#Cause I had her most recent design alongside their older designs

[xx-sketchy-xx]

Poor poppy, a three tiered cake is simply not big enough!

#wally darling #welcome home art #wally #poppy partridge #sally starlight #creepy #disturbing #horror #kay ima be honest #I forgot how much poppy’s design changed #And so I had to basically redo her xD #Cause I had her most recent design alongside their older designs #I was like oh phooey #I’m still struggling to figure out why he stares at certain things #This poor baby child lol #I’m actually like a super amateur artist #I need to work on my angles and proportions a lot #yus the life of a hooman

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 8 -- Aftershocks

Word Count: 13482

READ ON AO3

Margaret’s quarters had to be one of the most glamourous in the entire manor. Designed to be a duplex, it consisted of two different spacesーthree, if you count the bathroomーthe lower floor held the living room, and the higher one was where the Council member’s actual bedroom was. 

The living room resembled that of a wealthy family’s. A deep red velvet hue gave a touch of colour to the walls, which were decorated by several portraits revealing pieces of contemporary art. Now, Sam loved going to museums and culture in general, but she couldn’t identify what the artists had tried to portray to save her life. When asking about the meaning of one of the paintings, Margaret once told her it was an allegory to the passage of time. How could a smear of red, a blue smudge, and a black, straight line mean any of that she had no idea.

Questionable taste in decor aside, Margaret’s quarters also consisted of a parquet flooring that always seemed to have been recently varnished, so shiny and clean one could eat from it. Just from a small glimpse at her room, one could guess the older witch had a weakness for rococo furniture; a set of golden couches and chairs with cream upholstery was scattered around the place. A backless seat was in front of the piano at the far corner of the room, a loveseat could be seen located under a particularly large painting, Sam and Margaret were both seated, one in front of the other, on two chairs…

Ironically for someone as elegant and graceful as Margaret, all her plants were made of plastic. Grandma Ida had once told her in confidence the clan’s best spellcaster was also the worst gardener she’d ever seen. According to her grandma, when Margaret was still just a witch in training her teachers ended up forbidding her from getting near to their supplies of mandrake; she always killed them all and the plant was very difficult to find. 

At the far corner of the room, to the side of the piano, a white staircase with a golden banister led to the Council member’s room. What secrets her bedroom held, however, Sam didn’t know. Margaret was very particular about who she let in on her personal life, and bedrooms were extremely personal. 

Which was enough of a hint to understand she hadn’t been called just to chat and have some tea with her. “Your Majesty,” Margaret broke her out of her musings and from inspecting her personal chambers, “I understand you already know why I have summoned you here, correct?”

Even when she was about to scold her, the older witch always looked like the epitome of grace and dignity. They were currently seated on two of her rococo chairs, which Sam had to admit, were pretty but not necessarily comfortable; a coffee table with a porcelain tea set alongside different types of biscuits, scones (a favourite of Margaret since she spent some time abroad in London in her youth), and sandwiches were in full display in between the two. 

Knowing how seriously Margaret took table manners, Sam put her teacup on its respective plate before delicately placing both down on the coffee table. “I have an inkling as to why that might be.”

The African-American woman’s perfect posture never faltered. “In that case, I will get straight to the point: sending Miss Baker and Miss Zhou back home while you were left alone with the Ghost King was unbelievably unwise.”

Sam couldn’t help but wince when Margaret’s forest green eyes laid on her, an icy quality to them. “I understand your concern, Margaret, believe me, I do, but…”

“‘But?’” Margaret cut her off, raising an eyebrow as her cup of tea was halfway to her mouth. “Your Majesty, in case you forgot, you are our queen. Amity Park clan’s leader. Dozens of women depend on you for guidance. Your sole presence keeps us from going to war over the throne!”

Unable to hear the same things over and over, the young queen turned her head to the side, as if pained by her words. “I know, I know.” She raised a hand to silence her. “Margaret, you needn’t remind me the very reason why I even stepped up to become queen. Keeping the clan from succumbing to chaos and honouring my grandmother are my main motivations for everything I do.”

“You and me both know that, my Queen.” Margaret conceded, stirring her second cup of tea. “But that does not change the fact that what you did was foolish. However, I also know that you never do anything without reason, so I am willing to hear it.”

With a gesture of her hand, she motioned for Sam to explain herself. Sighing, the violet-eyed girl did just that. “I know my life is precious, but the circumstances were dire and even now I can’t shake the feeling that it’s a miracle I’m even alive.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty. But I fail to see how that is helping your case.” The green-eyed woman pointed out. Deep down she knew Sam probably had a good reason for doing what she did, but as second-in-command, it was her duty to ensure their queen never made a mistake like that ever again. 

“I’m getting there, I promise.” Sam hastily said. 

With a nod, Margaret gestured for her to continue. “I don’t feel comfortable putting my safety before others’ just because of my position.” She finished, and even Margaret’s stoic mask cracked a little at the revelation. “Stephanie and Susan were with me, Margaret. They were in as much danger as I was, I couldn’t risk their lives like that.”

“Miss Zhou and Miss Baker both volunteered to escort you to your visits to the Ghost Zone, your Majesty.” Her fellow Council member reminded her in between sips. “Had anything happened to them, they were just doing their job.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing their loyalty would force them to pay such a high price.” 

Margaret was about to take another sip of her tea when Sam’s solemn words made her eyes widen. Looking over at her, she noticed her tense posture, her stiff shoulders, her slim fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of her black and purple plaid skirt...And the resolution in her eyes. The older witch could’ve sworn she saw the same fire that was so characteristic of her grandmother in Sam’s violet gaze. 

Unaware of the reaction she’d caused to the woman in front of her, Sam went on. “I’m the queen, Margaret. It’s my duty to make sure our people are safe. How do you expect me to just leave them behind, not knowing if they’ll even make it alive!? Even if the black hole had been taken care of without my assistance and they would’ve been safe from it, how do we know the ghosts wouldn’t have taken advantage of the chaos to attack them?! 

“Even if I have a feeling King Phantom would’ve tried to protect them, it was still too risky. I would never have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to them because, somehow, my life’s more important than theirs!”

Setting her now cold teacup down, the African-American witch clasped her hands together on her lap. She regarded the young queen with a face that betrayed no emotion. “Your Majesty, you do realise every single one of your points can also be applied to your own situation, right? Just like Miss Baker and Miss Zhou could have been in danger at the hands of the ghosts, so could have you. Except an attempt against your life would be grounds for going to war.”

Knowing she was right, Sam averted her gaze to the side. Suddenly that one painting with the impossible-to-understand analogy on the passage of time seemed much more interesting than ten minutes ago. 

Margaret sighed as she stood up. Her high heels clicking against the parquet, she hovered over Sam, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Samantha, I know choosing what is best for our people is hard, especially if it comes into conflict with our personal beliefs and desires, but duty must come first.”

The young sorceress started at the sound of her full name. She really hated being called ‘Samantha’, but knew that was the most personal Margaret would ever get with her, so it'd only be rude of her to complain. “I know,” she sighed dejectedly. “I know, it’s just...I can’t just do that to them! Susan is still just a teenager; no matter how good of a potion-maker and warrior she is, she’s still too young. She has so much to live, I can’t afford to make her miss out on all that for my sake…”

“But what about Miss Baker? I believe you two are the same age; you both still have so much to live, as well.”

“You mean Stephanie still has so much to live for. I gave up on that a long time ago…” Sam couldn’t resist the urge to scoff. 

Even if all witches had to make compromises to balance their lives inside and outside of the coven, Sam’s entire life had revolved around giving up on one passion after the other. Growing up she couldn’t make friends because other girls weren’t allowed to go near the queen’s granddaughter. Her world was reduced to the manor and her house, to her family and her teachers, to her lessons and the very scarce moments where she could pretend she was a kid like any other. After her grandma died, under the threat of her coven falling into anarchy until they found a new leader, she sacrificed her one chance at a relatively normal life in exchange of being elected the future queen. For four years her extensive studying and isolation were self-imposed; the only times she allowed herself to take a break where her birthday ーso her dad wouldn’t get suspicious as to what was so important she couldn’t celebrate her own birthdayーand the anniversary of her grandma’s death; because there was no way she’d ever have the energy to work on the most painful day of the year. And now that she was queen, every waking moment was dedicated to looking after her people.

Stephanie was just a shy girl who loved books. Between the two of them, she was the only one who really had a chance at experiencing life outside of the manor’s walls. And Sam refused to be the reason why she lost that chance. 

Understanding dawning on her, Margaret’s face softened. “Your motives were noble, my Queen, and I am sure the Baker and Zhou families are extremely grateful for having their children returned to them. Just try to keep in mind that with great power comes great responsibility, and more often than not, that means making sacrifices for the greater good.”

As the spellcaster went back to her chair, Sam could only stare after her like she’d just nonchalantly revealed the meaning of life to her. “...did you just quote Spider-Man?”

Picking her teacup back up, she just chuckled in amusement. “I am a woman of culture, your Majesty. Now, pour yourself another cup of tea or help yourself to some snacks, before it gets cold.”

Reaching over for the kettle to pour some more tea on her cup at the same time as she started munching on a vegetarian sandwich, a comfortable silence settled between them. The only sounds disturbing the quiet atmosphere were the occasional sound of sipping and of plates clattering. In the midst of the silence, Sam’s mind couldn’t help but race back to the moment right after Phantom stopped the blackhole. 

She wasn’t lying when she told Margaret she believed he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Susan and Stephanie, for her own protection seemed to be one of his top priorities. That and their last interaction before she returned to Earth had been replaying inside her head over the last several hours. 

As she and Phantom stared at each other, unbeknownst to them, both thinking that they could indeed make things work as long as they worked together, Sam’s mind unexpectedly wandered to uncharted territory. Now that she was looking at him up close, a part of her had to agree with all the fangirls who’d squeal every time Phantom appeared on TV; he was quite handsome. 

It was undeniable that the Ghost King’s defined physique was anything but hard on the eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but something about himーmaybe the inches he had on her, or maybe the way he’d pressed her close to his chest earlier when he was trying to put her to safety, or maybe the intensity of his neon green eyesーmade her feel safe. 

Now that they weren’t separated by a large table and a few feets of distance, Sam could appreciate his chiseled jaw and how his Adam’s apple moved up and down when he gulped, sending a heatwave straight to her very core. His intoxicating eyes no longer looked at her with suspicion and disdain, but with gratefulness and with a candour whose origins she couldn’t quite identify, and at that very moment she was sure nothing would’ve been able to get her to tear her own violet gaze away from them. His shock-white hair alongside his characteristically ghostly glowーthat glow she used to interpret as a warning sign; a reminder of his true natureーall of a sudden made him look ethereal, otherworldly. Like a guardian from beyond sent to protect everyone from evil. Like...Like…

Like an angel.

And his lips...Oh, God. They were so inviting. The mere thought of kissing those lips was incredibly exhilarating. From where she stood, Sam could already imagine his lips on hers, coming together in a slow, passionate dance; their touch so rough and yet so gentle; both breathing her to life and leaving her breathless; and the way he was moving them at that very moment only helped in further cementing her beliefsーwait a minute. They were moving?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” Sam exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, shaking her hands before her and already feeling the scorching heat on her cheeks. She barely resisted the urge to facepalm herself. What was she thinking?! Drooling over Phantom? Fantasising with kissing him?! Did she lose her mind?! Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she originally believedーshe was still debating on itーbut he was still a ghost. And ghosts and witches didn’t mix, especially like that. Hell, not even when they were still allies did a ghost and a witch ever end up together!

Noticing the Ghost King staring at her quizzically, the witch cleared her throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

Phantom’s eyes shot open at that. “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Sam told him, missing the way his eyes softened at her words. She put a little distance between the two, ready to cast the spell that would send her home, when Phantom’s voice stopped her in her tracks. Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of herself, the young witch couldn’t help but give him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

The relieved expression he sent her way sent her heart aflutter. Feeling the blush coming back, she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” Again, she was getting ready to leave when Phantom’s voice stopped her.

“Wait, Lady Arcana!”

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

Against her better judgement, Sam’s expression softened. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

She could almost feel how every individual cell in her body separated before being rearranged again. The tingling sensation was similar to when she’d phased through Phantom’s lair, except it was warm rather than chilly. Spellcasting felt like being cocooned in a thousand blankets inside your home during a particularly cold winter night, while the sensation brought by ghost powers was akin to sticking your head into the freezer when it was 104 º outside. 

Both experiences were incredibly pleasant, albeit drastically different from one another.

When Sam opened her eyes, everything was mayhem. 

She’d arrived in the middle of the Grand Hall inside 917 Maplestreet, and every single witch present was looking straight at her. Judging from their positionsーsome had risen from their seats, their hands slamming the tables; others had their arms raised as if making suggestions or waiting for their turns to speak up; a few were arguing amongst themselves…ー, she’d just interrupted a council meeting. Most likely to discuss her current situation. 

Oh, great. 

“Your Majesty!” A voice cried out, and Sam almost fell back upon impact, for someone had slammed into her chest with great force, almost knocking the wind out of her. 

Looking down, she realised the iron grip she suddenly found herself in belonged to none other than Susan. The poor thing was sobbing and hiccuping uncontrollably against her chest. Automatically, Sam put her own arms around her in an attempt to sooth her. With how fierce and disciplined she usually was, it was easy to forget she was, technically, still a kid. She had much to learn before she became completely desensitised to the world’s horrors. 

“It’s fine, Susan.” The queen soothed, caressing her hair. “I’m fine.”

Right at that moment, the room erupted in a row of applause and cheering, alongside many questions directed her way. Before Sam could so much as tell them to speak one at a time, she felt something being discreetly slipped under her dress. Turning her head to the side in surprise, she found herself face to face with Stephanie. “Welcome home, your Majesty. I am so glad you have returned.”

When the strawberry blonde winked at her, Sam understood everything. Steph had taken advantage of the current chaos, and of her tied up skirt, to return Arcana’s Grimoire to her. Sam couldn’t help but smile; she was worth much more than people often gave her credit for. 

Paulina and Star almost tripped over themselves trying to reach her. Rushing to her side, both simultaneously looking panicked and relieved beyond belief, the moment they reached her side they started fussing about her personal care, promising to prepare a warm bubble bath immediately.

“Your Majesty!” Paulina exclaimed in between pants, “You have no idea how glad we are that you’re back!”

“Totally,” Star agreed beside her friend, nodding but equally winded. “One minute Pauli was trash-talking Ms. Gorilla, and the next news reached us that you hadn’t returned from the Ghost Zone!”

“I’m sorry,” a sultry voice from behind startled them, while Sam shook her head in pity, anticipating what was to come, “you were doing what?” Delilah asked the two ladies-in-waiting sharply, her unforgiving eyes narrowed on them.

The Witch Queen could only roll her eyes knowingly at the way Paulina and Star flinched upon noticing the shapeshifter heard them. ‘Ms. Gorilla’, as Star helpfully supplied when they were assigned to her upon becoming the clan leader, was a moniker Paulina had come up with at the height of her jealousy towards the stunning Council member. Sam, despite her love for animals and nature, hadn’t noticed until they pointed it out, but Delilah shared her name with the famous Purple Back Gorilla that was discovered to be female by a high school student working on extra credit back when she was fourteen. 

The thing is, as good-natured and laid-back as Delilah could be, she did not appreciate being compared to such a majestic creature. “I’m waiting, Miss Anderson. What did you say you were doing before you heard the news?”

From where she stood, still being held by Susan’s iron grip, Sam could see how Star was beginning to sweat. The blonde usually didn’t have trouble saying what she thought of others, even if it was mean-spirited or uncalled for, but even she knew it was foolish to anger another witch, especially when her position was much higher than hers. 

Squirming under the shapeshifter’s harsh glare, the handmaiden couldn’t do anything but stutter. “Uh...um...w-well...we...we were…and the...the gorilla...b-but then...” She trailed off, luckily for her, Paulina chose that very moment to jump in on the conversation. 

“We were just talking about the new gorilla-inspired fashion collection!” The Latina lied and, if you listened closely, you could hear the way her already pronounced accent thickened. Paulina was a good liar, but even she sometimes had trouble working under pressure. “It’s absolutely fabulous! Almost as much as your blouse,” she complimented as she reached out to touch the fabric, “Is it new?”

Unamused, Delilah decided against pushing the issue...for now. Gently swatting the Latina’s hand away from her clothes, she directed a much kinder expression towards Sam. “It’s good to have you back, my Queen. We were worried sick for your safety.”

The violet-eyed queen smiled in return. “It’s good to be back.”

Suddenly, an imposing voice made itself heard from the other side of the room. Heads snapping to the origin of the sound, everyone’s eyes landed on Margaret standing with her hands behind her back by the entrance. She looked as poised and collected as usual.

Somehow, Sam knew she was in for a world of trouble. 

“Your Majesty,” Margaret began, and her voice commanded such respect a pin drop could be heard in the middle of the previously loud room, “you have no idea how grateful we are for your safe return. If what Miss Zhou and Miss Baker told us is true,” both witches at her side sent their queen an apologetic look, “then you must be exhausted. Please, after you’re well-rested, come tomorrow to my personal chambers.” She ordered, because she didn’t even ask for an answer, before turning away. Just as she was about to leave the room, she called out over her shoulder, “We have much to discuss.”

Oh, yeah. She was indubitably, thoroughly screwed. 

Her instincts were proven correct the moment she was given the third degree by the woman in front of her. As she pondered Margaret’s previous words, however, a question materialised itself inside Sam’s mind. 

Furrowing her brow, she called out to her fellow Council member. “Margaret?”

“Yes, your Majesty?”

“You said we more often than not have to make sacrifices in the name of the greater good, even if it goes against our personal beliefs and desires…” she started carefully, looking down at her cup. “Have you ever had to sacrifice something you cared deeply about or wanted desperately for the sake of the coven?”

For a moment, the silence had returned, only it now hung heavily over them, when just a few minutes it’d been comfortable. After a few minutes had passed and she still received no answer, Sam was about to ask again when Margaret finally answered. “Yes, I have.”

Her head shooting at her uncharacteristically lifeless voice, Sam almost gasped. Before her, Margaret wore the saddest expression she’d ever seen of her face. Her deep, green eyes, usually so vibrant and full of colour, were now bleak and devastated, reminiscent of a forest after a wildfire. The otherwise calm and collected Council member now looked heartbroken and desolate, like a piece of her was missing. Margaret certainly wasn’t crying, but she seemed so miserable Sam could feel tears of her own stinging her eyes. 

“I...I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

“Uh...right! O-of course. Don’t worry.” The lavender-eyed witch hastily said, too shell shocked to be more eloquent. Margaret never used contractions when talking to her. 

Margaret acknowledged her with a respectful nod of her head. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Then she went back to drinking her tea. 

Deciding it’d be best to imitate her and pretend nothing had happened, Sam couldn't help but wonder what might’ve happened to Margaret to make her so miserable. But above all else, she could only hope she’d never have to sacrifice the same thing. Somehow, she had a feeling death would be less painful.

...........

The forest in the outskirts of Amity Park could be described as anything but a walk in the park. The tree trunks knotted and twisted, forming shapes made out of the stuff of nightmares. The wind rustling the leaves sounded like a ghostly wail, not unlike Danny’s, albeit much quieter. That only made it more sinister. And the sound of twigs, dead leaves, and fallen tree branches crunching beneath had him frantically looking around for the slightest sign of danger. Since it was mid-October, nearing Halloween, the weather was beginning to change as well. For instance, temperatures were starting to drop from the cool yet warm ones that reigned during late September, and the first fall rainstorm hit the town just the night before.

And since it’d just rained the night before, that meant Tucker was now stepping on mud. He was stepping on mud with his new boots on. He was stepping on mud and getting his new boots that cost him a fortune, mind you, dirty. Already irritated and spooked beyond belief, he called out to the person walking in front of him, “Care to remind me why the fuck I didn’t turn you down on your invitation to, and I quote, ‘a fun fieldtrip?’”

Stopping momentarily to look over her shoulder, Jazz scolded him, “Language.” With that out of the way, she turned her head back around and kept on walking through the forest. “And to answer your question, you agreed to come with me because you want to help Danny as much as I do.” 

Tucker rolled his eyes, taking advantage of her back, turned to him, and followed her close behind. “Yeah, that I know. What I mean to say is, how is hiking aimlessly around the woods going to do anything to help Danny?!”

They’d been trekking around that damned forest for three hours, with absolutely nothing to guide them but an old, probably outdated, map some ranger had given to Jazz back at the information booth. Three hours wandering around a forest that was creepier than Mr. Lancer’s ‘sculptured summer physique’ back in summer camp, and the most resting they’d done was when Jazz would suddenly halt to check the map or crouch down to get some samples. 

Just like she was doing at that very moment. “Look at this, Tucker. Ocimum basilicum!” She reached her hand out to show it to him before putting it inside a little glass jar. She brought the jar close to her face. “Did you know in Christianity this plant is said to have sprouted when Jesus’ blood fell to the ground?”

“No, I didn’t know that.” The technopath said, unimpressed. “What I do know is that Ocimum basilicum and basil are the exact same thing! Care to tell me why you’re so transfixed on a mere spice? As much as I love myself a good pizza, even I have to admit this is just ridiculous.”

Sliding her backpack across her shoulder, the redhead put away the basil. With that taken care of, she sent her friend a bored look, standing up from the floor and coming to stand beside him. “It’s important because it’sー.”

“‘It’s going to help Danny.’” Tucker finished for her, doing a poor impression of her voice. “You said that over a million times already! Can you at least tell me how it’s going to help Danny?”

Jazz looked away, sulking. “Because...because it just is, okay?! Trust me, Tucker, I know what I’m doing.”

But the African American young man wasn’t buying it. That answer was far too childish, especially coming from someone like Jazz, who’d been acting like someone twice her age for almost as long as he could remember. Something was definitely off. 

“But what could it be?” He asked himself as they resumed their march. She said she knew what she was doing, and that was all great and dandy, except he had no idea what they were doing! He was the technician of the team, his specialty were computers, viruses, and thwarting technology-dependent ghosts’ plans! He was not made to hike, looking for God knows what, in the middle of a forest! 

And Jazz?! He barely held back a scoff. No matter how much more physically adept than him she was, the eldest Fenton was no field agent, either. For years, her way of assisting Danny in ghost-hunting had been through research, bringing back-up,helping work out the tricky details in their plans, now she was obsessed with finding out more about the witches…

Wait a minute. 

Tucker stopped dead in his tracks, fists curled at his sides and a very angry glare directed at the back of the head of his best friend’s older sister appeared on his face. “You dragged me here to help you research witches and avoid Danny’s wrath.”

It wasn’t a question and she knew it. Wincing at the, accurate, accusation, the redhead turned around slowly. “I...I have no idea what you’re talking about…” She tried playing dumb. 

In an instant, Tucker got in her face, wagging a chastising finger at her. “Oh, don’t you dare play innocent, little missy! You might have been able to fool your parents all these years, but that’s only because they’re surprisingly gullible. You can’t fool me; we’re here to research witches aren’t we?”

Looking down on the floor, Jazz ultimately gave in, sighing. “Yes, we are.”

“And I’m guessing Danny knows nothing about this which is why; first, you went out of your way to organise this on my free day, which, for the record, also happens to be the day Danny’s schedule is packed; second, you wouldn’t tell me why we’re here; and third, you’re just picking random things up, because not even you know what you’re looking for.” 

She bit her lip, knowing she’d been caught. She always forgot how observant Tucker could be. “Maybe?”

“Jazz!” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?!” She snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have lied to you or Danny, but I just can’t sit idly by and watch as he enters the lion’s den, completely unprepared!” She stepped closer to Tucker, looking him dead in the eye. “You know Danny, Tucker. He shoulders everything and refuses to let us help. Please, you have to understand; I have to help my little brother.”

Looking down at her pleading eyes, the techno geek’s own teal orbs softened. He did understand. He really wished Danny would let them help more often. It was just painful watching him come back looking like death, knowing he’d been sticking his neck out for a town that didn’t always appreciate him, and not being able to do much because even then he was protecting them. 

It was maddening, really. 

Sighing, he grabbed Jazz by her shoulders, trying to show her just how much he understood her plight. “Listen, I know how you feel. You know I know how you feel. But we gotta make sure us going behind Danny’s back will really be for his own good. We can’t just wander aimlessly with no real plan in mind! Never mind how good our intentions are.” Seeing as she only stared at him, unblinkingly, he sighed and let her go. “Face it, Jazz. We’re about as lost as Danny when it comes to witches.”

He was sure what he said would be discouraging, hence why he didn’t understand the way her eyes lit up. “That’s where you’re wrong!” She exclaimed just as she started rummaging through her backpack. After a few seconds, she pulled a book out. “This is a book on plants, arthropods, and other ingredients traditionally used by witches in folklore. If we find a place where many of said ingredients grow or inhabit, we might know where to find them!”

“Right…” he drawled, he should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy to keep Jazz from her goal. “Because there’s no way a group of women from the 21st century have learned to grow or breed those things from the comfort of their homes.” He deadpanned in response. “Is that why we’re here? To look for a bunch of plants and insects?”

Her right hand still clutching the book close to her chest, the other hand fisted on her hip, Jazz sent him an irritated look. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking the witches’ lair could actually be around here.”

Tucker’s brows shot up at that. “What makes you think that?”

“Because it’s tradition!” She exclaimed, before pulling her phone out of her pocket and shoving it in his face. “Did you know Baba Yaga was said to inhabit the Russian forests?”

Glaring at her, he carefully got her phone out of his face. “Yeah...She was also said to be an old hag, with a blue nose, and a bone leg. Pretty sure the Witch Queen Danny meets up with is supposed to be quite the looker. So, try something else.”

Jazz pouted, before trying to come up with a theory that would please him. “Well, what if there are Russian witches in Amity Park? Maybe they stayed true to tradition, taking advantage of the locals’ ignorance to remain inconspicuous.”

“Nice theory,” he clapped sarcastically, “only one tiny, itsy, bitsy detail, though. I doubt the Cold War made it easy for Russian witches to move to the USA. Instead of putting them up to trial for being witches, they’d have been accused of being spies.”

She was beginning to get frustrated with Tucker’s lack of cooperation. Groaning, she snapped. “What do you suggest we do, then?!”

“How about get back to civilisation and forget all about this silly quest, huh?!” He snapped back, dramatically flailing his arms in the air in exasperation. Seriously, were all Fentons supposed to be stubborn to the point of idiocy? Didn’t they understand some things weren’t worth falling-outs and even their lives? He loved that family to death, but if he was going to die for them, he at least would like it to be because of something useful. 

Jazz just kept staring back at him, frowning in annoyance, before turning away from him in a huff. Tucker was about to call her out on her behaviour when she beat him to it. “I know I’m being difficult. I know I’m looking for things that aren’t there, but I just need to help Danny!” She whirled back around to look him in the eye, desperation clearly laced in her voice. “Please, Tucker. You have to understand.”

“Uh, no. Not that! Anything but that!” He cried, frantically covering his eyes with his hands. She was pleading, giving him the trademark Fenton, sad, puppy-dog look. The damned thing was so effective he was genuinely surprised it didn’t count as a persuasion technique. Peeking through his fingers, he chanced to look, only to close his eyes shut not long after. Nope, she was still doing that look. 

With a dismayed moan, he gave in after a while. “Fiiiiiine!” He groaned, only to subsequently send a glare at Jazz’s direction when he saw her fist-bumping from the corner of his eye. He quickly squared his posture, jabbing his finger against her chest. “But if Danny busts us, you’re explaining things to him!”

He so hated the way she was beaming at him, completely ignoring his threat. “No problem!” She then slapped his hand away, causing him to let out a sound of complaint. The grin had been replaced by an irritated frown. “If you ever touch my chest again, though, I’m going to blast you with the Fenton Ghost Peeler until your skin falls off and only your non-existent muscles remain.”

“Hey!” He began to protest against her comment, only to back-pedal when she sent him a withering glare in warning. “No touching your chest ever again. Got it.” He smiled sheepishly at her. When that seemed to please her, she turned her focus on her book, prompting Tucker to ask. “So, what now?”

“Now we look for evidence that proves the witches of Amity Park visit this place.” She replied, not looking up from her book. 

“No, I got that. I mean how are we going to do that?”

“Well, if witches really do need certain ingredients for their spells and potions, then I’d suggest we look for things that could possibly grow around here.” Jazz kept reading the paragraphs detailed in her book, turning pages at the speed of lightning. Stopping at a certain page, she tapped her chin with one finger as she pondered their options before showing the book to Tucker. “Do you think we could find some newts around here? They’re said to have been highly demanded as an ingredient for their eyes.”

Taking a look at the slimy creature pictured in the book, the techno geek recoiled in disgust. He couldn’t hold back a shudder before regaining his composure. “First of all,” he lifted his index finger in the air, “the closest lake in the area is Lake Eerie, a good three hours away from here. So I highly doubt we’ll be finding any newts any time soon.” He fiddled with his PDA before showing it to her, a map appearing on the screen. “And second, even if there were any lakes around here, there’s no way I’m gonna touch an amphibian. I’m a techno geek, not a biology geek. If you want help collecting those little guys, you’re going to have to ask Sam for help.”

That perked the redhead’s interest. “You mean the Manson heiress?” She asked, not missing a beat. Even if the topic of conversation had changed greatly, her focus was still on her book. If newts weren’t an option, something else had to be. She just had to find it. “Is it me, or is there something going on between her and Danny?”

Not one to resist some good gossip, especially when it was related to Danny’s love life, Tucker leaned in closer to Jazz, as if he were about to share a conspiratorial theory with her. “Oh, something is definitely going on. I haven’t seen Danny act so comfortably yet bashful around a girl since Valerie. As for Sam, let’s just say I don’t usually see her with other guys. Period. As a matter of fact…” Eyes snapping open, he trailed off. What Jazz had said about Sam finally catching up to him. 

The psychology understudy looked over at him in concern. Unlike her friend, she wasn’t one to gossip, but her little brother’s mental health and social life was something she cared deeply about. Moreso because the two aspects tended to go hand in hand. “Uh, Tucker? Is everything okay?”

“What did you just say?” He practically mumbled in a voice so low Jazz had to strain her ears to hear him. 

“Um,” she stammered, “I said, ‘is everything okay?’”

“No, no.” The African American man shook his head and hands, indicating that wasn’t what he meant. “Before that.”

“I literally said ‘uh, Tucker.’” She repeated, looking at him like he’d grown a second head or something. Did a branch fall on his head while they were hiking and she hadn’t noticed?

Oh, for the love of God...This was getting ridiculous! Did he have to spell it out for her? Scrubbing his face with one hand, growing frustrated, he tried one last time. “No, Jazz.” He gritted out as gently as possible. “I’m asking what you called Sam earlier.”

“You mean when I said ‘the Manson heiress?’” She raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Yes, that!” He exclaimed, before returning Jazz’s confused expression with one of his own. “What do you mean by that?”

“You really don’t know?” She asked in disbelief. Considering that, no, he really had no idea what she was even talking about, the technophile could only shake his head and wait for answers. “Oh! Wow...So turns out Danny isn’t the only person in Amity Park who doesn’t know!” She meant to mutter that part to herself, but her disbelief was so great she forgot to lower her voice, causing Tucker to hear her just fine. 

He didn’t know why, but the moment the Fenton girl’s aqua eyes landed on him, Tucker couldn’t help but feel he was being regarded with pity. The fact that she nervously rubbed her arm holding the book up and down while avoiding his gaze didn’t help matters any. “Um, you see...You know Sam’s name, right?”

That made him furrow his brow, not quite following. “Obviously,” he scoffed. “Her name’s Sam Manson. But how come her ID makes her an heiress?!”

“Because she’s not just a Manson,” Jazz corrected him gently, “she’s the only child of the Mansons.”

“Are you saying she’s related to that psycho serial killer?” He squeaked, rightfully freaked out. Deep down, however, he knew that couldn’t be right. Sure, Sam had a spooky taste in...everything, really. But she would never hurtーno, wait a minute. She could definitely inflict pain on others through elaborate and well-thought schemes. But she just couldn’t be related to a serial killer!

...or could she?

“What?!” The redhead gasped. “No, of course not! I’m saying she’s related to the Manson family,” when he was about to comment further, she stopped him with a raised hand, “as in, the descendants of Izzy Manson,” she stressed, annoyed; “the creator of the cellophane-wrapping machine used for chopsticks.”

Growing frustrated at Tucker’s blank face, she made an indecipherable sound at the back of her throat before snapping. “Darn it, Tucker! Rich, I’m saying she’s filthy, stinking rich!” She rolled her eyes when the techno geek’s jaw almost touched the floor. “Gosh! I swear, you’re even more hopeless than Danny!”

“Wait a minute, Sam is rich?!” He all but screeched. “How come she never told me?!”

Feeling sorry for him, she could only shrug in response, her previous aggravation gone. Honestly, she’d only met the girl once, and not even a prodigy like her would’ve been able to determine her thought process with just one session. “I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I’m a bit more surprised you never figured it out.”

That gave him pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” she crossed her arms. How could she put this gently? “I mean, you’ve known her for a while, haven’t you?” Slowly, he nodded. “And you’re way more into the wealthy and powerful than Danny, and, come on, Sam’s an ultra-recyclo-vegetarian Goth.” She sent him a pointed look. “Goth clothing and vegetarian food aren’t cheap, you know.”

Tucker could only grimace, knowing she had a point. “I know who the Mansons are, but I’ve never seen Sam in any of the pictures taken of her family’s sophisticated parties. And, really, would you seriously take a look at her parents and go, ‘Yep, no doubt. These preppy, cheerful folks are definitely related to cynical, brooding Sam Manson.’” He defended himself, and judging by Jazz’s expression, he knew she concurred. Then, he added, almost as an afterthought, “And honestly, I legit thought she basically ate grass and mud, so…”

Sympathising with him, Jazz put a soothing hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly at him. At first he returned the gesture, before furrowing his brow in concentration. Something wasn’t right... “Wait, how do you know any of this? How do you even know Sam?”

“Ah, Danny and I ran into her and her dad last Saturday at that new Vegetarian Mexican restaurant.”

The bespectacled young man couldn’t do much but blink in astonishment. Then, suddenly, he let himself fall to his knees, crouching down before crossing his arms over his chest, pouting. “How can I possibly be that out of the loop?!”

Jazz flashed him a meek smile in response as she lowered herself to his level; literally. The tug in his lips turned into a full blown smirk as a devious thought came to him. “Was there UST between the two?”

The older girl let out a loud cackle at his question. “Oh, you have no idea!”

With a ‘hm’, he settled for a content smile that Jazz knew was only half-hearted. “That’s enough for me...for now.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jazz, trying to joke, but the way she was looking at him made it clear she didn’t buy his attempts to lighten up the mood. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, huh?” She offered softly. “You speak so fondly of her, and she seemed to know you well enough when we talked about you the other day. I’m sure she’ll come clean to you if you let her know you feel hurt over not knowing who she is.”

Normally he hated when Jazz psychoanalysed the situation, more so if it involved him. But now he couldn’t help but feel grateful for having the eldest Fenton’s advice and support. “Yeah, I...I think I’ll do that.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

She smiled back, “You’re welcome.” The quiet atmosphere soon dissipated when she got back up on her feet as she dusted herself off. “Well, we’d better find something that’ll hint us on the witches’ hideout!”

Getting up from the ground as well, Tucker watched as Jazz pulled out the map from her backpack at the same time as she leafed through her book using just her thumb, that girl’s ability to multitask was both impressive and unnerving. She was clearly searching for a clue to get them started on their quest. Rolling his eyes fondly at her, he started fidgeting with his PDA, looking for clues of his own through the best way he knew; technology. 

Printed books and maps were fine and all, but it didn’t take long for them to become outdated. With the Internet and his trusty PDA, Tucker always had the latest information in the palm of his hand. Literally. As his eyes scanned over dozens of articles from the day before to several decades prior, his eyes landed on one story in particular. 

Gasping, he called out to Jazz. The girl looked up from her own research to see Tucker motioning for her to come closer with his hand. Curious, she did just that. The moment she was within touching distance, he handed the PDA to her. “Look!”

She squinted her eyes on the screen. What appeared  was an old newspaper article, around thirty years old. When she read it over, however, her eyes widened. “Is this what I think it is?” She whispered in disbelief, as she turned to Tucker, who was smirking. 

“You’d better believe it!” Snatching the device from her hands, he began scrolling down and zooming in on certain fragments of the article. “It’s a news segment dedicated to two rangers’ retelling!” He exclaimed, his eyes not once looking away from the screen. “According to them, a few days before the interview with the newspaper, they were patrolling around the woods when they came upon what appeared to be a garden entirely made up of mandrake! Which took them aback because, first, that was a restricted area to the public; and second, mandrake usually grows in Mediterranean weather!

“Since it was getting late, they decided to investigate the following day first thing in the morning. But when they tried getting to the garden, they found they couldn’t. Somehow, whenever they thought they were getting closer, they kept getting lost and further away, something that was odd because they’d both been working as rangers, walking through the woods, for more than twenty years!” He finished, looking far more excited at the prospect of their research than he’d been before. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Her hands clasped in front of her beaming face, Jazz could only nod eagerly. “Mandrake is one of the plants that are most popularly associated with witches and magic, and the rangers kept getting lost because they’d found a patch of mandrake and the witches wanted to keep them away in order to protect their secret!”

“And you said Internet searches were only going to lead us to Satanist sites.” He flashed her a shit-eating grin, feeling proud of himself. 

“Ugh, knock it off!” She playfully shoved him away, before growing serious again. Her joy being replaced by uncertainty. “Just a question, though?”

“What?”

“How are we going to find this mandrake patch? It’s been over thirty years! And if the witches were able to make two seasoned rangers wander aimlessly through the forest, what chances do we have of finding it ourselves?”

Tucker opened his mouth, only to close it again, realising he didn’t have an answer to her question. Yep, that could definitely be a problem. “Well, the rangers didn’t know they were facing off against a group of spellcasting women; we do.” He tried steering the conversation in the right direction. “What do we know about witches?” She was about to speak when he cut her off, “ Aside from the obvious.”

Bringing a fist to her chin, Jazz began to revise everything she’d learned on them ever since Danny shared his latest plan with them. “Hm, Danny said witches used to be able to summon ghosts from the Ghost Zone and make them cross over to Earth. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Hm, it might.” Tucker replied, the gears already turning in his head. “You know how every ghost has its own ecto-signature?”

“Yeah?”

“What if the witches have something like that?” He suggested, his mind already focused on the possibilities. 

Jazz gasped, her eyes widening at the possibility. “Then maybe we could create our own version of the ghost radar, except that instead of ghosts, it’d latched onto a witch’s own signature!” She added, practically bouncing up and down.

“That way, we could lead the radar to someplace with a particularly strong magical signature, and therefore guide us to the mandrake patch without getting lost!” Tucker continued, equally excited. 

“Which would then allow us to track any witch that comes to the garden.” Jazz said.

“And eventually lead us to their hideout!” Tucker finished. The two of them high-fived the other, reeling from the revelation. They were so hyped they almost forgot to address the most important part of the plan.

“So,” Tucker started, slipping his PDA back in his pocket. “What about Danny? Do we tell him about this?”

Against her better judgement, Jazz shook her head. “No. I believe it’d be best if we don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Tucker raised an eyebrow. “Arguably, this affects him much more than it does us.”

“I know, but we need to give him an edge over the witches. An ace up his sleeve! Something to use as leverage if the queen ultimately turns against him.” She explained. “Telling him of our plan before we even have a clue would only make things more difficult for him.” Noticing Tucker’s unsure expression, she rushed to reassure him. “I promise, the moment we know where they gather, we’ll tell him. Okay?”

Tucker didn’t look convinced. Excluding Danny in something this important just felt wrong! But, on second thought, Jazz was his older sister; she’d been taking care of and protecting him long before she learned about the accident. Jazz was always looking out for her baby brother’s best interests. Sighing, he gave in. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Tucker.” She grinned in appreciation before she looked down at her phone and noticed the time. “Now, come on! We still have to get back before Danny finishes his classes and notices we’re nowhere to be found. We don’t want him to get suspicious, do we?”

As he followed her back through the way they’d come from, Tucker could only hope their decision wouldn't bite them in the ass. 

..........

“Remind me again why we’re here?”

“Because we needed to meet up and the You Mocha Me Crazy was closed today.” Tucker smirked smugly at her from the seat across from her; a mixture of grease and sauce dripping from his fingertips. “My, what a tragedy!” He lamented in mock sadness. 

Her body leaned forward and her elbow propped up on the wobbly table, Sam sent him a nasty look. “Knock it off! You like the café and you know it.” 

The techno geek shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll admit, they make good sandwiches. But nothing can beat my love for the Nasty Burger. It was about time I dragged you here for a change.”

Danny was sure the Goth girl was about to deliver  a very colourful string of words their friend’s way hadn’t he intervened. “Remember, Sam,” he warned,  putting a hand on her shoulder, making her look at him instead, “this is a kid-friendly space.” He took her huffing and crossing her arms over her chest as she slumped on her seat as a victory. “Look on the bright side,” he pointed at the trail of food in front of her, “at least they serve vegetarian menus.”

“It was a pleasant surprise.” She admitted, looking down at the tofu-soy melt she’d been served. “I honestly thought their only options would be a bunch of so-called salads with more meat than lettuce.” Picking the sandwich up, her face wrinkled in disgust when she brought it to her face. Averting her eyes, she promptly set it back down, before sliding the trail away from her. “That being said, that thing’s soggier than a quarterback’s socks after a football game.”

“Then it should be just like you like it!” The techno geek quipped, causing Sam to fling some of his own fries at him in retaliation. Tucker could’ve tried shielding his face from the assault, but that would've meant dropping his burger, leaving him no choice but to become an easy target. “You’re gonna pay for those fries.” He deadpanned, his scowl only deepened when the Goth girl blew him a raspberry in response. 

“I believe it’d be more accurate to say football players’ socks are stiff after a game, giving the poor hygiene of the guys at our high school,” Danny pointed out matter-of-factly, trying to keep the peace between the two, before noticing the possible innuendo thanks to the help of Tucker and Sam’s meaningful looks. “But I get what you mean.” He finished lamely. 

Changing her position so she was looking directly at him, her face leaning on the hand resting on the table, Sam raised an amused eyebrow in his direction. “No offence, Danny, but teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their impeccable hygiene.” With a noncommittal shrug she leaned back against her seat. “There isn’t much of a difference between you guys and pigs; you’re both more voracious than a pack of hyenas and your body odor is arguably stronger than a pig-pen’s stench.” She pinched her nose with her fingers for emphasis, the smirk never leaving her face. 

Both guys seated with her shot her matching glares. “I resent that.” They said in unison, making her laugh. 

“FYI, Sam,” Tucker said between bites of his Mega Meaty Nasty Burger, “Danny and I had to learn the wonders of personal hygiene much sooner than any other guy at our school.” Setting the remainder of his burger down on its trail, his arm resting close to it, he leaned closer to Sam, as if he were about to share a secret. “For all the cruel things the girls said about us behind our backsー”

“Or to our faces.” Danny reminded him with a pained mumble. 

“Or to our faces.” Tucker agreed. “Despite everything, they never, not even once, complained about the way we smelled.” He leaned back against his seat with a triumphant grin, the burger already in his hands. “That’s way more than the jocks ever got.”

“Now that you mention it, Tuck,” the blue-eyed boy started, “I think the closest we ever got to a compliment from the A-list girls was when Paulina, grossed out by Dash trying to flirt with her all sweaty after P.E., screeched, ‘Get away from me! Not even those losers of Foley and Fenton smell nearly as bad as you!’” He mimicked in a very whiny, high-pitched voice. 

While Danny’s imitation got him and Tucker in stitches, it got Sam thinking. Did he say Paulina? She didn’t want to just assume the Paulina she knew was the only one in town, but she couldn’t help but think of her. “Uh, guys?” She waited until they gave her their full attention. “Um, sorry if this is weird, but I just realised I never got around to asking you; which high school did you go to?”

“Casper High.” They replied at the same time. “Why?”

Okay...so they were talking about the Paulina she knew. The Latina wasn’t kidding when she said she used to be the queen bee at Casper High when she and Star studied there, if Danny and Tucker’s retelling, as the lowest end of the food chain, was anything to go by. “Um...no reason, really. I was just curious, that’s all.” Not feeling up to compromising her, for once, plausible answer, she quickly tried changing the subject. “If what you’re telling me is true, though, how come you were such prodigies in the art of not smelling like garbage that’s spent way too much time under the sun?”

“Ghosts.” Tucker replied simply. Panicking, Danny discreetly kicked him in the shins, the only reason his best friend didn’t yelp in pain was the warning glare the raven-haired boy was sending him. He was about to ask him what he wanted when Sam supplied the answer. 

“Ghosts?” She echoed, tilting her head to the side.

Flinching at the realisation of what he’d just said, he immediately tried to cover his slip-up. “Y-yeah! Ghosts!” He vaguely registered Danny rubbing his temple with two fingers from the corner of his eye. “You...you remember Danny’s a Fenton, right?”

“Yeah?” She raised a quizzical eyebrow, while Danny’s head shot up at that, wondering what his best friend was up to. 

“You see,” Tucker said with the same tone of voice a teacher would use when enlightening his students on his subject, “since Danny’s folks are ghost hunters, ever since the spooks started haunting Amity Park, Mr. and Mrs. F. have been a little...say, trigger-happy. So every time they thought a ghost was near, we’d accidentally end up covered in whatever goop they were developing. Hence, why we were always taking showers.”

Catching onto what he’s best friend was up to, Danny was quick to add. “In fact, my sister used to have long, flowing hair, but ended up cutting it to a pixie cut after one too many accidents.”

“That’s...weird as fuck.” Sam said, and for a moment the two men feared she’d seen through them. Until she bobbed one shoulder up and down as she readied herself for round two against her tofu-soy melt. “But I guess it makes sense.”

“It does?” Danny asked, before Tucker’s foot painfully stomping on top of his brought him back to his senses. “I-I mean! Of course it makes sense...well, it shouldn’t, but that’s my family for you!” He made a helpless gesture as he shot her a sheepish grin her way. 

Their antics made her frown in suspicion, “Are you guys okay? You’re acting weird, and that’s saying something.” 

“We’re perfectly fine!” Tucker rushed in to say, at the same time as Danny tried with, “Just tired!” They shared furtive glances at each other when the dissonance registered in their brains. Then they tried again, only for Tucker to squeak, “Just tired!” at the same time as Danny assured, “We’re perfectly fine!”

A little creeped out by what was taking place right in front of her, the girl munched on her sandwich painfully slowly. “Uh huh…” She drawled, not buying it. She swallowed her food before addressing them again, her hazel-eyes strained on the two nervous-looking boys. “So, which one is it? Are you perfectly fine, or are you tired?”

Gulping loudly, Danny chose to speak for the two of them, seeing as their usual ‘bronnection’ was failing them. “Come on, Sam. We obviously mean we’re a little tired, with all our assignments and whatnot, but overall, we’re perfectly fine!” The halfa tried alleviating the tension with a motion of his hand. “That’s just your usual college student life. What’re you gonna do? Right, Tuck?” He elbowed his bespectacled friend, urging for support. 

The African American young man started, “Oh! Um...sure” He stammered at first. “Totally. Nothing going on but your typical college life problems.” He let out an awkward laugh. 

Sam just kept staring at them just as intently as before, her intertwined hands resting on the table. With her eyes narrowed on them like a gangster deciding whether to kill or torture a snitch that’d ratted them out to the cops. The pair of best friends could barely contain the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she shook her head and, for a moment, they were sure she’d made her choice; they were dead. “We definitely can’t come back here. The food’s so bad it’s rotting your brains!” She shook her head in mock concern. “And it’s not like you had many to begin with…”

“Wait a minute!” Tucker protested while Danny let out a relieved sigh, “You leave the Nasty Burger out of this!”

“I just say it as I see it.” Sam countered in a sing-song voice. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, she just couldn’t resist. 

As his two friends started bickering, Danny limited himself to watching them, amused and content to have them in his life. A part of him still couldn’t believe how easily Sam had filled the space he didn’t even know was empty. His whole life he thought Tucker’s companionship was all he neededーexcept for his early high school days when he dreamed of being part of the A-listers, but he’d since wisened up. With ghost-hunting overcomplicating his life, he’d long given up on expanding his social circle outside of his sister and best friend, and serious girlfriends were an all-time no-no, but in just a few meetings, the Goth changed that. 

Her individualism and strong moral compass were the perfect addition to his dry sense of humour and awkwardness, and Tucker’s optimism and desire to do something big. It was like they balanced each other out. Sam’s own sense of justice aligned itself nicely with Danny’s own need to do the right thing and protect others, while she shared the need to stand outーalbeit in different waysーwith Tucker, as opposed to his efforts of blending in. Even their differences were a great addition to their friendship, for they forced them to open their eyes to new possibilities they might have overlooked. 

Danny wished Clockwork would just stop time right at that very moment. There, in the middle of the crowded and not always sanitary Nasty Burger, surrounded by teens complaining about the struggles of high school and underpaid workers, everything was perfect. Being there with Tucker and Sam, watching them bicker and mediating when things threatened to get out of hand, felt like things were as they should have always been. 

They weren’t even there to talk about witches! Somewhere along the way hanging out with Sam just became normal; the right thing to do. And to think not that long ago he didn’t even know she existed…

Watching her bring a hand to the shaved half her face, as if she were about to push away some hair blocking her view only to stop in mid-air and sheepishly put her hand back down on the table when she remembered there was nothing to push awayーmaybe she still wasn’t used to missing half of her raven locksーwarmed his heart. For a moment, she redirected her focus on him, probably sensing his eyes on her, and she flushed prettily, causing heat to creep up on Danny’s own cheeks as a result. 

They immediately averted their eyes and focused on something else; Sam looked back at Tuckerーwho was trying very hard to keep his impish grin off his faceーand Danny found himself looking at the ceiling. He’d never noticed there were pieces of gum up there...

For someone who’d sworn off romance after sophomore year of high school, he was doing a very poor job at steering clear of it. Just like the route his treacherous mind had taken the other day as he locked eyes with Lady Arcana…

The halfa could feel his heart squeezing in his chest just by looking into those heliotrope orbs of hers. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew not even his glowing gaze could compare to them in uniqueness. Regrettably, the usual frostiness he found in them hindered their beauty. But now that she was staring at him with great esteem and, dare he hope, a hint of admiration, it was as if spring had finally arrived and had defrosted her gaze; revealing the field of lilacs hidden underneath. 

The content smile tugging at her lips illuminated her entire visage, accentuating that tantalising beauty he chose to overlook due to the rocky nature of their relationship. In all his years coming back and forth between the Ghost Zone and Amity Park, he was sure he’d never met anyone who represented the beauty of both worlds quite like she did; and he was a halfa! 

Her amethyst eyes and her paranormal nature made her stand out even in a dimension populated by powerful entities, each possessor of a unique gift. The way the eery light coming from the ectoplasmic swirls around them reflected on her slick, black hair gave her an appropriately otherworldly glowーso beautiful it eclipsed anything he’d ever seen before. It was almost like she belonged in the Ghost Zone. 

But her personality wasn’t like any he’d ever encountered before, let alone in a spirit. He hadn’t realised it until now, or rather, he hadn't allowed himself to see it, but there was no denying the glimpses of something incredibly humane within her. As unusual a sight it might be, her love for her carnivorous plant wasn’t any different from that of a little girl playing with her puppy. The care she felt for it was evident in the curve of her smile whenever she glanced down at her little, potted friend. Her love and loyalty for her people were admirable as well. He’d been lying if he said he hadn’t been taken aback by her insistence of staying behind in order to protect her two subjects. As vain as it sounded, he’d only seen that kind of dedication and sacrifice in himselfーright when he took off to take on Pariah Dark. She’d even saved him, a ghost! Her alleged worst enemy! And all because she saw him in need and couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing. 

He could see it now. Lady Arcana represented the best of both worlds. It was like she belonged with him…

Eyes widening in shock, he quickly tried to shake off the strange feelings taking residence in his core. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Lady Arcana, but she was still a witch! It’d be incredibly foolish of him to ignore centuries of beef between their people just for a pretty face. Besides, even if ghosts and witches weren’t enemies, he still could never date her. It’d be too dangerous. 

He had to snap out of those delusions, pronto.  “Lady Arcana.” He called out to her. A few seconds passed and she said nothing, causing him to worry. Now that he looked closely at her, she seemed a little flushed; what if something was wrong with her?

“Lady Arcana, are you okay?” Phantom asked, even though, unbeknownst to him, he looked a little out of sorts himself. “Your face is a little red. Should we have someone check it out?”

“No!” She exclaimed a little too quickly and a little too loudly, which only made him worry more for her sake. She was frantically shaking her hands before her and her cheeks only took on a deeper shade of red.

Looking at him like she’d been caught doing something bad, the witch cleared her throat, although it looked a little forced. “I mean, no; I’m fine, really. Probably just a little affected from all the excitement.” Averting her gaze, she jerked her thumb behind her. “I, uh, I should probably go back to my people. They’re probably recruiting an army to come and save me as we speak.” She laughed it off weakly. 

The halfa’s eyes shot open at that. Duh! What was he thinking!? Of course not seeing their queen return from the Ghost Zone would cause an uproar among her clan! “Oh, right! Yeah, it’ll probably be for the best. Wouldn’t want to start a war over a misunderstanding…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he, too, looked away. “I...I’ll let you be.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for saving me.” Lady Arcana  said softly, and Danny could feel his heart swelling at her words. Unbidden, his expression fell a little when she put a little distance between the two. She was about to cast the spell that would send her home when his voice acted before his brain had time to catch up to it. “Wait!”

Turning around, she raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

“Are there going to be any more meetings after this?” He asked. “I mean, after this whole fiasco, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to call it quits…”

In spite of himself, he couldn’t keep the seed of hope from being planted when she gave him a small smile. “We still need to solve the portal problem, don’t we?” Then, she smirked. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Phantom!”

Danny was pretty sure he’d just smiled appreciatively at her, which was why he didn’t understand when she hastily turned around once more, ready to leave. “Well, until next time!” 

“Wait, Lady Arcana!” He called out to her once more, hating how desperate he sounded. 

“Yes?”

“I...u-uh,...well…” He stuttered before taking a deep breath. “Thank you for saving me, too.”

The way her expression softened was enough to bring forth emotions he long believed dead and buried. “You’re welcome, Phantom.” Finally, she focused on her anima, willing a purple light to engulf her as she chanted, “Omnes viae Romam ducunt.”

And with that, she was gone. 

The snow-white haired ghost kept staring off into the distance even after she was long gone, his mind still trying to process the day’s events. But there was something that, hard as he might, he just couldn’t make sense of. She’d been able to grab him while he was intangible, but how? At first he thought it was a specific spell or something, but that theory was soon proven mistaken when not even Lady Arcana seemed to know how she’d been able to touch him. 

Only one thing was for sure; he needed answers. And he had a pretty good idea where he’d be able to get them. 

Danny’s musings were abruptly interrupted by the sight of his best friend pointing a fry accusingly at Sam, “When were you going to tell me you’re rich?”

A heavy silence suddenly filled their booth. It was like someone had forced a horrible screech out of a vinyl disc by scratching on its surface. Looking over at Sam, the halfa was sure she was about to drop her food, too stunned to even move. The way her eyes had popped open would’ve been comical, hadn’t it been for the tense atmosphere. 

Shaking her head lightly, the Goth girl finally regained her senses, her shocked face morphing itself into a scowl. “Say it a little louder, Tucker.” She grumbled. “I don’t think they’ve heard you all the way to Siberia.”

Now it was Tucker’s turn to scowl. “Uh, no. You don’t get to be mad at me for saying it aloud.” He slumped back on his seat, turning his head away from her. “Not when you never even told me yourself; I had to find out through Jazz.”

“Jazz?” Danny repeated, confused. “When did you talk about this with Jazz?”

“Uh...we were texting each other and it came up.” He shrugged his concerns off. “But that’s not important right now. What matters,” he said hotly as he shot the brunette a pointed look, “is that we’ve been friends for over a year and you never told me! How come Danny and Jazz get to know you’re part of the Mansons but I don’t?!”

The youngest Fenton was about to try and explain things to the techno geek when Sam beat him to it, “Tucker, it’s not like I planned this! I was just having dinner with my dad when Danny and his sister appeared at the restaurant.” She explained, exasperated. “And honestly? The only reason Danny knows is because Jazz already did. It’s not like I saw them come in and waved at them like, ‘Hey, guys! I’m here with my Hella wealthy father! You wanna come with to our yacht in the Mediterranean?’” She droned in an overly cheery, sugary-sweet voice, her lashes fluttering excessively.

“You have a yacht in the Mediterranean?” Both boys asked, incredulous. 

Her scowl deepened. “That’s irrelevant.”

“Yeah, well..,” His shoulders slouched, Tucker could only sulk, hurt. “Could’ve still told me. I thought we were friends, Sam.”

His words were like a knife piercing through her heart. They were friends, weren’t they? Despite their differences and some of his most obnoxious flaws, Tucker was still the first person to ever approach her without ulterior motives in mind. Even after they’d made it clear they could never work as a couple, he stayed with her. Annoying he may be, he was still the first friend she’d ever made on her own, and she loved him for it. He was right; he didn’t deserve to be hurt due to her secretive nature. 

With a sigh, she scrubbed her face with one hand, feeling remorseful. “Tuck, I’m...I’m really sorry.” She confessed, earning the techno geek’s full attention. “You’re right, even if the secret was mine to tell, I should’ve let you know sooner.” She sighed once more, unable to meet his eyes. Sam hated allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of others; growing up, she’d learned to depend on no one but herself, therefore, showing her helpless, weaker, side to others was incredibly hard to do. “Listen, you’re the first friend I’ve made in a very long time. I was afraid of losing you.”

Although his posture was still guarded, Tucker couldn’t deny her words piqued his interest. “What do you mean, Sam? How is me knowing who you are going to lead to you losing me?”

“I sort of agree with Tucker.” Danny commented. “If anything, it’d bring you two closer.”

“Right?”

Chuckling mirthlessly, the Goth shook her head. Both boys flinched when they saw the pain reflected in her hazel eyes. “Look, being me isn’t easy, okay? I’m not saying life in general ain’t shitty, because that’d be lying, but my life is especially complicated. 

“I grew up trying to live up to insanely high expectations, a childhood no kid should ever be forced to go through. I was constantly reminded of the near impossibility that was me making real friends, and I guess, once I reached puberty, it just made me cynical.” Sam admitted quietly, not looking up from her trail of food. “By the time I could try making friends of my own, I was already convinced the moment they learned of my family’s wealth, they’d start seeing me as their personal credit card, instead of my own person who deserves to be loved and accepted just for being who I am.”

Although she desperately tried to hide it, Danny and Tucker immediately exchanged concerned glances the instant she sniffled. Their hearts broke in two for the girl sitting with them. Sure, they’d been Casper High’s laughing stock from the beginning to end of their high school experience, but they always had each other. Sam...Sam spent the majority of her life alone. It was impossible not to feel for her. 

“In...in the end,” God, how she hated the way her voice shook! “I decided hiding that part of me was easier. I wanted friends who liked me for me, and having a Black MasterCard was surely going to make things difficult.”

“You have a Black MasterCard?” Tucker accidentally let out. When Danny’s neon green glare started burning a hole in his skull, he backtracked. “I’m sorry, Sam. I mean...I guess I mean I’m sorry.”

“You are? But I’m the one who’s kept you in the dark this long!”

 “Yeah, and it hurts.” He admitted. “But it’s obvious you had your reasons and after hearing them, man, I can’t blame you. I would also hide all that cash if I were you. Even though the temptation of flaunting my own private jet in front of all the asholes who used to shove me into lockers would be too great.”

Despite herself, his joke made her laugh. “Thanks Tuck. Friends?” She rubbed her eyes to wipe the imaginary tears away. She was relieved to know she didn’t cry; crying was something Sam Manson just didn’t do. It would’ve been mortifying.

He leaned over to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re still friends. But you’re paying for our next meal.” That earned him a playful punch on the arm from the Goth, but the smile on her face betrayed her true emotions. 

Shaking her head good-naturedly, she scoffed. “Deal.”

After that, the three kept talking amongst themselves. About everything and nothing. Nearing the end of their meal, Danny and Tucker were too engrossed reminiscing about their high school days per her request. Admittedly, just hearing the traumatising experiences they’d been through made her feel suddenly grateful for never attending the dreaded place herself. Still, after the tenth story retelling how some jackass had forced Danny to eat his jockstrap after losing a betーew!ー her mind wandered elsewhere. 

Her last encounter with Phantom sent her reeling. The way they both complemented each other when they worked as a team was astounding. It reminded her of Grandma Ida’s tales of how things used to be before the ghosts forced them into hiding, when the two species were practically symbiotic of each other. 

For the first time since she received his letter, she found herself trusting him. Most importantly, a part of herself came to wish she could indeed trust him. Perhaps all the centuries apart and resentment had clouded their people’s minds. Maybe they were really better off together than separated. She had to admit her knowledge on ghosts was very limited aside from what she’d been taught her entire life, and if there was something Sam was, that was inquisitive. She never took anything by face value, so why did she do just that with ghosts?

She needed to learn more about them. She needed to act like an individual, rather than a bee awaiting orders from the queen, and do a little research of her own. 

She needed answers and, crazy as it might be, she knew where to find them. 

“Hey, Danny?” Her voice stopped short Tucker’s retelling of his hellish experience dating the second most popular girl in school. When Danny’s baby blue eyes met hers, she almost lost her nerve. Almost. “Um, would you mind taking me to FentonWorks?”

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fic #my fic #your heart #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #jazz fenton #Paulina Sanchez #star dp #Amethyst Ocean #ghost king! danny #ghost king au #witch queen au #witch queen! sam #enemies to friends to lovers

[threeeyesslitthroat]

So I watched Chaos Walking(2021)

Yeah, lucky for me, my local theater was open and showing(side note, I love my local theater so much. Like, not to brag but seven dollars for a movie and a snack is so great)

Anyhow, I watched Chaos walking. This is sort of my review. 

First off, I read The Knife of Never Letting Go and one third of The Ask and Answer, almost two years ago. When they finally dropped the release date and the trailer, i made the choice not to go reread the first book because i wanted to give the movie a chance and make an exercise of managing my expectations(in preparation for Disney’s Percy Jackson adaptation). Which means not only do I not have a complete understanding of the source material, but I also have a shit memory, so I don’t have a great shot at analyzing this films in adaptation terms, but i’m gonna try anyhow.

So first off, The Noise.

I found it a bit sketchy that they decided to make the make Noise have visual elements alongside audio but I decided it was fine, since it be pretty hard to bring this to life with only just audio and not make general audiences confused.

But they did try and do a solid job. Minus not letting us hear the Noise of animals, which sucks. we do see the Noise of a Spackle, but briefly.

The part that really pisses me off is the final confrontation, when the Noise is treated like a Super Power. we see this when Todd scares Davy’s horse by conjuring up an image of big snake, when Mayor Prentiss tricks Viola into a false trap, when  Ben tricks everyone by pretending to give Viola up when in fact he’s buying Todd and the real Viola time to get away, and in the final, Todd distracts Prentiss by conjuring up the image of his mother(complete with bloody wounds) and the various women that died when he was a baby, which caused Prentiss to fall to his death.

I don’t know how the Noise is depicted in the later books, if it was anywhere remotely like this, but i know for sure it doesn’t happen in the first book, which the film is based on.

(Also, how the fuck does Todd know what his mum looks like, or any of the other women and how is he able to bring up their images so perfectly how is ANYONE ABLE REMEMBER SOMEONE WITH THAT MUCH DETAIL That goes beyond photographic memory)

Second bit, the Spackle.

 The design is boring. Its clearly an alien, buts its dark grey, tall, holds its own when Todd attacks it in the film, has zero impact on the film as a whole and pretty boring. I do recall reading the book and imagining them to have faces similar to real world lemurs or Sloths, with big expressive eyes and such, but the CGI monster doesn’t emote for shit in this film. Todd comes at with a knife with every intention of killing it and it shrugs him off and walks away like it wasn’t fucking attacked my gods.

But in short, they only brought up the Spackle because they’re a thing in the world and it teased the bigger concepts of the next books with like, one measly exchange between Todd and Viola. (it went something like this)

Viola:We’re the aliens, though. They’re the natives.

Todd: huh.

Third bit, New World itself. Not a big deal, It looked like how i originally imagined it, no mention of swamp apples, though we see Todd Hewitt use a knife to stab a big ass bug thing for food. i hear some critics consider it lame that the planet isn’t actually alien but eh, whatever, Didn’t really feel an alien vibe reading the book so it doesn’t matter. 

Now there’s one bit i have to acknowledge in passing. At one point Todd decides to go get lunch by going into the water with his knife and wrestles with some big ass thing with tentacles. Which is fine, just have a couple of questions.

A: is this in reference to the books? Where there big ass tentacle creatures in the novel that are hunted for lunch?

B:if not, was this the film makers deciding to remind the viewers that yes, they are not on planet earth and to make Todd look cooler and justify why he’s useful for the quest and show how much Viola doesn’t know?

I kinda have to acknowledge the thing.  In that scene, Todd and Viola take a break, and Todd removes his clothes (all of them) and decides to go hunting in the water naked as the day he was born. You may have noticed that the Tom Holland stans are all over this scene because One) the camera focuses on Tom Hollands muscles when he takes his top off and Two) one can see his bare ass in the distance. 

Not a big fan off this, just find it interesting because its the most recent example of a Male being objectified by the camera when this never happens once to any of the female characters in the film, including Viola. Also, a touch of weird character detailing because haha, get it? Boy’s never seen a girl before in his life and doesn’t know what modesty means.

Also, very weird because Todd Hewitt in the book was so fucking self conscious that he would never have done that. 

Now I gotta talk about the characters.

( i understand why they aged them up, i truly do, better to get established actors instead of child actors that could more easily break to movie than sell it. its easier to make movies with legal adults instead of working with child labor laws. but damn it you lose so much of the fucking nuance of the novel when you age them up. There’s so much shit that makes an impact because of how young they are. Around the ages of eleven and twelve is when ones understanding of good and evil has its foundation, to me it was like the story was grappling with Todd Hewitt’s very soul and you lose so much of that when you change it to them being older because instead of being just kids in fucked up situations its younger adults in messed up situations. Like ugh. and aging them up leads to even more problems but we’ll fucking get to that)

Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt is not the Todd Hewitt of the novel. He just ain’t. There is nothing there that reminds of the boy. The acting is solid, don’t get me wrong, but it just ain’t the Todd Hewitt i remember. Neither is Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade.

(excuse me while i get Percy Jackson flashbacks)

Now, I have to acknowledge the fact that neither actor(actually none of the actors in this film) slouch on the job. They bring solid and at times very good acting.(If Tom Holland is in the film, its not going to be complete waste of time. He brings quality.)

Honestly, respect to Mr Holland because he was basically the main character, not only acting but also doing voice  and various stunts(also huge credit to the stunt coordinators and stuntmen) and I heard that filming wasn’t that great and bloody broke his nose how many times like damn boy, hats off to you.

But here’s the thing. I don’t want to say that Holland was playing himself or just a version of peter Parker, because i really don’t think he wasn’t but it just. Didn’t feel like a legit character? Especially when compared to the novel. Like Todd Hewitt in the novel is such a raw force of emotion and such a smartass and i was so looking forward for Holland to own this role but in the movie he just? Awkward dude going through some stuff?

but yeah, Holland works his ass off and there are some scenes and moments in the movie that work just because this fellow is just that charming, so (shrug emoji) like i said, He doesn’t waste your time at least.

Ridley....sigh. i know this woman can act. But next to the character who’s thoughts are heard constantly she’s very boring. And it hurts so much because Viola has an actual personality in the novel like; I’m ninety percent sure that Viola hits Todd with a big stick and I do remember that there were multiple moments where she lets Todd know when he’s being a dumbass.(seriously, i may have a shit memory of the book, but i do remember that they play off each other well and hugely entertaining seeing two twelve-year-olds handle the shit getting thrown at them)

Like, Viola in the film doesn’t really have much going on. We see the crash, we hear about the graves she dug herself, we see her be sad, we see her look at Todd like weirdo, we see her look horrified or shocked. (its so sad that I only remember the facial expressions more clearly than the actual dialogue) We really have no idea what the hell is going on with Viola Eade. I don’t think we can blame Ridley, only the film makers, because how can you see Viola Eade in the novel and then turn her into that????

i do have to talk about the relationship between Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt and Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade, even though its painful. In the novel, them is just two kids on a really tough adventure.  Because they aged them up, its not two kids old enough to run for the playground when recess starts. Its Teenagers. 

First question, HOW OLD ARE THEY??? Is Todd sixteen? Eighteen? Seventeen? He sure as hell ain’t Thirteen in this. What about Viola? I mean, big shout out to the hair and makeup team for making 28-year-old Daisy Ridley look so much younger but how. OLD. IS.SHE? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? Pretty sure she’s older than him in this? I ask because it MATTERS.

The way they play off each other has a vastly different energy to the novel because they are aged up. Its pretty obvious pretty fast that Todd’s feelings are basically a big crush, though not all of it is superficial as the film progresses. And Viola is clearly not receptive to that in the film. (honestly i cringed so hard at the “daydream kiss’ and whatever the hell that was in the Farbranch mayor’s house)

The relationship in the film just doesn’t have the nuance or the energy that the novel had in depicting their relationship which is depressing for all the Todd x Viola fans i’m sure. There’s some adorable bits though, like Viola seeing Todd’s dream of her playing with Manchee, and not so adorable canon bits like when Viola read the diary to Todd.

I’m just grateful that the film at least ended with them being friends instead of trying to force the romantic relationship. That right there is why I like the movie. It’s a crush, its used for a couple laughs, they’re friends, its fine. Even if you didn’t read the novel that’s really great for a movie in this day and age to not end with forcing two opposite sex characters into a relationship. To be honest, I like the idea that the film leaves us thinking that yeah, maybe these two could be real friends one day.

I just want to touch on Manchee real quick.

Manchee’s Noise is not seen or heard in the film. It is briefly acknowledged by Todd ins their first scene but other than that? Nada. Which is a low blow in comparison to the novel because Manchee was a character in his own right, which is why the death hit so hard. 

Todd?” he barks, confused and scared and watching me leave him behind. “Todd?” “Manchee!” I scream. Aaron brings his free hand towards my dog. “MANCHEE!” “Todd?” And Aaron wrenches his arms and there’s a CRACK and a scream and a cut-off yelp that tears my heart in two forever and forever. And the pain is too much it’s too much it’s too much and my hands are on my head and I’m rearing back and my mouth is open in a never-ending wordless wail of all the blackness that’s inside of me.”

in the film, it takes place in white rapids, So its chaotic, its awful, the veiwer’s all stressed out because Viola can’t swim, everyone's getting separated and Aaron’s there and he is seen drowning Manchee. 

Dude, its brief, but not pretty. Because you can see Manchee’s legs trashing above the water, struggling to get free. Aaron is drowning a dog, letting its lungs fill with water. For the folks that don’t like watching dogs die in graphic detail on screen, this isn’t great. 

Personally, I love this scene in the novel. Its the first time i had to put the book down and take a moment. It hit really close to home for me, because i watched my own dog die in real life. It was emotional and horrifying and had such a fucking impact because we could hear his thoughts. Todd had to make the choice to leave him behind to keep Viola safe. To be honest, i think the death is better in the novel, since Manchee basically dies instantly instead of drowning, which takes time(I’ve always assumed that his neck was snapped but I’ve heard others say it was the psine but whatever) it would have been easy and necessary for them to not show that on screen. I personally just think that in terms of depicting a violent death, the novel did a lot better.

Anyway, on to the other characters

(I had to choose the one with the big orange fluffy coat, and i couldn’t find a good pic og Ben and Cillian on google images.)

As for Mayor Prentiss, he’s played by Mads Mikkelsen, and he delivers. But for the most part, we don’t really know why he’s the bad guy, he just wants to get Viola because “she’s the key” which isn’t really explained, and at the end he tries his hardest to kill Todd. 

Because i only read the first book, I don’t know what exactly his character arc is. And since its been a really long while, I don’t remember what he’s like in the novel regardless, other than the cliffhanger ending.

I did take a quick crashcourse  through the wiki and it turns out that Todd and Prentiss have a relationship in the later books, which the film sort of touches on, because Todd looks up to Prentiss in the film from the get go. 

To be honest, I knew that the trilogy was a lot more complex, and even though I didn’t read the whole thing I knew it would be really disappointing for the fans to see the mayor be hollowed out to almost unrecognizable and not getting to see the whole picture on screen.

As for Davy Prentiss Jr., he was an asshole and stayed an asshole. I know he improves and gets killed off in the novels, so yeah, exhibit B of character foundations not being laid down because there isn’t gonna be a movie after this. Also, why is he played by Nick Jonas? Did they actually have more in mind for him when they decided to go with a Jonas brother or was it just star power? 

As for Aaron...don’t have much to say about him, other than just being pretty weird fit to the film. I think he’s after Viola because he’s just that full of delusions but other than that, his character is just flat and useless. (I wish to the gods that writers would actually think instead of going with “religious delusion” to explain insanity) He only brought tension in a few scenes for the most part. I’m pretty sure that in the novel Todd and Aaron have a confrontation, like the final fight of the novel, and I’m 90% sure that its where the Novel gets the Knife of never Letting Go as its title, because the knife is big deal at that point. But I guess they wanted Viola to have a quick boss battle for the ending and set him on fire. 

Ben and Cillian were fine. They did a good job, the actors were pretty great, I liked Cillian, and i like how they acknowledged that these dudes were family(i know that they’re gay and a couple but the film doesn’t say it outloud beyond letting them sleep in the same bed, be Todd’s parents, and having Ben hold Cillian in his arms) I get a kick out of the fact that the official reviews by Movie Critics are openly curious about why the film doesn’t make it more obvious that they’re gay, but whatever.

As for the overall plot, this is a fine example of mashing three books into one film and not having good results. Instead of going to Haven, the movie decided to shortcut the ending and go to the original ship that somehow has working tech but whatever, Viola needs to communicate to her ship. So not only do we not get the great relationship between Todd and Viola, not only do we not get the Spackle, Not only do we not get to see the noise of Manchee, not only do we have poor character adaptation, we also don’t get to have a plot that matches THE ONE BOOK THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO ADAPT. THEY HAD ONE FUCKING JOB AND THEY COULDN'T ADAPT THE ONE BOOK-

Its only so sad that they decided that this was going to be a one-shot deal because they didn’t have faith in the film and chose to have all the threads tied up. I mean, its so sad for the fans because the movie makes it very clear that we are not going to have anymore movies. sigh. 

slight respect towards the film makers for tying up all the story threads instead of leaving them hanging. they did a neat job, even if it wasn’t a great one.

Anyway, maybe later on when google images has more than the promotional material I’ll do a review of only the good stuff this movie did, even if its a sad pathetic failure of an adaptation. Anyway this review is a bit of a mess and already so long so i’ll stop now. 

May the gods give us strength against all the Tom Holland stans that will inevitably clog up the Chaos Walking tag with their Todd Hewitt x reader fanfics.

#Threeeyes speaks for once #messy film review #took forever to do this #i truly do feel for the Chaos walking fandom #As a Percy Jackson fan #I can only say #First Time? #Chaos Walking #Knife of Never Letting Go #Tom Holland 2021 #Daisy Ridley 2021 #Viola Eade #Todd Hewitt #Chaos Walking 2021

[phylophe]

Another character for the expansion of Aeollis' and Arkos' story, this time someone of their generation. More under the cut.

I want to also note that Myrah is one of my oldest OCs and was born all the way back in 2003 (if I recall correctly), a few days older than Zylin and Petronilla, who belonged in the same batch. Her teenage design hasn't really changed since then, and even her name is mostly the same (initially it was "Myra"). So happy that I get the chance to revive and develop her.

The High Chamber and the Elevated

Sastrugia's head of governance is a secret panel of five people known as the High Chamber, and directly under them are the Elevated - six families known for their magical potency: Skerr, Fjorde, Os, Sandr, Tjarn, and the newly-elevated Rogen. They are contracted to serve the High Chamber by offering their best and brightest children as Oblations for the highest national interests. In return, these children are closely nurtured in order to unearth and develop any magical talent they may possess.

Of these, Skerr, Fjorde, and Os are the oldest; names hailing from the decades of war from which the nation of Sastrugia rose. The Skerr family is historically known for weapon expertise, while the Fjorde family offered their dominion over earth and water in battlefield control.

The Os Family

The Os family, in contrast to both the Skerrs and the Fjordes, have produced generations of brawlers - individuals who were not only born physically strong and robust, but have mastered the methods of magically enhancing and augmenting their bodies, heightening their strength, reflexes, and senses to superhuman levels, if only temporarily.

Over the recent decades, the Os family's loyalty to the High Chamber has wavered; with technological advances and relative peace, their services have largely been redundant. Their reputation for being the brawn of the nation in turn causes them to be dismissed as having "less brains to offer", and there is growing bitterness as the services of the Skerrs and Fjordes have remained relevant.

Myrah Os

Myrah was born to a mother of the Os bloodline, and was imposed with the surname when she was chosen as the female Oblation of her generation and offered at the age of five.

It was unclear as to why a family known for producing the best muscle would offer such a runt of a child; while Myrah was generally healthy, she was small and thin for her age, and the structure of her body was deemed unsuitable for strength training or building muscle. Moreover, she showed little talent in harnessing the magic of her family.

Initially dismissed as another "dud" who would be relegated to working an unremarkable office job for the government, Myrah turned out to be not only academically intelligent, but innovative - and seemingly without the burden of moral considerations. By the time she reached adolescence, she excelled in the field of chemistry, and had set her sights on the study areas of biochemistry and pharmacology.

A few years later, now a young adult, she declared to the High Chamber:

"I can offer you more strength than any Oblation of Os - past and present - can offer you."

She asked for test subjects - prisoners, criminals, dregs of society vanished for convenience - and turned them into brawlers using not magic, but science.

And so her place was secured, her value and thus her safety ensured. Myrah Os became one of the most highly-regarded active Oblations, codenamed "Poison", and was possibly the only one who did not work with magic.

Relationships with Other Oblations

Her lack of proficiency in magic not withstanding, Myrah spent a lot of her upbringing alongside Oblations of War - Sastrugia's arsenal of human weapons, the best mages among the Oblations with their abilities adapted and honed for battle - due to her work's military and warfare applications.

Galen (M) Fjorde

Galen Fjorde twins (separately called Arkos and Aeollis) are five years Myrah's senior. She hardly knew Aeollis as the older girl was sent to board at a military training facility when Myrah had just been offered, but she knew Arkos as an acquaintance.

There was always a knowing, acknowledging sort of caution between them. Myrah would explicitly express her disapproval, however, when Arkos acted out of line and stirred trouble.

"You know they can and will make you disappear if you push things too far, right?" She'd admonish him, age and height differences be damned.

"And it's better to just obey their every word, put your head down, and live like this?" He'd retort.

"Not every word, just enough of it."

Enough to placate. Enough to pass. Enough to stay safe. Secure a space, even if it's not the top spot. Keep it safe, keep it close, and keep it yours. Make a claim, and take it, grab it so tightly lest it be wrested from you.

Salem Skerr

Certainly Myrah gets a decent supply of human subjects for experiments, but she has always wanted to test her drugs and augments on either a strong magic user or someone who already excels in physical combat. Salem Skerr happens to be both. It was unfortunate that her repeated requests for him as a test subject were always rejected.

Of course, with some careful planning, nothing actually stops her from personally offering him some of her inventions. Salem may or may not often keep these on his person, in case they ever come in handy.

Serrak Tjarn

Despite Serrak Tjarn being the closest in age with Myrah amongst the active Oblations of War, they were not particularly close. Their neutral and mostly indifferent relationship eventually took on an edge of hostility when Eryth Rogen joined their ranks, and Serrak appeared not to acknowledge the addition.

Perhaps in response to this, with or without the conscious decision to doing so, Myrah actively looked out for Eryth, taking her in as a sort of adoptive younger sibling.

"If anyone gives you a hard time, I'll provide you with something to slip into their drink."

Eryth Rogen

When the Rogen girl - the first Oblation of her family, and the entire reason the family was now Elevated - arrived and soon became absolutely miserable, Myrah would tell her this.

"There are ways to survive, and they involve doing not too little, and not too much. Hang in there, do your job. Keep your eyes open and your mouth closed. Give them what they ask of you, entice them with just a little more, but hold your true potential for yourself... just in case."

Sastrugia wants to own her, and Myrah would gladly offer a version of herself that they would like to own. Soft-hearted as the younger girl was, Myrah hoped that Eryth would find her own way to survive the system.

As for why she holds onto the rest... even she does not know. Perhaps there can be more to her life, even if she is contented with just surviving for now. So until then, when and if more comes to light, she will hold on.

Just in case.

#opheart #ophefic #wayfinder #characters #myrah

[imagininggintama]

Meeting Again, At Last

Summary:

This piece revolves around an OC for the work Gintama.

When I originally made her, I thought Kondo was a lot older than he actually is in the series, so forgive me on that point.

The story explores Kiana, Kondo's adopted daughter who later became the personal on-site doctor for the Shinsengumi, and her separation from her birth family. Throughout are sprinkled bits of the past, such as the day she was lost, when Kondo found her, meeting Sougo, and a couple of others. It touches briefly on the after affects of her attack, which include amnesia and traumatic mutism.

The current day story is an exploration of her finding and reuniting with her birth family.Just for warning: there is a mention of blood, head trauma, and the main centered OC is very anxious through most of the story.

Word Count: 4.7k

Characters: Isao Kondo, Toushirou Hijikata, Sougo Okita, Mitsuba Okita, Sagaru Yamazaki, Kiana (OC), Tsukiko (OC), Kou (OC - twins’ father), Akemi (OC - twins’ mother)

Thanks for taking the time to read! :)

I might try to write a follow up to this if anyone is interested!

Started writing on Oct. 23, 2020 and finished Feb. 6, 2021. QwQ

On AO3 as well! Here!

Kinda requested by @ah-muiii​

“Kiana! Come on, let’s go!” the giggles of a black haired child sounded through the halls of the guest house. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and she was wearing a red kimono with a white floral design. Her hand held tightly onto the one she referred to as ‘Kiana’.

“Tsuki-- Tsukiko....!” Kiana gave a soft whine, struggling to keep herself steady as she was dragged through the halls. Similar to Tsukiko, she had black hair that was cut shoulder length, bright cyan eyes, and a matching kimono in a pale blue with pink floral designs.

"We don't have a lot of time before papa comes back! I want to play while we can!" Tsukiko's giggles grew louder, grabbing one of their favorite balls and going outside. Their father was a politician, so he would often go out of town for political reasons. The twins, Tsukiko and Kiana, would often make a point to try and find a good area to play together in. They never went too far from the guest house, especially when they knew their parents would be back from a meeting.

"Oh no! I'm sorry Tsuki!! I didn't mean to throw it that far!" Kiana gave a soft whine, apologizing for sending the ball past her sister. They had been playing for a little bit by this point and the sky was starting to change colors.

"Don't worry, I can go get it! You wait here!" Tsukiko waved to her and ran off towards the ball. She slipped through the alleyway towards the ball, grabbing it, and turning back towards her sister. Her eyes got wide and panic began to settle in the pit of her stomach. Her sister was nowhere to be seen and blood was splattered on the ground where they had just been playing.

-

"Please, if you've seen our daughter... We won't ask any questions, please just bring her back to us. There's a reward and you can contact us at the number on the screen."

Akemi, the twins' mother, held Tsukiko in her arms, shaking and still in shock by the disappearance of her other daughter.

Not long after the announcement was made on TV, missing posters were put up all over. Anything and anywhere they could, they put her picture on alongside the reward and plea for her return. All of their efforts were in vain, however, as days and weeks passed with no sign. Half a year passed and before they knew it, it had been an entire year she had been missing. The couple never stopped looking, but focused most of their energy to Tsukiko and to help her deal with the loss of her sister.

-

"Sou-chan! You're going out, right?" the dark haired doctor asked, smiling at the young Shinsengumi member. He turned towards her as she spoke.

"Yeah, do you need something, Ki-chan?" Sougo Okita, captain of the first squad, smiled back at the girl. It wasn't often that she asked for favors, so he didn't mind helping her.

"If you could bring back some rice, I'd really appreciate it. I'll pay you back when I can get out tomorrow. I just need it for dinner tonight," she explained quickly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just get Hijikata to pay me back," he snickered as she gently smacked his arm.

"Don't you dare! I'll have lunch ready for you when you get back. Be safe," she giggled and gave him a hug before a small wave as he started walking off towards his destination.

-

"Sougo!" The older man shouted cheerfully, walking up to his young student with someone hiding behind him. "I wanted to introduce you to my daughter, Kiana. She doesn't talk much, but she's very sweet." He moved so that the girl was now in front of him, his hands gently on her shoulders.

The girl looked younger than his sister, but was definitely older than he was. He wasn't good at guessing people's ages, so he just left it at that. She had her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, nervously fiddling with her fingers before giving the smallest wave to him. He blinked and grabbed hold of her hand, shocking her slightly.

"Ki-chan, have you met my big sister?" With barely a shake of her head, he was pulling her off to meet Mitsuba.

"How much does she need?" Sougo hummed to himself, looking at the grocery store on his walk. He planned on grabbing it on his way back, but he figured he should decide how much he should get before that point. He didn't want to over or under buy, but he wasn't sure how much she usually cooked for everyone. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when one of the big screens nearby suddenly changed from what it was previously advertising.

"Hello, we apologize for this interruption but we would like to bring you a very important message this afternoon. If you have any information that can help, please contact the number at the bottom of your screen. We will now air the message from model Tsukiko Mochizuki."

Sougo shifted his weight and turned to look better at the screen, watching the broadcast with a rising curiosity. It soon changed to a video of a fairly well known model, causing his brow to raise. He had heard her name before, but only seen her in passing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she seemed oddly familiar...

"Hello, as you may know, my name is Tsukiko Mochizuki. I am posting this message in hopes to find my lost twin sister, who was attacked and abducted when we were little girls. On the screen there will be an image of what my sister, Kiana Mochizuki, might look like today. If anyone has any information about her... please, please call the number on the screen." The broadcast continued with Tsukiko's explanation, talking about where it happened and precisely when it happened. Sougo pulled his phone out, quickly typing in the familiar phone number.

"Hey, Kondo-san? You near a T.V.? Turn it on, there's this model that looks just like Ki-chan. I'm on my way back, I can talk to her when I get there. Huh? Okay, yeah, sure."

-

The weather was currently rainy with a terrible side of rain. A man was making his way back home from the grocery store, tightly gripping the umbrella in his hand as the wind tried to blow it away. He was lucky he remembered the route by heart, because the heavy rain made it hard to see too far ahead of him. There was one thing that caught his eye, however, when he decided to look at the street in passing.

There was, what he could barely make out, a small figure lying in a puddle with blood seeping from a head wound. His eyes grew wide as he dropped everything to rush over and scoop up the child, running to the nearest doctor as fast as he could.

Hours passed as he waited to see if the girl was okay. She seemed so frail that he was afraid she wouldn't make it...

"Kondo? Isao Kondo?" The voice of the nurse brought him from his thoughts, glancing up.

"Yes?" was all he could manage, eyes big with worry.

"The doctor wanted me to let you know that you can come back to her room. She's physically going to be okay."

"Physically...?" His brow raised, worried what might come next.

"Unfortunately, we don't know how she is mentally yet. She's still unconscious."

-

"Sweetheart, can I talk with you for a moment?" the Shinsengumi leader, Isao Kondo, leaned into the office of the doctor. A smile spread on her lips as she turned in her chair, looking up at him.

"Of course! What is it you need?" She was used to seeing her father-like figure for trivial medical reasons, but still enjoyed the company now and again. It was usually very quiet when she didn't have any appointments, so a change of pace was always nice.

"Let me start by saying, you'll always be part of our family. Okay?" He sat in the chair across from her, gently taking her hands into his own. She blinked, nodding slightly in a quick reply to him, her brows raised in confusion. "There was a report that aired recently, that we may think you're connected to."

"Like on the news? Why would I-"

"Yes, on the news," he quickly cut her off in an attempt to finish, "This woman... the one who made the video, she's looking for her lost twin sister... Her name is Tsukiko Mochizuki, her sister's name is... Kiana Mochizuki and she looks... a lot like you, almost identical really. I think... it might be worth it to look into this." He finished, watching her face contort with confusion.

"You think... You think this Tsukiko person could be part of my... birth family...?" Her brows knitted together, concern rising as she squeezed his hands gently. A slight worry could be heard in her voice, but he couldn't quite pinpoint at what part she was specifically worried over.

"Now, listen... Sweetie, calm down. No matter what happens with them, you have family right here. I just... I think we should definitely talk to them. I mean, even when you couldn't speak--"

-

The small girl clung tightly to Kondo's hand as the doctors tried speaking with her, seeming to already trust the male.

"Now, sweetie, do you remember your name?" The doctor questioned, sitting in front of her. She shook her head silently in reply. His brow raised. He asked a few more questions, trying to fully understand her situation. When he finally asked if she could speak, her tiny mouth opened but no words came out.

"Can you remember if you were able to speak before this-" Soft sobs could be heard before he finished his question, clinging to Kondo and crying. He sighed as the other male held her close to him.

"We'll try to work with her over time... We can find a foster family for her to stay with during that period."

"That's... No need. I'll take care of her," Kondo quickly blurted out, patting her head very gently.

"Traumatic mutism, most likely caused by the injury of what happened-"

"Let me finish, sweetie... I normally don't mind you explaining everything, but let's finish this conversation, okay?" He hated cutting her off so much, but he needed to get it fully out with as little distractions as possible. "When you weren't able to tell me anything, you still managed to find a way to tell me your name... the name you wanted to be called... Possibly the only thing you managed to remember after your accident."

"I remember..."

-

"Well, hello there princess. You enjoying your book?" His grin was contagious as her own lips pulled into a wide grin. She pulled on his sleeve, signalling that she wanted to sit with him while she read.

"I can't right now, I'm-"

Tug. Tug. Tug. He sighed and sat with her, glancing over what she was reading. To his surprise, she was pointing out a specific name in the book. It was one of the larger books she often read, but he couldn't understand what she was trying to say with this name.

"Kiana... That's a pretty name. What about it?" His brow raised and she gave a small pout. She insistently pointed at the name again, then quickly pointing at herself. He blinked quietly as she did this a few more times, before it finally clicked.

"Is that your name?" A wide smile broke out as he picked her up. She nodded and hugged him.

-

"We can call the number, have some tests done, and they'll call us after they get the results. Okay? We'll have some time before we have to see them so you can prepare yourself... Does that sound alright?" He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, smiling softly at her.

"I... I guess... I hope we're not wasting anyone's time..." She shifted in her seat, staring at the floor. He pulled her into a tight hug, not expecting how tightly she would hug back. His hand gingerly patted her back, trying to calm her down when she began shaking.

-

"Mitsu-chan, you should really be relaxing," Kiana gently scolded the older female, handing her a glass of water.

"But Ki-chan-"

"No buts! Sou-chan was really worried when you started coughing. Just... Give it a couple of days and you should feel a bit better."

Mistuba sighed and took the water, drinking it slowly. Kiana sat next to her bed quietly, looking her over to fully make sure she was alright.

"You're going to make a great doctor one day, Ki-chan. If you become famous, just don't forget about us." She couldn't help but giggle as the other's face went bright red.

"I'm... Not gonna be famous... Sure, I'll be gone long enough to get my doctorate... But my home is here... With daddy... With you... And with Sou-chan."

-

It was a few days after their initial call that they were brought to the Mochizuki's personal doctor. Sougo and Kondo were with her during the visit, only leaving behind Hijikata to make sure the men stayed in line. Kondo held her hand during the entire time they were there, reassuring her that everything was alright. Being a doctor, she was fairly used to the needed medical procedures, but her anxiety was still fairly high over the whole ordeal. The trio left after she gave multiple DNA samples and were told that they should have the answers within the week.

"Kiki-chan... You doin' okay?" Hijikata asked upon their arrival back to the Shinsengumi, looking down at the smaller figure. She merely gave a small nod and the quickest flash of a smile, forcing his brows to knit together.

"Oi," he grumbled and grabbed her, pulling her into a hug despite the risk some of the men would see, "stop being so pessimistic... We're here for you. We're all here for you. No matter what happens, we'll always be here. Okay? You're part of our family, no matter what the tests say."

"Thanks, Hijikata-san," she replied in earnest, hugging him back with a soft smile. The four walked inside together, Kondo suggesting they watch a movie to ease their nerves.

-

"Hijikata-san?" Kiana's voice trembled softly as she addressed the new face that had been appearing around the dojo lately. Hijikata's brow raised at the sudden voice, turning to look up at her.

"Ah, you must be his daughter. Sorry, I'll leave." He began to stand, thinking he was troubling her and her family.

"Please wait...! I thought you might be hungry, so I made you something to eat..." She held out a bowl of food, causing him to blink in confusion. He took it from her slowly.

"Thank you... But how did you know how I like my food...?" He frowned at her soft giggle, concerned she was going to make fun of him...

"I saw the mayonnaise bottles in the trash. I started to notice there always seemed to be a certain number after meal times, so I figured you were putting it on your food. I hope I did it right."

"Yeah... Thanks."

-

"Hijikata, there's a call waiting for Ki-chan. Can you go get her?" Sougo was currently holding the phone, covering the receiver so that the line would be mute or muffled at the least.

"Who's calling?" His brow arched, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Well..." The younger one's face said all he needed to know.

"Ahh, I'll be back then."

It was a short walk to the doctor's office, giving a quick knock to see if she was currently busy or not. The sound of papers shuffling could be heard before the door opened, pulling her hair back behind her ears before smiling up at the vice chief.

"Hijikata-san! To what do I owe the visit? Do you need a check up-"

"You have a call waiting for you."

"A call...?" She blinked, not immediately making the connection like he had. Before he could explain, a soft frown formed on her lips, "...oh..."

"It'll be alright... They can't force you to do anything you don't want to. Best case scenario is that you know your birth family and can reconnect with them; worst case scenario this was all a waste of time. You're still the doctor of the Shinsengumi either way. Nothing will change that. Now, c'mon, we can't keep them waiting forever." He gently put his hand on her back, leading her to where the phone was.

-

Almost everyone was waiting around the corner, wanting to hear the news on what would happen to their doctor... Many in the Shinsengumi were around long enough to remember when Kondo first found her... Thinking of her like a little sister figure. Others came to know her after she got finished with school and became their doctor. One thing was certain, though, they all cared about her and knew that this whole situation was stressing her out a great deal.

Upon seeing the group of men hovering nearby, Hijikata growled at them to get back to work. While he was nervous for her as well, he knew that needlessly suffocating her with attention wasn't going to help any... He caught a quick glimpse of her just as she hung up the phone, deciding it was now an okay time to go check on her.

"So... What did they say?" he asked lowly, trying not to spook her. She slowly turned her gaze up to him, eyes still big in shock.

"It's... a match... They want to meet me... and they've already set up a day... I can't... Not so suddenly... I have appointments... And... And... I..." He quickly put his jacket around her, pulling her close and taking her to another room. He wanted her somewhere dim and quiet, hoping to help ease her down before a panic attack occurred.

"Kondo and I will figure everything out, okay? Just calm down for now and we'll work it out soon enough."

-

"Excuse me," an unfamiliar man spoke as he walked into the Shinsengumi, "I'm looking for Dr. Kondo? I'm her driver."

"I'll go get her," Yamazaki blinked and left the area to find her. They all knew this was coming, so he first looked around for the chief or vice chief. It didn't take too long to find them, seeing the two of them with Kiana.

"Is that a new kimono? It looks nice." He gave a small smile, hoping it would help ease the tension he felt upon entering the room. "Uh, a driver is here looking for Kiki-san."

"Thank you, Yamazaki-san... You can let him know we'll be out in a minute." He nodded and left the three to let him know.

"Come on, sweetheart. It'll be fine. Both Toshi and I will be here with you," Kondo reassured, pulling her gently to stand. The three made their way out the building, blinking at the limousine parked in front.

-

The ride to the Mochizuki residence was fairly quiet and unexpectedly long. Kou, the father, was a political figure and had been since before his daughters were born. His wife, Akemi, became a fashion designer; initially only doing it in her spare time but it began to really take off in the past decade. Her clothes were particularly popular among Amanto, so were often shipped to other planets as well. Tsukiko, the older of the twins, became a model for her mother's clothing line. Aside from her modeling career, she typically spends most of her life fairly privately and out of the public's eye.

Due to their wealth, they currently resided in a small mansion that was a bit closer to the big city over. This was most likely due to where his work in politics took him.

The trees passed by the car in a long blur of brown and green, slight variations appearing every few seconds. It was all Kiana could do to keep herself mentally well. She had gone over so many questions and possible answers in her head that by this point all she was left with was an empty worried feeling. The first thoughts that had come to her when she realized she was indeed related were fairly angry and illogical ones. They consisted of: "how could you abandon me?", "why didn't you try harder to look for me?", "why wait until now?! What's it matter so many years later?" She knew logically that between grief and other issues it would've been difficult to locate her, especially so with her memory being gone.

Before long, the mansion in question began to come into view. It was much larger than she had expected, seeing a fountain out front in the middle of the round about driveway. What looked like a pool could barely be made out on the side and towards the back.

"Tch," Hijikata gave a soft scoff, glaring at all the... Lovely additions that the place had. "Typical rich bastards, always needing to show off their wealth."

He earned a jab in the side from Kondo, grunting before realizing why the other had done it. "No offense to you, Kiki-chan..."

"We may be related, but we're practically strangers... They're going to be so excited to see me... But I... I don't know how to feel."

"I'm sure they'll understand, sweetheart. I think they'll be very emotional upon seeing you, but remember it's been years for them... After the initial shock, I'm almost positive they'll try to work on your terms for rebuilding a relationship." Kondo gently held her hand as the limousine came to a stop right out front.

"He's right. They've spent this long looking for you, I don't think they'd wanna risk losing you again due to clinginess."

"You're probably right... Thank you. Both of you." She smiled softly, exiting the car after the driver opened the door for them.

The trio were greeted by a man, ushering them to follow him to the dining room. She couldn't help but look around curiously, taking in all the new sights. It was surprisingly homey compared to how it all seemed from the outside. There were framed pictures of the family or articles of achievements. The furniture looked like it was well used and not simply for decoration, and if the cat lazing about on the sofa said anything- it was that they were fairly relaxed about the use of them for animals and people alike.

Kiana was suddenly pulled from her thoughts as Kondo grabbed her hand and pulled her to a multi-leveled shelf full of smaller pictures. "Honey, that's you," he spoke softly and pointed out a picture of two black haired girls sitting together. "That's the exact kimono you were wearing when I found you."

Her eyes grew wide, picking up the picture to get a closer look at the girls. She knew that was her, but everything else just felt... So strange and unfamiliar.

"Ah, that picture was taken the day you went missing, Miss. That's you and your older sister, Tsukiko."

"Tsu... ki... ko..." She blinked rapidly, a sudden warm and wet feeling gracing her cheek. She pressed her finger to her cheek, surprising herself to find she had teared up a bit.

"Kiki!"

"Sweetie, are you alright?!" Kondo pulled a tissue out to gently wipe her face, concern heavily on both his and Hijikata's faces. 'I'm fine,' she sort of mumbled, quickly putting the picture frame back with the others where she found it.

"I'm not sure why I did that," she admitted, gently grabbing Kondo's arm and turning back towards where they had originally been headed. They arrived in what they could assume was a waiting area, a couple of chairs and couches set about for idle chatter. A brown haired man with icy-blue eyes stood up, wearing a black and white three piece suit. The lines on his face became much more prominent as he smiled, glancing at each of them from behind his glasses.

"Welcome, my name is Kou, and this is my lovely wife, Akemi." He gestured to the woman who had been sitting next to him. Her dark raven hair was pulled up in an elegant bun and they could feel the warmth and love from her dark blue-green eyes. She smiled and stood up as well.

"Tsukiko will be along shortly. She's been the most anxious out of us to meet you... Would you mind if I hugged you?" Akemi spoke, soon taking a step closer to Kiana. It was a weird new sensation for her, but not a bad one.

"Okay," she replied very quietly, feeling out of place with having so much attention on her. The older woman gently wrapped her arms around her, fully knowing she might not be hugged back but enjoying the brief closeness to her daughter. Kou soon followed suit for a brief hug before the two began speaking with Kondo and Hijikata. They wanted to know more about her life, but wanted to avoid stressing her out more than the current situation already was.

As they chatted, Kiana wandered into the dining room for a bit of quiet. It was large and could very well fit a table for twenty or more, but there was a much smaller table placed in the middle of the room. It looked like they specifically brought out a large enough table to situate the six of them for the meal.

"Mom and dad always like having meals together if we can. So, small tables for conversations and closeness." The sudden voice startled her slightly, turning to see what she assumed was Tsukiko. Tsukiko's black hair was pulled up in a ponytail, bangs framing the sides of her face. If it weren't for the slight differences, such as hair and minor details of the face, she would've assumed that there was a mirror and not another living person in front of her.

"I have to say, it's not fair," she muttered before giving her a chance to reply, standing right next to her, "I'm the older one, and a model, and yet you..." She made a gesture of curves with her hands, snickering to herself softly.

"Tsukiko," the doctor's voice rang out softly, almost strained and full of sadness as her eyes teared up. The overwhelming feeling of sorrow overcoming her, chest suddenly feeling tight. "Tsukiko!" and with that, Kiana latched onto her older sister, starting to sob quietly. Her body shook slightly, a sudden feeling of love and longing for her twin filling her. It was all she could remember, but it was such a strong emotion that it was almost unbearable.

Tsukiko blinked, but smiled softly and gently pulled her to sit on one of the couches. While she hated to see her cry, it made her happy to know that somewhere deep down inside of her still remembered her family. This was enough for her for now. She finally had her sister back and they could work on everything else with time. Her hand gently pet the other's hair, holding her close.

-

"Was that Kiki?!" Hijikata blurted out after hearing her shout and then began to cry. Kondo grabbed his shoulder to stop him from bursting in on the sibling reunion.

"Tsukiko-san seems to have things handled. I think it just took being with her sister again to remember anything." He explained his thoughts, smiling at the two currently curled up on the couch.

"I haven't seen Tsukiko smile this much in years," Kou admitted, arm around his wife's shoulders.

"It's such a lovely sight. Why don't the four of us go elsewhere for the time being? I want them to have some time alone together."

Hijikata muttered softly but gave a small nod, following them away from the dining room. Kondo lingered for a bit, smiling at the two of them together. He would always be her family, but he couldn't help but feel happy for her to have finally recovered some of her memories. What a crazy little world they lived in.

#gintama #gintama scenario #text post #gintama scenarios #OC #my OC #gintama oc #original character #original #gintama fic #kondo isao #Isao Kondo #Hijikata #Toshiro Hijikata #Hijikata Toshiro #Hijikata Toushirou #toushirou hijikata #okita sougo #Sougo Okita #Okita Mitsuba #mitsuba okita #Yamazaki Sagaru #oc tag

[bers1990]

Before i go any further, make no mistake, i own nothing. I don't own the clip art pictures i used, i don't own the show and i certainly don't own the characters. The only thing i own are the younger characters and that's about it. I guess you could argue that i also own the adult designs for Zak and his wife, but that's debatable.   Like the title says, this is a future portrait of the Saturday family, and it's a full family portrait, which means it includes more than just Zak, his wife and his 3 children. It also includes his parents, his Uncle Doyle and his 3 cryptid "siblings". I'm aware that Doc, Drew and Doyle don't look any older, even though Zak is roughly in his 40's or so, and i admit, that was my faux pas. I suppose one could argue that it makes no difference how Fiskeron, Komodo and Zon all look at this point, since very few animals show signs of aging any way. But i was going to at least give Doc, Drew and Doyle gray streaks in their hair, maybe a small wrinkle or two, anything that would reflect them aging 27 years (they would still be in tip top shape though, of course). Anyway, let's go around and get some more information about the Saturday family of the future: Left to Right: Dr. Solomon "Doc" Saturday - Even though he's going on late 60's to early 70's, Doc Saturday is still the adventurous yet science and reason minded man he's always been. Though, in recent years, he's allowed his love for his work and inventions to gain more influence over him, and needless to say, that's begun to put some strain on his marriage. Drew Blackwell-Saturday - Still as feisty as ever, even when between the ages of late 50's to early 60's, Drew Saturday has begun to devote more of her time to the archaeologist aspect of her career, which she had long set aside for many years. This has allowed her more time to get in touch with her emotions and, needless to say, it helped bring about a storm to her marriage with Doc. Komodo Saturday - Thanks to the genetic engineering that he went through early on, Komodo Saturday is still alive and kicking, with old age only creeping up on him in minor ways (e.g. being out of breath when he moves so little). At one point, Komodo and his fellow cryptids; Zon and the Fiskerton Phantom (Fisk), all had a strong and inseparable bond with their adopted human "brother", Zak Saturday, who returned their loving feelings in full. However, as time went on, the strength of this camaraderie began to weaken, as Zak started to spend more of his time with the woman who would one day be his wife and, eventually, started a family with her. The strong bond is still present though, just in different ways. In Komodo's case, it's in him acting as the nanny and nursemaid to Zak's daughter, Carol, whom he protects fiercely.   Carol Drew Saturday - As i've said numerous times in the past; this is my fan-made daughter for Zak Saturday. She is very good at planning things out before acting and is a true prodigy when comes to dealing with Cryptids. However, like her father, she is often prone to allow her impetuous nature get the better of her, causing her to do things that, under more cool-headed circumstances, she would never think right. Carol has always been close to her father, to the point where she inherited his original "Claw" as her own signature weapon. But if there was one person was a close second in terms of bond, that would be Komodo, her nanny and ever vigilant protector. By the way, as i'm sure you can already tell, Carol owes her middle name to her paternal grandmother, something that she is proud to know. Zakery Thomas Saturday - At one point, he was the scrappy and adventurous little boy of Doc and Drew Saturday gifted (or cursed) with telapathic powers over cryptids. Now, he's the stern, no-nonsense and physically imposing Beta of the Saturday pack (set to take Doc's place as patriarch of the family). Having lost none of the skills he had as a child, as well as gained a few new ones, Zak is still just as formidible an opponent as ever. Though, just like his own father before him, Zak's paternal instincts are his strongest trait, right alongside his loyalty to his wife.   Ulraj Elija Saturday - Named after both his ancestor, Elija Saturday and his godfather, the King of Kumari Kandam, Ulraj is the first born child of Zak Saturday. Being the eldest, Ulraj constantly feels the need to be the responsible and level-headed one of the litter, to the point where he acts as the leader of his siblings. For the most part, he is leadership material, and is rather mature, responsible and level-headed. But, unfortunately, those very qualities have also led him to be a tad self-righteous; he almost always thinks that his way is right. Still though, his inner sense of humilty does keep that aspect of his character in check (more or less). He inherited the Saturday genius gene and is quite the aspiring inventor because of it. Whenever he has the time, he is usually seen using a blowtorch on something or wrenching something tighly. He even designed his own modest suit of armor which is both protective yet light to move in, proudly sporting the Saturday family logo on the chestplate. I'm well aware that his hair makes him look like Zak Monday, that's why i gave him the suit of armor in the first place. Fiskerton Saturday - Still the same lovable giant furball he's always been, this 8-foot tall Gorilla-Cat remains the most unique and mysterious member of Saturday family, as well as its main muscle. At one point, Fiskerton and Zak were as thick as thieves, along with Komodo and Zon. Though, out of all of them, Fiskerton had the strongest bond with Zak. This cameraderie began to weaken, however, as Zak began to start a family of his very own. But Fisk remained as loyal as ever, and even took an active interest in the development of Zak's eldest son, Ulraj, often trying to keep him humble. Wadi Saturday - Ever since they first met as 11-12 year old children, Wadi's chemistry, and general relationship, with Zak Saturday has always been erratic at best. On the one hand they had a few qualities that made them similar, but on the other hand, they tended to bicker and clash quite a bit. It wasn't until Zak's 13th Birthday that the two of them realized that all of this was the result of a growing romance, one that officially began when Wadi kissed Zak on the cheek. The two of them began a long distance relationship after that and it lasted for a good long time, many years in fact. But Zak and Wadi were not hopeless romantics, they were well aware that their relationship was no different than anyone else's. Which means, like anyone else's, it could come to an end for any reason at all. How long the two of them thought about this, they would never tell the other, but think it they both did. Still though, both ultimately decided to burn that bridge when they came to it, and did their best to keep their minds in the present when it came to their relationship. Surprisingly enough, Zak and Wadi's love for each other never once wavered and ultimately led to Zak proposing to Wadi when they were both between the ages of 23-24. She gladly accepted this proposal and they were married as soon as possible, much to the delight of their respective families. As far as Wadi's personality goes, it's relatively the same as it was years ago; she's still pretty assertive yet relatively soft-spoken at the same time. She has also become more open about her feelings towards Zak, now that she knows how he feels about her. But the biggest change to Wadi is that she's gained more control over her kleptomania; now she will only steal something if the situation calls for it (like getting a dangerous object away from a villain). Like her mother-in-law, she is a fiercely protective mother (though she's not as over-bearing), she will do anything to protect her three children, even pummel someone into submission.     Maboul Farhan Saturday - The youngest of Zak and Wadi's littler, as well as the most timid, is little Maboul Farhan Saturday. Needless to say, he was named after his maternal grandfather, a fact that he is very proud of. In fact, out of all of his siblings, Maboul is the most in touch with his Hassi and, subsequently, Arabian heritage. He has done all he could to learn the ways of his people and, because of this, has developed a strong bond with his mother. She even passed on to him her treasured Thieves Yo-Yo, much like how Zak passed down his "Claw" to Maboul's sister, Carol. Now, personality-wise, Maboul is a rather meek and timid child, which makes it pretty easy for his siblings to sway him. However, when the situation calls for it, he will at least try to be assertive. Fortunately, he will always have the protection of his "aunt", Zon, on his side. BTW, Maboul's middle name. Farhan, is actually Arabic for "happy", because that's how his parents felt when he was born. Zon Saturday - With exception of being the de facto nanny of Maboul, Zon is relatively the same, though, i'd imagine her skin and wings would be more rusty looking by this point. Much like her two adopted "brothers", she used to be very close to Zak Saturday in his youth. But when Zak started to spend more and more time with his growing new family and spent less and less time with her, Fiskerton and Komodo, Zon eventually tried to cope with this by forming a bond with one of Zak's kids, Maboul grew closest her and they've been inseparable ever since. Doyle Blackwell - Doyle's pretty much the same guy he's always been, nuff said. Though, he is somewhat more concerned about the frequent issues his older sister and brother-in-law are having. He is also just as close to his great nephews and great niece as he was with Zak.

#the secret saturdays #Fanart

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Follow You Down (3 of 13)

CHAPTER 3: ESKEL 

  ON AO3 HERE

CW: Geralt’s headspace; hunting and field dressing of venison; subdrop

Story Summary: 

Geralt was never supposed to survive the Trials. A submissive witcher was an abomination, an insult to the order of the world. He must never let anyone know his nature, must never accept a gentle touch or a kind word. It's too risky, too dangerous. He might slip up, and that would mean the end of everything.

But Jaskier refuses to keep to the script. After the boisterous (alluring), overly invasive (affectionate), and stupidly persistent (brave) Dominant walks into his life with bread in his pants, Geralt starts to think that maybe her could break this endless cycle of deprivation and pain. If only he could figure out how to deserve it.

CHAPTER 3: ESKEL

Approx 8,100 words under the cut

It took Geralt two weeks to fully heal from the cave in.  He was functional on the third day after his injury, but only in the sense that he could press through the pain and function at the risk of worsening his injury. Jaskier had insisted Geralt refrain from hunting until he was completely healed despite his protests of functionality. The only way Jaskier had gotten Geralt to agree was by reminding him that if, due to his injury, he couldn’t perform at full capacity, Jaskier, Roach, or Potato might get hurt as a result. Taking a break to protect himself was unnecessary, but Geralt wouldn’t risk the safety of his travel companions.

 And so, for two weeks Jaskier had played in inns from Brugge to Dorian, gathering crowds and coin in every nameless village along the way.  Geralt had heard of a harpy problem on the sea cliffs outside Gors Velen, so they were heading in that direction, traveling slowly so as not to tire the horses needlessly while Geralt healed.  If the harpy contract didn’t pan out, they could always head to Novigrad; there was never a shortage of contracts in a city that large.

 Today, Geralt and Jaskier had pitched camp about half a day’s ride from Gors Velen.  Geralt, finally healed and free from restriction, went off to hunt fresh game for their dinner while Jaskier set up camp and settled the horses.  He hadn’t said as much, but his joy at being free to roam again was writ large in his eagerness to hunt, to provide for Jaskier properly again.  

Geralt tracked a herd of deer through the woodlands just outside the border of Brokilon, careful to never stray within its bounds lest a volley of arrows from the dryad guards within end his life. The woodland buzzed with the sounds of mid-summer, cicadas chirping in the trees, rabbits bounding through the underbrush, and birds frantically hunting to feed their growing chicks. Geralt breathed deeply, enjoying the scents of warm grass, rich dirt, and blooming wild flowers.

 He carefully followed the trail of the deer herd, walking soundlessly over the forest floor and keeping well downwind.  He was patient, willing to take on a longer hunt for the greater reward venison would provide, pleased the long days afforded him the extra time.

 As the shadows lengthened in the deepening afternoon, Geralt caught up to the herd where it rested alongside a small, bubbling brook.  Geralt crouched in the shade of a large oak tree, unmoving, taking in the scene.  The herd leader stood watch, nose raised into the wind, nostrils flaring to catch any possible scent.  The does grazed around him, tails idly flicking flies away from their rumps.  The fawns cavorted with each other, tumbling head over heels in the long grass as they chased each other about.  Geralt scanned the herd for the most appropriate target, selecting an older doe with a cut down her leg.  She was unlikely to survive the season with a wound like that.  At least an arrow would be a quick death.

 Geralt raised his crossbow, already loaded, and took careful aim.  Vesemir had always taught him that he should only shoot when he was certain his arrow would strike true, ending the target’s life without pain.  It would not do to cause needless suffering.  Taking a deep breath and letting it out, steadying his aim as his lungs emptied and his arm stilled, Geralt loosed the arrow.  It struck true.  

 The rest of the herd scattered at the sound of the shot, bounding off into the woods.   Geralt rose, hooking the crossbow back onto his sword belt, and headed out in the clearing. When he reached the deer, he retrieved his arrow and flipped the carcass on its back to field dress it.  Spreading the doe’s hind legs with his, he cut a long incision up her belly before carefully removing her organs and flipping the carcass back over to drain the blood.  Out in the open like this, it was safer to dress the deer well away from their campsite to avoid attracting corpse eaters or scavengers.  

 As the doe drained, Geralt dug a deep, narrow hole in which to bury the deer’s organs and viscera so they wouldn’t attract necrophages or wolves that might harm passing travelers.  Finally satisfied with the field dressing, Geralt bound the doe’s legs together, one binding for each pair, front and back, and lifted the carcass up onto his shoulders for the trek back to camp.  

 He smiled to himself as he thought of Jaskier’s pleased reaction to the bounty.  With a haul this good, they would eat well for at least a couple weeks.  They had plenty of salt to cure the meat and could smoke it dry overnight to preserve it as jerky for the road ahead.  The deer hide should even fetch a decent price at the market in Gors Velen.  

 Geralt knew he wasn’t the best travel companion – or even a passable one most days – but he did his best to compensate for his many failings by keeping Jaskier safe and well fed on the road.  After two weeks of uselessness, of burdening Jaskier with his care, the least he could do was replenish their meat stores and ensure Jaskier didn’t go hungry.

 ----------------

 It was dusk by the time Geralt returned to camp with the doe.  Jaskier had already prepared a fire and a smoking rack in anticipation of Geralt’s success and he was delighted at the prospect of a good venison stew and the opportunity to replenish their stores with fresh jerky.  

 As Jaskier prepared the stew pot, Geralt skinned the deer and prepared the best cuts for the stew, dumping the chunks into the pot with the root vegetables and herbs Jaskier had already prepared.  While the stew cooked, Geralt cut the remaining venison into thin, even strips, handing each to Jaskier to salt and lay out on the smoking rack to dry.  

 The smell was mouthwatering and Geralt’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.  Jaskier chuckled at the sound, casting Geralt a fond look over the fire as they worked. Geralt’s appetite was formidable when he allowed himself to eat his fill.  Jaskier planned on encouraging him to do just that while they had such abundance.

 Suddenly, the wind shifted and Geralt caught a new scent in the air.  He froze, bloody hand raised partway toward clasping his sword hilt, head tilted to the side as he listened hard and scented the air. ��Jaskier stopped his work, watching Geralt with concern.

 “Geralt?”  He asked quietly, “what is it?”

 Geralt’s eyes narrowed in concentration, focusing completely on the new scent and sounds.  “Someone’s coming.”  He said.

 As the person grew closer, their scent became clear and Geralt abruptly relaxed, face breaking out in an unrestrained grin as he leapt to his feet.  

 “It’s Eskel!”  He exclaimed, shooting Jaskier a delighted grin before bounding off into the woods.  

 Geralt tore through the underbrush making no attempt to hide his approach.  It wouldn’t do to surprise another witcher, though he had no doubt Eskel had already caught wind of them.  Within moments, Geralt caught sight of Eskel and jogged up to him, Eskel welcoming him with a strong embrace.  

 “Geralt!  What a pleasant surprise.”  Eskel said, grinning down at Geralt.  Eskel had a few inches on Geralt in all directions, bulky where Geralt was lean. His dark hair was cut short and a thick, ropy scar cut across his handsome face from his right ear to the corner of his mouth.  His tattoo was exposed below the elbow under his rolled-up sleeves, thick Dominant mark on full display within the intricate design.  He was leading a black mare laden with his packs, a calm look in her intelligent eyes.

 “Eskel, it’s good to see you.”  Geralt said happily, nudging his head under Eskel’s chin, greeting him as a brother.  “You look well.  What are you doing this far north?”  Eskel usually stayed in the Southern Kingdoms outside of winter, so it was unusual to run into his brother this far into the Northern Kingdoms’ realm.

 Eskel ruffled Geralt’s hair affectionately before wrapping an arm around his shoulders as they started walking back toward the camp.  “I received word of a valuable contract for a harpy nest in Gors Velen from one of my recent contractors.  I was already near the coast, albeit much farther South, so I decided to take a detour from my usual haunts and get a break from the summer heat.”  He gave Geralt a rough, playful squeeze before releasing him.  “And you, Geralt?  What brings you here?”

 “Same contract, it seems.” Geralt frowned, looking down and away before continuing.  “I was slow hunting a kikimora swarm and got caught in a cave in. Took me two fucking weeks to recover. Jaskier wouldn’t let me hunt so he had to support us.”  Geralt’s shoulders tensed, anticipating Eskel’s reaction.  He knew he fucked up and he wouldn’t hide it from Eskel.

 Eskel stopped, gently grabbing Geralt’s shoulder and turning Geralt to face him.  He ran his hands up and down Geralt’s arms, scrutinizing him for injury.  “And are you well now?”

 Geralt nodded, still looking down.

 “I’m glad you’re all right, those swarms can be vicious.” Eskel dropped his head and bumped his forehead against Geralt’s.  “I bet you killed them with extreme prejudice.”

 A small smile forced its way onto Geralt’s face. It was hard to hold onto his self-flagellation in the face of Eskel’s good nature.  He always had been the steadiest and kindest of all of them. “Aye, crushed them all under a ton of rocks.”

 Eskel barked a laugh, releasing Geralt so they could continue walking, knocking his shoulder into Geralt’s and shoving him slightly off the path.  “They’re dead and you’re not, that’s all that matters.”

 They walked in comfortable silence until they reached the camp, Jaskier jumping to his feet when they appeared, smiling brightly.  He turned to Eskel, holding out his hand in open greeting.  “I’m Jaskier. You must be Eskel.  I’ve never seen Geralt so happy to see someone!”  

 Eskel took his hand, shaking it firmly.  “Well met, Jaskier.  I heard a lot about you over the winter.”

 “Did you now?”  Jaskier asked, eyeing Geralt, a pleased grin on his face.  Geralt looked pointedly away, admitting nothing.

 Jaskier grinned at him as he stepped back, gesturing to the pot and the stew bubbling over the fire.  “Please, join us.  Dinner is almost ready.”  

 Geralt took the reins from Eskel’s hand, waving him off to go sit down while he cared for the black mare, tying her to the line with Roach and Potato before removing her tack and dropping Eskel’s pack next to his.

 Jaskier tasted the stew and declared it done, pulling over the bowls he’d laid out earlier for their meal.  “Geralt, please grab another bowl while you’re there.” Geralt opened the right pack and pulled out their extra bowl and spoon, wordlessly handing them to Jaskier.

 Jaskier’s nose wrinkled as he caught sight of the deer blood still staining Geralt’s hands.  “Go wash that off before you eat.” Jaskier directed, raising an eyebrow when Geralt started to protest.  Geralt huffed but complied, heading off to the nearby stream to clean his hands before his meal.  

 Eskel watched the scene with a bemused smile, glad to see his first impression of Jaskier matched the stories Geralt had told over the winter at Kaer Morhen.  Eskel had never agreed with Vesemir’s approach to Geralt’s submissive nature, finding it cruel to deny him relief for so long, but he didn’t have a good alternative to suggest that wouldn’t put Geralt at risk given that there were too few witchers for a pair of them to travel together.  Witchers were feared and reviled enough as it was without giving potential attackers the idea to use a Dominant’s Voice to subdue a submissive witcher alone on the Path.  The outcome of such an attack would be horrifying, if not deadly.  But if Geralt had found himself a Dominant he could trust, and Jaskier certainly seemed a good man on first blush, Eskel would rest easier.

 “It seems you have me at a disadvantage.”  Jaskier said as he handed Eskel a full bowl of stew. “Geralt hasn’t told me anything about you beyond that you are a fellow witcher.”

 Eskel took the stew with a nod of thanks, glad to have a hot meal he didn’t have to hunt and cook himself.  “I’m not surprised, he’s not exactly the most forthcoming.”

 Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head fondly.  “For sure he isn’t.  So, tell me about yourself.  I would like to know more if you’re willing to share.”

 Eskel sat back with his stew, speaking in between bites of the soft, fresh meat and tender vegetables.  “Geralt and I were in the same training group at Kaer Morhen. We’re probably of an age, or close to it, though neither of us knows for sure how old we are exactly.”

 Jaskier gave a sympathetic frown at that, but didn’t question it, knowing most witchers were Child Surprises.  “We, along with Lambert, were among the few to survive the selection and the Trials.  Geralt and I learned everything together, even if I did have to save his ass more often than not when we ran the training courses together around the Keep.”  He said that last bit with a teasing grin on his face, hearing Geralt approach, pitching his voice to be sure Geralt caught every word.

 “You saved me?”  Geralt asked incredulously as he rejoined their circle around the fire, “have you lost your memory in your old age?”  Geralt took the bowl Jaskier handed him, sitting down across the fire from Eskel, next to Jaskier.  Jaskier just sat back and grinned, eating his dinner as he watched them bicker, delighted to see this more open side to his favorite witcher.

 “Well, maybe we saved each other.”  Eskel conceded, impish grin making his amber eyes dance with mirth.

 Geralt huffed indignantly, rolling his eyes, but turned his focus to his meal rather than continuing, embarrassed to be to the focus of the conversation.  “Tell me about the contract,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.

 Eskel followed his lead.  “It’s a harpy nest on the sea coast outside Gors Velen.  I heard there are over thirty individuals in the nest and that they’ve caused well over a dozen deaths among passing travelers and sailors.”

 Geralt frowned.  “Unusual to see thirty in a nest.”

 “Aye, I could use your help with this, if you’re willing.”

 Geralt looked up in surprise.  “You want to share the contract?”

 Eskel nodded.  “Thirty harpies on the sea cliffs doesn’t make for good odds and I’d rather not add myself to their list of victims.”  

 Geralt considered the offer for a moment before accepting.  “Makes sense. Your magic will be helpful too.  I fucking hate the ones that fly.”  

 Eskel chucked his spoon at him, his bowl empty, laughing as it bonked Geralt on the head.  “Yeah, you never were good at catching.”

 Geralt looked murderous, moving to place his bowl down and leap over the fire at Eskel, but Jaskier stopped him with a hand on his knee.  “Eat your dinner first, then you can fight with your brother.”  Geralt growled, but subsided, picking his bowl back up and finishing his meal, sulking.  Eskel watched in amazement at how easily Geralt listened to Jaskier.  He was certain now that Jaskier was Geralt’s Dominant.

 When Jaskier looked away, he chucked the spoon back at Eskel.  “I saw that.” Jaskier said, a note of warning in his tone.  “Don’t waste food by letting it get cold. Eat.”

 Geralt pulled a face, but settled, using Eskel’s thrown spoon to finish his serving and half of another before gathering the dishes and the pot and heading back to the stream to clean them while Jaskier banking the fire under the smoking rack for the night.  As Jaskier worked, Eskel retrieved his bedroll, setting it up beside Geralt’s and removing his armor, piling it next to his pack.  

 When Eskel was certain Geralt was out of earshot, he spoke to Jaskier.  “Thank you for taking care of him.”

 Jaskier looked up from the fire, startled. “Whatever do you mean?”

 “He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him since he started on his Path.  You’re good for him.  And I heard you kept him from hunting until he healed from his injuries, something I’ve never managed to do.”  Eskel bowed his head to Jaskier.  “You have my gratitude for your care of my brother.”

 Jaskier flushed from the praise, uncertain how to respond to Eskel’s open display of emotion.  “It is my pleasure to care for him.  He’s very dear to me.”  He finally said.  He looked up at Eskel, smile slightly pained.  “I only wish he’d let me do more.”

 Eskel knew that feeling well.  “Geralt has had to rely on himself all his life and he’s had to constantly hide himself from those who would hurt him.  Given who and what he is, that’s most of the world, unfortunately. It’s hard for him to accept help, it always has been.”  Eskel cocked his head, hearing Geralt approach.  “But I think you’re just the person to get through to him.  He deserves to be happy.”  

 “He does.”  Jaskier agreed, “and I’ll do whatever I can to make him so.”

 Eskel shushed him with a gesture, indicating Geralt had come back within earshot.  He knew Geralt would not thank them for talking about him behind his back, no matter how well meant their words.

 Geralt looked between the two of them suspiciously when he arrived back at the camp.  Scowling, but without evidence to make any accusations, he repacked the pot and dishes, removed his boots, and settled on his bedroll.  He glared at Eskel when he saw how he’d placed his bedroll between Geralt and the woods, protecting him by keeping him in the center of their camp with Jaskier on the other side of the campfire and Eskel at his back.  But he didn’t protest or move his bedroll, not wanting to draw attention to what Eskel had done and make Jaskier suspicious as to his motivations.  For all that he was glad to see Eskel again before winter, putting him in contact with Jaskier greatly increased the risk that Jaskier would discover his secret.

 With the chores done, the three men settled in for the night, soothed to sleep by the good food and the soft, ambient noise of the summer forest.

  -------------------------

  Two days after their reunion, Geralt and Eskel lay on a cliff edge overlooking the harpy nest off to their south, well downwind of the strategizing witchers.  Geralt had let Eskel pick up the contract – even on the rare occasion witchers worked together, they did not share that information with the Alderman and risk inviting doubt as to their abilities – while he settled the horses into the stables at the local inn.  Jaskier procured them two rooms, as the innkeeper did not allow more than two adults per room, and left it up to Geralt to decide with whom he would bunk for the night. Jaskier had made it clear either choice was perfectly fine with him.

 Jaskier was safely back at the inn having been sternly dissuaded by both witchers from following them on this hunt.  The risk that a harpy from the massive nest would catch sight of him and carry him off was far too high.  With such a large hoard expected, Geralt and Eskel would be hard-pressed to protect themselves, let alone Jaskier.  Mollified by Eskel’s promise to tell him about the hunt afterwards and spare no detail, Jaskier stayed behind, planning to spend the day and night entertaining the locals at the tavern below the inn.

 The harpy nest was almost two hours from Gors Velen on foot.  Neither Geralt nor Eskel was willing to risk their mount to the harpies’ appetite, so Roach and Eskel’s black mare, Ember, were safely back at the inn’s stable with Potato, the old gelding delighted to be in the company of two fine mares.  

 Upon reaching the coast, Geralt and Eskel had stayed well upwind of the nest, choosing a vantage point for surveillance before plotting their attack.  From their location, they could see the large cliffside cavern that was serving as the harpy’s nest.  It overlooked a natural harbor, giving the harpies plenty of prey from the marine animals and unwitting sailors who came to rest in the harbor’s protected waters. To further boost their yields, the main trading route between Nilfgaard and Novigrad ran along the coast, giving the harpy nest an ample supply of travelers on whom to prey.  According to the Alderman, the harpy nest had appeared two months ago and only grown from there.  The high contract price was funded by both Novigrad and Gors Velen in the interest of a quick resolution.

 “Seems the best angle is to approach from upwind and draw the nest away from the coast.”  Geralt said, pointing out a shallow depression along the coastline. “If we can get them down in there, we shouldn’t have too much trouble.”

 “Agreed.  And once we clear out the flyers, we can toss a couple bombs down into the cavern to draw out any stragglers before we climb down there to destroy the nest itself.” Eskel said, adding a selection of bombs from his pack to the pouch tied to his belt.

 Geralt did the same with his selection before loading his crossbow quiver and looping that onto his belt as well, priming the crossbow with a bolt and laying it gently on the grass as he downed two potions from his pack to bolster his abilities – Thunderbolt for attack power and Swallow for vitality.  

 Ready, he turned to Eskel.  “Your Signs are stronger, so if I draw them out to the depression, can you knock them down with Aard?  I’ll concentrate on taking them out once they’re grounded.”

 Eskel nodded, giving his armor buckles a final check and swallowing his own potions – Petri's Philter to increase the power of his Signs and Tawny Owl to increase his stamina and allow him to cast more Signs for longer.  Eskel was the most magically powerful of all the witchers and Geralt the most skilled with the blade, so it made sense to plan their attack to play to their strengths.

 “Ready?”  Eskel asked.

 “Ready.”  

 They slunk down the coastline, keeping low and out of sight in the scrub brush, careful to mind the play of the wind.  If it shifted, they would need to attack quickly to maintain the element of surprise.

 Fortunately for them, the wind cooperated and they were able to reach the harpies’ nest undetected.  While Eskel hid in the brush surrounding the small depression, Geralt darted between cover until he reached the harpy sentry situated on the far edge of the depression, facing out toward the ocean.  Silently, he slit her throat, letting her body drop soundlessly to the sea grass below.  He crept closer to the cliff’s edge, coming within sight of the second sentry posted on the cliffside itself.  He drew his crossbow, embedding the loaded bolt into the harpy’s eye before she could make a sound, killing her instantly.  Her body dropped hard into the mouth of the cave below, startling the nest and drawing the swarm out to investigate.

 After shooting the second sentry, Geralt had immediately retreated back to the planned battleground, positioning himself in the center of the depression.  He loaded another bolt in his crossbow, taking down the first harpy to come in range. Her sisters screamed, dive bombing him from all directions.  He managed to shoot only one more before they descending on him.  He switched to his silver sword, dropping the crossbow, the hybrid oil he’d rubbed into it lending him extra power against the harpies.

 When most of the swarm was within the depression, Eskel burst out of the scrub brush, casting a powerful Aard sign that blew the harpies out of the air.  His control was such that he was able to cast the Sign just above Geralt’s head, close enough that he felt the wind from the air displaced by the powerful blow without being affected by it.  Harpies fell along around Geralt, stunned by the blast from Aard.  Geralt quickly jumped into action, fitting his silver blade through the ribs of each fallen harpy and piercing her heart, Eskel doing the same behind him.

 There were too many for them to dispatch before the stun wore off, and the surviving harpies, still at least fifteen, rose quickly back into the air, screaming and brandishing their long talons and sharp wings as they dove down around the two witchers.  

 Eskel and Geralt stood back to back, rotating as one so Eskel could knock the harpies down and Geralt could end their lives with a swift killing blow.  They moved as if dancing, certain of the other’s steps without needing to look, a deadly whirl of magic and sharp silver.

 Finally, the assault ceased.  Eskel dropped his hands and Geralt let the point of his blade brush the ground.  Both panted from exertion, lungs bellowing.  As they caught their breath, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, they crept toward the cliff’s edge, cautiously peering over the side toward the cave below.  Harpies were crafty beasts and it was not beyond them to plot an ambush for their executioners.

 Seeing nothing, Geralt stood back, sword ready, as Eskel lay on his stomach and tossed a series of bombs down into the cave mouth. As they exploded, outraged shrieks echoed from below as seven more harpies burst through the smoke and slammed into Geralt, bypassing the prostrate Eskel.  They surrounded him on all sides, too low for Eskel to safely blast off with Aard and too close for Geralt to have time to cast any Signs of his own.  

 Eskel saw Geralt’s silver blade flash as a harpy’s body dropped back, blood spurting from her slashed neck.  He leapt into the fray, his own sword taking the head off one harpy and the wing off another as he reached Geralt’s side, positioning them back to back again.  From there, Eskel could safely cast Aard to throw the remaining four harpies out of the air, Geralt dealing a killing blow to each as Eskel watched for more, dispatching the one harpy who had fallen at his feet.  

 A slash from a talon cut across Geralt’s upper left arm, slowly dripping blood.  Eskel gestured at it.  “Serious?”

 Geralt glanced down, grimacing at the injury caused by his carelessness.  “No, just a scratch.”

 Eskel nodded, trusting Geralt to let him know if his fighting abilities were impaired.  Geralt may be dismissive of his own needs, but he wouldn’t put Eskel at risk by hiding any impediment to his usual prowess.

 Together, they crept again toward the cliff edge and repeated the bomb tactic.  This time, no harpies appeared.  They waited again, listening hard.  Silence.

 One by one, starting with Eskel, they climbed down the cliff edge, dropping in the mouth of the cave.  Each downed a Cat for visibility in the dark, the toxicity making their matched eyes go completely black.  Eyesight boosted, they slowly worked their way through the cave, swords at the ready.   They found the nest at the back of the relatively shallow cave system, human bones thick on the floor and blood splattered on the walls, but, thankfully, no more harpies.  They dispatched the nest with a pair of grapeshot bombs and cast Igni to destroy it completely.  It would do no good to clear out the occupants while leaving a perfect home ready to attract the next nest of harpies.  

 With a last check around the cave, they climbed back up to the top of the cliff and set about harvesting the corpses, collecting valuable alchemy ingredients and taking the tongue of each harpy as a trophy to prove the hunt complete.  By the time they were done, they counted forty-seven harpies.  

 “I’ve never seen so many in one nest.”  Eskel commented as they walked back to gather their packs from their surveillance post.  “We’ll have to update the beastiary at Kaer Morhen and tell Vesemir about this over the winter.  We don’t want Lambert or any of the other witchers surprised by the size of a nest.”

 Eskel reached out and ruffled Geralt’s hair as they walked.  “Without you here too, I doubt I would have survived this.  Thank you.”

 Geralt looked up at him from under Eskel’s hand before shoving it off.  “You would’ve been fine.  You’re practically a mage with all that power.”  Geralt tried to ignore the throbbing in his left arm.  He was the one who got careless and let a harpy cut him. Jaskier would fuss now when they returned, focusing on him when he should be free to play and enjoy the company of other softer, better submissives who deserved his careful attentions for the evening.

 Eskel elbowed him, shoving him over to the left. “I know you, Geralt.  I can practically hear you berating yourself for that cut.”  Geralt looked away but didn’t respond.  “The only reason I was able to cast so effectively was because you drew them off. It’s my fault you got swarmed and that harpy had a chance to slash you – I should have been better prepared to cast them down when they came over the cliff edge.”

 Geralt looked up at that, protesting immediately. “But you had to lean over the cliff to throw the bombs, you couldn’t have gotten up any faster.”

 “And you were ready for them so you can’t be blamed for one harpy in seven getting in a lucky hit when you were swarmed.  I’m only glad you weren’t seriously hurt.” Eskel said, drawing Geralt close with an arm around his shoulders, careful not to brush the long scrape.

 Geralt huffed, but let it drop as they reached the spot where they’d left their packs, knowing Eskel would never see his failure clearly.  He was far too fond of Geralt for that, for reasons Geralt would never understand. As they started the long walk back to Gors Velen, trophies in hand, Geralt could only hope that Jaskier would be too distracted – by the crowd, by a pretty submissive, or by Eskel’s company – to notice Geralt’s wound.

  --------------------

  Geralt’s wish was granted.  By the time they returned to Gors Velen and Eskel traded the trophies for the contract price with the unusually grateful Alderman, Jaskier had finished his performance and had left word with the innkeeper for them that he had already retired to bed.  The innkeeper implied he’d retired alone, but Geralt doubted it.  Jaskier was a rare type of Dominant and he attracted favorable, well-deserved attention wherever he went.  Geralt pushed down the pang of jealously that thought caused.  He should be grateful for Jaskier’s company.  He would never, could never, have the right to even hope for more.

 Using his unwillingness to wake Jaskier this late as a cover for his real reasons – not wanting to cause Jaskier undue upset over his injury or risk seeing another submissive in his bed – Geralt followed Eskel back to his room, grateful he’d thought ahead to leave his packs in there for after the hunt.

 When they reached the small room, they saw Jaskier must have arranged for a bath for them before he retired.  A small, wooden tub sat before the fire, half-filled with cool water, with a large cauldron over the fire full of hot water waiting to be used. Between the two of them, they easily lifted the cauldron and filled the bath completely.  Eskel cast a controlled Igni to add a little more heat, satisfied when the water was just shy of scalding.

 Geralt gestured for Eskel to take the first bath and Eskel didn’t argue, stripping off his armor and settling back into the steaming water.  Geralt tossed the wash cloth at his head from behind before carefully placing the wash basin with the soap fragment next to the tub.  Soap was too precious to risk wasting.

 Eskel, unlike Geralt, didn’t enjoy long soaks, so he quickly scrubbed himself down while Geralt removed and cleaned his own armor. Finished, he dried off and left the bath to Geralt before turning his attention to cleaning and oiling his gear.

 Geralt stripped, dropping his dirty clothes with Eskel’s beside the tub to wash later, sinking into the steaming water with a satisfied groan, closing his eyes and letting his head rest on the back edge of the tub.

 “Hedonist.”  Eskel teased, grinning over at Geralt.

 Geralt made an obscene gesture at him without opening his eyes, comfortable letting his guard down under the watchful protection of his brother.  Eskel wouldn’t let anything happen to him while he bathed.  Not that Jaskier would either, but Jaskier was unpredictable in other ways.  He might decide to try helping Geralt with his hair or offer to scrub his back, things Geralt wanted almost as strongly as he rejected those offers.  Eskel knew better than to offer things Geralt shouldn’t have.

 Eventually, the water cooled and Geralt finished his bath, cleaning himself thoroughly to remove the characteristic stink of harpy, paying careful attention to the slash down his left arm.  It wasn’t deep and would heal well on its own as long as made sure to clean it properly.  

 Finished, he stepped out of the bath, dried off, and dropped his and Eskel’s dirty clothes in the bath, scrubbing at any stubborn stains before leaving them to soak.

 He redressed in his spare outfit, pulling on only the loose pants and linen shirt for now, finger combing his long hair before leaving it to air dry.  Once he was dressed, he removed the laundry from the bath and started to wring out the clothes, Eskel joining him to help.  They hung the wet clothes on the line by the fire, kindly provided by the innkeeper.  It was a familiar routine for them, sharing baths and chores in a small room by the fire, much like their housing at Kaer Morhen.  While the Keep had a laundry for the larger items, each trainee was expected to wash, mend, and maintain his own clothing and armor.  As Eskel and Geralt had been roommates, they frequently shared these chores, with Geralt taking on the mending and Eskel the bulk of the washing, as was their preference.

 Tasks complete, Eskel grabbed a small book from his pack, a precious resource for one who loved to read as much as he, and settled on the edge of the bed to read by the candlelight.  Geralt went to check on Jaskier and, hearing nothing but his soft breathing through the door, returned to Eskel’s room for the night.  Jaskier was safe and Geralt would not disturb his rest.

 Exhaustion pulled at Geralt, both from the fight and from the strain of nearly six months without a drop.  Soothed by his brother’s easy, familiar presence, Geralt let some of his usual control slip, allowing a soft expression to come to his face, limbs loose and gait relaxed.  Seeing Eskel sitting on the side of the bed in that familiar reading pose, Geralt joined him as he had many times in their youth, sinking to his knees beside his brother and resting his head on Eskel’s thigh.  Warmth immediately flooded him as the first tendrils of subspace cossetted him, easing the ache of long deprivation.

 Eskel placed a gentle hand on his head, seeing the vaguely unfocused look in Geralt’s eyes.  “You shouldn’t do that here, Geralt.”  He said softly, looking down on his brother with only kindness in his amber gaze.

 Geralt felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him.  Pulled roughly from his relaxed drift, his heartrate skyrocketed as a cold weight settled in his chest.  He shoved himself back and away from Eskel, sprawling on the floor and staring up at him, stricken.  He should have controlled himself better.  He shouldn’t have put Eskel in the position to need to remind him of his place.  Shame washed over him and his vision blackened at the edges from the rapid drop.

 Eskel looked startled by the violent reaction, immediately reaching out to Geralt to soothe him, but Geralt flinched away. “Easy, Geralt.” He said, attempting to calm him. “I’ll get Jaskier for you and all will be well.”

 Geralt looked up at him in anguished confusion. Why the fuck would he get Jaskier? If Jaskier saw him like this, he might suspect the truth and then Geralt could never travel with him again. Geralt shook his head vehemently, incapable of speech, reaching out to stop Eskel.

 Eskel turned back from the door and crouched in front of Geralt, lowering his head to force Geralt to meet his eyes.  “You don’t want me to get Jaskier?”  He asked in disbelief.  He couldn’t understand why Geralt wouldn’t want his Dominant to help him.

 Geralt shook his head, panic joining the shame and making his breathing come in short, quick pants, his pupils blown.

 “All right, I won’t get him.”  Eskel reassured, horrified with himself for having forced Geralt into such a violent subdrop.  He had the sinking feeling he had read Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship all wrong and hurt Geralt as a result.

 Eskel added a hint of his Dominant Voice into his speech in an attempt to help Geralt get his breathing back under control by speaking directly to his subconscious.  “Match my breathing now, Geralt.  In and out, nice and easy.”

 Geralt responded to Eskel’s familiar Voice through his panic and the cold haze caused by the subdrop, doing his best to match Eskel’s breathing.  Eskel slowly, carefully reached out and took Geralt’s hand, holding it onto his chest to help Geralt feel the even rhythm of his breath, praising him for each deeper breath he took.  After what felt like an age, Geralt’s breathing steadied, matching Eskel’s example.

 With his breathing under control again, Eskel encouraged Geralt to move from the floor to the bed, positioning them so they sat side by side, backs resting against the wall, Geralt’s head cushioned on Eskel’s shoulder.  They had spent many nights together like that as children while they recovered from the brutal abuses heaped upon their young bodies in the Trials.  The familiar pose comforted them both.

 When Eskel felt Geralt stop shaking and slump fully onto his shoulder, exhausted by the drop, he spoke.  “Jaskier isn’t your Dom, is he?”

 Geralt shook his head, speech still beyond him.  He knew he should move, that he shouldn’t lean on Eskel like this, but he couldn’t find the strength.  The cold feeling in his chest made his bones ache from the shame of his weakness, at how he’d given in to his base instincts at the first opportunity, forcing Eskel to take care of him instead of waiting for his scheduled drop like he knew he should.

 Eskel closed his eyes, internally berating himself for making assumptions.  “Forgive me, Geralt.  I shouldn’t have assumed.  I should have trusted you to know what you need and asked you about Jaskier before correcting you without cause.”

 Geralt forced himself to speak, sitting up and moving away from Eskel’s warm hold, unwilling to let him blame himself for Geralt’s failings.

 “No, I shouldn’t have done that.  Vesemir taught me better.”

 Eskel’s expression was pained.  “I’m not sure Vesemir is right.  If there’s a trustworthy Dom who can help you during the year, there’s no reason you should have to suffer like this.”

 Geralt shook his head, turning away from Eskel and his words.

 Eskel persisted.  “From what I’ve seen of him and how much he cares for you, I’m sure Jaskier can be trusted with this.  I can’t imagine he would betray you.”  Eskel said gently.

 “It’s not that.”  Geralt said to the wall.

 “Then what is it?”

 “It’s not his duty to take care of me.”  Geralt said flatly.

 Eskel frowned.  “But what if he wants to?”

 Geralt curled in on himself, misery pouring off him in waves.  “I can’t do that to him.  He would feel obliged to take care of me if he knew, but he deserves better.  He deserves a real submissive who’s soft and gentle and everything I’m not.  A house on a hill with a family, a dog, servants, the whole deal.  Not walking the Path with me.”

 Eskel’s heart ached for his brother.  He had seen how the trainers’ actions, how Vesemir’s scheduled drops, had changed Geralt over the past decades.  He’d been a bright, happy child, even throughout their training.  But the strain of nearly a century of deprivation and the brutal, clinical drops Vesemir imposed on him to save his sanity had hardened him, convinced him that there was little more to life than pain and duty.  That meeting his biological needs was a burden imposed upon Vesemir because no one else would deign to help him.  Eskel suspected there was little, if any, aftercare provided in those sessions, leaving Geralt to suffer through a harsh subdrop alone each time. Eskel knew Vesemir did it out of care for Geralt in his own way, that he was calling on practices he’d learned as a young Dominant nearly four hundred years ago, but all the good intentions in the world didn’t spare Geralt the consequences.

 “You should tell him.  Let Jaskier make his own decision about what he wants from his life.” Eskel said finally, knowing it was futile to try and convince Geralt of his own worth.  Or that Vesemir might have been wrong when he decided how Geralt’s submissive side should be handled.

 “No!”  Geralt said sharply, turning a harsh glare on Eskel.  “And don’t you dare tell him either.”  

 Eskel held up his hands, appeasing.  “I wouldn’t do that without your permission and you know it.” Eskel grinned, trying to lighten the mood.  “After all, I still haven’t told Vesemir it was you who put the blackberry juice in his hair oil that one time.”

 Geralt snorted a laugh in spite of himself at the memory of Vesemir’s purple striped hair.  It had taken weeks for the color to fade.  His expression relaxed and he leaned back against Eskel’s shoulder.

 “I’m glad we ran into you, Eskel.”  Geralt said, changing the subject.  “Where will you go next?”

 Eskel followed Geralt’s lead, sitting back and crossing his ankles, enjoying the warmth of his brother at his side. “Probably back south again. There’s plenty of work with all the unrest down in Nilfgaard.  What about you?”

 “Novigrad for now.  Unless I hear of another contract along the way.”

 “And then you’ll work your way back north?”  

 Geralt hummed in agreement.

 “I’ll work my way back east and then start to head north by mid-autumn.  I don’t want to get caught out by a blizzard on the way back to Kaer Morhen like I did last year.” Eskel said, grimacing at the memory.

 Geralt elbowed him, grinning.  “Yeah, you came in looking like a drowned rat.”

 “Oh, shut up.” Eskel said, shoving him lightly away. “Like it’s never happened to you before.”

 They grinned at each other before relaxing again, enjoying the easy, fraternal companionship as they sat side by side, staring into the fire.  Eskel finally broke the silence.  “Best we get some rest before morning.”  He said, moving to lie flat and pulling the blankets up over himself.  Geralt mirrored him, settling down on the other side of the modestly-sized bed.  Eskel extinguished the flame in the candle before casting a controlled Igni to stabilize the banked fire for the night.

 “Show off.”  Geralt muttered.

 “You know it.”  Eskel teased back.

 They lay quietly together until they drifted off to sleep, curled toward each other under the warm blankets just as they had done when they were children.

 -----------------------------

 The next morning, after Eskel gave Jaskier all the details of their hunt over breakfast, they parted company, Jaskier and Geralt heading north toward Novigrad and Eskel heading back south toward Nilfgaard. They stood at the crossroads outside town, each man holding his own horse.

 Geralt and Eskel embraced, pounding each other on the back, Geralt briefly pushing his head up under Eskel’s chin in a brotherly farewell.

 “Think about telling him.  I think you’ll be surprised by how well it goes.”  Eskel whispered in Geralt’s ear before they broke apart. Geralt frowned at him, shaking his head, glad Jaskier couldn’t see his face.

 “Don’t get dead out there.” Geralt said to Eskel. “Walk your Path with honor.”  

 Eskel nodded.  “May your Path be smooth and may your sword strike true.” Eskel said, completing the traditional parting words.

 Eskel turned to Jaskier, pulling him into a rough embrace as well.  Jaskier was surprised at the open affection – he was used to Geralt’s far greater reserve – but he returned the embrace easily.  Eskel was a cheerful, kind soul and Jaskier had come to like him in their short time together.  Hopefully, they would see each other again one day.

 “Take care of this idiot.”  Eskel said, stepping back toward his horse.  

 Jaskier laughed at seeing Geralt roll his eyes. “I’ll try my best!”

 Eskel locked eyes with Jaskier for a moment, the sudden seriousness of his gaze belying his light tone.  Jaskier briefly bowed his head, message received.  He would do his best to care for Geralt in his brother’s place.

 Jaskier sensed there was more going on here than he knew, but he wasn’t sure what yet.  He had his suspicions given Eskel’s protectiveness over Geralt and the fact that Eskel’s tattoo proudly showed off his Dominant’s stripe whereas Geralt’s intricate pattern covered his whole arm, wholly obscuring his mark.  He had seen how Geralt briefly nuzzled under Eskel’s chin too, though he drew no attention to it at the time.  It was common gesture of greeting or farewell among family members, but typically done between submissives and Dominants, with only the rare neutral extending a Dominant relative that same affectionate courtesy. Jaskier didn’t know enough about witcher customs to know if that held true for them, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Geralt, but he filed the observation away in his mind to analyze when future, contextualizing evidence presented itself.

 With a final wave, Eskel turned south, mounting his black mare and directing her down the main road.  Jaskier and Geralt mounted as well, Potato and Roach happily walking side by side north toward Novigrad.  

 “I hope we run into him again.”  Jaskier said after a moment, looking back at Eskel’s retreating figure.

 “Hm, not likely.  He usually stays in the Southern Kingdoms until he needs to head north for the winter.”

 “Do you each have your own region to patrol?”  Jaskier asked curiously.

 “In a sense.  We each chose the regions we prefer.  With so few of us left, it made sense to break the Continent up and spread our services.”  Geralt answered.

 Jaskier was pleased at the open response and decided to see if he could encourage Geralt to share a bit more while his good mood lasted. “Who patrols each region?”

 Geralt glanced over at him, assessing.  Jaskier kept his gaze open and curious. Satisfied Jaskier’s question was simply as it appeared, he answered. “I stay more toward the western part of the Northern Kingdoms.  Eskel patrols the Southern Kingdoms, as I said, and Vesemir does as well, though he tends to go only in response to a particular contract rather than as a general patrol given his age.  Lambert patrols the eastern side of the Northern Kingdoms.”

 “What’s Lambert like?” Jaskier asked, having caught the oddly painful weight given to Vesemir’s name in Geralt’s response and deciding not to poke at a potential sore spot.

 “He’s an asshole. Arrogant, loud, never shuts up.” Geralt’s tone took on a teasing edge. “You’d probably get along.”

 Jaskier gasped in mock offense.  “You take that back!”

 Geralt grinned at him before spurring Roach into a gallop.  “Make me!” He shouted back.  

 Jaskier urged Potato to follow, knowing the older gelding would never catch the fleet-footed mare, the two horses’ hooves pounding into the dirt as they raced northward to Novigrad.

@thesunshinemanman

@humbae

#kirk-spock-in-the-impala writes #follow you down #chapter 3 #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #sub!geralt #dom!jaskier #gerlion #jaskier #fic

[faces-of-7th-art]

#Catherine Deneuve Portrait

Cannes 1984 

Contax RTS  Carl Zeiss T* Tessar 200mm f/3,5 Agfapan 100

Catherine Fabienne Dorléac (born 22 October 1943), known professionally as Catherine Deneuve , is a French actress as well as an occasional singer, model and producer, considered one of the best European actresses and the greatest French actress of all time.. She gained recognition for her portrayal of icy, aloof and mysterious beauties for various directors, including Luis Buñuel, François Truffaut and Roman Polanski. In 1985, she succeeded Mireille Mathieu as the official face of Marianne, France's national symbol of liberty. A 14-time César Award nominee, she won for her performances in Truffaut's The Last Metro (1980), for which she also won the David di Donatello for Best Foreign Actress, and Régis Wargnier's Indochine (1992).

Deneuve made her film debut in 1957 and first came to prominence in Jacques Demy's 1964 musical The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. She went on to star in such films as Repulsion (1965), Donkey Skin (1970), Belle de Jour (1967), Tristana (1970) and The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) opposite her sister, the actress Françoise Dorléac. She was nominated for the BAFTA Award for Best Actress for Belle de Jour, and the Academy Award for Best Actress for Indochine. She also won the 1998 Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival for Place Vendôme. Other notable English-language films include The April Fools (1969), Hustle (1975), The Hunger (1983) and Dancer in the Dark (2000).

Deneuve was born Catherine Fabienne Dorléac in Paris, the daughter of French stage actors Maurice Dorléac (1901–1979) and Renée Simonot (b. 1911). Deneuve has two sisters, Françoise Dorléac (1942–1967) and Sylvie Dorléac (born 14 December 1946), as well as a maternal half-sister, Danielle, whom their mother had out of wedlock in 1937 with Aimé Clariond, but who was later adopted by Maurice and took his surname. Deneuve was her mother's maiden name, which she chose for her stage name, in order to differentiate herself from her sisters. Deneuve attended Catholic schools .

Deneuve made her film debut with a small role in André Hunebelle's Les Collégiennes (1957) with her younger sister Sylvie Dorléac who, like their older half-sister Danielle, was an occasional child actress. She subsequently appeared in several films for director Roger Vadim as well as in L'Homme à femmes (1960), which caught the eye of Jacques Demy, who cast Deneuve in his 1964 musical Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, the film that brought her to stardom. Deneuve played the cold but erotic persona, for which she would be nicknamed the "ice maiden", in Roman Polanski's horror classic Repulsion (1965), reinforcing it in Luis Buñuel's Belle de Jour (1967), and reaching a peak in Tristana (1970).Her work for Buñuel would be her most famous .

Further prominent films from this early time in her career included Jean-Paul Rappeneau's A Matter of Resistance (1966), Demy's musical Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (1967) and François Truffaut's romantic thriller Mississippi Mermaid (1969). Deneuve remained active in European films during the 1960s and 1970s, though she limited her appearances in American films of the period to The April Fools (1969), a romantic comedy with Jack Lemmon, and Hustle (1975), a crime drama with Burt Reynolds. Her starring roles at the time were featured in such films as A Slightly Pregnant Man (1973) with Marcello Mastroianni and Le Sauvage (1975) with Yves Montand.

In the 1980s, Deneuve's films included François Truffaut's Le Dernier métro (1980), for which she won the César Award for Best Actress, and Tony Scott's The Hunger (1983) as a bisexual vampire, co-starring with David Bowie and Susan Sarandon, a role which brought her a significant lesbian and cult following, mostly among the gothic subculture. She made her debut film as a producer in 1988, Drôle d'endroit pour une rencontre, alongside frequent co-star Gerard Depardieu.

In the early 1990s, Deneuve's more significant roles included 1992's Indochine opposite Vincent Perez, for which she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress and won a second César Award for Best Actress; and André Téchiné's two movies, Ma saison préférée (1993) and Les Voleurs (1996). In 1997, Deneuve was the protagonist in the music video for the song N'Oubliez Jamais sung by Joe Cocker. In 1998 she won acclaim and the Volpi Cup at the Venice Film Festival for her performance in Place Vendôme. In the late 1990s, Deneuve continued to appear in a large number of films such as 1999's five films Est-Ouest, Le temps retrouvé, Pola X, Belle maman, and Le Vent de la nuit.

In 2000, Deneuve's part in Lars von Trier's musical drama Dancer in the Dark alongside Icelandic singer Björk was subject to considerable critical scrutiny. The film was selected for the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival. She made another foray into Hollywood the following year, starring in The Musketeer (2001) for Peter Hyams. In 2002, she shared the Silver Bear Award for Best Ensemble Cast at the Berlin International Film Festival for her performance in 8 Women. In 2005, Deneuve published her diary A l'ombre de moi-meme ("In My Own Shadow", published in English as Close Up and Personal: The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve); in it she writes about her experiences shooting the films Indochine and Dancer in the Dark. She also provided the voice role of Marjane Satrapi's mother in Satrapi's animated autobiographical film Persepolis (2007), based on the graphic novel of the same name. In 2008, she appeared in her 100th film, Un conte de Noël.

Deneuve's recent work includes Potiche (2010) with frequent co-star Depardieu, Beloved (2011), alongside former co-stars Ludivine Sagnier and Chiara Mastroianni, the popular French adventure comedy Asterix and Obelix: God Save Britannia (2012) with Gerard Depardieu and Valérie Lemercier, screenwriter and director Emmanuelle Bercot's On My Way (2013), Palme D'or winning writer/director Pierre Salvadori's comedy drama In the Courtyard (2014), and André Téchiné's drama In the Name of My Daughter (2014). In 2017, she co-starred alongside Catherine Frot, in writer/director Martin Provost's French drama The Midwife, which has been acquired by Music Box Films for a summer 2017 distribution in the United States.

Deneuve appeared nude in two Playboy pictorials in 1963 and 1965. Her image was used to represent Marianne, the national symbol of France, from 1985 to 1989.[citation needed] As the face of Chanel No. 5 in the late 1970s, she caused sales of the perfume to soar in the United States – so much so that the American press, captivated by her charm, nominated her as the world's most elegant woman. In 1983, American Home Products retained her to represent their cosmetics line and hired world-renowned photographer Richard Avedon to promote its line of Youth Garde cosmetics, for which she famously proclaimed, "Look closely. Next year I will be 40."

She is considered the muse of designer Yves Saint Laurent; he dressed her in the films, Belle de Jour, La Chamade, La sirène du Mississipi, Un flic, Liza and The Hunger. In 1992, she became a model for his skincare line. In 2001, she was chosen as the new face of L'Oréal Paris. In 2006, Deneuve became the third inspiration for the M•A•C Beauty Icon series and collaborated on the colour collection that became available at M•A•C locations worldwide in February that year. Deneuve began appearing in the new Louis Vuitton luggage advertisements in 2007. Deneuve was listed as one of the fifty best-dressed over 50s by the Guardian in March 2013. In July 2017, Deneuve appeared in a video campaign for Louis Vuitton entitled Connected Journeys, celebrating the launch of the brand's Tambour Horizon smartwatch, which also featured celebrities, including Jennifer Connelly, Bae Doona, Jaden Smith and Miranda Kerr.

In 1986, Deneuve introduced her own perfume, Deneuve. She is also a designer of glasses, shoes, jewelry and greeting cards

Deneuve speaks fluent French, Italian and English and has some knowledge of Spanish, though she does not speak the language fluently. Her hobbies and passions include gardening, drawing, photography, reading, music, cinema, fashion, antiques and decoration.

Deneuve has been married once, to photographer David Bailey from 1965 to 1972. She has lived with director Roger Vadim, actor Marcello Mastroianni,cinematographer Hugh Johnson, Spanish model and current television presenter Carlos Lozano, and Canal+ tycoon Pierre Lescure.

Deneuve has two children: actor Christian Vadim, from her relationship with Roger Vadim, and actress Chiara Mastroianni, from her relationship with Marcello Mastroianni. She has five grandchildren.

Deneuve is close friends with the artist Nall and owns some of his works.

On 6 November 2019, BBC News reported that Deneuve suffered a mild stroke and was recuperating in a Paris hospital. Despite the health scare, there was no damage to her motor functions. Five weeks later, she was released from the hospital and spent the remainder of 2019 recuperating at her Paris home.

#catherine deneuve #portrait #portrait photography #famous actress #celebrity #black and white #beauty #french cinema #film star #movies star #beautiful #attractive #analog camera #film #cannes #film festival

[noonachronicles]

Everlong Pt. 4

Kwon Jiyong/ G Dragon X Reader

Word count: 6k

Warnings: mild language, discussions/themes of death, mentions of infidelity. 

Genre: Hades/Jiyong. Greek God AU. Fantasy. 

A/N: I took extra care with this one because it’s important. I feel like it’s the part where the actual plot comes into play and I hope everyone is excited as I am about it. :D

Update Tag: @kathrynwynterbourne (do you still want this? lol)

Moodboard by bae @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

The throne room in the Judgement Pavilion was truly a sight to behold. An architectural scholars wet dream, if only they knew it existed before they were dead. It was imposing to say the very least. A long room with magnificently high ceilings. Expertly peaked arches, and ribbed vaulting that lined the narrow length of the hall. Ivory columns stood like centurions at uniform intervals, every three yards. The walls were a dark rosewood. They looked black in the dim lighting of the room. It was difficult for anyone not looking for it to notice the fine details of the wood that had been carved to reflect the faces of the suffering souls that occupied the underworld. Some of the faces had their features scrunched in pain. Others were stretched long, mouths wide open, screaming in agony as waves of hellfire washed over their outreaching arms. Hades always found it a bit dramatic and not at all how he would represent his home, but everyone had said it fit the aesthetic of what was otherwise known as the Hall of Judgement. To break up the intricate and macabre details, panel windows of stained glass were inlaid along the walls. There was one window for each of the Titans, one for each of the Olympians, and several panels dedicated to some of the greater battles that occurred during the Titanomachy.

At the end of the long hall sat a single throne made of what looked like black onyx. Completely dominating the wall behind the throne was a marvelously large rose window that could rival those at some of the most famed cathedrals. It was easily done as Hades had immediate access to Louis Barillet who more than willingly designed the window in exchange for a spot in Elysium. 

The throne on its own was just as intimidating as the room as a whole, and purposefully so. The back was unnecessarily high. It’s highest peak reaching the bottom curve of the rose window. It’s crest rail had several horned peaks that were so aggressively pointed it looked like a person could be impaled on them. Even still, after all of that, the most threatening thing about the lone chair was often the god that sat upon its seat. This was especially the case on this particular day.

In the past, the judgement of souls had been the burden of three. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus. However, in an effort to make Persephone feel more involved, Hades relieved the trio of their responsibilities quite a long time ago. He’d taken over the important task alongside his wife. It had worked out well for awhile, until she had become disinterested and restless. Preferring to wander the underworld alone instead of staying seated next to him. Hades suspected she just disliked how much time they were spending together. It had been just him taking the brunt of the work for some time before she’d left him. And it was in fact she who left him, despite all of his strongest arguments. For so long he fought to keep her but eventually he just got tired and let her go like she’d always wanted and that was the truth of it. After she’d gone he overburdened himself with work, letting it mask the aching loneliness he felt. Everything had been going smoothly for such a long time, but then he found you.

As Hades sat lazily slumped on his throne, his notebook flipped open on one arm and his own arm hanging down from the other with his fingers loosely holding onto his scepter, he knew he had no one else to blame but himself. No one else to blame for the line of souls waiting for judgement that stretched the entire length of the throne room and then some. No one else to blame because he’d been the one neglecting his duties to spend time with you instead, causing a backlog of unjudged souls. What made things worse for everyone, was that he hadn’t seen you in days. It was nearing a full week since you’d been at the bakery and he had no other real way of contacting you. Every moment that passed without him being able to make you blush over something stupid or every moment that passed without you sassing him so much he wanted to flick your forehead, he became more and more irritable. Everyone could tell he wasn’t in his best mood even if they didn’t know the reason behind it.          

“Next!” Phobos called out as Hades drummed his fingers on the pages of his notebook impatiently.

He’d already sent five souls to Tartarus just for what he’d claimed was ‘speaking out of term’. Though he would argue in his own defense that they had been right on the cusp of being sent there anyway, so it wasn’t as harsh as people were making it out to be. Even still, Eris had become so uncomfortable that he had to leave the hall before his nerves turned into an actual anxiety attack. No one, not even the Personifications would look at or speak to Hades when he was like this. Only the poor souls that were there for judgement were forced to address him and they did so with an almost comedic amount of caution.

Good. He thought grumpily to himself as the next soul in line stepped forward.

“Name!” Phobos called out from his place just off to the side of the throne.

“Jiho.. Woo Jiho.” the man stuttered out. He’d had an air of confidence as he stepped forward but it faltered before the god, they always did.

Hades brow furrowed, the name sounded familiar but he didn’t know why. He flipped the page of his notebook and the page started to fill up with information about the soul before him.

Woo Jiho, twenty-eight. Date of birth, September fourteenth. Date of death, April seventh.

Hades was almost positive he’d read this page before, but had no idea why he ever would have. He thought perhaps he’d been one of the customers in the bakery that he’d recently played his game with. It would be quite the coincidence but he couldn’t think of another reason. He browsed through the list of things Jiho had done in his lifetime.

Petty thievery starting as a child. Money from his mother's wallet, age seven. Candy from a convenience store, age nine.

Common. Boring.  Hades thought to himself. Perhaps that it was why he’d seemed so familiar, he was just like everyone else. He moved his eyes down the page and he let out a long sigh.  Things did get a little more interesting as he got older.

One hundred and eighty-seven acts of infidelity between the ages of sixteen and twenty-eight, most of which were committed against his current partner.

Poor soul, he thought to himself before moving on.

Ten different instances of assault, mostly bar fights but once was against a woman when he was eighteen. There were several instances of blackmail, bribery, and extortion. The list of lies he had told in his lifetime between small white and bold faced was countless. Longer than most people who died at his age. Clearly a master manipulator. Under the list of things that he had done in his life that were considered as redemption there was barely anything. Hades made a half disgusted face and looked up at the man before him, already knowing his fate would be Tartarus, no question.

“What can I do for you, Jiho? Have you come for your judgement?” he asked idly.

“Actually...sir...god...Hades?” he tripped over every word. Hades would have found it much more funny if it didn’t happen nearly every time a soul had addressed him for millenniums, “I was told I could offer you a soul, in place of mine? That you had the power to resurrect my soul.”

“The second soul must be willing.” He said slowly stretching his legs out in front of him and sitting up straight. It had been some time since someone had propositioned him with an exchange. “You know you can’t just offer up someone else’s soul? It’s not how it works.”

“No, of course.” The desperate soul shook his head “There is someone I left back in life and I just know that she would do this for me. I know she would give you her soul in place of mine. No one has ever loved me like she does. I love her too, she’s so loyal, I just need to get to her…”

“I don’t care about your love story, just give me the name so we can find out if she’s willing.”

As he stuttered out the name of the soul he hoped would replace his in death Hades finally, and truly, looked at him. It had been your name that fell from his lips. Surely, he thought, this was a mistake. There had to be at least one other on earth who shared your name, and of course he must be talking about her. It could not possibly be you.

He flipped through his notebook until the pages reflected the name he was looking for. The page that showed your name and whose timeline was connected to Jiho. His heart began to race as his eyes flashed over the page. Age, location, life history. The page he’d read a hundred times already. He couldn’t deny it. It really was you. He gulped as he flipped back and forth between your page and Jiho’s, confirming the relation to each other. His breathing remained steady but it was clear he was upset. Phobos watched wide eyed with fear as Hades whole chest lifted visibly with every heavy breath, subconsciously he leaned his body away from the god.

Hades face was calm and reposed, but his eyes were aflame with unspeakable anger as he looked back up at Jiho. “This woman, the one whose soul your offering me, is she perhaps the same woman that you’ve been unfaithful to, lied to, and had a hand in emotionally abusing for years?”

“Woah, no! I have never laid a hand on her like that. I’m not like that!” he denied vehemently.

Hades sighed with immediate annoyance, his hands vibrating with anger, “That would constitute as physical abuse where I had said emotiontionally, you... moron. And before you deny having done that as well, you should now that I do have a record of every instance of your emotional abuse and manipulation of this woman. Not to mention your counts of infidelity, lies, et cetera.”

“Everyone manipulates people to get what they need and want. That’s just the way the world works. I didn’t do anything that any of these other souls haven’t done.” Jiho argued gesturing to the line behind him.

“Wrong.” Hades lifted his open notebook towards Jiho, “All this girl has ever done is trust you, and try to do right by you. And still you would deny her a future so that you could prolong your own.”

“I mean, I guess so, but she doesn’t know all that stuff that I did! She would definitely be willing to give up her soul for mine and isn’t that what matters anyway? What do you care about morality?”

“Just so we are being clear, even in death, you would manipulate this soul into offering up her life for you just to be set free? I want you to look me in the eyes, not just past my shoulder, which is a cowards trick. And I want you to say to me, very clearly, that you upon her willingness, are offering me this soul in place of yours for all eternity.”

“Well...yeah. She just has to be willing, right? I know she will be, I won’t even have to really do anything.” He said more to himself than anything. He squared his shoulders and looked up at Hades, “I, upon her willingness, offer you this soul in place of mine for all of eternity.”

“As you wish then. Go back to holding and wait for my summons. I will go and retrieve the soul tomorrow. I will bring her back here where you will explain to her the exchange you have propositioned me with. If she agrees, you may go free.” He said with a now barely contained rage. “If she doesn’t agree, then you will wish you’d never asked for the opportunity.”

As Hades watched Jiho get escorted back down the length of the hall and towards holding his nostrils flared and his hands gripped the arms of his throne so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His back was stiff and he sat forward on the seat as if he was preparing to attack the next thing that moved or spoke.

Deimos cleared his throat from beside the throne, “I can get the soul for you, Hades. It would be my pleasure to assist you.”

“If I wanted you to go, I would have asked you to go. Don’t you think?” Flames were flickering visibly in the darks of his eyes.

“It’s just that,” Hades whipped his head around to Phobos, who was already shaken before and looked, now, like he might truly cry from fear, “you’ve been ‘topside’ so much recently. Surely you wouldn’t want to waste your time on a task one of us could and would happily complete for you.”

“Oh, have I been ‘topside’ too much? Is that what everyone has been talking about while I’ve been away?” He asked looking around the room. There was nobody with the courage to look back at him. “Have you all been very concerned about my whereabouts? Are you all worried that I’ve not been here enough to do my job properly AS THE FUCKING GOD OF THE UNDERWORLD? Everyone here in such a rush to get to Tartarus?”

Many of the souls murmured at that but otherwise the throne room trembled with only the boom of his furious voice. Everyone who stood around him shook their heads in denial and a shaky chorus of “No, sir” rang out around him.

“Good, and now that we’ve cleared that up,” Hades took a long, deep breathe and then let his next words ooze with sarcasm, “I will happily judge this entire line of souls today, if it so pleases the court of Personification. And then tomorrow, I will go get the girl who holds the soul that has been promised to me, because I am Hades and this is still my domain. Does anyone hold issue with that?”

This time no one disagreed.

~

It had been an atypically quiet day at the bakery, which you’d been grateful for. A nice calm way to come back to work after what was essentially a week of laying around in your pajamas crying hysterically for any and every reason until your eyes burned red and the only relief you could find was through sleep. At least the funeral had been nice and you felt like you finally had a little closure which made things slightly more tolerable.

You placed an oversized mug filled with hot coffee and a matching plate with a muffin in the center down in front of a waiting customer who was sitting at one of the tables in front of the large window that opened to the street. When you looked out at the busy sidewalk you felt a spark in your chest as you laid eyes on the one person you’d hoped you’d see all day long.  

Jiyong looked expensive, as usual. Black on black on black on black outfit. From his black blazer to his shiny black wingtips. Sunglasses sat propped on his nose and his hair was slicked back. His undercut looked fresh, like he was just coming from the barber, and it reminded you of the first time he walked into the bakery. His lips were thick and pouty, making him look worried instead of his usual disinterested expression. He had one hand casually in the pocket of his dress pants, and the other was gripping a bouquet of flowers at his side.

You bit your lip, unsure if you should just assume that he’d gotten them for you. Maybe he made another friend over the last week, someone he liked a lot and wanted to give flowers too. The sweet feeling in your stomach turned sour at the idea. When you first saw him he was walking so casually confident towards the bakery. Once he finally got to the door, however, he paused as if he’d just thought about something. You watched curiously as he turned and walked back down the sidewalk a little ways. He tucked the flowers into the skeleton of what used to be a payphone. He nodded to himself and then turned back around making his way to the door once more. This time he got as far as having his fingers around the handle before he shook his head and anxiously turned back around, hurriedly lunging for the flowers before they were snatched up by a passerby.

Now incredibly amused by the show he didn’t realize he was putting on for you, you leaned against an unoccupied table and continued to enjoy. With the flowers back in his hand he looked down at them. It was clear to you that they were brand new, just purchased flowers, still in their plastic sleeve. It seemed he had thought about that too as you watched him tug the flowers out of the cellophane and stuffed the sleeve into the trash near the payphone. For the briefest moment you thought that was going to be it, that he was going to make his way inside for real. Instead he stepped towards the trash and began to pluck out all of the filler foliage, the baby's breath and the fern palms, and shoved them in the trash with the plastic sleeve. Finally it was just the flowers left in his fist. He looked down at them once more, very thoughtfully, and then slammed the bouquet against the side of the payphone for good measure. You bit down on your lip to keep from laughing too hard. Then your whole chest warmed at the realization that for the first time in a week you’d even had the urge to laugh at all.

“Hey stranger, what are you thinking about?” his voice snapped you out of your daze and you looked up at him with a small but very genuine smile.

“Hey, Ji.”

He beamed at the sound of his name on your lips again and shoved the flowers at you quite roughly. “I, uh, found these for you.”

Taking the bouquet from him you fingered one of the red gerberas that had nearly snapped from its stem after the collision with the payphone and was now just sort of dangling sadly.

“Found them,” you asked skeptically, “or bought them?”

“Why would I buy you flowers? And hideous ones at that.” he asked as if it was the most insane thing you’d ever suggested to him.

“Hmm.” you smiled cheekily as you hummed, giving the flowers a sniff,  “Okay, so say you didn’t buy them. What you did do was see a bunch of flowers somewhere...on the ground or poking out of a trash can...wherever. You saw these flowers just waiting to be appreciated and snatched them up, and then thought to yourself with no hesitation, ‘I know exactly who I want to give these to’ and in that moment you thought only of me. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Give them back.” he said and held out his hand, “I think I saw a vagrant outside who I can give them to who would certainly be more grateful than you are.”

“No way!” you turned and hurried away from him to your safe, no customers allowed, space behind the counter. “They’re mine. You found them, just for me, remember?”

“You’re welcome.” he grinned.

“Thank you.” you smiled quite happily as you found a cup that you could put them in that wouldn’t tip over from the weight and filled it with water before dropping them in. “Would you like your usual rocket fuel?”

He leaned against the counter, “Yes, please.”  

“A treat? On me, as a real thank you for the flowers?” you asked.

“No, not today, thank you.”

As well as he was hiding it, he actually felt sick with nerves. He had to find a way to get you to go with him to the underworld but he wanted to gentle about it. It was the reason he was so adamant about being the one to bring you in the first place. Anyone else would have dragged you kicking and screaming, and he could never allow that. If he was being honest, he didn’t want to do it at all. Bringing you there meant ultimately having to explain to you who he was and he was positive that it wouldn’t go over very well. How could it? No matter what it would have to be done because he had been too thoughtless in his anger when he agreed to the deal with Jiho and he never went back on his word. He tried to think of this as a positive, at least you would finally see what a worthless worm your dead boyfriend was.

“Let’s go sit.” you said suddenly pulling him from his thoughts.

He nodded and followed you as you came around the counter. You nodded over to a table against the wall, sitting beneath the painting of Posiedon. You placed his cup in front of one chair and sat down in the other with a deeply exhausted sigh.

“You haven’t been around for a few days. I’ve...missed you.” Jiyong said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. He graced you with a small smile and it really did warm you to see it. “The guy whose been making my drinks for me doesn’t even make fun of me like you do.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, I had to take some personal days. My boyfriend…” you froze. It happened like that, and often, in an instant you could be teetering on a breakdown. You sat quietly willing the tears that threatened the backs of your eyes to go away.

You looked so tired. Jiyong felt horrible. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted you to know that the man you knew had not been worth the pain you were enduring. He wasn’t worth it in life and was even less deserving in death. Still, he couldn’t just tell you. Delicate, he reminded himself, confess everything slowly and delicately.

“What did he do? Cheat on you or something.” He asked, you said nothing in response, only looked at him with big glistening doe eyes. “Did he break up with you? What...did he die?”

You looked down at your hands on the table. They didn’t feel like your hands, like they were real. None of this felt real. Nothing had felt real for days. Then almost sounding completely out of context you said, “It was a freak elevator accident.”

Still staring down at your hands, you waited for the sound of his laughter. Everyone else you’d had to tell laughed instantly, as if you were undoubtedly joking. You knew it sounded like a lie. What a stupid way for a person to die. So people laughed and would say something like “You’re fucking with me, right?” or “Did Jiho put you up to this? Where is that asshole?” You waited for longer than you expected and still Jiyong did not laugh. Part of you actually thought that when you looked up he would be gone from the table, having left without a word.  When you finally did look up he was still there, looking at you with a genuine concern.

“You don’t think it’s funny?” you asked with a sniff.

“Why would I? You’ve just lost someone you cared very much for. Death isn’t typically a joke for mortals.”

“Everyone laughs when they hear. I laughed.” you admitted, only half hearing his response “When they told me, I laughed. The hospital called and they said...they said he was dead. I laughed and I asked the doctor who he really was, what kind of stupid prank he was playing. Seriously… freak elevator accident! Who dies that way?”

“Nearly fifty people die in elevator related accidents every year, worldwide. You’re less likely to be killed by a shark than an elevator.” Jiyong shrugged and then mumbled, “You’d never know because my brother has a horrible PR team.”

You stared curiously at him, “I-I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He regurgitated the words he knew that most people would say in this sort of situation.

“Are you though?” As hard as he had tried to sound genuine, you saw through it. “You weren’t exactly Jiho’s biggest fan as I remember.”

Jiyong sighed, there was never usually any use in lying to you. It’s why he liked you so much. “I’m not sorry about his death. I am sorry that you’re dealing with the repercussions of having lost a loved one. Especially someone who didn’t earn or deserve the love and care you provided them with in the first place.”

“I missed you.” you said quietly, and you really had. It had been a week and everyone you talked to was exactly the same. Full of pity, lying to make you feel better, treating you like something that would crack and break at the slightest disturbance. You felt like you should have known you could depend on Jiyong to remain brutally honest with you even now. That he would treat you like you were still you. “Why am I not surprised you have no qualms with speaking ill of the dead?”

“Despite popular belief, dying doesn’t change what you did and who you were in life.” he said simply.

“I mean,” you hummed lightly, “it sounds a little harsh when you say it out loud but I suppose it does make sense.”

“I’m pretty smart.” he grinned, and you couldn’t help but smile, however small.

“You’re more cocky than intelligent, sometimes it just works out in your favor.” you joked. He didn’t come back with anything witty like you expected, he just met your gaze. The smile fell from your lips and very seriously you asked, “Can I...confess something to you?”

“Anything.”

You gnawed slightly on your bottom lip nervously for a moment before blurting out the words, “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

Jiyong raised his eyebrows in definite surprise. “Did you fuck with the elevator mechanics or something?”

“No, no. I don’t mean intentionally.” You shook your head fervently and swallowed the small lump in your throat, “We got into a fight the night he died. I told him to leave. I locked him out of the apartment. If I hadn’t done that he never would have gone to stay with his friend that night. He never would have been in that elevator.”

His friend. Jiyong held in his urge to scoff. According to his notebook, Jiho’s friend had been the girl he’d been sleeping with behind your back for almost a year now. He contemplated the best way to proceed with the conversation. The guilt you had been feeling was so clear on your face, he couldn’t just dismiss it.

“Have you considered,” He began slowly, “that if he hadn’t been in the elevator that night, that it wouldn’t have malfunctioned? That you were never the catalyst for the accident, he was?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m saying that I believe that fate is real. Everything from birth to death is predetermined. Which means even if you hadn’t fought that night and he hadn’t died in a faulty elevator, he would still be dead today. Maybe he would have choked on a crouton or tripped over something and crushed his temple on the kitchen counter.”

“Morbid much?” you commented, still processing his theory.

“I don’t think so. I’m just saying that life is life and death happens. You can’t allow yourself to feel guilt over something that probably would have happened regardless of whatever actions you actually took.”

“I just- I didn’t,” you looked away from him quickly, but he could still see the tremble in your lips and glisten in your eyes from the tears that threatened to fall again.

“What was the fight about?” he asked calmly.

“What?” you were clearly surprised by the question. However your lip stopped trembling and your breathing was less panicked. He’d accomplished what he wanted and you didn’t even realize you’d been distracted.

“You said you two had been in a fight that night. It’s why he left. What was the subject matter of the argument?”

“Oh.” you turned away again, but this time to hide the blush that passed over your cheeks.

“What was it?” Jiyong asked, now completely curious, “You can tell me you think you’re the cause of someone’s death but you can’t tell me what you had fought about? Must have been bad.”

You let out a long slow sigh. “It was you. We were arguing about you.”

One of his flawlessly shaped eyebrows lifted to its highest possible point. “Me? Please, do go on.”

You restrained yourself from your regular eyeroll, “There is this stupid cherry blossom festival every spring. They have it at the friendship gardens just outside of town. I went once, and it was so beautiful and remember thinking how romantic it would be. I had really wanted to go so I asked him if he would take me as a date. We hadn’t been on a real date in such a long time. Which I guess I just assumed was what happens when you’re with someone for so long.”

“He said no?”

“He didn’t even pay enough attention to what I was saying to hear the question.” You could hear the annoyed intake of breath, but Jiyong politely said nothing so you continued. “I got so upset. I said if it was too much to ask for him to make an effort, I would just go alone. And he said, ‘Fine, what do I care if you go alone”. Then I...made a comment about how he should start to care because I was going to ask you to take me instead.”

Jiyong dawned the smallest smile at the thought of you thinking of him taking you out. Somewhere you had just said you thought would be romantic, his heart flipped. He wiped the smile from his face fast enough, realizing that this was not at all the time, and he was serious with you once more. “And that, I assume, got his attention.”

“Big time. He wouldn’t let it go. He kept asking me all these crazy questions. He wanted to know where we met. How long we’d known each other. Why you came around so much…”

“If we’ve ever fucked?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“How’d you guess?”

“They always ask that.” he muttered. Cheaters almost always assumed infidelity. “Of course it would be a concern of physical intimacy, as if emotional attachment isn’t just as significant.”

“Right.” you said looking at him with big eyes, taken back by his comment.

“Not… that I’ve assumed you have an emotional attachment to me. Or that I have one for you…” he spewed out the blantent lie, that neither of you really believed.

“No, right. Of course.” you stuttered out your own words.

The table fell into a silence that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, just an awkward energy as the two of you privately tried to decipher your actual feelings towards one another. Jiyong gulped down the rest of his drink, that had gone slightly cold by now, as you picked at something sticking to your apron. The silence lasted long enough for your thoughts to circle back around to Jiho and you felt the overwhelming sadness attempt its return.

“I guess,” you started, “I guess I just wish I’d had the chance to say goodbye and make things right between us.”

This was the opportunity he was hoping wouldn’t come. If there was ever going to be such a thing as a perfect moment this was his. He formed the words inside of his brain, the ones that he would say so simply to anyone else, but because it was you his heart seemed unwilling to release. This was the burden he had placed on himself. As much as he didn’t like it, he still preferred to be the one to do it. He felt you deserved at least that much.

“What if I told you I know how to get to the underworld? Would it interest you to go?” Jiyong asked staring into his now empty mug hoping you’d say no immediately.

You looked at him for a long time without saying a word. When he finally looked up at you expectantly you couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle. “That’s good. That’s a good one. For a second I thought you were serious.”

“I was.” He replied calmly, “I am.”

Suddenly you found yourself uncomfortable and no longer understanding the joke. “That’s not... funny.”

“It’s not meant to be. I can bring you to the entrance of the underworld. Down the river Styx. I can get you passed the main gate and Cerberus. I know a way to get you to Hades palace undetected. It’s safe, most of the journey is through the Fields of Asphodel. If you really wanted me too, I could help you see him again. Possibly even help you free his soul, but ...only if you want to.”

“I-” you scratched the back of your neck, unable to meet his eyes. “I have to get back to work.”

“Y/N…”

You pushed yourself out of the chair, it slid across the polished concrete floor with a loud scraping sound. He watched as you went around the counter and through the swinging doors to the back. His chest felt heavy, you’d never disappeared from him completely like that before. Anger rose up inside him at Jiho and then a fear that he had gone too far, upset you too much. He wasn’t sure how he could have been anymore gentle about it.  

Sitting for a while longer he watched as your coworker helped customers and cleaned around the register while you remained hidden away, but then he decided to give up for the day. It was likely you weren’t coming back out while he was present and he even wondered after a point if maybe you’d left through a back entrance. Standing up he slipped back into his jacket and prepared to leave.

“Jiyong.”

Your voice was soft, but he was sure at this point he’d hear you say his name, that wasn’t even his name at all, from miles away. When he turned around you were standing at the door to the back room. He’d never seen you look so nervous. It almost looked like you were scared of him. For a moment he thought to smile, to try and comfort you, but worried it  wasn’t the right time and would come off creepy. Instead he stood straight faced, hands in his pockets, and waited for you to reach him with your small, uncertain steps.

“I get off work tomorrow at 5.” You said shakily, his eyebrows raised with interest. “Can you take me then?”

“Of course.” He replied. His heart ached slightly. Was it possible that you really loved this man so much you’d offer up your soul for his? He looked down at his polished shoes, “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow then.”

“Wait.” You said quickly as he looked like he was about to sprint away from you. “Do I need to bring anything?”

He’d wanted to be sarcastic and mean to push you away. He wanted to snap at you and prove to himself that really you meant nothing to him. Your eyes were so big, so beautiful and so filled with sadness that he couldn’t do it. He sighed, “Like what?”

“I don’t know...a passport?” He looked up at you stunned and then realized you’d been joking. You let out a breath of a laugh, “You really thought I was that stupid.”

“No, I’d never think-”

You shook your head, “It’s okay. Maybe I am that stupid. I just agreed to let you take me to a place that doesn’t even exist.”

“It does.” He smiled small. “You’ll see. Tomorrow”.

#kwon jiyong scenario #g dragon scenario #big bang scenarios #kpop scenarios #Everlong

[ts1989fanatic]

It is my great displeasure to inform you that two Nashville music industry executives are threatening a woman to stop her from singing lyrics on national television that she wrote in her diary as a 14-year-old girl.

That woman is Taylor Swift, and she's being lauded as the Artist of the Decade at the American Music Awards on Sunday, Nov. 24, due to her unparalleled success over the past 10 years. It's a great honor, and a cause for celebration for both Swift and her longtime super-fans (myself included). But because of the record deal she struck when she was just 15, she is not allowed to perform a medley of the music (often written with collaborators, but always by her) that got her there. Oh, and Netflix isn't allowed to feature it in a documentary it's making about her either.

Now, instead of celebrating with Swift, her fans are commiserating, starting hashtags such as #IStandWithTaylor and partaking in a wider cultural conversation about ownership in the music industry.

This egregious abuse of power is the weird flex of the men who own Swift's back catalog: Scott Borchetta, CEO of her former label, Big Machine, and Scooter Braun, the music manager who bought the label after several years of Swift trying extremely hard to keep her distance from him, in part due to him bullying her in the past.

The multi-award-winning Swift, who signed a new deal with Universal Music Group and Republic Records last November, didn't have ownership of her masters as part of her original deal with Big Machine and said she intended to re-record her first six albums as soon as she is legally allowed (the end of 2020). She's also made no secret of her dismay at Braun being the one to own her music and the betrayal she felt when Borchetta sold it to him.

It's a sad but not uncommon situation Swift has found herself in (Prince famously changed his name in a bid to regain control of his masters, and singer Sky Ferreira recently also spoke of being in a similar position to Swift) -- that the lifetime's work she's poured her heart and soul into is owned by and feeding the bank accounts of two men who had nothing to do with its creation.

They are now refusing to let her perform that older music in specific contexts unless she agrees not to re-record her first six albums and stops speaking about frustration with the situation publicly.

In a statement posted across her social accounts, Swift encouraged people to let Braun, Borchetta, the Carlyle Group (Braun's financial backers) and other artists they're fans of know how they feel about the situation. Fans (and many others who were just outraged) started petitions and reached out to people across the music industry on Twitter to express their frustration. A small number of people have been accused of attempting to dox Braun and Borchetta, but it should be noted that Swift didn't suggest this as a course of action.

The lengths Braun and Borchetta are now going to to forbid her from re-recording music she wrote give a rare inside glimpse at how far music executives with unchecked power will go to control artists. Their actions also prove they're inadequate caretakers for this trove of artistic treasures, beloved by so many, which they're wielding like a weapon against its creator.

When signing her new record deal, Swift felt her only choice to make a better future for herself was to flee the house she built with her own hands, even though it caused her great pain to do so. Now she can't get her songs back, or even borrow them for the weekend. If you're a music fan, this is something you should care about regardless of how you feel about Swift or her music. Because if something like this can happen to Swift, it can happen to any artist, and it does, and will continue to.

In a statement issued Friday, Big Machine broadly denied this, saying "at no point did we say Taylor could not perform on the AMAs or block her Netflix special," acknowledging it did not have the power to do so, but not refuting her specific allegations. Swift's publicist responded with a statement quoting an email in which they deny Swift's requests to perform her music.

Swift is the first to acknowledge this is much bigger than her. She knows that at least she has the power and reach not to have her voice stifled. She also knows all too well the power of withholding music, having taken her music off Spotify for several years to make a point about streaming royalties. But more broadly, she's speaking to the vast power imbalance between music industry executives and artists everywhere.

It's why it's disappointing that so few prominent male artists have so far been willing to join her in raising their own voices, even though they publicly gush over her talent and will happily fish for collaborations in interviews.

The musicians who have spoken up (Halsey, Selena Gomez, Camila Cabello, Lily Allen and Sara Bareilles) are almost exclusively female or new, or they just have smaller followings. With less clout or less of an established presence, these are the artists most at risk of retribution from cutthroat execs, and they should be applauded alongside Swift for their willingness to speak out.

It's worth considering for a moment the current push toward greater artist ownership and empowerment and how this incident will be relayed in that context in the annals of music history. To step back is to see this as part of a pattern of paternalistic power plays designed to disenfranchise artists and keep them in their place.

Braun and Borchetta claim to be on the side of musicians and artistry, often referring to Big Machine as a family. But as things stand, music history will tell a different story. It's hard to imagine anyone in the future looking back at this incident and seeing anything other than two men in a boardroom holding a woman's lifework hostage for the purposes of profit and power. History will likely not be kind to these men, primarily because, in this instance at least, they showed very little care and kindness of their own in their time.

The narrative of Swift's legacy is already secure, thanks to her vast body of critically acclaimed music, much loved by fans for its lyrical depth. It will also speak of her boldness and fearlessness in standing up for herself, others and what she believes in while being frequently berated by the misogynistic attitudes ingrained in the media, the music industry and society as a whole. It's not the story of someone playing victim, as many would have you believe. It will be the story of a victor.

As for Borchetta and Braun, their contribution to music will be remembered as what it is (nil) and if they continue on their current trajectory, their reputation for stifling the contributions of others is at risk of overshadowing anything they've done to promote and support musicians.

There is still time for them to change this narrative and truly uplift the art they claim to support. They've proven they have the power they so clearly desire. Now let's see if they've got the integrity to wield it wisely, ethically, compassionately and for the greater artistic good.

ts1989fanatic well written cogent article with a lot of very valid questions being asked primarily as I asked earlier in a post.

Where the fuck are the men of the music industry and why the hell aren’t the chicken shit assholes voicing their opinions on this subject.

PATHETIC JUST PATHETIC

[twilightlover2007]

JiraiyaX(Daughter) Reader

His body lay on the ground before them. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. Her father had gone on a mission without telling her and barely came back at all. The amulet around his neck was the only reason he even made it back to the village with the toad elders beside him. “No no no no no no! Hold on ok you’ve got to hold on dad!” Amalthea moves quickly trying to find what part of his body was hurt the worst. She wasn’t as talented in medical jutsu as Tsunade, but the Hokage had been giving her lessons aiding in her growth.

The older woman stood behind the girl watching as she tried to find a way to save the man that meant the world to both of them. “You’re going to be ok.” The tears slid down her face dripping onto his blood-stained clothing as her hands began to glow. She was desperate to save the man that had but recently come into her life.

“Thea…” His voice was weak and she chose to keep working even though she knew the damage was severe. She had to save him. “Don’t die. You’re not allowed to die dad.” Speaking as firmly as she could with tears welling up behind her eyes Amalthea’s hands moved over his injuries before his hand rested atop hers. “It’s...too late for me.” Shaking her head quickly she refused to believe it. “No. No, it’s not.”

There was one last way to save him. During her research into her family line, Amalthea found an ability that was all but forbidden. He had so much he could do for the village, Tsunade needed him, and the white-haired girl knew that this was her only chance to keep him alive. Taking a deep breath she began the chant. “Flower gleam and glow...let your power shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.” 

Tsunade felt her heart sinking as she quickly knelt on the other side of Jiraya trying to help Amalthea with his wounds. She was unfamiliar with what the girl was doing but her father’s hand tightened on her. “No. Amalthea.” He spoke as firmly as he could. The girl shook her head resting her head against his shoulder. “I can’t let you die...You’re needed here..” She spoke softly. He had so much to live for, she couldn’t allow him to perish here. The village needed his strength, his guidance. Tsunade needed him. “Heal what has been hurt...change the fate’s design...save what has been lost.” She spoke softly placing her hand on the largest wound he had. “Bring back what once was mine...what once was mine.” With that, she awaited the transfer of her life energy to her father.

Jiraiya felt tears sliding down his face as his daughter willingly gave up her life for him, for the village that had become her home. A glow radiated around his wounds, golden and warm patching up the injuries in his body while Amalthea’s body leaned against him on the ground her eyes closing for what she thought was the last time.

Your time is not done yet, girl. There is someone else that needs you.

Who was that voice? Amalthea knew she should feel nothing but cold around her due to the fact that this jutsu transferred the life of the person who cast it to the one they’re trying to save. There was only one thing that kept it from being used on just anyone. This jutsu only worked with family members. Instead of the cold grip of death, Amalthea felt warmth radiating around her body as she was placed on something that she assumed a cloud would feel like.

You have more to offer this village than you allow yourself to believe. There is one that would be devastated by your loss. I can’t have that brat weeping when he needs to be growing his strength. 

The voice was unlike anything she’d heard before. She felt no pain as she lay on the cloud-like substance listening to this gravely voice. Who are you? She asked wondering if it would even answer her.

 Who I am is of little importance, the one that requires you to live is known throughout the village. You have brought a light into his life. It cannot be taken. I will transfer some of my chakra to you. You will live alongside your father.

With that, the warmth faded and Amalthea felt her eyes slowly opening, though they felt like lead. “Amalthea!” A loud voice called causing her ears to ring as she let out a slight groan of pain rubbing them before a blonde blur came into view. “How are you feeling? Are you ok? Why…” he stopped sniffling for a moment. “Why would you try to do something like that...You know your life is just as valuable as your father’s.” The voice spoke causing the girl to smile softly.

Reaching her hand out she laced her fingers with his. “Sorry...Naruto I...I had to...I couldn’t lose him.” She answered softly as the grip on her hand tightened. “I can’t lose you either..” He spoke as tears slid down his face reaching out to stroke her cheek softly. “Wait, Granny Tsunade I thought you said that jutsu she used was like what Granny Chio did for Gaara.”

Tsunade nodded from her spot beside Jiraiya who was now fully recovered. “It is. There had to be something that gave her enough chakra for her body to stay alive; though you should inform her she’s been in a coma for almost two weeks now.”

That explained why her back was sore, but Amalthea didn’t mind. Smiling at the blonde she tightened her grip slightly on his hand. “I’ll be alright Naruto.” She promised.

With that, the blonde stepped back giving her father room to step closer to her as he ran his hand over her head softly. “What you did was foolish Amalthea. Your life is more valuable than I think you realize. I have lived a good life.” He spoke seriously before his face softened. “I can’t say, however, that I would do any different if the roles were reversed.” He spoke lightly stroking her hair. “Get some rest. Once you’re released you and Naruto are going through some serious training.”

The girl smiled and simply nodded her head softly. She didn’t regret her choice. Not a bit.

(So I’ve been aching to type this out in a Naruto roleplay with a character I’ve created, but most the people have disappeared before we got remotely close to this part. It’s been itching in the back of my mind so long I decided to type a quick little oneshot out and post it! Let me know what you guys think! <3 <3

#Naruto #jiraya #Reader #ReaderInsert #NarutoxReader #Jiraiyaxreader #Sanin #Shippuden #Rapunzel #Kurama #Tsunade #FanFiction #oc

[playunderground]

Revisiting Journey and Abzu, I Found Myself More Depressed About Our World’s Future

This is from the September edition of Play Underground’s monthly digest. In that edition, we focused on walking simulators! This edition is available for our patrons starting at $5 a month. If you aren’t a patron, $6 via Ko-fi will get you a copy.

If you like what you see here, please consider becoming a patron! Thanks for reading! ❤️- PUG! editors

As the days go by, it’s become easier and easier to lose hope. I don’t want to sound like a fatalist, but it’s true. Scientists say that climate change will be irreversible in 11 years. As if that wasn’t bad enough, it seems that human civilization will crumble by 2050. Every day the world seems to be shrieking in anguish. It has become harder and harder to ignore her cries, or to know how to help. 

It’s also become more common in my present day to revisit old pieces of art and media only to find that their exaggerated, absurd, or apocalyptic scenarios are simply regular, everyday life for us now in these turbulent times. My most recent experience of this was when I revisited 2 of my favorite games, Journey and Abzu. As I returned to these games with the intent of figuring out what I wanted to write about, I found myself often struck by the distinct scenarios one finds themself in when playing these games, and how much they feel like premonitions.

Journey and Abzu were released in 2012 and 2016, respectively. While neither are old games by any means, they both were released just before the moment we are currently in where we all collectively feel that nothing could possibly get worse, and then it does. Climate change has been talked about for decades now, but the painting of an apocalyptic future scientists have warned us about has been getting less and less impressionistic since 2016. Both of these games were developed and out in the world well before this moment of maximum capacity. The conversation these games have with our current culture should theoretically be over, yet upon revisiting them, I found a representation more accurate than ever before. 

Let me begin with Journey, the older sibling of the two, a game praised for its music, emotional impact, and finding power in simplicity. In this game, a player controls a robed figure in a massive desert, with the goal of traveling towards a mountain in the distance. As you travel through the desert, you find relics from a once thriving civilization. Art covers the walls of ancient buildings that depict the rise and fall of the civilization that your character belongs to, which also parallels the journey of the character. The main enemies of the game that you must avoid are massive flying automatons that are left over from a war that ended the civilization.

As I finished yet another playthrough of the game, I found myself once again moved to tears. This time however, it was for very different reasons. I could not have predicted before booting up this game again in 2019 that I would be hit with such an impact upon realizing just how much this game is a potential self portrait of humanity’s future. The desert setting certainly isn’t far off from what a world ravaged by climate catastrophe might look like. What hit home for me the most was the fact that the automatons are the last thing remaining in this world after ending the civilization. The idea of military technology being our downfall doesn’t seem so fictional when the United States military is Earth’s biggest polluter. After feeling emotionally ruined in my playthrough, I went on to replay Abzu, and then fell into another emotional sinkhole. I did not know that the rug could be pulled out from under me again. 

The game Abzu follows the journey of a female diver in a vast ocean. As you play the game, you explore various underwater environments, interact with sea life, and reanimate the ocean using magical springs. The story and design of the game take inspiration from Sumerian mythology and Middle Eastern culture. In the game, there are pyramid shaped devices that are harvesting energy from the ocean. It is clear that these devices are what are upsetting the ecosystem and are what caused the destruction of this game’s civilization. As you progress through the game, it is revealed that the diver is a mechanical being whose existence actually comes from the pyramid like structures that are destroying the ocean. The diver ends up teaming up with a great white shark to bring life back to the oceans, and revitalizes the world. 

While the water based setting of Abzu is in stark contrast to the desert of Journey, they both seem equally accurate as potential apocalyptic futures. As the temperatures rise and the ice caps melt, it seems like we will all be living underwater very soon. Once again like in Journey, the downfall of Abzu’s civilization is due to the machinery that was created. All that’s left of the cultures in both games are the evil machines they fashioned, mindlessly continuing the uncaring and violent mechanisms they were made for. 

None of this sounds hopeful, but reality never seems to be either. I do think however it would be a disservice to both of these beautiful games if I tried to argue that the main message at their cores was pessimism towards our future. Both of these games, while dystopian in nature, carry the seeds of hope within them. Journey and Abzu are both stories of sacrifice and perseverance. In Journey, you are on an emotional ride that borders on religious experience. Your character is willing to sacrifice their life for their people, their mission, and their beliefs. One of the major points of gameplay in Journey is that you can play with another player online anonymously. While this may seem like a random or inconsequential gimmick, it actually adds a comforting reality to the story: you are not alone. You are not the last of your people. There are others, and you can help one another to bring about a better future for the both of you. Your existence in the game brings a beautiful red color back to cloth based beings that help you progress through your journey as you interact with them. There is still a future and each being in the game can help you towards a good one, anonymous or not. While all of us may feel powerless in the current state of the world, none of us have to suffer in it by ourselves. By the time you reach that mountain, you are no longer the person you once were. You and your character have been reborn, for the better. 

While Journey focuses mostly on what is needed for an individual, Abzu is a great companion in that the center is much more about the collective and the environment. The sacrifice your character makes in Abzu is for the greater good of the world itself. After the diver realizes that they themselves are a member of the very civilization that is responsible for the destruction of the ocean, they forego their connection to that history for the sake of a better collective future. Your character acknowledges their sins, and decides to make right with the world rather than continue down the path history laid out for them. There is a beautiful twist that occurs as you progress through the game. At first, it seems that the great white shark is one of your major enemies. You quickly realize however that the machinery you are a part of is the actual enemy, while the shark and the other natural creatures of the ocean are your true allies and friends. As you finish the game and the credits roll, you can control the diver in a pristine and beautiful ocean while swimming alongside the great white shark. The cycle of violence is broken, and the ocean is clean and teeming with life once again. I wanted to weep at the thought of a future like that, a world without something like the Great Pacific garbage patch. 

It is clear to me now that the future of our planet depends on our willingness to forego everything we once knew. In both Journey and Abzu, a hopeful and utopian future only came after the destruction of a flawed present, and the depressing period thereafter. The downfall of entire civilizations in these games also meant the ending of the violent systems that had been pushing towards calamity. We must be willing to acknowledge our wrongdoings, both as individuals and as a collective. The characters you play as are all fundamentally changed by the end of the story in these 2 games. We will all have to make sacrifices, whether they be personal, political, technological, or otherwise, and learn from our past and the cultures within it. Much of the inspiration for Journey and Abzu come from non-white, non-western, and indigenous cultures, whose practices and histories are inextricable from environmental justice and liberation. War and colonialism are massive factors of climate catastrophe both in these games and in real life. 

It appears to me now that we must all go on our respective journeys, to find ourselves and what our relationship to the world and one another must be. None of us will be able to come out of it clean, for none of us live in a world that is. The end of human civilization as we currently know it might just be the only option ahead of us. Perhaps though, there is a much needed future in collapse, and glory in rebirth. I pray that we all find it, if not for our own sake then for the world that comes after we are all gone. 

#digest preview #journey #abzu

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 14)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Vivi POV, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Lewis POV, Part 12, Part 13

Part 15: here

Arthur glares at his reflection, leaning closer to the mirror's surface, scanning for imperfections. He’s been managing between four and five hours sleep a night with a careful combination of sleeping pills, anxiety meds and monitoring his caffeine intake. The dark circles, which had started to develop, are smaller and less noticeable. His younger body appears to be adapting to the sudden change in lifestyle decently enough. It’s amazing what a person is capable of when they haven’t spent several weeks lying in a hospital ward or worked themselves half to death. He stares and pulls his expression into a cheerful grin. It’s warm, inviting, the sort of smile you gave a friend upon hearing a particularly humours joke.

Perfect.

To double check, he glances down at his phone which is propped up by the mirror. A photo depicting him, Vivi and Lewis mid-laugh, school gates in the background, stares up at him. After coming to the uncomfortable realisation that he’s failing in the ‘being Arthur’ department and causing unneeded stress, he has been putting a bit more effort into engaging and being more sociable when Lewis and Vivi are around. Hence the search through his computer and phone for as many pictures of himself as possible to use as a reference. There’s not a whole lot because he has never been a huge fan of photos but the ones he does find all show him either grimacing in exasperation or grinning happily alongside Lewis and Vivi. Currently, he has one as a screensaver and a few others stuffed into his wallet for extra material. The three of them, together, happy. It’s weird seeing pictures of Lewis again. After The Cave, he had had to delete or hide away most of them so Vivi wouldn't accidentally see one and have an episode. He reaches to pick up the phone and fumbles with his left hand, almost knocking it into the toilet.

“Arthur,” Uncle Lance yells, voice filtering in from the garage, “You were plannin to leave a half hour ago. You’re not makin those friends of yours wait again are you.”

After a bit of awkward juggling, he manages to circumvent the disaster, and he lets out a long breath of relief.

“It’s okay. Everything’s on track,” Arthur calls, then flushes the toilet, letting out a tired huff. Lance isn’t one to hover, but he has been a whole lot more watchful this last week. Despite Vivi’s instance that he talk to his Uncle, he has yet to broach the topic of his odd behaviour, and Lance hasn’t openly called him out, so he’s been avoiding it mostly. It’s a familiar routine at the very least.

“You goin to keep in touch while on this road trip? Or am I just goinin to have to trust ya not to get murdered,” Lance comments when he tramps out into the reception, thin fibber door clicking behind. Arthur scoops up his overstuffed backpack and shoulder bag from the disused reception desk, slinging one over a shoulder.

“Yeah. Of course,” he gives the grin a trial run, “I’ll give you a call when we stop for the night. Unless there’s no reception, then I’ll call you tomorrow,”

His uncle frowns at him searchingly, “See that ya do,”

He doesn’t remember Lance being this worried on his first time around, but it’s possible he’s just forgotten.

“I will,” he does a small wave, stepping towards the front door, “Guess I’ll see you in a mouth then,”

This van is parked out front, full tank, packed with supplies, ready to go. All he has to do is pick up Vivi and Lewis from the Pepper’s diner.

Before he makes it through the doorway, Lance grabs his lower arm, pulling him up short, “You get inta any trouble you give me a call, ya hear.”

Lance is about a head shorter than him, so he has to bend at an odd angle. Thankfully, he doesn’t flinch at the sudden contact, but it’s a near thing.

“We’re doing regular touristy things. You know, the Grand Canyon, Mt. Rushmore, stuff like that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Hopefully.

Lance grumbles inaudible complaints under his breath and lets his arm go, giving a stern nod. Arthur rolls his eye’s good-naturedly, squashing a chuckle, amazed at how natural the interaction feels. The comfortable sensation lasts up until he turns back towards his van. It’s bright orange, shinning with a fresh coat of lacquer.

There is no ‘Mystery Skulls’ logo.  

His smile falters, falling away. Of all the things he thought he would change this hadn’t been one of them. Vivi and Lewis had decided to hold off finishing the van’s design under the mistaken impression that Arthur disapproved of it. A by-product of blaming his recent change in behaviour on a fear of supernatural phenonium.  How the hell do you explain that it’s not the supernatural generally that’s the problem, just their groups' tendency to run into danger with lethal outcomes. An increase in hovering by both his friends means that any excuse or reasoning he tries needs to be airtight or risk being picked apart by a hyper-attentive Vivi and overly watchful Lewis. So... no ‘Mystery Skulls’ logo.  

With a sigh, he approaches, running his left hand across its smooth, unmarked, surface. Somewhat forcefully, he yanks open the door, throwing his bag into the back and settling into the driver’s seat. Time to go pick up his overly attentive friends and spend the next few weeks exclusively in their company, with no breaks and possibly sharing the same tent and the motel rooms.

He’s so not ready for this. If they don’t notice his weird sleeping habits, then they are sure to see when he inevitably slips up in his acting. Arthur slaps his cheeks with both hands, taking a few more deep breaths, thinking of Vivi and Lewis, both of whom were waiting.

It’s too late to worry about that now. Everything is okay. This will be fine.  

The van rumbles to life and he waves at Lance one last time. The older man is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eye’s tracking Arthur as he expertly reverses and spins the van onto the highway.

…

Pepper Paradiso is located on the same highway as Kingsman Mechanics, just on the opposite side of town. It’s hard to miss, being painted in bright shades of pink and purple. Sporting wide, stain-glass windows, the building is almost alarming in its contrast with the browns and dull greens of the surrounding desert.

“Arthur!”

Vivi greats as he pulls in, bobbing about in poorly contained excitement. The smoothly paved lot encircling the Pepper’s diner is mostly empty, not uncommon for the early morning, and he pulls straight into a spot near double door entrance. Lewis is in standing by the doors in the middle of what looks like a family huddle. Both senior Peppers are there, and he’s got one of his little sisters sitting atop his shoulders. A wistful smile tugs at Arthur’s lips. There had been many days during his extended quest to find Lewis dominated by the fear that he would fail and never see the Pepper family, happy, all together, ever again.

Vivi jogs up, and Arthur shakes the melancholic thoughts away, winding down his window so he can hear her while he finishes up parking. Mystery is trotting alongside her, and he tries not to give the dog any overt attention. This last week he’s been working the gauge how much Mystery knows but the dog is just too good at being a dog for him to get a proper read.

“There you are. Almost thought you’d forgotten again. Then we would have had to postpone things till the afternoon and miss a whole day’s worth of driving.”

Arthur can almost taste the slight underlining tension which now pops up whenever he forgets or doesn’t behave in a way that’s expected. Vivi’s on the lookout for behaviour flags. Luckily, he’s got a lot of experience dodging Vivi’s pointed questions.

“Yeah, sorry, it took me more time to pack than I anticipated. Also, Lance wanted to say bye as well. That took a bit longer than I thought it would.”

He hits her with the grin he’s just spent the last half hour perfecting in the mirror. It’s a success because Vivi relaxes and grins back.

“Haha. You’re not the only one,” She gestures at Lewis and his family huddle, “You would think he’s leaving for good with the way they’re acting.”

“They are a pretty affectionate people,” he responds, quashing the strain in his voice. Vivi doesn’t notice, now focused on Lewis again. Don’t think about it. This time Lewis is going to return. He’ll make sure of it.

“Hey, Lew. Look who finally showed up,” Vivi calls over, waving. Lewis, one sister still on his shoulders and another dragging at his arm, tries to turn and almost topples over. Vivi snorts in amusement. Her shout also attracts the attention of Lewis’s family. Cayenne, the little red-haired menace, immediately runs over to jump around just below his window.  

“Arthur. Arthur is this your van! It’s cool. Can I come in? Pleeaasse.”

“You’ve been in the van before,” He says with only a slight hint of apprehension. Cayenne used to be pretty big on pranking from what he remembers. After Lewis’s disappearance, her Arthur-targeted jokes had become less frequent, almost non-existent.  But, since that hasn’t happened, he should probably be on the lookout.

“But now it’s orange!” Cayenne shouts enthusiastically, jumping up, trying to get a look in.  

Vivi sniggers, “She’s got you there Arthur.”

He opens his mouth to object but is beaten to it by Lewis, “I’m sure the van’s too full to fit you in. Maybe, when we get back, Arthur will give you a ride if you ask nicely.”

“Aww. No fair,”  Cayenne pouts, throwing a look back towards Mr and Ms Pepper like she is hoping for Lewis’s verdict to be overridden.  

Lewis crosses his arms, appearing about as stern as one can with Paprika, who’s covered in copious amounts of ribbon and lace, sitting on his shoulders, clinging and messing up his hair.

“Cayenne,” comes an amused grumble from the older Pepper, “Make yourself useful and go help Belle with your brother’s bag,”

A few feet away Belle is attempting to move Lewis’s fully packed duffle-bag with minimal success. Arthur swears Cayenne gives him the evil eye on her way past, and he shivers, feeling like he’s dodged a bullet. Paprika also scrambles down off Lewis’s shoulders to join Cayenne. Together, the three girls manage to lift the bag despite taking the time to stop and squabble among themselves.

Lance sighs, watching his sisters merger progress, and loosens, turning to an amused Vivi, “She’s had this thing about fart bombs this last week. Don’t know where they’ve come from but I, for one, don’t want to suffer for the next eight hours.”

Vivi laughs, “Good thinking.”

Mystery barks, jumping around, acting every bit the excited dog, energised by the surrounding activity.

They watch Cayenne, Belle and Paprika attempt to drag over Lewis’s bag, stumbling when Mystery gets caught underfoot. He ends up climbing out of the van to help Vivi load up her last two packs, one of which is full of books going by the weight, while she runs off to corral her fake dog.  So far, everything’s off to a good start. Lewis is too distracted saying goodbye to his family and Vivi is fussing over Mystery.

Now. If Arthur can just keep it together for the next eight hours, then everything would be perfect.

Note: Had a bit of a dip in motivation to write recently. Luckily, you can always count on long-ass train trips to bore me into productivity.

Part 15: here

#mystery skulls animated #MSA #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur kingsmen #Lewis pepper #ViVi #the pepper family makes an appearance #time travel #trying to change the future while not telling anyone is always a good idea #is this filler?

[lordmartiya]

Fox Rain chapter 2

@lilanette-week

@supermenteuse

@emblian

@starcrossed-stardust

Hi guys, I’m back. Today we have Lila’s debut as a superhero-dealing with her own mess in her own peculiar way. Plus, some worldbuilding and a few hints about my headcanon for our fox. by lord Martiya

Chapter 02: The Collector

“Let’s see if I’ve understood what’s happening.” Lila said. “You aren’t a figment of my imagination but the Quantic God of Illusions, for lack of a better term, and what makes the Fox Miraculous more than a jewel somehow older than civilization, your powers are fed by edible seeds(1) in general but you have a very convenient preference for my favorite snack, and you’re here because the Guardian of the Miraculous thinks I can make a good hero… And he took the decision after I went Volpina, WHY?”

“Because he knows that even under Papillon’s influence you were able to sacrifice a near-certain victory to avoid collateral damage(2), among other things.”

It made sense: taking Adrien hostage would have meant the certain capture of those earrings, and yet she didn’t even look out for him. Her grudge had been with Ladybug, and aside a few illusions to lead away interlopers she had gone after her only. Sure, it had allowed Chat Noir to expose the illusion for what it was, somehow (she had known he was smarter than some Ladybug fanboys depicted him, but she had still grossly underestimated him).

“So he thinks that now Ladybug and I will be best friends?” she still asked.

“No. But I know you can be a hero, if given the chance.” Trixx replied.

“I suppose… Well, then, let’s exercise. Trixx, strasfomame(3)!”

An instant later, Lila was replaced with a fox-themed superbeing. And then, she started playing.

“Why are you standing there, Antonia?” Lila’s father asked as he looked at his wife standing before their daughter’s door.

“Right now, she needs to calm down, and not binge on comfort food, then we’ll help her with this mess.” his wife replied.

“Like last time in Tokyo?”

“Do you think it could have gone any better?”

“No. Not really. But she’s been playing that flute since she arrived, and it’s midnight!”

Antonia Rossi sighed. It was still healthier than some things Lila had done to vent her anger.

“I suppose we should involve that friend of hers?” she proposed

“And make Lila sleep before she wakes up everyone.”

Marinette hadn’t slept too much. Between the surprise about her Miraculous, the nightmares about what Volpina could have done (her grandmother hadn’t skipped much about the tales of the two last known holders of the Fox Miraculous), and the very likely chance Papillon was Gabriel Agreste, of all people, she had trouble both falling and staying asleep. If she had some luck, maybe she could try and see what she could do for Adrien if his father was indeed Paris’ supervillain and establish a better relationship with Lila at least in her civilian identity.

“In culo alla balena lì a Pechino, Tigre!”

Speaking of which, she could see Lila standing before the school’s gate, still wearing her necklace and ending a phone call with someone in Beijing(4) who at the very least understood Italian and its colorful ways to wish someone good luck. And apparently she hadn’t slept much either, judging by the bags under her eyes. Eyes that were staring right at her.

“Hi. You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? I’m Lila Rossi, the new transfer student.” she said. “Sorry for not coming sooner, but yesterday was an “interesting” day even before being attacked by that purple bowtie.”

Marinette looked at the Italian girl, trying to register what she had just called Papillon-and she got exactly the pun right, thanks to her grandmother’s attempts at getting her to speak Italian-before bursting into laughter.

“You were supposed to ask me why did I call your terrorist like that… I guess the other name for the bowtie in French is “butterfly tie”(5)?” Lila asked.

“Yes!” she shouted once she got out of the hysteric laughter. She had needed that. “Sorry… Sorry, it’s just that nobody has ever called him that…”

“I suppose I should add Odysseus to my middle names, then.”

Suddenly, Marinette realized just why Lila had been able to become popular so fast: she didn’t know her well, but she could already tell she was much better with people than Chloe.

“Still, I think I’ll need your help.” Lila admitted. “I realized yesterday I know even less of Paris than I thought when-”

“DID YOU THINK YOU COULD FOOL ME?!” shouted Chloe as she stomped their way.

“Parli der diavolo…” Lila whispered. “I think I know what you’re talking about, but I may be wrong…”

“I’m talking of your supposed friendship with Jagged Stone. Didn’t expect me to verify it, did you?”

And here it was, one of Lila’s lies being exposed. And by Chloe, of all people. Still, Lila was unfazed.

“Didn’t expect you to take me at face value.” the Italian girl replied. “Ask everyone how I reacted after you stomped away, you’ll find I was quite surprised by you taking my sarcasm at face value. Seriously, until recently we never were in the same country at the same time, how did you buy it?”

Marinette’s hand met her face. Apparently, one of Lila’s lies hadn’t been intended to be a lie at all… And she was responsible for making it believable. Well, she and Chloe. That at least meant she should give her the benefit of doubt for the other non-Ladybug related claims, she decided as they walked in, Lila still wondering why Chloe had walked away uttering her catchphrase.

As they walked, Marinette asked Lila a few things about her travels, carefully avoiding her claimed friendships with famous people. Something Lila seemed pleased, even if she was quite reticent about London and the United Kingdom-or “Perfidiously Nosy Albion and its excessively proud capital”, as she had called them, and was startled by the presence of a British transfer student.

“Let’s just say I had a few bad experiences there.” Lila said. “Enough it’s since six AM that Tigre and Silvie’ have been pestering me to make sure I don’t shut myself in again. But let’s talk about something nicer. Any idea why Chloe reacted that way when I explained I had been sarcastic about Jagged Stone?” Marinette had a nervous laugh, and decided to explain: “Well, it’s a funny story, that started with one of Chloe’s stunts. When we-”

Marinette was interrupted by Chloe’s shriek, and she and Lila ran to the class, Mari expecting she had caused another Akuma… But it wasn’t that, but something Marinette considered much worse. Gabriel Agreste was better not being Papillon, or she’d make him pay for this one too.

During the lunch break, Lila walked around the school’s courtyard wondered about the situation, and the mess she was partly responsible for. She remembered the book with information about the Miraculouses-pretty much all Italians would have recognized the Fox Miraculous holder everyone called Donna Volpe, the one that had become Italy’s national hero in 1943 and was still so loved that her hairstyle was still imitated(6), and with the others the deduction was easy-that she had taken with the intention to give Adrien a scare when she fished it out of the thrash, and while she was pretty sure it had been Ladybug to retrieve it before her it was still her who had taken it. And now, Adrien, who she had heard had been kept trapped in his home by his overprotective parents for most of his life, had been pulled out of school over it. She needed to fix that. And she was coming up with a plan, in case Gabriel Agreste ended up becoming someone else’ problem. She’d have to run it to Trixx, but she was confident enough. She went to a closet to talk with her kwami-but before she could, she was pulled inside by Ladybug.

“Have you heard of your boyfriend and are going to give me the full blame for it too?” Lila asked her.

“No.” Ladybug replied with a sigh. “Well, I’ve heard, but I just hoped to find out why you’re so furious.”

“With you? You know exactly what you’ve done. But that I suppose could be secondary, compared to the fact I may have found out who the evil bowtie is.” Ladybug snorted at the joke. “Namely, Gabriel Agreste.”

“I know, it was the book.”

“You see, it’s been a while since I, and my mother and a few others, have suspected a connection between him and Papillon.”

“Good to know, but I know where the book is from.”

“Specifically, since when Gabriel Agreste publicly proclaimed he’d not change the butterfly logo of the sports-dedicated offshoot of his brand(7) and proclaimed he’d not be intimidated by a butterfly-themed terrorist and the next four Akuma villains Le Signeour des Poches, Le Bulleur(8), Pocketless, and Mr. Pocket were people angry at him, a few mistrustful minds have wondered if he set up the whole thing to throw off suspicions, something reinforced by Pappy’s designs often being so tacky you’d swear he’s a designer doing bad on purpose to throw off suspicions.”

“You’re right, but I know where the book is from.”

“And then, suddenly, Adrien Agreste has a book with a portrait of Donna Volpe and other Miraculous Holders alongside nonsense words written in Nyctographic(9) and ROT13(9). Didn’t realize right away, what with having already a bad day before the idiot took an antique book to school, was planning to terrify him with the appearance it had been stolen before fishing it out of the thrash, but I dare say that’s quite the big hint. Don’t you think?”

“I’ve been telling you for a while, I recognized the book and know where it comes from.”

“Oh. Monologuing again… Anyway, considering past patterns, I expect that if Gabriel is indeed Papillon he’ll akumatize himself to throw off suspicions before the end of the day.”

Ladybug looked at her, seemingly put out by Lila’s mistrusting and apparently paranoid mind, but then admitted it made far too much sense.

“Still, I don’t like it.” she admitted.

“Neither do I.” Lila replied. “And I may have a plan to fix it, if Gabriel is innocent.”

“And how do you t-”

“LILA ROSSI, PREPARE TO DIE!”

That shout in a somewhat familiar voice left Ladybug frozen mid-phrase, her twitching eye being the only thing that moved. Then, her irritation easily surpassing the one she had shown when she had shouted at Lila, she pushed the Italian girl away from the door, put herself in position to jump anyone who entered, and cried out: “Lila, don’t talk, she’s after you!”

As Lila’s face started showing her outrage at the heroine revealing her position to her aggressor the door was busted away from its hinges, revealing an Akuma villain looking like a blonde girl in glasses and a red dress she was sure was out from some manga-and then Ladybug picked a picture of Adrien from her pocket and ripped it, revealing the Akuma that was promptly caught before dragging the now de-akumatized girl to two older students bearing a clear resemblance to Marinette and Adrien, summoning a stress ball with the Lucky Charm, and zipping away as the two students dragged the girl away, completely ignoring her screams that it was because she had tried to seduce “her Adrien” that the boy had been pulled from school.

“Cazz’è uscito dall’ovo de Pasqua?” Lila whispered as she tried to register what had just happened.

“I understand you’re trying to settle in, but don’t you think getting Akumatized and attacked by Rose Bride in the first two days of school is rushing things?” the mayor’s daughter quipped.

“Uh? You know what that thing was about?”

“I suppose Ladybug wouldn’t like to talk about it… Fine, I’ll explain. That was the Rose Bride. She’s actually named Zoe Chevalot, but with how often she gets Akumatized only the teachers call her that anymore.”

“Nobody sane, I meant. Anyway, she’s Adrikins’ most annoying fangirl, and gets Akumatized out of jealousy so often nobody could keep count.”

“I did.” Cesaire pointed out from distance.

“Nobody sane, I meant. Anyway, to anyone else the attacks tend to blur together after a while, and Ladybug gets so furious she leaves as soon she’s done and the Lucky Charm is always a stress ball. She’s also convinced that Adrien is Chat Noir because it would be cool.”

“E quanno la capano alla palazzina?” Lila asked, slipping into her native dialect out of surprise.

“I suppose you’re asking why they haven’t committed her yet?”

“More or less.”

“Easy: she’s the only daughter of the prefect of police, and while the ministry of the interior turned the police over to daddy’s control until Papillon is dealt with because he’s better at the job(10) he still holds enough power that Gabriel Agreste couldn’t even file a restraining order.”

“Ah. Uh… What about the Akumatizations and settling in?”

“Sweetie, the only ones in our class who haven’t been Akumatized at least once are Adrikins and Marinette. Speaking of which you’re better watch everything you do with her today, she’s been targeted by Rose Bride so often her attacks make her murderous for hours. Seriously, she should grow a thicker skin, to surpass the attacks Rose Bride made on me she’d need to combine them with Ladybug…”

Lila’s palm met her face, hoping things wouldn’t get any worse.

Not even five minutes later she managed to have a chat with Trixx, who revealed that a Miraculous Holder is immune to their own power-and thus Papillon couldn’t Akumatize himself. So much for that plan. Well, she could still have fun with it if Gabriel did end up Akumatized. Now, if only she could find out why Papillon Akumatized the prefect’s daughter so often…

“Sir, I don’t like to repeat myself, but Mlle Chevalot is too stubborn to get scared away from your son by repeated Akumatizations, and the prefect is surprisingly stupid when it comes to his daughter.” Natalie said to her supervillain boss.

“Doesn’t matter, Natalie, sooner or later the government will have her committed.” Papillon replied. “But I supposed you aren’t here for that.”

“No. I just wanted to inform you that Adrien has already ran away.”

Papillon smiled. Finally he could go on with his plan to throw off suspicions without endangering him-assuming he wasn’t Chat Noir, of course. And thinking about plans he decided to attack the Italian embassy: he needed Volpina for his greatest plan if everything else failed, and if Lila Rossi wasn’t festering in her room as he had expected she could calm down… And as he couldn’t afford that, he would have to make her collect more anger.

Papillon gave a brief laugh at his pun before preparing the Akuma-and change himself into The Collector.

“THIS IS RIDICULOUS! UTTERLY RIDICULOUS!” The Collector shouted as he dodged another burst of autocannons.

Thanks to his work travels in Italy, Gabriel Agreste had experimented that, as a reaction to the Years of Lead and other events Italian law enforcement had become frighteningly efficient when it came to terrorist threats, and he had been expecting their embassy to have tight security, especially as his actions as The Papillon were technically terrorist attacks. But the moment he entered the gardens of Hôtel de Boisgelin he had been attacked with heavy machine guns and anti-aircraft autocannons. Those he could tank easily, but if they shredded the book he’d lose his transformation, and he couldn’t expect them to stop firing in time. The anti-tank rocket-firing cannons, on the other hand, were a bit more dangerous, but easier to Collect.

He noticed a glow on the side and moved, just in time to avoid an attack that could have not been Collected and would have destroyed the book, had it hit.

“Who’s still using flamethrowers(11)?!” a feminine voice shouted

“Exactly!” The Collector agreed, before recognizing the voice and turning to see the very surprised Ladybug and Chat Noir, with (of course) Alya Cesaire filming them-from outside, as one of the soldiers was keeping her out. “Finally! I am the Collector, an-OUFF!”

The Akumatized villain was hit in the gut and thrown back by an invisible projectile, that was revealed as a car engine when it became visible in a familiar orange glow. As he looked at the two heroes he saw someone else becoming visible-the actual new user of the Fox Miraculous. He could see she had a passing resemblance to both his Volpina and the previous user, especially the suit-that he had to admit he had copied entirely. There were also many differences: rather than a reddish-brown Marilyn hairstyle she had a full orange “pel di volpe”; then the tail wasn’t a belt but an actual fluffy tail-that for some reason had caught Ladybug’s attention; finally, she was wearing a bomber, an unlatched modern military helmet decorated with fox ears and goggles that covered the mask (assuming she had one), and her gloves had some kind of padding on the back.

A moment later, as the defending soldiers-and the female Carabiniere with tan skin and platinum blonde hair in long pigtails (of all hairstyles) directing them-ceased fire in surprise and apparent awe, Ladybug got her eyes away from the tail and asked the newcomer who she was.

“I am Vorpika!” she presented herself before pointing her flute at The Collector. “The only superhero this gargante dressed Armanicomio needs!”

“Hey! It’s The Papillon’s fault, not mine!” The Collector protested, a bit defensive over the horrible outfit he had given himself.

“I don’t care. What I care is to show Paris what the real Holder of the Fox Miraculous can do!”

At that, The Collector was curious. And worried. He knew the Fox Miraculous had the power to create incredibly realistic illusions, and an experienced user could create dozens of easily dispelled ones (like the ones used by Volpina) without triggering her timer, but what the 1943 user had done in Rome hinted that flute had other abilities, that or could be used for various spells.

And as she started playing, he could see strange creatures emerging from the ground around him. A horrifying monster that was best described as Sulley from Monsters, Inc. after having his character design revised by Lovecraft, an absurdly tall tree-like humanoid with a white nothing in place of the face, a… A Klingon warrior with an exaggerated forehead crest, white feathers covering his body and a duck bill?!

At that, The Collector realized Vorpika was using pre-set illusions to make it look like she was summoning monsters and turned to her-

“Yoink!”

Only to have the half-Klingon half-duck one grab the book and disappear in an orange glow to reveal the actual Vorpika inside, who promptly kicked him through a wall. As he felt the transformation dispel, Gabriel noted the presence of a woman with a certain resemblance to Lila and a rather large man that reminded him of someone, the former holding a gun on him and the latter cracking his knuckles. Then, as the three heroes and various soldiers-including the Carabiniere-came in and a white butterfly flew away, he asked if Adrien was well.

“That would depend on your provisions for your arrest, Cravattino di merda.” Vorpika addressed him.

Oh, crap.

Ladybug had been surprised, and positively impressed, by the new superhero from Italy-with a name like that, the origin was pretty obvious to her and pretty much everyone at the embassy(12). She was, on the other hand, a bit worried from her assumption that Gabriel was Papillon-apparently, her kwami hadn’t told her yet that they were immune to their own powers.

“Now, why I would think that? I mean, Papillon’s identity is protected by the magic of the Miraculous.” Vorpika continued. “The first incident was when, shortly after Papillon first appeared, you declared you wouldn’t rename the Gabriel Butterfly sub-brand or even change the color of its symbol because you wouldn’t be intimidated by a butterfly-themed terrorist, and the next four Akuma went after you. Could have been a result of the fact you and the terrorist share a horrible temper, or that you, as Papillon, decided to be clever and, to add another layer of protection to your identity by making it appear you were being targeted. I believe I’m not the only one here who came to suspect you for that.” The last phrase was underscored by her pointing at the woman who had been holding Mr Agreste at gunpoint even before Vorpika and her fluffy tail-Ladybug slapped her temples to regain focus-started talking. As Ladybug noticed Gabriel was starting to sweat, Vorpika continued. “So, when I arrived in Paris, I decided to keep you under control, and while I’ve not mastered all my spells yet I can already use a lesser version one of the Pied Piper’s tricks. Nothing much, and it’s easily blocked by the magic of even an inactive Miraculous, but enough I could put a hypnotic command into your son’s mind to have him look around for hints and report, and guess what? He discovers you have a coded book on the Miraculouses, book that is now in my hands.”

At that Ladybug frowned, Vorpika didn’t have the book, she had recovered it after Lila put it in th-That was the moment Ladybug realized that before her, clad in the magic costume of the Fox Miraculous Holder, stood Lila Rossi. Who was seeing her theory confirmed. After noting that Chat too seemed to have caught on that she decided to intervene before the unpredictable girl could decide to assault Gabriel, but Vorpika, who was enjoying Mr Agreste’s discomfort, signaled to let her finish.

“And not even twenty four hours after I retrieve the book, you are Akumatized.” Vorpika continued. “Clearly, you are Papillon who was spooked when his little handbook disappeared and thought Ladybug was onto him and decided to throw her off by Akumatizing himself… That would be what I’d think if I didn’t know for sure he cannot do just that.”

For a moment, everyone could just hear the surprise caused by Vorpika’s final declaration. Then Chat, the first one to recover, shouted what everyone was thinking:

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“To see him squirm.” Vorpika explained with a smile. “I mean, he raised his son under such isolation he became naive enough it was believable he wouldn’t realize that bringing an antique book to a school was a horrible idea.” Ladybug caught herself nodding at that. “Speaking of which, why did you have it?”

“I… I found it in an excursion in Tibet with my wife.” Mr Agreste explained, still shocked by Vorpika’s stunt. “I used it for inspiration a few times… It’s a dear memory and-”

“Say no more. I need it for a while, but I suppose I can give it back to you in a few days. In the meantime you should upgrade your security, lest it ends in the hands of that Papillon der grillo coi fiori’n mano.”

Ladybug mentally completed the quote(13) thanks to some of the Italian movies her grandmother had shown her during the lessons of Italian, and found herself once bursting into laughter at Lila’s insults for Papillon.

“Everyone, sorry for the mess. Would fix it, but I cannot.” Vorpika said. “Ladybug, could you deal with this and meet me with your partner over Eiffel’s apartment?”

“Could you explain the book part?” Chat asked right away as soon as they were all three over Gustave Eiffel’s apartment at the Tower and Vorpika had admitted she had only just received the Miraculous-and spent the whole night perfecting the trick she had used.

“Adrien Agreste was that naive and brought the book at school, and, to give him a scare, I had decided to fish it out of the thrash before his eyes.” she said. “In hindsight it was an incredibly stupid idea, but in my defense the day hadn’t started out well and that kind of things just drives me mad, so I wasn’t thinking straight. Still, even with Ladybug taking it before I even got to that point I had to claim my responsibilities, possibly in a way that would cover for that adorable fool, and certainly before Ladybug came up with something that would get her in trouble.”

Ladybug had to admit to herself she had been planning to walk up to Mr Agreste as Marinette and claim full responsibility-and get in trouble with someone who could blacklist her from the fashion world.

“I was planning to do something that would have got me in trouble…” Ladybug admitted. “Still, thanks. And welcome to the team.”

As she said that she offered her hand to Vorpika, who slapped it away.

“Make no mistake, Ladybug, I’m not going to forgive you for what happened, right here.” she said. “Trixx, my kwami, said I could have been mistaken, but it’s now clear I was right. And that I cannot forgive, that and just how I admired you, and the fact you’ve been checking my butt for half the fight at the embassy.”

Ladybug opened her mouth in shock and embarrassment horror. She had no idea what Vorpika meant about what happened last time on the Eiffel Tower, but was all too aware of what else she was referring to, and the truth was possibly even more embarrassing.

“I-I-I wasn’t!” Ladybug said, blushing but not too willing to tell the truth.”

“Pretty sure you’ve been filmed.”

“But-I-I WAS LOOKING AT THE TAIL! I really wanted a pet fox as a child but my parents couldn’t let me have it.”

Vorpika and Chat looked at her, silent in the surprise.

“That’s so cute…” Chat whispered.

“Iiii-I have to agree.” Vorpika said. “At least you aren’t a pervert… But as I was saying, I will help you, I will even follow your lead in combat, you aren’t stupid enough to waste this power, but once we’ve dealt with Papillon, we’re making gloves. Alla prossima.”

With that Vorpika left, leaving the two other heroes behind.

“My Lady, what did she mean?” Chat Noir asked.

“She wants to beat me up when we’re done.” Ladybug explained.

“No, with the insult. Unless you met more time than I know?”

“Not transformed, and I have no idea for the insult.”

“Hope she comes around soon. And I could procure you a pet fox, if your parents have changed their mind.”

“CHATON!”

“So, it worked?” Natalie asked her boss.

“Yes. But it was a close call.” Gabriel admitted. Then, remembering his secretary was more versed than him in the various trivia of Italian culture, he asked her something that had been nagging at his mind: “At one point Vorpika called me, and I quote, “Papillon der grillo coi fiori’n mano”, and everyone at the embassy started laughing, do you have any idea why?”

After processing what her boss had just told her and completing the quote, Natalie proceeded to explain. Hearing the shout, Adrien decided that maybe he wouldn’t ask Lila about the “grillo” thing.

The following day Lila had found herself to what her best friend, that she had graced with dozens of Tiger-themed nicknames, had told her was the best bakery in Paris, and where she had pre-ordered a sunflower seed cake-if they had actually pulled that, the Tiger had actually understating their ability. The previous day had been a trip, and she needed her sweet.

As she was paying she saw an unexpected sight-Marinette running out from the back of the shop.

“Marinette? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I live here, it’s my parents’ bakery.” she replied, just as surprised to see Lila. “What about you?”

“I’ve been told this is the best bakery in Paris, and I’ve decided to see if it’s true or the Tiger understated things as she sometimes does. Almost forgot, I have some interesting news: Adrien should be back at school today.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lila confirmed, finding herself surprised at how she liked the happiness on Marinette’s face. “Heard from Ladybug that the new hero, Vorpika, was accidentally responsible, and she has admitted it. Fancy coming with me at school? You still have to tell me why did Chloe believed me when I made that joke about Jagged Stone.”

Lila wondered why Marinette’s face fell in embarrassment. Then Marinette’s father produced a copy of Rock Giant, and both Marinette’s sudden embarrassment and the whole situation with Chloe were explained. The Italian girl supposed she could like Paris, after all.

Notes

(1)Trixx’ recharge food is based on Inari, the Japanese fox god of fertility and rice plus many other things added in the later forms of their cult, and comes from rice’s valuable part being the seed. As for why they prefer sunflower seed… That’s for me to know and you to wonder about-and groan when you find out. :-D

(2)That’s one of the things that make me believe Lila, at least at her debut, is nowhere near as evil as some paint her: even during akuma-influenced madness she refused to cause collateral damage, even as it ultimately cost her the battle, and concentrated herself on Ladybug only.

(3)Headcanon warning: I see Lila as someone from Rome, and I have both an Italian-Romanesco dictionary and some basic knowledge to write her some phrases in that colorful dialect. Her particular transformation phrase is only the start.

(4)French still uses the first Western romanization “Pekin” for Beijing, and Italian still uses a name derived from it.

(5)As I said more than once, I call Hawk Moth by his original name specifically because “papillon” in Italy is the bowtie. Sadly for Lila’s (and my) plan for a longer joke, the main French name for that tie is indeed nœud papillon, literally “butterfly tie” (the same as in Italy)…

(6)How I explain Lila’s resemblance with that Miraculous holder: it’s on purpose out of admiration at the holder. So admired that the name Lila refers to her with means “Lady Fox” (or “Fox Woman”, but in the ‘40s it would have been definitely the former). The actual superhero name will be revealed at a later date.

(7)The secondary logo for Gabriel is indeed a purple butterfly. Considering it appears on Adrien’s sneakers and our favorite model has made sportswear pictures (such as the one where’s in boxing gear), I reserved it for the sportswear.

(8)In the US version, the Bubbler.

(9)The actual codes used for the writings on the Miraculous Spellbook in the series-that in-universe are obviously a different code not based on Latin alphabet and Indo-European languages.

(10)My personal fix for just why Andre Bourgeois has authority on Paris’ police when the French capital doesn’t have a local police but only a special detachment of the national one depending from the Prefect of Police: the prefect has screwed up enough that his superiors don’t trust him anymore but not enough to get removed, hence them passing the actual authority to the mayor.

(11)As of 2017, the Italian Army still had the Tirrena T-148/B flamethrower in active service. Demolition and anti-tank weapon, supposedly.

(12)Yes, Vorpika has a very specific meaning in Italy. What it means shall be explained in the story.

(13)On FF.Net and AO3 I did not provide a complete quote nor a translation to protect this fic’s rating, as outside of Rome it’s a very vulgar joke... But this is tumblr, so... The complete quote, a common (if vulgar) joke on the Italian movie “Il Marchese del Grillo”, is “Il Marchese del Grillo, coi fiori in mano e il cazzo a spillo”, and translates literally as “The Marquiss del Grillo, with flowers in the hand and a pin-shaped dick”.

#lilanette #miraculousladybug #LilaRossi

[wishbonehearts]

❝ girls are cruelest to themselves. ❞ natalia delacour-bardon, kristine froseth, sixteen, sixth year, hufflepuff, a cis-woman, one-eighth veela, she/her

character parallels: hanna marin, caroline forbes, buffy summers, summer roberts, cher horowitz, elle woods, brooke davis, bubbles, heather mcnamara, sansa stark

head’s up: i wrote most of this on discord when i was dead tired and it’s really messy because of it. it’s not amazing but i’m ready to get her on the dash so it’ll have to do!

unlike my other female characters, natalia is so unabashedly a teenage girl and i love her for it

she's the daughter of gabrielle delacour and henri bardon, and she has a twin sister named annette who's in gryffindor. tbh natalia had a relatively easy and happy childhood. her parents cherished their children so much, showering them with love and affection. because she’s related to the delacour branch of the wotter family, she also grew up alongside them, eventually choosing to attend hogwarts in order to be closer to them. honestly, natalia could not have asked for a better family, and she loves them more than anything.

[ SEXUALIZATION OF A MINOR TW ] although she's only one-eighth veela, it was still enough to make a difference. natalia grew up being called beautiful --- by her friends, by strangers, by her family. but unfortunately, that beauty would have its consequences. even though her parents tried their best to shelter her, she was sexualized from a young age, especially by older men. and of course, there were always assumptions. assumptions purely based on her appearance and her interests, that she's shallow and vain and stupid and easy. she's been called everything at some point simply because she cares so much about fashion and makeup and popularity and romance. [ END TW ]

it's reached the point where natalia feels as though she has nothing else to offer the world but her appearance, that it's all she's good for. outside of her family, she's not often praised for much else. she's always been abysmal at schoolwork, and she has little direction in life, constantly changing her interests and passions like a chameleon. she doesn't really have a strong sense of self? and she has no idea what she wants to do once she graduates school. because so many other people assume that she's superficial, she plays into it at this point, believing herself to truly be shallow. she can talk your ear off about anything, but a lot of the things she says are kind of vapid or frivolous. but every now and then she shocks people with a really perceptive comment because she's actually far from stupid, and due to her emotional nature, she's very good at reading people.

she's never quite felt like she was enough? especially compared to her sister annie. this was born out of nothing other than her own insecurities, and it's really not true, but to natalia, annie was always the one who everything seemed to fall in love with, who everyone wanted to be friends with. nat does have her fair share of friends, but usually people seem to gravitate towards annie more. and she loves her sister more than anything, she'd do anything for her, but sometimes she feels out-shadowed by her. this was only cemented when they were sorted in different houses. annette was brave enough to be sorted into gryffindor, but as much as she wanted to be with her, she was sorted into hufflepuff instead. the house of the left overs. the spares. the rest. don't get her wrong, she loves her housemates and she supports her house’s values to a fault, but she can't help but feel like it's confirmation that she's not enough.

[ EATING DISORDER AND UNDERAGE SEX TW ] because she's willowy and pretty, when she was little, she was approached by agents who begged her parents to let her model for them. and she was also a ballet dancer for a while. she relished in the praise of both, but after a while, she began to crack under the pressure. although these activities was not the true underlying cause of her anorexia, it was the catalyst of it, what spurred them on. ( the true cause of her eating disorder was her need for control, her compulsions, her longing to be perfect. eventually this caused her ed to manifest itself. ) 

of course, her family was attentive enough to eventually notice, and she was hospitalized. at this point, she's in recovery and has made a lot of progress although she had to quit both modeling and ballet because the environment was not conducive to her recovery. she truly misses it sometimes, as they were one of the few things she's excelled at, but if she's being honest, she loves fashion and would probably prefer designing clothes as to modeling them.

because she's so insecure, she's really self destructive ( as shown by her disordered thinking ). even though she’s in recovery, she still has self destructive thoughts and behaviors --- they’ve simply taken different forms. she gets her heart broken a lot. she has a habit of the awful habit of falling head over heels for boys who don't treat her well or love her back, and she's not really introspective enough to realize why, but part of it has to do with the fact that she doesn't love herself or thinks she's worthy of love, so she's subconsciously choosing boys that will ultimately break her heart, that she knows are just using her for sex. she sleeps around a lot, and because she's desperate for validation, the sex feels good in the moment, so good, but afterwards she's left feeling so empty. [ END TW ] 

but much like her twin sister, she loves romance novels and romcoms and dreams of being loved back someday. the problem is, she needs to gain some perspective and learn to love herself first and treat herself right before that can ever happen.

the thing about natalia is that she's really gregarious and loves being around people. she hates being alone tbh, which is probably partly due to the fact that she grew up with a twin and around the wotters? she's very bubbly and loves to party -- of course even since the war has started, she's been doing a lot of that and a lot more crying rip. but i think she's the type of person to be popular and maybe part of a typical clique of gossipy mean girls even though she's more of a follower than a leader, you know? not really a regina and more of a karen. she's not naturally mean but she cares about popularity and being accepted and could easily get swept up in that. and sometimes she can be rather dramatic and lash out at people, she's a teenage girl.

she's reluctantly joined mcgonagall's army, mostly because her sister and the majority of her extended family is fighting for that side. she absolutely aligns with their beliefs, but the problem is she's not really a fighter and isn't meant for war? she doesn't like the thought of hurting anyone and she doesn't want to die, she's terrified tbh.

she’s known for being happy-go-lucky and optimistic. however, her outward appearance doesn’t always reflect her internal emotions. truthfully, natalia doesn’t really like to talk about her issues, mostly because she feels as though they’re so inconsequential to everyone else’s? she doesn’t want to trouble anyone with her silly teenage problems, so she’ll put on a happy face for everyone else’s sake, try to be a bright light in the darkness that has become their world.

she loves animals!!! she has so many pets -- cats and dogs and horses. care of magical creatures is one of her best classes. because of her love for animals, she was a vegan for years until she started her eating disorder recovery. recently went back to being a vegan but her family and her healers are keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn't rebound. she also regularly sees a therapist.

she's part of art club and loves photography and painting -- she's actually really good at it even though she doesn't see herself as good and never really shows her work to anyone.

she's also part of frog choir and can carry a tune. she has a pretty voice and often does karaoke with the delacours, thriving off of the attention she gets when everyone’s watching her solos.

her other favorite class is divination, and even though she might not be a seer, she's pretty good at it because she truly believes in it and also has a flair for drama. like her sister annette, she really loves astrology.

she’s really fascinated by old hollywood too -- marilyn monroe, aubrey hepburn, elizabeth taylor, vivien leigh, etc.

only taking three newt classes: divination, comc, and charms. not really sure at all what she's going to do with those newts once she graduates but the rest of her owl scores were abysmal.

basically, she has a lot of interests and things she's good at, but she's just sort of lost and doesn't really know who she is yet nor does she have much self confidence. she ends up becoming a fashion designer later in life, but she hasn’t really allowed herself to properly pursue that dream just yet.

#iidyintro #finally i did another one #( &. little girls who wish on stars don’t last long on the ground | ABOUT. )

[logo-comics]

BNHA: Into The Deku-Verse

Having seen Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, I would like to present the following idea:

BNHA: Into the Deku-Verse.

Starring:

The Second Vigilante Deku: Quirk: Rewind- She can revert a person to a previous state with a touch at her Quirk’s weakest, and at its strongest, she can affect anyone in her proximity. The New, twelve years old Deku of Earth 4, Eri is still learning the ropes as she dons the bunny ears and smiling visage of the fallen vigilante. Her initial costume consists of a green hoodie, a pair of green bunny ears, and a “smiling” mouthguard, alongside his spare grapnel gun and utility belt. She has somehow suppressed her Quirk to the point that people would have been surprised to find out that she had one. Having rescued her from the Eight Precepts when he was sixteen, Izuku Midoriya had personally trained her in how to fight with staves and whatever tools she could find, so that she didn’t have to get in close, due to her fear of using her Quirk to erase people, as well as teaching her how to analyze her surroundings. She is determined to see his final mission through and, in order to keep his memory alive, has opted to wear a costume that is designed as a tribute to her savior. She has recently started making her own notebooks.

The Trusted Vigilante Deku: Quirk: None. The Original Deku of Earth 4, Izuku Midoriya had become the most famous vigilante in Japan, well-known and popular for being an effective hero. Starting from the age of fourteen, his career and life ended at the age of twenty-two when he attempted to destroy a particle accelerator that the League of Villains was attempting to use for their own purposes. His costume consisted of a Kevlar jacket and pants, red steel-toed boots, a motorcycle helmet with his signature “rabbit ears” and painted-on smile, a utility belt full of different cheap gadgets and the like, a collapsible staff, and a grapnel gun. A master of parkour and a student of martial arts, as well as a swift analyst, he was a master of quick escapes and making use of his surroundings. His elaborate notebooks on Quirks and other such information are, alongside the mission to destroy the accelerator and all the data they possessed, are all Eri has left of her mentor.

The Shady Vigilante Deku: Quirk: None. The Deku of Earth 9, Izuku Midoriya is an infamous vigilante, who the police and public distrust due to his assertion that he is Quirkless, which leads to them assuming that he is a liar and a charlatan. Starting from the age of fourteen, his career has continued for two years by this point, leaving him with a bit of a chip on his shoulder about Quirks. His costume consists of a Kevlar jacket and pants, steel-toed boots, a motorcycle helmet with his signature “rabbit ears” and painted-on smile that’s faded, a utility belt full of different cheap gadgets and the like, a collapsible staff, and a grapnel gun. A master of parkour and a student of martial arts, as well as a swift analyst, he is a master of quick escapes and making use of his surroundings. His notebooks on Quirks and other such information are lacking in the wonder that the older editions once held. All of his equipment looks scuffed and like they should break, but they’re solid. He just stopped caring about appearances. On the whole, he looks like he’s had very little sleep, but the sound of his pen clicking shut still manages to strike fear in the hearts of villains. Some even say that the click of his pen was the last thing that Overhaul heard before the explosion that destroyed his lab and his hands. The little girl in UA’s care after the incident has a particular affinity for the color green.

The Underground Hero Yamikumo: Quirk: None. The Deku of Earth 25, Akatani Mikumo is, at the age of 18, a Hero, legally speaking. Clad in a dark grey, bulletproof jumpsuit that looks vaguely unsettling that still has the signature “bunny ears” on the cowl, a utility belt that has a pouch for his notebook and pen, and a scowling mouthguard, his fighting style relies on jumps, kicks and contortionism to maintain an unnatural presence. His primary weapons are his environment, steel-toed boots, and a meticulously cleaned and polished combat knife, while his preferred venue is any dark alley. Originally bearing the hero name Deku, he changed it later down the line after losing an eye during a rescue operation that left the Eight Precepts in ruins and a little girl in the care of one Shouta Aizawa. New eye was provided by Support Class.

The Toon Hero Deku: Quirk: Crash Test Deku- Possessing an unparalleled healing Quirk, he can heal from practically any injury. The Deku of Earth 7, Izuku Midoriya is a sixteen-year-old Hero Student at UA who has the lowest sense of self-protection of any of his counterparts. His costume is a green jumpsuit with a smiling mouthguard and a green-painted bunny ears headband. Friend and Official Test Dummy of one Mei Hatsume, he’s frequently seen with prototypes of her tech at various stages, because he is not afraid of dying. Picked up by Nighteye’s agency out of curiosity, he played an essential role in the rescue of his world’s Eri, as his Quirk repairing his body to its proper state kept him from being destroyed by either of their Quirks. Once his teammate, Lemillion, got Eri to safety, Deku finished the fight by playing the “Who Can Survive a Massive Explosion” Game and winning, albeit losing one of his notebooks in the process.

The Polite Hero Dekiru: Quirk: All For One- With a touch, he can give or take Quirks from others. The Deku of Earth 27, Izuku Midoriya is the sixteen-year-old natural-born son of the villain of the same name. Fighting relatively Quirkless, Izuku will usually only use his Quirk when fighting against an opponent that is a danger to themselves or others with their own Quirk. His costume is a green jumpsuit with white, bulky gloves and red steel-toed boots. Occasionally, he’ll borrow a Quirk from his fellow Heroes, but that requires a lot of paperwork after the fact. Because of his now-infamous father, there are a lot of restrictions for the use of his Quirk. Despite this, he served a vital role in the downfall of the Eight Precepts and the sound of him opening or shutting his notebook causes his foes and some of his allies to flinch.

The Green-Eyed Hero Deku: Quirk- Unregistered. The Deku of Earth 12, Izuku Midoriya is a sixteen year old inhabitant of a world that has only recently reached that historical point where society was on the verge of collapse. A unifying figure was needed. Enter a figure wearing a green hoodie with the hood up, a black bandana over his mouth, red tennis shoes, and black gloves, whose primary weapons are a pen and notebooks. As he fights without displaying any obvious Quirk, but still manages to hold his own in any fight, no one is certain of what his Quirk is, but with the smile drawn on his bandana and the word “HERO” spray-painted onto his hoodie, this mysterious figure quickly brought about a sense of order by virtue of his kindness and helpfulness, as well as his impressive skill at figuring out how people could make use of their Quirks for general utility purposes or for heroics. It’s said that his pen clicking open is one of the most comforting sounds a person could hear, and the sound of either it clicking shut or him slamming his notebook shut fills the hearts of Yakuza and budding supervillains with dread.

#bnha #into the deku verse