#and they go through hell together (the expectations of leading the kingdom an trials)

[ckneal]

Sometimes I need to remind myself that not everyone watched Supernatural with an ongoing gen fic happening in their head, all about the family life of the angels before Chuck’s disappearance and the rise of humanity. And as such, not everyone was constantly compiling stray details thrown out about the angel characters, clustering them together into this rubber band ball of ideas that was just so fun to play with.

I mean, for instance, not everyone took in the way the other angel characters seemed to look down their noses at the cupid characters (who, it’s worth noting, are never once referred to by their individual names, but instead by the human pet name for their category of cherub [which in Lucifer’s case, was certainly framed as an unflattering term], despite Castiel once boasting that he knew everyone in Heaven), and reason to themselves that it was surely because the other angels were jealous. Because obviously, the cupids are given classified information from God himself about what bloodlines he wants to see continued and merged for the sake of his Plan, putting these silly, non-combatant angels on par with the archangels in terms of secret knowledge about what was to come. For the first couple billions of years of existence, while the other classes of angels were sitting around with nothing to do, they all had to watch the cupids happily zipping around the earth, cooing over blue-green algae and gradually coaxing different species into existence with their magic love arrows. And every time a significant milestone was reached, they also had to watch as the insipid little harbingers of love scooped the newborn creature up and raced over to the nearest archangel to excitedly show them their progress, like a little kid with their first art project. And the archangel in question, regardless of which one, would nod encouragingly and smile as the cupid in question babbled about the tiny, tiny lungs this fish had, or the beginnings of feet at the ends of its fins. Even Lucifer, who would also add the additional suggestion to try and give the next one more teeth.

Additionally, not everyone looked at the way that Lucifer was able to just insert himself into Sam’s head from inside the cage, and considered how Azazel needed to visit a specific geographic location to communicate with Lucifer, and even then was only just barely able to do so, and thus came to the conclusion that clearly Michael and Lucifer must have come to an agreement to pool their powers to project Luci’s image into Sam’s head. Which explains why Sam’s special link disappears right after leaving the cage, and also why Michael didn’t interfere when Lucifer was freed, even though season 15 makes it clear that Luci did not sneak quietly out the backdoor. Michael was fully aware who was responsible for the jailbreak, thus leading us to consider that perhaps Lucifer was supposed to turn around and free Michael and Adam in turn, but did not. Thus leading us to imagine Michael spending roughly a year (Earth time) tapping his foot in the cage, until . . .

“He’s not coming back for us, is he?”

And Adam, cracking open a molecule-flavored soda (manifested courtesy of Michael), snickers. “Nope. Told you not to trust him.”

“Right. . .” Michael exhales, looks around for a moment, settles on side-eyeing Adam. Then, with an air of ‘fuck it’ says, “Want to make out?”

And Adam promptly chokes on his soda.

And not everyone heard Metatron specifically say that he personally tattooed the names of every prophet of the Lord ever on the inner eyelids of every angel, and immediately had the thought, “Poor Michael” spring to mind. Because of course Michael was the first one on the proverbial chopping block, trying his best not to flinch as his little brother gradually figured out how to handle the needle. (To this day, Michael is still not sure if the prophet after Chuck Shurley is named Kevin Tran or Rovim Frun). And all the while, Michael was probably also trying his best not to worry about how things were going on Earth while he was busy getting his eyes stabbed.

After all, Lucifer was God’s second eldest son, barely younger than Michael in the grand scheme of things. He could handle watching over their younger siblings for a little while. And Raphael and Gabriel were there to help. Everything would be fine.

However, Michael isn’t aware that about five minutes after being left in charge, Lucifer yelled, “HEY EVERYONE, CHECK THIS OUT!” And then promptly threw his grace into the body of a nearby pterodactyl. Possession being a new ability that Chuck had recently invented, the surrounding angels were mystified as Lucifer piloted the prehistoric reptile through a series of dizzying loop-de-loops that saw the poor creature—not suited to containing angel grace—explode midway through, leaving Lucifer gleefully giggling in the sky.

About half of the angels looking on gaped in horror.

Gabriel whispered to Raphael, “We’re still beta testing that, right?”

The other half of the gathered angels, however, like the impressionable young followers that they are, start grinning, because Lucifer is grinning, and he’s their cool older brother, and as Lucifer—relishing the attention—makes a beeline toward the earth’s one continent, Pangea, and an unsuspecting herd of ornithopods, these younger angels eagerly follow.

Soon, Earth is full of the anguished cries of cupids, watching their hard work blown to bits again and again. Swept up in the crowd, are Castiel and Balthazar. They watch Uriel and Zachariah excitedly throw their armored dinosaur bodies against one another in the moments before both vessels combust, after which Uriel and Zachariah excitedly dart off to take on new ones.

“Are we sure this is. . .okay?”

“Well, Lucifer is in charge. We’re supposed to follow his lead. . .aren’t we?”

Meanwhile, Raphael is frantically trying to stem the carnage. Several dinosaurs are levitating in mid-air, as Raphael tries to simultaneously keep them from exploding while also ordering the angels possessing them to vacate the vessels immediately. But none of them have ever taken a vessel before, and do not know how to get out of them without tearing them apart. Raphael keeps expanding their powers to more and more creatures as their young siblings continue to follow Lucifer’s example.

“GABRIEL, DO SOMETHING!”

“RIGHT!” Gabriel looks around, locates Lucifer running amuck in an apatosaurus that he’s forcing to walk on its hind legs, and fires off a lightning bolt to startle him out.

The lightning bolt misses its target in spectacular fashion, and several trees catch on fire.

Gabriel throws another lightning bolt.

“GABRIEL, THAT IS NOT HELPING!”

“RIGHT!”

Gabriel then grabs a giant meteor from outer space and begins trying to smother the flames by whacking it against the continent, to Raphael’s horror. More cupids begin to cry. Thick clouds of dust fly up, choking out natural light on the planet’s surface—now only illuminated by flames, as well as the magma that rises up out of the cracks that form in Pangea, as Gabe unintentionally creates the first tectonic plates from the sheer force of his assault on the planet.

Trees fall over. Fire continues to spread.

Lucifer is still in the apatosaurus, but he’s fallen onto his side, laughing hysterically.

“WATER, GABRIEL! USE WATER!”

“OH! RIGHT!”

Gabriel throws the meteor into a nearby sea, creating a tsunami.

It is at this point that Raphael abandons the dinosaurs to their sad fate, forgetting their solemn oath to not reveal any secrets regarding evolution and God’s plan, to broadly yell out to any and all of their angelic siblings who are listening, “QUICKLY, SAVE THE MAMMALS!”

And it is at this point, that Michael returns. Samandriel, clutching a dozen or so rodents in his wings, is the first one to spot him. All of Michael’s eyes are red and puffy from abuse. The cupids are sobbing, the Earth is battered, flooded, and scorched. Angels are getting into fist fights with reapers as they dart back and forth, trying to ferry as many warm-blooded creatures as they can find from the site of the catastrophe to the relative safety on the other side of the mountain range Gabriel accidently made when he bashed a crater into the planet—relative, as it turns out some of those new mountains are in fact volcanoes, and it took some trial and error to figure out how far away from an active volcano could be considered “safe.”

Nearby, Castiel and Balthazar are somehow both stuck inside the same mosasaur, beached from the tsunami, and loudly panicking as they struggle to de-possess it before it explodes. There’s a snapping sound, and then suddenly all of the angels still trapped (or willfully frolicking) inside vessels are ejected, at the same time that the fire goes out and the volcanoes cease erupting.

Consequently, everyone goes very still as Michael scans the damage and his bedraggled siblings. With humans not yet existing, the art of facepalming is not yet a thing. But looking at Michael, one might just expect him to invent the practice right then and there.

When Michael gets to Lucifer, he’s greeted with, “What? Pop’s 86-ing the lizard kingdom anyway!”

Michael promptly drags Lucifer off to Heaven.               

The next day, it was made an official rule, written into the very fabric of angelkind: vessels could only be taken after obtaining explicit consent.

Additionally, everyone agreed to never, ever mention the existence of the dinosaurs or how they ended ever again. And, rather than fixing the damage to the Earth’s surface, the tectonic plate situation was just sort of left to do as it would.

Many, many years later, Adam was shocked by Michael’s reaction when the cage door suddenly swung open in Hell. Adam had immediately surged to his feet in excitement, ready to leave and never come back.

Michael, however, remained stationary on the floor, squinting at the doorway, wondering what dystopian nightmare must be waiting on Earth after leaving his siblings unsupervised for a solid decade.

“Michael? You okay?”

“Adam, before we go back to Earth, I think I need to tell you a story. . .”

#himbos all of them #except raphael #raphael's doing their best but there's only one of them #the divine shurley family #is this really what i'm putting out on the midam wedding day? #yep guess so #i just didn't get any good wedding thoughts today #all i could think about was how michael was once a very exhausted older brother #today was not a romantic day for me #but it was chaotic #and i have expressed myself #and raphael deserves a raise #midam #supernatural michael #my thoughts #What did the rest of you guys even do to get through the boring seasons if you weren't imaging stuff like this?

[hollandroos]

Heaven and Hell | Pt.2

King Of Hell!Tom X Fallen Angel!Reader - READ PART 1 HERE

Summary: Who would’ve assumed that heavens little angel was the king of hells soulmate?

Words: 4.5k 

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety. This series plays around with religion a rather large amount. 

Collaboration with another author but she deleted, so I took to editing it and changing a few concepts so bare with me!  | THIS CHAPTER WAS EDITED / PARTS WERE REWRITTEN AND REPOSTED ON 10/05/2019

"For the first time ever, he'll know kindness and gratitude. Through his gift, the king will learn what it is to feel something other then hatred.”

You wake up and the first thing you notice is that your head is pounding– it’s excruciating, like someone’s knocking a hammer against your brain or sticking a pin between each of your eyes. You groan, rubbing the space that was aching the most. It feels like what the mortals would call a hangover… only worse. With that knowledge in mind and the fact that you weren’t in your own bed, your hands fly down to your chest where your dress still sits and you let out a sigh of relief.

Sitting up, you notice that the room isn’t white or a gentle blue and Instead it’s dark, with black wallpaper lining the walls and wooden floorboards. Red flames line the walls, illuminating the room and slowly you sit up until bare feet, once scratched up and blistered adjust to the flooring and the first thing you notice other then the interior is that it’s hot, therefore your little trip wasn’t a dream and you were still in hell. You were awaiting your bitter ending.

You swallow. Then think. Take a moment to taste the fear and anxiety on your tongue and shudder.

A glass of water sits beside the bed and though your throat was screaming at you to drink some – even just a sip, you push that to the back of your mind and ignore the glass. You didn’t want to find out what they put in the ‘water’ they gave to trespassing angels just yet. It could easily be a poison that’d put you through an eternity of excruciating pain or send you waves of terrible dreams that would wake you up screaming to the point where your throat would be red and raw and voice scratchy.

Being the rather nosey angel you are, you look around the room and only happen to glance into the rubbish bin where you see wrappers belonging to bandages, bloody tissues and a few other things. You screw your face up, looking away as quickly as you glanced down. Still, you couldn’t understand why they were making a big fuss out of cleaning you up if they were going to put you through extreme trials that would eventually lead to the end of your existence.

It was a miracle you had even surprised the fall. A goddamn wonder you’d made it even five minutes surrounded by bloodthirsty demons who had swung their knives around you like you were their next meal.

Shaking your head, you observe your surroundings further. The room was much too big for your liking and especially one that simply contained a large, king sized bed, bedside table, cabinet and mirror. But the colours sent shivers down your spine. While everything was white and the odd time a pale blue in Heaven, you noticed that Hell prefered deep, crimson red, black and grey. 

Everything was dark, accented with colours that’d be forbidden in heaven and flames lit up the halls. Even this room that you had figured was where medical treatment was carried out for the Kings inner circle had a bright flame on each wall. You'd never seen a fire in your life before today, it was prohibited in Heaven, the council demanding that it was too dark. 

However, you lift your hand, fingers stretching upwards as you ran one through the fire. Despite the awful rumours you heard about the stuff. You don't feel anything, not even a slight burn as they sat in the middle of the flame. The sight was hypnotic, really and you stare lustfully toward the flame that kisses your fingertips.

Next, you find yourself staring into a connecting bathroom where a rather large bath sits, already full and you slip your bottom lip in between your teeth. You were dirty with a little bit of dried blood still seeping between bandages and there was still ash stuck between your feathers. A dirty angel wasn’t a good angel. Every angel hated feeling dirty, there was nothing worse and in Heaven, nothing more disrespectful.

You shudder, feeling the ashes rubbing between feathers and as you move, you feel the blood, stiff and wine red against your cheeks.

A bath sounded lovely. But you shouldn’t – but you absolutely could.

Looking back towards the bed you’d woken up in, you debate going back where you’d wait for someone to collect you. But your entire body hurt and beneath plenty of bandages, you knew there was bound to still be wounds that were yet to heal. Your muscles were tense and the bath looked so inviting with a thin layer of bubbles on top. The smell of lavender wafts around the room, much different to the grotesque burning you’d endured earlier. So hesitantly, you step in, nearly jumping as bare toes touch the marble flooring. 

Angels are always cautious, sometimes too cautious and that peaks as you triple check that the connecting door was locked before you peel the thin dress over your head, only wincing when you extend your arms and the fabric brushes against your feathers. It made you feel gross because by now the once white dress was many different shades of grey and red.

Water moves around your figure as you sit in the deep bathtub, ending where your neck began. You had never had a warm bath, always cold. The hot water had run out in heaven by the time you were allowed to bathe causing you to wash yourself in freezing cold water, shivering as the luffa would come in contact with your skin. 

But now you were bathing in warmth. It felt like a hug, but... the best hug you could possibly imagine – that was, once you overcame the initial pain that came with dipping semi-fresh wounds into hot water, bubble bath disinfecting what the demon had missed.

Soapy suds move around your legs as they drew into your chest. You stare at the wall, dumbfounded at what was happening. Surely this was a trick, a trick to get angel's hopes up before they were almost destroyed.

Like… some kind of last meal. Only you were getting pampered.

By now, you had expected to be screaming, each feather on your wings being torn from your back. That's what you were told would happen to angels when they reached hell. You pictured the king as ugly, as a cruel and wicked monster but he definitely was not– or at least from what you’d seen so far. You’d simply been mesmerized by him from the very curl of his lips to the curls upon his head.

He had spoken to you so gently, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud you’d crumble and you knew that after everything you’d endured that you wouldn’t but he had been hesitant. Even when he ghosted fingertips through the ends of knotted hair and instructed that you get taken straight to the med bay. But you were long passed out by then. Too long gone to hear even the slightest bit of concern that laced his voice.

Even Harrison had gaped at the small inkling of concern evident in his best mate.

Your wrists move up your legs and you catch a black mark on your wrist. Inspecting the mark closer, your eyes widening and you want to scream – maybe you should’ve screamed. It was a crown, plain and simple and with a gasp you shove your hand back into the water, scrubbing the skin roughly underneath the water to the point where you swore it was going to turn sickly red. And it did, you scrubbed your wrist until it was raw. 

Emerging it from the from warm water, the little crown still clear as day much to your dismay. You suck in your breath, more fears then you worried you’d be able to handle seeping into your chest. Angels weren’t meant to endure stress and you’d taken in more at times then what some angels did in a lifetime. So you could handle this, right? 

Of course it was. Everyone in the underworld has tattoos, however, they called them marks. Marks that signified sin. You figured that the tattoo meant you were his, you were now in his kingdom forever. That this tattoo appeared on every angel who fell down to the depths. Only you couldn't be more wrong.

Sighing and slipping further back into the water, you allow your hair to float around you in perfect formation. Relax, they haven't killed you yet. You try. Only that doesn’t halt the panic that races through your veins at lightning speed. 

It was hard to relax though, you were trapped in a foreign place with people you didn't know... who didn't know you either. All you knew was that they were powerful, ruthless and wouldn't hesitate when it came to snapping your neck or taking your wings and you’d already hurt one of them.

- “I’ve never seen you act so soft before.”

Harrison Osterfield was a long time friend of Toms. They’d stuck by each other's sides since they were younger, rarely ever separating and it was what made the two of them so strong. By themselves… sure, you’d be stupid to try and fight even one of them and you’d die before even laying a hand on the demons but together they were beyond lethal. They had done things that would make the angels weep at the thoughts. 

“I’m not going soft,” Tom shakes his head, staring down at the old book he’d managed to dig up out of his father's old belongings. His mind kept wavering to the little angel sleeping in one of his spare rooms down the hall. “I just… I don’t know what happened. It was only a split second.” 

Harrison chews on a grape, legs kicked up on the table and if it were anyone else Tom would’ve had them banished. The dining room in the kingdom was wide and the two boys sat at a rather large table with a beautiful rug beneath it. A flame was lit, lighting up the table, colour licking Toms already highlighted cheeks only emphasising his cheekbones.

“So explain it to me again, I’m having a hard time… processing it all.” Harrison mutters with furrowed brows. His words are slightly muffled as he bites into another grape, chewing on the delight as he waits for Tom to answer.

“You and me both” Tom groans, finding nothing to do with what he was looking for. The book only seemed to speak nonsense to the demon. “Me and her, I think we’re part of a prophecy. It’s one my dad used to tell me a lot but I thought it was just a story.” Tom stops, wetting his lips before he continues. “He used to tell me a story about a gift, something to give me – or the king strength and she did that, I felt it straight away and I felt her. I felt her pain and her fear.”

“I just don’t understand, The prophecy can’t be an angel, it's supposed to give you power." Harrison looks at him, sitting in utter disbelief. "If it’s meant to be a gift then wouldn’t it be an item?"

“I was fading away before she came, muttering nonsense and I couldn’t even roll over. It’s barely been six hours and all ounce of life has returned to me. It has to be her, there’s no other explanation.” Tom slams the book shut, finding nothing about the story he was so used to hearing as a child. He begins to wonder if Harrison was right and his dad had made the stories up. “Plus, I can’t even imagine hurting her– ever, and I’m a demon, hurting people is what I do. I think I’d rather snap my own neck then lay a hand on the angel.”

Harrison was gobsmacked as he listened, almost wondering if his best friend had gone utterly mad. 

“Are you sure your illness just hasn’t gone to your head?” He stifles his chuckles at Toms hard glare and straightens up. "Doesn't mean you're stronger, you're just the way you should be. Maybe you just got better, Tom, that happens you know?"

Tom let out a breath as one of his servants put down a tray of fruit on the table after Harrison had so selfishly eaten all Toms lunch. Not that he minded, there were tons more where it came fron, but with a wicked smirk, the king looks at the server and immediately, the small demon was pressed against the wall, gasping for breath. Harrison's eyes widen. 

"Fuck." he breathes as Tom feels that familiar rush of adrenaline rush through him. 

Applying more pressure before he let go of the demon with his mind. He falls to the floor, scrambling back onto his feet before running out of the room, not even turning to look back at his king as he did so. Tom feels power bubbling in the pit of his stomach, something he had long let go of since coming down with his illness.

"I told you, she's part of that prophecy," Tom smirks grabbing a grape from the pile of fruit. He bites into it, the sweet taste exploding between sharp teeth. Sweet, just like the angel that had fallen into a dull corner of hell. 

Sweet, just like the small glimmer of hope he’d seen adorn her eyes before she’d passed out, stumbling against him.

Sweet, just like your voice. Though you were hurt and fearful (and he could feel every ounce) you spoke as smooth as honey. Sugary, sweet, teeth rotting honey.

"Great then. She's also an angel." Harrison looks at his king. "So gain whatever power you’re talking about then get rid of her." He mutters. Harrison speaks carelessly shrugging in his button up, raven shirt. Tom narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t allow his anger to consume him. Not when it came to his best friend. 

“One more word about her and It’s your neck I’ll be snapping in two,” Tom replies harshly, biting into yet another seedless fruit taken straight from the mortal world. "She isn't meant to be used, Harrison." Tom looks at him. "If she leaves, my power leaves. I go back to being sick and bedridden and that is the last thing I want right now." Harrison let out a breath.

"Then lock her up—" He starts.

"She will not be treated as a prisoner. She..." Tom wets his lips, tasting the sweet remains of his snack. "I'm connected to her."

"Connected?" Harrison raised his eyebrows.

"Whenever she was in pain I felt it." Tom glared at him. "The bruises that formed on my skin were placed on hers first." He explained. A wave of anger ran through him when he thought of her with a single bruise on her skin but now she was littered in many from her fall. 

Harrison's eyes widen. “If you’re right and this is all some kind of... wild thing I let myself believe then you can say I told you so, but let me see if I’m right before you start with your shit.”

"You’re gonna fall in love with her, and what do you think will happen then? Do you think they’ll still want you on the throne? You’re putting yourself in danger – she’ll become a weakness." He whispers as if love was suddenly forbidden in hell – because it surely wasn’t. 

His father had adored his mother greatly, falling in love with her easily. However, it still wasn’t the best thing for the king of hell.

Tom nods his head, eyes hardened as he steps out of his chair. “If I do then so be it. My people can deal with it and if they can’t? We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I need to go and see the angel.”

- When Tom knocks three times and you don’t answer, he pushes the door open. He would’ve let himself grow worried for your lack of response if not for the fact that he could feel your presence. You were an odd mixture of calm and panicked and he didn’t allow himself to measure which feeling outweighed the other. He did, however, let the feelings simmer long enough to feel something else. Something he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Tom feels the flames licking his cheeks as he steps into the room you’d been placed in. He placed you there – on the single bed, that is, and had watched as the demons set to work, bandaging and holding ice to your wounds. He’d watched with his teeth practically piercing his gums as they cleaned rocks out of your fingers and hair. He watched with piercing eyes to make sure no one got too close or hung around for too long. 

He watches without a word, paying little mind to the energy that somehow runs through his veins – nor the fact that he was visibly growing more powerful by the minute. For he stares curiously, trying to decipher why you had the odd black wing tucked beneath your white – now ashy grey ones. And he asks himself with no answer why you had no halo. All angels had a hallow. It was a sign of their purity.

Now, the covers were drawn back but the cup of water sat untouched. The blinds were still drawn and there was no sign of an escape. He hates that word – escape. It made it sound like you were a prisoner which you weren’t. There is, however, a closed bathroom door.

But not even a second later it opens and you step out. Wearing merely a cotton towel instead of the tattered and torn gown he’d seen you in last. 

You jump apon spotting the demon, letting out a small noise of shock – if you could even call it that and Tom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Hi,” He speaks. 

Though his small ‘hi’ sounds more like a question as he tests the waters and when you don’t respond, merely look down at your uncovered, blistered feet he speaks up again. “You can talk to me, you know? I won’t bite.”

Your mouth feels so dry and you were yet to have a drink or even try speaking after the fall. But it’s not that that keeps your lips sealed shut as if they’d been superglued. It was the fact that this was him. And it’s not like your sudden fear goes unnoticed too. Because Tom feels it and while the weight on his chest doesn’t necessarily affect him, he’s aware that you currently want to disappear. He’s aware that he scares you yet he shouldn’t and he wishes that he didn’t.

Your heart is thumping in your chest, ears ringing and your palms grow clammy, though that may have been due to the extraordinary heat.

“You probably will.” Your voice is small, merely a squeak and Tom resist the urge to chuckle. 

“I promise I won’t, yeah?” It’s a promise that the King swears to keep. Something that didn’t happen often. “Want to tell me how you got here, darling? Because it’s not every day that angels just jump into Hell.”

Tom smiles, noticing you’d taken advantage of the warm bath he’d run you. He hoped you liked the bubbles too, and the scent he’d stolen from Harrison's room. Your hair was still hanging in wet strands but it was cleaner then before, no longer an ugly ashy colour, and the wine stain coloured blood has left your cheeks but there’s bruises – most definitely. They line your legs and your back, trekking up your arms and the grazes still prevent you from intertwining your hands together.

“I didn’t jump, I fell.” You correct him. You speak up a little more this time, though your gaze still remains on the floor instead of the handsome demon. Tom takes one step forward and you take one step back. “On purpose?”

“I… don’t know.” You answer, genuinely having difficulty remembering what had happened moments before you fell. Everything was a blur and as it was, you still had decided that you liked Hell more then Heaven.

Tom furrows his brows, knotting a set of hands together behind his back. “Were you pushed?”

“No– no way, I wasn’t pushed.” You shake your head, lifting your gaze just enough to spot him for a second before snapping it back to the floor. Cheeks heat up, rising to the temperature of the room though that could either be due to your body adjusting to the heat or spotting the look on the king's face. Catching your short glimpse, he allowed his lips to curl up in a cheeky, semi-grin. 

“Enough about this for now. Your name, it’s Y/N, correct?” Tom prompts. “How do you know my name?” Your eyes widen, wings hiding away behind your back. 

Tom steps forward again. Only this time you don’t step back. You’re not scared by the energy he projects. It’s not dangerous – or at least it doesn’t feel dangerous. He hasn’t got you shaking into the cotton towel or begging for your life much as you’d expected. Instead, you hardly budge. 

“Darling, I’m the king of Hell, I know everything.” He replies coyly. “I’m Tom.” The king holds his hand out, waiting for you to shake it and you glance at his outstretched hand with much hesitation. Surely he was going to shock you – or break your arm when you took his hand at the least. You wait for him to lower his hand, but seeing your unmoving form Tom keeps his hand outstretched and deciding that it was now or never, you carefully take his hand.

Nothing happens. Nothing. He only guides your intertwined hands up and down a few times before letting go and you’re positively gobsmacked. A wave of relief washes over you, one that’s felt by the two of you. Absolutely nothing happens but surely he had to be plotting something, right? He was the king of the underworld, a demon and practically a god.

Wrong. Tom bites back a smile, mind the clearest it’d been in months and saying he felt sparks when he took your hand was far too cliche – especially for the king. So he merely stares blankly, ignoring the evident sparks that’d shot up his hand as he took yours. And he ignores the temptation to do it again.

“Tom.” You speak softly, testing the name out. He basks in the sound of his name falling from your lips so clearly. It slips past your lips like honey, floating sweetly through the room. Feeling his eyes practically boring holes into you, you pull the towel closer to your body, hugging your arms against your chest. “If you don’t mind, I need to… I should…”

Directing your gaze to the set of clothes that had been left sitting on the edge of the bed, Tom gapes. You’re stepping around him carefully, hardly making a noise as you creep, every move more calculated then the last.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll let you get changed.” He says. But he doesn’t move yet. Tom watches as you creep towards the bed – slowing down on the way over only to touch the burning flames that keep the room lit. He expects you to wince – to retreat your hand into your chest but your fingers dance around the flame, playing a sick game. He hardly makes it out of the room. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Tom continued to watch intently, as you let your fingers play with the flame. Something that could burn even some of the weakest Demons. Not him though, and apparently not you. From his bed, he could see your fingers that weren't even tinted red, no sign of burns as you pull it back. Retreating from the blaze.

"I-, No." Your voice was quiet but he heard clear as day.

He pressed again. "Not at all?"

You fiddled with your fingers. "Is it supposed too?"

Tom shook his head, of course it didn't hurt. You were supposed to spend your lifetime down there with him, surrounded by the scolding heat that sent some people insane. Demons and fallen angels alike. Of course you were immune and the sight impresses him to say the least.

Tom struts around with those raven wings, the ones you'd been shown photos of and warned to stay away from at all costs. Even laying a hand on the charcoal coloured feathers was said to cause excruciating pain but you don’t stop your wandering thoughts that wonder just for a second if what you’d been taught was true. The demons would corrupt you, they told you. But now you were standing mere meters in front of one and you felt the same as you did in Heaven.

Maybe Heaven was your Hell.

The brunette coughs. “I’ll leave now but… you're going to be eating dinner with me."

Your eyes widen in shock. "W-with you?" 

First, he offered a shower, then clean clothes that were free of any trace of Heaven and what they'd done to you, and now you were supposed to sit and eat?

He smirks. "That's what I said, was it not?"

"No, I just-,"

"What? Never eaten dinner with a demon before?" You shake your head, well duh. "Relax, my teeth will be biting into the food, not you." His comment makes all blood run to your cheeks  – you were seemingly hotter than the flames that you'd just touched, skin blazing.

You'd never eaten dinner with a demon, nor had you eaten with a king before and your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you stood in front of the king of hell that you'd met merely hours ago. Tom could hear every beat, feel every shake that racked your body.

"Relax." He muttered. "I won't hurt you, you're my-, my guest." He had to stop himself from saying what he desperately wanted to. 

You nod, "Do you uhh-, do you hurt your guests?"

"Usually." He shrugs. Only after does he notice your shudder. "But you're not just a guest." Tom corrects, his black shirt rising. "Get changed and I’ll get Harrison to come and grab you in ten.”

This had to be some kind of joke, surely he was leading you to your demise. He was going to feed you poison food. Put blades in between mashed potatoes and spit on whatever else would be put on your plate. Spit on it? You shake your head, that was weak. Surely the king of pain and punishment would do more.

You swallow, watching the door close behind him and release a quiet sob into the towel that belonged to the one person you were never supposed to converse with. It that felt wrong. Because that’s what you’d been told – that was how you’d grown up. Never once had you felt comfortable anywhere and Hell was no different. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

Three

Here’s my ask box - send feedback or maybe reblog if you’d like!!

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#tom holland #Tom Holland au #Tom Holland fanfic #Tom Holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #Tom Holland x reader insert #Tom Holland series #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland angst #Tom Holland imagines #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland oneshot #demon!tom #demon!tom holland

[swindlersstole]

For the kisses prompt lumineric 7 or 17 if it's ok?

hell YES it is absolutely ok

two quick disclaimers, I did pick 7 because that one came to me first… but the catch is it DID turn into an FF9 au (because if I like a ship I’m gonna make a 9 au out of it, it’s just the Cosmic Bear Order). specifically I’m going off of the ending of 9, so it might help to watch the ending first if you don’t already know how it goes (I started it off at the 18:10 mark on the video)

I’m gonna take a crack at 17 though when I figure out something aside from “get caught in rain” I promise you that at least

~

7. Slowly, while everyone is watching

It’s been a long time, Nova thinks, since he last saw a play.

His musings don’t go unnoticed. Once Hendrik and Krystalinda have announced themselves, salutes and all, they don’t waste any time in coming closer to the throne, and to his side. It’s rather comforting that Hendrik is all the more familiar with him now, though Nova doubts he’ll ever be as casual as Krystalinda, who places a hand on his shoulder without much thought. “Are you alright, dear boy?”

“Yes. I’m alright.” And he is, all things considered. “The theatre ship should be arriving any minute now.” Nova smiles. “I can’t wait to see everyone again.”

“And you’re sure about this, Your Majesty?” Hendrik has gotten better, but Nova supposes he couldn’t expect him to forgo all his knightly training. He would expect no less from the captain of the guard. “No one would think ill of you, should you need more time.”

But Nova shakes his head, wizened and serene. “No. If I keep pushing it aside, then I’ll never be ready.” He pauses a moment, to brush his hair back behind his ear. He’s been letting it grow out since then, brown tresses now only ghosting over his shoulders. “I have to let go of the past.”

Before Hendrik can speak again, the roaring sound of propellers cuts the conversation short. Above the castle balcony hangs the Salty Stallion, preparing to dock amidst the growing crowd, eager to see the upcoming show. Everyone in Dundrasil could do with some excitement. Everyone could do with some new, happy memories.

Nova looks up to the ship. Sylvando is at the bow, waving down at him with a grin so wide it could be seen from the heavens. He returns the gesture with gusto.

It won’t ever be the same, Nova thinks, his heart still heavy but healing every day, but I have to move on. Just like he taught me.

~

It is unsurprising, what the play chosen for tonight was going to be.

Nova isn’t sure what else he thought Sylvando would have organized, back when this whole event was scheduled. “It’s your favorite play, darling,” he had said, “and to be fair, we never did finish the show proper for your birthday. As far as I’m concerned, we owe our king this one!”

Nova had wanted to argue, but Sylvando is always insistent, and there was little point in fighting him. And when Sylvando steps out onto the stage front, he’s beaming with that same enthusiasm he had in the weeks prior. 

It sets Nova’s heart at ease. Some things don’t change, he supposes.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sylvando begins, “Tonight’s performance is a story that takes place long, long ago. Our heroine, Princess Serenica, is torn from her lover, Erdwin. She attempts to flee the castle, only to be captured by her father, King Morcant. Tonight’s story begins when Erdwin and Serenica decide to run away together.”

Sylvando begins to step back at the light dims, flourishing his exit with a bow. 

“And now, Your Royal Majesty, King Nova; Lord Hendrik; Lady Krystalinda…”

He rises up, both arms extended, and the crowd begins to cheer.

“…noble ladies and lords, and our rooftop viewers! The Soldiers of Smile proudly present–’I Want To Be Your Canary’!”

~

The play proceeds as expected, and Nova cannot express how happy he is to see Serena in the lead.

He supposes it’s not that surprising–she’s much more soft and sweet than her sister, better suited for such a bespoken role–but from the start of their travels, she was complacent in letting Veronica take center stage. Serena came into her own right through trials and error and tribulation, her voice stronger than ever before, and Nova is so proud to call her his friend.

“Erdwin?” She calls from the stage’s castle wall, coming down to the center stage to meet a man coming from the right. He’s cloaked, heavily so, and Nova can’t discern anything about him, but he’s seen the Soldiers of Smile before, and he knows it can only be Faris under the cloak.

“Sweet Erdwin,” Serena lets herself fall into Faris’ arms, and he cradles her head against his chest, “I fear I love thee more than I should!”

“Princess…” Faris speaks now, his voice more powerful than Nova recalls, but he thinks he has Sylvando to thank for that, “Wilt thou be happy, married to a lowly peasant such as I?”

“Prithee, call me ‘princess’ no more!” Serena lifted herself from Faris’ chest. “Erdwin, wilt thou truly cherish me, the king’s only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for?!”

Her excitement seems to be getting the better of her; Nova can see the way her lips curl for miles, even as she speaks such serious, sad words, “After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet–never to laugh, never to cry?”

Her head shakes, and Serena turns her face to the sky. “I wish to live my life under the sky. At times, I shall laugh, and at other times, cry. For no life is more insincere, than that lived as a masquerade.”

Faris laughs, and raises a hand from Serena’s shoulder to her cheek, drawing her face back to him. “Such consideration thou hast given it! But worry not!”

He draws Serena back into his arms, so soft, so eager. “Cast aside thy trappings of royalty, and I shall swaddle thee in a gown of pure love. Never again will I part from thee–pray, my love! Make me thy canary, to keep forever in the cage of your bosom.”

Nova hears the swoons from the audience below loud as day, as they both part once again. 

“Let us embark on the first ship tomorrow,” Faris continues, “before dawn can can tell of our elopement.”

“All my fortunes at thy feet, I lay,” Serena answers, “and I shall follow thee throughout the world!”

Faris begins to tread backward, to leave the stage once more, and he holds Serena’s hand as long as he can. “No cloud, no squall, shall hinder us!”

He releases her reluctantly, reaching for her even as he departs, leaving Serena alone on stage once more.

“O, love is the sweetest joy, and the wildest woe.” Serena falls to her knees, hands clutching at her heart. “All I wish… is to be by my sweet Erdwin’s side.”

She speaks wistfully, longing in her voice, and it’s strange, because suddenly, Nova truly understands those words now. And it stings all the more now, because he knows how this play ends.

On stage left, crouched behind the backdrop of stars, the wheels of this tragic tale have already begun to spin–but what Nova isn’t expecting is that Faris is the one to turn them.

“Fie!” He curses, and now Nova can’t even imagine why he thought he was playing Erdwin, “It shall be war again unless this marriage is stopped. Ne’er will I let their plan come to fruition.”

He stands from his hiding spot, and comes to center stage alongside Serena. He bows. “Good day to ye, Highness.”

Serena, rising from the ground, curtsies, cautiously. “Good day…”

“Wist thee of Erdwin?”

“Erdwin?!” She crosses the gap between them without a second thought, “What news dost thou bring?”

“This!”

Faris reels back his fist, and sends it down into Serena’s stomach. It isn’t a real strike, clearly, but the chorus of gasps from the audience make it seem all the more lifelike. And as Serena cries out and crumples into Faris’ arms, the stage goes dark, leaving Nova with far more questions than he’d anticipated.

~

When the lights come back on, they shine on Sylvando, who strides on stage every bit of the imposing king he’s meant to portray. “Where is she?!” He shouts. “Where has mine only daughter gone?!”

It doesn’t surprise Nova–even if the theatre troupe is a front, Sylvando has always taken that front very seriously–but it is strange to see such a jovial man so serious. He must be enjoying himself tonight, Nova thinks.

Faris enters the stage once more, descending from the staircase, and Sylvando turns to greet him. “Faris, good man! Hast thou seen Serenica?”

When Faris reaches the stage, he bows assuredly. “Worry not, Majesty. I shall make sure Serenica marries Prince Drustan. Be thou at ease.”

“At ease, sayest thou?” Sylvando retorts, “How can I rest, not knowing she is safe? Could it be…” He eyes Faris with a glare, “thou hast betrayed me?”

“By my troth, sir,” Faris asserts, “I betrayed none other than poor Erdwin!”

“Thou had the gall to betray thy dearest friend.” Sylvando snorts, and steps closer to Faris. “Would thou not betray me as swiftly?”

Faris takes a step back, panic beginning to fill his eyes. “Stay thy hand, I merely…”

But Sylvando does not stay his hand. He draws his sword, and strikes Faris down. Even knowing that it is fake, Nova cannot help but wince at the sight, as do many others in the audience below.

As Sylvando walks away from Faris’ crumpled from, Faris cries out with his last breath, “I merely sought a lasting peace between two kingdoms!”

Jade and Veronica arrive from both sides of the stage; Veronica’s hair has been hidden away into her hat, Nova notes, most likely to separate her from her sister.

“The traitor is dead!”

“O, cruel fate!”

But Sylvando does not give them the time to talk, and addresses them with a wave of his hand. “You two–quickly, find Serenica and bring her to me!”

Each girl addresses him with a bow–”Yes, Your Majesty.”–and are off just as quickly as they came.

“Wretched daughter!” Alone once more, save for Faris playing dead on the floor, Sylvando turns to the audience as the stage turns black again. “How dare she disobey her father’s wishes!”

~

When the stage lights again, the play is in it’s final scene. 

Or at least, so Nova believes it to be. He knows this play so well, reading it cover to cover endlessly over the course of his life, but this scene, with the painted sky of two moons and the encroaching dawn, are unfamiliar to him. Erdwin–who he can only assume now is being played by Dave, because Nova can think of no one else–awaits on stage, alone, for Serenica. 

Sylvando, it seems, has taken artistic liberty, which isn’t uncommon for a play so old. Nova supposes he understands the excitement now.

“The time for our departure is long past.” Erdwin speaks. “Where is Serenica?”

As fate would have it, from stage left comes Dave, and now Nova is finally out of options for who the leading man is. Perhaps it’s someone new, he thinks, someone he hasn’t met yet in the time since their journey ended.

“Erdwin!” shouts Dave, “The ship soon embarks! Board ye this boat alone, and peace could come to both kingdoms, as Faris so said.”

Erdwin says nothing, and Dave implores again, “Speak, Erdwin!”

“…she told me should could not live without me.” 

The melancholy, performative as it is, is still almost too much to bear, even if Nova does not know the words this time. Erdwin turns his back to the crowd, to face the painted sky; shadows of birds now dance along the coming sun. 

“So, the sun is our enemy, too. The eastern sky grows bright. Will we not spread our wings, as yonder birds in joyous flight?”

“Hark, Erdwin!” Dave pleads, beginning to run off stage. “They cannot wait any longer! The ship departs!”

But Erdwin does not move, now alone, gaze trained to the birds above him. “Could she… have betrayed me?” He begins a pace across the stage, desperation in his every move. “Nay, ne’er would my love speak false–I must have faith! She shall appear, if I only believe! As the sun lends me no ear, I pray instead to the twin moons!”

His stance now strong once more, Erdwin turns to face the painted moons, arms raised in prayer. “I beseech thee, wondrous moonlight–grant me my only wish!”

He lowers himself to the ground, and for a moment, Nova thinks he is preparing to beg. But then, Erdwin’s hand grabs at the bottom of his cloak, and tears it up and away from him–and when the first thing Nova sees of this man is a blue tail, he all but jumps to his feet.

Erik throws the cloak away from him, chest heaving, face grinning, hand outstretched to the throne. “Bring my beloved Eleven to me!”

~

Everything else after that is a blur.

Nova stands on the balcony dumbfounded for what feels like eons, but when he finally registers that yes, he isn’t dreaming, and yes, Erik is alive, and yes, Erik is waiting for him, he dashes to the doors, and if not for Hendrik and Krystalinda holding their arms out to block the way, he would have barreled through them without stopping.

Nova does skid to a stop, though, and is prepared to command and plead his way through–but the two push the doors open for him without a word.

He looks to Hendrik, who smiles, and nods. He looks to Krystalinda, who chuckles, and bows at the door. He wonders if they knew all along, and then decides that he doesn’t really care.

Nova gasps out a hushed, “Thank you”, and runs once again, down the spiral staircase, tripping on the last stair but refusing to fall. The guards at the front door jump away when he charges ahead, and he pushes through into the crowd below.

The sudden burst of sunlight is blinding, and Nova finds himself bumping into a man before pushing through, past noblemen and women and all sorts, none of whom are prepared to see their king stumbling through the crowd as fast as he can. 

And the crowd only begins to part for him when cries of his presence begin to rise and carry like a wave, and by that point, the goal is in sight. Erik is stepping down from the stage waiting to greet him, and when he sees Erik run a hand through his hair with a shy grin, Nova throws his crown off his head onto the ground, and all but leaps into Erik’s open arms.

He almost knocks Erik off his feet. Serves him right, a part of Nova thinks, for leaving him alone like that for so long, but the rest of him is too caught up with the feeling of Erik’s arms wrapped around his waist, tight as can be, spinning him in circles before finally setting Nova down. And when Nova looks at Erik in the eyes once more, he realizes that it’s through his own tears and held back sobs.

He brings his hands to cup Erik’s face, and Erik gives him an apologetic look. He puts a hand between them, and wipes away a tear from Nova’s cheek with his finger.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Erik says, or at least, he might have said it, because Nova had pulled Erik’s lips against his own before he even had time to think about it.

There was so much that could be said, so much that had to be said still. Everything they all saw and felt that day Erik parted from them. Nova had thought he’d said them all on that fateful goodbye, but as he kissed Erik, and Erik squeezed his waist and kissed him tenfold in return, he realizes that he’d still been holding back. Nova always knew he had been, he supposes, but it a gentle lie like that had been helping him along to heal. He would have faced the full truth, one day, when the past was truly behind him.

The past is behind him now. Behind all of them. And in its place, a brighter future Nova couldn’t have dared to dream of.

There is still so much he wanted to say, and could only say between desperate lips and hushed voices, but Erik pulls Nova away from him, and knocks their foreheads together. In the distance, Nova can hear the cheers of the kingdom, and their companions, but he’s far too lost in Erik to give them much thought.

Nova’s arms against his shoulders, Erik shrugs, and smiles. And Nova falls into Erik’s arms, his head on his shoulder, and fist pounding against his chest. He only stops when he feels Erik’s hand slide up his back, and when Erik lays his head against his, and presses a kiss to his ear, Nova begins to cry without relent.

#luminerik #i wasn't trying to make an au and i do apologize for that #but zidane and garnet taught baby panda what love is and i've been wishing on that star ever since #so i can't say it's an ENTIRELY sincere apology here #exiledatrocity #panda does a write

[crystalelemental]

Atelier Lulua Opinions

This feels a little early, since I haven’t really done the Machina Domain DLC, and that might change some stuff, but I’ve read a bit and it’s just a handful of lore tidbits about Mana and Ficus, so I’m calling it good.  Overall it’s pretty fun!  It’s nice to return to the Arland games after a while, and Lulua definitely delivers on both the nostalgia factor, and having some pretty unique stuff going on all its own.

CHARACTERS The cast wound up being surprisingly strong, all things considered.  Lulua herself is a fun protagonist, being, perhaps expectedly, quite a goober but trying her best.  Her best friend, Eva, is also hilarious at most points in the game, and actually has some incredible moments regarding her birth parents and her response to them reaching out after years of leaving her with an orphanage.  Aurel is...okay, one of the weaker characters.  He’s very serious warrior man, which is odd considering he’s related to Gio.  You’d expect a bit more aloofness to have rubbed off, but no, he takes his role seriously.  There’s Niko, who’s a doofus who’s a pirate but the nice kind because of course you are.

Then there’s Ficus.  I expected to hate Ficus, and initially, very much did.  But wow, what a turnaround.  It took a bit for me to figure out what was going on with him, but you’ve actually met him before.  You wouldn’t know it immediately, but...damn.  Damn what a tie-in that didn’t need tying in, but sure as hell got wrapped up anyway.  Seriously, it takes the story from the ending of Totori and completely turns it on its head.  There are a lot of questions I have about the whole situation, but overall he’s got a strong history.

Then there’s the returning cast.  Rorona and Sterk are as great as ever.  Sterk is having another, different midlife crisis this time, because this poor man has had one every game he’s been in.  Just let the man rest.  There’s Totori and Meruru, who are both wonderful.  Totori honestly feels a lot more sassy this game, and I absolutely love it.  Meruru is just as boisterous as always, and has even taken over learning the sword, and taking the mask, from Gio.  She’s Masked M.  It’s exactly as great as it sounds.  And your final recruitable member...is Piana.  Yeah, I love this recent trend with Atelier games, where the alchemy teacher is not the protagonist from the last game in line.  I expected Meruru to be the teacher, in that same successionary line, but instead it’s Piana, the girl Totori rescued from the Eastern Continent.  Piana’s fun.  She adopted a lot of teaching style from Totori, and is a bit of a mess as a person, but really talented with alchemy.

There are, of course, a ton of returning characters that are not playable as well.  Mimi and Keina are the big ones, and...god I love both of them.  Mimi’s just the right of “developing to be open with her feelings while still not being proficient with them” to make a wonderful character.  Keina has apparently taken over a lot of governance from Rufus, and is just really well liked.  Oh, and Cole’s here, grown up now, and the apprentice of Hagel.  While I’m all for Hagel getting an apprentice, his absence in this game is felt tremendously.  We also have some returning faces, in the form of Wild, Iksel’s protege.

Basically, it’s a solid cast, that...unfortunately misses a few marks for me.  Largely because of who isn’t here.  I get it, we can’t have every single character from all three Arland games show up.  That’d be too much.  But Mimi not being playable is ridiculous, and the fact that Cordelia of all people never shows up is just infuriating.  Why can’t Lulua see her other mom?  Work?  Cordelia’s always been busy with work, but has always made time for her friends.  Don’t give me that shit.

STORY Lulua’s probably the first real story we’ve gotten in the Arland games.  Rorona was just saving her Atelier, Totori was just looking for her mom and tripped into the plot, Meruru was just developing her kingdom.  Lulua actually hints at a lot, and develops things pretty substantially.  At its core, Lulua retains the simplicity of the other Arland games, being primarily about Lulua’s journey to become a great alchemist like her mother.  Beneath the surface, however, we have the mystery of Fellsgalaxen, and how it ties in with the other area we know of: Orthogalaxen.  Turns out, both are related, and there was even a third that fell into disrepair and became the Modis Ruins.  The galaxen arks were basically command centers, where ancient civilizations overlooked machinery they built in order to control the world around them.  For instance, Night’s Domain?  It was apparently an area where a machine was built to control night and day.  When the command center broke down, the machine lost control, and now just perpetually converts the surrounding area to a deeper and deeper night.  There’s also the Fire Domain, which control weather, but went haywire and now just spews fire.  Rule of threes, there’s one more Domain area we actually know of.  Machina Domain.  Now, I didn’t get the DLC for it yet, I’m sure there will be more to talk about from it, but presumably that was something to allow for passage through space, given it’s constantly referred to as a “distortion in space.”

The story develops into Lulua meeting the operator of Fellsgalaxen, a girl named Stia, who is desperately trying to get to the core and fix the problems at hand.  It’s not working, and you need to help her get there before Fellsgalaxen is destroyed, and takes your hometown out with it.

Despite how solid the story is, I feel like there are too many gaps.  We don’t know a ton about the galaxen arks or the different domains or their purposes.  We don’t know...well, much of anything.  Maybe a lot of that is left to the DLC, but even if it is, I do take some issue with needing an additional purchase to make sense of some of your lore.  Still, I absolutely love this, for possibly stupid reasons.  Those reasons largely being around enjoying stories of man vs. nature where man lost, and the new trial being current man vs. past man’s mistakes echoing through eternity.

SETTING Okay, yes, I love the establishment of what the domains and the galaxens are.  I love the added depth they gave to certain areas or bosses, to a degree it almost feels like this game was planned since Rorona (though I’m sure it wasn’t).  It just feels like such a good development of the setting we’ve known and loved all these years.

I will say that I wish Lulua had more unique areas to work with, instead of being just a highlight reel of areas from previous games.  The general scale also looks weird, and kinda packed together compared to previous games, but it doesn’t really detract from anything.

ALCHEMY SYSTEM Not gonna lie, the alchemy system is kind of over-complicated this time around.  There’s 999 quality, again, as well as elemental values for each items.  Different ingredients give different values, leading to different potential effects on the new items.  But wait!  Now there’s also Awakening effects!  Depending on the item used, in certain slots, you can get additional effects!  Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they suck.

The problem is, you’re trying to balance all of these things at once.  the most quality you get out of gathered items is like 230, so 999 quality on items is one hell of a leap.  You basically have to rely on synthesized items, but the items natural to a category don’t always work for the effects you’re after.  So you have to Awaken other items to be part of that category, so you can have better effects, all while monitoring the absurd quality level and traits you’re passing on.  Oh, and speaking of traits?  All the best ones are locked behind specific traits being combined, and not in the way you think.  See, to get the maximum of, say, Stat boosting traits, you don’t just mix together two of the low level ones, like Stat Boost and Stats Mega Charge.  No, you have to combine Stats Mega Charge with a rare trait you only get from bosses or rewards from S-rank battle quests, like Awakening Agent, Deadly Art, or Resonant Agent, to combine with the highest tier you can make naturally, and upgrade into the next form.  It can be a little bit frustrating, and frankly?  I had to shift difficulty down to Easy just to get started.  Without having a good spread, you can’t take the S-rank bosses easily, and then you can’t really get the effects.  And you do need the effects.  The final bosses are pretty tough without them.

TP (formerly Cost) for an item isn’t great.  It caps naturally at 60, increasing by 5 for each 5 levels you grow in alchemy, but the TP increasing skills actually stack this time, so it’s not too hard to get what you need, as long as you’re passing the highest tier of this skill on to everything you make.

BATTLE SYSTEM Battle system can also be frustrating.  Basically, there are two issues I take with this game: Stun, and Support Attacks.

Stun is obvious.  Pretty sure I’ve complained of it before, and will do so until the end of time.  Stun sucks.  It’s either a problem where you’re getting stunned every two hits, or you’ve managed to perfectly stunlock an enemy who is no longer allowed to move.  It takes twice as many hits to Stun an enemy once they recover, but you only really need it to land once.  Stun is only gained from skill attacks, which means it’s really easy for the enemy to just spam those and stun you.  God forbid they have something that both has high stun value and knockback.  You may as well turn the game off if the enemy gets to act at all.

And that’s where Support Attacks are annoying.  You can control them, but only in the sense that you can determine who to put on the back line to allow the follow-up.  Not all follow-up attacks activate off of the same frontline skills, so it’s more about matching to your specific playstyle than anything.  The problem is, you have no control over when they go off, or if they go off.  They’re not all guaranteed.  So, let’s say an enemy isn’t stunned, but needs two hits to be stunned, after your skill was used.  Piana may follow up with her two support attacks.  May.  If she hits with one, the enemy gets their turn, and you might be fucked.  If she gets both, great!  But this also works in reverse.  Let’s say you know full well that an enemy needs only one hit to be stunned.  Tough shit, Piana is guaranteed to follow up with one of her skills, and that’s going to remove stun so the enemy gets to act anyway.  Stun is just annoying.  It’s hard to control for, and you don’t really get a chance to act on it most of the time.  Without these two parts, I think the game could be fine with a bit of rebalancing.  As it stands, bosses all felt either way overpowered because taking a hit meant being stun locked forever, or were a cakewalk because equipment was all at its optimal and nothing could stand against you.  You could argue that’s just the Atelier Experience, but I have a hard time saying that this was all that much fun, considering I never once touched my items.  I got through everything on stats alone, and that...doesn’t feel like the best thing.

OTHER MECHANICS Exploration items exist in this game, and it’s...kinda weird?  You need specific bombs for mining now, and they come at different destruction levels, such that some bombs won’t even dent certain rocks, and it’s not clear which are which.  Pickaxe has the same issue, mostly being unable to break things without its max destruction value, which is pretty low.  A lot of exploration items feel redundant or kinda useless, like the Wind God’s Bag or Traveling Shoes (there’s no time limit, why do I need these?), but some are hyper-vital, like the key.  It’s really just about picking the best options for you.  So in my case, it was mostly mining bombs.

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS I’m gonna echo what I said about Lydie and Suelle: one of the things I never took into account before was graphics.  I think people who bitch about graphics needing to be top-tier are ridiculous.  This game has all sorts of visual issues, but it does nothing to detract from the charm of the game.  Rather, what they choose to use graphics for has a lot of impact.  Instead of the relatively flat affect of some previous games, characters have gotten really dynamic in their expressions, poses, and general actions, and it’s frankly fantastic.  It adds a layer of comedy to the games that really complements the series’ general tone.

Also, please, please watch the Lulua and Sterk armwrestling bit.  I promise it will be the best thing you’ve watched all day.

FINAL THOUGHTS Atelier Lulua is a fantastic game that, I think, really succeeds at what it attempts to do.  It’s a fun nostalgia trip through Arland, with a lot of great returning cast members, and new developments for characters and setting that are really fun to experience.  If you’ve played the Arland games and are a fan, absolutely check Lulua out.  If you haven’t...consider trying out Rorona.  You really do need to have background knowledge of the Arland games to appreciate Lulua to the fullest.  But once you have that knowledge, it’s definitely worth playing.

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If you enjoyed this (for some reason), consider checking out the write-ups for the other games in the series as well!

Atelier Rorona Plus Atelier Totori Plus Atelier Meruru Plus Atelier Ayesha Plus Atelier Escha and Logy Plus Atelier Shallie Plus Atelier Sophie Atelier Firis Atelier Lydie and Suelle

#atelier lulua #atelier opinions #atelier series

[ohjaimelannister]

What are your predictions for 8x04 and the rest of the season? Plus all the major characters, like who do you think will live?

Oh god anon, Im sorry I didnt see this until now! 8x04 is kinda redundant now, and no one could have really predicted that storm of shite.

Okay so this is gonna be long I guess but here we go.

To be honest with you I only have a few prediction as to where the story’s gonna end up, I’m more concerned with the characters but :Kings Landing and the Iron Throne are destroyed by Cersei and/or Daenerys and Drogon. There is no more ‘King or Queen’ of the Seven Kingdoms, they have a council of a few (possibly elected? but probably not because this is Westeros) lords in a democracy or each kingdom goes back to being completely independent (which in the Norths case I wouldn’t actually mind) .

I’m not sure whether the White Walkers are truly gone or not? I’m not sure whether there’s gonna be something to do with them, but probably not. But basically there’s gonna be a lot of destruction and dismantling of the normal before this is all over.

I think this isn’t going to be type of “The End” situation, life will continue and maybe we’ll get some sort of epilogue about how one of the characters we’ve come to know is murdered under /mysterious/ circumstance (just like how the series began with Jon Arryns murder) or there’s another rebellion and the cycle begins all over again. There will be the inlaying message about how the wheel is never ‘broken’ because power will always be coveted and power will always be taken from those that have it. Basically they’re doomed to live this cycle over and over again. Hence the ‘bittersweet’ ending. All those that died along the way, died for nothing because the politics, backstabbing and wars will never be over.

Characters :

Lets start with The Starks, Sansa- I have nothing much for you except I just hope she lives at this point? Honestly, Id like her to rule and be Sansa of House Stark, First of her Name Wardeness of the North. She cares about her people and loves them endlessly so she’s perfect for ruling and protecting the North because of all she’s learned from figures like Tyrion, Cersei, Littlefinger etc.   I don’t really mind if she marries or not but I’d like her to at least experience a loving relationship at some point in her life after all the shit she’s suffered through, and she just deserves to be happy basically. Though saying all of this considering how they’re writing it at the moment I honestly and truly expect her to end up ruling the north completely alone without any of her family with her because that ‘subverts expectations’ and D&D are shits.

Jon - well I hope for the best again but let’s be honest we’re not going to get it. Therrs two ways this could go : 1.) He doesn’t want to rule and I honestly don’t think he will. I would like him too, he’s good in leadership positions and he’s got the ‘saving the masses’ temperament (re: Wildings and getting himself killed for it) but I’m getting real big “gonna kill my auntiegirlfriend” from him at the moment, and I think we all know by know its been implied that Dany is going to go ‘mad’ and hell do it it to stop her from continuing to destroy an already burning city and more people from dying later on when shes finished with Kings Landing. Itll sort of parallel with Jaimes story in the end, though instead of being protected by the new ruler and his family, Jon will confess to his ‘crime’ and be sent to the North to exile, and go off with Tormund via Castle Black. I don’t want to say he establishes a new Nights Watch because there’s really no need for them now? Unless the WW aren’t really gone, then hell feel like he has too and the cycle will start all over again. Either way, he’s going to end up alone pretty much. As Beric and Ser Alistair said his life will never be easy and hell end up fighting others wars forever.

2.) Basically the same thing as before ^ but instead of being exiled, Drogon will just burn him to death in the Throne Room for killing Dany.

Either way Jons not going to get a happy ending I don’t think.

Arya - Her whole arc on the show has been badly written, and in the end I just want her to be happy with her family and Gendry. BookArya just wants a ‘pack’, basically a family. She fought so long and hard to get back to where she was, and even announced it to one of the most dangerous men in the world that she was “Arya Stark of Winterfell” and that she was going home. Where has that been this season? I want her not to kill Cersei, I want her to see what impact Cersei and Dany tearing each other apart has on KL and decide that vengeance isnt the best route and go to Gendry, who she clearly loves and he clearly loves  her. The Hound might even try and convince her to seek out Gendry because there’s someone in the world that obviously loves her for who she is.  But in all honesty? I think theyll have her just leave without saying goodbye to any of her family and just disappear again to find out what’s “west of Westeros”.

Dany - Dead. I dont like saying it, because I think Emilia has done her very best with whats been given to her (and D&D have done her dirty) but Dany is going to end up being killed by Jon for going mad with power and bloodlust basically. All signs have been pointing to it for a while now and without her morale compass in Ser Jorah and experiencing the pain of the abduction and then murder of someone she loved as a sister is obviously going to send her over the edge. I dont think shes ‘evil’ as such but, shes always had a problem with her anger and temperament, which the others have been skillfully subduing for years, with them gone, watch out world. Of course I could be epically wrong and she could actually win, murder all the Lannisters and Jon in a shock twist and take the Throne for herself??

Cersei - Dead. I mean it would be the ultimate shock and plot twist if she somehow lived and killed all the others? And tbh with the writing at the moment I wouldn’t actually hate that. I think shell probably either get killed by Jaime or take the easy way out like she was going to try to do before Stannis got to her during the Battle of the Blackwater. Nothing too surprising on the horizon there I think (hope).

Jaime - I want him to live? I mean I’ve known for many years there’s a 99% chance the he will die but I still have the smallest hope.  If he has to die let it be heroic, let it be him killing Cersei to stop her from blowing up KL to get at Dany and co. Hed only die if he was wounded in the fight to get to Cersei (which is highly likely), or if he was caught by Dany and she has him executed because it looks like he betrayed them all, when in reality he was the only one who could get close to her. Im not gonna say anything about the leaks because I really hope that if he has to die its a GOOD death (and not falling from towers or jsut to be with cersei at the end or some shit) and that its his redemption arc completed and I really hope while hes killing Cersei he says “The things I do for love” and she KNOWS its not about her anymore. I will really be angry if this is a D&D screw up and they mess his entire character arc up because of this “addiction” nonsense. If he has to die let it be with Brienne by his side (because shes gone chasing after him) cradling him. “In the arms of the woman I love”

My dream for him would be that he lives, goes to Tarth, marries Brienne (after begging her forgiveness and shes punched him, ALOT) and they have warrior babies. The end.

Tyrion - I have two endings in mind for him, Dany finds out about someone is plotting behind her back and either Varys sells Tyrion out so he can keep playing his little games (or they both get found out) and he has a trial and is executed. Or if Dany dies he becomes part of this council thats going to lead Westeros.

Brienne - She lives? I cant see anything bad happening to her at this point unless she goes to KL to save Jaimes dumb ass. Either way I think shell live and end up bearing Jaimes child (whether he lives or not) because they were together for weeks and weeks, and it’ll be a plot device used to carry on the Lannister bloodline when the other three die, like Gendry was for the Baratheons. Which lets face it would cover the whole “bittersweet” ending really wouldnt it? She has to carry and bare the child of a man who loved and left her (with hopefully good reason) but shell never know that so she has to raise him/her alone on Tarth as a constant reminder.

Gendry - Well. Boys got two options (maybe three) But I dont think hell stay Lord of Storms End possibly? If its a choice between Storms End or Arya, I hope hell pick Arya. Shes never cared about him being a lord, she loved him for who he was way before he was made one. Or they just live in Storms End together and raise children. (They have to give us something right????) And the third option - Ive always had this really weird foreboding feeling he’d end up married to Sansa, Arya said no and made it clear she doesn’t want to marry, and if she leaves then…….the whole “i have a son, you have a daughter” thing still becomes a reality.

Pod - Well, I hope he lives, gets made a knight and helps Ser Brienne on Tarth basically. Hes too pure to be ruined (though D&D will probs give it a shot)

Davos - Might live? Im not so sure, if he does hell be helping out the new ruler/rulers in some way?? Or hell just be down in FleaBottom adopting random kids left and right.

The Hound - Will probably die in Cleganebowl and Arya will actually give the gift of Mercy this time, but not before he bestows his dad wisdom on her about Gendry/Life. And if he does by some miracle live hell probably go somewhere, build a house and live there in solitude for the rest of his days.

Bronn - Well I had a joke that this shit (i loved the character early on but this season has just been no) would avoid all the major battles somehow, live on over all our faves and get his damned castle……..Im probably not wrong about this one….

Sam and Gilly - Their goodbye already seemed pretty final? I hope we see more of them because just leaving them at Winterfell seems a bit open ended and weird considering Sam was like, part of the most MAJOR plot on the show? Maybe hell put on this council or be Lord of Horn Hill with Gilly as his wife, which would a great middle finger to his horrible father.

#got spoilers #game of thrones #meta #Jaime Lannister #brienne of tarth #Braime #Anonymous

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

a Christmas Caryl, them together and warming my heart. Merry Christmas! <3

Back For Good (also on 9L)

Daryl heard the news from Tara and headed straight for the bedroom he’d claimed to get the bag from the closet’s top shelf.

He’d grabbed it all a few days ago in defiance and anger, stuffing the items into his backpack. They didn’t need it anymore and had never deserved it in the first place. He’d gone through it all when he’d gotten back, choosing a few select items for her and distributing the rest to the others in their group. He just hadn’t expected to be giving them to her so soon.

Tara had said she’d be next door settling in, and he rushed out the back door and across the yard, shrinking the distance between them as fast as he could—until he reached for the door handle.

She’d come back. Only a few days had passed since the war ended and he’d watched Carol walk away with the Kingdom dwellers. She’d said goodbye, even hugged him—God, he shouldn’t have let her go again, not in this world—but then she skirted away to help rebuild the city that’d helped them win by losing so much.

He wanted to see her, needed to know she was okay, and, more pressing, why she’d chosen to come back to Alexandria.

He pushed through his doubt and the door, calling her name.

“In the living room,” Carol responded.

The sound of her voice soothed him in a way he hadn’t felt since the prison, since the times when he’d return after days, sometimes weeks, out on the road, and the sound of her voice welcoming him back made the world seem less skewed than it’d actually become and everything he’d endured on the road somehow worth it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on that—on her—until this moment and all the memories of feeling like home overwhelmed him. It’d been so long…

He made his way through the kitchen, steeling himself—his heart—against the onslaught of emotions that always bowled him over when reuniting with her, and stepped into the living room.

She sat on the couch, removing the Kingdom gear she wore across her chest and on her arms, looking out of place in the home that wasn’t hers, and he instantly wondered if she regretted her decision to come back. His chest tightened at the thought, so badly wanting to believe she’d returned for good that it hadn’t crossed his mind until now that it could be temporary.

She looked pensive, unsure, and entirely stunning, her hair framing her face in silvery curls, her round eyes seeking him out.

“Hi,” she stated simply, breaking the still air between them.

He gripped the small bag tighter in his hand and made himself speak. “Hey.”

She stared at him for several moments, drinking in the familiar sight of him, tall, lean, wearing a knife at his hip and his crossbow on his back, those worn, patched pants he kept washing but refused to get rid of, a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt under his ever-present angel-wing vest. He peered at her through his overgrown hair, his gaze intense and cautious but kind.

Her heart seized in her chest. How she’d missed him.

She patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit with me,” she invited.

Daryl moved through the room silently, removing his bow and leaving space between them as he tucked one leg underneath him and sat sideways, facing her, surreptitiously dropping the bag near his feet as he propped his weapon against the couch.

Carol turned toward him, and the room grew silent again as they both watched her pick at the flawless couch cushion with one hand.

Daryl had plenty to say, a myriad of things to ask her, but as he often did, he kept quiet, reveling in the fact she sat not two feet from him. Unharmed, seemingly content, and, as was their way, comfortable enough in silence that she didn’t immediately try to fill it. He felt as though the world had shifted since he’d last seen her, and he realized the last time they’d spent time alone was at that cottage she’d stayed in. Had that really only been a week ago? He wanted to know everything that’d happened to her since he’d left that night—and everything before that, when they’d forgotten they could lean on each other. He didn’t begrudge her her new-found friends and would be forever grateful that Morgan—who’d disappeared—and Ezekiel and Jerry and the others had taken her in and helped her heal. Still…he’d missed her. Still did, even as she sat in front of him, with all of the trauma and time and evil deeds they’d done lying like so much rubble between them.

He’d spend the rest of his life wading through the muck and mire of it if it meant she’d stay with him. He hoped he’d get the chance…

He glanced up to see her still staring at the couch, waiting for him to say something.

“Tara told me you’re back for good,” he broke the silence, and they both heard the question he couldn’t ask: Is it true?

She finally met his eyes, noting the hesitation and fear in them. She gave him a small smile. “I am. It feels…strange after…everything, but good. I’ve missed being with you and Michonne and Maggie, the kids.”

Daryl willed his blood to pump normally, her admission sending hope flooding through his veins like a drug. “Missed you, too,” he murmured, not willing to let any more time slip by without trying to acknowledge how much she meant to him.

She lent him a knowing smile before letting it slowly fall from her face. “I wanted to help them. I felt I owed them that much after they’d taken me in. They’re good people, kind, fierce, and loyal…to a fault, actually. I wanted to help them shore up the city, rebuild the walls, and I was…”

Carol trailed off, still absent-mindedly playing with the seam of the couch cushion, and Daryl knew something, or someone, had caused her to leave. He waited patiently, his silence encouraging her to tell the story at her own pace, even as he chomped at the bit to know what’d transpired.

“I only wanted to help…I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

She paused again, and he wondered what exactly she was trying to say. Had someone forced her to leave? Banished her like Rick had—which he still needed to process with her someday—leaving her no choice but to come back here? After fighting so valiantly in the war, how could they determine it better to let her go than keep her with them? He’d never rooted for her disengagement from Alexandria, but he’d have words with anyone who actively sought to push her out of their community.

“But he was.”

It took a minute for Daryl to realize her meaning, and his heart thundered rapidly against his ribcage, gripped by fear of what came next.

“Ezekiel, I mean,” she explained unnecessarily, finally meeting his gaze.

He kept his expression neutral as a quiet storm raged inside of him. He nodded once, encouraging her to continue. “I thought I’d made myself clear all this time. Back when I was in that house, he’d visit, and I’d tell him to leave. He’d bring supplies, and I’d refuse them. He’d send people to check on me, and they’d piss me off, springing my traps, and I’d send them away with an earful.”

He kept his smile to a minimal but couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at how far she’d come since those days in the quarry. Living alone, setting traps, railing at people who encroached past boundaries she’d set, she was a force of nature.

Her admission also explained the initial look of irritation on her face as she’d opened that door to him, before the shock and relief and—dare he think it?—tenderness took over and the walls and tears fell.

Just thinking about it made his arms ache to hold her again.

“I didn’t lead him on—at least I didn’t think I did. He’s very persistent, though.”

“Seems like you made yourself pretty clear to me,” he agreed levelly. Only a lifetime of hiding his emotions allowed him to keep the irritation out of his voice. If a man kept pressing after repeatedly being rejected, he only had himself to blame for her walking away. And though he knew she could handle it—and likely had—he couldn’t help wishing the man lived a bit closer so he could pay him a friendly visit.

She shrugged one shoulder lightly. “Since I was going to be living inside the city, I asked him where I should move to, and he suggested I live with him. It’s when I realized I…I wanted to be here.”

He waited a beat. “Alexandria, you mean?”

“No. Yes. I mean, yes, Alexandria, but…not just Alexandria. It’s important to me that I’m here…with you and the rest of our group. The people who’ve been by my side since the beginning. The people I trust the most. The people who know me the best.  The person who knows who I am and the things I’ve had to do to make it this far.”

Daryl nodded in understanding, thinking of the journey they’d been on together. The trials and losses, the displacements and running and fighting and wars fought long before the man with a bat tried to rule a small corner of the world.

“I wanted to escape. After everything…after all we’ve lost, I thought I needed to be somewhere….someone else.”

Her words sent him back to their trek into Atlanta, another lifetime ago. She’d tried explaining to him then that she needed space, but he knew space, at least the kind back then, without other people around, would kill her. Survival meant sticking together, and he’d tried with every weapon in his weak arsenal to show her she belonged with him: protecting her, feeding her, listening and defending and encouraging and just being with her. He’d even waited until she slept to slip out and put down the mother and child walkers, knowing that act would likely push her over the edge if she had to do it herself. As a rule, if time allowed, they burned or buried the bodies of friends and loved one, not walkers. But that…he’d needed to do that for her. They’d both missed the funeral held for Sophia, she out of defiance or denial, he to ensure she wasn’t alone then, so the burning of those bodies had been his way to pay respect to the mother/child unit, the young girl he’d failed to bring back to her mother, the scared, scarred, and abused who hadn’t escaped from a living hell after all. She’d brought him back from the brink too many times to count; it’d been the one time he’d felt like he’d returned the favor.

“But all leaving did was made me feel like a pariah. I didn’t fit in there, and staying would’ve felt…weird. He’s a decent man beneath his disguise, and I could’ve even overlooked the whole…ridiculous king schtick to stay and help them rebuild. But not after he asked me that. It would’ve made things too uncomfortable.”

“I get it,” he confirmed. And he did. It was the main reason he’d never told her how he felt: because he feared she’d turn him down and leave, not wanting to bother with someone who made a tough life even more difficult. No, he’d rather suffer in silence and keep her around, have her friendship and watch her back, than ever risk her rejection and discomfort.

“I just...want to be here.”

His heart soared, and he desperately wanted to reach out and touch her, prove to himself that he wasn’t having a deluded fantasy, but he sat still, staring at her intently. “Glad to have you home.”

“Home,” she repeated, the word sounding like both a question and a resolution.

He nodded. “You always got a home here. Wherever we are.” Where I am, he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t make the words come out.

“Thank you.” He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but a few blinks later and they were gone. “Did you know tomorrow is supposedly Christmas?”

She sounded skeptical, but surprised and a little excited, and he nodded in response, realizing the heavy moments from before had passed. He’d learned how to manage those conversations over the years—hell, you couldn’t live in close proximity the way they had without getting into them—and even though they still made him uncomfortable, he treasured them. He never felt more important, never felt closer to her, than in those deep, often dark, places where she needed a companion. And when she chose him to accompany her, he faced the shadows, heart pounding, courage wavering, but determined to help her through at the expense of his own dis-ease. His chest ached that she’d come back to him—to them, he corrected himself—because it meant she wouldn’t seek out her new friends or a king or a stranger but him or Michonne or Maggie or others he trusted.

Damn, but he’d missed her. He nearly lost his breath at how much the realization suddenly overwhelmed him.

Carol gave him a questioning look. “You do?”

It took him a few seconds to realize she hadn’t read his mind but instead continued their conversation.

He nodded toward the front window at the blustery, overcast day and the bare trees in the yard and cleared his throat. “Seems about right with the weather getting’ so cold and the snow flurries we had the other night. Huntin’s been harder, and the jacket ain’t doin’ its job anymore.” He looked at her again. “Plus, Tara told me about the calendar the Alexandrians’ been keepin’.”

She huffed a laugh, shoving his arm a little at his teasing and making him smile in the process.

Her smile pierced his heart with affection. She looked beautiful, cheeks slightly pink, eyes happy with mirth, staring at him like he’d dreamed about since nearly the day he’d met her. If he could bottle this moment and hold it for safekeeping, for days when he thought he’d never see her again or the struggle to survive became nearly too much to bear…  He stared, drinking in the aura of her presence, the joy on her face, the sound of her chuckle, the way she sat turned towards him like he was important.

“Seems unreal that they’ve kept a calendar all this time.”

She sounded nostalgic, almost sad, and he understood the depth from which she spoke. While others had become mini-Hitlers, lived like kings, and played at Utopia safely behind walls, they’d clawed and clamored and scraped their way by just to stay together and feed themselves. It didn’t seem right.

“It’s stupid...but they didn’t know better.”

“I guess it’s part of what makes life…livable, huh? We’ve just been surviving for so long.”

He’d never known much of anything else, knew too that she’d spent at least part of her life like that, but he remained quiet, sensing she wanted to say more.

She stared out the window at the waning sunlight as the shadows crept longer across the lawn. “We never could stop to smell the roses like the others. Art and music and reading, birthdays and holidays and celebrating a new year…they all became ancient relics. Until the prison. Until we came here and met these groups.” She smiled sadly. “I guess I wanted to live in a fantasy. After everything we’d been through, everything I’d done, I…I just wanted to escape, to put on another costume and pretend I hadn’t sunken into a hell worse than Before.”

He watched her, knew the exact moment the scenes in her head turned from playing faux-happy homemaker to self-realized hoax. She blamed herself, he could tell, and though he wanted to defend her from her own incriminations, he waited.

“It didn’t work this time. It always had with Ed. I could….will myself to move past whatever nightmare had occurred that week. I had Sophia, and she made it worth the effort to try again. I thought I could do it this time like I always had before, but…” She shook her head, frustration on her face. “it was different. Sophia loved me. Ed didn’t love anything but himself, but she loved me, the real me. None of those people were like him, but they don’t know me and if they did…they’d be afraid.” She finally turned her gaze to him. “But you…you and rest of our family know. They know who I am, what I’m capable of.”

And love you just the same, he wanted to reassure her.

He hadn’t asked, and she’d already briefly explained why she’d returned, but it sent flutters through his stomach to know she trusted him with this…her past, her choices, the reason she’d decided to leave…and come back.

“We know,” he agreed quietly. “We know, and it doesn’t matter to us because we’ve all done the same. They don’t know…but we do. We’re stronger together. I know things happened that you ain’t ready to talk about—and maybe never will be—but I’m here if you ever do. And you think some of it’s unforgivable, that it makes you…worse than the rest of us. It ain’t true. I wouldn’t be here without you—none of us would. The CDC, Terminus...that was you savin’ us. You saved Judy. Wouldn’t let me leave when I distanced myself and acted like an ass. And always takin’ care of everybody except yourself.” He realized how emphatic and forceful he sounded, and he dropped his voice. “You gotta let us take care’a you.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“Gonna have to learn…to live with the love,” he nearly whispered, reaching up to softly wipe a tear away from her cheek with his thumb, the ghost of a smile on his face at the memory of her words to him from another time, a better place. “The only sense this world makes is when we’re together. You gotta know that.”

He reluctantly let his hand fall away from her face, the air between them a live wire he wasn’t sure he felt ready to touch. But, oh, he wanted to, wanted to lean toward her in the darkening room and tell her everything she’d come to mean to him. Cleanse the fear from her and let her know how he treasured her. His heart felt like it would explode inside his chest.

Carol swallowed hard and closed her eyes, severing the tension a bit, and he let out the breath he didn’t realize he held.

She covered her face with her hands for a minute before wiping her tears away and meeting his eyes. “I do. It’s the only thing that’s ever made sense. It’s why I had to come back.”

Daryl held her gaze and nodded, desperate to reach for her but afraid to disrupt the connection they were rebuilding.

“I’m glad you did. Glad you’re here.”

She grabbed his hand, squeezing gently, and her touch sent fire racing through his veins. What he wouldn’t give to hold her close, kiss her tears away, wash the darkness from her soul, calm her fears.

“I am, too,” she breathed, the pain easing away from her face.

He needed to move, needed to refocus their conversation, before he made a fool of himself by revealing too much. Having her back for good, sitting so close to him in the fading light of day, her hands on him, her soft voice caressing his heart, he needed to retreat.

He shifted on the couch, and his foot hit the bag he’d brought with him.

“I, uh…” He withdrew from her, reaching down to grab the gift he’d brought. “I got something for you.” He handed the medium-sized black zippered makeup bag to her. “Call it a Christmas gift.”

She stared at the bag for a few seconds before raising her eyes to meet his, and he felt the room get inexplicably hotter. Her blue eyes, intense and penetrating, held his gaze, and for a minute he thought she was going to kiss him, the space between them coiled tight with electricity.

He swallowed hard. “Go on.” He pushed the words out, and they sounded strained, even to his own ears. “Open it.”

Carol stared at him a moment longer before looking down at the bag in her hands again, and he felt the loss suddenly, like they’d missed a ripe opportunity for everything he’d ever wanted and would never have.

He watched her unzip the bag and open the top to reveal it full of sundry items: a few tubes of chapstick, a mini hairbrush, silver and black snap hair clips, a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of body spritz, a container of face scrub, a jar of moisturizer, and a small tube of sunscreen.

“Daryl...where…?” She rifled through the items, surprise written on her face.

“I was at the Sanctuary lookin’ for supplies and food, and I came across the stash of things the women over there had. Brought it all back with me and…set aside a few things for you before sharin’ with everybody here. I know it ain’t much, and I didn’t exactly know what you’d like, but I thought—”

She suddenly flew towards him, and he caught her up in his arms just as she flung hers around his neck. He froze, his body in shock, every muscle strung tight and attuned to the softness of her in his arms. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of her against him again, never wanting to let her go. Her cupped her head with one hand, the other fitting around her waist, tentative but firm.

She felt perfect, scorched him everywhere she touched, his skin set aflame by her arms around him, her breath, ragged but soft, near his ear, her chest gently heaving against his.

“You, uh, you like it then?” he queried.

Her laughter rumbled softly against him, and she withdrew enough to look at him, joy evident on her face. “It’s wonderful,” she breathed.

Her fingers teased the hair at his nape, her hands, still draped around his neck, sending sparks through his blood, and he realized a small lean forward, just a single moment of bravery, would tell him what she tasted like. She sat so close, nearly in his lap now, and he felt time freeze, her words hanging in the air like mistletoe, waiting for a response.

“Carol…” he murmured, afraid she’d recoil. Afraid she wouldn’t.

With one hand she fluffed the hair away from his face, her eyes never leaving his, and he thought for sure he’d melt into a puddle at her feet.

She slid her thumb across his lips, the movement soft and sensual and altogether hotter than anything that’d ever happened to him in his life. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and he was about to say her name again when she eased toward him and touched her lips to his, chaste and sweet and more than his brain or body could process.

He froze, his body tense, his mind scrambled, his hands at her waist hoping to keep her in place until he could come to his senses. His head swam, his body burning everywhere at once, the world tilting as he soared and fell, the motions leaving his stomach floating into his throat.

He sunk into the moment just as she began to pull away, and he chased her lips with his, gently tugging her back towards him. She moved into him again, her arms tight around his neck, and he felt her everywhere, against his thighs and his chest and his mouth, wrapped around him and stealing into his veins, settling into his muddled mind and burrowing deeper into his heart.

He never wanted to come up for air.

“Daryl.”

She whispered against his mouth, and he felt the vibrations of his name on her kissed lips deep in his soul. She was driving him mad, and he went back for more. He felt her smile against his lips, her tongue teasing him, his heartbeat thundering so wildly he feared it’d jump right out of his chest.

He eased away slowly, trying to catch his breath, and Carol gripped his neck, leaning her forehead against his.

He couldn’t believe what’d just happened, felt sure he’d wake up from this erotic dream any moment now, but it continued on…her breath feathering against his lips, her face mere inches from his, her soft skin beneath his hands at her waist, her forehead pressed to his in an intimacy he’d never imagined actually occurring.

She pulled away slowly, a satisfied look on her face. “You give the best gifts,” she stated, both teasing and serious. “We should celebrate more often.”

He huffed a little, still overcome by her kisses. He could barely breathe—let alone think of a witty rejoinder—with her nearly in his lap, her hands on him, the memory of her kisses still searing his lips.

“I’m glad I came back in time for Christmas.” She stared at him intently, speaking directly into his heart. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

A/N: this is a special fic written for @madwomanlexie and @jaimelannistre  Merry Christmas, my friends!!  Lexi, I told you (maybe a year ago? I’m horrible, sorry!) that I’d write a fic somewhat based on this post--and here it is! And Eena, you wanted a fic where they sit and talk. I don’t know if this suffices but I tried! Hope you both have wonderful, happy, merry Christmases. Love ya! <3

#caryl #carol x daryl #daryl x carol #caryl fanfiction #caryl fanfic #christmas caryl #christmas caryl 2018 #my writing #personal #madwomanlexie #jaimelannistre

[pamphletstoinspire]

A Novena For Justice And Healing In The Church

Recited On Any 9 Consecutive Days

The Church is suffering. Victims are suffering. Faithful priests and Bishops are suffering. The laity are suffering. All of this suffering comes through sin, unbelief, and injustice. The answer to this crisis – the solution that every Catholic can participate in, that you can participate in, is to be a conduit of grace through prayer.

God has ordained that His grace and healing come through the prayers of His people. If we pray, that grace will pour out as a torrent of God’s love and healing on the Church. If we do not pray, that grace will not come – healing will be hindered – justice will be thwarted – renewal will never emerge. Please join us in a novena to St. Thérèse of Lisieux for the healing of our Church?

“Each time that my enemy would provoke me to fight I behave like a brave soldier. I know that a duel is an act of cowardice, and so, without once looking him in the face, I turn my back on the foe, hasten to my Savior, and vow that I am ready to shed my blood in witness of my belief in Heaven.” ~ St. Thérèse of Lisieux

We must first turn to our Lord and Savior when the enemy provokes us to fight. We must rely upon His strength, His wisdom, His leading, His power.

“From afar it seems easy to do good to souls, to make them love God more, to mold them according to our own ideas and views. But coming closer we find, on the contrary, that to do good without God’s help is as impossible as to make the sun shine at night.” ~ St. Thérèse of Lisieux

As you join us in this fight that begins and ends on our knees in prayer, please offer these intentions with us for the Church and:

That all victims would find healing and peace. That all perpetrators of sin and deception in the Church, and their enablers, would be brought to justice.

Little Flower Novena

Prayers to be said each day:

Come Holy Spirit and fill the hearts of the faithful, and kindle in them the fire of divine love.

V. Send forth Your Spirit and they shall be created.

R. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

Let us pray: O God, who have instructed the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Spirit; grant that by the gift of the same Spirit, we may be ever truly wise and rejoice in His consolation, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Acts of Faith, Hope, and Love: O my God! I believe in Thee: strengthen my faith. All my hopes are in Thee: do Thou secure them. I love Thee: teach me to love Thee daily more and more.

The Act of Contrition: O my God! I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend You, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance , and to amend my life. Amen.

Concluding Prayer Prayed Each Day:

O Lord, You have said that unless we become as little children we shall not enter the kingdom of heaven; grant us, we beg You, so to follow, in humility and simplicity of heart, the footsteps of the Virgin Saint Thérèse, that we may attain to an everlasting reward. Amen.

Special Prayers for Each Day:

First Day

St. Thérèse, privileged Little Flower of Jesus and Mary, I approach you with childlike confidence and deep humility. I lay before you my desires, and beg that through your intercession they may be realized. Did you not promise to spend your heaven doing good upon earth? Grant me according to this promise the favors I am asking from you.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but specially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Confidence in God. We can never have too much confidence in the good God who is so powerful and so merciful. We obtain from Him as much as we hope for.

If you are nothing, do you forget that Jesus is everything? You have only to lose your nothingness in His Infinity and think only of loving Him.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Second Day

O dear little Saint, now that you see the crucified Jesus in heaven, still bearing the wounds caused by sin, you know still more clearly than you did upon earth the value of souls, and the priceless worth of that Precious Blood which He shed to save them. As I am one of those children for whom Christ died, obtain for me all the graces I need in order to profit by that Precious Blood. Use your great power with our divine Lord and pray for me.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Sin. The only grace I ask, O Jesus, is never to offend Thee.

By love and not by fear, does a soul avoid committing the least fault.

Yes, even if I have on my conscience every possible crime, I should lose none of my confidence; my heart breaking with sorrow, I should go and throw myself into the arms of my Savior.

The remembrance of my faults humbles me and makes me afraid to rely on my own strength, which is nothing but weakness.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Third Day

Dear Little Flower, make all things lead me to heaven and God, Whether I look at the sun, the moon, the stars and the vast expanse in which they float, or whether I look at the flowers of the field, the trees of the forest, the beauties of the earth so full of color and so glorious, may they speak to me of the love and power of God; may they all sing His praises in my ear. Like you may I daily love Him more and more in return for His gifts. Teach me often to deny myself in my dealings with others, that I may offer to Jesus many little sacrifices.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: The Use of God’s Gifts. How much benefit have I received from the beauties of nature, bestowed in such abundance. How they raise me to Him who placed such wonders in this land of exile which is only to last a day.

O sparkling nature, if I did not see God in you, you would be naught but a great tomb.

With your little hand which caresses Mary, You sustain the universe and bestow life; and You think of me, O Jesus my little King.

I do not wish creatures to have one atom of my love. I wish to give all to Jesus, since He has shown me that He alone is perfect happiness.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Fourth Day

Dear Little Flower of Carmel, bearing so patiently the disappointments and delays allowed by God, and preserving in the depths of your soul an unchanging peace because you sought only God’s will, ask for me complete conformity to that adorable Will in all the trials and disappointments of life. If the favors I am asking during this Novena are pleasing to God, obtain them for me. If not, it is true I shall feel the refusal keenly, but I too wish only God’s Will, and pray in the words you used, that I “may ever be perfectly fulfilled in me.”

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Abandonment to God. I fear only one thing — to keep my own will; take it, my God, for I choose all that You choose.

The only happiness here below is to strive to be always content with what Jesus gives us.

I can demand nothing with fervor, except the perfect accomplishment of God’s will in my soul.

O my Beloved, I offer myself to You, that You may perfectly accomplish in me Your holy designs, and I will not allow anything created to be an obstacle in their path.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Fifth Day

Little Flower of Jesus, from the very first moment of your religious life you thought only of denying yourself in all things so as to follow Jesus more perfectly; help me to bear patiently the trials of my daily life. Teach me to make use of the trials, the sufferings, the humiliations, that come my way, to learn to know myself better and to love God more.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Patience in Sufferings. I do not fear trials sent by Jesus, for even in the most bitter suffering we can see that it is His loving hand which causes it.

When we are expecting nothing but suffering, we are quite surprised at the least joy; but then suffering itself becomes the greatest of joys when we seek it as a precious treasure.

Far from resembling those beautiful saints who practiced all sorts of austerities from childhood, my penance consisted in breaking my self-will, in keeping back a sharp reply, in doing little kindnesses to those about me, but considering these deeds as nothing.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Sixth Day

St. Thérèse, Patroness of the Missions, be a great missionary throughout the world to the end of time. Remind our Master of His own words, “The harvest is great, but the laborers are few.” Your zeal for souls was so great, obtain a like zeal for those now working for souls, and beg God to multiply their numbers, that the millions to whom Jesus is yet unknown may be brought to know, love and follow Him.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Zeal for souls. Let us work together for the salvation of souls. We have only the day of this life to save souls and to give them to the Lord as proofs of our love.

I tell Jesus that I am glad not to be able to see, with the eyes of my soul, this beautiful heaven which awaits me, in order that He may vouchsafe to open it forever to poor unbelievers.

I cannot perform brilliant works; I cannot preach the Gospel or shed my blood. But what matter? My brothers work in place of me, and I a little child, keep very close to the royal throne. I love for those who are carrying on the warfare.

My deeds, my little sufferings, can make God loved all over the world.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Seventh Day

O little martyr of Love, you know now even better than in the days of your pilgrimage that Love embraces all vocations; that it is Love alone which counts, which unites us perfectly to God and conforms our will with His. All you sought on earth was love; to love Jesus as He had never yet been loved. Use your power in heaven to make us love Him. If only we love Him we shall desire to make Him loved by others; we shall pray much for souls. We shall no longer fear death, for it will unite us to Him forever. Obtain for us the grace to do all for the love of God, to give Him pleasure, to love Him so well that He may be pleased with us as He was with you.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Love of God. I will love God alone and will not have the misfortune of attaching myself to creatures, now that my heart perceive what He has in store for those who love Him.

What attracts me to the kingdom of Heaven is the call of our Lord, the hope of loving Him as I have so desired and the thought that I shall be able to make Him loved by a great number of souls who will bless Him forever.

When Christ said, “Give Me a Drink,” it was the love of His poor creatures that He, the Creator of all things, desired. He thirsted for love.

Remember that the dear Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you, for you alone. Remember that He is consumed with a desire to come into your heart.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Eighth Day

Dear St. Thérèse, like you I have to die one day. I beseech you, obtain from God, by reminding Him of your own precious death, that I may have a holy death, strengthened by the Sacraments of the Church, entirely resigned to the most holy Will of God, and burning with love for Him. May my last words on earth be, “My God. I love You.”

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: Death. It says in the catechism that death is nothing but the separation of the soul and body. Well, I have no fear of a separation which will unite me forever with the good God.

I am happy to die because I shall be able to help souls who are dear to me, far more than I can here below.

Life is not sad; it is very joyous. If you say, “This exile is sad,” I understand you. We are wrong to give the name “life” to something which will end; it is only to the things of Heaven that we should apply this beautiful name.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

Ninth Day

Dear Little St. Thérèse, by love and suffering while you were on earth, you won the power with God which you now enjoy in heaven. Since your life there began, you have showered down countless blessings on this poor world; you have been an instrument made use of by your divine Spouse to work countless miracles. I beg of you to remember all my wants. Sufferings must come to me also, may I use them to love God more, and follow my Jesus better. You are especially the little missionary of love. Make me love Jesus more, and all others for His sake. With all my heart I thank the most Holy Trinity for the wonderful blessings conferred on you, and upon the world through you.

Intercede for us all the days of our life, but especially during this Novena and obtain for us from God the graces and favors we ask through your intercession. Amen.

Reflection for the day: The Mission of the Little Flower. I do not intend to remain inactive in Heaven. I want to work for the Church and for souls. I have asked this of God and I am certain that He will grant my request.

I will spend my Heaven doing good upon earth. This is not impossible, since the angels though always enjoying the beatific vision, watch over us. No, I cannot be at rest until the end of the world.

I beseech Thee, O Jesus, to cast Thy divine glance on a great number of little souls. I beg of Thee to choose in this world a legion of little victims, worthy of Thy Love.

Concluding Prayer (As above)

O Lord, You have said: Unless you become as little children you shall not enter the kingdom of heaven; grant us, we beg You, so to follow, in humility and simplicity of heart, the footsteps of the Virgin blessed Thérèse, that we may attain to an everlasting reward. Amen.

#novena for healing in the church

[greengargouille]

Chocolates for two -Karushuu week 2018

(Yo, never wrote for the pair before, probably won’t write for the other days besides Valentine, but I was inspired so consider this a friendly gift.)

It was alone in a café, surrounded by note sheets, that Asano Gakushuu choose to spend his late afternoon on Valentine’s Day.

Not one of his usual cafés, if usual was a word that could be used for the places he hanged out with the Virtuosos now and then, but at least one that met his standards, at least. Good hygiene, decent coffee, silent enough to work peacefully. Most of all, far enough from Kunugigaoka senior high school to not meet on accident the very students he have been trying to avoid all day, and the sweets they have been trying to give him.

If it was only obligation chocolates, he wouldn’t have minded. It would have been more work, that’s for sure: remembering every girl who offered him something and giving them an appropriate present on White day, as well as a personal comment? That was just troublesome. But so were many things that, in the end, helped distinguish Gakushuu from the others and raised him on the top of the school. A born leader would, of course, show he cared about his subjects in small, subtle ways, and it would look- it would be effortless, a part of his natural charisma. (An apt comparison, ‘natural charisma’. How many part of his public image were carefully crafted, from reading into psychology books, training his expressions in the front of the mirror, or from observing carefully his father?)

However, Gakushuu wouldn’t only receive those kind of presents. Love letters. Heartfelt confessions. Chocolates too expensive for a simple obligation gift. All the things that could make his comrades jealous, or break a few hearts as he had to refuse. He could affront all those trials and end up unscattered, but why waste time and energy on this when he could just avoid the situation all together and focus on what mattered, that is to say, the final exam of the year that would decide in which classes they would all end up?

Really, that’s what the students should be concerned about, instead of romance and dates. Even his own group of friends couldn’t feign disinterest in the festivities. In fact, Ren have been especially pleased by the occasion, but all four of them were guilty, from Koyama’s thrilled expression on the girls he would be able to look down on to Araki’s grin as his bag slowly filled with chocolates. Even Seo’s complaints on Valentine’s day being a commercial day didn’t fool anyone who knew of his -once again- break-up with Tsuchiya Kaho. Oh well. Gakushuu probably should have been disappointed in them, but mostly he was glad they were willing to stay behind to distract their classmates while he left school early.

His plan have been perfect, of course. Nobody had followed him, nobody could have known. Except, of course, for one person.

It was alone in a café, surrounded by note sheets, that Asano Gakushuu choose to spend his late afternoon on Valentine’s Day. However, Akabane Karma had others plans for him in mind.

“Hey.” The boy sat at his table, in front of him, without waiting for any approval. Rude, but wise: Gakushuu wouldn’t have allowed him. “Fancy meeting you here. -As if.” He wasn’t really surprised, to be honest. Just annoyed. “Did you track me down with my phone? Is it something else you have learned back in junior high?”

Gakushuu had memories of a certain incident involving the princess of the Norgo Kingdom. As annoying as class E was, they have been effective, and he had started to slowly understand why once senior high started, along with every test on which he have been able to beat Karma. For each superior score, a revelation on those odd times as a reward. That was what his rival had promised him.

“Eh, you could say that. Say, what are you doing? Studying again?” Karma changed the subject, taking a sheet to inspect it. He knew Gakushuu wouldn’t ignore that, he hated someone going through his belonging. “Not quite. I made a list of all of our classmates and their weak subjects in the precedent tests and exams. Plus the questions they failed to answer in class. -I see, so another study session with the whole class is coming? -Yes, I plan to have us all get the top ranks.” Gakushuu then added after an instant. “You’re free to join us. -No thanks, I’m way better doing my own thing. Are the red names the ones who will need the most help? I’m pretty sure Takahashi-sensei told those two they will go end up in class B. -Not if I can help it.” The reply was firm, as if not allowing anyone to doubt it.

It was a promise. If class A followed Gakushuu, he would lead them to victory. Plus, second year would be easier if the class A stayed united, instead of having a few new students join and having their relationships disturbed. A small voice in his head, far too adult, far too familiar, was telling him a few sacrifices were necessary, even healthy. He should sort out the weak and focus his efforts on the strong. He tried his best to ignore it ; it would probably be years before his father’s toxic influence would disappear, but both of the Asano were making an effort in that direction. Gakushuu wouldn’t have listened anyways. He had his own beliefs.

“My name isn’t on your list.” Karma said after a few minutes. “Of course, I didn’t plan to help you. I only proposed you to join so you could assist me in teaching the others properly. -Just admit you didn’t do your work properly. Here, let me rectify that.” Karma grabbed a pen from Gakushuu’s pencil case. “You better not make any unnecessary com--Here’s your order!” A waitress approached, a smile on her face and a sugary menace on her plate. “Strawberry and white chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream and strawberry syrup! -Yes, it’s for me.” The woman nodded at Karma’s answer. He certainly ordered before coming at his table. “Excuse me, could I get a refill of coffee?” Gakushuu was annoyed at the interruption, but he might as well benefit from it. “Of course, a moment please.”

The waitress left quickly, leaving behind her a strange pink and white beverage, topped with various treats, white chocolate shavings, bits of strawberry and an overly sweet red liquid. Gakushuu didn’t even want to know how many calories was in that drink.

“Of all the things you could spend your money on, you chose to buy that. Do you not care about your health? -My money? I was actually planning on you offering it for me. -Well, you have terrible plans. -Come on. Be nice. Look, I even brought you something as a sign of peace.”

Karma took something out of his bag, and carelessly placed it on the table. Chocolates. An upscale brand, with a sober, tasteful packaging allowing to see its content. All dark, the only kind Gakushuu ate.

“...You’re giving me chocolates. -An amazing deduction. As expected from Kunugigaoka’s second best. -You can skip the ‘second’. What the hell are you even thinking. -Why, can’t even give chocolates to my favorite person in the whole world?” Karma’s voice was as sugary as the milkshake he was drinking from, which make it even more irritating than usual. “What did you put in it? Wasabi? Chili pepper? -Nothing like that. Look.” Karma opened the box before Gakushuu could inspect it: now he had no way of knowing if it already have been opened before. “A perfectly normal assortment of chocolates.”

They did seem ordinary, upon visual inspection. Of course, it was Karma he was talking about, there would be no obvious trace. Gakushuu was tempted to go buy another box to compare, but he doubted people would ignore a single boy buying a chocolate box for himself on Valentine’s day. What a bother.

“I’m not going to eat them. -Really? I thought you were braver than that.” Karma grinned, pleased with himself. “You won’t mind if I take one, then.” His hand wandered over the the chocolates, seemingly at random, before choosing one to gulp on gracelessly. “Delicious.”

This was silly. Gakushuu shouldn’t bother. He didn’t want to either. But, somehow, it still managed to annoy him. How Karma had planned from the start that Asano would refuse and he would get to eat... everything? No, maybe not. It might be a trick so Gakushuu would try to eat one too, like some kind of reverse russian roulette. Then again, Karma knew him better than that, he could have also planned for Gakushuu to come to this conclusion and then have a good laugh once he will have emptied the box. Damn it.

“Hey, I was going to eat that one.” Karma complained as Gakushuu took a chocolate, the red and orange decoration likely promising spiciness. “I know, that’s why I’m eating it. -Then I’m going to eat the coffee one- hey, wait for your turn at least. -You ate more than one before I started, I’m just filling the gap.”

After a few minutes, Gakushuu had to admit that, for all the bad taste Karma could have, he at least knew how to chose his chocolates. Some of the flavors were classic, most were unusual- he savored a delicious Earl Grey flavored ganache chocolate-, but all were sweets he himself might have chosen if given the choice. That, in a way, was irritating too, because how Karma dared know his tastes this well. But, at least, he could have the satisfying feeling, for this time, of the knowledge his rival haven’t been able to outsmart him.

“Well, that was fun.” Karma got up, having finished what he was here for. “I look forward for White Day. -Wait. You don’t seriously think this counted as a Valentine’s present? -It totally counts. It’s chocolate and we’re the 14th. -You ate half of the box. -Twelve on twenty-five. That’s not quite half. That’s fine, I’m willing to share, if you ever feel like eating white chocolate or marshmallow. -Don’t decide your gift by yourself.” Gakushuu grumbled. So this was the trick. “Anyways, I’m paying for your milkshake, so you better pay me back in triple too.”

Karma stuck out his tongue at him, then left, obviously happy with his mischief. What an annoying guy.

Gakushuu organized his notes, then groaned once more.

On the top of the list was added, in another writing, ‘Asano Gakushuu’, with the weakness category filled as ‘Akabane Karma’.

#karushuuweekw18 #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu #assclass #karushuu #gargouille writes #akabane karma #asano gakushuu

[averywiseanimatedcat]

The ultimate reveal

OK so this has been sitting on my computer for ages while I tweak it but I’m sick of playing with it IT IS TIME TO PUT MY MINDS RAMBLINGS OUT THERE.

Summary:

My personal version of how Lucifer would eventually reveal himself to Chloe (involves drama, death...angel wings...the sinnerman...oh and a new power)  and yup. Might be a part 2 comiiinggggggg....? 

Has blood n shit, no smut (yet) 

“I think you’ve interfered with my business long enough Decker…”

Chloe swore through the rag stuffed uncomfortably in in her mouth. The Sinnerman smirked, his breath brushing the skin on her face. He raised his gun up to Chloes forehead. Just as she closed her eyes, waiting for the end,  a massive thud startled her captor. Looking around, the guards surrounding them looked just as confused, the thump came again, louder this time. It was coming from the massive metal doors that lead down into the underground of the warehouse. The gaurds all raised their weapons, forming a semi circle around the doors as the horrendous sound shook the floor. For a moment, the warehouse fell silent. Only the hushed mumblings of the gaurds could be heard. Suddenly the unmistakable sound of the hinges ripping from the concrete walls assaulted their ears. The lock held for a moment before breaking and clanging to the floor.  One contorted door creeked and slammed to the ground, flinging a cloud of concrete dust into the faces of the shocked men. The guards coughed as they peered into the darkness, the second door had vanished. It was silent for a moment, until a pair of glowing red eyes materialized from the shadow. The men fired into the doorway, and the unmistakable high pitch sound of bullets ricocheting off metal echoed around the building. The second door flew from the darkness and collected half of the Sinnermans men like bowling pins, sending them flying across the warehouse. At the same time, a huge, white blur unfurled from the gloom and swept away the others with a single, smooth stroke. Chloe tore her eyes away for a second, only to be further confused. The Sinnerman had barely twitched,  he stood with the same sticky grin on his lips, watching the chaos unfold. One word slipped from his mouth that made Chloes whole body run cold  

“Lucifer.”

Stepping out from the dark, a crimson skinned devil revealed himself.  His stride was unmistakable, he wore the same waistcoat and shoes she commented on earlier in the morning. She’d known him to be a fan of patterned clothing. He had to fold his massive wingspan to fit out the doorway, a the uncurled into the warehouse, Chloe gasped at the size of them.

“I knew I couldn’t keep you contained for long…not from the detective here anyway.”

The Sinnerman stepped infront of her, casually swinging the pistol around his finger.

A voice rumbled through the warehouse that seemed to sink into Chloes bones, husky and deep, it took her mind many seconds to realize it was Lucifer speaking  

“Don’t you touch her.”

“Oh I won’t…I mean. Who would? With you as her guard dog…”

He laughed and Lucifer grew visibly agitated.

“Look at this….the great Lucifer. The devil…the most evil creature in all of creation, reduced to what…”

“I’m not EVIL!”

Lucifers wings vibrated with rage, and his eyes appeared to sing with fire. The Sinnerman did not flinch, he tutted and replied

“Empty threats…I served you for millennia you know, did your bidding, your dirty work. Tortured the souls you wanted tortured. Went there, did this…and what did you do? Left me?

A look of recognition crossed Lucifers face

“Hell has gone to well…hell, since you left. None of the other demons will listen to me . I was their master for years, and now they treat me like one of these pathetic humans you care for so dearly!”

“I thought you would be happy, you dirty lot could do what you like. Run hell how you always wanted.”

“AH! But that’s just the thing, they can’t decide who to listen to. All they can scream is master master where is our master!

“So what, you came down here and did all this just to send me back to hell?”

“Essentially yes. Weeell…that was the original plan. Then I found this whole criminal mastermind thing quite fun.”  

Lucifers eyes flicked to Chloe for the first time, she instinctively looked away, unable to hold the burning gaze.

The Sinnerman grinned at the exchange between them, he gently caressed the gun in his hands.

“Now I know why you like it here so much Lucifer, but despite my attraction to the place, I can’t ignore my primal duty to hell, I’ve had this…itch. Since I came here, unfortunately my creation burdens me with a task, hell must have a ruler.”

He slowly brought the gun to rest on the side of Chloe’s head, tilting it over uncomfortably.

Lucifer went to move but the Sinnerman raised a single finger and stopped him in his tracks

“Ah, ah, ah little devil….you have something I want.”

The Sinnerman held out his hand, his long, thin fingers gracefully beckon at the devil. Lucifer furrowed his brows in confusion. The Sinnerman rolled his eyes and sighed

“They’re in your left breast pocket.”

In a wave, the crimson colour in Lucifers face and eyes melted away. The wings remained, but once again the Lucifer Chloe knew stood before them. He suddenly seemed very weak as he reached under his jacket. Pausing, he locked eyes with Chloe. After all their cases, the near death experiences they’d been through, the ridiculous events and emotional trials…after all that she could not read the feeling that passed between them in that moment. But it pushed something inside her, something desperate and urgent, like it was something she should know. Ripping his gaze away, he presented two strange, curved blades from his pocket. He started to step foreward, but the Sinnerman tutted again and approached himself. The exchange of the knives was careful and suspicious, but neither party acted. As he retreated, 3 of the gaurds who had managed to recover  surrounded them. They all trained their guns on Lucifer. The Sinnerman chuckled and admired the hardware in his hands.

“Such craftsmanship…I knew you would bring them. But I think you’ve been away to long…you’ve forgotten…I’m not like you, I don’t care much for deals…”

“NO!”

Lucifers voice bellowed through the warehouse, the seconds seemed to melt into hours as the Sinnerman gripped the pistol in his hands, aiming it at Chloes head. Whatever sound travelled through the air, Chloe did not hear it. What she saw played out silently like those action movies Trixie and Maze loved watching together. In the split second after the Sinnerman raised his hand, Chloe saw Lucifers face travel through a thousand emotions, she watched on helplessly as the 3 gaurds braced their weapons  against their shoulders. Time appeared to slow, and what transpired would be something she played over in her head, again…and again… Lucifers wings arched like a bird about to take flight, his whole body curled down into a crouch. As his hands met the floor, a blinding light sprung from the ground, as it blinded her a force catapulted her backwards. Still strapped to the chair, she landed painfully on her side, her head connecting hard with the concrete. Still unable to see, she struggled, only to find her arms and legs had been freed. Lost on her hands and knees, her vision began to clear and she could see her hands spread out on the floor, bruised and bleeding from her fall. Standing, multiple dull thuds pierced the ringing in her ears, she could see the Sinnerman standing a few feet infront of her. At her feet, one of the knives…snatching it up she did her best to run before he noticed her. With all the force she could muster, she drove the knife into the centre of the Sinnermans back. He whole body went ridged, contorting, his dropped the pistol in his hands.  A ghastly, wheezing sound escaped his lungs before he fell to the floor. She quickly retrieved is pistol, unsure if he was dead or alive. But it was empty…Looking up, she realized that she haddn’t just fallen, she’d been throw halfway across the building. And back where they had started, a lone body lay lifeless on the floor, white wings stained red.

“Lucifer!”

It took her only a second to reach him,despite the dizziness threatening to knock her over a second time. Kneeling beside him, she worked quickly to find some sign of life.

“Lucifer?!”

Cupping his chin in her hands, skin still radiated warmth against her palms. There was no pulse…no breath…his eyes were closed. Blood had pooled bellow his chest, and that patterned waitcoat she had thought so unusual for him was ruined by bulletholes.

Clutching his hand, she sat back trying to swallow to sob in her throat. He couldn’t be gone, not like this. Not when she had just learnt the truth.

--------------

Lucifer woke to the familiar drone of screams and creaking rock.

“Bloody hell…”

Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on the cold, grey floor of his win kingdom.  

“…literally.”

There was no one around to laugh at that,  and there wouldn’t be again. Demons didn’t have much sense of humor.

Getting to his feet and dusting himself off, he somehow knew Chloe would be safe. As the Sinnerman fired his final shots, Lucifer had seen Chloe closing on him with the knife. All the other guards would’ve at least be knocked out by whatever it was he had done. Nothing like that had ever happened, but he would have millennia to think about it now.  

Hell looked very much the same, nothing ever changed here. He went to go and find his old quarters; no doubt some of those pesky demons had taken it over for themselves, squabbling over who would wear the throne since he was gone. His mind void, he walked in silence past the various doors and entrances to the prisons people created for themselves. There was a strange cramp in his hand that had worsened ever since he woke up. Flexing it, he tried to shake the feeling and after a visual expectation it seemed to fade. I’m gong crazy, he thought. If I haven’t already.

The door to his throne room was up ahead, he stopped and gazed at the magnificently decorated doors for a moment. One door was ajar, he snorted and thought about how he hated leaving them like that, letting any old demon walk in as they please to pester him.

He went to take a step but was jolted back suddenly, like someone had tied a rope around his waist. Suddenly spinning, the world was not still, disorientated, he tried to right himself but got stunned backwards again. Staggering, his vision faded to black as he hit the floor again.

Chloe was trying to wipe the tears from her face, she didn’t want the backup team to see her in such a mess. Suddenly there was a gasp and a rush of air. She was knocked backwards before scrambling up again to a sight that made her want to scream. Lucifers eyes shoot open and his body was contorting, causing his wings to thrash wildly. Gulping for air, he franticly pawed at his chest in confusion while he cried out  

“Chl….Chloe?!”

Coughing and spluttering, he spat up blood and tried to get to his feet. But his legs fell out from under him, causing him to land awkwardly on his side with a grunt, Chloe ducked under a wing and rushed forward to help him.

“No! No, stay down!”

He sat up as Chloe ripped open his vest and shirt, using her jacket, she wiped away the drying blood and found…nothing. No wounds, no scars… dropping the jacket she sat back on her knees in shock whispering  

“That’s impossible…”

Slowly, her eyes took in the sight before her. Lucifer sitting, unharmed with his massive angel wings spread out on either side. They seemed to glow with a divine aura.. Clearly dazzed, his eyes were wild as they darted around the warehouse

“How did I get back here….”

He looked at Chloe with an accusing stare

“What did you do?!”

Chloe struggled to make words and stuttered

“Nothing….I….you were dead…you got shot!?”

“Yes…I noticed.”

He looked down at his ruined outfit and sighed heavily. His wings folded back and disappeared. Chloe shook her head in disbelief and breathed

“How are you here?”

Her eyes showed fright, but her voice was happy and shivering. A fresh flood of tears fell from her eyes and she threw her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her shaking body and buried his face in her shirt, breathing in her smell and letting her cry into his shoulder. Eventually she let go and asked

“Can you stand up?”

Lucifer nodded and she helped him to get to his feet, which were weak and struggling to hold his weight. Without even thinking, Chloe lent up and kissed him hard on the lips. Just as quickly, she withdrew in shock at herself, but kept her hands on him at all times. Lucifers mind was a mess, foggy from the being dead for about 3 minutes thing, but did Chloe just kiss him? Resolving to talk about it later, he shook his head and suggested they find a different shirt for him because everyone would wonder why there’s blood all over his and 3 holes for gunshot wounds. Chloe agreed and swapped his for one off the guard. He shriveled up his nose at the cheap material but kept quiet. Chloe noted the large scars on his shoulder blades she’d seen in his apartment long ago as he shrugged on the fresh shirt had gone.

‘No that’s where I cut my wings off…well Maze did, I told her to.’

Backup arrived soon after and they were separated to be checked by the ambulance staff. Lucifer complained bitterly but sat while he was checked over. Chloe had allot of cuts and bruises, a mild concussion and rope burn. The second she was let go, she found Lucifer, who was still being held by the ambulance staff who were completely bamboozled by the amount of blood on him without any wounds.

“Ah, finally Detective can you tell these morons I’m FINE and they can stop groping me.”  

Chloe gestured to the paramedics, they seemed unconvinced but retreated into their ambulance. Chloe and Lucifer stared at each other for a minute, the events of the day spun around in Chloes head and she suddenly felt dizzy again. Lucifer quickly grabbed her arm and she steadied herself.

“I’m fine…just…actual devil thing…”

Lucifer quickly snatched his hand away and retreated, she stopped him and gently touched his forearm

“No…it’s alright. I mean…it makes more sense than any of the other ideas I had.”

“And what were those?”

“I don’t know…lunatic…son of some criminal mastermind.”

Lucifer smirked

“Not entirely untrue.”

Chloe smiled and nodded

“Oh…right. Yea.”

An awkward silence fell between them before Lucifer offered

“I think you need to go home, rest. You took a nasty fall.”

“I did. I’m probably not ok to drive though…”

“I’ll drive you.”

The journey to Chloes place was silent, pulling up, the lights were all off. Trixie must’ve been with Dan. Maze was never able to be pinned down lately. Before Chloe got out of the car, she looked at Lucifer, who seemed to be avoiding her eye.

“You know I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway…why don’t you come in. We can talk about it.”

“I really think you should rest…”

“I don’t think lying in bed all night thinking about how my partner has been the actual devil this entire time counts as rest.”

“If you insist, Detective. But I think I’ll go home first and change…”

“Alright. Aslong as you promise to come back.”

Lucifer paused, looking like a cornered animal. Eventually he smiled, the first genuine smile of the day.

“Promise.”

And now she knew he wasn’t lying. Sure enough, he stuck to his word. And 20 minutes later he knocked on her door in fresh clothes. No trace of the drama that unfolded visible.

#lucifer fanfic #lucifer wingfic #deckerstar #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #chloe x lucifer #lucifer on fox #luciwingfic

[lawgoddess]

EDITION #2227 – MAY 8, 2020  

Before commenting to the newsletter, please read the FAQ first. mxa_news is now cross-posting on tumblr at mxa-news.tumblr.com. Follow us there! News/Resources a_shot_of_brad: Bradley vs Technology (video) merlincastnews: BRADLEY JAMES: HOSTING SECOND CHARITY QUIZ - 'MEDICI' THEMED. FRIDAY 15 MAY 2020 (VIDEO) merlincastnews: BRADLEY JAMES: VIDEO OF 'MEDICI' CAST Q&A SESSION Challenges/Fests camelot_drabble: Prompt #411 Sign-ups! Discussion/Meta merlin_forever: Merlin Rewatch Reminder: 1X09- Excalibur Fanfic: In Progress [M/A] OnSomeMerlinBs: they were just a couple of idiots in love (1/3) (PG-13) 1343 It seems like Arthur and Merlin are the only people who don't know they're both completely in love with each other. [M/A] Sunfall_of_Ennien: Just Don't Run Away (2/4) (NC-17) 4842 While it is Arthur's actions that incite the wrath of King Uther, it is Merlin's mouth--and his loyalty to Arthur--that get him into trouble. [M/A] Cello_trash: Making Windows Where There Were Once Walls (2/4) (PG-13) 4502 When Merlin entered his chambers, Arthur was already awake, and ordered Merlin to prepare two horses for a hunting trip. “Is it too much to hope that you’ll be taking Leon or Lancelot,” Merlin had asked, his voice laced with fake sweetness. “Stop being lazy, Merlin. It is an honor to be invited on a hunting trip with the king,” Arthur replied haughtily. “An invitation implies there being a choice, sire.” Or, yet another magic reveal fic with lots of angst, but also a fluffy happy ending with Merthur romance, because apparently I think there can never be enough of them. [M/A] kio_kio: Artea Pedrazzini, Queen of Carloman (1/4) (NC-17) 2254 No one had heard the country named "Carloman". However, all the papers looked correct, so they were let into the gates, but they were told to go straight to see the king. The king was suspicious. He kept most people out of the throne room, only his most trusted and just enough people to not make it look suspicious. His most trusted knights, Merlin, and himself. The rest of his knights at all entrances and exits, just in case. They may be a new enemy, or maybe a future ally. With Morgana still at large, it was always better safe than sorry. The doors to the throne room had opened and 6 people walked in. (Or: Arthur and Merlin meet their female counterparts from alternate realities. Sexy shenanigans may happen.) [M/A] Sheheryar_Shahid: Hidden (1/?) (G) 2179 Ever since the Dolma, Arthur has been looking for more examples of magic being used for good and a young boy brought in for trial brings him an opportunity and some revelations that change everything he was ever taught to believe in. [M/A] eliobelio: The Golden-Eyed King (1/?) (PG-13) 1471 Merlin, the young warlock destined to protect the arrogant future king, never imagined that his existence in Camelot would lead to discoveries beyond his imagination. First love, the discovery that the object of his destiny is more magical than he seems, the true owner of the throne in question... this was going to be one hell of a ride. Fanfic: Complete [M/A] martinsahedgehog: To Be King (PG-13) 1513 Sherlock crossover- Moriarty has cursed King John, leaving Sherlock to look after their kingdom and deal with this annoying king and his equally annoying knights. [M/A] SwanFloatieKnight: An Attempt At Skype (G) 1215 There is one thing that Arthur would never have expected of Uther: that his father ever would get a webcam. [M/A] eliobelio: The King’s Return (NR) 2509 After a century of waiting, pining, desperately trying to remember his lost friend, Merlin finally sees Arthur’s return. But, as the feelings that had been buried hundreds of years ago begin to resurface, and Arthur enters an unknown and terrifying world, it will not be an easy ride. [M/A] SwanFloatieKnight: The Grade (G) 333 Arthur only has one braincell, but it looks like he doesn't use it all the time. Maybe he should though. (Series: Part 9 of the Camelot Crack Drabbles series) [M/A] Astralda0602: He Is My Friend (G) 4711 Arthur Pendragon always knew his father could be cruel, but just how cruel he did not realise. Only when his only friend's life was at stake did he finally figure it out. With Merlin almost having died because of Uther's pride, Arthur finally confronts his father. [M/A] YellowAndVeritablyBonaFide: Jumpers aren’t supposed to be this bothersome (G) 4655 The Pendragon’s host a casual get together while Uther is away. Arthur spends the entire time with Merlin (of course) until... he spends a moment with Gwen and Merlin takes it entirely the wrong way. [M/A] HonoraryFox : Here's to second chances? (PG-13) 4501 For the 'Knife to the throat' square on my bad things happen bingo card. Merlin returns home to an entirely too tidy house and he knows something is wrong. (Series: Part 1 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo 2020 series) [M/A] BlueBigfoot: Crushing Feelings (G) 2429 Arthur is rattled when a sorcerer calls him a coward moments before her execution. He is finally forced to face his feelings. [M/A] 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf: The Affairs of Dragons (R) 2569 Men should never meddle in them. It tends to end in most disastrous fashion. For the men, anyways. (Series: Part 6 of the Tales of a Dragon and His Prince series) [M/A] litbeyondmeasure: The Hearts of Men (NR) 8203 He pushed up his crown with a crooked smile that sent Arthur's stomach into cartwheels. It was much too big, and the previous utterance of the reason being that it was proof of Arthur's big head slid aside at the spark that danced across Merlin's eyes. When Arthur Pendragon finds his servant tied to a stake on a trek through the kingdom, his heart is left shattered for reasons he can't explain. And, as time wears on, his feelings flourish into something deeper than friendship. Try as he might, he cannot prevail in this particular battle. With everything to prove as a monarch and even more to lose, Arthur must either relinquish his emotion or his throne. But the hearts of men are complex creatures and cannot be reasoned with. [M/A] USER: The Boy I Was (The Man You Made Me) (G) 705 Arthur realizes just how much he’s changed since Merlin came around. [M/A] wordsss: the Definitive guide to King Arthur's laughter (G) 1298 Arthur doesn’t laugh as often as he should, but when he does, he picks from a handful of curated sounds. [M/A] Mischel: And the Reason Is You (G) 3833 What if Merlin took little Mordred to hide in Arthur's chambers instead of Morgana's? Would Arthur betray his own father in order to help them or would he hand them over to the guards instead? When Merlin bursts through the door and sees Arthur there, he has no idea what the prince will do. But the length to which Arthur is willing to go for Merlin will surprise them both. Set in the episode 1x08 The Beginning of the End. (Series: Part 8 of the Merlin Rewatch 2020 series) EDITION #2227 – MAY 8, 2020  Before commenting to the newsletter, please read the FAQ first. mxa_news is now cross-posting on tumblr at mxa-news.tumblr.com. Follow us there! News/Resources a_shot_of_brad: Bradley vs Technology (video) merlincastnews: BRADLEY JAMES: HOSTING SECOND CHARITY QUIZ - 'MEDICI' THEMED. FRIDAY 15 MAY 2020 (VIDEO) merlincastnews: BRADLEY JAMES: VIDEO OF 'MEDICI' CAST Q&A SESSION Challenges/Fests camelot_drabble: Prompt #411 Sign-ups! Discussion/Meta merlin_forever: Merlin Rewatch Reminder: 1X09- Excalibur Fanfic: In Progress [M/A] OnSomeMerlinBs: they were just a couple of idiots in love (1/3) (PG-13) 1343 It seems like Arthur and Merlin are the only people who don't know they're both completely in love with each other. [M/A] Sunfall_of_Ennien: Just Don't Run Away (2/4) (NC-17) 4842 While it is Arthur's actions that incite the wrath of King Uther, it is Merlin's mouth--and his loyalty to Arthur--that get him into trouble. [M/A] Cello_trash: Making Windows Where There Were Once Walls (2/4) (PG-13) 4502 When Merlin entered his chambers, Arthur was already awake, and ordered Merlin to prepare two horses for a hunting trip. “Is it too much to hope that you’ll be taking Leon or Lancelot,” Merlin had asked, his voice laced with fake sweetness. “Stop being lazy, Merlin. It is an honor to be invited on a hunting trip with the king,” Arthur replied haughtily. “An invitation implies there being a choice, sire.” Or, yet another magic reveal fic with lots of angst, but also a fluffy happy ending with Merthur romance, because apparently I think there can never be enough of them. [M/A] kio_kio: Artea Pedrazzini, Queen of Carloman (1/4) (NC-17) 2254 No one had heard the country named "Carloman". However, all the papers looked correct, so they were let into the gates, but they were told to go straight to see the king. The king was suspicious. He kept most people out of the throne room, only his most trusted and just enough people to not make it look suspicious. His most trusted knights, Merlin, and himself. The rest of his knights at all entrances and exits, just in case. They may be a new enemy, or maybe a future ally. With Morgana still at large, it was always better safe than sorry. The doors to the throne room had opened and 6 people walked in. (Or: Arthur and Merlin meet their female counterparts from alternate realities. Sexy shenanigans may happen.) [M/A] Sheheryar_Shahid: Hidden (1/?) (G) 2179 Ever since the Dolma, Arthur has been looking for more examples of magic being used for good and a young boy brought in for trial brings him an opportunity and some revelations that change everything he was ever taught to believe in. [M/A] eliobelio: The Golden-Eyed King (1/?) (PG-13) 1471 Merlin, the young warlock destined to protect the arrogant future king, never imagined that his existence in Camelot would lead to discoveries beyond his imagination. First love, the discovery that the object of his destiny is more magical than he seems, the true owner of the throne in question... this was going to be one hell of a ride. Fanfic: Complete [M/A] martinsahedgehog: To Be King (PG-13) 1513 Sherlock crossover- Moriarty has cursed King John, leaving Sherlock to look after their kingdom and deal with this annoying king and his equally annoying knights. [M/A] SwanFloatieKnight: An Attempt At Skype (G) 1215 There is one thing that Arthur would never have expected of Uther: that his father ever would get a webcam. [M/A] eliobelio: The King’s Return (NR) 2509 After a century of waiting, pining, desperately trying to remember his lost friend, Merlin finally sees Arthur’s return. But, as the feelings that had been buried hundreds of years ago begin to resurface, and Arthur enters an unknown and terrifying world, it will not be an easy ride. [M/A] SwanFloatieKnight: The Grade (G) 333 Arthur only has one braincell, but it looks like he doesn't use it all the time. Maybe he should though. (Series: Part 9 of the Camelot Crack Drabbles series) [M/A] Astralda0602: He Is My Friend (G) 4711 Arthur Pendragon always knew his father could be cruel, but just how cruel he did not realise. Only when his only friend's life was at stake did he finally figure it out. With Merlin almost having died because of Uther's pride, Arthur finally confronts his father. [M/A] YellowAndVeritablyBonaFide: Jumpers aren’t supposed to be this bothersome (G) 4655 The Pendragon’s host a casual get together while Uther is away. Arthur spends the entire time with Merlin (of course) until... he spends a moment with Gwen and Merlin takes it entirely the wrong way. [M/A] HonoraryFox : Here's to second chances? (PG-13) 4501 For the 'Knife to the throat' square on my bad things happen bingo card. Merlin returns home to an entirely too tidy house and he knows something is wrong. (Series: Part 1 of the Bad Things Happen Bingo 2020 series) [M/A] BlueBigfoot: Crushing Feelings (G) 2429 Arthur is rattled when a sorcerer calls him a coward moments before her execution. He is finally forced to face his feelings. [M/A] 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf: The Affairs of Dragons (R) 2569 Men should never meddle in them. It tends to end in most disastrous fashion. For the men, anyways. (Series: Part 6 of the Tales of a Dragon and His Prince series) [M/A] litbeyondmeasure: The Hearts of Men (NR) 8203 He pushed up his crown with a crooked smile that sent Arthur's stomach into cartwheels. It was much too big, and the previous utterance of the reason being that it was proof of Arthur's big head slid aside at the spark that danced across Merlin's eyes. When Arthur Pendragon finds his servant tied to a stake on a trek through the kingdom, his heart is left shattered for reasons he can't explain. And, as time wears on, his feelings flourish into something deeper than friendship. Try as he might, he cannot prevail in this particular battle. With everything to prove as a monarch and even more to lose, Arthur must either relinquish his emotion or his throne. But the hearts of men are complex creatures and cannot be reasoned with. [M/A] USER: The Boy I Was (The Man You Made Me) (G) 705 Arthur realizes just how much he’s changed since Merlin came around. [M/A] wordsss: the Definitive guide to King Arthur's laughter (G) 1298 Arthur doesn’t laugh as often as he should, but when he does, he picks from a handful of curated sounds. [M/A] Mischel: And the Reason Is You (G) 3833 What if Merlin took little Mordred to hide in Arthur's chambers instead of Morgana's? Would Arthur betray his own father in order to help them or would he hand them over to the guards instead? When Merlin bursts through the door and sees Arthur there, he has no idea what the prince will do. But the length to which Arthur is willing to go for Merlin will surprise them both. Set in the episode 1x08 The Beginning of the End. (Series: Part 8 of the Merlin Rewatch 2020 series)

#mxa news merlin x arthur news merthur news merthur merthur fanfic merlin fic #merlin cast news #merlin fanfiction

[dfroza]

have you found your treasure in an eternal Tree?

(and simultaneously have you found my heart as a friend?)

for there is a pure Tree of life that connects us, and we must become as humble children to see its Light

A point made clear in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the book of Matthew in chapter 18 where we see the True illumination of “Home” and the path of the Son that leads us there:

Around that same time, the disciples came to Jesus and questioned Him about the kingdom of heaven.

A Disciple: In the kingdom of heaven, who is the greatest?

Jesus called over a little child. He put His hand on the top of the child’s head.

Jesus: This is the truth: unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. In that kingdom, the most humble who are most like this child are the greatest. And whoever welcomes a child, welcomes her in My name, welcomes Me. And do not lead astray one of the weak and friendless who believes in Me. If you do, it would be better for you to be dragged down with a millstone and drowned in the bottom of the sea.

Beware indeed of those in a world filled with obstacles and temptations that cause people to turn away from Me. Those temptations are woven into the fabric of a world not yet redeemed, but beware to anyone who lures righteous women and men off the narrow path. If your hand constantly grasps at the things of this world rather than serves the Kingdom—cut it off and throw it away. If your foot is always leading you to wander, then cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to hobble, crippled, into the kingdom of life than to burn in hell with two hands and two feet. And if your eye always focuses on things that cause you to sin, then pull your eye out and throw it away. It is better for you to see the kingdom of life with one eye than to see the fires of hell with perfect sight.

Make sure that you do not look down on the little ones, on those who are further behind you on the path of righteousness. For I tell you: they are watched over by those most beloved messengers who are always in the company of My Father in heaven. [The Son of Man has come to save all those who are lost.]

The Book of Matthew, Chapter 18:1-11 (The Voice)

to be accompanied by the lines of Psalm 17 and Proverbs 17 for Today’s date of October 17:

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17:1-5 (The Message)

and the complete Psalm in The Voice:

[Psalm 17]

A prayer of David.

Listen, O Eternal One, to my cry for justice.

These words of mine are true—turn Your ear toward me.

Announce that I am free of all the charges against me—only You can see into my heart to know that to be true.

Treat me with fairness; look at me with justice.

You have searched me—my heart and soul—awakened me from dreaming and tested me.

You’ve found nothing against me.

I have resolved not to sin in what I say.

The path violent men have followed,

I will not travel. Violence is not my way.

Your ways and Your voice now guide my journey.

I will press on—moving steadfastly forward along Your path.

I will not look back. I will not stumble.

I am crying aloud to You, O True God, for I long to know Your answer.

Hear me, O God. Hear my plea. Hear my prayer for help.

Put Your marvelous love on display for all to see.

Liberator of those who long for shelter beside You,

set them safely away from their enemies, ever welcomed by grace.

Keep close watch over me as the apple of Your eye;

shelter me in the shadow of Your wings.

Protect me from the wicked who are poised to attack,

from the enemies swarming around me and closing in quickly.

Like clay baking in the sun, their hearts have hardened;

arrogance spills from their mouths.

They’ve tracked me down like quarry.

They’re surrounding me

and are poised to throw me down into the dirt.

Like a lion—crouching in the brush—they are ready to tear me apart.

Like young lions in their hiding places, they are poised to strike.

Rise up and confront them, O Eternal One! Make them pay.

By Your sword, set me free from my wicked enemies!

May Your rescue find me here.

By Your hand, save me from my enemies, Eternal One.

Save me from men whose hopes are rooted in this world.

But as for those You cherish,

may they feast on all You have set aside for them;

may their children never be in need;

may they have enough so their children will inherit their wealth.

But as for me, my hope is to see Your face.

When I am vindicated, I will look upon the holy face of God,

and when I awake, the longing of my soul will be satisfied in the glow of Your presence.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Voice)

and lines of wisdom from Today’s chapter in the book of Proverbs:

[Wisdom’s Virtues]

A simple, humble life with peace and quiet

is far better than an opulent lifestyle with nothing

but quarrels and strife at home.

A wise, intelligent servant will be honored above a shameful son.

He’ll even end up having a portion left to him in his master’s will.

In the same way that gold and silver are refined by fire,

the Lord purifies your heart by the tests and trials of life.

Those eager to embrace evil listen to slander,

for a liar loves to listen to lies.

Mock the poor, will you?

You insult your Creator every time you do!

If you make fun of others’ misfortune,

you’d better watch out—your punishment is on its way.

Grandparents have the crowning glory of life:

grandchildren!

And it’s only proper for children to take pride in their parents.

It is not proper for a leader to lie and deceive,

and don’t expect excellent words to be spoken by a fool.

Wise instruction is like a costly gem.

It turns the impossible into success.

Love overlooks the mistakes of others,

but dwelling on the failures of others devastates friendships.

One word of correction breaks open a teachable heart,

but a fool can be corrected a hundred times

and still not know what hit him.

Rebellion thrives in an evil man,

so a messenger of vengeance will be sent to punish him.

It’s safer to meet a grizzly bear robbed of her cubs

than to confront a reckless fool.

The one who returns evil for good

can expect to be treated the same way for the rest of his life.

Don’t be one who is quick to quarrel,

for an argument is hard to stop,

and you never know how it will end,

so don’t even start down that road!

There is nothing God hates more

than condemning the one who is innocent

and acquitting the one who is guilty.

Why pay tuition to educate a fool?

For he has no intention of acquiring true wisdom.

A dear friend will love you no matter what,

and a family sticks together through all kinds of trouble.

It’s stupid to run up bills you’ll never be able to pay

or to cosign for the loan of your friend.

Save yourself the trouble and don’t do either one.

If you love to argue,

then you must be in love with sin.

For the one who loves to boast is only asking for trouble.

The one with a perverse heart never has anything good to say,

and the chronic liar tumbles into constant trouble.

Parents of a numskull will have many sorrows,

for there’s nothing about his lifestyle that will make them proud.

A joyful, cheerful heart brings healing to both body and soul.

But the one whose heart is crushed

struggles with sickness and depression.

When you take a secret bribe,

your actions reveal your true character,

for you pervert the ways of justice.

Even the face of a wise man shows his intelligence.

But the wandering eyes of a fool will look for wisdom everywhere

except right in front of his nose.

A father grieves over the foolishness of his child,

and bitter sorrow fills his mother.

It’s horrible to persecute a holy lover of God

or to strike an honorable man for his integrity!

Can you bridle your tongue when your heart is under pressure?

That’s how you show that you are wise.

An understanding heart keeps you cool, calm, and collected,

no matter what you’re facing.

When even a fool bites his tongue

he’s considered wise.

So shut your mouth when you are provoked—

it will make you look smart.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Passion Translation)

my personal reading in the Scriptures for October 17, the 25th day of Autumn and day 290 of the year:

[craftypeaceturtle]

HAPPY (incredibly late) BIRTHDAY!

No real relationship, make of it what you will!

Summary: Requested by Anon, it’s Jack’s birthday!

Warning: Nothing.

Note: I know, I know I know this is super late but hey! Better late than never, right? Being honest I forgot about the anon asking for this fic and I wasn’t going to do anything for his B-day anyway hence the weird timing. I mean no offence to anyone!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack quickly busied himself in his parent’s kitchen, first it was to help with the washing up but then he noticed that the floor was a little dusty. But then of course he couldn’t leave it at just that, then he had to wipe down every surface while he also started to think about maybe sorting out the fridge. Well… if you’re going to do the fridge then might as well do all of the cabinets. His ma couldn’t help but watch on with a knowing smile. He always did this whenever he was trying to get his mind off of something.

 In truth (and he really didn’t want to sound ungrateful or like a spoiled child) but he expected his birthday to be a little more… busy?

 Being 27, he didn’t exactly want to go to Kid’s Kingdom and eat a feast of pizza and jelly while he played pirates with his besties, but he still wanted to do something. Anything!  Usually his siblings would all come down, even if it was just for the cake, and his parents would try to make it somewhat different from the other 365 days. But this time apparently both of his brothers couldn’t make it because their families had fallen down from some sickness and his sister was busy doing her work projects and the other sister gave no answer. His parents tried to make it special but just them three alone watching TV wasn’t exactly something… memorable.

He couldn’t help but reminiscence on his previous birthday, he had been visiting America to his parent’s chagrin and his friends made sure to make the day out of it with sweet simple gestures. Still remembering the argument with Mark about how there was no way in Hell he could’ve actually baked the cake himself, he welcomed the timid smile as he swiped his gloved hands over one particularly stubborn splotch of… something on the work surface. It was impossible for Mark to ever create something so amazing!

 His ma stood leaning on the doorway leading into the kitchen, she would normally say that she felt guilty that Jack wasn’t really having the best birthday ever but this time she just rolled her eyes. He was probably singing ‘It’s a hard knock life for us’ in his head. Jack’s dad carefully crept out while he was sure she was still watching him.

 It was almost time.

 1:02:32

 Sneaking into the small hut that Jack had once called his home and recording space, his dad rubbed his hands together at the sight that beheld itself to him. With each pathway vigorously inspected, he clutched on to the tin foil wrapped cheese and ham sandwiches he had prepared. He was certain not to starve them before the big reveal.

 Once she was sure that her husband had returned from feeding them, she stepped forward and tapped Jack’s shoulder. “As much as I love it when you clean the kitchen, it’s your birthday! Go sit by the TV, we’ve got everything sorted!”

“I know, I j-“

“Nope. Fuck off ya!” His ma playfully grinned as she shooed him away.

“Ma!” Jack finally gave in; he had learned enough times growing up that there was nothing stopping her once she had made a plan. Ever since starting YouTube sitting around felt pointless and guaranteed for him to fidget; Jack had grew accustomed to having something to do right at his fingertips. There was always going to be a thumbnail he could improve or another game he could download and the infinity of comments just begged to be replied to.  

 That’s what he would’ve done but the internet here was absolute gobshi- I mean poop (no swearing, his parents could never drop the habit of scolding him and his siblings by a harsh yell of ‘watch your language’).  

 It was only 9pm yet he started to head up to the spare bedroom where he would sleep. Randomly his parents still wanted to carry the tradition of him staying over for at least the night when it was his ‘special day’. He wasn’t about to waste a good couple of hours mindlessly watching the TV flicker and, on the plus side, maybe then he could wake up early enough to make a proper breakfast. That would be nice.

 00:59:00:

 Oh they couldn’t get any luckier! It was almost like Jack was specifically playing up to their entire charade. Nudging Jack’s dad, his ma felt the coils turning in her head as she whispered her plots to his dad. The idea was pure genius. They are sure to thank Jack for making that opportunity a possibility when he woke up.

 As his ma swiftly ran down the road, his dad knocked on the little hut’s door to warn them all of their new plans. There was only one fatal flaw in this all. The scowl tensed his face at the thought of this one simple thing completely ruining everything they had spent the last few weeks working on. No, it wouldn’t fail. That was not a choice right now.

The clouds of Ireland had already choked any trace of sunlight yet coupled with the whipping winds and the icy chill left over from December, the whole place was smothered.

 Jack didn’t hear his ma quietly sneaking back inside with a hundreds upon hundreds of bulging bags. Jack didn’t hear their footsteps pitter patter along the creaking wooden floors. Jack didn’t hear the rats crawl around the house.

 Jack didn’t hear their watches beep out its time.

 00:30:00

 However, Jack did hear the incessant beeping of the microwave. Slumping over to his other side did nothing to stifle the sound. He waited… 30 seconds… a minute and a half… three minutes. It was clear nobody was going to see to it. Jack swung his legs over and started to stomp down the stairs. Everyone reacted fast. Despite how his dad had now shut up the microwave, Jack just growled at having come down for nothing and decided to at least grab a drink. Turning the corner, he stopped.

 His dad was microwaving a pizza at half nine at night. Thankfully, growing up in the McLoughin household taught him not to question the weird and sometimes (but not usually) wonderful stuff anyone did, he just grabbed his drink and started to heading upstairs while throwing out a lazy ‘goodnight’.

 Everyone held their breath until the soft creaks under his each footstep vanished into the guest bedroom. The plan was slowly running out of time…

 00:13:28

 The room bustled silently. Not one word was dared whispered as the idea was added to the main plan, they would’ve had a lot more time to spare if they just stuck to the original but truly they believed this to be worth the extra hassle.

 00:00:01

 The obsessive loud attention stealing thoughts began to simmer as Jack nestled further into the gentle safe space the bed happily supplied and the dark cloaked the room so no intruder could ever find their way through. Cars occasionally drove past with the soft rumble being the only thing that dared to enter the room not that Jack minded; silence only ever reminded him of his doing nothing while his ever growing to do list grew larger and so he was thankful for the distraction.

 A knock thudded through his thick veil of comfort.

 The frantic tap continued. There was no other noise coming from inside the house. It grew quicker. With a creased brow, Jack groaned sleepily as he opened the door expecting to see either one of his parents asking probably something stupid. He was met with a trial of confetti.

 The red strands of curled strings rejoiced with the four other coloured strings like this was going to be their last dance as they all lay frozen in time across the stairs. Still frowning, Jack followed the path laid before him. His sleep addled mind didn’t allow him to take the time and silliness to loop around the pointless rooms along with the string but instead took the short cut and noticed it lead outside. Bracing himself for the chilling winds to wreck his frame, he was pleasantly surprised to see the weather mellowed out to just a slight breeze that encouraged the leaves to rustle and sing.

 Instead of the streamers however, there were cupcakes. Each one coated with a bright shiny red wrapper with a generous lathering of white icing. Bending down low, Jack chuckled at the tiny Septic Eye Sam that hid in the corner with his chocolate button pupil. They were a straight line to the cramped hut he can’t quite believe he ever managed to call home.

 Now adorning a huge toothy grin, Jack pulled open the door of the hut to see everyone jump out. The lights flicked on and his entire family and friends made sure to jump out. His siblings were each equipped with bright party hats and badges cheerily exclaiming ‘Birthday Boy’. Mark stood there with a birthday cake again littered with tiny Sams. Bob and Wade launched the confetti into the air.

 Jack broke out into an even bigger grin than before.

 Immediately he threw his arms around anyone he could get a hold on and muttered out so many ‘thank you’s and joking scolds. “You have no idea man, we’ve been here for about three hours decorating and you’re dad went, like, full spy mode and had to sneak us food!” Bob pretended to complain yet anyone could tell he would happily do it all over again. The room had certainly been decorated though, paper chains hooked and looped lazily around almost every crevice and corner while the walls were practically wallpapered with birthday signs.  The table had been pulled out into the centre of the room so people could feast their eyes upon the mountains of food and drinks.

“We wanted it so you had no idea what was going to happen and so wait until midnight but then it would stop being your birthday then. So we organised it so that by the time we’re all about to collapse from the sugar crash it will be midnight.” Mark clapped his hand across his shoulder before he then caught the death in his sister’s eyes, “Not that any of that was my idea. It was your sister’s!”

 Unfortunately, they had greatly underestimated how long it takes for a JackSepticEye to crash. Although his friends were drooling in their sleep like state from the jet lag of flying to Ireland, Jack continued to talk to all of them right until the sun peeped out from under the hills.

#Crafty's writing #my writing #fanfic #birthday #fluffy

[lordofsark-blog]

Chapter 3

William stretched his neck out. It had been a long road from the roaming city of Sün Taer, across the desert and the Midlands. They had passed Ule, the small mining town not five hours prior. Their destination couldn’t be more than a few hours ride away. Yet, even as they cantered forward on their horses, William waved down his men to stop. His small guard of four men, including himself, were the sort that knew better than to question a reason to rest. He dismounted his brown warhorse and set about stretching out his stiff legs. When he’d finally worked the last knots out of his muscles, he fished out an apple from his saddle back. Using his thin-guarded short sword to half it, he gave half to his horse and set about eating the other half himself. He looked at the sky with squinted eyes, judging the time. It had to be nearing evening at this point. He walked over and nudged one of his guard, Wall. Matching with his name; Wall was a fort of a man, with even broader shoulders than William’s own, and only just shorter than him.

“Do you think it would be worth stopping for the night, so we reach the tower come first light rather than this evening?” He asked.

Wall looked up at him, he had been re-strapping his thick leather armour to his calves. His hazel eyes looked confused for a moment, then he could see a small smile touch the corners.

“Really that nervous of ‘yer old man, eh?”

William flinched as if struck.

“How dare you, Lieutenant, I should string you up for that comment,” William said bitingly, sticking his chin out proudly, crossing his thick arms.

Wall merely raised both brows and blinked at him. William sighed and fell into a sitting position beside him.

“That transparent, am I?”

Wall nodded, in a friendly manner. He slapped a big hand on William’s chain-mailed shoulder.

“If you were any more transparent, lad, I could see through you to the clouds above.” He patted him consolingly before standing up and producing a wine-skin which he swigged from. To that, William frowned.

“You know, it is a trial-worthy offense going into battle drunk in the King’s army.”

To that, Wall barked out a rough laugh and took an even bigger gulp of what looked to be some kind of red berry wine.

“If there was any King or army left to trial me, I may be worried. Plus, I’d like to see any of them milk-drinkin’ Commander types take on the single most dangerous man in the Empire’s history. Either Empire, for tha’ matter.”

It was then that Hasen came over and grabbed the wine-skin from Wall and took a gulp of it herself.

“Oh come on, Wall. If High Command thought for a moment that we would really fight the infamous Critias Oathbreaker, Critias The Tyrant, Critias the Blood-Saint, they would send half the remaining militia here and their best spellcasters and artificers.” She said, making grand gestures.

She was pretty, if a little rough. In truth she was probably the best sword-and-shield fighter William had ever seen. Her blonde hair was cropped short in the style of a man, and she wore similar flexible leathers like Wall did. Besides Tacc, the silent Taer mercenary, William was the only one who wore chain-mail and a light breastplate. He wore the customary emerald-green half-cape of a member of the Eld Empire’s elite High Command. When one got to such a level, they either became fat and administrative, or hard and grizzled. William liked to think he had become more the latter.

“Besides,” Hasen continued, “We have him.” She pointed a casual thumb at William.

“Hasen...” Wall tried to interject, but she rolled over him as she shrugged her customary shield and bastard sword to a better position on her back.

“With him here, ole’ Oathbreaker probably will blub a bit and come quietly. He requested him personally, after all.”

A silence fell over the group. William finished his apple in a few quick bites, then stole the wine-skin from Hasen, finishing the rest of it in a few large gulps. His gray eyes never left the blonde-woman. He passed the skin back to Wall after he had finished.

“Come, you lot. Let’s get to that accursed Black Tower and get this over with.”

He distinctly heard Wall mutter something to Hasen, to which she started to grumble “I didn’t know!” Wall nudged her shoulder to shut her up before she could continue. William mounted his horse and waited for the rest of them to gather up before he set off at a light gallop. His mood was dark, and he set his jaw tightly in determination. He would end this.

The sun was nearly completely out of the sky when the jagged shape of the Black Tower became visible on the horizon. They had left the known roads some time ago, and had just crested a hill when they came to a stop. Their horses were tired, and William could feel the heat and stress of his warhorse’s muscles clenching and unclenching beneath him, but they had a bit of running left in them. They needed to make it, tonight.

“Bloody Hells,” Wall said in awe, “It looks like something out of an old fable. It is twisted, alright. Formed of evil magicks.”

“Enough of that, its just a building.” William replied, not altogether agreeing with his own words. It did look like something evil. The peak of it came to a point like a scimitar, with jagged edges poking every which way, all coming together at the base. It was all angles and points: as if someone had shattered a blackened sword, forged the shards back together, and then planted them into the ground at the top of a hillock.

How could his father live here, of all places? He shrugged and lightly nudged his horse forward.

“Common, you lot. Let us get this over with.”

By the time they reached the Tower’s base the sun had set the sky aflame in brilliant colours of red and purple. It was such a startling contrast to the unsettling sight of the high tower before them. They came to a stable of sorts, and tied up their horses where they drank greedily from troughs and munched on bags of oats sitting at the ready for them.

“Should we talk about how we’d take this bastard down, if he wants a scrap?” Wall asked, probing. They walked along a path that led to what looked like a high-arched black stone door. The path was surprisingly pleasant, with trimmed bushes and flowerbeds lining the cobblestone.

Hasen spoke first, “We shouldn’t have to fight. But, if we do, I’ll take him up close. That magick sword of his ain’t no match for me.”

Tacc grumbled behind them, he was taking up the rear as always. He actually spoke, startling the rest of them. He hadn’t said more than five words the whole three pass trip.

“He may be the greatest of the Singers to live within memory, but I am no novice to the craft, either. I can hold his magicks while you restrain him.” His rich accent was pleasant to listen to, like warm honey. William dimly realized he must have an excellent bass singing voice.

They reached the large stone door, which must have been twice the size of all of them. William paused, then pushed on it. To his surprise it opened, and a stocky dark-skinned man stood there.

He bowed deeply. To William’s surprise his clothes were of the latest fashions of Illiad, even way out here to the east. The Tower was at least five days travel from the nearest full city, so it boggled him how he managed to look so well-kept.

The man looked up to meet his gaze. William could see recognition in his eyes.

“You must be Master William. You were expected. Come,” he said, making a sweeping gesture for them to enter.

The entrance hall was nothing more than a large domed room, the stone floor was cut in what almost looked like obsidian outlined in silver. The roof was probably several stories high, and the walls were ridged in a style William couldn’t recognize. There were many doors here, some wood, some stone, and yet others were a burnished metal that William had never seen before.

“I am Salien, the lord’s servant. He has directed me to lead you to the dining hall, as he has chosen to take supper there this evening,” he explained. Salien looked more like a bread merchant than a servant to the most dangerous man in the Eldor Dominions.

Regardless, they walked through a wooden door, down a corridor, then through another door. As they went through, Tacc grumbled as if uncomfortable. William was about to ask what was wrong when his eyes, fell upon the dining hall, or more specifically the large glass-paned windows that showed the fading light of day outside. It was obvious looking out them that they were no longer ground level, but somehow mid-way up the tower.

“How…?” William began to ask Salien, only to find the man-servant’s eyes already on him.

“You really do look like him, you know. Even the blue of your eyes.”

That caught William completely off guard, and his mind went blank of questions. Before he could recover, Salien was already whizzing out of the room.

“I shall go fetch m’lord. Please, be seated.”

As the door closed behind him, the team looked at each other in confusion.

Wall spoke first, gesturing to the laid-out table of silver and wood. It looked like it could fit around twelve people.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect him to try and set us up with a four course meal.”

William nodded, numbly. “I am not sure what he’s up to, but we may as well play along for now. Tacc, can you use your magicks to tell if the food is poisoned?”

Tacc scratched the back of his head, setting his bronze-coloured hair askew. For the first time he showed some sign of uncharacteristic uncertainty. After a moment he gave a small shrug.

“Normal toxins, yes. Magick trickery? Uncertain.”

William nodded. That would have to do. He doubted anyone in the Two Kingdoms would have much luck besting Critias in magick, but at least they would be safe from a drug in their wine. They all took seats at the far end of the table, as far as possible from the chair that was clearly the ‘head’. Tacc even went so far as to unbuckle his sword belt, and lay them under his chair.

A minute passed, then Salien burst into the room, holding a wooden door open behind him. A man walked in behind him, and William could feel the eyes of his companions flick back and forth between the two of them. William knew what they saw, because he could see it himself. The man before him shared his dark hair, even though Critias’ was longer by far. As well as a sharp jawline, and strong but tall frame. But the greatest resemblance was their eyes. William couldn’t look away from the deep wells of blue with streaks of green and gold through them. Those eyes could look through wood, stone, and bone to see the soul of a man. They looked tired, and in pain. Critias’ gaze fell over each of the gathered before settling on William. When their eyes met, William could see the man stiffen, and his jaw clenched. He looked away quickly, and settled into his large chair.

“Please, Salien, bring out the meal.” Critias’ voice startled William. He’d always expected it to be rough, barking, like the ravings of a madman. Instead it was soft, reserved, almost kind. William found he hated it. The meal was brought out by not men, but forms that were vaguely human-like. They shimmered and whirled, and they seemed to be made entirely of metal.

Wall finally spoke up, his gruff voice rolling over the dining hall.

“Are those… Tael automatons?” He asked, before realized who he was talking to. Hasen, who was sitting to his right, made a distinct elbowing-motion.

Critias looked up, even as one of the silver-and-gold automatons placed a steaming plate of roast before him. He smiled a small, yet charming smile.

“Why, yes. Although, the Tael didn’t produce these ones. I did,” he said, pausing to reach forward and pick op a roll of soft bread, which he tore in half to spread a daub of butter upon it.

As he talked, William glanced over at Tacc, who was frowning at the cut potatoes that rested before him as if they had in some way insulted his ancestors. After a brief moment, he relaxed and shrugged before piling food on his plate. William decided that was good enough for him, and followed suit. As if on cue, Wall and Hasen started gathering foods on their plates. Warm rolls, soft cheese, meats and wines to their desires.

“I found one of their schematics in a book I read, a long time ago, and managed to remember it well enough after a few attempts.” Critias continued. Tacc looked up with wide eyes.

“You made one of the archon from memory?” he questioned, his Taer accent thick around the Sün Taer word. “Those schema are hundreds of pages long.”

Critias nodded slowly, chewing through a mouth-full of roll.

“Thousands, if you read the more complicated ones. I didn’t say it was easy, just that it was done.”

The table fell silent as they ate. The food was excellent, and they feasted until they could not eat any more. The aches of the road dulled slightly in the presence of wine, water, and food. But William couldn’t keep his eyes off of his father, who seemed to be pointedly ignoring him. He talked to the others, who funnily enough opened up to the charming murderer, and soon they were all reservedly talking over small things. The roads, the weather, and the markets. Never the Empires. Never the War. Eventually the food and plates were taken away, but the wine and water remained. At this point William had leaned back, and crossed his arms across his chest. He was unsure how to proceed.

“Well,” Critias said, standing up from the table with a flourish, “I suppose we should head to my favoured chamber to get to business.” The rest of the group found themselves standing, almost without meaning to.

Critias, followed by Salien, lead them through the same door he had entered from. This time, William was weary of going through the door. He glared at it, but the open door merely showed a short passageway beyond it. He looked back and met Tacc’s eye, which looked far away. But the man slowly nodded before jutting his head upwards. William figured the gesture meant it was another of the doors that moved them around the tower without knowing it. He took a deep breath in before stepping through the door. Now that he was expecting it, he ever so slightly felt like he was falling as he passed through the portal. The room before him, however, was no passageway. It was a grand throne-room, half of which was open to the elements. There was only a single large wooden throne in the room, facing the outside. There were a few cushions lain out on the floor, as if waiting for William’s party.

Critias had already fallen into his throne, cradling in his lap what William recognized as his legendary sword, Nae’gling. Without pause, William called out to his men.

“Positions!”

He drew both his long sword and his short sword with a flourish, and heard a startled, slightly slower reaction than normal from his companions as they drew their weapons.

Critias looked up at them, a frown forming on his face. His blue eyes almost seemed to darken, then, turning nearly black. William felt a shiver run down his back. Before he could say anything, Critias casually flicked his sword at them. It skittered across the stone floor finding a resting place before William’s feet.

“Take it. I surrender it to you, freely.” The icy disappointment in his voice could have given the group frostbite.

William sheathed his weapons before reaching down to gather up the sword in his hands. It was an odd design, almost as if someone had combined a bastard sword and a rapier. It was longer than most swords, but also slightly thinner. William ran a hand along the metal of the blade in wonder, it was no simple steel or iron. He couldn’t guess what the bright-white metal was. He only knew from stories that it was ages old.

“Nae’gling is your birthright, anyway. You should have it.” William felt his breath catch in his chest, and he looked up at Critias. His manner had completely changed from icy rage to sadness. He looked at William with such heartbreak that William almost wanted to comfort him. Almost.

“It is no birthright of mine. It will be placed in the Royal vaults as is proper.” He spoke before he even knew what he was saying. Critias blinked as if he had been slapped, then shook his head.

“Seems a shame to give it to the Eld bloodline. Do you even know what Nae’gling means, boy?”

William felt his face sink into a frown, and he opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Tacc.

“It means ‘Shine of Doom’, yes?”

William looked back with fury in his eye at Tacc, but none of the three were minding him at all. They had all lowered their weapons, looking at Critias with some manner of suspicion. William could tell what they were thinking, that they had no idea what the Oathbreaker was playing at.

“Yes, that is correct. It is no God-borne weapon. It is beyond that. The blade,” he said, pointing at the silvery metal, “was forged by Volus for Crael himself, if tales are anything to be believed. And I do.”

William shook his head.

“We don’t have time for your faerie tales, Critias Oathbreaker. We are here to take you in. You requested me here, so I am here! Now you will come with us for your crimes.”

William practically shouted by the time he had finished. Without him realizing, a deep-seated anger had been building in him. He met Critias’ eyes as he finished, and found nothing but pity meeting him.

“I’m afraid, my son, that is exactly why you are here. Faerie tales. My faerie tale. That is my price for surrendering myself to you, and you alone.”

He stood, and turned away from William, leaning on his throne as if he needed strength.

“I would have you know who I am, even now. At the end of all things. Then I will come, and the Eld can do whatever they consider to be justice. You deserve to know.”

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