my hut just so you could cuddle Atlas? If you gave me custody?” Phil shook his head begrudgingly and Dan just snorted. “Right. I forgot that you don’t care about anyone other than yourself.”

The words, although a joke, still stung. In Phil’s very professional opinion, he’d been getting a lot better about that. He cared about Atlas and Dan. That had to be enough. But maybe it wasn’t. Most people usually cared about more than just two people, whereas Phil literally did not give two craps.

Damn. He was selfish.

But Phil just crossed his arms and scowled down at his lap. His glare was interrupted by Atlas’ dumb face, so it was more like he was mad at Atlas. Unperturbed, Atlas just blinked up at Phil and curled back up, making a disgruntled noise in his throat. “I care about people. Asshole.”

“Hey,” Dan said softly, nudging Phil with his shoulder. Phil didn’t move, just turned his face away and pretended not to hear. Dan nudged him again. “Hey.”

“What?” Phil snapped back, whirling his head around to stare at the dragon tamer.

Dan’s lips were pulled down in a pout and there was concern on his face. He seemed ashamed of himself and Phil couldn’t stay mad at him for too long when he looked like that. Dan opened his mouth, and Phil prepared himself for the I was just joking around speech that never really made him feel better in the first place.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Dan reached into his pocket and pulled something out, his whole hand wrapped around the item so that Phil couldn’t see what it was even if he tried. His touch was delicate, fingers loose, as though he were holding something incredibly fragile. With his free hand, he lightly grabbed Phil’s hand and held it so his palm was facing upwards. His thumb caressed the skin of Phil’s hand and his touch was so ginger, holding Phil like he was a fragile piece of art.

For a moment, Phil lost his breath. He didn’t think they’d ever really touched each other like this. Sure, Dan’s hugged him before, but it was never like this, not so gentle, skin on skin. Phil really wanted to just turn his hand around, grasp Dan’s hand in his, but he didn’t for fear or rejection, he didn’t know why these feelings were suddenly rising inside of him. It was slightly scary. He didn’t know how to react, didn’t know how to deal with the way his lungs were constricting with every breath or why he wanted to tug Dan in and hold him close until he could feel his heart beating against his chest.

He ignored all of that, and tried to pay attention to Dan, who was now putting something in his hand. He placed the object into Phil’s hand and then immediately covered it with his own hand. This way, Phil could feel that the object was hard and cool, almost like a rock, but he could also feel the heat of Dan’s hands making Phil feel warm all the way from his fingertips to his cheeks.

Phil glanced down at where their hands were together, and then slowly trailed his eyes upwards until he and Dan were making eye contact. Dan smiled, softer and kinder than usual. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he murmured in a voice that reminded Phil of the night where he’d opened up to him and disclosed his background.

“You didn’t upset me,” Phil muttered, upset.

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Yes I did, and that wasn’t very nice of me.” He scratched his nails lightly over Phil’s palm, and then he was pressing his palms together to squish Phil’s hand between his own. The edge of the object dug into Phil’s skin, but it didn’t hurt. He was too focused on the way Dan was holding his hands and gazing at him as though he were gazing at a lover. “I’m aware that you care about people more than you understand. You cared about your grandfather and always try to do things to make him proud, even if you don’t necessarily want to do those things. You care about Atlas and have given him a good home despite your earlier reluctance. You care about your parents and their image, and you care about your Kingdom and how well it’s people are doing.” A pause and a small smile. “You care about me. As much as you don’t want to, you do.”

“I never said I didn’t care about you,” Phil interjected, because he didn’t want Dan to get the wrong impression. Phil smirked, deciding to get a little payback for Dan’s earlier lame attempt at a joke. “Doesn’t mean I like you though.”

The statement made Dan laugh good-naturedly. He squeezed Phil’s hand once more, and Phil realised that he still had no idea what Dan was about to give him. He could feel the sharp edges digging into his palm and the cool, hardness of the object, but he couldn’t make sense of it in his mind enough to connect the dots between feeling and seeing. “Touche. But I hope this makes you like me at least a little bit.”

With that, Dan removed the hand that was covering the object, and allowed Phil to take a look at what he was now holding. When he saw what it was, his mouth fell open and he began to gape, because there was no way in hell that he’d have ever managed to guess what this had been. In his hand, he was holding a dragon’s claw. It was long and sharp, curved like a cat’s claw, but two hundred times bigger. It was black and when Phil looked closely, he could see that there were little engravings in it in gold. The engravings were like drawings back in ancient times, of two persons with dragons surrounding them. At the top of the claw, a hole was drilled through and a suede cord was laced through the hole, big enough to fit around Phil’s neck.

“Is- is this a necklace? For me?” Phil asked, quite literally speechless. He didn’t quite understand how Dan had done all of this, or why he’d just give it to Phil like that. “But how? Why?”

Dan chuckled and picked up the necklace from Phil’s palm. He moved so that they were sitting closer together and motioned Phil to turn around. When he did, Dan lowered the necklace around his neck and tied the suede in the back, making it tight, but not so tight that it was choking him. Phil could feel the sharpness of the claw against his breastbone, a constant reminder that the gift was there. “You ask so many questions,” Dan mused. “As dragons age, they lose their baby claws and grow adult ones. Kind of like teeth. I collect them all because they’re like my children and I like to keep them to look back on. This is Atlas’ first baby claw, and I engraved it so you could remember all of the times we’ve had together as well.”

There was emotion swelling in Phil’s chest, emotion that he didn’t understand or know how to display. He could feel his eyes getting wet and his ears getting red, and all of his senses heightened at once. He could feel where Dan’s fingers were brushing the back of his neck, as well as the tiny breaths that Dan was taking. Phil was going through sensory overload, and he didn’t know how to bring himself back to the real world.

So he tried to with humour, turning back around to face Dan. Their faces were so close that Phil could now feel those same exhales brush over his cheekbones, could see those beautiful plush lips so close to his face. Feeling slightly out of breath, Phil murmured, “are you trying to court me?” It was sarcastic but also tinged with seriousness. Sarcastic enough to pass off as a joke if that’s what Dan wished, but also serious in the way that Phil wanted to know.

Was Dan trying to court him? Typically when a person began to court another, they would present them with a small gift in the form of a personal item, such as a necklace or bracelet. Just a small piece to show that they were interested and to show others that they were being courted. If Phil, who had not owned anything like this dragon claw necklace before, started to wear this, then it would be an obvious sign that Phil had found a monogamist courter.

If that was Dan’s intentions in the first place.

Phil watched Dan’s face intensely, watched as his cheeks turned the slightest colour of pink. His smile turned sly and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “It depends on what your answer would be if that were the case.”

Phil’s mind went blank.

He’d had other people try to court him before, had girls give him their grandfather’s rings before. Phil had always turned them down with a laugh in the face, a harsh reminder that Phil was a million times better than them and could do better than to get with a lowly prince or princess of the next Kingdom over. Besides, they were all typically older than him, so they never payed him as much attention as he deserved.

But now he was faced with a citizen - a mere dragon tamer who didn’t even consider himself a citizen of Lilium - offering his courtship with warm eyes and a soft, accepting smile. Dan was so different from everybody else who’d tried to court Phil. Hell, he was so different from everyone else that Phil had ever met in general.

He didn’t try to impress anybody and made fun of everyone that he could, including royalty. He cared about his dragons and not much else, until he got to know a person on a deeper level, which wasn’t often. He was always smiling although he appeared distant from others, but really he was warm and quite cozy, seeming to like interacting with people a lot. He didn’t care about money, about riches and fame. He just wanted to mind his own business and be happy.

Phil liked that. He liked that about Dan so much that it hurt, that it confused him to the point where he wanted to just hold Dan’s hand and never let it go. He wanted to sit atop this mountain for decades and never return to the ground.

Hell, he wanted Dan to court him.

Phil cleared his throat and tried to think of a witty response. “I’d say that I need to give you a gift back.” He needed to give something back to Dan, so he reached for his breast and tore his family crest from the fabric. With shaking fingers, he grabbed Dan’s collar and pinned the brooch onto Dan’s tunic. The brooch was lovely, with his family crest on it. The crest showed a shield with an Eagle on the inside and ivy surrounding it. It was a story that went back thousands of years with his bloodline, and now Dan wore it proudly for everyone to see.

When Phil was done pinning it, he let his hands stay fluttering around Dan’s collar, unsure of what to do now. He didn’t know how to court someone or how to be courted. Was he supposed to kiss him? A kiss of approval? Did they have sex? What was this?

Dan chuckled and caught Phil’s hands in his own, holding them to his chest. Phil could feel his heart beating and it made him blink. Dan’s heart was beating so hard that he could feel it reverberating in his fingertips. “You’re a wreck,” Dan whispered. “But I am a hypocrite.”

“I’ve never met someone as bad at courting as you are,” Phil shot back.

“Well, I’ve never met a prince who’s never been courted before.” For a moment, Phil was going to ask him how he’d known that before remembering that his life was pretty public and if he was going to be courting anybody, it’d be public knowledge. Besides, Phil didn’t think Dan had even met a prince before.

Phil scowled and kicked Dan’s foot. “I take back the acceptance for the courting. I’ll only accept if you defeat me in a brawl. Kick my ass.”

Dan laughed heartily and tugged Phil a little closer, until he could touch Phil’s cheek with his lips. Dan’s lips were as hot as a dragon’s breath, nearly searing through Phil’s skin in the best way possible. There wasn’t a single word Phil could think or say that could equate to the feelings bubbling up inside of him like fine champagne. Dan didn’t pull back far before he was speaking, lips brushing against Phil’s cheekbone and making shivers run down his spine. “You’re asking me to defeat you in combat? Sounds like a date.”

The use of the word date made Phil’s cheeks turn hot, but he just chuckled and ducked his head, unsure of how to act. “Sure, yeah,” he murmured quietly, grinning at their joined hands. “A date.”

He’d never been on a date before, had thought they were ridiculous beforehand. But with Dan, the idea of a date didn’t sound the least bit appealing at all.

-

“You ready for me to kick your ass?” Dan’s voice echoed in the courtyard, bouncing off the stone walls. He was in battle stance in front of Phil, his sword held out in front of him. They were both using iron swords that were blunt, that way they couldn’t cut through skin, but they would definitely be able to leave a bruise if they hit hard enough. Phil couldn’t deny that Dan looked wildly beautiful like this, his hair unruly and his eyes wide, glinting in the sun and making them tinge red like they were filled with fire. He truly looked like the rogue man who was raised by dragons now, and Phil could feel an aching in his heart at this image. For once, Dan seemed like he was free, unconstrained from societal expectations cast upon him and instead replaced with a fiery soul that nobody could tame.

“I’m ready to throw you across the courtyard,” Phil replied cockily, a smug smirk on his face. He waved his own sword towards Dan, tried to appear as manly and intimidating as possible. He was confident in his abilities to defeat Dan, even though he didn’t know if he really wanted to. He wanted Dan to court him, wanted to see what that would be like, but he also had a reputation to uphold.

There was no way he was going to let Dan beat him, no matter how badly he wanted Dan to court him.

“I love a man who can easily punch me in the face,” Dan teased back, and then he was jumping forward, throwing his sword in the air and trying to lash out at Phil.

Phil dodged it, the sword striking the stone ground instead. He whirled around, tried to take Dan off guard, but Dan was quick and knocked his sword out of the way. It was quick to understand that they both had different fighting styles. Whereas Phil’s fighting was defined and controlled, Dan’s was unruly and all over the place, but nonetheless as skilled as Phil. Phil wondered briefly in the midst of all this how Dan could have learned how to fight so well, but then he realised that it would have been easy to learn when Dan had nothing to do, all by himself for years.

It was also clear that Dan fought unfairly. He kicked Phil’s knees out from under him, jabbed his elbow into Phil’s stomach, even bit Phil’s shoulder hard enough to leave a bright red mark. At first, Phil didn’t want to stoop so low as to fight dirty back, but after a while of going back and forth like this, Phil threw everything he knew about fighting fairly out of the way and jumped forward, hooking one foot around Dan’s calf while he pushed his entire body weight against Dan’s chest.

Dan fell onto the ground with a loud oof, his breath huffing out of him in one large exhale. Phil was breathing heavily as he leaned over him, sitting on his legs with all of his weight to keep Dan on the ground while the tip of his sword pressed to Dan’s throat. Dan closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to catch his breath. He let out a small laugh.

“So you won,” Dan said in a gruff voice, one that seemed slightly disappointed. It irked Phil that he was still smiling, despite the fact that Dan didn’t get to court Phil now.

Phil nodded and jokingly pressed the sword harder into Dan’s neck, even though it didn’t do anything. “So I won,” Phil mused, smirking. He pulled the sword away from Dan’s throat and fell to the side, onto the ground next to Dan. The sun was so bright that it blinded him, but he stared into the sky anyways, watching as the clouds passed by. Atlas, who had been watching the whole ordeal from the sidelines, snuffled at his head and then curled around his head, making Phil smile.

A good brawl always made him feel more relaxed, especially when he was doing so out of fun rather than a lesson.

“Looks like I don’t get to court you then,” Dan said softly.

Phil hummed. “Guess not,” he agreed.

He wasn’t too sad about it, but it seemed like Dan was a bit more upset than he let on, because then he was saying, “That’s okay. A prince deserves more than a lowly dragon tamer.”

That made Phil frown angrily, turning onto his side. He didn’t care that Lennyx could see them from where she was watching only twenty feet away. He didn’t care that anyone could get the wrong idea by his actions, especially when he was taking Dan’s hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze. “That’s not true,” Phil replied harshly, hating that Dan would even think of something like that. He deserved more than that, more than Phil. It pissed Phil off to no end that he had such low expectations of himself. “You’re the one who deserves better than I. You deserve the freedom to be yourself and live with your dragons, not to be tied down by politics and duties that don’t actually matter. You deserve to love freely and away from the bitter stare of onlookers who believe they can control your life just because they know of you. This is nothing I can give you, Dan.”

Dan huffed and then he was turning over onto his side as well, until they were face to face. This close, Phil could see the little freckles dotted across his nose, the light spots in his eyes, the little smile on his lips. Dan reached up and ran his fingers lightly across Phil’s cheek, making Phil close his eyes and bask in the touch. It was so feather light and ginger, completely different from the violence in which they fought only moments before. When Dan spoke, his voice was so quiet that it gently carried over the wind, barely audible. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want to be with you.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly, cheeks a pretty shade of pink. Phil’s heart was roaring in his ears. “Besides, you don’t deserve any of that stuff either. You’ve been suffocated with these matters your entire life. It’s time for you to do things that you want as well, that way you can finally be yourself without restraint.”

Phil squeezed his eyes shut. He hated that Dan was right. He hated that he didn’t know whether he was being himself or if he was just reflecting his parents and their expectations. Was he just a mirror of what everybody wants to be? Or was he acting on his own free will? Did he even have any free will? He knew the answer even before he asked himself the question. So maybe that was why he was suddenly forming words, words that he’s been wanting to say this entire time. It was totally against what he’d ever do originally, but he knew in his heart that this was something that he truly wanted. He wasn’t going to let anybody mute his desires anymore, no matter how badly it may hurt himself or the others around him.

“I know that I told you that you’re not allowed to court me since you lost. But I never said anything about me not being able to court you instead.” He knew the weight of his words as soon as he said them, as soon as Dan’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. He knew what courting meant, that he was trying to find a person suitable enough to marry, something that his parents had been begging him to do ever since he’d turned eighteen.

He knew that his parents would just be happy he was courting someone, whether it was a man or woman. He just hoped they would be okay with the fact that Dan had no family aside from his beasts, as well as a low social status.

Phil touched his dragon’s claw necklace and decided that he didn’t care what his parents thought. He was going to love unlike he’d been able to before.

“You want to court me?” Dan asked incredulously.

Phil chuckled. “I know what I said. So will you accept or not?”

“Of course I will. Is that even a question?”

Apparently not, because they were both smiling at each other, grinning under the heat from the sun. Phil could practically hear himself sizzling from the sunbeams, but he didn’t dare move. He was too comfortable lying there with Dan, away from anything that mattered.

They sunk into a comfortable silence, drinking in each other’s presence. Normally, now would be the time that they would exchange gifts, showing the acceptance of the courtship. But they had already done so a couple of nights ago, the weight of the claw around Phil’s neck and the brooch pinned to Dan’s scarf where everyone could see it. Lennyx had definitely noticed it earlier, had given Phil a wide eyed stare, but he had ignored her in favour of focusing on Dan.

She could connect the dots anyways. Anyone could.

Finally, Phil sighed. “I don’t know how to court somebody,” he admitted, even though Dan knew that already.

“I don’t either,” Dan replied reassuringly. “I guess we’ll just play it by ear. No pressure.”

“No pressure,” Phil murmured back quietly. It made him relax just a tad, knowing that Dan didn’t expect anything, that he didn’t know what he was doing either. He could make the assumption that courting Dan wouldn’t be a chore, that he didn’t have to trip over his own feet just to impress Dan. They already knew each other, were fond of each other, so now it was just a bit more official.

More than that, Phil found that he couldn’t wait to see what their future held for them.

-

Dan and Phil were taking the day off of training so they could lie around and spend time with each other. Phil had been training quite a lot anyways, and Dan claimed that he deserved a break after all the hard work he had been doing. They’d been courting for about a month now, and Phil was truly enjoying himself. Dan had stopped calling Phil by his title and had instead begun calling him by his name. Phil liked the way his name rolled off of Dan’s tongue, a pleasantry that not many people were allowed to practice.

There really was no pressure between them at all and they were instead taking this thing between them extremely chill. They moved at their own pace rather than anybody else’s, and they were slowly getting more comfortable with each other than they already had been before. Now, more often than not, Phil caught himself staring at Dan’s lips, wondering what it would feel like to have them pressed against his own, maybe leaving small kisses on his collarbones. They hadn’t gone further than cuddling or holding hands yet, mainly because they both didn’t know what they were doing, but Phil was starting to torture himself with the thoughts of what going further with Dan would be like.

Now, Phil was curled into Dan’s side, his face pressed to Dan’s chest while Dan stroked softly stroked through his hair. Atlas was by their feet, sulking after he tried to climb onto Dan’s chest as well but was instead kicked off because he was too big now. He was no longer the size of a cat, but rather the size of a small horse. Phil had told him that he can still sleep on his bed as long as he stayed by Phil’s feet and didn’t crush him while he slept. So far, Atlas had listened, albeit a bit begrudgingly.

“I love this,” Phil mumbled, tilting his head up to look at Dan’s face as best as he could at such an awkward angle. He was still getting used to being so sappy with Dan, but it was becoming easier by the day and he found that he liked to express his affection towards Dan with his words. Dan always got the cutest little blush on his cheeks, and Phil made it a game to see how much he could get Dan to blush in a certain period of time. Just like he was expecting, Dan’s cheeks turned pink. “I like spending time with you.”

Dan chuckled and pressed a kiss to Phil’s forehead, which Phil sank into. He was a huge fan of forehead kisses and Dan was always glad to supply them. When he pulled away, their faces were very close, and Phil’s mind wandered once more, thinking about how much he wanted an actual kiss. How much he wanted to just grab Dan’s cheeks and bring his face down to his. “You spend time with me every day,” Dan replied, a fond expression on his face that made it really hard not to just kiss him right then and there.

“So?” Phil asked. “I still like spending time with you.”

“Me too.” Dan’s hand stilled in Phil’s hair and his expression was now contemplative, as though he were thinking really hard about something. Slowly, he leaned in and nudged his nose against Phil’s, kind of like a bunny.

Phil’s mind went blank. Dan’s lips were so close to his own; just a centimeter apart and then they would be touching. He could feel the warmth against his lips, the way their breath mingled and became one. Phil tilted his head up, giving Dan permission to kiss him, showing him that he wanted it so badly that he could barely think straight. They’d both never kissed anyone before, and Phil wanted Dan to be his first. He wanted Dan to be all of his firsts.

Just as Dan leaned forward, his hand sliding from the back of Phil’s head to his cheek instead, the door swung open, banging against the wall with the force.

They jumped apart, and Phil went to turn his wrath onto the intruder, finding Lennyx standing there, an alarmed expression on her face. Phil could feel fury building inside of him, so intense that his face turned red. He and Dan were so close to finally becoming intimate, only to have Lennyx ruin it for them. “Lennyx, what the h-?!”

“The King, my Lord,” she cut him off, bowing and moving out of the way of the doorway.

The King walked in then, his expression unreadable. Phil wasn’t entirely worried about being found in bed with another man. The act was rather common after Phil’s grandfather made love of all kind legal. It was one of the reasons why Lilium was such a great kingdom, a safe place for commoners to come to when they are in need of certain things or when they are trying to marry in peace.

Dan knew that, and yet he was still scrambling to stand, bowing low and long. “My King,” he murmured, and Phil had never heard him sound so respectful in the entire time that he’s known him. Phil hid his scoff at this. If only Dan had been this respectful when they’d first met, then they wouldn’t have had so many issues.

But then again, maybe that was why they connected so well in the long run.

Phil stood, slower than Dan, and regarded his father with a slight bowed head. “Father,” Phil greeted. “What brings your presence to me?”

The King stood, towered over his son and the tamer, his beard nicely groomed and his red robes cascading onto the floor. His blue eyes were hard as he stared at the two boys, sliding his gaze over Phil as though he wasn’t really seeing him. His lips were pressed in a firm line and Phil could tell by the clench in his jaw that he was not happy. He ignored Phil’s question, turned to the door. “Guards!” he barked out, and Phil’s heart completely stopped beating. What have they done? Was his father really not okay with him lying with another man? Phil whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at Dan as the guards waltzed in, but Dan just smiled back like he was trying to assure Phil that everything was going to be okay. “Take the beast tamer to the dungeons. And the dragon.”

Without question, the guards leapt forward, twisting Dan’s arms behind his back and gripping him with iron fists so he could not escape. As though Dan would attempt anyways. He just stood there, staring at Phil with that same small smile, even though his lips were tense with pain at the harsh grips of the guards.

“Father, what in God’s name are you doing?!” Phil cried out, jumping forward and yanking at the guards’ armor, trying to release their hands. He was desperate, his hands shaking, and there were pathetic tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He was no longer thinking, only acting on feeling alone, and that was a mistake. He had never gone against his father’s wishes before, and while his father was a benevolent king, Phil had no doubt that he would wring his neck if he went against his own father. “Let him go! Let him go, he did nothing wrong!”

The King put a hand on Phil’s shoulder and yanked him backwards. “Stay back, child. That man is dangerous.” The King knew that Phil hated being called a child when he was twenty-three years old, and yet he always used it to his advantage, used it to make sure that Phil knew his place. That Phil was of a lower status than him, that he wasn’t a king yet. He didn’t usually use that term because he liked to be the ‘cool’ parent, but apparently he was now ready to throw all of that away for whatever reason.

Phil turned and shoved at his father angrily, pushing away his arm, trying to chase after the guards who had ahold of Dan. It bothered him that Dan was still smiling, that he was mouthing out that everything was going to be okay. Why was he unconcerned? Why was he not fighting back? There was nothing that Dan had done wrong, and to be arrested unfairly made Phil’s insides boil.

“Philip Michael,” came his father’s booming voice, and then there was a sword pressed against Phil’s neck, stopping him in place. The sword was held by Phil’s very own guard.

He was breathing hard with panic, the sharp edge of the sword digging into his throat. One step forward and it would slice through his skin. Phil was tempted to step forward anyway, just so he could pass through and get to Dan, or even just to show his frustration with the whole situation. Maybe then his father would take him seriously.

“Philip. Stop.”

Phil spun around and glared at his father, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. “Why the fuck should I listen to you? Why’d you arrest him? Why won’t you listen to me for once when I say he’s done nothing wrong?” He pointed an angry finger at the King and was so close to stomping his foot along as well. “If you arrested him solely because we were lying together, I demand you to release him and arrest me instead.”

The King shook his head. He seemed exhausted, bags under his eyes and a weary expression on his face. He gestured for Lennyx to lower the sword, and Phil considered leaving with that, but he wanted to hear what his father had to say for himself, so he didn’t. The King pressed his thumbs to his forehead. “I do not care if you lie with another man, my son,” he started, and then held his arm out to point Phil towards his bed, telling him to sit. Phil followed begrudgingly, sitting as far away from his father as he possibly could. “I would not arrest someone without reason, and I think you are aware of that fact. It had given me great sorrow to have to arrest your Daniel. Believe me when I say I tried to come up with other solutions that ended up falling through.”

Phil threw his hands up in exasperation. “And what? Are you going to explain to me what he’s done? Pray tell, father, as I do not believe I understand what is going on here.”

Phil could feel the King’s eyes on his throat, gazing at the dragon’s claw around his neck. He shuffled a bit, his hand flying up to his neck to wrap around the sharpness. It dug into his palm painfully, a gruesome reminder that Dan was in the dungeons, away from the safety of Phil’s room. Phil didn’t even have Atlas with him anymore, the dragon having been escorted out along with Dan. His room felt strangely empty, making him wonder how he’d lived like this before. “I recieved news this morning of a few citizens who had been slain by a dragon. The dragon was not found, but there were a few witnesses and pointers that showed evidence of Dan keeping this dragon. There is speculation that he had told his dragon to harm the citizens. Therefore, he had to be restrained until further research could be performed.”

Scoffing, Phil shook his head. He couldn't believe what he’d just heard. There was absolutely no way that Dan could be in charge of this murderous dragon. His Dan, who had never shown a vicious bone in his entire body, who always smiled no matter what the situation was. And all of his dragons were kind, loving creatures who grazed in the pastures and adored Dan with all of their hearts. They would not cause suffering to anybody, and Phil was certain of that. Besides, “Dan has been with me for the majority of the past week. He would not have had any time to formulate that type of plan. He is not that kind of person, father. You have to understand that.”

The King sighed and looked at his lap. Slowly, he stood. He did not make eye contact with Phil, and Phil hoped it was because he was ashamed of himself. “I know that you believe that, son, but I am afraid that love blinds us sometimes. He could have been using you as a cover up, and I cannot let that happen.” Phil bristled, biting his tongue as his father turned and began to walk to the door. His father paused right before he left. “Daniel’s hearing will be tomorrow at sunrise. Until then, I have told the guards not to allow you into the dungeons. Try to get some rest tonight and ease your mind.”

“Fuck you,” Phil spat, finally unable to hold it in any longer. The hatred was bubbling out of him until he was bursting with it, fueling him like fire.

His father waved dismissively at him and left the room without another word, leaving Phil to his own devices and Lennyx posted quietly by the door.

He did not sleep that night. His mind was filled with too much anger and anxiety, dread filling him to the very brim. He couldn’t keep still and instead paced around his room. He thought about Dan, about what his father had said, about everything he knew about Dan. He was absolutely sure that Dan wasn’t using him, had utmost trust in Dan. He just couldn’t figure out how to get his father to trust Dan as well.

In the dead of the night, Phil tried to leave his room and sneak his way to the dungeons, but Lennyx found him and refused to let him leave, claiming she was on King’s orders. Phil was angry, but couldn’t be angry at her because she was just doing her job. Instead, he was boiling with emotion for the King, and he knew there was no way he was going to keep his cool during the hearing. As soon as he saw Dan, he was probably going to burst into tears right then and there.

Come morning, Phil was a zombie. He could feel the dark circles under his eyes and the greasiness of his unwashed hair. He’d run his hands through his hair so much that it was sticking up all over the place, but he couldn’t shower, both out of pure exhaustion and trepidation. He couldn’t stop worrying about the hearing, about what would happen. He knew that Dan didn’t have the best reputation in Lilium, most people thinking that he was crazy or unruly or disrespectful. And he was, to an extent, but they also didn’t know Dan like Phil knew him.

People could take Dan’s smile in the wrong way, believe that he lacked empathy or compassion. They could believe that Dan could harm someone, could murder someone, just because they hadn’t had a conversation with him. Besides, Dan was the only person who could be blamed for something dragon related. Phil knew that the odds weren’t in Dan’s favour, and that thought was terrifying to him.

When Phil’s mother showed up at his room, telling him to get ready to leave, Phil was already wearing his nicest robes. He’d tried to appear as presentable as possible, although it was quite obvious that he was not okay. However, he didn’t want his people to blame Dan for ruining his mental health as well, so the least he could do was dress up properly.

He wasted no time in getting to the gathering hall. He was one of the first people in there, aside from his father sitting at the throne, his mother right next to him. Phil sat in the chair beside him and refused to look his father in the eye. While he still had to be respectful and sit up straight, Phil wanted the King to know that he was upset and that he wouldn’t go down without a fight. His mother tried to smile at him, but Phil glanced away before he could break down and smile back.

Today was no smiling matter.

Slowly, the people started trickling in. First the jury, then the citizens. The gathering hall was big enough to fit the majority of the Lilium citizens inside of it, and it seemed like nearly everyone had decided to show up today. Not surprisingly, considering there was hardly ever an arrest that happened in the kingdom. Lilium was a fairly peaceful place, and there had not been an incident such as a murder since Phil was a small boy.

The people left an opening down the middle of the crowd that led to the front of the room, right where the King, Queen, and Phil sat. Phil knew from experience that Dan would walk down the aisle, hands cuffed behind his back, a guard on each side. Then, he would kneel before the royal family and bow his head as the King stood and announced what the hearing was for. Everybody would watch and form their own opinions and Phil would be left without a voice because his opinions didn’t matter here.

Just as Phil predicted, the crowd got quiet and everyone turned towards the back of the room to watch as the giant doors opened. Dan, thankfully, had enough sense to wipe the damn smile off his face as he entered, hands behind his back and hair much more unruly than usual. The guards had a tight grip on his biceps, dragging him forward so harshly that he kept stumbling over his own two feet. Eyes were on him the entire time, including Phil’s eyes, as he made his way to the front of the room.

When he saw Phil, his face brightened and his lips twitched up, as though he were about to start smiling. But Phil shook his head, frowning, and he stopped just in time, instead pouting out his lip slightly. It was just the thing that Dan would do, and it hurt so badly to see him like this. Phil could feel his heart tear a little with each step Dan took towards the throne. The tear was ripping into a gaping hole until it was nearly unbearable and Phil had to dig his nails in the chair in order not to go running for him.

The guards halted in front of the altar, roughly pushing Dan to his knees. Phil couldn’t take his eyes away from Dan’s face as he bowed his head, showing submissiveness and respect. Phil would probably never get used to the image of that, especially when he’d seen Dan be so rude to him right off the bat. He appreciated that Dan knew his boundaries and when to fight or submit.

The King stood and the crowd awaited eagerly for his words. Phil stared intently at Dan, trying to convey to Dan that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him as long as he was living.

Dan didn’t look up. The King spoke.

“Citizens of Lilium,” he started, voice booming and echoing off of every corner, “thank you for coming to the hearing of Daniel Howell. It brings me great joy to have such a caring and courteous kingdom. Today, we are inspecting the matter of murder that occured on the morning of yesterday. It has come to my attention that three citizens have greeted the afterlife sooner than expected due to an untimely beast attack.” Dan glanced up quickly and met Phil’s eyes. Phil could feel his stomach growing weaker, and the small smile Dan sent his way did nothing to ease that as his father continued to speak. “We did not find the dragon after the event occurred, however, the only beasts that the kingdom is aware of reside on Rose Mountain, which Daniel Howell considers his home. Due to these circumstances, we have decided to put Daniel on trial to determine whether he is guilty or innocent.”

They had no evidence. That much was clear, but just from a quick scan of the room, Phil picked out several people who were staring at Dan with disgust in their gazes, already completely convinced that he had done the unthinkable. Phil wanted to scream at them, to shout at them that they were wrong, that they were all delusional, but he was glued to his chair, teeth clenched together as though that would keep his sorrow from leaking onto the floor.

The King ordered the jury to speak, to provide explanations and suggestions for how to handle the situation. They all said the same exact thing: that Dan was guilty because he was the only one who could control dragons, so therefore he was obviously in charge of the dragon who murdered people. Only one woman stood and brought up the fact that there was not enough significant evidence to charge Dan for murder. Phil didn’t know who she was, but he liked her.

A few citizens came up to speak, detailing what they had seen and how the dragon had crushed their houses. They described a giant burgundy beast that breathed fire, and Phil clenched his teeth because he knew what they were describing, who they were describing, and judging by the sudden fretful expression on Dan’s face, he knew exactly what was being implied as well. Everyone did, considering that specific dragon was Dan’s most well-known creature.

Dryas. The beast who had saved Dan’s life, and could now possibly have the power to end it. If it was her, which Phil still wasn’t entirely convinced.

When Dan was called upon to save himself, Phil couldn’t look away. He memorised the shape of his lips and tried to remember how they felt when they pressed to his forehead. He watched as his dimple caved in whenever he spoke, and how his eyelashes were so long that they kissed his cheeks when he blinked. His hair was a curly mess atop his head and Phil imagined that a bird could make a nest in it if it wanted to, and his cheeks were a rosey pink colour, one tiny spot turning dark red from the attention of the room.

“I send my sincerest apologies to every family which was impacted by the attack,” Dan murmured in a tone much quieter, yet still as powerful as the King’s. “However much I would like to easily solve this mistake, I am afraid that I have not commanded my dragons to harm anybody. My dragons are very peaceful creatures who like to graze in the grass and play around like cats. While they are scary, they bring no harm to the citizens of Lilium. I would not allow it. If any of my dragons have hurt anybody, the situation will be solved immediately, as I do not condone violence of any sort. In fact, Dryas had saved my very life when I was only four years old. After my sibling had abandoned me in the mountains to starve, Dryas had taken me in, fed me, and made sure that I was living the best life that I could. She had saved my life when nobody else had and is the only reason I am here today.”

One of the jury members spoke then, a man with a balding head and bulging eyes. He seemed skeptical. Phil didn’t like him. “Is it true that you have been training with Prince Philip for the past few months?”

Dan nodded and stared out at the crowd with a level, steady gaze. “That is true, yes.” He spared a glance at Phil and grinned fondly at him for just a millisecond before turning his attention away. Phil’s heart tore open a bit more. “The Prince had come to me for help with his inheritance, which came in the form of a dragon’s egg. Because he did not understand the ways of the beasts, he came to me for help and I was glad to lend a hand.” Liar, Phil thought affectionately. Dan was glad to lend a hand while Phil had begrudgingly taken it. “Through our training, the Prince has come a long way and is now able to understand the majority of the dragon’s native language. It gives me great pride that I was able to provide that knowledge to him.”

The King turned to Phil and gestured for him to stand up. Avoiding his eyes, Phil did, and instead grit his teeth at the King’s next words. “Philip, you may speak now.”

He wanted to scream that Dan didn’t do it. He wanted to call everybody a bloody idiot. He wanted to throw a temper tantrum in front of the whole Kingdom. More than that, he wanted to cross the stage and give Dan a big kiss to show everyone just how much he meant to him.

He didn’t. Instead, he was a good boy and kept his true opinions to himself. He’d throw a tantrum later in front of just his parents and Lennyx. “I do not believe that Daniel Howell is guilty of murder.” He expected the crowd to gasp in offense, but instead, they were deathly silent, awaiting his next words. “I have been training with Daniel for approximately three months now, and this man is not capable of doing such an inhuman act. Through my lessons, I have learnt that Daniel is a caring person, both for humankind and dragons alike. We have been training every day for hours, and he has undoubtedly earned my trust. His dragons are tranquil and gentle. Not once have any of the beasts shown an ounce of violence towards me in the months that I have known them.” Phil turned his face towards Dan, stared him right in the eye. “I have full faith that, if given the chance, Daniel would be able to control the rogue dragon and make sure that it does no harm any further.” It was a small plead for everybody listening, as well as a message to Dan. A tiny, I’ll stand with you until the end.

Dan gave him a little nod of the head, and Phil dismissed himself, sitting back in his chair. He listened as his father told the jury to discuss amongst themselves, tilting his head and staring at the ceiling. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He was on edge, lips draw and cracked from gnawing on them, and his nails were split from digging them into the wooden throne. His eyes were burning with the need to cry and his heart was burning and all he wanted was to be sitting on Rose Mountain with Dan, listening to him humming as Atlas and Ophelia played together. He didn’t like that Atlas and Ophelia, a familiar presence in his life, were now nowhere to be found. He didn’t like that Dan was so near to him but completely out of his touch.

The chandelier above him was rocking minisculely, so tiny that he had to concentrate to notice it. It cast light over the walls, made shadows dance to their own imaginary tunes. While the shadows were carefree in their movements, the chandelier was bolted to the ceiling, never to be set free, only able to move to the music by a millimeter.

Phil felt like that chandelier at the moment.

“A decision has been made,” Phil’s father suddenly announced, walking back to the center of the room. Everybody straightened in their chairs, including Dan, who had tried to seem uninterested but was failing miserably.

Phil held his breath, shut his eyes. Please be set free, please be set free.

The King took a deep breath and it echoed around the hall. The room was so quiet that Phil could hear his own heart thundering in his ears. Or maybe that’s because his ears were ringing and blocking out any noise from anything other than his father’s voice.

“Daniel Howell’s execution will be held at sunset in the morrow.”

Phil’s heart did a weird thing where it raised to his throat and dropped to his stomach at the same exact time. As the people started to trickle out of the room and the guards grabbed Dan’s shoulders, Phil could only see black edges around his line of vision and Dan’s paled face. He was frowning. Actually frowning. Phil had never seen Dan frown. Not in a serious way at least. Not in the way that his eyebrows furrowed and his entire face sagged and the dimple in his cheek had completely disappeared and Phil couldn’t lose him.

Phil couldn’t lose him.

“No,” Phil whispered, and then louder, “No. I won’t allow you to do this, father.” He flung to his feet, stumbling, and in an act of déjà vu, flung himself at Dan. This time, the guards tried to stop him, but his father waved them away, told them to give him some time.

Then Phil was right in front of Dan, right up in his space, touching his face, and everything felt right being so close again, but completely wrong because Dan was going to die and Phil didn’t know what to do. Dan’s eyes were pools of liquid caramel on a hot day and Phil was stuck in an endless black ocean, hoping to drown but unable to sink.

He grabbed Dan’s face, cradled it in his palms, ran his fingers over his cheekbones and over his eyebrows and through his hair. Dan closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, and Phil couldn’t take this anymore. As Dan tilted his head, giving Phil’s palm a light, tender kiss, Phil’s tears finally fell, staining his cheeks and splattering on the marble floor like droplets of blood.

“Don’t cry,” Dan whispered, and he moved his arm as if to touch Phil's cheek, only to stop at the pull of the handcuffs around his wrists. Instead, he ran his foot over Phil’s calf in a way that probably looked silly, but was instead more comforting. “I’m not worthy of your tears, my Prince.” This time, when he addressed Phil by his title, Phil knew that he did not mean it out of respect. He meant it as an endearment, the term soft in his mouth, teling Phil that he was Dan’s prince, that Phil had Dan’s entire heart and soul.

Phil only cried harder, and he didn’t care if there were people watching. He knew that people were still there, watching what was happening with curious expressions on their faces, knew that they were shocked - both because there had been a murder and because Phil was currently sobbing into this strange man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Dan’s shoulders and pulled him close, burying his head into his neck and sobbing hysterically. “I- I don’t want you t-to leave me,” Phil whimpered out as Dan nuzzled his nose into Phil’s collarbone. “We w-were supposed to ha-ave forever.”

“We do,” Dan whispered softly. “I’ll wait for you for an eternity. I’ll haunt your ass so you don’t forget me.”

It was screwed up and Phil was aware, but he laughed anyways. It was a bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. He couldn’t believe this was happening to them, that Dan could be set for execution solely because he had a dragon that resembled the rogue beast. Benevolent King, Phil’s ass. “I could never forget you,” Phil told him sincerely. He leaned in closer, speaking into Dan’s ear so that nobody else could hear. “I’ll fight for you. I won’t let them take away the only thing I’ve cared about for years. I’ll get you out.” He backed away and looked into Dan’s eyes, mustering up his best smile that was probably pathetic due to his tear-stained face and swollen eyes. “Wait for me.”

Dan grinned, eyes glossy and full of sorrow. “I’ll always wait for you,” he replied, voice breaking.

The guards grabbed Dan’s arms once more and aggressively pulled him away. Dan went willingly, bowing his head, and Phil could do nothing but watch as his heart went with him. When they were halfway towards the doors, Phil broke down again, and he could hardly be thankful that most of the citizens had already left when he was sinking to his knees and wailing into his hands. He felt truly and utterly pathetic, but there was no amount of words that could describe the pain he was feeling right then.

Loss for the only person he’d cared for in years. Sorrow for Dan and the dragons. Helplessness because he can’t do anything about it. Betrayal for his father taking away the things he cared about.

His father, who was now putting a hand on his shoulder and saying his name in a soft tone.

Phil yanked his shoulder out of his father’s grip and shuffled away from him like a wounded animal. He certainly looked like one. “Don’t fucking touch me, traitor,” he spat accusingly. “I can’t even fucking look at you right now after what you’ve done to me.”

His mum was standing behind his father, hovering, but Phil had no doubt that she was staying back because this was a conversation that Phil needed to have with his father, not her. Thankfully, the King took a step away, giving his son some space. But he did not stop talking. “I know you are upset with me right now, son, and I do not blame you. I know it is hard losing somebody you care about.”

Phil lost it. He stood up, throwing his hands in the air, and then he was jabbing his father in the chest with his finger, pushing him back slightly. “No, you don’t understand, father,” Phil snarled, staring straight into those blue eyes that were exactly like his own. Phil wanted to tear his eyes out and never remind himself of the parts of himself that resembled his father. “I didn’t just care about Dan. I loved him.” Phil froze with the words that seemed to have come out of his mouth before he could even think about it. He grit his teeth, could feel his eyes well up with tears for a moment because this was the first time he’s ever said something like that and it was under a circumstance such as this. “I loved all of him, all of his creatures. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve loved somebody?” Phil laughed bitterly, throwing his head back. “Fuck, I can’t even think about the last time I loved somebody. I don’t know if I ever had before Dan came. And yet you ripped it up right in front of me, decided to have an innocent man executed without plausible evidence. How does that make you feel, knowing you slaughtered an innocent civilian? Does it make you feel good? Proud? Are you just jumping for joy that you murdered the very person I was planning to marry?”

The guards were pointing their swords at Phil, as though he were the crazy one trying to murder somebody. Phil was no murderer, but he sure felt murderous right then as his father’s eyes turned downward and filled with fake sorrow. His beard was long and gray and made his downturned lips look even more intense. Phil hated it. Phil wanted to smack the look off his face and grab him by the shoulders and scream until his voice went out.

“If I was able to handle the situation in a different way, then I would. Believe me. But there is nothing I can do about it now.”

That made Phil cackle. “Nothing you can do?! You’re the King! You can do whatever you want and you don’t have to explain! Do what Dan’s old King did to his family and murder all of their youngest children! That’s all you’re good for anyway!” Phil shook his head and began to back away. He couldn’t believe that he was saying these things to his father. But more, he couldn’t believe his father was letting him. “I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to do your fucking job and find evidence to support who the true killer is. And when you realise that you were wrong, you’re going to have to do more than just apologise for the mess you’ve made.”

Turning, ignoring his father’s calls for him to come back, Phil ran out of the gathering hall, heart roaring in his ears. Before he could exit completely, Phil paused in the doorway. He made eye contact with his father from across the room and sneered. “Have a fantastic day, King Henry. Hope you sleep well tonight.” And then he grabbed the family crest that was pinning his robes together, tore it out of the fabric, and threw it at the ground. As his robes fell from his shoulders, leaving him in his trousers and a white button-up, Phil felt almost as wild as Dan. “The Lester name is a disgrace and I won’t be associated with it anymore.”

The door slammed shut as he fled from the room, the noise rattling the walls, and Phil found that he didn’t care. His chest felt tight, his face was blotched and red, and the man he finally admitted he loved was locked in the dungeons, awaiting his death.

But Phil couldn’t spend time being sad. If he wanted to find evidence before tomorrow evening, he was going to have to work without feeling.

Good thing that stuffing up his feelings was something he was used to.

-

It wasn’t long before Phil found himself in the dungeons.

His father must have told the guards to leave him alone, because they didn’t try to stop him at all, just stepped aside to let him through. Or maybe they were aware that if they told him no, then Phil would throw the biggest temper tantrum that he’d ever had and throw each of them against the wall. Phil knew he could do it. They knew he could do it. Maybe it was just for the best that they let him inside.

He made his way through the tunnels blindly, peeking into each cell to try and find which one Dan was in. Most of the cells were empty, thanks to the lack of crime in Lilium, but here and there he found a bone or two that seemed suspiciously like human bones.

He came across Atlas and Ophelia first, the only dragons as of yet that had been detained.

Atlas leaped at the bars like an excited dog, making a happy noise as he tried to lick Phil’s face excitedly. Phil laughed and told him to get down, petting his head and giving him a quick smooch. Ophelia was Atlas’ back, clinging on for dear life as he jumped around wildly.

“Simmer down,” Phil murmured. “Do you know where Dan is? I need to get to him so I get get you guys out of here.”

Ophelia was the one who answered, Atlas too excited to be able to say anything. “He’s past here, about twenty cells away. They didn’t want him to be able to talk to us.”

Phil smiled at her. “Thank you. I’ll be back for you soon, okay? Hang in there.”

With that, he turned and began to walk down the halls once more, in search for the cell which held Dan.

When Phil saw Dan, his breathing completely stopped and it felt like he had seen him for the first time again. His heart started to pound in his chest, his face flushed, his palms began to perspire. He opened his mouth and found that he couldn’t talk. He went to move forward, but his legs couldn’t move. He was frozen in place, gaping at the man whom he loved, slouched against the wall of the cell.

Phil had never seen Dan so worn out, so defeated. Whenever he was with him, Dan always had this strong demeanor to him, as though he could take on whatever got thrown his way. He was fiery and strong, the grin on his face making him seem as big as the mountains in which he lived. He was rowdy and untamed, a dancing flame in the dark.

And yet, as he sat in the dark cell, only a candle lighting the space with a dim ember, Phil couldn’t help but feel as though his fire was dying out, being sucked into the very concrete in which he sat.

His lips were downturned, his eyes staring at the wall. They were chapped and pale and his eyes had dark circles underneath them. His hair, which was typically a tamed unruly, was now a complete mess atop his head. He must have hidden his emotions extremely well in the courtroom, but now, with nobody around, he let his walls crumble to reveal the agony that was poisoning his bones.

“Dan,” Phil whispered, stepping forward. The walls echoed with his footsteps and Dan glanced up.

Immediately, like a switch, Dan was hopping to his feet and grinning as though nothing was wrong. Phil’s heart hurt, his head hurt, his soul hurt. Phil wanted to take him in his arms, but he couldn’t. Not when there was iron separating them and a key hidden in the King’s robes. “Phil! My Prince! What are you doing down here? Did your father not tell you to stay away?”

Phil chuckled bitterly, even though the situation was not funny in the slightest. He was filled with anger once more, anger because he could not help Dan, because he was one of the most powerful beings in the kingdom and yet he still had no say in most things. “Fuck what my father says, I don’t give a shit anymore,” Phil hissed out. He didn’t miss the way Dan’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Typically Phil spoke in a relatively good manner. He made sure to enunciate his words and to speak properly to show that he was above all other citizens. But right now, Phil couldn’t find the energy in him to speak well when he was angry and hurt and betrayed by his own father, the man who raised him. “But enough about me. Are you okay?”

“I’m in a dungeon,” Dan noted brightly.

“I noticed,” Phil replied flatly. He reached through the bars and grabbed Dan’s hand in his own. When he held it, he could feel the dryness of Dan’s knuckles, how they cracked under his touch. He needed some lotion fast. “Dan, you don’t have to pretend to be okay if you’re not. I’m here for you just as much as you are for me. I won’t just leave you down here, okay?”

Dan sighed and then he was rocking back on his heels, staring up at the ceiling. The candle made shadows dance across his face and he looked a bit like a crazed ghost. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m trying to appear happy because I’m attempting to keep it together. I thought it might help, but so far it has not. Maybe if I keep trying…”

Phil shook his head, irked. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Phil confirmed, and he squeezed Dan’s hand tightly. Painfully. He couldn’t let Dan keep pretending not to feel, trapping everything inside of himself. “Do you know how unhealthy that is? How much that can destroy you? You need to talk to others about how you feel. You need to show it. If you just hide behind a mask, it’s going to eat you alive. And how the hell am I supposed to help if I never even know what you’re thinking right now?!” By now, Phil was tearing up. His eyes were wet and he could already feel himself teetering on the edge of a breakdown. He closed his eyes. Not again. Not again.

There were fingers on his cheek then, wiping away the liquid from his skin. Phil relaxed into the touch, pressed his lips to Dan’s palm. Oh, how he wished that he could feel Dan’s lips against his. “I don’t think you have to worry about it destroying me,” Dan said quietly. Phil opened his eyes and squinted at him. Dan smiled back sheepishly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m going to be dead tomorrow, love.”

Phil shook his head and grabbed Dan’s wrist, pulling him as far up to the bars as he could be. Dan’s face was pressed against the bars, his nose poking between the spaces. His eyes were wide and confused when Phil said, “No you fucking won’t,” in a low growl.

“Yes I will? I was there when your father ordered it.”

Phil looked him dead in the eyes. His face was so close to Dan’s that he could feel his breath against his lips, but Phil was so focused on the fire in his heart to notice. “I won’t let them take away the one thing I truly care about in this world. I’m going to get you out of this.”

“How?” Dan asked breathily. His eyes were glazed over, and Phil couldn’t tell if he was about to cry or if it was because they were so close.

Now that was a question Phil hadn’t figured out the details to quite yet. He lowered his voice so that no guard could overhear him when he answered, nonetheless. “I’m going to find out who did this and I’m going to prove that it wasn’t you. I will die before I see the day that you are hanged, Daniel Howell. I made a promise to court you, and I don’t plan on breaking that promise just yet.”

Dan giggled, a truly delightful sound in the dryness of the dungeons. His eyes were glittering in the half light and he was oh, so beautiful. “And yet you told me that you didn’t know how to court somebody,” he teased, his fingers reaching through the bars to grasp at Phil’s robes. His thumb ran over the groove in Phil’s breast in which he typically wore the Lester crest. Dan didn’t say anything, just looked glanced up at Phil through his eyelashes and smiled sheepishly. “Can you fulfil a request for me?” he asked softly.

Phil was nodding before he even finished the question. At this point, he would do anything to see Dan happy. There was no doubt about that.

“I hate the thought of possibly dying without having the opportunity to kiss somebody.”

Phil’s cheeks went up in flames and he resisted the urge to duck his head. He resorted to teasing instead, tugging on Dan’s fingers to rest his hand on Phil’s heart. “Is that so? Just anybody would do, then?”

Dan hummed and pouted, eyes heavy and pleading. “Well not just anybody, I suppose. It’s gotta be someone I like, I guess.” He pressed down on Phil’s heart and Phil was sure that he could feel the way it was pounding under his touch with nerves. Phil would bet a million dollars that Dan was also nervous as well, even if he didn’t show it.

Leaning forward slightly, Phil bumped his nose against Dan’s and then nuzzled them together like a rabbit. His voice was soft when he spoke next, like he didn’t want to shatter the air around them. “Will I suffice, then?” he asked.

Dan nodded. “You’ll suffice for now.” Then he was leaning forward, pressing his face to the metal bars so that his nose and lips were sticking through them. Closing his eyes, he puckered his lips, waiting. Now it was Phil’s turn to make a decision.

Did he want to kiss Dan? Of course, that wasn’t even a question. But did he want to kiss Dan for the first time through bars? Preferably no. He wanted to be able to hold him, to deepen their kiss, to show this man just how much he meant to him. He couldn’t exactly do that through bars.

However, If Phil had to choose between living his life without ever kissing Dan or just kissing him through the goddamn bars, Phil would pick the latter any time.

With his heart pounding in his ears, his blood rushing through his veins, Phil leaned forward and put his forehead on the bars. He tilted his head slightly so he would be able to reach Dan’s lips past his nose, and then he closed the distance between them.

Phil didn’t get what the big deal was about kissing. Sure, his palms were sweating, his lungs felt like they were about to give out, and his whole body was warm, but he didn’t see fireworks light up behind his eyes. His didn’t feel static electricity. All he felt was Dan’s lips against his, chapped and warm, and his fingertips gripping Phil’s face to pull him closer - as close as he possibly could with bars between them, anyways.

Somehow, Phil felt like this was a much better feeling than those fireworks or static electricity.

When they pulled away, Dan’s eyelids were half shut and his mouth was open slightly. There was a pink tinge on his cheeks and he was so pretty that Phil wanted to cry. “Now that I’ve tasted you, I won’t go another day without kissing you again,” Phil told him. A promise, one that he meant to keep for once. The emotions he’d felt while kissing were simply not going to go away.

“In that case,” Dan murmured, leaning forward again and pecking Phil on the lips lightly. “You should get going. Find some evidence to set me free. We can kiss again later.”

Phil sighed, but nodded reluctantly. He knew that it was time to get going, to finally go on a quest to figure out what had actually happened. It was time to set Dan free once and for all. “I do,” he replied, backing away. He took Dan’s hand off of his chest, squeezed it, and then let Dan retract it back through the bars. “I’ll come see you as soon as I can okay? I swear to God I won’t let you die yet.”

Dan smiled bitterly. “We can hope.”

Phil wanted to promise. He wanted to tell Dan that nothing would happen, that he would die before he let Dan get hanged. But the truth was, Phil couldn’t really change anything unless he found sufficient evidence. He had less than twenty-four hours to find out who the dragon is, to convince his father that Dan hadn’t done anything. In that amount of time, Phil was doubting himself quite a lot. But he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying.

Instead, he nodded and backed away in order to stop himself from kissing Dan once more. “I’ll do my best and I’ll come see you again soon. Hopefully you’ll be out by then.”

Dan nodded, stepping away from the gate. “Stop chatting and go, my Prince,” he teased, and Phil chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ll be back,” he promised, and then he left Dan behind along with his bleeding heart.

He walked back through the tunnels, his eyes drawn downward. He could hear footsteps behind him, ones that were light and belonged to Lennyx. There was a question in the tip of his tongue, which he ended up blurting out. “Lennyx,” he started. “Whose side are you on? My father’s? Or mine?”

Lennyx paused for a millisecond before replying. “I was assigned to serve you, Prince. My loyalty will never change and I will always protect you until the day I die.”

That was always her answer, so it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Lennyx was a good egg and Phil could trust her with all of his secrets. Which was why he wasn’t concerned with her knowledge of his relationship with Dan. “Have you ever been in love before?”

He could imagine Lennyx shaking her head, blonde hair whipping around her face. The metal around her neck clanked together. “No, my lord, and I don’t think I will ever be.” Hesitation. “However I know how hard it is for a loving person to lose somebody they care about. While I can’t relate, I sympathize with you.”

That was news to Phil, but at the same time it didn’t seem like a long shot at all. Phil had known Lennyx for nearly his entire life and she had never shown romantic interest. He’d always just been too focused on himself to notice. He’s heard of people not being romantically attracted to anybody before, and briefly wondered if that was Lennyx. But then he realised that it didn’t matter, that Lennyx was out there living her life how she wanted to, and Phil wasn’t going to butt in.

He turned his head and looked at her, found a small smile on her face. “You’re happy, right? Even though this is your job?”

Lennyx chuckled and nodded, blue eyes shining. “Through you, I have found trust, friendship, and loyalty. Even though this is my job, you have provided me and my family a space to live when we had nothing, and food on our table to eat. You may act all tough, but then you open up to me at 4 in the morning about your feelings. I could not ask for a better honour, Prince Philip.”

Phil sighed, his heart swelling in his chest and his eyes wet. He never knew that someone else respected him so much; and now he was realising just how much he respected Lennyx as well. He sure was lucky. “Please, just call me Phil.”

“But Prince-” Lennyx interjected, only to stop when Phil put his hand up to stop her, shaking his head.

“That’s an order,” he joked, which made Lennyx laugh again.

“Whatever you say, Phil.”

Part Three

[x-fantasy-is-my-reality-x]

Attack on Pranks: Chapter 3 (How it All Started)

It was now 6:00 in the morning and the sun had barely begun to rise over the horizon, tinting the sky a gentle orange.

“Hey guys, do I really have to do this?” Sasha whimpered, as the other girls pushed her forward. “I’m not the fastest runner.”

“Yeah you do Potato Girl,” Ymir replied. “Haven’t you seen Commander Erwin watching?”

He and Hange had occasionally been peeking their heads out the door, checking up on them after every runner.

“Hurry up so I can have my turn!” Mikasa urged.

“What? Then why don’t you go first?” Sasha grumbled. “You’re the fastest out of all of us! You could probably tire each other out and make it easier for us!”

“We already agreed that no one wants to wait for Mikasa to mess with the Captain because that would take too long. Besides, it’s much more entertaining this way.”

“Can we please just get this over with?” Christa begged.

“Okay okay.” Sasha finally conceded and crept towards the door. The rest of the girls all held their breath, waiting for the beast to emerge out of its lair. She knocked three times before flying down the hall, Levi barging out the room after her.

“YOU BRATS ARE DEAD!” He bellowed, using his grappling hooks to propel himself forward. He made a wild grab for her shirt, but Sasha was able to slip through his fingers by a couple of millimeters and turned a corner where they couldn’t see anymore.

“She’s most likely heading for the kitchen,” Ymir grinned.

And she did, swiping a soft loaf bread on the way in and hiding in the pantry. Levi rolled his eyes as he arrived, knowing that the girl would be hiding in one of the pantries or cupboards. He had heard the story of her first day with Shadis from Erwin and had noticed her inhaling any piece of food she could reach during the Opening Feast.

Sasha could hear him approaching closer and closer but was too preoccupied with all the delicious food reserved specifically reserved for the officers to care.

“Stupid recruit,” Levi muttered. He could hear her eating sloppily a couple feet away and he stormed over, yanking open the door a bit too violently, tearing it off the door frame.

“Goddammit!”

A shriek immediately blasted the Corporal’s eardrums and grabbed her by the collar, roughly tossing her out.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He shouted over her screaming, which didn’t cease to deafen him.

His eye twitched dangerously. “Shut up!” He grabbed the food out of her hand and she finally stopped, and then had the audacity to try and wrestle it back. His gray eyes widened when Sasha tugged back at the surprisingly tough piece of bread, which crumbled and tore in their hands. She was flung back while Levi stood there in shock.

He quickly shook himself out of his stupor and advanced on the now terrified girl, who began trying to bribe him with food that she didn’t even have.

“I’ll give you half of everything on my plate tomorrow!”

“You little shits have some balls!” Levi dragged her back kicking and howling by the hair, where she subsequently received a month without dinner.

Letting out a loud huff the short man stomped back into his room, close to where the other girls were waiting for their turns. He plopped down in his chair and rubbed his temples, mentally counting off all the cadets that he had already caught. Originally, he had thought it was just the boys who had collaborated to keep him up all night, but with the arrival of Sasha, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Now, Levi was pretty sure it had something to do with Hange and Erwin, the latter who most people wrongly suspected to be calm and boring. Once, all his cravats had all disappeared, and he had thought Hange was the culprit, except she had been out the entire day with Moblit observing Titans. His cravats were later returned to his dresser dyed a light salmon pink, and Levi had been absolutely livid, interrogating everyone in the castle and scaring all his comrades back to a one hundred feet radius. In the end, he never found out who did it, but had a nagging suspicion that it was the Commander, who was the only who had a key to his room and also the only one he couldn’t impulsively strangle and toss of the roof in a body bag.

He was pulled out of that horrible memory by another knock on the door, and this time it was Christa. She let out a light squeal when she saw him and took off down the hall, Levi following closely behind. Another pair of footsteps joined the chase and he looked back to see a tall, girl with freckles chasing heatedly after them.

“Christa!” Ymir shouted. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

“Ymir!”

Oh right, Levi scoffed. As he recalled, Ymir or whatever her name was, clung onto Christa like a burr the entire time during the feast and warded off any boys who dared come within five feet of the blonde.

“Go back Ymir! It’s not your turn yet!” Christa tried to shoo her back, still running.

The Corporal stopped cold in his tracks at those words, and Ymir couldn’t stop in time, ramming into his back and bowling him over.

“Oh no Ymir!” Christa turned back to catch her taller friend as Levi violently flung her away from him.  

“What is this about a turn?” Levi snarled, and from behind the wall Erwin and Hange began to fidget nervously. Oh balls if he finds out he’ll probably slit our throats in our sleep and then burn our corpses and feed the ashes to the Titans! They looked at each other anxiously.

Erwin was pretty certain that he was the main suspect on Levi’s list of people who dyed his cravats pink, since the cleaning obsessed Captain glared daggers at him for the rest of the month whenever they happened to meet in the halls. Also, not even a week after the prank on humanity’s strongest, Levi had passive aggressively spilled ink all over the Commander’s shirt, staining it black. And no matter how hard he tried, Erwin just couldn’t seem to get it out, making him almost certain that Levi had made it himself for that sole purpose as the ink he always ordered was washable. Then, his subordinate had put blue powder in the showerhead so that when Erwin turned on the water it came out a dark blue that stayed in his eyebrows and hair for about four days. Levi had actually laughed when he heard Erwin’s surprised yelps from inside the bathroom as he listened in, and to top it all off he was so startled that he had run out completely naked smacking right into Gunther who was passing by, ending up on top of him. As if the embarrassment of falling onto his comrade as nude as the day he was born wasn’t enough, Eld was there to witness the whole thing.

All three of them refused to make eye contact for a week, and Levi wasn’t even mad about the blue water the Commander trailed all over the place when he had stumbled out of the shower.

And since Erwin didn’t have any official evidence on whether or not Levi was the real culprit, the blond man could only seethe silently at the smug look on the Corporal’s face every time they sat together. So, consider this payback.

And the mad scientist next to Erwin wasn’t on Levi’s good side either. Two days ago, she had carelessly tracked mud and rain all over the entire freshly mopped castle and then later accidentally poured a kettle of his favorite tea all over his head when she tripped on her own boot. (And then cracked a joke about his height as she sprinted away to try and diffuse the tension, which obviously didn’t work very well.)

“Should we bar the door?” Hange whispered.

“No, if we do that then we might as well tape a sign on our foreheads that say, ‘We put the recruits up to it.’ Just keep watching for now,” Erwin exhaled.

Outside, Levi continued to try and pry information out of the two girls, who seemed to have now clamped their mouths shut. After about twenty minutes of threats and cursing with no advancement whatsoever, they were sent back to their barracks with two months of bathroom duty while Levi trudged back to his room.

If he remembered correctly, there was still one more recruit left…

[owlsshadows]

Purpose (AnS, Kiki x Izana) Chapter 3 Update!

Linking doesn’t work so: READ ON AO3 OR READ MORE HERE:

They say he is strict, some even calls him a rule-freak, yet Marquis Haruka can still surprise Izana every now and then with something unconventional. One of these things he could never understand – the biggest of all the Marquis’ mysteries after all – is how he made a thief kid found on his premises, with a lethal wound nonetheless, his right hand man.

The man who currently goes by the mononym Obi has been the subject of Izana’s curiosity since the very first time Haruka took him along to the castle.

Then, the Marquis tried to use him as to dissuade the bird girl from pursuing her relationship with Zen – and while the man turned out to be an absolutely impeccable creeper, his tricks and threats backfired, fueling the girl’s determination, therefore inadvertently he was also the catalyzer for the biggest romance scandal in the history of the Wisteria clan; for which Izana could still not forgive him.

If he killed the girl as any other assassin would have, Izana would not be in such a desperate position.

Not that Izana would ever support such crude solutions.

Not openly, at least.

Since that very first time Izana caught him in the crown of a tree, the king has spent a considerable amount of time and money to discover the past of him – but all he ever found was lies and aliases. Obi has visited the royal castle many times, always accompanying Haruka like an old black cat, and every time Izana finds him more and more confusing; every offhanded comment of his a mystery.

He has knowledge on how to read maps and affinity to understand strategies, but no lexical knowledge on any of the great strategists.

He knows how to play chess, but calls the pieces on made-up names.

He has the manners to convincingly act the role of a footman, a priest, a knight, once he even impersonated a young pharmacist when a foreign scientist was not willing to listen to Ryuu, the child prodigy of the castle – yet he dares to lean leisurely against the doorframe of the king's waiting room, nonchalantly picking his nose while his lord awaits his audience with the king.

Izana decides to ignore him for now, calling for his master and closing the door in front of his face.

“If you don’t mind, I have something to discuss that… can’t have an audience,” Izana says instead of a greeting.

“I understand.”

“This is regarding my upcoming royal visit to Tanbarun.”

Haruka nods, waiting for orders.

“As you know,” Izana starts, gathering his thoughts on the go, “with my brother giving up his royal status to marry his lover, I currently have no legal heir.”

“I feel partially responsible for that,” the lord bows, but Izana signals him to raise.

“I didn’t call for you to hold you accountable, I have a favor to ask. My mother will move to Wistal for the duration of my visit. However, I need someone to bring my brother back in case something happens to me.”

“Your Majesty, I…”

“I don’t plan to die,” Izana cuts in. “But we need this country up and running even if I do, and Zen has the right attributes to become a king. Once he loses that hot head of his, that is.” Haruka stifles a laugh – and Izana is yet again surprised, wondering whether the sense of humor can be learned. The Haruka of his memories, especially the ones from his adolescence, seemed to have none. “I will have a letter prepared on his royal pardon entrusted to you before I go. I want you to get Zen back on the mainland.”

“I will do the needful.”

“Good. One more thing. Actually two.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Reconcile with my mother. It’s terrible seeing twins fight.”

“… as you wish.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Izana says, sweet satisfaction rushing through his veins. He is petty as it is, enjoying every moment he can – it is payback for the humiliation he felt when his uncle scolded him as a child.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Great. Now, please call in your aide for me. You may go.”

“My aide?”

“Isn’t the one calling himself Obi your aide, uncle?” Izana looks up at Haruka with innocent eyes. The Marquis squints back at him suspiciously.

“Yes, he is,” he says.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Izana nods. Knowing Haruto, he sometimes wonders how can twins be so different. His mother is eccentric, witty and sharp; his uncle is peculiar in the weirdest of ways, overly honest and humorless.

“Alright,” Haruka says, opening the door. “Just don’t kill him.”

Izana wonders how circumstances may make two very similar people end up very different; yet other circumstances close the gap between their personalities. The influence of Obi may just be enough to, slowly but surely, give Haruka an edge.

“I wonder shouldn’t your worries be counter wise?”

 *

 The black cat stands in the door, assessing his situation. He has his guard up, face still like a marble statue, almond shaped eyes scanning his surroundings swiftly.

“Come on in,” Izana greets. “And close the door.”

Obi nods and he follows the order without making a single noise: neither the clicking of the doorknob, nor his footsteps can be heard. Could he afford it, Izana would be impressed. As no such luxury is granted to the ruler of a country, he cuts straight to the case.

“Your hand-to-hand combat session got high praise,” he says. “The trainer of our rookie knights advised me to incorporate your teachings into their agenda.”

“I’m unworthy, Your Majesty.”

“Is this a rejection? Even before I could make my offer?”

“I have no plans to leave Lord Haruka’s side.”

“Not even to teach the next generation of knights?” he asks.

Haruka’s aide burst into laughter. It starts as a surprised snort, bubbling up into a full-fledged laugh that bends him by the waist.

“I get it. Something that works on Haruka will not work on you, am I right?” Izana asks.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Obi apologizes as his fit of laughter seizes, and Izana has to give credit to him for daring to laugh straight into a king’s face. “I admire your efforts to persuade me. I just… don’t see how the knights could benefit from learning how to move like a ruffian. Most of my tricks are not possible to do in an armor.”

“Their trainer said the same thing. However, she reasoned that as knights the kids will need to be ready to fight all kinds of bandits. The better you know your enemy, the better you can do against them.”

“She seems like a smart one.”

“She is brilliant,” Izana replies. “The best swordsman in the country.”

“And you trust her decision enough to make a fool out of you in front of a simple aide like me?” Obi counters. Izana has to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the man has enough charm to pull off such audacious manners. It is in these moments he thinks, should he not be a king and Obi a soldier, they would make great friends.

“I have my doubts,” Izana admits, leaning closer. “You have, after all, many secrets.”

“Don’t we all do, Your Majesty?” Obi asks, not waiting for a reply. “If you were so concerned about my past, I believe you would’ve already done your research, given how long it has been since I first joined Lord Haruka.”

“Don’t you worry,” Izana says, and he enjoys for a moment the fear crossing the aide’s face. “You piqued my interest the day the bird girl received that message to leave.”

“About that…” the man starts, but Izana cuts in his words.

“We’re not here to discuss what happened back then, but to talk about the possibility of you training the newbies. My concerns are rather about your behavior. I’m afraid one audacious knight is enough for this country.”

“I know it may come surprising to you, Your Majesty, but I can behave.”

“How come I’ve never seen it?”

“You don’t quite like me, do you?”

“I don’t particularly fancy your guts,” Izana admits. “Should I?”

I have nothing,” Obi shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing, but a rather particular skillset I’m open to share with those who deserve it. And while this skillset includes proper court manners you did not quite earn it, Your Majesty.”

“You’re not very afraid of death, are you?” Izana asks, smirking. “So I didn’t earn it. Not yet? Or not at all?”

“I didn’t sense any will to earn it so far, Your Majesty.”

“So you say that you provoke me because you want me to earn your respect?”

“You are the king of this country, after all. If I were to, say, stay for a few more years, wouldn’t it be better to spend it with a ruler I can look up to?”

“Do you find me despicable, Obi?”

“You are very clever, Your Majesty. But you lack compassion.”

“I guess I can accept this,” Izana says. “Out of the two of us, it has always been Zen the crowd loved.”

“I am the crowd,” Obi replies.

“So, you pick Zen too?”

“I liked that easy-going charisma.”

“It’s a shame he chose a woman over his country.”

“Do you think so?”

“He would’ve been a great king.”

“I’m afraid I can’t reply to this without risking my head, Your Majesty.”

“Train the kids then,” Izana noted. “Join Lady Seiran in the session tomorrow morning.”

“If this is the price, I must pay a visit,” Obi says, bowing slightly. “I can’t promise, however, that I will train the knights on the long run…”

“Lord Haruka is to stay with us until the end of next week. Make your decision until then.”

“Do you think my opinion will change?”

“Who knows? I’m certain. I might be wrong. I am but a man undeserving your rather particular skillset after all,” Izana says, motioning Obi to leave. “On your way out, will you call for Lord Zakura for me?”

 *

 It was him who summoned her, Izana is still surprised when the door opens, and Kiki enters the room.

Under the cape she discards arriving, she wears but a thin dress draped along her body. Izana has only seen this type of dress in the southern seaside towns. It’s a trickery of one big rectangle of fine fabric, tied together under the breasts but leaving both sides dangerously open. It is made for the unbearably hot summer days, and is worn by both men and women, with the men’s clothe shorter, like a tunic, worn with a pair of shorts and sandals and women wearing theirs over thin linen underwear and underskirts – lest for the ones who live off their beauty. Kept women, they are called, caged songbirds living in petit villas along the shore, spending their days hanging around their balconies waiting for their respective lords.

It surprises him to see the dress on her, the daughter of the north, the future head of the Seiran family. Especiall, since – and it is clear the moment she moves, the moment she lifts her arms to assess her hair after removing her cape and in the slit of her dress he can see the shadow under her breast – she has nothing underneath. As she steps closer, the material sinks between her legs, revealing the side of a naked thigh, a glimpse of a hipbone.

Izana gulps down heard, but his throat is like sandpaper. His blood sinks, leaving too little in the head and too much between his legs. He did not plan to touch her. It still takes him a huge amount of self-restraint not to push her down in that very moment, ravishing her on the floor.

“Good evening, Kiki,” he croaks, vocal cords less cooperative that he would like to.

“Good evening,” the woman replies.

“Did you eat?” Izana asks, motioning towards the fruit he has ordered to the room. Kiki nods and shakes her head simultaneously, resulting a weird bob which makes her lightly done bun bob on top of her head, few strands coming loose – driving Izana crazy. He clears his throat to restore his clear mind, in vain. While he walks to the table in the room, his steps feel strained, his posture rigid. He huffs as he plops down a chair. “Good, I assume?” he asks. “You can still take a few bites if you want, please come and sit down, I want to talk to you.”

Kiki walks up to the chair, and her nipples, her nipples show through the fine material of her dress. Izana is thankful for the table that separates them.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks, voice almost timid – a refreshing reminder for Izana that while she is alluring, she is not quite aware of her effects on him. He lets out a sigh, relieved.

She tried, she very obviously tried to be tempting – probably as a reaction to the comments he made about her nightgown – but she is not a seductress by nature.

“I would like to ask you to think of a signal system we can use in the future,” he says, and the eyes meeting him are eager, honest, hard-working. The Kiki he knows faces him, with a body he was never quite aware of before. “I would like you to indicate which days are good for you,” he continues.

Kiki purses her lips, raising her eyes to the far left – she is thinking, searching for ideas in her brain.

“All days are good,” she replies after a while.

“Except for days when a woman shall not be touched,” Izana says, carefully, calling her eyes back to him. The blush that spreads across her face at the mention of her cycle is endearingly bright.

“True that,” she nods, shoulders sinking. “Should I signal then, somehow, when I am allowed to touch?”

Izana croaks again, throat never quite wet enough to talk.

“I mean… if there is something holding you up, or you don’t feel good, I don’t want to force myself on you. But as I have a busy schedule, I can’t propose a plan to you beforehand, with available slots for fucking.”

If Kiki is bothered by his coarseness she does not show. Instead, she nods seriously, as someone deep in thought.

“Yeah, in your case it might be difficult to come up with a mating schedule,” she says, and her phrasing make Izana burst out in laughter. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

“Nothing worse than what I said,” Izana confirms, collecting himself.

“I cannot guarantee that I will be ready to do it any time of the day when you have free time, but I can think of a way to let you know of days when I am fine and days when I am not,” Kiki continues then.

“Care to share your ideas?”

“I think the easiest would be this,” she says, peeling a fine leather strip off her wrist. “I use these often to tie my hair in a ponytail. If the strip is blue, I am good, if it’s black, not good.”

“This is brilliant. But will I see that on days we don’t meet, for example?”

“Ah… yeah. Then what if I send you a letter each day?”

“Footmen are chatty. They will eventually catch on.”

“Then what if,” she continues, eyes sparkling with the way brainstorming fired her up, “I tie a ribbon to the doorknob?”

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious?” Izana asks. “I love all of your ideas though.”

“Then! Then. Then… I am out of ideas for now. May I think about it for a few days?”

“Until then I can still sneak messages to you and back,” Izana nods in agreement. “Good.”

“Good,” Kiki repeats, and the room falls silent.

So deafeningly silent.

The only sound Izana hears is the soft crackling of the fire and the barely audible breaths of them. Suddenly he is aware of Kiki again.

He is aware of the intent eyes on him.

“Do you have something else to discuss?” he asks, chewing on the insides of his mouth to suppress his nerves.

“I know that I am not an adequate lover,” Kiki starts. “I don’t know how to please you, and I don’t know how to find pleasure myself.”

“Pleasure.” Myself, she said.

“I would like you to show me what you love, and I would like to ask you to help me discover my sensitive spots.”

A thick strand of hair falls from her bun, dangling idly behind her shoulder. He wants to undo it all.

He wants to undo her.

 ***

 Undoing her belt Izana’s hands sink under her dress through the slit open sides, palms settling on her waist. Kiki stiffens when she feels his touch on her skin, suddenly losing all her determination.

It is happening, and she has barely any idea what ‘it’ really is.

His smell invades her nose as he leans close.

“Breathe,” he says, voice soft yet broken on a suppressed chuckle.

She inhales, deep and slow, blood drumming in her ears.

The palm moves. It follows the curve of her waist down, fingers hooking around her bone, thumbs teasing the sensitive skin underneath. The fabric opens and closes upon his touch, only revealing a glimpse of skin every inch the way, baring it to the lukewarm air of the room, which feels ice cold in comparison to the burning hot trail Izana’s hands leave behind.

When she trembles ever so slightly, Izana nudges her chin with his nose, ordering her without words to bare her neck for him.

He kisses down on her pulse softly, hands hovering over her hipbones, keeping her in place.  His touch is feather-light; tickling her skin. His lips close on her throat, sucking and nibbling at it, marching higher and higher until he reaches the edges of her chin.

The feeling is new, wet, hot, entirely not unpleasant. Kiki closes her eyes, letting the sensation run through her body. She feels as his fingers curl, dig deeper into her skin and, guided by his wordless signs, she steps in, lips finding his.

No one would have ever kissed her like this – not that no one wanted; she realizes in the split moment their eyes meet and she sees hunger, but that she would have never let it happen.

(Maybe if Mitsuhide agreed to marry her –)

– hands drag her back to reality, sliding down her thighs, grabbing them, pulling one leg up against his side, drawing her up against his body. Her hands, placed tentatively on his shoulder, tremble as she feels the bulge of his erection press against her inner thigh.

The palms holding her flatten, fingers opening around her legs, and his grab becomes a caress, soft and mellow.

“Don’t worry,” Izana breathes, taking half step back.

“I don’t,” Kiki assures, gripping firmly on his shoulders. “It just…”

(… surprised me, she wants to say, but she swallows it back. It’s a lie. She has seen his eyes. She knew he wanted her.)

“It’s new,” she says instead.

Izana looks at her defeated, desire so painfully clear on his face it casts a blush over Kiki’s face. To her surprise, he buries his face in her shoulder. She feels his hot air run down her arm as he huffs.

“Is it bad?” he asks after what it seems like an eternity.

“No,” Kiki confirms. “I was just a bit taken aback.”

“Sorry,” she hears Izana’s murmur, and as she looks down to see his face, she is presented with a bright red ear peeking through blonde locks.

She feels inclined to touch it; to run her fingers through his hair and massage the soft end of his earlobe.

“I quite liked,” she starts, searching for words, “the friction… it’s just that I’ve never touched one before and I’m curious.”

“You drive me crazy.”

“I didn’t intend to.”

“Really?” Izana looks up, hands flying up to the ties on the shoulder of her dress. “You come dressed like this, and you say you had no intention to drive me absolutely mad?”

He loosens her dress and she lets it fall to the floor.

“You know I didn’t plan to touch you today,” Izana asserts.

“I feel fine,” she insists. “My body is fine. There is no need for you to hold back.”

“You know, no one has ever tried to seduce me this badly,” he laughs, cupping her face in his palms. “The way you present your body is a masterpiece, but all that comes out of your mouth is absolutely maddening.”

“I’ve told you before; I’m not an adequate lover,” Kiki says irritably.

“Yeah,” Izana agrees. “You are a terrible lover.”

“That’s why I asked you to teach me…”

“Shush. Don’t ever repeat what you said. I could barely survive hearing it once.”

Kiki looks at him, doubting every word he says, but oh, how pained he looks and how fragile he seems as he stands before her – and she has overheard the tales hushed in secluded corners between maids about how desire can make a man weak, but she has never associated the thought with herself.

How she could make Izana tremble with want.

“So…” she starts, careful to hide the triumphant tone from her voice, “can I touch it?”

The grumble she receives is barely human. She takes it as a go ahead.

And it’s no longer the king of Clarines before her.

Not even Izana Wistalia, the husband of Haki.

Just a man she found in this room. A man who sparred with her. A man who, as stakes stand, loses this round.

[junker-town]

A good NFL quarterback isn’t *that* hard to find

Photo by Rob Carr/Getty Images

This week, the best quarterbacks in the league were undervalued, and some of the most vaunted sucked out loud.

The NFL and NFL-adjacent people are so bad at evaluating quarterbacks, it’s scary.

It feels perfect to bring this up now, considering the weekend we just had. Colin Kaepernick held a workout and proved he’s still the same really good player he was when he was forced out of the league — all while golden children and heirs apparent stunk up my TV so bad I wanted to change the channel on multiple games. Of course, the opposite is true too, and you might see a theme here while we break down the best and worst quarterbacks of the weekend.

Lamar Jackson posted a QB rating of 139.2, his fifth game this season finishing with a rating over 100. This from a guy who some honestly, fervently believed was going to have to move to wide receiver in the NFL in order to be effective.

How the hell has Dak Prescott’s season been so quiet? I understand we all have this unspoken oath not to compliment anything the Cowboys do, but like ... damn he’s been phenomenal. On Sunday, Prescott became the first Cowboys quarterback to throw for over 3,000 yards in the first 10 games of a season. At this pace, he will finish with over 5,100 yards and 34 touchdowns. Prescott wasn’t taken until the fourth round of the 2016 draft. It’s early to say it, but we can go there: He might be the best QB of that class, period.

Then there’s Jacksonville. This one is a little more complicated. On the one hand I get it; the Jags paid a lot of money to Nick Foles, and the old NFL adage is that guys shouldn’t lose their jobs due to injury. On the other hand, no team deserves more of a pass in breaking unwritten rules than the Jaguars. They hadn’t seen inspiring quarterback play through two presidents, maybe longer depending on how highly you value David Garrard. Then finally someone exciting comes along in Gardner Minshew and gives fans hope. Sure, he struggled a little recently, but Minshew was whisked away just so Foles could return and get blown out by the Colts.

Meanwhile in Carolina, the Panthers learned that maybe, just maybe, Kyle Allen isn’t the second coming of Tom Brady. On Sunday, he threw four interceptions against one of the league’s worst pass defenses, helping the Panthers to a 29-3 loss against the hapless Falcons. Remember when Allen was so transcendent Cam Newton was out the door? Yeah, that was 10 days ago ... lol. So dumb.

Mitchell Trubisky ain’t it — at least not this season. The Bears have a good enough defense that they could probably make waves right now if they had someone who didn’t need 43 throws to get 190 yards.

And a reminder:

Mitchell Trubisky was drafted 2nd overall in the 2017 NFL Draft. Patrick Mahomes was drafted 10th and Deshaun Watson was drafted 12th. pic.twitter.com/6ft35Uzq2a

— NFL Research (@NFLResearch) November 18, 2019

The point of all this is to note just how dumb the NFL has gotten when it comes to the quarterback position. There’s such a thing as overthinking the obvious, and passers have been turned into pretzels with tenuous hyperbole, overexaggerated criticism, and bizarre, tangential justifications for potential failure like hand size or “ability to process information.”

My tip to the NFL teams out there trying to find a quarterback in 2020 and beyond: If you have a guy and he doesn’t suck, don’t part ways with him. If you don’t have a guy, find one in college who is good and can win games, and then draft him. Done. The rest is all noise.

My second tip to NFL teams in need of a quarterback: If you’re hovering around the .500 mark thanks to your defense and running back, but keep getting let down by the guy throwing the football, sign Kaepernick, you dumbos. I know someone out there might convince you he’d be a “distraction,” but I promise you watching Kyle Allen throw four interceptions, or Trubisky average 4.4 YPA is way more distracting that anything Kap could do. Hear me, Panthers? Listening, Bears?

Anyway, let’s jump around the league before I get death threats.

The customer is always right.

"Sell the team! Sell the team!" pic.twitter.com/0oM1vdHtdx

— Jim Brady (@jimbrady) November 17, 2019

This chant should be legally binding. I don’t know how we’d enforce it, but I’m sure there’s some way we could claim the Washington NFL team by eminent domain. I want to give this team back to the fans. By all accounts, the franchise is worth $3.4 billion. That means if we just tacked 86 cents on everyone’s taxes a month, we could all claim ownership of the team.

I’m not a legal expert but I am 100 percent sure this will work. I mean, it can’t be worse than the alternative, which is seeing $10 home tickets not ever sell out in Washington.

Rules don’t make sense anymore.

As a leader in the NFL, we need someone new in New York deciding calls. https://t.co/szdHjWhKbR

— Deandre Hopkins (@DeAndreHopkins) November 17, 2019

That was not called a penalty, even after a challenge. Then:

This was called DEFENSIVE pass interference on the #Cardinals pic.twitter.com/crTCZYz5EE

— Dov Kleiman (@NFL_DovKleiman) November 17, 2019

I know people are saying the 49ers’ non-call is payback for a blown call earlier, but I think we should just accept that NFL refs try to have make goods. They should have to turn to the camera and make the physical embodiment of the shrug emoji when they know a call is coming down that everyone hates and it will make no sense. That way, at least we could be a little more understanding.

I’d like to file a missing person’s report on Jared Goff.

What has happened to our beautiful, sweet, football boy? The last time I really paid attention to him, Goff was this 4,000-yard, MVP-maybe player who took the Rams to the Super Bowl.

Now he’s basically Sam Darnold, but with a better haircut, an intact spleen, and a greater chance I’d mistake him for Ryan Gosling while squinting. Don’t believe me?

Oh, you probably wanted a stat comparison ...

Darnold: 148/234 (63.2%), 1,600 yds, 11 TD, 10 INT, 81.1 rating Goff: 225/373 (60.3%), 2,783 yds, 11 TD, 10 INT, 82.1 rating

Anthony Miller with the sneak of the week.

pic.twitter.com/lh6nLzHBtc

— Will Brinson (@WillBrinson) November 18, 2019

I totally respect the “sneaking one more cookie from the jar” kind of hustle on this play. Who cares if you’re in a stadium full of people? You only need to fool a few zebras to make this all pay off.

The NFL’s most emotional hip.

The Bears say Mitch Trubisky has a hip injury and is questionable to return.

— JJ Stankevitz (@JJStankevitz) November 18, 2019

The Bears didn’t take this hip news well.

If you’re watching on TV, you saw NBC capture this. Of course, we’ll have questions for Matt Nagy after the game. #Bears pic.twitter.com/QECPMY4irn

— Rich Campbell (@Rich_Campbell) November 18, 2019

Shameless self-promotion for my memes.

Ron showing up at Cam's house tonight like pic.twitter.com/2YiVBNKCka

— James Dator (@James_Dator) November 17, 2019

For the love of God, don’t get rid of Cam Newton, Panthers.

[clanmccrackengaming]

Chapter 1

With the start of the chapter, you are informed that you are to be a new instructor at the Officers Academy located within Gareg Mach Monastery. The Church of Seiros is also headquartered here and both are run by the Archbishop Lady Rhea. She informs me of the appointment, and that it hasn’t been decided which house I will instruct. I’m tasked with going out to talk to the students and determine which house I would like to be the head of.

Spoilers: I picked Golden Deer

After that is finalized, I’m told that at the end of the month we are having a mock battle pitting the 3 houses against each other.

  Week 1 Explore

I’m then given leave to explore more of the monastery.  I run into Dedue of the Blue Lions he has a mission for me. He would like me to plant some seeds int he green house. Sylvain, also of the Blue Lions, wants me to invite a couple students for dinner, and Flayn would like me to fish for her. I do the meal first. Inviting Lysnythia and Marianne for the meal. This raises my professor rating up 1 level. Then I fish using the bait Flayn gave me, and finally I planted the seeds Dedue gave me. Finished with the tasks at hand, I called it quits on my exploration and progressed to the next week

Week 2 Assignment

Now it is time for the Mock Battle everyone has been so excited for. Claude tried to suggest some underhanded tactics, but I wasn’t hearing it. We were going to do this battle fair and square.

Sadly, what I didn’t know was that while I was being totally fair minded about the situation, and fielding my squad of level 1s and 2s, everyone else was going to be fielding level 7-9s. Oh, also it will be a 2 on 1 situation. So much for being fair…

For this battle every house is able to field 5 members. For us, Byleth and Claude are mandatory. For the remaining 3 spots I selected Lysynthia, Leonie, and Hilda.

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the main reasons I chose these three in particular is because Lysynthia is one of the better mages in the game, she is ranged, and the faster I level her up the easier the game will be. Leonie is an excellent ranged student, and she is arguably the best archer in the Golden Deer. More than that though, is her personal ability Rivalry. If she is placed next to a male ally (in this case, Byleth) she will deal 2 more damage and receive 2 less damage. Seeing as how I was planning on parking her next to Byleth anyway for the exp boost this works out well. Hilda is a melee fighter, but her personal ability Advocate will boost the damage of an adjacent male ally by 3. Seeing as we are going to be out numbered and out gunned we might as well try for the biggest possible boosts there are.

The only other point to note with this fight is that while losing Byleth or Claude will be a game over, and other member lost will not result in permadeth, so I dont need to be absolutely rigid about keeping everyone alive. At least not in this fight.

Starting off the battle I turn on the danger area map and find a grove of trees to the west that will draw down Ferdinand but wont aggro Hubert. There is another grove to the east what will aggro Ashe. I park Byleth in the west and Claude in the east. Hilda sits next to Claude out of threat range. Leonie is south of Byleth and Lysynthia sits next to him as well.

On enemy phase Ferdinand comes down to Byleth and hits a solid blow. Byleth retaliates. Hubert comes about half way down, so that the entire group in those trees in in his range. Ashe shoots at Claude and Claude returns fire. Next round I start with Leonie into Ferd and finish him off with Lysynthia. Pop a vulnerary on Byleth and hope for the best. Claude shoots into Ashe, but misses. Seriously. Claude had a 96% chance to hit! And of course, Ashe who only has a 60% chance lands both of his hits. Hilda went in for an attack on Ashe, but it wouldn’t seal the deal. Instead she opted for the Combat Art Smash and finished him off that way instead.

Enemy phase Hubert zips over towards Hilda is just melts her. 19 damage per attack, a double attack, and the second one crit. There just wasn’t any surviving that. It’s OK Hilda. Go sit on the bench for a bit. Claude came out of the trees and curved shot out of Huberts range, dealing a nice bit of damage. Leonie, and Lysynthia did some chip damage to Hubert at great cost to themselves and Byleth was able to step in and finish him off with a Combat Art. He gained a level for that.

A bit better this time.

We heal up and move west with the goal of using Claude’s superior range to draw out Edelgard and Dorathea. Claude lines up the shot but misses again! I mean it was only a 50% chance to hit, but come on Claude that’s two. You are letting me down.

Edel and Dora come down and I position myself so that Byleth is the only possible target for her (Byleth has the best Res of the bunch by far) Fortunately Dora missed (somehow) and we set up to take her out on player turn. Dora falls and Edelgard targets Byleth who was closest. 2 HP left, Yikes! On the following Player Phase Claude takes down Edelgard and gains a level.

Not the greatest stat ups, but I’ll take them. Cha in particular is supposed to be good

Again we heal up and take out Manuela, nothing of note happened there. The Blue lions at this point make a bee line for us. Dedue and Mercedes reach us first, Lysynthia blasts Dedue with her last spell for little effect while Claude, Leonie, and Byleth target Mercedes. Mercy falls, and Dedue punts Lysynthia clear off the field. That was painful to watch honestly. Poor Lysynthia, gots ta go sit on the bench next to Hilda.

Dimitri attacks and take Leonie out. At this point Im thinking that this run is going to end in a game over because I don’t really see a way that both Claude and Byleth can get through Dimitri’s next turn. So biting the bullet, Claude uses Curve Shot for a bit of damage and Byleth attacks with Wrath Strike. This leaves Dimitri at 3 HP, and Byleth at 2. Dimitri attacks Byleth and misses… Byleth counters and takes him out. He had an 87% chance to hit. There was no way I was expecting to come out of that encounter alive, but man… Fate giveth and fate doth taketh away. Must have been payback for those earlier misses for Claude.

Anyway, all that remains is Hanneman. Heal up again on the Heal square, and position Byleth on the edge of his range to lure him out. Byleth takes the attack on the nose, lets Claude get in a Curved Shot from outside Hanneman’s range then Byleth charges in with a pair of Knuckles. Hits twice for 7 each, takes another shot to the face, and hits twice more. Hanneman drops. Byleth gained a level from the exchange and we won the battle.

All that effort and this is the level up I’m given? /sadness

Without any doubt from anyone at all Byleth was the MVP. 22 rounds doesn’t seem overly much.

    Overview

Byleth +2 Levels: +1 HP, +1 Mag, +2 Dex, +1 Lck, +1 Def, +1 Cha

Claude +1 Level: +1 HP, +1 Dex, +1 Res, +1 Cha

Hilda Retreated (Not Fatal)

Lysynthia Retreated (Not Fatal)

Leonie Retreated (Not Fatal)

  Total number of levels gained: 5

Total number of unsatisfactory levels ( >= 2 Stat ups): 3

  FE Golden Deer Maddening: Chapter 1 Chapter 1 With the start of the chapter, you are informed that you are to be a new instructor at the Officers Academy located within Gareg Mach Monastery.

[apprenticemages]

Busy, busy week at shows set up for the final arcs and penultimate episodes!  Hinata and Aoi reconcile, Harakuna gets amped up, and Hanebado is…  well, once again Hanebado.

All that and more after the jump! The shows that I am watching are in bold, shows my wife and I are watching together are in bold italics, and strikethrough marks dropped shows.

Attack on Titan 3 / Shingeki no Kyojin Ep 9 (Ep 46)

Is it just me…  Or did that victory feel just a little unearned?  From desperate worries and plans to Titan guts splattered about the landscape all in the span of a single episode.  I understand that they’re picking up the pacing this season because the political stuff is boooooring!  But I think they could have spent a little more time here.  Yes, I’ve seen the argument that this displays how skilled they’ve become.  I counter that with the immense  strength and threat they built up the Reiss Titan to be.

Cells at Work / Hataraku Saibou Ep 3

Not the best episode ever…  Very preachy (that is, way too much Narrator) and they just couldn’t resist yet another “fighting the infection” plotline.  Still, plenty of Platelet fanservice so it wasn’t all bad.

Seriously, CGDCT/moe spinoff based on the Platelets – when?

Chio’s School Road / Chio-chan no Tsuugakuro Ep 11 Chio’s has settled into what can be best described as comfortable mediocrity.  Nothing really wrong with that per se…  It just hasn’t been as consistently funny as it was early on.  That being said, I laughed my _ss off during the first segment.  The series is at its absolute best when it gets inside the insanity that lives in Chio’s head.

Encouragement of Climb 3 / Yama no Susume 3 Ep 12

And the conflict between Aoi and Hinata is resolved – not with a bang, but with an old joke shared between close friends.  Aoi’s staunch insistence on standing by her friend rather than continuing the climb broke the logjam in Hinata’s feelings and they were finally able to talk it out.  Perfect.

I kept waiting for Aoi to make a reference to the incident on Mt Fuji, and I’m glad she didn’t.  This isn’t paybacks, it’s about what friends do for each other.

The girls sleeping on the long train ride home…  Priceless.  Who want to bet that right out of the frame, Aoi and Hinata are holding hands?  They don’t have to show us.  We know.

Grand Blue Dreaming Ep 10

I went back and checked the manga, and yep, they’re skipping stuff.  They kept all but a couple of Cakey’s best lines/bits – and the ones they skipped don’t matter except in the unlikely chance that Grand Blue Dreaming gets a third season.  Have I mentioned how much I love Cakey?  She’s the only sane one in the bunch and it’s funny watching her try to maintain her balance (and sanity) in and amongst the madness of PAB.

They also cut the funniest part of Iori bunking with Nanaka and Azusa, but then they trimmed all the groundwork laid in previous chapters.  (tl;dr version: Azusa has the hots for Nanaka, part of the reason he bunked with them was to “protect” Nanaka.)

From the preview, they are going to hit the pool scene – my absolute favorite bit from the Okinawa arc.

This is only the second time I’ve watched an anime where I was familiar with the source…  And it’s been a very different experience from watching Sweetness & Lightning in that respect.  Dreaming is a serial, and they had to trim to fit chapters into episodes and to fit the whole thing into a single cour while also reaching a natural stopping point.  Sweetness on the other hand was episodic and they could and did skip about to maintain the pace of the series without worrying quite so much about adaptation issues.

Hanebado! Ep 11

Once again Hanebado demonstrates its amazing skill at spending two-thirds of an episode either on complete irrelevancies or going back over well covered ground.  That match though…  When it gets to actually playing, it seriously, seriously delivers.

If the series matched the quality of it’s musical cues…  we’d be having a very different conversation.

Harukana Receive Ep 11

Some folks are saying this isn’t “actually” a sports anime…  And really, I dunno.  It certainly works as one for me – I mean the whole darn show is about girls participating in a sport isn’t it?  No, it’s not fifty eps long.  Nor does it go into obsessive detail about things.  But it strikes me that neither is central to any kind of useful definition of a genre.

Either way, this was a damn fine episode.  I spent a good part of it practically leaning forward in my seat anticipating what might come next.  They did a good job modulating the tension with flashbacks and turning the camera on the folks watching the match.  I enjoyed the heck out of it.

My Hero Academia 3 /  Boku no Hero Academia 3 Ep 15 (Ep 61)

Not sure I understand what all the fuss is about – Bakugou sure is a puzzle sometimes.  But, All Might was happy and pretty much every review I’ve read was pleased, so whatever.

Music Girls / Ongaku Shoujo Ep 11

Once again Uori is being a self-centered so-and-so, and once again all is forgiven and the other girls welcome her back with open arms.  Sigh.  This is a well-worn trope in anime that feature any kind of group of people and not one I enjoy when done so badly.

Which inspired this thought: https://twitter.com/DerekL1963/status/1041396281719971840

It’s never going to happen, but I can dream can’t I?

=========

Well, there you have it!  Another week in the books.

It’s been nice this week, the heat has finally broken which means I can cook again…  Had some lovely chicken curry rice last night, and am thinking of making up a big pot of veggie soup this weekend.  OTOH, Hisone to Masotan (Dragon Pilot) drops on Netflix tomorrow so I might want to pick something that doesn’t take quite so much attention.  (I’m currently thinking of marathoning it on Sat.)

Next week’s entry may be shorter than usual because we’re taking off early Wens afternoon to drive over to the Big City to catch My Hero Academia: Two Heroes.

Anyhow, how did your week go?  Drop a comment and let’s chat!

Summer 2018 – Week 11 Busy, busy week at shows set up for the final arcs and penultimate episodes!  Hinata and Aoi reconcile, Harakuna gets amped up, and…