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lonestarfangirl2014 · 3 years

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LONESTARS GUIDE TO THE WAYNES AND KANES OF GOTHAM CITY PART ONE REDUX

BRUCE WAYNES UNCLES AND AUNTS(Including by marriage) EDITION

WAYNES

“Waynes never stay down. We RISE”

The Wayne's are one of the so called first families of Gotham

also known as the Founding Families of Gotham or more simply, the Five Families are the five families affiliated with the creation of Gotham as a city.

AGATHA WAYNE

First appearance: Batman issue 89 February 1955

Agatha has been discribed as Thomas Wayne frail elder sister. She occasionally visits Bruce when he’s a adult. On Earth Two where she originally debuted it’s been said that she helped out the next person on this list with young Bruce whenever she could.

It could be possible that either Agatha or the next person on our list was the one to inherit the families gotham based ancestral home based on earth two/Golden age Bruce buying a mansion to live in shortly before becoming Batman

Agatha has a counterpart on new earth/post COIE who is said to be the only sibling of Thomas Wayne(still as a older sister.).

It is unknown if she has ever had kids. On Earth Two there is evidence that Bruce has at least one possibly 1st cousin on his fathers side who I will talk about in another post I’m planning on making about Bruce’s cousins.

PHILIP WAYNE (Not to be confused with Martha’s brother of the same first name whose farther down this list)

First Earth-One appearance: Batman issue 208 February 1969

Originally introduced in the earth-one era of comics it is later revealed that a Philip Wayne did exist on the earlier earth-two in Secret Origins Vol 2 #6 (September, 1986)

On both Earth-One and Earth-Two Philip Wayne was the one who took young Bruce in after he was orphaned.

It is unknown who is older between him and Thomas but based on the appearance of Earth-One Philip(white hair and mustache) I would say that Philip was the older one at least on that earth where both he and Thomas took charge of the family business AKA Wayne Enterprise.

On Earth-Two Thomas was the one to inherit the family fortune suggesting that he was the eldest of the two Wayne sons on that Earth. Earth-Two Philip is only seen once and it’s only a silhouette of him.

It is unknown if he has ever had kids. On Both Earth-Two as well as as Earth-One there is evidence that Bruce has at least one possible paternal 1st cousin on each. Both of them I will talk about in another post I’m planning on making about Bruce’s cousins.

Vanderveer Wayne SR.

first appearance: Powerless episode 3

For the sake of this post I will say a Fourth Wayne sibling to my knowledge has never appeared in the comics HOWEVER a paternal Uncle Of Bruce was introduced in the short lived TV show Powerless as Vanderveer Wayne SR.

Vanderveer Wayne, Sr. was the original boss of Wayne Security, before passing the job to his son Vanderveer Wayne Jr and taking a position on the board of directors of Wayne Enterprise.

Patricia Wayne

First Appearance: Pennyworth episode One

The elder sister of Thomas Wayne. She has been described and shown to be a typical rich party girl who according to Thomas apparently likes to cause scandals that drag the Wayne name through the mud. The foolish sibling to Thomas responsible sibling. They bicker and she calls him names but like any typical siblings they still love eachother.

ON PRIME EARTH/NEW 52 it is said that Thomas Wayne was a only child. As of may 4 2021 none of the other Wayne siblings has so far made a appearance in Any Comics set on Prime earth. But hey screw Canon right?

KANES

“We Stand TOGETHER”

The Kane family was cited as being so rich that the only parts of Gotham that were not owned by them were those owned by the Wayne Family.

NATHAN KANE

First mentioned in Batman Incorporated(don’t quote me on that) taking place on New Earth And is confirmed to exist on Prime Earth as well.

Not much is known about Nathan. We don’t even have a proper picture of him. What we do know is that he is the eldest son(Batman Incorporated vol 1 #4)and he was the one who inherited both the family fortune as well as the family Crest Hill Estate after family Patriarch and Matriarch Roderick and Elizabeth/Elisabeth(seen it spelt both ways) both died. He is called the golden scion of the family.

On New Earth He married the original Batwoman aka Katherine Webb-Kane the year Batman became active in Gotham. He was apparently 40 when he started dating 25 year old Kathy Webb-Kane, 43 when he finally married(the year Batman age 25 debuted in Gotham) and 47 when he died.

Kathy Webb-Kane/ Katrina “Luka” Netz.

First Earth-One appearance: Detective Comics #233 (July, 1956)

First Earth-Two Appearance: The Brave and the Bold #182 (January, 1982)

First New Earth Appearance:Batman #678 (August, 2008)

First Prime Earth Appearance:Batman Incorporated Vol 2 #10 (June, 2013

The Original Batwoman!

Strap in because this is a long one.

On Earth-One her history is as follows: Kathy Kane was a wealthy heiress who gained great acrobatic skills during her career as a circus trapeze artist and stunt cyclist. Becoming infatuated with the Batman, she fashioned herself a costume and secret hide-out and started operating as Batwoman. At first she upstaged Batman and his sidekick Robin in capturing crooks. However, Batman eventually learned her true identity and tracked her to her secret cave hide-out. Showing her how easily it was for him to learn her identity, Batman pointed out that criminals could probably do it just as easily and tried to convince her to drop out of crime fighting. Disobeying Batman's advice, she tried to capture mobster Curt Briggs. During this caper, Batman went missing and Briggs, struck with amnesia, left thinking he was Batman. Ultimately the real Batman reappeared, and Biggs was turned over to the police. Afterwards, Batwoman went back to retirement. However, Kathy Kane became tired of the dull life of a rich heiress and came out of retirement once more in order to recapture a criminal named Elton Cragg. It was during this case that Batwoman gained super-powers and after her heroic deeds, she convinced Batman to let her continue her crime-fighting career. Ironically, around this time, Kathy started dating Bruce Wayne and she started to fall in love with Batman, unaware that they were the same person.

When Bruce Wayne was framed for a crime he didn't commit, Batwoman teamed-up with Robin in order to clear Batman's name. During an undercover mission, Batwoman was captured by a criminal leader and was rescued by the Dynamic Duo. When both Batwoman and reporter Vicki Vale were nominated Gotham City's "Woman of the Year", both tried to upstage each other to get the lead in the contest. With the help of Batman and Robin, both Vicki and Batwoman captured Moose Molloy's gang and both were crowned woman of the year. When Batman and Robin were trapped in a cave in, Ace the Bat-Hound guided Batwoman to help free them and capture the criminal Dr. Midas. Batwoman next helped the Dynamic Duo capture Firefly, aided them in preventing Lex Luthor from atomizing Superman, and helped them capture the Spinner. Batwoman later met with Bat-Mite and working together, they captured some crooks to save the Dynamic Duo.After this adventure, Bat-Mite became infatuated with Batwoman and tried to become her sidekick, creating chaos for everyone until he realized his mistake and left. When trying to solve the mystery of who murdered Professor Lacy after his discovery of a living caveman, Batwoman was saved by the caveman who sacrificed himself to save her from Lacy's killer: Harbin, Lacy's assistant. When Kathy Kane purchased a mystical belt, she becames a target of the criminal Star-Man. The belt sucked Batwoman's life energy from her body and she was saved by Batman and Robin, who arrived in time to stop Star-Man.

When Kathy's niece Betty Kane came to visit her, the young girl learned of her aunt's double identity. Kathy agreed to train Betty to be her sidekick, thinking that the young girl would eventually lose interest. However, to her surprise, Betty proved capable and became Batwoman's sidekick Bat-Girl. On their first mission, the two women helped Batman and Robin defeat King Cobra and his gang.Batwoman then became a victim of Luthor's experiments, who manipulated Kathy and gave her super-powers to fight her allies. After a long struggle, Superman managed to break Lex's control over Kathy and she returned to normal.When Batman and Robin were briefly transformed into alien creatures, Batwoman was one of the few who actually believed they were the real Dynamic Duo, until they were restored to normal.She later helped Batman and Robin capture the "Rockets" Rogan Gang. Later, after Batman and Batwoman were captured by the Moth, they were rescued by Bat-Girl and Robin. Later, Kathy went on a date with Bruce Wayne to an amusement park that was previously the location where the Justice League of America recently had a battle.As Batwoman, Kathy joined Batman on a trip to Washington D.C. to testify to the Senate Committee, leaving their young sidekicks to defend Gotham City in their absence.She next aided Batman and Robin in capturing the criminal known as the Vulcan.

Kathy's romances with Bruce Wayne and Batman became rocky, first during a period where Bruce Wayne was briefly transformed into a child, he made it appear that he's seeing another woman in order to keep Kathy away,and later when Batman, while under the effect of a love potion, fell in love with a woman named Elsie.Kathys romance woes became more complicate when Alpha, the Experimental Man fell in love with her, until the artificial man sacrificed himself to save her from falling off a cliff.

When helping Batman and Robin solve a murder during Mardis Gras, she got into a feud with Vicki Vale over who is the right person for Batman, forming the first of many competitions for Batman's affections.She later helped Batman capture Catman.

When she and Batman were briefly transported to another dimension by invaders from that world, their mortality was in question unless they were freed. During this period, Batwoman managed to get Batman to warm up and admit some of his feelings toward her before they were rescued by Robin and Bat-Girl.

Batwoman's feud with Vicki Vale heat up again when both women tried to determine if Mirror Man's assertions that Bruce Wayne was really Batman were true. When Batman scolded Batwoman for getting in the way of his attempts to capture Catman, she faked her intentions to join the criminal as Cat-Woman, until Catman seemingly died in the battle.Batwoman and Bat-Girl later helped the Dynamic Duo end a feud between the Joker and Clayface,and helped Batman and Robin capture the Terrible Trio

Once more suspecting that Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same man, Kathy Kane was convinced otherwise when Superman posed as Batman. However the plan went awry when a bomb goes off seemingly killing "Batman" and necessitating Superman to pose as the ghost of Batman for a time.

When Batman was briefly transformed into a gigantic creature, Batwoman teamed-up with Robin and Ace the Bat-Hound to track down the crooks that have the cure. After this, Catman reappeared and discovered his costume had mystical properties that gave him nine-lives, allowing him to continue on his crime spree. With her Cat-Woman costume, Batwoman helped Batman and Robin capture him.

Following this adventure, Batwoman went into retirement and disappear from Batman's life almost entirely. She become the owner of a circus, but often longed to return to her former crime fighting career.

Batwoman came out of retirement to aid Batgirl(Barbara Gordon)against Killer Moth and the Cavalier, but her return was never intended to be permanent.Kathy Kane was then present at a surprise party for Bruce Wayne at Wayne Manor.When Batwoman was later disintegrated into nothingness on Barbara Gordon's doorstep, Batgirl and Robin teamed-up to find the cure and restore Batwoman to her normal form. Shortly after this, Batwoman met the Huntress from Earth-Two and aided her in capturing Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Madame Zodiac. When the Freedom Fighters of Earth-X searched for a group of criminals known as the Warmakers, their search led them to the carnival owned by Kathy Kane. Kathy, as Batwoman, aided the Freedom Fighters and Batgirl in defeating the Warmakers. In her last recorded adventure, Kathy Kane was murdered by the League of Assassins who were being manipulated by Ra's al Ghul. Her death was eventually avenged by Batman.

Katherine Kane was also known as Batwoman in the Earth-Two timeline. Her history and career are said to reflect that of her Earth-One counterpart, except for that version's untimely death. When Kathy adopted the role of Batwoman, Batman wanted her to retire from the role for fear that she would be hurt in her costumed exploits. Kane would continue to operate in her costumed identity until she learned that Batman had become deeply romantically interested in someone in his unmasked identity. While Wayne never revealed his identity to her, or explicitly told her of his private life, she said she knew of his change in his attitude to her and assumed as such. She largely retired from her costumed role soon after this. Years later, she learned that Wayne was the original Batman when his costume identity was revealed to the general public after his own demise. Not long after this, Kane resumed her costumed identity when she learned of the presence of a "new" Batman. When she found him, Kathy learned that this Batman belonged in the alternate timeline of Earth-One, but the emotional shock of seeing Batman alive was still great. However, Kathy realized that he was not the love of her life reborn, but was a completely new person.

On New Earth her history is as follows

By age 25, Kathy Webb was an underground film director, a poet, and something of a wild child. But when she met Nathan Kane(who we already established as being a brother to Martha Wayne) , he bought her a circus, and she fell head-over-heels in love with him. They were together for seven years and married for four of those same years(thus making her a aunt by marriage to Bruce,Kate, Beth, And Bette) before he died of a stroke. After this, she was approached by a secret organization called Spyral to find out Batman's secret identity. Assessing the information on the Caped Crusader, she decided the best approach was to make him chase her. To that end, she brushed up on detective skills, martial arts and motor-biking, got a costume and started calling herself Batwoman. Her plan worked, and within a few months they were an item. However, Batman was careful not to give her his secret identity, and in fact worked out hers first. This, coupled with her feelings for Batman, lead her to try and break off ties with Spyral. However, her employer, the mysterious Agent-Zero, turned the tables on her, forcing her to break off on both sides, which she did. She was believed to be killed by the Bronze Tiger on behalf of the League of Assassins. The second Batwoman Kate Kane(who like Her cousins Bruce and Bette is Kathy’s relative by way of marriage) investigated the murder, but could not find anything. That was because she was never killed; after a staged death, she worked behind the scenes with Spyral to stop Leviathan. She eventually succeeded in shooting Talia al Ghul during her final standoff with Batman, before claiming that she would not be meeting Batman again, leaving to continue leading Spyral.

On Prime Earth she is Katrina "Luka" Netz one of Spyral's oldest members and the daughter of the former Director of Spyral Herr Netz. Kathy presumably being a alias that she used. Based on what I read in the comics I believe her role as Batwoman is still be canon due to nightwing recognizing her voice at one point and if not then at least her marriage to Nathan Kane is still canon.

PHILIP KANE

First appearance: Batman vol 2 issue 21 August 2013

Introduced during Zero Year(the volume he’s introduced in isn’t in the hardback version however) on Prime Earth Philip Kane ran Wayne Enterprise in Bruce’s absence. While Bruce was traveling the world training, Philip held down the business with his adviser Edward Nygma(we all know how well that turned out)

He had studied to be a geologist as a younger man, he was on a Expedition in northern Mexico when his father Roderick learned that he was dying and had came to get Philip to take him back home. Philip and his father fought because he didn’t want to go. Their fighting resulted in Philip splitting his head open which resulted in him getting a metal plate in his head.

He had given up that dream to take up the responsibility of helping to run the family business. During the Time that Bruce was abroad Philip managed to in his own words “Finally Merged the families” with both families companies(Kane Materials/Kane indrustries, Wayne Industry)seemingly merging into Wayne Enterprise.

Philip was the one who had Bruce Wayne declared legally dead which Bruce originally didn’t want to reverse. Philip Kane was also the one who was able to mostly track where Bruce was during his training. Not even Alfred knew where he was.

Philip was unfortunately blackmailed like many other citizens of Gotham by Red Hood One into joining the Red Hood gang. Being branded “Red Hood 347”, Philip did the bidding of the gang leader until Kane turned. During Batman’s assault on Red Hood One at the Ace chemical processing plant(which ironically on new earth used to belong to the Kane family as Kane Chemicals before being sold and the company Renamed Ace Chemicals )Philip gave his life to distract the Red Hood while the villain was going to kill Batman.

Trivia:Philip Kane was the one who originally own the Giant Penny whose forging he had overseen himself.

THE UNSEEN UNNAMED PARENTS OF MARY ELIZABETH(Bette) KANE

No names or appearances have ever been given for these two.

Bette’s mom was mentioned in one issue of Batwoman and that was it. Seriously it was one where it's implied she already gave up on her daughter surviving her injuries and so she was off panel implied to be talking to the doctors about donating bettes organs or something when Jacob kane was rambling besides a comatose bette. Yeah it was implied that they moved out to the west coast and lived in California because I believe that's where bette grew up in most continuities.

Next up is one every one who kept up with Bat related related comics since 2011 should be very familiar with

JACOB KANE

First New Earth Appearance: 52 #7 (August, 2006)(in a photograph alongside his second wife)/Detective Comics issue 854 August 2009

First Prime Earth Appearance: Batwoman Vol 2 #0 (November, 2012)

A lifelong soldier, Jacob had been a field officer with USSOCOM for most of his career, leading numerous tactical operations across the globe

He and his first wife Gabi are parents to twins Beth and Kate Kane

Jacob has earned the following military awards: the Army Achievement Medal, the Kosovo Campaign Medal, the Afghanistan Campaign Medal, the Iraq Campaign Medal, the Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal, the Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, the NATO Medal for Kosovo, the Kuwait Liberation Medal, the Presidential Unit Citation, the Meritorious Unit Commendation, and an Army Aviator Badge. Jacob has worked extensively with military intelligence services.

The Kanes often moved due to the nature of Jacob and Gabi’s work. Jacob was frequently away from home, since his duties included intervention in various international military crises.

They eventually moved to Brussels in Belgium, since the parents were now serving at NATO. However, the family was soon torn apart due to a terrorist attack. Gabi took her daughters out to celebrate their twelfth birthday, and they were kidnapped by heavily armed men. Military intelligence eventually located the hostages, and Jacob was put in charge of the tactical unit sent to rescue them. However, they were too late, as his wife had been executed and his daughter Elizabeth was believed to be dead. He rescued Kate himself, but she was traumatized by the sight of her dead mother and sister.

Colonel Kane plays an important role in his daughter’s Batwoman operations. He provides her a one-man command, control, and communications center. They stay in constant radio link, with the elder Kane being able to run searches, provide advice, and generally work in the background using his considerable knowledge, contacts and experience. Colonel Kane primarily uses his connections and his intelligence-gathering and management skills. He has access to numerous databases that are normally only accessible to military and law enforcement personnel to provide intel to his daughter.

Jacob is the next kane sibling most people would know about in part thanks to both his comic appearances In multiple bat comics as well as his appearance on the arrowverse batwoman tv show.

Gabrielle Kane(knee Goldstein in the arrowverse)

First New Earth Appearance: Detective Comics 855 September 2009

First Prime Earth Appearance: Batwoman volume 2 issue 27 March 2014

Captain Gabi Kane is the mother of Kate Kane (who later became Batwoman) and her identical twin Beth Kane. A member of the US Army’s 525th Battlefield Surveillance Brigade, she married another soldier, Jacob Kane. Both Kanes worked extensively with military intelligence services, and often moved as a result, even after their children were born. On Prime Earth When her sister-in-law Martha died she went to the funeral with both her husband and Kids. She reminded her husband that not all of Martha was dead(referring to Bruce) Eventually, the Kanes moved to Brussels, Belgium, since the parents were now serving at NATO. The family, however, was torn apart due to a terrorist attack. As Gabi was taking her daughters for their 12th birthday, they were kidnapped by heavily armed men. Military intelligence eventually located the hostages, and Jacob was put in charge of the tactical unit sent to rescue them. However, they were too late, as Gabi had been executed. Jacob rescued Kate himself, but she was traumatized by the sight of her dead mother and her supposedly dead sister.

TRIVIA: Gabi had a tattoo of the Special Forces arrowhead insignia on her right bicep; her daughter Kate later copied this.

Catherine Hamilton-Kane

First New Earth appearance: 52 #7 (August, 2006)(in a photograph alongside her husband)/Detective Comics Vol 1 #856 October, 2009

First Prime Earth Appearance: Batwoman Vol 2 #0 (November, 2012)

Heiress to the Hamilton arms fortune(called Hamilton dynamics in the batwoman tv show), and second wife of Jacob Kane.

Cathy is a jet-setter and socialite involved in politics.The Hamilton fortune was built upon guns. Catherine family owned the enormously successful Hamilton company, which apparently became a household name during the days of the Old West Firearms. Appears to care greatly for her niece by marriage(one can assume she might feel the same for Bruce if and when she finds out he’s Batman) if the way she reacted to finding out about Bette being a vilgilante in the comics is any indication.

#dc comics #batman #batfamily #kane family #wayne family #agatha wayne #philip wayne #van wayne #Patricia wayne #philip kane #jacob kane #kathy kane #Katherine Hamilton #gabi kane #waynes and kanes #info #bat lore

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hellreads · 4 years

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Thank you for your blog it's really helpful sksjsksj anyway i don't know if you like dark themes(yandere, supernatural, psychological) but if you do what are the best fic you can recommend? Especially Jimin's? Thank you in advance ❤️❤️

hello there lovey! thank you for appreciating my blog, btw I LOVE DARK THEMED FICS and I have read a lot of stories with said theme (yandere and psychological are part of my fave reads), anyways, I will be listing below my favorites for every member, you can also check other fics on my organized shelf in case you’re looking for specific stories xxx | 🍒

Kim Namjoon

❥ Let the Villain Win by @lemonjoonah➴ Author/Yandere!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Kim Namjoon, famous author and your childhood friend has been keeping a secret from you. His new book treads on such dark themes that he’s finding it difficult to write. Excited by the prospect of a sinister plot you offer him a piece of advice, “Let the villain win…”

❥ First, Do No Harm by @psycho-slytherin➴ Doctor/Yandere!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Dr. Kim is well known as the most skilled heart surgeon in the hospital, but when you notice his mortality statistics seem skewered, you discover all is not what it seems. Now, Dr. Kim is offering you a choice: will you join him? Or become yet another broken heart beneath his scalpel?

❥ A Little Bit of Sugar (but lots of poison too) by @lthyl➴ Noir!AU | Namjoon x Reader | One-Shot➴ Namjoon is well aware that some, well actually most people could find his hobby not exactly common, yet he still considers himself to be a man of tasteful words and higher intellect - someone who managed to understand the true, deepest meaning of beauty itself.

Kim Seokjin

❥ A Portrait’s Whisper by @jimlingss➴ Supernatural!AU | Seokjin x Reader | One-Shot➴ When you’re trapped in a house controlled by a witch’s power, Seokjin will go through every means to search for you again.

❥ Cake by yeyeniejjung➴ Killer/Yandere!AU | Seokjin x Reader | Series➴ “I was always hungry for your love. Just once, I wanted to know what is was like to get my fill of it. I wanted to be fed so much love that I couldn’t take it anymore, just once.”

Min Yoongi

❥ Dead Leaves by wrienne➴ Police/Det!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Jimin | Series➴ In which you (reader) are a homicide detective about to face the biggest hurdle both of your career and life.

Married to probably the kindest but most boring man you’ve ever met and living in a town where nothing ever seems to happen means life for you is dull. Dull enough to drive you crazy with boredom and dissatisfaction. However, life changes abruptly when your old boss retires and a new man takes his place - a man you used to love (and sleep very regularly with) more than a decade ago. Especially when your husband comes home smelling of perfume, you’re unable to resist your more carnal urges and dead women start showing up across the city with unnerving frequency.

Jung Hoseok

❥ Lost and Found by @fortunexkookie➴ Peter Pan!AU | Hoseok x Reader | Series➴ The only hope you had at ending your exile and earning your life back came in the form of an infuriating and uncatchable man: Hoseok. He seemed to love the endless game of cat-and-mouse you two played - so much, in fact, that you were unsure if you were the cat or the mouse. What he failed to realize was that there was a third player, and this one wasn’t after him. The Crocodile hunted you with an intensity that rivaled the way you chased Hoseok, but with one difference: the games he played were deadly.

❥ Taken at Dusk by @yeontanismypresident➴ Hybrid/Yandere!AU | Hoseok x Reader x Jungkook | Series ➴ The moment you sauntered into the party, his gaze was locked in on your form. Everywhere you went, his eyes followed along, not wanting to lose you in the huge crowd of sweaty bodies. There was something about you that drove his instincts wild. Was it your scent? Your attitude? The manner in which you held yourself? He didn’t have a clue and he couldn’t have cared less, so long as you were his and his only. And he would do anything to make that happen.

❥ Red Door, Yellow Door by @polaritae➴ Supernatural/Incubus!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Hoseok | One-Shot➴ In hindsight, maybe going into a trance to communicate with the spirit world was a bad idea.

Park Jimin

❥ Eradicate by @gukptune➴ Purge!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ A hotel intern finds himself trapped between death and lust.

❥ Neighbors by @jkeuphoriadreamland➴ Neighbors/Yandere!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ Finally achieving your successes in life you never expected the distraction that came with your new hot neighbor. He however, had been trying to get your attention for a much different reason.

❥ Otherworldly by @sinning-on-a-sunday➴ Coraline!AU | Jimin x Reader | Two-Shot➴ When you discover a tiny door in your home that leads to a much better version of your own life, it seems too good to be true. little do you know, the man posing as your boyfriend may be a lot more dangerous than you care to admit. and he is not intent on letting you leave.

❥ The Uncanny by sinsirella➴ Stalker/Yandere!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ “The uncanny is the psychological experience of something as strangely familiar, rather than simply mysterious.” An everyday object or occurrence can be experienced as something unsettling and alienated. This is accompanied by a discomforting effect and—most of the time—leads to an outright rejection of said subject. Or Someone.(Y/N) is a young girl whose Life turns upside down. One day her mother surprises her with news of her arranged husband, forcing her into her new chaotic lifestyle. Join her journey and experience her new life through her eyes. Will she get along with her husband? Or someone else? What are they hiding?

❥ Nine-One-One by @yminie➴ Det/Killer!AU | Jimin x Reader | Series➴ When murder and crime threaten the city of Seoul, there’s a team in place to help keep the public safe, but just what do you do when all your training is to help others, and the one that needs help is actually you?

❥ Devotion by @sugaxjpg➴ Angel/Demon!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ As an angel questioning your place in Heaven, the last thing you needed was for someone like him to appear.

❥ The Devil’s Own Luck by @jimlingss➴ Demon!AU | Jimin x Reader | One-Shot➴ You should’ve known that opening that box would’ve made your luck go rotten. And not only that, but a certain demon would end up following you for the rest of your days. Introducing the devilish boy - Jimin! Your childhood best friend from the underworld who will never leave your side!

Kim Taehyung ( I read a lot of dark fics for Taehyung so just check my shelf)

❥ Beastly Gods by @lemonjoonah➴ Hybrid/Yandere!AU | Taehyung x Reader | One-Shot➴ ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you’ve been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

❥ Minutiae by coconutty ➴ Stalker!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ Y/N meets a mysterious and alluring photographer and wants to interview him. Along the way things start getting a bit strange. What happens when you draw the attention of someone who always gets what they want?

❥ L’Appel Du Vide by @infireation➴ Killer!AU | Taehyung x Reader | Series➴ //

Jeon Jungkook (I read a lot of JK dark fics too so pls just check my shelf)

❥ Only You by @sweetbunnykook (+ all of her stories!!!)➴ Lovers/Yandere!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Namjoon x Jin | Series➴ Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

❥ Every Breath You Take by @junqkook➴ Stalker/Yandere!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Everything was going great when you first met jeon jungkook. he was a new light in your life with soft smiles and tinkling laughs; but then you noticed a lurking presence that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

❥ Lust by @umitae➴ Stalker/Killer!AU | Jungkook x Reader | Series➴ Everybody has a lust for something. but his lust was beyond the ordinary one. his lust for you was out of this world. he only wanted you and in order to make you his, everything had to go his way.

OT7 (so all possible dark tags apply to these stories so please please please check all tags and warnings before reading!!!)

❥ Extreme Obsession by saylilirose➴ Psychological/Poly!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ In life, you meet one person that you live and grow old with. You? You meet seven. But your love? Non-existent. But theirs? Real…and obsessive.Which turns deadly and dangerous. Without hesitation.

❥ The Scarlet Lust by infires_fanfic➴ Vampire!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ Your world becomes turned upside down as a series of unfortunate events places you directly in the hands of a clan of blood-thirsty vampires, where you become their one and only human servant. Filled with uncertainty, strange emotions and many questions, what truths will you uncover? Are your new keepers the intimate form of evil incarnate, or is there humanity hidden beneath the surface of their statuesquely beautiful faces?

#answered #tete-a-tete #anon #recs from hell #rfh:ot7 #rfh:knj #rfh:ksj #rfh:myg #rfh:jhs #rfh:pjm #rfh:kth #rfh:jjk #sooooo this list is probs bias towards yandere stories ~ hdfgjkgdskjahgfask #i love a lot of dark themed fics but ultimately decided to limit this list so anon could start somewhere but then again I highly suggest ~#that y'all check the shelf in case I failed to add stories that is up your alley

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flowerflamestars · 5 years

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Awakening and Reunion

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE

It was the most vibrant, beautiful autumn the land along the Wall had ever seen. Never before had the end of summer fruit stretched so ripely into the colder season. The trees changed as they always did, but what had once been paintbox color now gleamed like jewels over the hills. Brightest of all- the Archeron apple orchard, bursting with sunset colors, bushels of apples that never seemed to grow less crisp, whose white and pink tinged flesh could cure a cold or heal a weary heart, not that anyone but Lucien and the sisters noticed. Elain had sidestepped the questions of guests in their gardens, was that bonfire smoke? But after the third or so comment about the just slightly otherworldly state of their lands, Elain had smiled. “We’re blessed to have such a good year for it,” She said, real grin slipping onto her face, “Spring flowers are one thing, but autumn is my favorite season.” The urge to smile back had been overpowering. “ You’re doing it again,” Nesta said, pulling Lucien from remembrance back to their late night meeting. Posture perfect despite sitting crosslegged atop her desk, she raised one cool brow at him. Lucien growled back- a sound he wouldn’t have dared make in their presence months ago- but made himself relax the predatory tilt of his head. “You do it all the time too.” She did. Despite their many careful plans and schemes: making sure he passed for human, filling their roles perfectly and jumping through a half dozen legal loopholes to keep the trade running- Elain and Nesta both failed often to follow the patterns of the other mortals around him. Perched sideways in Nesta’s desk chair, Elain laughed.

She’d come in her night things, a silken slip and robe so gauzy Lucien had been warming the room by degrees the second he’d seen her. It was only like this- after the house was quiet and still, that they spoke of important things. He’d warded the room against being overheard, but that wouldn’t stop a concerned ladies maid from finding her charges out of bed and talking. The pale robe slipped down Elain’s arm as she picked up a mug. Lucien absolutely did not count the freckles he could see, even in the faint light. Paler than copper, lighter than his own skin, they glowed on her. “I thought you were going to tell us more about the Courts,” She said to him, grinning over the rim of thick earthenware they used when the maids didn’t do the tea making. “And you,” Elain craned up at Nesta, “Have letters from Hesperia.” Against one window golden faelight battered, a will-o-whisp attracted, as they seemed unerringly to be, to wherever Nesta was. All that Autumn on their ancestral land, magic bled straight from Lucien’s veins. It had been a hard conversation- one he’d feared would make this trust and easy company between them now impossible- explaining what he’d done. That even Lucien himself wasn’t wholly sure what, beyond claiming their lands and bending them toward protection, he had started. Blood magic wasn’t just risky, or difficult, it called on the oldest forces of power- and so often like wild fae places, followed its own rules. Faeries couldn’t cross the borders without Lucien- and now Nesta, who’d refused to let Elain take any of the burden, who’d slit her own wrists to be bound as a protector- feeling it. It would be impossible, almost completely, to hurt anyone of Acheron blood within their acres. They’d slowly added wardings, Lucien’s magic, but keyed to the sisters: to avoid detection, for further protection, to the house, to Nesta’s library that became their gathering space, to the orphanage and the village school. Every protect they could think of, for their precarious position along the Wall Lucien had blazed through like a forest fire. It was impossible not to notice when close- for as fas as Lucien knew, for the first time in six thousand years, the Spring Court border remained broken. It felt like a warning. And the warnings had only kept coming. Nesta scowled at the will-o-whisp, before shrugging an elegant shoulder. “It’s all more of the same; the Great Desert united for the first time in two thousand years, the wyrms will rise with them. And this.” She passed a sky blue paper to Elain, whose own mouth set, glancing over it, before she passed it on to Lucien. It was a sparse, single sentence, sparkling black on vivid blue. “‘The ships have stopped coming. The High Lord is closing the borders of the Night Court’?” Lucien quoted. How exactly Nesta Archeron, a human who’d never been over the Wall had a direct, if not always helpful line on the Night Court, was not an answer Lucien had ever gotten. Elain set her robe to rights. “Half the continent rallies for war, and Rhysand closes his borders? Does that mean neutrality, or is it possible all that effort is really to go after one court?” Lucien was sure of very few things about that High Lord, but one was that he wasn’t a coward. “If the aim is to take Prythian whole, the Night Court would have to be eliminated first. It is possible.” Lucien sat back, trying to carefully phrase the ambiguity of that male they were hoping- praying- was keeping their younger sister safe. “Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord in our history. He’s as much like the other rulers as high fae gentry might be to a normal human.” “I can’t imagine the other Courts want to ally with him." Elain was, of course, correct. “Not after Amarantha,” Lucien agreed, passing back the paper as Nesta reached for it. “Beron will see any conflict as an opportunity to expand his borders. But after the last fifty years, peace is going to the most popular option unless the High Lords hands are forced.” Calmly, Nesta dropped the missive in a thickly cast bowl he’d hitherto assumed was decorative, and touched a candle to the urge. Pale fire burst forth, incinerating it- not sparkling ink, incendiary ink. “Where did you say that came from?” “One of the trading capitals,” She answered with that viper smile, aggression and secrets. How stupid, Lucien reflected for not the first time, human men must be not to feel the danger of both these women. “What I want to know, is why aren’t there any High Ladies?” Elain raised her eyebrows in silent, echoing query. Different from her determined, furious older sister who researched like she’d use it to fight the world, Elain had been subtly pumping him for every shade and flavor of information about faery life. Not that he wouldn’t answer any question she had. But Elain was smart enough, in those early days, to not actually ask. Lucien admired the skill nearly as much as he valued the trust and actual friendship that had followed. Still, he winced. “Amarantha killed outright the High Lady of Dawn immediately, and spent the next decades steadily culling out potential females heirs to powerful bloodlines. She assumed, correctly, that Prythians wild magic was stronger in female hands.” It was the same thing Hybern had done during the War. How his mother had lost all three of her sisters- and would have died herself, if not for the intervention of the High Lord of Day. Lucien owned the fact of his existence to Helion Spell-Cleaver, and he’d been raised to know it. After all, Vanserra always remembers. Long after the will-o-whisps faded and Nesta retired to bed, Elain and Lucien remained in the golden quiet of the library. It no longer shocked him in quite the same way, her lack of fear, her trust that he knew only appeared to be an easy thing. But they’d gotten so used to each others company- the small touches to continue the public love story, the attentive behavior as instinctive as breathing for Lucien, the honesty, as they lied to everyone else- that it no longer had a hard stop. It was natural, and Lucien could have cut his teeth on how badly he wanted it be wholly real. One of the great clocks of the house chimed two in the morning before they grew quiet, curls escaping Elain’s long braid as she played with the end. Three seasons passed, and Lucien still hadn’t satisfied all of her curiosity. He hoped it never ended. “Seasonal I understand, there’s a feel to that,” Elain was saying now, “But why times of day?” Tired and foolishly brave, Lucien moved faery quick to catch the red ribbon holding her braid as it finally gave to slip free. He plucked it from the air so fast that, as he knew now, with these months that made him stronger and madder and more, her beautiful human eyes couldn’t follow. Elain didn’t even flinch. What existed at all of his filters for this one human girl- who’d he’d never lied to, would never lie to, this blooming, dangerous woman- disappeared. “I might be one of the only faeries who can tell you that, actually.” She took the ribbon from his nerveless grasp, fingertips branding like she were the one with incendiary skin. “Will you tell me?” Smiling wide enough she probably saw his sharp teeth, Lucien stole it back. “Autumn was, is, the oldest court. Still, I only know pieces. The forest and the wild fae came first. Beron was a warlord then, and bound the first territory in his blood. They say he bled out his own brothers to expand the border by each mile- it was under the light of the harvest moon, the dying of the year, and as they bled under the bone trees whose white trunks have long whispers the secrets of our dead, the red of their leaves spread and spread, Autumn, willy and old, arcane and bloody, grew a soul.” Elain’s head was half-cocked, her lips curved in a smile that he’d learned meant she had a dozen, a hundred questions. “If Beron made Autumn, Autumn, does that mean that when the title passes, the territory could change?” He was shaking his head before she was done. “The problem is that there’s magic,” With half a thought, and more than a little smugness at her delighted laugh, Lucien filled the air with tiny butterflies, teardrop wings flickering between gold and blue flame as they flew, “And then there’s the magic of Prythian itself. What started as the whims of powerful, warring gentry took root and grew into something they couldn’t control. It created quirks, anomalies- Night Court has some innate providence over the magic of mind and soul. Day Court possesses immunity, there’s never been an enchantment spoken the Spell Cleaver couldn’t break. Autumn keeps the ways of blood and bone.” “Blood and bone,” Elain quoted back, taking the ribbon from his intertwined fingers. “In all your stories, you left out a vital lesson.” He was frozen as she slid a hand over his wrist, so near tenderness he could taste it in the air. “And what’s that?” Lucien rasped She looped the ribbon once, twice, before looking up to meet his gaze. In the candle light, her eyes were unfathomably dark, pupil less pools like dryads. “High fae,” Elain whispered, tying a perfect bow tight against Lucien’s now racing pulse. “Are all drama queens.” He had to make himself laugh back, heart thudding in his ears at double time. When she finally retired back to bed, the sky bleeding black into blue, Lucien stayed where he was. One by one, the butterflies extinguished, until all he was left with was the scent of honeysuckle and fire, a red ribbon winking from his wrist. There were a thousand shades of red is his long lost home: to call enchantment down, to love, to bind, to hunt, to possess. A bounty, he could never, ever have. It didn’t occur to Lucien then, or for such a long time it seemed dreamed, that she’d placed it to match the mark of his teeth that lay silver against her own pulse. Elain Archeron, after all, learned fast and learned well. — It took three more weeks, the harvest brought in and the estate-consuming activity of making cider that Lucien had more fun than he’d admit overseeing to pass, before the day they’d discussed and discussed came. Nesta woke at dawn, jaw set tight when she found him on the rise of the now dormant orchards, looking down over the house grounds and beyond to the freshly plowed land, blanketed in white. “You feel them coming too?” There’d been incursions in the past- curious Spring fae wandering and returning, others, flying overhead whose providence Lucien could guess. This was something new, the feel of magic, but also that pulse- like the land reaching out to Elain barefoot in her garden, like the wards shuddering when Nesta bled. It was the first snowfall of the year, and Feyre Archeron was coming home. — He felt it when they arrived, hours later. Feyre, not as strong of an imprint as her sisters but gleaming with magic. The black, monstrous ocean on the edge of vision that told him Rhysand had accompanied her personally. Two more, not High fae, that Lucien had to guess were members of Rhysand’s court. Not that he could see anything for sure, since he was halfway up a frozen cypress tree. That was Lucien’s job in this plan: wait, hide without magic to avoid detection. Long enough for Elain and Nesta to explain to their sister the life they’d built from the ashes of their fathers idiocy, the precautions and plans in place for their dangerous, tenuous life on Spring’s edge. They deserved privacy for that long awaited reunion. And some selfish part of Lucien was glad not to have to see the pain on their faces when they saw Feyre as fae. It was one thing to be fascinated with faery power- as they both were in different ways. Merchants daughters, they’d grown with eyes on the horizon, fed impossible stories. Another, to have become the three-headed monster they all were together. But faeries were still the horrors of endless nightmares along the Wall. Even knowing Feyre had been transformed, seeing it could be something very different. He really wasn’t ease-dropping, ignoring the familiar pitch of female voices as they rose and rose in volume. From a distance, Nesta and Feyre sounded alarmingly alike, yelling. Idly, he tied and retied the red ribbon twisted at the end of a small braid. The old, wild gentry of the Alder hills named their knots- Lucien wished he’d learned them all. This day was certain to go to hell, but at least Feyre wouldn’t see an ounce of Spring when she looked at him. Several things happened at once. From the empty nowhere of the shadows from leaves in this dim interior of branches, a winged warrior appeared, and shoved Lucien from the tree. Suddenly, Elain’s voice joined the shouting. Feyre yelled right back- but Nesta, the slam of doors and rushing booted feet, Nesta was running. And then, mid winnow to the safety of the ground- Lucien’s last thought as the shadow of wings shrouded him, fucking Illyrians- the dark reached out and swallowed him whole. He lost track, he lost time- it was close to drowning, seeing the world from the bottom of an ocean. But Lucien could swim, could see underwater. Through the haze of shadow- shadows that burned, no familiar fire, but ice so cold Lucien knew he was losing skin- he could hear the crunch of bone and Nesta’s indignant- not really indignant, he knew that, terrified, she was terrified and furious- voice. Who the hell was so stupid as to grab Nesta? She’d make them pay- Elain would make them pay- he’d make them pay. But none of it was real, nothing truly penetrated the world of shadow that bound him until Lucien heard that light gait he knew by heart, running. Snow flying from beneath fleet feet, her pounding heart loud in his ears. Barely real, until Elain’s furious voice cut through the dark. A second, patient voice- a too calm voice- that told Lucien his attacker was exactly who he’d expected, was speaking to her. If Lucien had been wrapped in anything but shadow, it would have combusted instantly. They’d agreed- they’d all agreed, uncomfortable with the verdict in very different ways- that if Rhysand’s people attacked and went for Lucien as would be the only smart move, he wouldn’t hurt anyone badly. They didn’t know he was here for himself. The honorable Spring Court vassal had died by fire. This wasn’t a real fight. But he wanted to kill that male for even standing near Elain. The gods and Lucien didn’t care about his pain- he could get free of burning shadow, vicious darkness. But if the High Lord of the Night Courts pet shadowsinger even breathed wrong in Elain’s direction, this fight would become much more real. He’s seen the burn scars on his hands, once, from a distance. Lucien would turn him into a pillar of ash, burn him past recognition of even those iron immortal bones. They’d all be ash, if whoever was holding Nesta didn’t back off. Lucien would kill anyone who touched his family. This was the truth of High Fae instincts, hidden beneath court ritual and ageless years. Humans had told tales about it: the love of an immortal heart can never, ever die. It was a romantic story of a faery knight, a quest past the moon and stars to save a mortal love who was doomed to perish with the suns rise. Humans put too much stock in romance. What they didn’t understand was that the ties of High Fae were a savage thing, uncontrollable and unyielding. You had to find your brethren. It wasn’t just mate bonds that made the upper echelons of their society dangerous. Faeries like Lucien were made for that fairytale quest- not for a maiden- but to find belonging, the very thing that pumped in his blood with every step across the Acheron lands. He’d always been alone before. And Lucien would be damned if he let the Night Court threaten what he’d found. That deep water voice was still talking- saying that Rhys was coming, that they were safe, that he was a Spring Court spy, that nothing would touch Elain. And Elain- oh Elain- Lucien could smell her rage. It burned the honeysuckle and sun right out of her scent, until she was awash with fire. He might have been delirious with pain, but how she ravaged him. It was one thing for humans to underestimate her, Elain usually wanted them to. But that any faery could look at her and fail to see the depth of the cleverness in those eyes, the absolute control and charm: markers of dangerous high fae, was beyond him. “You will let him go.” Lucien had never heard her voice like that. In response, that burning ice bit harder. Blackness- deeper than shadow, darker than any sky. Light had never lived in these spaces. Lucien groaned. And Elain- Elain snarled. “These are Archeron lands. And you will let him go.” Lucien couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anymore suddenly, couldn’t breathe. Was Azriel trying to suffocate him? He’d expected them to try to kill him- pain wasn’t an issue- but Lucien wasn’t about to lay down and die. That was when the scent of blood reached him. And so Lucien clenched his teeth and remembered. His mother’s voice saying, my little star. The Wild Hunt, no high fae among them, pulling him straight into the sky. Sorcha, teaching him magic far away from the High Lord of Autumn, telling him to remember. Little star, we are Vanserra, and your fire is like the sun. Lucien burned, and like the sun’s rise, the dark and cold couldn’t win. The first thing he saw was red. Elain’s muddy, icy skirts, in front of his face as she stood between him and an Illyrian warrior. Who was in process of drawing a knife whose reputation was nearly as long as that of the male holding it. Winnowing hurt. But Lucien didn’t care. He slammed into the ground on the other side of her. “Don’t touch her.” Fire so white it put the snow to shame ringed them with the words, but Elain grabbed Lucien’s side anyway. “You’re bleeding,” She hissed, but Lucien was more interested in the blood already on one of her hands. Staggered upright, he tried not to list too heavily into her. “Only from my pores.” Elain made a noise that went right past sympathy into fury. She moved her hands higher, clutching tunic and coat in fists like she was going to hold him upright with will alone. It took the smear, her shaking rage, to note that blood was too red, too thick. Nothing he said now wouldn’t be heard by Azriel but Lucien spied it- the gleam of emerald inlay. An impossibly small Spring Court dagger, buried in the Illyrian’s shoulder. He found the hand on his back and covered it for just a moment, squeezing. Outwardly, Elain didn’t react at all, glaring out the fire like she wanted to rip the male in front of them apart. But Lucien knew she knew, felt the very slightest tension drain from her body. Azriel had gone stone cold, silent. That was all the warning Lucien got the half second before Rhysand winnowed before them, bringing Feyre along. It hurt- a good hurt, to see how well Feyre looked. Healthy, strong, like remaking hadn’t left her delicate at all. Glowing in Night Court clothes, comfortable armed and wearing a crown. Feyre wasn’t just okay, she was finally thriving. She looked good, that split second before she spit Luciens name like a curse. “Let my sister go." Rhysand and Azriel were exchanging hard eyed looks. The melted snow around Lucien’s wall of fire began to form ice. Elain didn’t even flinch. Knowing they were too close, she was smart enough to muffle the words against his coat. “I lost Nesta on the way out. Can you?-“ Lucien whispered back, because frankly, he didn’t give a damn what Rhysand thought was going on. “I can hear her. She found an Illyrian of her own to make bleed.” Over Elain’s shoulder, Lucien bared his teeth at Azriel’s fathomless face. Feyre paced even closer. “Bleed?” It was the same tone of voice he’d heard every single time she’d done something impulsive as a human. She held out one hand, like passing through water, and tried touch the wall. The sizzle was horrible enough- but Feyre’s clenched jaw as she called her own droplet of Autumn power was audible. Fire against fire? No. Trying to spool his back toward herself. Had she really learned that? To turn the drop of each High Lords gift back against their source? But the flames didn’t mix- Lucien bore down on the star in his chest. With a low boom that turned Rhysand’s scowl murderous, Feyre was thrown backward. Skidding through mud and snow, she flung herself back upright with a noise of complete anger. “I will kill you if you try to take her to Spring, Lucien. I swear on the Cauldron.” Elain’s grip tightened until the fabric tried to give. The only reason she wasn’t yelling back, Lucien was sure, was that Nesta wasn’t safe with them in the circle. But her shouting had become audible to everyone. “PUT ME DOWN- YOU WORTHLESS- REVOLTING SAVAGE- PUT ME DOWN NOW”- The most feared General in Prythian’s history had a broken nose. Blood tricked steadily from the off center feature, unflinching as Nesta kicked and screamed. He was using that superior strength to carry her away from his body- arms out. Gods and immortal honey. In a kind, calm voice that belied his wince as one of Nesta’s feet managed to connect, The Lord of Bloodshed spoke. “Here, see. I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to stop you from running into the fight- it’s okay.” He repeated it over and over those last few steps to join them, like a low chant. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Nesta was terrified. Feyre swore. “Nesta, this is Cassian. He’s my friend. We’re going to get Elain out and-“ Nesta slammed her head back into Cassian’s face again, and this time he dropped her. Like they’d all practiced, Nesta ducked around Feyre to dive right into the fire and land at Elain’s other side, chest heaving. Everyone stopped. In the growing mud puddle made by the heat, Elain slid half in front of Lucien before taking Nesta’s hand. Together again, they stood tall. Lucien wanted nothing more than to hide them both behind his body. To burn Azriel to nothing for scaring Elain, to rip the wings from Cassian for thinking he could touch Nesta. But they wanted to make Feyre understand, and he wouldn’t interrupt that. Already breathing more normally, Nesta tilted her face to completely ignore the tableau of dangerous fae before them. “Whose idea was the hideout plan Vanserra? There’s blood in my hair.” She was really asking if either of them had gotten hurt, and he heard it. Like he didn’t have a care in the damn world, Lucien bared his teeth in a red-tinged smile. “I’ll show you what magic to get up to with it.” Still glaring forward, Elain blindly held her free hand up to his face. It was an effort not to catch her waving fingertips and hold on. “I got some too.” “You know each other.” Feyre was vibrating with tension. “How do you even know each other?!” “Perhaps,” Elain said in that utterly steady, silk voice no one should want to be on the wrong side of, “You should have asked that before you attacked.” The most powerful High Lord in Prythian turned huge, otherwordly eyes on her. Lucien could feel the power in the air, that tinge of darkness, electric and consuming,- and fought back the urge to get between Elain and Rhysand’s deadly focus. Feyre opened her mouth, to protest, judging by that stubborn face, but he stopped her with hand brushed over her shoulder. “I think we’re all missing some details. We should talk. Peacefully.” “Yes,” Nesta ground out, “Let’s talk about how you left assassins in our garden." Rhysand raised his hand in an utterly false surrender, tattoos flashing from both wrists. Had he really marked himself to match Feyre? A crown on her head and a living vow between them. She didn’t smell like him yet, but Rhysand wasn’t just branding her as his. He was placing her as a ruler. With a crack of resetting cartilage and bone, the fellest Illyrian warlord their tribes had ever produced stopped in step next to Feyre. “I’m not an assassin.” He wasn’t looking at anyone but Nesta. “We’re here to keep Feyre safe from human discovery, to make sure nothing happens to you or your sisters because of this visit.” Nesta’s only reply was to toss her hair from her face. Marking the moment as much as he was, Elain leaned a little harder against his side. “Let’s talk then.” And there was the catch, on Rhysand’s smug face. Bastard. “Of course we will not hold peace talks of any kind with a member of the Spring Court.” Lucien had the words, but Elain beat him to it. “Luckily,” She purred, “You’ll find no such being here.” She gestured with one graceful hand, Illyrian blood drying a purple red on her palm. “If you’re looking for Spring proceed a few miles that way. There’s a hole big enough in the Wall for a small army, and the boundary wards are down.” Rhysand didn’t even twitch, but Feyre stopped cold. “You left Tamlin?” There was no room for what Lucien was feeling. “The same night you did.” The look that passed between them was understanding- more understanding than Lucien had been able to hope for. Feyre was his friend, and he’d failed her. Feyre marked him as a survivor, and there was no blame there. But the last thing in the world Lucien wanted was sympathy from gods damned Rhysand, so he kept going. “I don’t make a habit of keeping vows to madmen.” Elain’s cheek brushed his chest for half a second, the bloody fabric trying to stick. The tightness in his ribs uncoiled, his wounds healed. Faery grace- did she know she had it? At least where he was concerned? Elain refilled his lungs without even trying. In the pause while Rhysand stared at Lucien, and Lucien stared back- fucking prick, he thought Lucien could be leveled by a gaze? Rolled by that superior power? Lucien was oak, Vanserra. He’d grown up under the hateful eyes of the oldest High Lord, the first and only ruler of Autumn- Azriel pulled the knife from his shoulder and cleaned it, stone-faced. The aggression in the air was a blades edge. Elain, brave Elain, pulled on the hilt. “If that’s settled, we’ll adjourn to the house for a real meeting.” Like it was automatic, showing for perhaps the first time how much younger than the others she was, Feyre crossed her arms, scowling. “I still don’t understand”- Nesta’s hand tightened visibly in Elain’s. Lucien thought he was the only one to see that silent signal, but the Illyrian general’s wings flared. Had he looked away from her, even once? There was no response for Elain to make- already, her hands had drifted to clutch Lucien’s waist in a death-grip that was leagues away from how she’d usually take his hand in this moment. Because of the danger, he reminded himself, because you were hurt. She smiled at her younger sister. “We’ll tell you everything, but let’s get out of the snow, Fey.” Goodbye enough, Lucien winnowed them away. — The High Lord of the Night Court was not having a good day. In the deafening silence after Lucien Vanserra disappeared with Feyre’s older sisters, Azriel’s voice, more rueful than his icy face, tapped at the back of Rhysand’s mind. Rhys let him in, and the memory played back in color: Elain Archeron, more fleet of feet in that highborn ladies dress than anyone would have guessed, running through the snow. The ridiculous jeweled knife in Azriel’s arm, because there was no world under the sky or stars he’d fight back against a tiny human woman in distress. Vanserra, going off like a supernova, and escaping shadows that should have dragged him from this world to the next. It wasn’t fire, Az rumbled, but it burned. Rhys didn’t let it show on his face. He himself could have escaped those shadows whose scope and providence couldn’t be fully learned- but not without hurting Azriel in the process. And not by consuming them. It was leagues from a traditional Autumn gift. Stay high, Rhysand requested, but check the border. I want to know if Vanserra really broke the boundary.. With a nod, Az shot into the sky. Rhys didn’t know Lucien personally. Only in Feyre’s stories: a friend, an ass, a comrade, whose fate in Spring had left her with a sick worry. He could be glad the male was alive just for that, but the facts beyond it were slim. Born after the war, but no one knew when. The obvious and only heir to his fathers court, despite the mess of brothers and carrying his mother’s name in constant defiance. It was common knowledge Beron hated his youngest, seventh son. For power, maybe- but it wouldn’t have taken much to outstrip the brutes born before him. But Lucien’s bright fire had been driven out of Autumn centuries ago. As Tamlin’s emissary he had a good reputation in other courts, close ties to both Dawn and Winter. Charming, clever- he’d been the fox in the Spring Court menagerie the night Amarantha took the land. Raw, unchecked power had never been part of the picture. Power beholden to no one; Lucien Vanserra was a time bomb. No High Lord to answer to, diplomatic ties to nearly every Court, and a long enough troubled past to bear grudges. And Hybern’s soldiers were coming for them all. — The blood on her hands wasn’t all drying red. Elain hadn’t thought to compare it before, the ruby of Luciens and near purple of the winged warriors smeared on her palm was tangibly inhuman. In the pale austerity of the sitting room they’d decided to ward in preparation for this very day, it was all so impossible she found herself smiling. This was their home and they would defend it. Lucien, so close their sides brushed, returned the expression savagely. She’d made herself let go the second they landed, but by some mutual agreement neither had moved as Nesta stomped to the velvet-hung window. Friendship, comfort. Elain wouldn’t let herself think it was more- think about the way he’d looked, covered in blood and burning like a star, barely able to stand and still protecting her. “Those weren’t just guards,” She said, shaking back damp hair. With a flick on his fingers, her hair and dress both dried, mud and blood vanishing. Elain didn’t have to look to know he’d extended the same courtesy to Nesta as well. “Member’s of Rhysands inner Court. The Shadowsinger and the High Command of the Illyrian legions.” Elain nodded, only to be cut off by Nesta dropping the hangings with a huff. “Those are the Illyrians?” Through the scathing voice, Elain knew what Nesta was probably thinking. Those are the creatures of our childhood faerytales? Warriors of impossible skill, impossible courage. As beautiful as they were deadly, who defined their lives by solemn honor. Once upon a time, the guardians of royal children; a single, forsworn Illyrian was worth more than an army. Nesta had always loved stories of the fierce at heart. A faint tremor echoed through the walls, silken wallpaper of almond blossoms shimmering. Lucien could winnow in and out- but no one else. At least not while a drop of Archeron blood remained under their roof. Softly, fingertips even now in the dead of winter darker than gold ghosted a caress over the back of Elain’s hand. “Are you ready?” It was a whisper, just for her. Elain let her smile twist, let the happiness and triumph and real anxiety show in her face. “Let’s find out what they really want.” They’d seen the truth of them already, Elain didn’t imagine she could gain back the ground of being the sweet sister it was safe to talk to after stabbing someone. At the warning of the wards as someone- Rhysand, Elain would guess- trying to winnow directly to where they were, Nesta had crossed the room. Shaking herself from the savage light in Lucien’s golden eyes, Elain followed to sink down on a plush lavender couch. Casually, Lucien followed, to lean in that elegant slump against a pillar between them and the door. Just in time for Feyre to crash through it. “Nice wards,” She snapped in a tone that made Nesta freeze tighter and Elain wince. Not Rhysand bouncing off the boundaries, then. Lucien smiled that grin that showed fang. “You learned to winnow then? Good for you, little Fey.” Knowing they’d had a friendship and seeing it were too very different things as Feyre clicked her teeth back, but smiled. “Could take you now in a fight, Lucien.” Beyond the threshold, Rhysand and the bigger of the two warriors appeared from whisps of darkness. “Let’s see if we can agree to not fight more today,” He said mildly, tucking both hands in pockets. With a familiarity that made Nesta’s brows go sharp, Feyre rolled her eyes, and danced though the doorway to seize them both. Tucking on arm through Rhysand’s amenably crooked elbow and grabbing the other male by the wrist, both let themselves be tugged into the room before Nesta and Elain. Feyre had said she’d found friends, that she’d found a home. Velvet sliding over silk in the silent tension, Elain rose to her feet and held out a hand. A heartbeat later, Nesta joined her. A grateful smile flickered over Feyre’s face, not noticing neither of them had bothered to curtsey. Elain was not bowing to the second man who’d spirited away her baby sister, no matter how damned powerful he was. “These are my older sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron,” Feyre said, “Meet Cassian, and Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.” Cassian took Elain’s hand with a gentleness that bordered on ridiculous, and Rhysand bowed over his own grip, “Please, call me Rhys.” Nesta sat before Rhysand could offer her his hand, leaving Elain with so deep a desire to catch Lucien’s eyes and smirk and that she had to sit herself and focus on Feyre to hide it. Before the youngest Archeron could open her mouth, the sitting room door swung open, silent, to reveal a ladies maid carrying a silver tray. Followed, Elain knew, by the footman who would have come up with her from the ground floor to open the door. Smiling briskly, looking only at Elain and Nesta, she neatly set the tray on the low table before them. “Shall I pour, m’lady?” The extra cups sat neatly grouped, the easy excuse that they were trying new extra varieties of tea from their father’s shipments manifest in the multiple small copper pots. More of an indulgence than either of them would have ordered normally- for all that their cook downstairs had harrumphed in her usually grouchy cheer and grumbled it was damn time those girls did something for themselves. Nesta nodded, returned a small smile. She was pointedly not looking directly forward at their sister’s furrowed brow, or Rhysand, who’d dropped down in his own chair to lean back next to Feyre and watch. “No, I can do it. Thank you, Eileen.” She bobbed a half curtsey, none of them had been able to get her to stop carrying out, and looked over Elain’s shoulder. “My Lord, I didn’t see you there. If I may, while you’re all together, I’d like to thank you again for letting my Jaime help with the horses so young.” “Nonsense,” Lucien said in his human voice- a little less deep, a little more jovial than his normal tone. It made Elain miss the sharp edges. “He’s a good lad. It’s no hardship for us to get the next generations farrier and him a horse to get down to school.” “He’s very clever,” Nesta cut in, before Eileen could thank them again. “Please don’t hesitate to ask if he has need of anything else.” Eileen’s second curtsey was deeper- she knew what Elain did, that in spare time she somehow found between secretly running the family business and handling any legal matters of the estate, not a single child on their lands had failed to benefit from Nesta’s generosity in some way. She expected the warm hand on her shoulder, but it was an effort not to lean into. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Feyre stiffening. “You’ll find,” Lucien promised, thumb stroking over Elain’s velvet covered shoulder in visible affection, “That so long as you continue to take care of my Lady so well, you may ask whatever you want of me and this house.” The second the door snicked shut, Feyre was back on her feet. “We’re not glamoured, what the hell was that?” Nesta, already pouring cups of tea, held one out. “A curse,” She said flatly, “Sugar?” Rhysand spoke over the noise of disbelief Feyre made, voice blank. “Your household servants are under a spell?” He took the cup she’d held out to Feyre. With an equal level of dangerous impassiveness that tightened Luciens hand, still on Elain’s shoulder, Nesta stared back. “We keep all the people on our lands safe from faery intervention.” Feyre didn’t let the staring contest go on long. “And you,” She rounded her attention on Lucien, standing behind Elain. That familiar anger on her face, even in those utterly fae lines, was exactly the same as it had always been. “You set yourself up as a Lord, Lucien? Get your Cauldron damned hands off my sister.” Unhelpfully, Lucien laughed. Unable to stop herself any longer, Elain exchanged a glance with Nesta, found her stony sister rolling her eyes in amusement. She bit into her own smile and tried to explain. “You know titled women can’t live alone, Fey. We needed a head of house.” That Nesta, protective to the bone wasn’t saying anything was probably the only reason Feyre sat down, based on her scowl. “Father is head of house, Flaith Archeron. Where is he? I know ships in our name began sailing again.” Nesta slammed down her cup. “That was me, actually.” And she was doing a better job that their father or grandfather ever had, but that wasn’t what mattered to Feyre. “I don’t understand. Where is father?” “Damned if we know,” Elain muttered, bitter enough that Lucien vaulted over the couch to land beside her, the sort of behavior that usually made her laugh. She didn’t miss that the High Lord tracked the motion. “Feyre, the second Tamlin delivered your payment- “Blood money,” Nesta interrupted. “Father left. He took enough gold to get to the continent, but no one has seen or heard from him since. We had to forge this decades re-swearing of vows to the crown, it wasn’t easy.” A small lie- her and Nesta both had been able to forge their fathers signature since they were children. They’d been reasonably sure that as the oldest of the next generation, Nesta’s blood would adhere to the seals just as well. It was the same reason their main export and import business managed to continue. Acheron trade contracts were bound to the name, passing from father to son, twelve generations down. Faeries didn’t give a damn if Nesta was too female to inherit. Their father’s debts were paid, business could continue. “We had word of a Lord Archeron, here,” Rhysand cut in smoothly. Nesta rolled her eyes again, and pointed to Lucien beside her, “Lord Lysander Archeron.” That her older sister had not- and would not- refer to it as a ruse was a boon that Elain hadn’t expected. Then again, Nesta was and had always been, her best friend. She wouldn’t admit the romantic line between Elain and Lucien was a lie, not while it was something Elain wished were true. No matter how insane it was. Feyre’s mouth was stuck in the shape of Archeron, disbelieving. Rather than follow that string all the way down into Feyre’s disbelief that Elain could make any choice for herself, she turned her best hostess smile on the Illyrian warrior standing against the window. “Tea, Sir?” His face was already healed. No apparent sign of pain or bruising, which made Elain wonder what exactly, had made that scar that draped a half moon through one brow. Cassian sat, wings askew in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, in the remaining chair. “Thank you, the oolong smells amazing.” The cup she passed him with a small smile was absurdly delicate in his hands. “Sir?” “High ranking human soldiers are Sirs or Lords,” Elain told him, ignoring Nesta’s roiling frustration and the way Feyre was reacting to Lucien’s sharp edged grin. To her utter surprise, Cassian laughed, the sound like honey. “Oh, I don’t have a title. Just Cassian is fine.” General doesn’t count as title? Elain thought. The head of Rhysand’s armies, it seemed, wasn’t high born. Meanwhile, Rhysand had evidently had enough of the silent combativeness that could only exist between sisters. “It might be helpful if we started at the beginning.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees in a gesture of human relaxation that looked unnatural in his faery body. Was he faking it? Or was Lucien so keenly comfortable being other that Elain expected it of all fae? “Vanserra, you really think Tamlin has gone mad?” From Feyre’s non-reaction, this was a possibility that had already been discussed. Lucien made a low noise. “There’d been a touch of it since the War, but killing Amarantha destroyed him.” Personally, Elain didn’t care about madness- she wanted the High Lord dead in the ground for nearly killing Lucien, for hurting Feyre. Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “Since the War? Tamlin was a child then, he didn’t fight.” But Lucien was already shaking his head. “He was grown when it ended, had met Amarantha in the days before Clythia was killed.” The hand on her shoulder had slipped away, but Elain felt the weight of his gaze on her face. He’d told her this story before. Elain looked up to find Feyre watching her. “Amarantha- she cursed him. Of course he wanted her dead.” It was obviously hard for them even to speak her name: Amarantha. Elain only knew it from a story book, the tales of a faraway kingdom. Amarantha, the ever blooming flower. Red in the rainbow of her sisters. Sometimes, ever was translated instead as madly. Not for the first time, she wondered if they could be one in the same. Lucien’s full mouth- Elain chided herself from even looking at his lips- had twisted at Feyre’s words. “I hate Tamlin even more than you do, but he shouldn’t have been the one to kill her.” Such acts were unfathomable to Lucien, and Elain knew it. Not killing, not fighting, but what Tamlin had done was a different atrocity altogether. Rhysand frowned. “I wanted to rip out her spine myself, but stopping her was what mattered.” Feyre didn’t know, Elain realized suddenly, watching the confused tension racket up. If Feyre didn’t know, there was no way Rhysand did. She had no way to tell Lucien, rigid and closer to her than he’d been a second before. “I wouldn’t ask such a a thing of my worst enemy, but I can't say I’m surprised you would Rhysand.” The falsely human repose evaporated as the High Lord sat up. “What exactly are you accusing me of?” Like the stories whispered about him across the ocean, calling him the Nightmare Lord, Rhysand’s voice became soft before it was dangerous. And just like that, Lucien's disgust melted into a rueful horror. Elain's hands ached. “You really don’t know. Not at all.” He looked at Feyre, something like an apology on his face. “Tamlin and Amarantha were mates.” @breath-of-sindragosa @flxwer-petals @ladyvanserra @illyrianinterrasen @missanniewhimsy@tntwme@ourbooksuniverse @pitterpatterpot @thestarwhowishes @abillionlittlepieces @my-fan-side @the-eightofswords @wonderland--memories @ourbooksuniverse @cohen-theeleven @

#elucien au #sisterly throwdown/night court meeting round one #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND YELL ABOUT IT #ITS OKAY #Is the ribbon from Elain's hair the one in Luciens now?#YES #Is Cassian instantly #horrifically attracted?#this is the begining #of rhysands bad #not good #very rough week #is feyre more shocked elain was armed #or by the engagment ring??#Can cassian give up sleep entirely in favor of Nesta oggling? we'll see

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mysticandskepticmuses · 4 years

Photo

ALTERED CARBON VERSE SUMMARIES.

Adolphus Murtry. - Corporate mercenary / captain.

Alex Kamal. - Space pilot & navigator.

Amanda Waller. - Director, Protectorate spec ops division. (runs a protectorate kill squad made up of elite soldiers & criminals tasked to the purpose of doing the dirty deeds that need done behind the scenes.)

Amos Burton. - varies / verse; mercenary or mechanic.

A.N.N.A. (private muse.). - Artificial Intelligence,

Bucky Barnes. - Winter Soldier, ex spec ops, private stack, brainwashed. (an elite protectorate operative who remembers very little, if anything, of his life before the military; his stack is kept on ice and dumped into whatever sleeve is available or needed for a wet work job before he is once again returned to the ice. (multiple plot options available re: true identity and restoring his memory, etc.))

Cal Lightman. - Deception expert, known to work w/ Bay City PD & others.

Carl Hickman. - BCPD. (a beleaguered grounder cop, has worked a number of departments over the decades, has settled into organic damage. possibility of captaincy in his future if he wasn’t just quite so outspoken against the corruption and injustice that plagues the bay city police department & oversights.)

Chrisjen Avasarala. - Methuselah, UN ambassador / secretary general.

Clarice Starling. - Protectorate special investigator.

Clementine Pennyfeather. - sex worker / Earth, Bay City. ( a sex worker by trade who sends the majority of her funds off world to support her parents and her young siblings. clementine worked various brothels on the ground but has recently been hired to work at the head in the clouds; her stack was backed up without her knowledge by rei and her back up / stored memories have been used to revive her several times in a cloned sleeve with no knowledge of any previous deaths - she is the favorite of a particular few clients who are willing to pay the cloning costs for the repeat performance.)

Dig 301 (Annabelle Lee). - Archaeologue / co-proprietor of The Nevermore.

Emily Lightman. - student, daughter of Cal Lightman.

Enchantress. - Elder. SEE VERSE.

Frank Castle. - ex Protectorate / Wedge. Retired. Vigilante.

Galen Erso. Protectorate scientist.

Hanna Heller. - (the product of a secret protectorate project to craft supersoldiers from birth; when the project was blacklisted, the majority of the subjects were destroyed to prevent leakage of classified information; hanna was rescued by her ‘father’ erik heller. her life has consisted of learning to live off the grid while learning tactics, combat training and more to enable her to not only survive, but take down the elements in the protectorate and un that could prove a hazard to her continued existence.)

Hannibal Lecter. - Meth. Serial killer, cannibal, etc. (an intelligent social deviant with sadistic tendencies, whose intelligence and savvy, and now, his wealth and influence amassed over the last several hundred years enables him to toy with and take the lives of those around him that cause him displeasure, or are simply offensive to his sensibilities, with little to no fear of being incriminated in any of his many illegal activities. by day, a very well renowned psychiatrist and chef, social artiste and culinary master; by night, a man lacking any true moral boundaries, master manipulator, murderer and cannibal.)

Inara Serra. - Companion to the Meths.

John Robinson. - Retired Protectorate general, explorer.

Jessica Jones. - private investigator.

June Moone. - Meth, Elder archeologist; SEE VERSE. (june is the daughter of a 250+ old meth, daniel moone, and his wife, maria devlin-moone who is a meth and also uses her contacts to enable black market drugs, flesh trade, arms & artifact smuggling on and off world. june is (usually) oblivious to her mother’s dealings, though there is a great deal of not so subtle animosity between mother and daughter with a clear preference in her mother’s eyes for june’s older brother, jacob. june is a renowned Master Archaeologist and has run a number of dig sites across the universe. her specialty / obsession is the martians / ancients. she’s still on the ‘young’ side for a meth, coming in at 69 years old.)

Kaylee Frye. - spaceship mechanic. (she’s always had a way with machines, particularly anything with an engine, ancient or new. she works at her dad’s shop off one of the main spaceports on earth. she dreams of seeing the universe for herself, but without formal training and education, she hasn’t had much hope of that outside of virtual vacations (which she scrimps and saves for every chance she can get). )

Kristin Ortega. - Bay City police detective. (a bay city police detective, organic damage division, bay city, earth, kristin is typically overworked, tired, and dealing with way too much paperwork. her father was a detective, killed on the job and now her dad’s old partner is now her official partner after elias ryker, her partner and lover, was framed for murder – and dealing with a corrupt captain isn’t helping her uncover the truth behind ryker’s framing, or getting to the truth of the murders that ryker was investigating before things went south. (other timelines etc available, before and after season one, this is just the starting point for default.))

Laura Kinney. - (the product of illegal genetic experimentation by the protectorate, laura is typically on the run and trying to steer clear of the protectorate and or anyone else that might want to get their hands on the regenerative / healing abilities that her genetic code grants. she has a stack but it isn’t encoded / doesn’t register as anything / anyone in particular when it’s scanned which means any encounter with police, security, anything that requires registration is a threat to her and flags her location in the system. off the grid is her friend. )

Laurens Bancroft. - Methuselah; varies depending on verse/ timeline.

Malcolm Reynolds. - ‘retired’ Quellist, ship captain, smuggler etc.

Naomi Nagata. - space ship engineer.

Natasha Romanoff.- ex spec ops. ‘retired’.

Padme Amidala. - retired world governor, ambassador.

Penny Robinson. - explorer, travels w/ John Robinson.

Poe. - AI, proprietor of The Raven / The Nevermore.

Quellcrist Falconer. - leader of the Quellist rebellion.

Reileen Kawahara. - crime syndicate boss & more. (she’s got her fingers in all the black market / illicit trade / arms dealing / drug trade pies, she has blackmail and leverage on a ridiculously high percentage of those in the UN and the protectorate, on earth and elsewhere, and will do anything, literally anything, to get what she wants. yakuza era, envoy era, post envoy merc era, and kingpin era / season one era available. (more info available on request for any of these.))

Rick Flag. - spec ops, Protectorate special division.

Riddick. - sole survivor of planet Furya, criminal, rogue. ( murderer, escapee from a dozen max security prisons, somehow still in his original sleeve (what can he say, he’s attached to it), riddick is a genetic aberration, one of the few survivors of an off shoot of humanity from the now desolated planet furya. he exists off the grid, in the shadows, and if you see it coming it’s probably because he wants you to. (various plots available.))

River Tam. - Protectorate experiment; psychic; super soldier. SEE VERSE. (varies for plot.) (an elite soldier, gifted from birth and augmented further by the protectorate, river was one of the few that survived the process that created the elite unit crafted to hunt and track the envoys during the quellist rebellion. her ability to adapt, to absorb, to blend, to merge efficiently in any sleeve rivals that of the envoys, and she has altered abilities - precog and telepathy, though some say it’s just intuition and being able to predict the variables of any given situation, given enough data. envoy era & ‘modern’ season plots available.)

Rupert Giles. - historian.

Takeshi Kovacs. - ex Protectorate spec ops; Quellist. ( leveraged into service into an elite protectorate black ops squad at the tender age of ten, takeshi spent the next 20-30 years killing, torturing, decimating rebellious forces and or whomever the protectorate sent him after. when reunited with someone from his past, he fled the protectorate and went on the run, joining the quellist rebellion until that too, was destroyed. he spent the next handful of years on the run and doing various degrees of merc / wet work until he was gunned down and put on ice. 250+ years later, he gets pulled out to solve the murder of a methuselah - a 350+ year old man who promises him a fortune, a sleeve of his choice, and a clean slate / pardon if he can find the truth behind the murder… but there are so many more things at play than either of them could guess and it takes all of a night for things to go from bad to worse. (protectorate, envoy, merc, season one & post season one plots available.))

Winifred Burkle. - (a skilled astrophysicist and virtual reality coder, fred was recruited into the protectorate in her university years. it took her almost a decade for her to discover what the protectorate was truly using her work for and she waited for the opportunity to not just sabotage her research and the protectorate’s work, but to flee. backing herself up, she’s double-sleeved. she exists in the forays of the web, keeping herself mostly out of trouble, just wanting to try and find a way to undo the damage that her work was used for (brainwashing & torture). her second sleeve is root, @magicandsciencemuses who has, unbeknownst to fred, made a triplicate, whiskey, who uses her wiles and skills to ferret information and blackmail visitors of some of the elite brothels of earth.)

Villanelle. - assassin for hire.

Wilson Fisk. - crime lord.

Alena Mayberry. - SEE VERSE.

Alexander Petrakis. - Methuselah.

Ariel Hayden. - Meth’s daughter; runaway; high bounty on head.(the daughter of a methuselah who has left her world behind; traveled in cold storage in slow lanes to minimize risk of discovery. has a small fortune at her disposal that she squirreled away but knows she has to make it last. has an altered identity stack and is in a new, black market sleeve. can be on earth or any world really. just wants to see the universe without her father’s restrictive / protective rules in place. probably has a bounty for her SAFE return to her homeworld._)

Ashen Zenon. - High level merc / assassin for hire.

Belle Duponte. - Earth grounder, works to pay off father’s debt / sleeve. (the daughter of an once highly regarded scientist who has been shunned for his studies, she struggles to keep food in their stomachs and a roof over their head. she works several part time jobs, including at an antique book store that also specializes in luxury station, ink, quills, etc. and works part time as a waitress and as a ‘lab tech’ aka grunt labor at the local prison / re-sleeving facility. she is in her first, and likely, only sleeve.)

Felicia Adams. - geneticist, emergency care doctor / works at psychasec. (a doctor and geneticist, felicia plies her trade at psychasec modeling and crafting the elite and bizarre sleeves designed for the methuselahs of earth. the health insurance and re-sleeving package perks are the only reason that she continues to work there as she has a young daughter that suffers from a genetic disorder and requires constant care until felicia can afford a complete genetic makeover and re-sleeve into a healthy clone. (definitely options for her to get dragged into illegal / black market schemes for a quick buck. also possibilities for the Trouble that is the daughter’s dad to show up and find them too.))

Laurel Isley.. - Meth, brothel owner, sociopath; SEE VERSE. (a meth with her feet on the ground and her fingers in the muck, laurel runs several elite brothels that cater to the worst of the worst desires of the meths that want to play at being bad and the few grounders that can afford her services. her brothels also serve as anonymous meeting grounds for certain clients vs. service providers - mercs, assassins, etc. that she arranges for a ‘small’ fee. she also is a pro at creating false idents, which is no easy feat in this day and age. she is very much a sadomasochist and indulges her desires in the real and virtual whenever she finds a suitable playmate (willing or otherwise).)

Petra Nikonova. - verse dependent.

Rori Dearing. - bartender, tattoo artist. SEE VERSE. ( a young and rebellious meth, a social warrior, rori is the younger sister of @magicandsciencemuses ‘s claire dearing. she is a human rights / sleeve rights activist and is often found at rallies and protests regarding various lack of rights for prisoners, military service members, victims that are given the worst of the sleeves available, and in general, the money making machine that is the protectorate’s prison system, and the utter lack of opportunity for reform and education. she works as a 3-d / interactive tattoo artist and a part time bartender. )

Saori Dearing. - daughter of planetary governor, Quellist. SEE VERSE. ( the daughter of the lord governor on harlan’s world, saori is a secret ally and informant to the quellist rebellion. most of her plots take place during the envoy era where she works with quell to provide military information, travel codes, and helps supply weapons, food and basic supplies to the rebellion on harlan’s world / elsewhere. (I have verses where she is involved romantically with Quell and or Takeshi but that isn’t a necessity for plots!) she is primarily envoy based but aus / plots can be worked out for ‘modern’ day plots.)

#VERSE. ( altered carbon. )

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE LESSON LEARNED (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Detective Steel entered the Fortezza trying to prevent a murder. But the way this case is going, he might soon be the victim of one. A serial killer from twenty years ago has set her sights on our detective, and if she wins, her murderous curriculum will be renewed.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Lesson Learned.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

MICK: Hey, Jay?

JUNO: Yeah, Mick?

MICK: How come it feels like every time I see you we get trapped in some lunatic’s crazy murder-game?

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. Just lucky, I guess.

MUSIC: STARTS.

MICK: Yeah. Now that you mention it… I think you might have pretty bad luck, Juno.

JUNO: Me?!

MICK: Yeah! I mean, the Proctor locks us up, gives us both guns, and says we’ll have to shoot each other if she’s gonna give us the antidote to the-the-the whatyacallit, the-the Sundial Toxin?

JUNO: Hourglass Venom.

MICK: Ha, that’s a good one, Jay, but I’m pretty sure it’s Hourglass Venom, like I said.

JUNO: That’s not what you—

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

PROCTOR (FROM COMMS): That’s enough bickering, Mr. Steel, Mr. Mercury. Now, your test is just down this hall. Onward! Education awaits.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The attic of the Fortezza was a condemned cell block from back in the days when this place was for sealing criminals away – not rewarding them. In a lot of ways it reminded me of my old wedding gown: it was dusty, smelled like a lot of dreams had probably died in it, and pushed off into a dark corner somewhere in hopes that everyone would just forget the damn thing ever happened.

And the worst of it all was the tenant here: the Proctor, a fame-seeking serial murderer who’d just come out of retirement and was making up for lost time. First, she planned to kill Mick and me with Intro to Chemistry, and then in two hours she’d move on to the first candidate for mayor in fifty years who might actually try to make this city a better place.

That guy’s name was Ramses O’Flaherty. And my name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye. And right then I was the only thing standing between Ramses and death. And me and death.

MICK: (WHISPERING) Psst! Hey, Jay!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And him and death.

MICK: Jayjay! I just thoughta somethin’!

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was usually the only thing standing between Mick and death.

MUSIC: ENDS.

MICK: This is, like, my moment, isn’t it? I took this job so I could prove that danger is what my life’s missing. And hey, this is very dangerous! That’s pretty lucky, I think.

JUNO: With luck like that, you should start investing in lottery tickets.

MICK: Hey, that’s not a bad—

JUNO: Don’t!

(QUIETLY) Can’t make that joke with him, Steel, he’ll really do it.

MICK: What was that?

JUNO: Alright, so you want to be a P.I. or a special agent or something?

MICK: I-I was thinking more like a superhero, but… I’m willin’ to work my way up.

JUNO: If you want to do this, you gotta be able to analyze your situation. So, they must’ve given you some training before they stuffed you in that uniform – didja pick anything up?

MICK: Uhhh, I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.

JUNO: And, there it is.

MICK: Except… oh, oh!! They showed a map of the Fortezza! And I even memorized it!

JUNO: Wait, seriously? That’s perfect, Mercury!

MICK: You’re tellin’ me! And hold on, now, gears are turnin’, gears are turnin’…

Oh! Sweet shining nebula, Jay, I think my brain mighta just done a clue!

JUNO: We’ll clean that up later. This is great! If you remember how this old cell block is organized you should be able to get us to, I don’t know, a boarded up window or wall or something, and maybe we can break through—

MICK: This floor wasn’t on the map!

JUNO: …What?!

MICK: Yeah! They didn’t tell us anything about these floors during training at all! Heh. Wow, this Proctor really is smart, isn’t she? I mean, I’ve lost a room before, but losing two whole floors? You’d have to be, like, a genius to hide two whole floors from the people who own the building!

JUNO: I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. (SIGHS) I don’t know if that’s a sign of genius, Mick, but it’s definitely a sign of something.

MICK: Like what?

JUNO: Not sure yet. But I’ve got a hunch.

MICK: I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, but you should probably work on your posture, buddy.

JUNO: That’s not– nevermind.

(CALLING) Are we there yet? I’m tired and he keeps bugging me.

PROCTOR: Just one more door, Mr. Steel. That’s it… just ahead…

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Your next exam!

SOUND: DOOR CLOSES.

JUNO: Wow, more mannequins!

You shouldn’t have. We moving on to Art 102 now?

PROCTOR: No no, art is behind us. The three lessons you’ll have to pass today are the three Rs: Reasoning, Reading Comprehension, and… well, the last one’s a surprise.

MICK: Sure glad spelling isn’t one of them. I didn’t know surprise started with an R.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The test on Reasoning didn’t look like much. Four mannequins stood in front of us, each with a button on its chest and a tangle of wires snaking into its feet. But there was going to be a trick to it. There had to be.

PROCTOR: The mannequins are only half of the test. Are you ready for the second half?

JUNO: Depends. Is it four more mannequins?

MICK: Jay, that was kinda rude.

PROCTOR: No no, I’m afraid not. Now listen closely, because I’m only going to say this twice:

MICK: Twice?

PROCTOR: Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands. Two wore shirts of red, and two wore shirts of blue; but none would stand next to another wearing the same color shirt.

JUNO: Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

MICK: Who? What? Who??? What???

JUNO: It’s a puzzle, Mick. A stupid puzzle.

PROCTOR: It’s a very good puzzle. Now be quiet.

(CLEARS THROAT) Aisha, the baker whose shirt was red, held hands with only one other person. Sponge’s shirt was also red. Vladimir held hands with two people, one of whom was a detective; the other was Aisha. Sage could not tolerate anyone holding her right hand. Vladimir was not the murderer.

MICK: Well! That got exciting very quickly!

PROCTOR: Among them were a detective, a baker, a fortuneteller, and a murderer. If you do not find the murderer, they will kill everyone else in line – and they will kill you, too. (CACKLES) So tell me: which of these four mannequins is the murderer?

JUNO: This is what you got famous for? Seriously?

PROCTOR: I know! Very impressive, isn’t it? I’ll give you a tip: in a multiple choice exam, always be certain to eliminate silly answers before—

JUNO: It is not impressive! It’s the kind of thing they give to bored middle schoolers when the radiation storms are too bad to go outside for recess!

PROCTOR: So if you can’t solve it, detective, what does that make you?

JUNO: Too busy for this stupid—

MICK: Hey, wait a second, wait a second. You said you’d say all that twice, right? Can you say it again?

JUNO: You’re not really buying into this.

MICK: You said bored middle schoolers did these! And, well! I was a bored middle schooler for nearly five years!

JUNO: Mick, you repeated those grades ‘cause you never went to school.

MICK: Come on, Jay. I really need this. Please?

JUNO: Fine… fine, listen to the dumb puzzle again.

PROCTOR: (CLEARS THROAT) Sage, Vladimir, Aisha, and Sponge walked down the road together side-by-side, holding hands. Two…

JUNO (NARRATOR): While our host gave Mick the rerun of her stupid puzzle, I took this opportunity to investigate my feelings about the last few hours.

Stupid goddamn waste of time puzzles! What am I, some kinda—

MICK: Shh, Jay! I’m tryin’ to listen!

JUNO: Hmph.

PROCTOR: …Vladimir was not the murderer. There. Your last reading. Think carefully – and be sure to check your answers.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It wasn’t an easy puzzle, sure, but it was pretty typical crime scene investigation. Gather the clues, listen to the witnesses, rebuild the past. Hell, this was easier: these witnesses couldn’t even lie to you.

If Mick could solve this… maybe he had a point. Maybe danger was the missing ingredient in the Mick Mercury cocktail.

MICK: Hmm. I see.

JUNO: You… do?

MICK: I thought about it real hard. And my answer is… we press all the buttons at the same time.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Or… not.

PROCTOR: A very… interesting approach.

JUNO: Mick, seriously?

MICK: Yeah! I mean, I thought about the whole puzzle thing, but then I decided it was probably just a red herring. ‘Cause look at them all! They’re so weird and creepy! And I swear a second ago, I saw them all twitch or something, real murrrrderer stuff, so we gotta—

JUNO: They didn’t move, Mick. And the murderer is Sage, on the far right.

MICK: Well, I mean, yeah, that’s the obvious answer.

JUNO: Oh, yeah? Why’s that?

MICK: Because… uh…

(NERVOUS LAUGHING) I-I mean I-I don’t think I gotta waste both our– our time, tryin’ to talk through things we both already know, Jay—

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Mick, where the hell are you going?

MICK: C-c-c-y-y-y… I-I… ‘cause– like, d-don’t you feel p-p-poisoned? Definitely feel poisoned, Jay; at– at least a little poisoned? So, I’ll just press this here button, and—

JUNO: Damn it, Mercury! That’s the wrong button!

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS. THUD.

MICK: What gives?! You said far right! I was goin’ for the far right!

JUNO: You were going for our right, Mick. You need to go for their right.

MICK: No, I mea– I mean—! Well that’s just—!

(SIGHS) Yeah. Yeah okay, that’s reasonable.

SOUND: BUTTON CLICKS. CONGRATULATORY JINGLE PLAYS.

PROCTOR: Excellent job, Mr. Steel! You’ve passed your Reasoning exam with flying colors!

SOUND: HINGE CREAKS OPEN.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Above us opened another trap door, and, another ladder fell out. The top floor. Finally. And with an hour to spare.

MICK: Whew! So, uh, good thing we made it through that one, huh… Juno?

…Jayjay?

JUNO: Give me your gun, Mercury.

MICK: …What?

JUNO: The gun the Proctor gave you. Give it to me.

MICK: But Jay – I’d never shoot you, you know that—

JUNO: You’d never shoot me on purpose, sure. But whatever the hell is up there for the Reading Comprehension test? Some monster made of goddamn books or something? You’re gonna aim for its table of contents and shoot me straight through the epilogue.

MICK: But Jay, we always got into trouble and it was always fine—

JUNO: Yeah, when we were kids. You’re forty, Mick. You’re not a kid anymore! You’re a screw-up, and this stupid danger idea of yours is going to get me killed. Now give me your gun.

MICK: I’m a… screw up?

JUNO: Don’t. You say it about yourself all the time.

MICK: Yeah, but… it’s different hearing it from, uh… Alright.

SOUND: FABRIC RUSTLING.

Here’s the gun.

JUNO: Thanks. Now let’s go.

SOUND: ROPES CREAKING.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I didn’t mean to snap at Mick like that.

Well actually I did mean to, but I felt bad about it, at least. And that's gotta be worth something, right?

Anyway, I didn’t have time to let my conscience have the floor. I could already feel the Hourglass Venom working through me – I could feel my head bloat and stomach throb. It would kill me soon. And just a few minutes after that, it’d kill Ramses.

MICK: (COUGHING) Ah, jeez buddy, I… really don’t feel so good.

JUNO: Yeah, a fatal dose of poison’ll do that to you. (COUGHS)

MICK: I guess in some ways we’re lucky, though. Back in the day I remember her tests were all over the news, and they were so…

There was that guy she killed with a geometry test… I’ve never seen someone’s legs go at that angle before. Or the Phys Ed case: the lady she made run so hard she wore holes in her feet. Or, the worst of all… Home Economics. What makes a person do all that, Jay?

JUNO: Who the hell knows, Mick. It’s not my job to psychoanalyze the killers. I just lock ‘em up.

PROCTOR: Then allow me, detective: raw creative genius. The greatest minds in the world are overtaken with it – the need to build, to create. When one is as skilled as I am, it simply… overtakes you. I am but a slave to the Muse within me.

MICK: But… that doesn’t make any sense.

JUNO: Mick, stop humoring her already.

MICK: No, but it doesn’t make any sense! If she’s got this creative bug or whatever, why should she wait twenty years—

PROCTOR: The Muse cannot be tamed!

(CHUCKLES) > Those old murders were excellent, of course. Nobody’s ever thought of all the applications for a protractor that I have. But genius, like wine, only improves with age.

JUNO: Unless the container’s as cracked up as you are. Then it turns into vinegar.

PROCTOR: I am not vinegar! You’ll see. This is a new era for the Proctor. My second creative career begins with you. And it will be even greater than the first. Go. The Reading Comprehension test is just through that door.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

MICK: (YELPS)

JUNO: …Wait, seriously?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

PROCTOR: Deadly seriously, of course! (CACKLES)

JUNO: It’s just… sixteen more mannequins.

PROCTOR: Just sixteen mannequins, he says! Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to read the directions first?

MICK: Hey, Jay! There’s a paper on this table that says “Reading Exam Directions!”

JUNO: Don’t—! Touch it.

SOUND: PAPER FLIPPING.

“Davis, Major, Anya, Jean, Cobweb, Hephaestus, nine of their friends, and Sponge were walking down a road side-by-side, holding hands—” (GIGGLING)

MICK: I mean, Jay, that is a pretty wide road, but I don’t see what’s so funny—

JUNO: This is the best you’ve got, Proctor? Seriously? Twenty years to think something up and you start writing crossword puzzles?

PROCTOR: They are not crossword puzzles! They are works of logical genius, designed to test your…

JUNO: Ha!

PROCTOR: Stop laughing!

JUNO: HA!

MICK: Heyyy, uh, Jayjay, maybe don’t piss off the killer lady so much—

JUNO: No, come on, Mercury, this puzzle is hilarious. Listen to this: “Thompson had a deadly nut allergy, but none of them knew Anya very well. Major often confused Sponge with one of their friends in a yellow shirt; Cobweb was known to fingerpaint with peanut butter”—? (COUGHING)

PROCTOR: The test you’re laughing at is going to kill you, do you understand? And then who will be laughing? Time’s up! I will! D Minus!

MICK: If you’re laughing, you must have a plan, right? You know the solution to the puzzle?

JUNO: (COUGHING) ‘Course I do. Same as the solution to every test I ever passed in school.

MICK: Study hard? Apply yourself?

JUNO: No. Cheat.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC POWERING-UP BEEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I should’ve thought of it hours before. Getting rid of headaches is the point of technology, isn’t it? Or maybe that’s aspirin. Aspirin’s a kind of technology. Shut up, Steel. The point is, the Theia Spectrum had a filter for detecting electromagnetic frequencies.

THEIA: Now detecting electromagnetic frequencies.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Like that. The cables coming out of the mannequins’ feet had to be hooked up to all the other junk in here, didn’t they? All I had to do was track whichever mannequin had the cable that went back to the door and not… whatever the hell they were gonna do to us. It was hard to see through that rat’s nest, though… and even harder with all the shouting in my ear.

MICK: (COUGHING) Oh, Juno! The mannequins, they’re—

JUNO: Not now, Mercury.

MICK: But it’s just like downstairs, I’m trying to tell you that—

JUNO: You said you wanted to help, right? Well, y’know how you can help me now? By shutting up, staying still, and letting the goddamn professional do his job!

MICK: (WORRIED GROAN)

JUNO (NARRATOR): I found it in seconds: the mannequin three in from the left had a thick coil of wire extending from its feet, through the floor, and toward the door on the room’s far side. The other mannequins weren’t hooked up to any traps I could see – just a little glowing box on each of their chests.

When I thought about it later, I realized those were wireless transmitters. And when I thought about it later, I realized I probably shouldn’t have interrupted Mick, too.

MICK: Jay—

JUNO: It’s that one. Come on, let’s press the button and get the hell out of here.

MICK: I don’t know if you should get so close, Jay; I swear I saw ‘em move and—

SOUND: BUTTON CLICKS. CONGRATULATORY JINGLE PLAYS.

JUNO: There, see? Button’s hooked up straight to the door, now it’s open. Let’s– gahhh!

SOUND: WOODEN RATTLING & CLANKING.

MICK: Jay! The mannequins are moving!

JUNO: I can see that! This one’s got my arm!

MICK: And that one got your other arm!

JUNO: Gee, I had no idea!

PROCTOR: I educate you… I craft these tests for you with my own blood, sweat, and mannequins… and this is how you show your appreciation? You cheat?!

JUNO: Watch it, buddy, you’re gonna pull my damn arm off— ahhhh!

MICK: Oh, no, no, no! Don’t come any closer…

SOUND: RATTLING GETS LOUDER.

PROCTOR: Well, I suppose the last test will have to be cancelled. And too bad: I had an excellent plan for your ‘rithmetic exam.

JUNO: That doesn’t even start with an R, you has-been! AH!

PROCTOR: Perhaps not. But here’s another R for you: Recess!

MICK: Recess? Hey, that sounds kinda nice…

Wow, those things are movin’ quick!

PROCTOR: At Recess, all rules are suspended. Good luck, Mr. Steel and Mr. Mercury. Your classmates play rough.

SOUND: CACOPHONY OF WOODEN CLUNKS & BANGS.

MICK: Jay, what do we do?

JUNO: Personally, I think I say bye-bye to my arm, because it feels like Pinocchio over here’s gonna pull it out of its socket.

MICK: Seriously! Oww!

That one almost got me! I’d fend ‘em off for you, but you took my gun and—

JUNO: Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me! Just get the hell out of here, Mercury! I opened the door, you go without me. Maybe you can find the antidote on your own.

MICK: I’m not just gonna leave you!

JUNO: You’d better! Augh! The only thing I want less than for this wood shop project to rip me in two is to watch it rip you in two first!

MICK: But I can’t— oww!

JUNO: Just go before one of those things gets you!

MICK: I said I wasn’t gonna leave you!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And so in came Mick Mercury to the rescue, fists flying.

MICK: (YELLING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): And sure, it wasn’t exactly elegant—

MICK: Ow, ow, ow, ow, that smarts—!

JUNO (NARRATOR): —but it got the job done.

MICK: Hey, I got ‘em!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And there goes number two.

MICK: The other ones are getting closer!

JUNO: Make for the door, quickly!

SOUND: CLANKING NOISES FADE. PANTING, GASPING. DOOR CLOSES.

MICK: (COUGHING) That was a great idea, Jay… good on ya, closin’ that door behind us.

JUNO: Close it? I didn’t close it. I thought you did.

PROCTOR: Aaaaaaand locked!

SOUND: LOUD SNAP.

Did you really think I’d have remote controls on my mannequins and not on the doors, Mr. Steel? You underestimate my genius.

JUNO: To be honest, Proctor, I haven’t seen any evidence of it yet.

PROCTOR: Of course you have! I have accounted for every possibility! You have been outsmarted at every turn!

JUNO: (COUGHS) Funny. I remember us outsmarting you, twice so far.

PROCTOR: That’s—!

But you still haven’t passed the biggest test of all, have you? It is wise to save the most difficult questions for last, but… your hourglass is running low. Only ten minutes remain before the venom claims you, and only fifteen before I claim Ramses O’Flaherty. But you still have one test to pass: Arithmetic.

JUNO: Still doesn’t start with an R.

PROCTOR: The equation is simple, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you any hints on this one. You will find it written over the doorway you must pass through. And you will find the window you seek on its other side.

JUNO: What about the damn antidote?

PROCTOR: Oh, if you solve this test, Mr. Steel, you will certainly have found the antidote. Though I must say that’s a big “if.” Good luck.

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

JUNO: Alright… alright, let’s do this stupid puzzle. I think I can feel my lungs curdling.

MICK: Uh… Jay? Did you look at this equation yet? ‘Cause… I’m a liiiittle worried.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I looked.

JUNO: Oh, god damn it.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And this was what the Proctor wanted us to solve:

A stick figure, minus a skull and crossbones, equals a picture of an open door.

MICK: Is that algebra? I was never any good at algebra.

JUNO: The door will only open when we’re not poisoned anymore.

MICK: Hey, that’s alright! How do we do that?

JUNO: I have no idea.

MICK: That’s… less good.

JUNO: Either that, or, the door will only open for someone who isn’t poisoned…

And we know one way to get the antidote.

MICK: Jay, come on, don’t…

JUNO: Here. Take this gun. I never should’ve taken it from you. Just shoot me and get it over with.

MICK: I mean, come on. This isn’t funny.

JUNO: Usually I’m very funny, Mick. Just not trying right now.

MICK: I’m not gonna shoot you.

JUNO: You should.

MICK: Well, whether or not I should, I’m not, alright? You shoot me.

JUNO: No.

MICK: Why not?

JUNO: That’s a stupid question and you know it. I know you’ve got your dumb danger thing or whatever, but it’s a fantasy, and this is real. Just take the damn gun already.

MICK: My whole point was that I didn’t like my life the way it was, alright? I’m not gonna like it any better if I gotta think about shooting you all the time, okay?

JUNO: Hmph.

MICK: Look. We’ve still got ten minutes for this to turn out okay. Okay?

(COUGHS) Anything can happen in ten minutes, Jay. Anything.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Or, nothing can happen in ten minutes. We spent our time kicking the door, coughing, searching the walls for a secret passage, coughing, scanning the room with the Theia Spectrum, and coughing. But that was it. No way through, no secret passage, no hidden antidote: the room was bare. Mick and I were the only things in it.

Oh wait – I think at one point, Mick might’ve puked in the corner. But besides that, there was nothing in the room but us.

SOUND: COUGHING, PANTING.

MICK: How much more time we got?

JUNO: Two minutes.

MICK: That long? (PANTS) Agh, this hurts.

JUNO: (GASPING) So whaddya think, Mercury? Is this how you expected to die? Yukking it up and wishing you’d killed Juno Steel?

MICK: Kinda, yeah.

JUNO & MICK: (LAUGH-COUGHING) Ow, ow, ow!

JUNO: So it turns out this job wasn’t just the biggest mistake of your life, Mick: it was the last one, too.

MICK: Hey, don’t count me out yet. I still got a minute and a hal– agh! Ah-ahhh—!

JUNO: Mick? Mick!

MICK: No, no, I’m alright, I’m alright. (COUGHS) Hey, Jay… why d’you think she goes through all this, just to kill people? I mean… if she wanted to just poison us and lock us in a room, she coulda done it at two minutes in. Hell, she didn’t even need to wait for you – she coulda poisoned me while I was napping in the closet. So… why? Why would you do all that?

JUNO: That’s… that’s a good question, actually.

Well, I mean, based on what was riling her up earlier, she probably just wants to prove she's smarter than us?

MICK: What? But she’s a genius! Why’s she gotta prove it?

JUNO: Being smart and feeling smart are different things, Mick.

MICK: I guess so. I just can’t believe… she cheated us, after all that.

JUNO: Cheated us?

MICK: Yeah. I mean, I thought her whole thing was that her victims can technically make it through her tests alive, right? How’s it prove she’s so smart if she just poisons us and locks us in a room? It doesn’t seem fair.

JUNO: No… it doesn’t.

Actually, now that you mention it, it’s not fair at all.

MICK: I mean, yeah, I’m upset about it too, Jay, but I don’t know how much complaining’s gonna do right now—

JUNO: And it doesn’t prove a damn thing, does it? If one of us has to die, she hasn’t proven she’s smarter than us. It doesn’t make sense.

Mick, I’m about to do something really stupid.

MICK: Yeah? Mind if I join you?

JUNO: Kinda. Just promise me something, alright? If this goes bad – and, trust me, it’s probably gonna go bad – promise you’ll try the door? One last time?

MICK: How come I get the feeling this isn’t gonna be the fun kind of stupid, Juno?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Mick got that feeling for a good reason. Because the man was a disaster, and a mess, and a klutz, and a… well, you get the idea. But here’s one thing he wasn’t, not really: an idiot.

So I took the pistol the Proctor had given me, and I pointed it right in between my eyes.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

MICK: Jay! What’re you doing?!

JUNO: Later, Mick. See you on the other side.

MICK: Put down that gun!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

Juno!

SOUND: THUMP.

Augh, Jay! Jayjay! Don’t leave me here, buddy, come back! You can’t just shoot yourself and leave me—!

JUNO: The other side of that doorway!

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

MICK: Owww! That smarts!

JUNO: Damn right it does. That’s what happens when you load your antidote into the barrel of a revolver, Mercury: you get all the fun of a shot with none of the cartoon band-aids.

MICK: But– hey, I-I feel better! The poison’s all gone! You did it, Jay! We made it! But how—?

SOUND: COMMS BEEP.

PROCTOR (FROM COMMS): Well done, Mr. Steel. Now, as promised: the door.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

Come along, I’m waiting for you.

JUNO: I’ll tell you while we run. Got a mayor to save.

SOUND: RUNNING FOOTSTEPS.

Honestly, Mick, you figured it out before I did. The answer’s all in the motive. Why does the Proctor kill the way she does?

MICK: To prove she’s smart, you said.

JUNO: Exactly. And it doesn’t count as proving she’s smart unless there’s a way we could have figured it out. She said that if we made it through her tests, we’d be cured – which we assumed meant she’d give us the antidote, but she never told us we didn’t have it already.

MICK: But… she told us to shoot each other!

JUNO: And because I’m your friend and you’re a moron, she knew we’d never do it.

(PANTING) So if we had to have access to the antidote somewhere, and there were no hidden compartments or anything in that room—

MICK: That means she had to have given us the antidote ahead of time! Wow, Jay. You’re really good at this, huh?

JUNO: I get by. Barely. And usually with a broken leg or three.

SOUND: DOOR OPENS.

This must be the room.

SOUND: WIND.

MICK: And that must be the window you were looking for, right?

JUNO: Looks like it, but… where the hell is the Proctor?

JUNO (NARRATOR): Through the window I could see the Fortezza courtyard below: the crowd of people shuffling into their seats and Ramses O’Flaherty shuffling his papers at the podium. I checked my watch. 11:55. Only five minutes until the Proctor took out Ramses… and I had no idea where the hell she was.

PROCTOR: (LAUGHING) You’ve done very well to make it this far, Mr. Steel, Mr. Mercury. Better than expected, I will admit. But this is the end of the line. Welcome to your Final Exam.

JUNO: Where the hell are you?! Damn it, you really did lie to us!

PROCTOR: I didn’t lie to you. I said I was waiting for you, and I was… just not in the Fortezza. When taking an exam, always remember to mark up the questions – that’s how they get you.

JUNO: Where are you?

PROCTOR: I’m afraid that is the sole question on your exam, Mr. Steel. Question one: where is the genius murderer? (LAUGHS) On the windowsill in front of you lies a long-range laser rifle. Enough to kill me, certainly… if you can find me. (CACKLING)

MICK: A rifle? So do you think… she’s somewhere down there, Jay?

JUNO: Maybe, yeah, she’s got to be.

SOUND: MECHANICAL CLICKS.

But… the rifle doesn’t have a stun setting! I can’t kill random people in the crowd!

MICK: You’ll get it, Jay. I know you’ll get it! You’re a sharpshooter! The sharpest there is!

JUNO: Mick…!

MICK: So you better watch yourself, Proctor! He’s the best sniper in this city! They call him One Eyeball Steel!

JUNO: Mick, nobody calls me that—

MICK: One-Ball Steel, then!

JUNO: Nope, nope, went the wrong way on that one.

PROCTOR: Only three minutes left, Mr. Steel. Your answer, please. (LAUGHS) All the best tests instruct just as much as they measure, you know. I wonder what you’ve learned from this one?

JUNO (NARRATOR): That was a good question. In fact, it might’ve been the first good question the Proctor had asked all day.

So what had I learned from this test? The Proctor was working with someone, that was for sure. Even a genius couldn’t manage to smuggle in all of those weapons and mannequins without some serious help. I’d learned that she had confidence issues, too – that whoever had hired her had probably pulled on that, told her that she’d never be able to pull off what she did twenty years ago. Which meant whatever the answer was to this exam, it had to be perfect. It had to be flawless.

JUNO: …Flawless.

PROCTOR: And don’t I know it.

JUNO: It’s got to be flawless. That means the diorama down there has to be completely accurate!

MICK: But you told me the diorama said the laser must have come through this window.

JUNO: Straight from here to the podium, Mercury – but it never said which direction.

MICK: She’s hiding inside the podium?!

PROCTOR: Time’s up, Mr. Steel. You have five seconds to answer.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was no time, and another problem to deal with: in order to shoot a laser from here to the Proctor, I’d have to send it through Ramses O’Flaherty’s head. So I fired a shot to break the window—

SOUND: GUNSHOT. SHATTERING GLASS.

—and I gave the best warning I could.

SOUND: RAIN.

JUNO: (CALLING) Ramses! Duck!

JUNO (NARRATOR): And either it was my first stroke of luck for the day or the old man had a hell of a reaction time, because he was down on the ground before I was finished shouting his name.

THEIA: Target locked.

SOUND: GUNSHOT.

PROCTOR: (GASPS)

MICK: Did it work? Did it work??

SOUND: DISTANT SCREAMS. STATIC CRACKLING.

JUNO: I… guess so.

PROCTOR: (COUGHING) Very well done, Mr. Steel. Perhaps I… finally did meet my intellectual match.

JUNO: Alright, at the start of this whole mess you said you’d tell me who you’re working for if I passed all your tests. Well, I passed ‘em; start talking.

PROCTOR: I suppose I must… I haven’t much time left…

You want to know who hired me to kill Ramses O’Flaherty? It was his worst enemy, of course.

JUNO: Oh, come on! No more tests, no more riddles. I won.

PROCTOR: Education… is its own reward. Now, here's your final question.

(COUGHS) In order to find Ramses’s enemy, you must go home again.

JUNO: Home?! How the hell do you know where I live?

PROCTOR: A frozen place, this home… a land the past, of heroes, of justice… a place further than the inky blackness of space, yet as close as the heart of every child… Home, Mr. Steel. You’ll find Ramses’s enemy, if you just go home.

JUNO: Damn it, stop babbling and give me a straight answer!

PROCTOR: You’ll never solve this. I can hear it in your voice! You’ve lost! I’ve won!

JUNO: Don’t die on me! I’m talking to you!

PROCTOR: I’m the smartest! I’ve beaten you! I could beat… anybody… (PANTING)

SOUND: STATIC FADES.

***

JUNO (NARRATOR): Ramses barked a few orders and the cops were off with their tails between their legs looking for a way to get us down through the Fortezza window. In the meantime, Mick and I celebrated. As well as you can celebrate in the dusty old attic of the person you just killed, anyway.

SOUND: HEAVY RAIN.

MICK: So… we made it! That’s somethin’, right?

JUNO: Sure, Mick. It’s really somethin’.

MICK: Got a little hairy there for a few minutes, but I always knew we’d make it through! Or, at least, I often thought we would. Sometimes, suspected. (CHUCKLES)

Hey… what do you think that riddle she said at the end meant? It sounded pretty tricky to me.

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. But, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t really want to think about the Proctor right now.

MICK: I get it, I get it.

I-I just don’t understand, Jay. She was so smart. She made all those crazy traps and stuff while she was locked in a prison cell. And even if she did have help, she had to build all that so quickly, and so secretly… she must’ve been one of the smartest people on Mars.

So, why’d she have to prove that she was smart all the time? Why’d she have to kill people to do it?

JUNO: I don’t know, Mick. Why’s anybody hurt anybody?

MICK: I guess so. …I’m sorry.

JUNO: For what?

MICK: I don’t know. I just felt like one of us had to apologize, and you weren’t gonna do it.

JUNO: Yeah, that makes sense.

But look… Mick, maybe I should apologize. I gave you a lot of crap about your stupid danger theory, but… you were right. We made it out. Again.

(SIGHS) I wish you’d do something else, but who the hell knows? Maybe you’re onto something.

MICK: Wait, seriously? What are you, stupid?

JUNO: What?

MICK: Taking this job was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, Jay! I didn’t make it out ‘cause I’m lucky, or I’m good at dealing with danger. I made it out ‘cause you bailed me out. I’d be chalk dust without you!

JUNO: That’s… probably true.

And surprisingly responsible.

MICK: I don’t know why nothing ever works out for me, but you were right. I don’t think getting in danger all the time’s the answer either.

Maybe it doesn’t really matter anymore. I mean… I’m just gonna make myself miserable if I’m always trying to be the guy I used to be. So I guess the hard part… the hard part is, figuring out who the hell I am now? …Does that sound right?

JUNO: You could always just stay so busy that you don’t have time to think about it. That’s usually what I do.

But, for what it’s worth, Mercury, I think when you finally figure out who you are… you’re gonna make an impact.

MICK: Aw, Jay, that’s the nicest—

JUNO: Only question is whether the impact is the galactic-peace kind or the gigantic-smoking-crater kind. Could really go either way.

MICK: …Oh. That still might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.

JUNO: You’re welcome.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The cops got us down a few minutes later. I told Mick to go home and then waited on the edge of the crowd while Ramses talked down the reporters.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the Proctor. About the sound she’d made on her last breath. It wasn’t that I thought I shouldn’tve killed her; I-I was… just a little shaken, I guess.

Because, if real evil exists, then the Proctor – a woman who killed twenty people without remorse – was it. But that means sometimes evil is just someone trying to prove to the world that they’re worth something. Or just prove it to themselves, maybe.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

RAMSES: Juno. You cut it a little close at the end there, but over all… nice work. Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.

JUNO: Home…

This isn’t over yet, Ramses.

RAMSES: Hmm?

JUNO: The Proctor said she’d been hired by someone to kill you. Your worst enemy, she said, and whoever they are, I don’t think they’re gonna let up.

RAMSES: Did she, now. Well. I suppose that’s what I have you for.

JUNO: Ramses, I don’t know—

RAMSES: What else did the Proctor say to you?

JUNO: It was some kind of riddle, I guess, I– couldn’t make any sense of it. Something about going home, a place of heroes, as distant as the stars and close as kids’ hearts…?

RAMSES: (CHUCKLING, THEN FULL-ON HOWLING WITH LAUGHTER)

MUSIC: STARTS.

JUNO: What? …What’s so funny?

RAMSES: An interesting place to strike. I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of it sooner.

JUNO: You know the answer to the riddle?

RAMSES: I do, in fact.

SOUND: CAR PULLS UP.

My limo will bring you home. On second thought, I don’t think I’ll be coming with you. I have some calls to make.

JUNO: But Ramses—

RAMSES: Tomorrow morning, I think… no, no, I’ll send a car for you again tomorrow night. Rest up until then.

JUNO: Ramses, listen to me, damn it! Where the hell is she trying to send us? All this stupid stuff about my home?

RAMSES: (CHUCKLES) Oh, Juno. When she said ‘home,’ she didn’t mean yours. She meant mine.

SOUND: KNOCKING.

Bring him home, please.

JUNO: Ramses, you can’t start talking nonsense, too.

RAMSES: All in good time, my friend. Rest up. Tomorrow night… adventure awaits.

SOUND: CAR DOOR SLAMS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I watched him as the car pulled away – Ramses O’Flaherty, who hadn’t even existed thirty years ago, who had a good shot at being the next mayor of Hyperion City. Ramses O’Flaherty: the man who was all future and no past.

There was something appealing about that, I’ll admit. The thought that you could just shed your old self like an old skin and become someone new. Someone important. Someone like Ramses O’Flaherty.

So turn your back on the past, Steel. Tie yourself to the man of the future… and hope that what’s ahead is better than what you left behind.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you've enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you will receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from Noah Simes, co-creator Kevin Vibert, and actors ALlison Choat and Stefano Perti:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

NOAH: …I mean I think this is a testament both Kevin, to your writing of Mick and Stefano, your portrayal of him, but, y’know, I– I certainly can sort of identify with that feeling of like, I haven’t done… enough, or I haven’t done what I’m supposed to do—

STEFANO: Yes. Please don't have let that have been my greatest moment—

NOAH: Right, right, yeah!

STEFANO: —no matter what that moment is.

NOAH: Right, beca– right. You never know what the high peak is gonna be, and you just pray that it…

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Jaimie Gunter, The Princess and the Scrivener, Hannah Tsim, and Elizabeth Miller for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Lesson Learned, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Matthew Zahnzinger as Ramses O’Flaherty, AlLison Choat as the Proctor, and Stefano Perti as Mick Mercury.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I'm afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

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electronicdelusionstarlight · 5 years

Text

Speaking of Lupin the 3rd, I have this, like, Manga laying around somewhere with him in it that my mother bought me when i was younger and that was, like... quite weird, even by Lupin Standards.

Going from memory here so bear with me.

Alright, so, the story starts with Lupin being retired or some shit. Because for this, Zenigata is deploying is fucking superb skills as a Interpol investigator by tracking down and leading a raid on a Nazi war criminal who had escaped after the end of the war and become a rich and corrupt bastard (I'm 99% sure he was a arm dealer), which, you know, it's pretty cool to see Zenigata in such a positive and competent light, but going on...

We get back to Lupin, who is living with Gigen with no job for months somewhere in I think England. He is in a clear disheveled state, and has been researching on a book he stole from the Nazi war criminal from the start (which is what tipped Zenigata off).

The book narrates the story of a old Jewish man finding a magical tree in the woods and using its wood to make a Violin, later playing said instrument to spring a wood man to life from the roots of the fallen tree. Except the wooden men really liked to fuck women and the women REALLY liked to fuck the Wooden Man so the local inquisitor tried to burn the man and the wooden man at the stake but it doesn't work since apparently the wooden man is indestructible, but then the magical violin gets damaged and the wooden man also gets damaged, so the old man escapes and decides to separate the violin in 4 parts (Box, arch, the thing that has the strings, strings and those little things used for accordion) and made 4 different magical violins with them, hiding them all around the world, so that the wooden man could never be hurt again and keep fucking as many women as he liked.

So on it's all pretty standard. Lupin of course wants to find the violins and ropes the gang into it, as the Nazi war criminal is released due to his ties to people in high places, and uses his connections to first force Zenigata into a forced leave from work, and then to have him beaten up in the streets.

Meanwhile, the Descendant of Sherlock Holmes, a young violinist and failed detective, lives above a pub owned by the Descendant of Watson, who keeps making weird gadgets and toys that never really work for long. She has gifted him the violin of her ancestor, and he has it exposed in his pub as a memorabilia. Lupin goes there and tries to steal it, but she fortuitously catches him, and so she ropes him into joining his caper, giving him her violin, that sharpens the mind of those who play it... but only if they play it, having it nearby would only give limited improvements via osmosis, in exchange with the possibility to later be the woman that arrested Lupin.

Some other mad capers happen, they go to a penniless artist whose violin can induce a trance state to the listeners, then go steal Paganini's violin that makes any women that ear it orgasm on command (I wish I was fucking joking), and then go to win the fourth violin at a contest held by the Descendant of a old art merchant who I'm 99% sure was supposed to be Dorian Gray due to all the symbolism of him being juxtaposed to the portrait of his old and derelict ancestor, who despite that looked a lot like him, and that apparently his violin special power was granting the musician prolonged, inhuman longevity.

As all of this happens, the superhuman bodyguard of the Nazi war criminal is tailing them on, a literal terminator (as in, opens a airplane door with his bare hands mid flight and jumps out, activating rocket feet or some shit), he manages to find them when they have caught all the violins...

Except the dude was working against the Nazi war criminal all along, and was the one who actually sold him out to the Interpol as revenge, a revenge long ages as not only he was ACTUALLY a survivor of I can't remember what related to the Nazi war criminal war crimes, but apparently he was also supposed to be a Golem all along... Except psyche, he's actually a Android...

Except Psyche, he was the Woden Man all along, using his talent for mechanic work (each violin represented one of his better qualities apparently... I guess the wooden man really knew how to satisfy a woman then) to create himself a power armor to infiltrate the Nazi war criminal ranks, who was apparently the last descendant of the inquisitor from the book, and have him frilly arrested when Zenigata, who is nothing if not a stubborn bastard, does actually bring down the wrath of the Interpol on him with added evidence given to him by the wooden man.

Who, by the way, was supposed to be Pinocchio all along.

Basically, in the Lupin the 3rd universe? Pinocchio fucks.

He later asks Lupin to burn the violins so he can finally did In peace, because it's been centuries and he's getting tired, so Lupin burns the magical Violins and the wooden man returns a tree stump, as everyone cries and his human exoskeleton lies forgotten nearby, on which the dying Wooden man comments on with a call back to the original book of "How funny looking I was back when I was a puppet." (Sounds better in Italian).

Sherlock Holmes' descendant then lets Lupin go, because she has decided to leave detective work for good and become a professional violinist, as the others get back to their lives as international thieves and shit.

Like... That's it, that's the story, maybe forgot some minor detail or something, but still, I can't be the one that finds this whole thing insanely weird.

#lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #lupin #zenigata #eh

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mountphoenixrp · 5 years

Photo

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Inari, the Goddess of Foxes and Rice, whose origins stem from Ancient Japan. She is now the owner of the Black Forest Bakery.

FC NAME/GROUP: Joo Minhee, Stellar GOD NAME: Inari PANTHEON: Japanese OCCUPATION: Owner of Black Forest Bakery HEIGHT: 166 cm WEIGHT: 50kg DEFINING FEATURES: Mole under her left eye, Red fox ears & tail.

PERSONALITY: Never trust a fox, Inari is the reason for that saying due to her mischievous nature who tends to manipulate people to her own reasons. The best times she would recall when she would trick merchants who were ripping off the people of the land and end up losing everything instead by someone mysteriously destroyed their stock. The reasoning for her tricks tends to be for greater good or sometimes just for food. Inari loves life to the fullest, she eats, drinks, dances and loves passionately without no regrets yet she tends to protect her heart from falling in love with anyone. Every time, she opens her heart to someone either they end up leaving or dying on them so it would be best for everyone cause heartbroken fox is beyond ruthless and far from caring. Inari is smart and confident, she generally kind, friendly and sometimes over friendly with everyone she meets.

She is considered to be flirtatious and manipulative towards other, while often mocking other people thinking and negotiating skills as no can trick someone like she can and the world is filled with idiots especially mortals. Inari isn’t afraid to speak her mind on what she thinks of the person in front of them, she doesn’t hold back. Honesty is the best policy, she only lies if it is part of a scheme against people doesn’t like. She is usually good-humored and talkative, the fox goddess is trying to be ‘sober’ but is known to be a massive alcoholic. Drunk Inari just makes her loud, naked as in the words of drunk Inari ‘I’m animal, animals don’t wear clothes~’ with her fox ears and tail thrashing about too. Clearly, she is glutton who always eating food yet due to her pride and likes to keep herself looking amazing, she does work out a lot just to burn off the amount of food she eats. Despite acting all-knowing, there are some things in this world she doesn’t comprehend like modern technology and rather not use a strange box thing, in human terms a mobile phone. She doesn’t understand modern day slang either, she’s god after all.

Why would have to lower herself to their standards?

HISTORY: Inari, the fox god or goddess to some depend on what face the person would meet, throughout the years the stories of the fox god would say how kind and helpful she is. By the 16th century, Inari had become the patron of blacksmiths and the protector of warriors, and worship of Inari spread across Japan in the Edo period. Inari is a popular figure in both Shinto and Buddhist beliefs in Japan. Those times were simpler, the goddess just helps the ones with good hearts then punished the ones with cruel hearts only on her intuition. The story about kitsunes being her messengers, that was only the half truth, she’s the mother of foxes meaning she tends gave birth and raise them on her own using them as the messengers to bring a fortune on the selfless & justice on the heartless. Throughout the years, Inari became exhausted as no matter how many people she ends up punishing, there is always more evil souls appearing to punish and it’s exhausting.

The fox goddess took a vacation tried living as a mortal among the humans enjoying the riches of the food which always adore about this world. The food seems to get tastier and richer, she spent her travels enjoying her time in various places usually in the local bar due to her taste for the finer things. Stories about fox man or lady appearing due to her drunken outbursts then end up getting chased by dogs, she really doesn’t like dogs. Depending on her mood too, sometimes she likes to shapeshift into a man just to appease mortal to get them into the bed but the majority of the time, Inari is proudly the mother of foxes, she enjoys being the lady as it is much more fun in her words. Most of her years, she just enjoying life to the fullest sometimes she ended up settling down with a human being faithful wife or husband until their death. If she does end up having a child, she always watches them from afar protecting them as much she could even leave them at mount phoenix in care of much better gods & goddesses for the job of playing a mother.

Now, at last, Inari has come back to Mount Phoenix she is truly tired of traveling the world and wants to settle down maybe cause little chaos when she’s bored and there are people to punish. The female goddess decides to take over the ownership Black Forest bakery, she’s glutton after all and certainly has sweet tooth plus Inari is trying to be sober for this century as much she loves rice wine especially when is god of it, certainly hard to resist so owning her own bar was out of the question. Looks like Inari is trying to be a responsible fox for once in her life like in the back of the old days yet who knows what she ends up getting back up to.

Will she live out her retire peacefully ??

Or maybe play with some of the naughty boys & girls ??

POWERS: The ability to shape shift into whatever mortal gender she preferred, she tends to stick to female form. The reason why history books refer to her as man and a woman. Inari tends to be very in tune with her senses due to enhanced hearing & sense of smell. She quite nimble very fast due to enhanced agility abilities.

STRENGTHS:

She is able to hear tiny sounds much farther away than humans, or from the other side of solid walls and floors.

Once transformed into a fox, she is much faster so she can catch her prey and use her sharp teeth and claws to ripped enemies from limb from limb.

Partial-transformation is easy for Inari, she can change one hand to paws if she felt like it. The ears and tail tend to always pop out without her own knowing, it is something just part of her.

Like most canines, foxes have an excellent sense of smell and can pick up a particular scent from far distances far greater than humans. This allows Inari to be able to detect dangers however she tend to use this skilled nose to find food-

Inari has lived for many centuries and is not visibly aged past 25 years old (at least in her human form). She credits her wisdom from the experiences her long life has given her. However she is not immortal.

WEAKNESSES:

Excellent hearing can have it’s downfall, her ears super sensitive to loud noises and be deafen by them making them unable to hear anything rendering her completely useless.

Crippling fear of dogs especially hounds, she’s fox after all and due to nearly being killed by hound. Dogs always frighten the poor fox goddess especially big dogs, little dogs aren’t so scary.

She can not transform into a fox every day, Inari needs to take a few days to regenerate as it breaks every bone in her body and it’s extremely painful. She only changes into a fox if she has too. However, her ears and tail tends to be out majority of the time, partial transformation isn’t as painful and do-able majority of the time.

Inari tends have alcoholic problem being god of rice and her love of rice wine. When she’s drunk, she tends to have no control over her abilities causing to smashing things with her large fox tail while tripping over her own feet.

Large bodies of water is one of her fears as the fox over the years still didn’t learn how to swim so the fear of drowning keeps her away from the lakes and oceans as much she possibly can.

#kpop rp #krp #stellar #joo minhee #stellar minhee #mp; welcome

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foxofthedesert · 5 years

Text

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch. 3

Chapter 3 - Motherhood, a Frightening Prospect

Regina awakes to a twitching at her side. Groaning in protest, she shifts slightly, shoulders brushing against the soft, wavy hair tumbling down her bed partner's back. Red is sleeping soundly, facing away yet pressed as close as her body will allow, her back flush to Regina's arm and firm rear nestled against her hip. The soothing contact is further enhanced by the cozy heat radiating from a werewolf whose skin is often akin to a small furnace. Good thing, too, as the room has grown chilly in the absence of a roaring flame, the fire they refueled and stoked before retiring having petered out to dull orange embers.

Yawning so hard her jaw creaks, Regina rubs at her bleary eyes as she sits up slowly, careful not to wake Red, which is not an easy feat seeing as Red's heightened senses are capable of picking up a pin dropped on carpet from down the hallway. Fortunately Regina has a lot of practice at this, so with smooth movements that barely jostle the mattress, she maneuvers her torso upright and then props herself up by extending her arms out behind her, splayed fingers facing the headboard and palms flat upon the downy mattress. Once firmly anchored, she casts a weary, and wary, glance about the room – an old habit from the Dark Days when she had ample reason to entertain notions that some suicidal assassin might infiltrate her chambers in the night to stick a knife in her throat while she slept. That never happened, of course, but vestiges of the old paranoia remain, only now she is less concerned over her own safety as Red's.

Regina heaves a sigh of relief. Tonight there is not a hint of movement outside of her own within their chambers other than the steady rise and fall of Red's chest as she breathes. The only sound Regina can detect is the faint crackling and popping of the dying fire and a brisk autumn wind scratching and howling at the window panes of the great bay window jutting out of the northrn wall of the castle. With no cause for alarm to be found, she relaxes her study of the intimately familiar environment.

The chambers are still shrouded in shadow, sunrise not due for some hours yet, though she can make out details through the darkness. An antique dresser is pushed against the wall opposite their huge four-post bed, boasting storage enough to accommodate the undergarments, casual and sleepwear, and various sartorial accessories of two women – one of whom owns more clothes than the combined possessions of many modest villages. Upon the surface are an array of boxes containing their personal jewelry, some large and some small, along with an assortment of perfumes and oils, the latter of which are mainly for skincare, though a few are for Regina's hair, which requires more attention than Red's ridiculously perfect mane. Next to the dresser is a vanity, a tall adjustable ovular mirror held atop an oaken desk, padded chair with intricately engraved surfaces pushed beneath. Every night they are able, they brush one another's hair at that vanity, one hundred fluid strokes given while holding the other's eyes in the glass as they talk about the happenings of the day or the plans of tomorrow or their various hobbies and interests outside of ruling a kingdom that is growing nearly beyond the scope of comprehension.

To the left of the vanity and dresser is a long arched corridor leading to the balcony overlooking the eastern courtyard, the same balcony Regina once plummeted over and would have died had she not been 'rescued' by the most incompetent fairy to ever flit across the skies of Misthaven. To the right is the long wall common to the hallway of the Royal Wing, surface lined with paintings, three commissioned by Red and the others by Regina, all of which depict things or people they don't wish to forget. A portrait of Daniel is there amongst them, description of him supplied by Regina's memory, along with an image of Peter as he was remembered by Red. Red's grandmother Is also honored with a spot upon that wall, depicted as seated in a rocking chair, glasses perched low on her nose as she weaves a patchwork blanket. A painting of Perrault, Red's hometown, is also to be found there, portrayed as if viewing the quaint village from a vantage point upon the young, modest mountain range nearby. There is other art in the room as well, lush carpets from halfway across the known world, uniquely decorated drapes crafted from material Mulan called silk, figurines of horses and wolves upon wall mounted shelves, marble statues of Artemis and her fellow Olympians in the alcoves of the arched hallway leading to the balcony, and, of course, the most precious of all, the Crown Jewels – a magnificent collection of opulent golden diadems, tiaras, scepters, and ornate rings to adorn fingers and ears. Unless worn by one of Misthaven's Queens, the Crown Jewels remain on display against the inner wall within glass cases that are protected by defensive wards Regina painstakingly designed to resist virtually all forms of dismantling.

After ensuring her most favorite piece – a diadem called The Midnight Crown – is undisturbed, Regina settles back down in bed. As she heaves a long, tired sigh, Red whines in her sleep, not so much distressed as irritated by Regina having disturbed her, and then scoots even tighter against Regina's side. Honestly if Red were to get any closer, she would be on top of Regina. Not that such an outcome would be unpleasant.

There was a time Red's subconscious need for proximity was bothersome. Over the years spent as Leopold's wife and Snow White's step-mother, Regina developed an acute allergy to physical contact initiated without her consent. She had endured groping fingers and invasive appendages more nights than she cares to recount, and by day the constant, irritating pawing of a child she was forced to care for against her wishes. Upon seizing the crown, her lovers were privately taught through threats and acts of violence alike that she was in control of their trysts, while in public those foolish enough to so much as disturb the fabric of her dress without permission were met with swift reprisal. Many wayward digits were either broken or altogether removed before people learned to keep their grubby hands to themselves. Soon enough, no one dared to so much as breathe in her general direction and that was precisely how she liked it.

Looking back at those days, the polar shift in her tactile response is remarkably dramatic, or at least it is within the confines of the bedroom. Seven years of sleeping next to her beloved werewolf has made her almost as dependent on nocturnal contact as Red is. Those rare nights she has to sleep alone are intolerable. It's hard to get any rest at all when she's tossing and turning endlessly, sporadically reaching for an uncommonly warm body that is painfully absent. The silence of the night becomes increasingly oppressive as she strains to listen for the rhythmic sound of Red's breathing or the cute little noises she makes when she's dreaming. Sleep elixirs are a requirement whenever one of them has to travel, thus necessitating the other to stay behind to run the kingdom, and those provide a few inadequate hours at best. Although the herbal aids are sufficient to keep her functional, waking bleary eyed and run down is an unwelcome reminder of a mode of existence she has mercifully left behind.

Before Red assumed possession over half her bed and all of her heart, she was used to existing on very little sleep. Recurring nightmares plagued her to the point she was afforded only a handful of hours on the best nights and as little as an hour on the worst. By the time Red was sharing her bed on a regular basis, she had long since adapted to functioning on unhealthy portions of rest. But now she does not need to settle for paltry scraps. Red's proximity is a pacifier that quells those old terrors that once kept her awake until the wee hours of the night. She is still plagued by nightmares, as she always will be, but they are blessedly infrequent and far less intense. And while she still does not sleep more than six hours per night, those hours are more regenerative than they have been in over a decade.

Nightmares were not the only reason she once had trouble resting, either. Sharing a bed with Leopold had created a sense of claustrophobia that transformed them into isolation cells designed specifically to physically, emotionally, and psychologically torture her. Back then, crawling in under the covers next to her much older husband was a nightmarish scenario consisting of roiling nausea triggered by a clawing fear running up the length of her spine over whether or not the king would be in the mood that night. At the time, she was powerless to refuse his advances, as it was a privilege of his position to demand use of her body at his convenience. There was nothing in all the world she hated more than the feel of his hands on her flesh or the weight of his heft resting upon her, suffocating her as he destroyed with one grunted thrust at a time what little light she had left in her soul in the wake of Daniel's death. When the torment was over and he rolled off her, passing out soon thereafter, she could do little else besides curl up into a ball to mitigate her trembling. She would then either lay there for hours numbly or cry silently so as to not wake the callous brute back up.

Upon ridding herself of Leopold's loathsome presence, the first order of business was to torch the royal bedchambers, bed included. She watched the room burn from the courtyard below, secure in the knowledge the flames were contained by her magic. It was quite a spectacle. The grand windows had all burst from the heatwave, raining down glass onto the crowd gathered to witness the symbolic event. The purpose behind the act was not merely a method of purging any reminders of her late husband, but of declaring to the entire kingdom that she had no intention of suffering any further mentions of him. The message was clearly written by flame. If the nobility wished to keep their wealth and position, Leopold White's memory and name were to be regarded as he was, forever dead, reduced to ashes that were soon enough swept away and disposed of in the refuse pile behind the stables. A fitting end, she thought, to the possessions of a beast.

Sadly, while her efforts produced immediate results and made her very happy for a week or so, her insomnia continued on unabated. Even years after she procured new furnishings for her bedchambers, she never felt truly at ease sleeping in a bed. Which is why she kept a luxurious chaise lounge handy. Before Red came along and upended her life in the best way possible, she rarely ever slept upon the spacious bed she'd custom commissioned upon assuming the throne, preferring instead the relatively cramped confines of the lounger. There was only room for one upon the narrow but cushioned piece of furniture, which helped alleviate her anxieties at having the weight of another body nearby while she was most vulnerable. Normally whenever she enjoyed a tryst, she would simply force her lover out after she was finished with them, but on the rare occasion she let them remain in her chambers until the morn, she would abandon them in lieu of curling up on her lounger. She didn't want to risk dredging up sickening recollections she was desperately trying to keep buried.

Red changed all of that. With her relentless patience and devotion, she transformed their bed into a refuge, a sanctuary free of past torments that Regina could retreat to when feeling overwrought. There, securely wrapped in strong arms and her high-strung demeanor disarmed by an easy smile, consolation could be found whenever she was distraught and rejuvenating rest when she was so weary she could barely hold her head upright.

Red has always been hyper-aware of her state of mind. One of the many benefits of being a werewolf is possessing an innate, unique insight into human behavior. For instance, she can smell subtle changes in pheromones and detect the slightest irregularities in breathing or the most minute shift in the rate of a person's heartbeat that indicate the onset of rage or joy or arousal. Those supernatural senses make her the best bodyguard – and lover – Regina has ever known. At least a dozen times now Red has intervened to prevent violence that would have claimed multiple lives; five of those instances one of the lives might have been Regina's. It is equal measures comforting and unnerving that she no longer needs to utter a single syllable for Red to suss out her mood. And although that unnatural perceptiveness is occasionally irritating, mostly she is grateful that her capriciousness hasn't driven Red away.

The value of having someone who knows and understands her so intimately without being disgusted by the darkness festering in the depths of her soul is immeasurable. Rather than exploit the knowledge, Red wields her insight with all the skill of a surgeon and the tenderness of an angel. Whenever Regina is feeling unworthy, Red is there to offer earnest affirmation; when dispirited or depressed, Red pours out endless waves of affectionate encouragement; and when Regina gets so angry she can barely make sense of her own thoughts, Red's calm assurance never fails to eventually soothe the rampaging beast. The love of a simple peasant girl has elevated the marriage bed from something that once was a hideous dungeon into a beautiful sanctuary.

What Red has managed to do, and without really trying, is nothing short of miraculous. Having sanctified what was once desecrated and redeemed what was formerly condemned, she has transformed the defiled place into a haven of peace in the midst of the worst storms life can throw at them. Now that Regina has acclimated to this blessed refuge, she can not imagine inhabiting it alone. She needs Red's supernatural strength, feminine softness and familiar warmth next to her with a fervency that should be, and sometimes is, frightening.

Inhaling deeply to take in the sweet, earthy scent of her wife, Regina basks in her good fortune. It's on mornings like this that she opens herself up to the potential existence of deities. Her father is to this day a devout practitioner of the monotheistic religion of his country, but her mother had only believed in what the senses could interpret and the mind could comprehend. To Cora, magic was a natural element simpletons could not fathom and was therefore no proof of any higher order to the universe. By carrot and by stick, she drilled that skepticism into her daughter.

Regina did not think to question her mother's wisdom until she met Daniel and was introduced to the concept of love. How could anything so potent as to overwhelm the human heart and soul originate by natural means? The drive for procreation could explain physical attraction and the compulsion to provide stability for any offspring was surely responsible for emotional bonding. But when her lips touched his the first time, she knew the forces at work in her heart and soul were beyond what any textbook or learned scholar of a groundbreaking branch of science could rationally explain away as the mere product of brain chemistry. In that very instant she realized it was True Love and no one could have convinced her otherwise.

True Love is a power no ancient wizard or vaunted intellectual has ever been able to adequately explain. The origins of that mystical energy are as mysterious as those of magic itself. There is no other force known to man that can break any curse, instill a faith and hope that cannot be extinguished, and which can inextricably link two people via tethers time or distance can never sunder. So many have tried to study it, to bottle it, to break it down and scrutinize it's inner workings, only to fail miserably at every attempt. With the recent advent of telescopes by astronomers across the sea, the secrets of the cosmos are slowly but surely being unfolded. Medical advances have provided detailed schematics of the human body. Those in more advanced worlds, it is purported, are even beginning to understand the mechanics of the infinitesimally small substrate that exists beneath the surface of the material world limited human senses can perceive. And yet True Love remains stubbornly esoteric to science and incomprehensible to men.

In her youth, Daniel persuaded her this was proof that there is more to reality than what can be explained in a billion years of intensive study. Something greater, he had passionately argued, thrives beyond this plane, something that possesses consciousness, intelligence, and willpower to affect change wherever it sees fit. He called this entity – or entities – the gods according to the traditions of his ancestors. And while she was unwilling to project her own definitions upon this force, her doubts of its existence were daily fading into obscurity. One stolen kiss at a time, she was starting to believe in a higher power.

Daniel's death all but crushed that brief flicker of revelation. Her mother succeeded where the Pantheon failed in preventing Prometheus from instilling the secrets of the flame within her all-too-human heart. Perhaps that was a secondary motive for her mother's dreadful actions that fateful day in the family stables. Perhaps it was more than just Cora's lust for power and her scheme to gain it vicariously through her daughter that precipitated the cold blooded murder of the most gentle, loving person – aside from Red, of course – that Regina has ever met. She had made the critical mistake of questioning the worldview she had been painstakingly programmed to subscribe to, a worldview that had shaped her mother's every decision for longer than she had been alive, and that could not be permitted to continue for even a second. Whatever the impetus for the deed, it nearly ensured she would never again so blindly place her faith in intangible concepts that only fools followed.

Only she hadn't counted on a leggy brunette with a heart even bigger than her smile to revive those old questions. Meeting Red that day on the mountain pass was no coincidence. No certifiable evidence existed to verify that, but she is nonetheless convinced there were forces at play beyond the limited corporeal plane humanity inhabits – forces no mind, however brilliant, could begin to comprehend. Call it fate, destiny, or a god of some irrelevant designation, something inspired her to listen to her heart for once and pursue Red every bit as much as it guided Red to leave Snow's side and consequently save the life of an undeserving tyrant. It sure as hell wasn't any rational thinking on her part that propelled her feet down that narrow pass, risking her death for another glimpse of the creature who, through only a brief exchange, arrested the fullest extent of her interest. The internally memorialized evidence compiled over years that have since rolled by did nothing to alter that view. If anything, she is more convinced than ever that her mother was wrong. About everything.

Red is here with her because she is meant to be. While their love unquestionably involves an element of choice in that both of them could have walked away from the pull being exerted upon their hearts that day on the mountain, it was also predestined, written in the stars, spoken by the bones, and read in the tea leaves that they should meet and be given the opportunity to choose correctly. By whom or what the encounter was arranged is of no consequence in the grand scheme of things. All she cares about is the exceedingly precious gift so undeservedly bestowed upon her, a gift she has no intention of ever taking for granted. To do so, she is sure, would evoke a wrath she would have rightly earned.

Few ever experience such a love once in a lifetime, not to mention twice. And that the second is even greater than the first puts her in rarified air belonging to the grandest of legends and mythologies. If she squanders this heaven on earth that is Red's love, there will be no escaping the fiery judgment that will greet her in the afterlife. This degree of happiness is not meant for mortals, yet she is bathed in it each and every morning. Sometimes she is unable to breathe for how unspeakably grateful she is. Grace has, in the form of one slumbering angel, provided her deepest craving out of life, and there is no power in all of creation can take it away from her without a fight.

Overwhelmed by an onrush of adoration, she softly winds a fingertip down the muscled plane of a gently curved back. Her contentment intensifies into a silly smile when her touch produces a tiny whine of protest from Red, who then flips over to her other side. Now facing Regina, the junior Queen of Misthaven breathes a deep sigh. As she does, her nose scrunches up adorably and she snuggles her head deeper into the pillow. Long, dark lashes flutter briefly only to grow still once more.

Reaching out with as little movement as possible, Regina tenderly tucks a strand of silky brown hair behind Red's ear. "I love you," she whispers. "More than I you'll ever know. More than I can ever express in words. Every moment with you is blessing my heart can hardly contain. I wish an effective method existed to properly translate how much you mean to me so that I could tell you how I truly feel. I suppose I'll just have to take it on faith that you know, and hope the way you love me is evidence you understand because you feel the same way."

That Red cannot hear any of this does not matter when there is a burning need to say the words. Her love for this incredible woman is the one defining thing more pertinent to her being than her own selfish desires, and with the darkness of the night to shroud her, she feels a freedom to express herself that she wishes could extend in the light. Decorum and a need to appear indestructible in public prevent her from addressing Red the way she wishes she could. When unwelcome eyes are watching, it is often more than she can bear to be so close to her wife yet unable to touch her or hold her or simply say those three little words for no other reason than to receive one of those glorious smiles no one else can replicate. It is only here in the safety and seclusion of their bedroom that she can indulge her every affectionate whim, and she does so whenever the compulsion hits.

It hasn't always been that way. There was a time she valued her revenge more than love. She used to spend all of her time plotting to kill Snow White, the source of her every torment. It was Snow who caused Daniel's death, which in turn lead to her being married off to an elder king at the tender age of seventeen. It was Snow who spent her days yammering on about how glad she was her hero became her new mother while Regina gritted her teeth against the urge to scream. Each night, she chewed the inside of her lips until they bled to block out the anguish of being mounted by an old man she despised. Snow's betrayal had cost her everything, and after Leopold's death, her every waking moment was a lucid fantasy revolving around the day Snow would turn eighteen, after which the wretched brat would become fair game.

The day after the Princess's eighteenth birthday bash, not a single moment was wasted before setting in motion a plot she spent months contriving. Through a series of clever payoffs, she manufactured a paper trail that made it appear as if Snow was responsible for hiring out assassins to dispose of her stepmother. That was all the leverage required to banish the Princess from the kingdom and forever stake a claim to the throne. In remembrance of the sweet young girl she had once saved from a runaway horse, Snow was afforded three months to adapt to her new way of life before the proverbial hunting horns were sounded – and sound they did.

The hunt climaxed two years later on a cold, bitter day after the latest in an endless string of attempts at apprehending Snow was thwarted by the stunning werewolf who kept company with the fugitive princess. The rest, as they say, is history. A week later, Red showed up to dinner, and then again the next week, and the week after that. Pretty soon, Red was spending days at a time at the Dark Palace. Within six months, she was practically living there. Being that Snow had found her True Love and with the bounty on her head suspended, Red was no longer needed to protect her dearest friend on a daily basis. Regina was glad of it. Having come to prize her time with Red above all else, she loathed their partings whenever Red would venture back to Snow's side.

Three months later still, the inevitable happened when they fell into bed. It honestly astounded her that she lasted so long without claiming her criminally enticing prize when there were days it took all of her considerable willpower to resist temptation. The war to resist those annoyingly persistent urges to rip Red's clothes from her body and ravish her against the nearest solid surface was one she was unaccustomed to waging.

Upon becoming Queen, practicing patience in sexual matters was no longer required. If she saw someone she wanted who seemed equally interested, she merely had a trusted knight discreetly escort that individual up to her chambers. Once the door was shut, nature took it's course with no strings attached. This method of scratching a very pleasant biological itch was an ideal solution for a woman who believed herself to be cured of interest in romantic entanglements.

With Red, though, she found herself longing for companionship that extended beyond a torrid affair or quick tryst. Although her desire to know Red in a carnal sense was maddening at times, she was too afraid to take that step knowing it would irreparably alter their emerging dynamic. She worried that, as with Daniel, they would inevitably to be torn apart. In the process of time, she would drive Red away by simply virtue of attrition, meaning her selfish, cruel, vindictive nature would eventually erode Red's unwarranted affection into bitter loathing. Or worse, the unthinkable would happen to Red and it would be like losing Daniel all over again. She didn't think she could handle either scenario, so she tried her damnedest to maintain the status quo.

The great upheaval finally came one day in the early months of autumn. Regina can clearly remember dragging into her chambers, exhausted from a long day of court-related tedium. Upon arriving she'd found the door already open with Red waiting inside. Perched upon the seat below the bay window, she was completely engrossed in a thick tome containing an assortment of Eastern literature. She hadn't heard Regina approach, and as she read intently, so peaceful and still, it seemed as if she was posing for a portrait. The evening sunlight filtering into the room cast her in a faint orange glow as it played across her features and filtered through strands of rich brown hair left hanging down from a hastily applied leather tie. The sight was so breathtaking that Regina would eventually commission a likeness to be preserved by the royal artist that hung in her study to this day. Red had not enjoyed having to recreate and then maintain the position long enough that it could be translated to canvas for posterity.

Anyway, despite having adjusted to constant exposure to Red's beauty, Regina was nonetheless so awestruck that she gasped aloud, finally catching Red's attention. When Red lifted her nose out of her book, her entire countenance lit up at the sight of Regina standing in the doorway, as if she had become the sole source of her every joy. It was at that very moment acceptance of the hard truth arrived. Their current arrangement was no longer sufficient. They had waited long enough to consummate their undeniable feelings. That evening, they made love for the first time as the last rays of the sun set over the horizon, and they did not sleep until the moon had risen high in the night sky. That terrifying yet exhilarating step from a deep and meaningful friendship into sexual intimacy precipitated a fall from which she has yet to recover.

Never one to let the grass grow beneath her feet, she wasted no time thereafter claiming Red as her own. Privately she marked her new lover in ways that made Red blush for days while publicly declaring to the kingdom that Red now belonged to her and was therefore to be treated with the utmost respect properly due to the Queen's official companion. Not that it did any good insisting Red be shown respect when she was just as soon to be found roughhousing with the soldiers on their training days or milling among the peasants in the village below the Palace as to be about the castle carousing with nobles whilst adorned in the opulent and incredibly expensive dresses she was provided. The people adored Red unconditionally, accepted her as their own, and approached her without fear because they knew she was one of them. That she had risked her life on a daily basis to protect their not-so-secretly beloved Snow White only endeared her all the more to them.

In a turn of events that Regina hadn't predicted, Red became a bridge over the gaping chasm between the Crown and its subjects. As she would soon discover, Red's mere presence among them served as proof that their Queen was moving past her vendetta, that she was not just the maddened tyrant they had once rightly believed her to be.

This was proven one day when she ventured out of the castle in disguise.

_RQ_

Arrayed in the rags of a peasant, much as she had posing as Wilma to gain insight into Snow White, Regina was a woman on a mission. Red's daily excursions to the village below the palace were no secret, nor were her motives, which were obvious to anyone with a brain. What she could not figure out was the reason behind her lover frequenting the village bakery in particular.

The subterfuge, she felt, was necessary due to what she thought was a justifiable suspicion. Red was spending so much time in the bakery of late that paranoia over potential betrayal was creeping in. That the baker and his wife had two highly attractive and eligible children did not help matters in the slightest. Their son was only two winters older than Red's twenty-two, was stout of build with sandy blonde hair and possessed a relentless kindness that no doubt made him a kindred spirit. The couple also had an overly friendly daughter Red's age with bouncing blonde curls and large almond-shaped blue eyes the exact shade of a summer sky. How could there not be an attraction to at least one of them?

With that in mind, Regina glamored herself into peasants garb and slightly distorted her features to avoid detection. As when Rumple transformed her into Wilma, she proceeded to slip past her guards while they thought she was using the facilities. It wasn't much trouble traversing the palace, the courtyard, and the outer citadel without being detected. Servants often were invisible to those with the authority to detain them. So effective was her disguise that she made it to the bakery without attracting even a single second glance.

When she arrived, the baker's wife – a middle aged woman she could tell was once every bit as beautiful as her daughter – was standing out front speaking to a friend. Seeing an opportunity to glean some intelligence into the target family, she maneuvered around to the side of the building to eavesdrop.

"Why do you let that...that gold digging strumpet hang around so much?" the friend asked, clearly referring to Red in a derisive tone that implied other less savory aspersions. The slight upon her lover, however inferred, had Regina gritting her teeth against an urge to anonymously out the woman as a dissident to the nearest guard.

"If you'll recall, I'm not from around these parts," the baker's wife explained to her friend. "I knew Red's grandmother long before she was a twinkle in her mother's eye, but in the time she's been here, I've come to know her personally as well."

Hearing that embarrassed Regina. She had jumped to unfounded conclusions when Red had just been seeking a connection with someone who was once close with her grandmother. Even so, she continued to listen, spellbound by the ensuing conversation.

"That 'gold digging strumpet,'" the baker's wife continued, "is the sweetest thing I've ever met aside from my own babies. And that's sayin' somethin'."

"Makes you question what she's doin' with the Queen, don't it?" the friend then asked, contempt for Regina on open display with the familiar company. Regina had bristled silently but continued to hold her tongue in pursuit of her objective. "I wonder how she can stand to sleep next to a monster every night."

"It's because her heart is as tender as Princess Snow's," the baker's wife replied without hesitation. "That tells me all I need to know. If Red can love the Queen, then we've been wrong about her all along. Because I'll tell ya, she couldn't love someone who isn't worth lovin'. There is good in the Queen, we've just been too blind to see it."

The words had shaken Regina down to her foundations, not only because it seemed her subjects were beginning to perceive her differently. It was jarring to hear someone other than Red so boldly declare that Red could not love her if she was not worth loving. Regina realized that day how much she'd started to change, that she was remarkably less austere of late, more patient in general and increasingly equitable in her judgments. Without the pursuit of Snow being her primary mission and with Red's unwavering love and support rounding some of her razor sharp edges, she'd begun to invest herself more in ensuring she had a healthy, functioning kingdom.

The exchange that followed only served as further confirmation.

"But what about all the evil she did?" the friend had countered, verbalizing Regina's own negative inclination. She'd never really cared what the people thought of her, but at that moment she discovered that it mattered anyway. She had been a terrible ruler, had treated her subjects reprehensibly, without even realizing it, had become exactly what her mother wanted her to be. It was a wake up call, to say the least. "She slaughtered entire villages," the critical friend continued with a vehemence that bespoke personal investment, "and hunted the princess down like a dog for no good reason. How many people has she killed since she stole the crown from King Leopold? Dozens? Hundreds? More? She's called the Evil Queen for a reason, ya know."

Pressing her back into the wall she was tucked against, Regina felt white hot shame creeping up on her, inflaming her cheeks and turning her stomach until she felt sick. It took all of her hard learned restraint not to bolt from the uncomfortable discussion, but she'd been glued to the spot, unable to move as her eyes and ears were finally being opened to the truth she'd so long repressed. Snow was not the criminal; she was. In her lust for revenge, her sanity had slipped away from her like sand from a sieve and she had abandoned what once was an ironclad conscience. Without those preventative factors, the darkness her mother instilled in her took over, influencing her every thought and deed as she committed one atrocity after another. Now that a modicum of sense was coming back to her, she was revolted.

Suddenly she'd wondered what the hell Red was doing with her. What had Red seen in her worth loving when she could see so little in herself? How, she wondered as tears pooled in her eyes, was she ever going to learn to live with what she'd done without being crushed by the enormous pressures of a guilt she was unprepared to deal with? At the time, it had seemed an insurmountable obstacle to reconcile herself to what she had become in the name of a vengeance Daniel would have abhorred.

"No doubt the Queen was a wicked woman," the baker's wife then replied, and hearing it from so fair a woman's mouth was like a vicious slap to an already raw cheek. "But haven't you seen how different she is since Red came 'round? For a long time, I was ignorant of it, too, but then I tried a bit harder, if only for Red's sake, to see what made her love the woman. Know what I found?"

"What's that?"

"I saw someone who is capable and strong," the baker's wife then elaborated. "She's truly becoming a good ruler. Is she severe in judgment? Yes, but not how she used to be. Used to she'd have someone flogged for burning an apple pie, but not anymore. She's much more fair now, more willing to be persuaded for clemency. And she's always been shrewd with finances, but she's started giving back to the people that need it most.

"Don't get me wrong, I hated the cruel, vindictive witch that stole the throne just as much as you did, but I think that woman is slowly disappearing. I don't even think that woman was really her. I have become convinced, like Red has told me so many times, that what we're seeing now is the real person that just got buried under huge mountains of hatred and anger, a person Red saw and loved before anyone else. We have a lot to thank that girl for...the kingdom has a lot to thank her for. So as far as I'm concerned, she has a place here any time she wishes, and that's that!"

_RQ_

Not needing to hear any more, Regina can remember rushing away far enough to magic herself into her chambers. Alone at last, she sequestered herself for the rest of that day to contemplate what she'd heard. It was late when Red got back, and by the time she had begun to process what she had learned and found to her amazement that she was not totally repulsed by it. The baker's wife had been right. Red was helping her to change organically. Without her hardly being aware, she was slowly rediscovering the idealistic young lady who once fell in love with a stable boy and without thought for her own safety rode to the rescue of a princess in distress.

In further analyzing the subtle transformation she was undergoing, she realized those words she'd spoken to Red on the mountain weren't empty platitudes meant to entice a gullible girl into tangled web. She really was tired of fighting for something that could never make her happy, and she was sick of being a prisoner of her mother's persistent, insidious influence.

Daddy had been right all along. So long as she continued to react the way her mother taught her to, she would never stop being that scared little girl who had trembled before her imperious and heartless mother, begging not to be punished for the slightest infraction. In a stark moment of clarity, she realized she didn't want to be a scared little girl anymore. Through every encouragement, every smile, every kiss, every touch, Red was reminding her of who she used to be: a young woman who refused to allow her totalitarian mother to dictate her life, whose heart was full of love, and whose convictions were set in stone. And though she could never fully reclaim her former innocence, she was actually learning to accept the person was becoming, someone who inhabited the gray area between the looming shadow of ever-encroaching darkness and the morning sun so full of promise.

What made reconciliation of this epiphany all the more palatable was that Red never asked her to change. Once, she even plainly declared that she had fallen in love with the Evil Queen with eyes wide open, then went on to reassure her that there were no expectations or strings attached to that affection. Regina was not expected to earn her love by being good. All she ever asked was that Regina be considerate of her feelings on certain subjects and to curb her violence whenever possible while in her company.

Admittedly, at first even that little request was difficult to abide by. She found it exceptionally difficult not to react according to her deeply ingrained programming. To stop and think about her actions and words before going off at the drop of a hat required a reservoir of self-control she hadn't tapped into for so long she was amazed anything remained of it at all. She had always been impulsive, but after Leopold was disposed of, she surrendered any and all restraint, self-imposed or otherwise, that might hold her back from taking whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it.

Nevertheless, she started to make a concerted effort to do better. And she succeeded to some degree. If not everyone was thrilled with her progress, so be it. Red is happy as a lark, and keeping her that way is Regina's primary concern.

"Hey," Red suddenly interrupts her thoughts. Her wife's voice is slurred as she regards her through bleary eyes. "What're you still doin' up? Need ta be sleepin', hon."

"No reason aside from just waking at random," Regina replies. "A lot on my mind, I suppose." She does not mention that it was Red's inability to stay still that initially roused her from a very pleasant slumber. It is nothing new for her to be awakened in the middle of the night by a stray poke from a sharp elbow or a glancing kick from a bare foot. Much like an excitable puppy, Red is in constant motion even when she sleeps, which Regina finds endearing. Mostly.

Red frowns sympathetically and reaches out to rub Regina's arm comfortingly. "'M sorry."

Regina leans in to give her wife a chaste kiss. "It's not your fault, my love," she then whispers against Red's lips. Drawing back slightly, she caresses a pale cheek. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest. We have a long day ahead of us."

Tomorrow is the appointed monthly date for petitions to be made in court. Usually the cases consist of those unable to be resolved locally due to conflicting or convoluted laws and instances where the parties involved successfully argued with the local magistrate for an appeal directly to the Queen. Very rarely do they have to make life and death judgments, and those they tackle together. Only with both of their consent can a death sentence be rendered, which has happened exactly two times in five years.

Their day is likely to be as boring as it is stressful, but that doesn't mean the decisions they make aren't important. Rest is vital for a clear mind. If only her brain got the message.

Red leans into the touch and then shifts her head to press a responding kiss to Regina's palm. "Only if you do, too."

"I can try but I make no promises of success," Regina concedes. She runs her fingers through the silky hair at Red's temple, tucking it behind her ear. "I'm afraid my mind is awhirl at the moment."

Red's brow furrows worriedly. "You're not stressin' 'bout what I mentioned earlier, are you?" The question is not without basis.

Earlier, Red had informed Regina that their handmaid Iris and her husband were trying to get pregnant. During the course of the short conversation that followed, Red not-so-subtly worked in a hint that she was interested in the idea of expanding their own family in the not too distant future. Despite having frequently thought about that very subject over the years, Regina was unprepared to entertain a discussion about the possibility of bringing a child into their lives. She is still raw from being strong-armed last week into putting a deadline on producing an heir.

The only positive out of being blindsided by the Council is that she's gained an important ally. Lord Maurice is the wealthiest man in the realm by far, and with his merchant days having afforded him connection all over the known world, his vast influence has all but invalidated the novelty of his title.

In the week since the stressful meeting, he has kept her apprised as agreed of the nobles acceptance of her terms. No one was pleased at yet another delay in her decision, but they have thus far all acquiesced, in large part because Lord Maurice convinced them it was in their best interest. Twice she has met privately with the physically imposing but otherwise gentle man, and each time he has reiterated his sympathy with her difficult circumstance. Whether or not his support is for Red's sake or hers is of no consequence when she has it. The lesson of gift horses and mouths is not lost on her.

That said, she remains reluctant to discuss the topic. To avoid getting into another argument with Red about over it, she changed the subject quickly. It did not escape her attention that the hasty deflection hurt the feelings of the most important person in her world. To Red's credit, she hid her reaction well, just not well enough. The pain in her eyes would not have been obvious to anyone else. But Regina was not anyone else. It was her job to read her wife's every mood, to be able to interpret her body language and know what every conceivable emotion looked like in her eyes. As she shifted the discussion to safer waters, the disappointment lacing through those green irises was unmistakable. That she felt like a callous bitch having put it there did not deter her from putting her own emotional fragility ahead of Red's. And that only made her feel worse.

They went to bed last night with a cloud of sadness over them that no amount of flowery language or affectionate petting could dispel. One night suffering Red bravely bearing her discouragement was bad enough. However much she would rather avoid this uncomfortable topic, she cannot allow this heaviness to continue.

Red's moods are infectious when they are in full bloom. Ruling has taught her to mask her emotions quite effectively, but when they are brimming to overflowing, they virtually inundate everyone around her. When she is happy, which thankfully is more often than not, everyone in her proximity is happy, too. In that way, the metaphor her smile lights up a room is actually accurate.

Unfortunately that means the opposite is true as well. Regina has watched both happen in real time, but none were as frightening as an incident three years ago. They were scheduled to attend a party in Baron's mansion not far from the Palace that regrettably fell on the anniversary of Anita's death, only Regina didn't know that because Red hadn't mentioned anything about her mother's demise aside from generalities. Without the full picture, she hadn't been able to figure out why Red was so withdrawn during the carriage ride, and watched in muted horror as the death of all gaiety seemed to follow her morose wife around wherever she went. It was one of those rare occasions where nothing or no one, however interesting, could engage Red. She was totally disassociated and operating as if an emotionless automaton whose strings were being pulled only in the directions she did not want to go. Later on back home, she finally confessed the reason behind her strange behavior.

"I just felt so empty," she had said, hugging herself as if she was freezing and brittle and marred by a thousand spider-webbed cracks. "Like a balloon that had all the air let out. Just elastic and useless. I'm sorry I ruined the party. I really tried to make it go away. It just wouldn't."

Regina kissed her pleas away and held her tight all night long so she wouldn't feel alone. But that valuable lesson was never forgotten. As startling as it was to rows of people simultaneously succumb to gloom prompted her to take extra notice of Red's emotiveness. They never again ventured out into public when she was feeling, as she had described it, empty like a deflated balloon.

There are few individuals she has ever met that are as strong as Red is. With all she's gone through, that that sort of thing doesn't happen continually is testament to her resilience. That said, being denied something she clearly and ardently desires over and over again is sure to eventually push her straight into the poisonous fingers of depression. The last thing they need is a castle full of weepy, dispirited, and demotivated servants.

Besides considerations of Red's state of mind, she also cannot abide allowing her wife to continue to fret over the misconception of having upset her. Not when the truth is she has been wrestling of late with a similar desire to be a mother. The only difference between them is that she is too cowardly to admit it. And for obvious reasons.

For one, she doesn't feel like she deserves to have that kind of pliable medium in her life. She is not so far removed from the Evil Queen that any sane individual would entrust her with a the welfare of an impressionable child. Even more so, she worries about repeating her mother's mistakes. She was not blessed with the best example of motherhood, and while Red's grandmother was a far cry from perfect, she at least loved Red and put Red first at the expense of her own ambitions. To the contrary, everything Cora ever did for her daughter was for her own benefit. To that end, she had groomed Regina to be a selfish and vindictive woman who is disturbingly likely to irreparably corrupt a child's innocence in the same way her mother had hers. The thought is as distasteful as it is terrifying that she might do to someone else what was done to her, thus keeping the cycle of abuse intact.

Frustrated with herself, she heaves a furtive sigh and determines to be honest for once. If not for her own sake then for Red's. "Perhaps I am a bit disconcerted about it," she admits, finding the words difficult to spit out. She feels better, though, once they are out in the open.

"Oh," Red responds, looking crushed, although she rallies quickly by putting on a false smile. "I totally understand. I love our life together, and I'm happy with the way things are. I just thought I'd see how you felt about adding to our family now that some time has passed. But since I know you don't want to, we can just move on. No harm, no foul, okay?" Though she tries to hide it, Regina can tell that Red is about to withdraw and feign going back to sleep so that she can let the tears fall silently without them being seen.

When she begins to shift away to face the wall, Regina stops her immediately with a firm hand on her hip, keeping her in place. "Sweetheart, I am not dismissing the idea outright," she explains, holding Red's eyes. "I just have concerns, mainly related to me and my capability to be a mother. I didn't have the best example, as you well know." And Red most certainly does know. Firsthand at that.

When Cora suddenly reappeared about eighteen months ago along with that backstabbing pirate, Captain Hook, she went about implementing a series of convoluted maneuvers to reintegrate herself in Regina's life. The last attempt involved removing Red from it, which she'd very nearly done by taking Red's heart and then using it to force Regina into compliance. With that much leverage at her disposal, Cora was able to rule the kingdom by undeclared proxy, thus granting Red an up close and personal glimpse into Regina's childhood hell. It was, perhaps, the second worst period of her life.

During that most trying time, she'd had to endure going through the motions of court, deferring every major decision to her mother who insisted on attending each session. Every meal was taken in tense silence, with only her mother's occasional questions and Regina's clipped answers to fill the coldness of the atmosphere. Eyes were on her everywhere she went. When her mother was not present to watch over her, Regina was accompanied by members of her personal guard whose hearts had also been collected by Cora to assure their loyalty.

The nights were the worst, as she'd had to suffer being separated from Red, who was kept confined to the tower of the citadel, for the first time in years. 'It's for your own good,' her mother had told her. Each night following Red's detainment, Cora made a show of visiting the tower after saying good night to her daughter. The unnecessary drama served as a pointed reminder that the slightest failure to be obedient would result in Red's defilement on any number of grotesque and unthinkable levels. Her mother was not above selling access to the most universally desired woman on the continent.

To prevent the worst atrocities imaginable being visited upon Red, Regina kept her rebellions minor. Sadly that did not stop her mother from doling out less perverse punishments upon the woman she saw as the primary factor behind Regina's aberrant lifestyle. Had things gone on much longer, she was certain her mother's nightly visits would have inevitably included graphic descriptions of what activities with Red tonight's customer had purchased. The sole purpose of that most atrocious lesson would have been to enforce Cora's supreme dominance over every aspect of Regina's life, something she could not, would not, allow to happen. Not at Red's expense.

The charade went on for another whole month before she was able to surreptitiously locate her mother's well-hidden heart, which she then used to command the power-hungry witch to relinquish Red's heart. Once that was back in place, Regina ordered Cora to her knees. With the organ in hand whose absence had caused so much suffering throughout her childhood, she'd realized there was no other alternative than to permanently end her mother's machinations. Weeping openly while Red pleaded for her to reconsider, she said her final goodbyes and then crushed the heart to dust right in front of her mother's disbelieving face.

That excruciating tribulation for the most part cured Red of any remaining curiosity about Regina's childhood. The stripes she received at Cora's hand, both physically and magically, served as ample evidence of the horrors Regina was made to endure. Surely, then, she should understand why Regina feels reticent to bring a child into her life, why she feels as if she has been set up for failure. Deep down, she believes Red does understand, and is relieved to be proven correct when her wife's features soften with sympathy.

"I get why you feel that way," Red says sympathetically, "I really do. I just happen to think that your worries are misplaced."

Regina frowns. "I fail to see how. You met my mother."

"Yes, I did, and she was a nasty piece of work. But you are not her." Regina scoffs in objection. "You're not!" Red insists more forcefully. "Are you like her? Yes. But you're not her. That means you have a chance to learn from the mistakes she made with you so you don't repeat them. If the past seven years have taught me anything, it is that you have a good heart beating inside your chest." Regina scoffs a second time at that. "Don't be so dismissive," Red grouses, irritated now on her behalf. "I'm being serious! I think you've always wanted to be a good person, you just lost your way for a while."

"That's an incredibly generous description of events," Regina retorts. If only her enemies could see it that way, she'd have a lot easier go of diplomacy. In her experience, people simply cannot let go of the past...

"Maybe. But it's true." Green eyes swimming with unadulterated love, Red cradles Regina's chin between her thumb and forefinger, keeping their gazes locked. "I see your goodness every day in the way you love me unconditionally. I'm not without my faults, but you've never held them against me. I'm stubborn and reckless and sentimental and emotional, yet you've never asked me to change to suit your preferences. You accept me as I am, and I happen to think that is an indicator you will make a wonderful mother."

Regina nibbles at her lower lip, caught between implicit trust in Red and a woeful lack of it in herself. "I'm glad you think so," she says. "Unfortunately I do not share your unbridled optimism."

Unbidden memories of Snow invade her thoughts. How easy it had been for her to pretend to love her step-daughter like a good mother should! All the while she was consumed by a ravening hatred that made her crave giving the girl a second smile right in front of her bastard of a father. Funny how talk of having a child of her own illuminates how depraved she became where another was concerned. And while Snow certainly bore her fair share of responsibility in Daniel's demise, there was no arguing against her being a minor incapable of comprehending the ramifications of her betrayal.

Ultimately, Regina had chosen to unleash the fury of her devastation on the victim least capable of surviving it, which made her not only a coward but decidedly not the type of person to be responsible for a helpless infant wholly dependent upon her for vital nourishment. How many innocents had she slaughtered in her mad quest to kill Snow White? More than she can reliably account for. Would that effusion of blood stain her child by association? Worse still, how corrupted could that malleable life become were her degenerate nature take control again? In investing herself in extending her line, would she, like her mother before, only wind up raising another monster whose generationally-compounded malevolence surpassed that of it's predecessor? Would the kingdom come to rue the day the Evil Queen spawned a devil worse than her? She just couldn't imagine ever taking the chance of unleashing that much evil upon the unsuspecting world.

Instead of being swayed by her very rational concerns, Red just keeps holding her eyes, that remarkable faith shining all over her features. "In that case I'll just have to keep on reassuring you every single day you until you believe it yourself."

Regina, unsure of whether to kiss the woman for her dedication or shake some sense into her, heaves out a frustrated sigh. "You're not going to let go of this are you?"

"Not a chance." Red releases Regina's chin as she shuffles in close and presses their foreheads together. "I want us to have a baby together," she then says in a breathy whisper full of promise. "Many babies. A castle brimming with babies if I have my druthers."

Regina recoils away with a noise of disbelief, putting a hand's width of space between them. A castle brimming with babies? Adopting an heir will not be so simple. No doubt the nobility will require any potential successor to be of at least minor pedigree, of which there are exceedingly few within the swelled ranks of the kingdom's orphanages. Finding a suitable child will be a delicate task that will entail a measure of luck if any success is to be had. If Red wants many children as she has so stated, biology will have to be involved. And how, exactly, does she expect that to work when there are obstacles, both obvious and secret, that would prevent her from fulfilling her end of the reproductive process?

"You can't be serious." Red says nothing but her eyes tell that tale that she'd spoken truly from the heart.

Regina grows more horrified by the second at the very prospect of enduring multiple pregnancies even though she knows very well it is impossible for her. Endless months of hormonal mood swings followed by hours of ripping pains as she passes an object the size of large vase through a hole tight enough to grip around a single finger. Frankly it sounds like torture, and one she cannot ask Red to endure in good conscience even if they possessed the means to make it possible in the first place. Which they most assuredly do not.

Seizing on the impracticality of conception under the circumstances, she adds, "Just how exactly do you propose to accomplish this miraculous feat? Last time I checked, we're missing an essential appendage required for conception."

Red nods, unperturbed by these irrefutable facts. "So? Like we discussed, we can adopt."

Regina concedes the point with a shrug of her shoulders. Insistent with confidence as Red is that adoption is a wholly acceptable choice, she cannot help but balk at her inability to provide so essential a service to her spouse.

Feeling insecure, she picks at the sheets between their bodies. "That is a viable option, of course. But I fear we will be fortunate to find one suitable child to adopt that the nobility would approve as legitimate successors. They will vastly prefer natural heirs. Which brings up the fact that you're young and fertile and I am neither. Don't you want to get pregnant, to grow large with a child that's been made out of love and bond with it before birthing it into the world?"

Just because she's not keen to go through such an awful ordeal doesn't mean Red feels the same. And judging by the wistful yet pained expression that overtakes that pretty face, Red does not share her reticence.

Red sighs, and the disappointment with which she speaks squeezes at Regina's heart. "You know I want that or else you wouldn't have brought it up. But tell me, who am I going to make a baby with out of love, huh? Because I have to tell you, you've ruined me for anyone else. It's just not possible for me to love anyone else other than you. So that's not gonna happen. And besides, there are so many kids out there of every age that need a home. Wouldn't it be incredible to give some of them a home that is full of love and support and encouragement? One where their parents are madly in love with each other, and have so much to give to a child who only wants to be loved. I don't need to give birth to be a mother, Regina, and neither do you, so don't let that be a hindrance to us having a family. And who gives a rat's ass about what the nobles think? This isn't their kingdom last I checked. They'll accept our kids or take a damn hike. I'll tell 'em myself if I have to."

Regina stares at her wife with a wonderment she ought to have run out of by now. But Red keeps finding ways of surprising her, of exceeding her expectations, and of showing her just how astonishingly vast her reserves of love are.

Tears of joy well up, and she reaches for her wife's hand to thread their fingers together. "You really mean that don't you?" she asks, tone matching her awe of the woman she neither deserves or appreciates nearly enough. "You would really be okay with adopting and never getting to have your own child or fulfill your somewhat illogical dream of singlehandedly repopulating the castle?"

Red gives her a longsuffering look as she thumbs away a tear that Regina hadn't noticed escape her lids. "Of course I would, you silly woman. You're the love of my life! I want a family with you, however we have to go about making that happen."

"Okay, then." Regina whispers the words so faintly that no one else could have heard them but her werewolf of a wife. Her reward is a smile so wide and bright and beautiful that it could never be adequately portrayed by even the most prodigiously talented artists of any realm.

Still smiling, Red's grip on Regina's hand tightens until it is a bit uncomfortable. Her excitement is unmistakable. "Yeah? You really, really want to?"

Regina nods, feeling her own excitement grow. "I really, really do."

"Oh, Regina! Oh! I didn't think you'd say yes, but I'm so happy you did, 'cause I've been talking to Matron Vilenda at the orphanage, and she was telling me about this one couple who waited for so long to adopt..."

Regina listens as Red goes on about the tragedy of a woman who lost her husband and her entire family only to then die in childbirth. Nodding sadly and smiling encouragingly where appropriate, she lets Red gush about the resoundingly successful adoption of the infant boy without a soul in the world left to claim him.

And when Red is finished, eyes alight and cheeks flushed with excitement, she swallows down her many, deeply rooted apprehensions and simply says, "Alright. You've convinced me. As soon as we are able, we'll pay a visit to Vilenda."

Red's exuberant shout of unadulterated joy fills the room and Regina's heart, too. When she finally makes it back to sleep half an hour later, she has a tiny but hopeful smile upon her face.

#once upon a time fanfic #red queen #regina x ruby #this is a long chapter #lots of introspection #regina is scared of being a mom and with good reason #good thing she has Red to encourage her

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authenticparanoidghosts · 6 years

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here’s a very long d&d story about the time my party used volleyball skills to become a god. for @komodoclassic, because she asked

this is a story in three parts

part i - a brief introduction of major characters and setting

okay so this was our big sophomore year campaign that lasted from first semester on over into part of second semester

really good campaign, our DM put a lot of work into it and we love him, but we had so many players that we had to split into two groups who both played the same world on the same timeline which was a huge fantastic mess

it ended bc the group I was in got a total party kill fighting a lizard with a magic eyeball (a totally different story - I was playing a hot tree and I might have killed him on my own after the rest of the party died if he hadn’t had that fucking entourage) and the other group killed the interdimensional asshole/refugee guy my party was actually trying to help

anyways, important characters in this story:

our DM, who I will not refer to by name even though I do tag him by name sometimes. I love to be inconsistent

me, playing my first character for this campaign (who did survive! she had to be retired before the lizard TPK for other nonsense reasons), a dwarf paladin named Taxes

Taxes (real name: Ataxite Tellus) was from a family of swindlers and petty criminals and was forced to leave her life of burglary and scamming when her parents got paid off to have someone take the fall for murdering The Very Important Mayor Of The Big Island Of This Archipelago Country and decided to frame her for it

instead of going to jail like she was supposed to, she was like “fuck this” and fled to a different island where she dyed her hair and put on a bandana like an old west outlaw and spitefully decided to dedicate her life to Not Being A Huge Asshole

obviously the way to do this is by taking some (k)night classes and becoming a paladin

Taxes is not a very good paladin

her god is Deimos, who does fire and war and justice and out of all the gods we met during the campaign (which was honestly a shocking amount) he was the nicest to us

our DM said he (Deimos) got briefly famous on the d&d reddit - partially because of this story and partially because of the stunts we were pulling immediately before it

anyways it’s important that you know that Taxes is from a family of criminals and just genuinely not very good at her job

one of my roommates, playing an elven wizard/lich whose name was Faenor but went exclusively by Gregg

good things to know about Gregg: she and Taxes had a classic straight man/banana man dynamic where she would try to do terrible ridiculous criminal things and Taxes would loudly protest but do very little to stop her

a friend, playing a dwarf paladin/cleric named Yule Marbles

Yule also followed Deimos and she and Taxes had an elaborate prayer handshake that they’d made up that gave them DM-sanctioned bonuses to religion checks

our party prayed basically exclusively to Deimos and eventually gained new player characters who ALSO followed him so after a point we just kind of paraded around the world as Deimos’ Favorite Idiots

part ii - volleyball

alright those are the people you need to know, let’s set the scene

our party needs to flee Dinosaur Hell Island where we have just solved the mystery we were summoned to help investigate and also accidentally started a war

quick trivia: Taxes (me) got mocked CONSTANTLY through the campaign bc she kept ACCIDENTALLY STARTING WARS

BAD PALADIN BEHAVIOR

but I did get a joke proficiency in starting wars which I later convinced the DM to let me use to benefit the party, so who’s laughing now, motherfucker

(the final count was that at LEAST three (3) legitimate, real-ass wars could be traced directly back to my actions as Taxes, as well as a couple other events that I would prefer to call “skirmishes” or “battles” that happened more indirectly. I refuse to count Malcolm’s not-so-legal battle for the deed to hell because 1) I did NOT help that guy, I just said I would, and 2) that was his problem and he started it)

we are leaving without telling anyone what we’ve found out

because they’re going to kill us, probably

you know. because of the war. that we started. on their already incredibly politically fraught island

the point is that we solved the goddamn mystery despite being absolutely terrible detectives and we FINALLY get to leave

we’ve been playing this part of the campaign for weeks and we’re all very tired of it

also the player who was intended to take point on the investigation (her hot mentor/maybe boyfriend? was the one who had called us there) had died pretty early on doing a pretty risky stunt involving a shark and an underwater cave, so we were just muddling through it

and we kept “”accidentally”” insulting people by stealing things (dinosaurs) and getting caught trying to break into things (sacred temples) and just generally being rude (Yule REALLY didn’t like the fey and I was briefly cursed by a swamp hag)

and, again, we started that war

we really need to skip town

a very unfortunate ship had crashed on the island a couple days previously and some of the people on it are very powerful sorcerers who we (really just Xenon, the half-orc fighter and everyone’s very best friend) have convinced to teleport us off the island

we just need to hide out on their beach and kill some time until the teleportation circle is ready

“do you want to take a rest?” the DM asks

“we should play beach volleyball,” someone else says, at the exact same time

resting is for suckers who are afraid of the very angry lizard people who want to kill us

we vote unanimously to play beach volleyball

the DM graciously decides that, in the interest of comedy, we have all the materials we need and won’t have to, like, sit down and weave a net

we break into two teams of four. team names are quickly decided to be The Hotdogs vs. The Hamburglars

after the party split our group retained “hamburglars” as our group chat name because our threshold for what entertains us is embarrassingly low

there are eight of us, so we’re playing four-on-four

the makeup of the teams isn’t important (and I can’t remember them), but know that we’re a half-orc, a tiefling, a middle-school-age human girl, an adult human man, two dwarves, an undead elf, and a fishperson

we spend a decent amount of time coming up with rules necessary to let us play volleyball

it’s mostly dexterity checks and rolling a d4 to see what quadrant of the court the ball lands in

some of our group doesn’t know the rules to actual volleyball and they have to be explained

listen. this is possibly the nerdiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m willing to acknowledge that, you don’t need to tell me.

anyways, ultimately the outcome of the game doesn’t matter (the Hamburglars won) and neither does how good or bad anyone was at rolling for imaginary volleyball (we fucking crushed the Hotdogs)

the point is that we played it and were so charmed by it that we would not forget about our new skills. we would remember them in our hour of need.

part iii - now I am (accidentally) become (NOT ACTUALLY A) god, destroyer of pirates

imagine there’s a timeskip

like, uh, two weeks later in game time at MOST

the group has split in real life, so my group is now Taxes, Yule, Gregg, Roswell (delightful fishperson), and another guy who stopped coming regularly and then was later replaced by another guy who doesn’t really become important until later, when we try to help a dimension-hopping dicklick by killing a lizard and stealing his eyeball

his character’s name was Yashirou and he’s not in this at all but it’s important that you know that by the time he died he had been partially transformed into so many different things that he was achingly close to being classified as an abomination and also was probably going to be fired from his job as a space cop

anyways, it’s a new day and a new session

actually, it’s probably like 11 pm. this will be relevant later

Taxes, Gregg, and Yule are the only player characters present because Roswell was busy or something

we’re on a new continent, hanging out with Taxes’ younger sister, Olivine

Olivine has also split from their parents and now runs an all-female gang of pirates who steal from the two much BIGGER gangs of pirates and also the trading federation and then sells whatever they’ve captured to the anti-government faction of the civil war that’s currently happening on the continent

this civil war is the only war currently going on/about to start where the root causes are NOT my fault in any way because when the thing that caused the circumstances that are creating unrest happened, Taxes had her hands over her ears and was humming loudly bc she knew she’d be morally obligated to do something if someone told her what was going on

right now, both major gangs of pirates and the trading federation are also all currently at war with each other

this is my fault

nobody but Gregg and Yule know it’s my fault, though, so I’m only in danger of being mocked for it

anyways we’re hanging out with my sister

doing crime

well, Gregg is doing crime. Taxes and Yule are paladins so they’re just protecting their good friend Gregg from people who might try to do her harm. it’s an airtight excuse, thank you

we’re actually on the continent because we’re traveling to visit Yule’s wife and son

so my sister and her gang (and us) have recently stolen a bunch of supplies from a guy named Scipio who is, we’ve been told, a Huge Asshole

Olivine’s gang is going to pay some local sailors to run the supplies up to the northern part of the continent which is both where the rebels are based and where Yule’s family lives

so ofc we’re on one boat (chock full of magical items we have recently lit a perfectly nice wizard on fire to steal) and two of the girl gang members are on the other (full of, like, food I think) providing security and acting as Olivine’s representatives for the deal they’re trying to make with the rebel camp

things are going well

we’re just sailing, no big deal

except, you know, like the first rule of d&d is Never Get On A Boat

and we are definitely on a boat

undeniably on a boat

on a boat full of MANY stolen goods

so ofc a couple hours into our trip, a bigger, faster ship sails up behind us. a bigger, faster ship with very official looking flags

it’s a gang of pirate enforcers (from one of the big two gangs) and they are presumably here to rob the shit out of us

“oh shit” we say, and look over at the other boat where the only NPCs who can help us also appear to be mouthing oh shit

“well,” someone says (me), “I think we can talk our way out of this”

I like to think I’m optimistic (and sometimes I find combat boring)

I prefer to try to lie my ass off to get us out of bad situations

we let the pirates board

things to know:

previous to this adventure on this continent, Taxes had gained the ability to see the names of everyone she meets, Death Note style

also she has a new helmet