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mbti-notes · 1 year

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Anon wrote: I'm a 32 years old, poc, male ISTP. Due to the second mentioned factor and living in a closed, rural community, I was a victim to a lot of discrimination in my childhood. Both being hurt, scared and bit of a meathead at that time of my life, I turned to a shadier sides of the town (where people 'accepted' me more). I'll admit it was stupid in itself to even step a foot in that business, but I'll admit I really only stood around and try to look like a doberman (being 6ft and all).

Until, things got out of hand, and in my early adulthood, I actually got tangled in court and went into prison. While I eventually got out, I was feeling so terrible that I didn't return home and decided to stay in the city. Looking back at it, I can't really tell if it was a decision made on whim or something I wanted long time. Cause after while, months going to total years, my contact with my home place eventually lessened till I just completely severed all relationship there.

My mom was a really supportive person, albeit too strongheaded, and my absent dad altogether made me appreciate her all the more. She was a major factor why I felt so ashamed about my entire trial and temporary imprisonment. I won't say my childhood was the best, but I very deeply know she tried all her best to make it tolerable. The entire shady stuff I've been in, that at the time felt belonging, now had felt like I've had undone all her effort. [cont]

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I'm afraid I didn't receive the rest of your message, so please resend. Although I don't know what your question was, I can still make a few general points that may benefit you and other readers. You're not alone; a lot of people struggle because of a difficult childhood or have trouble reconciling past mistakes.

Throughout childhood and adolescence, your brain is designed to be very open to social influence because it helps you learn efficiently. Human children take a long time to mature compared to other animals, so they need to learn as quickly as possible. One reason humans evolved to be a cooperative and social species was to make it easier to pass crucial survival and cultural information from one generation to the next. The capacity to learn from collective memory and intelligence helped us evolve quickly as a species, but the downside was that negative cultural patterns could become more and more entrenched through each generation, making it difficult to change direction.

Social creatures learn from their social environment. No matter how great your parents are, they alone cannot shield you from all the negative influences of society at large, particularly when it comes to prejudice, discrimination, and hate. Even with maximal parental support, it is very difficult for one person, especially a child, to stand against an entire society that is designed to keep them down.

To learn optimally, kids need more than just parents. They also need good peers to rely on for emotional support, good teachers in school to model the right thinking and behavior, and good mentors from the community for learning how to be a productive member of society. Without enough moral support from the larger social environment, it is more difficult for kids to learn good decision-making skills. This is the meaning behind the common saying that it takes a village to raise a child. But when the village isn't passing down healthy cultural values, children are forced to work with disadvantages that prevent them from realizing their potential and flourishing in life.

Unfortunately, as a young child, your thinking isn't complex enough to understand just how toxic your social environment really is and why. Even if you have some moral instincts about how terrible the people around you are, you don't have any power to change anything, especially when sticking your neck out would risk severe blowback. When the social environment is putting great pressure on you to learn and internalize its toxic values AND your natural inclination as a child is to become a valued member of society, resistance doesn't really register as an option. Who wouldn't take the easier path and try to swim with the current?

Don't call yourself stupid when there were so many forces working against you. You shouldn't be blamed or blame yourself for the conditions of your upbringing that you had no control over. Accidents of birth shouldn't factor into your personal identity since you didn't have any say over them. However, in reality, people do define themselves by accidents of birth and they might waste too many years unconsciously seeking out the things that they felt deprived of in childhood. In this state of arrested development, of always longing for approval or belonging, they readily believe what people say, about who they are and who they should be. Eventually, they learn to be their own harshest critic and hold themselves up to toxic standards and expectations.

To really grow up is to become independent, to have the ability to mentally differentiate oneself from one's social environment enough to understand the importance of personal well-being. It's very hard to make something truly good out of yourself and your life when you don't know how to take care of your own well-being. As you enter young adulthood, the brain finally reaches maturation, and you gradually gain enough self-awareness to reflect and think more critically about yourself and your life. This opens up the possibility of choosing a future that is different than the one your childhood set up for you.

Who are you? Are you just your negative experiences? You will be, if you don't use your self-awareness to understand that how you define your identity is in your hands. You get to choose your beliefs and values and change them as necessary. You get to choose the people you let into your personal life. You get to choose how to respond to bad or difficult situations. You get to choose how to conduct yourself in your daily activities. You get to choose your next steps in life. All of these choices, over a lifetime, reflect who you really are. If at any point in time you don't like who you are, there is always the possibility of choosing a different path and becoming a better person.

You are well into adulthood and it sounds like you've been able to make some sense of your past and put negative events in the right perspective. However, even when people succeed in escaping their negative early childhood environment, it doesn't mean that there aren't some lingering questions and concerns always floating around in the back of the mind. For example:

How much of that environment still exists within you, and are you aware of the aspects that still influence you today?

Have you really made peace with everything that happened, or do you still harbor unresolved feelings and emotions that come out when you're stressed/unhappy?

Have you truly changed and bettered yourself, or would you still lose your way upon reentering a similarly toxic environment?

Was it all bad, or were there some good aspects of the past that you didn't appreciate and/or threw away unfairly and should try to reclaim?

Do you really have a better way of making decisions today, or are you still driven by past influences to either seek approval or enact rebellion over and over again in every new situation, always a victim of larger generational and/or cultural forces?

You mention having unresolved feelings of regret about your mom and how your decisions might have impacted her. When you realize the gravity of the hurt you've caused someone, the best you can do is try to make amends by expressing to them how genuinely sorry you are and empathizing with their suffering. You can also try to make up for mistakes by finding some way to compensate for hurt or damages caused to them, with their consent and agreement. Whether they can forgive you and resolve their feelings about the past is their business and not for you to control. In some cases, if the person you're trying to make amends with is no longer around or refuses to have contact with you, you have to find a way to forgive yourself.

Forgiving yourself involves addressing those lingering questions and concerns honestly. Are you truly sorry and repentant for your past mistakes? Have you understood why you made those poor decisions, learned the right lessons from them, and now live your life in a way that honors rather than repeats your past? Have you done something to make up for the mistakes you made, for example, through acts of service and devotion? Even when you can't obtain forgiveness from other people, you can come to forgive yourself by taking your negative past and transforming it into something positive, something that expresses the positive aspects of you and contributes something positive to the world around you. In this way, you take the lead to define who you are, rather than letting the past define you.

Maybe the guilt/regret never goes away completely, but maybe it shouldn't, because it has a job to do. Every part of you serves a purpose and should be properly understood and loved. The guilt/regret could serve as a reminder to choose carefully when you're at your low points and at risk of repeating past mistakes. Perhaps the guilt/regret is really your mom's voice in disguise and you were only able to hear it once you faced up to the past bravely. If that's the case, fully embracing the guilt/regret would be a good way to keep her love close to your heart, like a caring companion guiding you to live your life well.

#istp #childhood #independence #past #mistakes #forgiveness #self compassion #guilt #regret #racism #discrimination #ask

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aalt-ctrl-del · 1 year

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Don't listen to those gun nuts. None of them, and I mean absolutely none of them, understand statistics. They couldn't tell me the difference between a p-value and a z-value, let alone how to calculate either. They throw out stats they don't understand. Nothing you said was wrong. We are desperately in need of common sense gun reform, and the good news is we are working getting there. If you can, vote and encourage others to vote too. The right candidate is on your ballot, but they can't help usher in the gun reform without your support.

True.

They love to talk about their guns and how the guns will keep us safe. Then when you discuss the people that get shot up in places where we don't expect, like groceries stores, places where you don't expect confrontation likes clubs, they can't handle it.

This was like one of the first shots of the police I saw when we got the bodycam footage

Good officers put their lives on the line for the people. They go out there to serve in these sort of situations, recognizing they may not make it home. Unlike Uvalde, where the cops were armed to the teeth in tactical gear and armor, Nashville's enforcers went in like they just got called out of the street (an oversimplification and does not warrant the time it took to prep for this engagement, in less than 10 minutes).

But the shooter had AR high caliber weapons. People killing guns. I know gun phillics like to defend these light-weight but powerful rifles, so that they can manage pest animals like 'prairie' dogs, but the yield of these weapons decimates the body. Forensic Investigators need dental records on some of the victims to identify who was slain. They're torn to pieces.

And that is just the children. Adults are larger, more hardy in structure. But a good clear shot will splint the head and eviscerate everything atop the spinal cord. If the body doesn't go down first, which is what did happen to the shooter - cause Nashville did try to apprehend without putting the shooter down.

This pixel right here

A body. Understandably, it was blurred. The officers called this person, knowing they were close to the shooter. This was right after they pass the pictures on the wall with the children.

So there is this thing with gun ownership, as with dealing with any sort of weapon. You need to comprehend the responsibility and undertake an amount of respect for the weapon. This is not a prop, this is not a 'hobbyist' collectors item. This is a functioning tool with a history attached to it. No other asset can be owned, that has the sort of history a gun or sword, or whatever sort of weapon like a deactivated grenade might hold.

Guns are vastly different. They have a difficult and sordid history, and people need to understand that when they think they should own this weapon. Because this is a weapon with a purpose, and that is part of the ownership of this tool.

One of the aspects of the tool is understand what to use it for. And for whatever reason, the correlation between this tool and its intended result... should be scrubbed. The gun philics don't want to associate their collectors item with a weapon of terror or slaying children - which is what it is now. You try and describe to them what these weapons are meant to do, what the lack of gun reform and dismissal of improved legislator will do, and they want to spit 'statistics' about violence in 'the hood' the technical term for 'mass shootings', and all the good that guns do for people.

Which valid. People have been allowed the right to protect themselves from small time thieves and opportunistic predators (human, btw). People have defended their families, their friends, because a gun was involved. To be American is to have that right that is listed in the constitution, and we should be proud of that right.

At the same time, these gun philics are very proud to own AR and high caliber weapons, people killer guns. Weapons meant for the chaos and messiness of war, the battlefield, the "kill them before they kill you" situation.

It is the equivalent of owning a severed finger. Or the skullcap of a child. or collecting the molars of people from the grocery store. The jawbone of a grandmother picking peaches from the produce section.

There is a balance with rules and rights. I have these rights, and so do others in the same category. I acknowledge my rights can be misconstrued, violated by those with unethical agendas. The factor that I would like this right, can be abused by someone else, and there are consequences for that right, for this privilege.

Gun philics demand to have their right, but revoke wanting to contend with the consequences. Rather work to better improve this right and prevent mass shooting events, they bawl "MY RIGHTS ARE BEING INFRINGED ON!! YOU CAN'T HAVE ALL MY GUNS!"

Then go bury their guns in a bunker like a demented squirrel.

You say, "These are the people slain by a weapon meant to kill people. This is what having those rights has done, and if we don't work now to fix it, we can expect more of this."

Then they scream, "THIS IS LEFTIST PROPAGANDA! YOU'RE SWAYING PEOPLE TO YOUR IDEA OF THINKING."

Propaganda would entail, I have adjusted the thing or presented it in a fashion which misconstrues the truth of an event. Or, I have fixed in in a manner which hides some facet of the context of the situation.

The forensic investigators and morticians have gone onto the stand for the trial of these mass shooting events, and that has been called propaganda. Telling the truth and nothing but that ugly truth, has been labeled propaganda. How the police doing their job, happening to march by a dead body maimed by a mass shooter, is suddenly propaganda, is beyond morbid. That is a dead body, we are going to look at this person, they are no longer going to be with their family, they will no longer visit friends. They were killed in the hallway of an elementary school, a few feet from pictures of smiling children.

And people will be upset for pointing that out. "it's too soon to pass legislate on guns." "We can't pass reform or study the laws today".

We should be looking at the dead bodies. We should be looking at the faces of the law enforcement as they march into these situations, to DO THEIR JOB CORRECTLY AND WITHOUT HESITATION, and instead of praising them for the masterful job they did or saying they are heroes, do better to pass reform, so they are not going into these narrow hallways to hunt down an active shooter.

The fact of the matter is, we are making the streets unsafe for the police force who are doing their job. We've left schools vulnerable to attack by these people, because the ones who seek a weapon for killing people with intent to kill people, either seek our children or vulnerable citizens in a space that should be safe. There will be no "good people" with guns, because the "bad person" with the gun has the people killing rifle, and whoever is the good person with the gun is more likely to be carrying a pistol and not in the right stance or position to go Rambo like they envision them self doing in the astronomically low value situation of someone coming into their area to shoot up a cinema.

A last note, people don't really get how fortunate Nashville was, that the shooter confessed they were going to go out and shoot up a school. That the police got there and got inside, and that everything did go as it was meant to. But despite all that, we have casualties. It could have been worse, it could have been better, but the fact of it all is that it should not have happened in the first place.

#mass shooting #nashville #tenneessee #gun reform #second amendment #texas #uvalde #colorado #cinema #school shootings #dead children #the people who scream (i got rights and you can't take them. NeeeHHH!)#are also the people deeply unsettled and insulted by dead children #dead children are nothing new/ I know #Vietnam was a thing

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nokingsonlyfooles · 1 year

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Yo' Feets Too Big! and the Social Model of Disability

The social model of disability is a thing. Oh, fuck, that's a lot of words, though. And very abstract. That doesn't seem relevant to my interests. I'ma just scroll on by and look for a cute picture of a...

No, no, I mean a cute picture of a...

Damn it.

All right, look, although I can't help but use a lot of words, I promise I'll make this funny, and I'll give you one more cute animal at the end.

Let's imagine an alternate world where we all lost our goddamn minds sometime near the beginning of the Industrial Revolution and decided we were only going to manufacture the most popular sizes of shoe. The mediums. The "normals." So let's say 7/8 for the ladies and 9/10 for the men. Wow, ha-ha, that's so weird. I wonder what that would do to us?

It turns out a lot of people in this world have a disease they call Peets Syndrome, named after the man who discovered it in - oh, let's give them a little credit - 1916. Lord Rodney Covington Smythe Anal Fissure Peets happened to notice, during the Great War, that some of the boys were way more susceptible to trench foot than the others. Sometimes their feet just fell right the fuck off. A lot of these boys were cutting holes and slits in their boots for some silly reason. The Army told them to stop doing that and produced several educational films on the matter, but it just didn't seem to help. The boys complained that their feet hurt. A lot. Like, constantly. The only thing that helped was cutting holes or slits in the boots, or just not wearing them at all.

After much study and a few vivisections of brown people and dogs (Lord Peets was too wealthy to serve and had a lot of free time, and possibly late-stage syphilis), Lord Peets discovered some boys had a physical deformity that made them incapable of wearing shoes. Perhaps they were a lesser-evolved species of Man, or part-Irish, but I repeat myself. "Peets Syndrome" was added to a list of conditions that invalidated young men out of military service, society reevaluated its standards of what it meant to "look Irish" or otherwise ethnic, and Lord Peets went on to become quite a successful serial killer, but let's not get into that.

Peets Syndrome was eventually found to effect women too. In - oh, again, let's not make them too stupid - 1954. There was some indication beginning in the 40s, when women were allowed out of the kitchen and began doing industrial jobs that required shoes. At first it was dismissed as some form of hysteria, indicating women's feeble brains and delicate bodies were unsuited for the workforce. Treatments included aspirin, tranquilizers, patting them on the head and telling them "Your test results are normal, you are fine," and, in some cases, lobotomy and institutionalization. Oopsie! It turned out some women were too deformed for shoes too, and now it was starting to look like they had a serious problem. Perhaps even an epidemic.

You see, by 1954, the world was already designed by - and for - people who could wear shoes. If you can't wear shoes, there's a lot you just can't do. If the weather is bad or the terrain is rough, you may not even be able to get to the store to buy food. With the stigma coming from its original association with subhumans and the Irish, polite society insisted upon whole, unmodified shoes, even in situations that didn't require them, like desk jobs and public transportation.

Parents feared a Peets diagnosis for their children, most common in their teenage years. This dread disease would relegate them to low-status, menial labour, and make it near-impossible for them to earn a living. Certainly, there was no point in letting "Peetsies" continue their education, or wasting money sending them to college. As a preventative measure, many parents began bracing their children's feet in adolescence or earlier, availing themselves of "painless" surgeries to remove "pesky toes," and piling phone books on top of their little heads (Peets Syndrome did seem to show a strong correlation with tallness).

When "obesity" was discovered by Dr. O. M. G. Obese in 1969, its correlation with Peets was affirmed soon afterwards, and it became necessary to put the children on diets - first on high-sugar, low-fat ones, then (another oopsie!) low-sugar and high-fat, and then... God, nothing seemed to be working! Maybe they ought to eat essential oils? Or spider eggs? Let's feed people actual spiders, maybe that will help!

Already, there were whispers that vaccines administered in the early teen years caused "Peetsism." Anyway, tetanus and diphtheria weren't a big deal. Somebody had to do something about the mounting numbers of teenagers and "late-diagnosed" adults with Peets!

Then, in the 1980s, in an ecstatic state of conservatism under Reagan and Thatcher, the US and UK governments decided to stop making shoes in sizes 8 and 9. Austerity! Responsibility! Belt-tightening and efficiency! Humanity could be served perfectly well by one size of women's shoe, and one size of men's. And, oh-no, the Peets diagnoses exploded. Nobody had any idea what was causing this. Plastics? Teflon? New Coke? Low-quality spiders from China?

Not to be racist, but could it be - the Irish?

Also, what the heck, people were getting tetanus and diphtheria in numbers unheard of since the invention of the vaccine. Conservative politicians, of course, lamented the lax liberal immigrations policies (a dog-whistle understood to mean "allowing the Irish to live here and breed") and wept that, "When I was a child, nobody had even heard of Peets!" "Vaccine choice" became a popular talking point.

Meanwhile, trans people, with a resigned sigh, added "And get foot surgery, I guess?" to the long list of expensive hoops they needed to jump through to have their existence even a little bit affirmed.

Society was way more concerned with how expensive it was to cope with the Peetsies. Green walkways with short grass, elevated sidewalk crossings, and adaptive shoes would require a total redesign of infrastructure and industry. And allowing people to walk around in public with their creepy weird feet all naked and visible would require a total restructuring of social norms. Couldn't these goddamn freaks get their shit together, or at least stop existing so loudly? Normal people were getting awfully sick of hearing about Peets!

After the discovery of "Micro-Peets" - a new disorder that left teens and adults still able to wear shoes, but caused blisters and injuries because somehow the shoes were too big - many people just threw up their hands in abject frustration. Saturday Night Live produced a truly hilarious sketch in which Chris Kattan, as a bumbling physician, diagnosed the entire audience with various forms of Peets, including Micro, Macro, Macaroni (portrayed by guest star Tom Hanks, with manicotti on every toe), Quantum and "Invisipeets." The cure, of course, was more spiders.

All-in-all, by the time the 2019 pandemic rolled around, "covid toes" were considered a net positive, and the disproportionate number of Peets deaths seemed indicative of the fact that Peetsies were fundamentally broken. The growing "Peets Power" movement was dismissed as misguided at best, and a possibly a public health hazard. New York, California, British Columbia and Tumblr were considered hyper-liberal outliers. J. K Rowling, in her latest Twitter meltdown, called all of them "icky."

I know this bit is wearing thin, so let me just generate a few random headlines you might find if you searched for "peets news today" on the internet:

-Peets Increasingly Common in US Black and Hispanic Children

-Top 10 DIY Shoe Mods for Peetsie Adults!

-"Peets Friendly Education" Budget Cut Again, Ted Cruz Suggests "Bake Sales"

-Feel Good News: MIT Students Design "Size 11" Shoe That Allows Disadvantaged Black Teen to Play Basketball with His Peers!

-Pfizer Increases Prescription Shoe Cost Again, "Size 12" Now Costs $1,500 Per Shoe

-"Don't Say Peets" Bill Gaining Traction in Florida and Arizona

-Opinion: Ontario Woman Demands, "Why Did It Take 15 Years to Diagnose Me with Micro-Peets?"

-February Designated "Peets Awareness Month," Biden Says "Black people can share."

-"Adaptive Peets Therapy" Unsuccessful, Traumatic, "Life-Threatening" for Toddlers and Young Children

-Anti-Trans Group Demands "Shoe Locks" to Protect Women's Spaces

-Peets Diagnosis Associated with Depression, Anxiety for Some Reason

-Spider and Apple Cider Vinegar Smoothie Top New Health Drink!

OK. Have a little giggle, if you're inclined. Dry your eyes, blow your nose, and look around. Any of that seem familiar? Well, that's because disability is a function of society, not the individual. Got it? Cool.

Here's a picture of a baby duck.

#baby animals #kitty #puppy #duckies #society #disability #social issues #alternate universe #satire #metaphor #peets #the more you know

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wondervillain · 1 year

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Ok so today I saw a post about the relationship between Mormons and racism, which I know very little about. So I google it, which led me into spending my Sunday morning learning about how white people used religion to justify slavery.

Don't know if this is common knowledge, but it wasn't for me and I was never taught this story in all the years I was obligated to attend church. So here's what I learned:

White Christians, especially North Americans, used two different Bible passages to justify slavery. The first was the mark of Cain. So, as everybody knows, Cain killed Abel, and as punishment for murdering his brother, he was cursed by God to bear a mark so everybody would know what he did. No one really knows what the mark really was. It could be a literal mark on his skin. Some say God put his name on Cain's forehead. But the racist ones, oh the racist ones said that God made Cain's skin darker to mark him (keep this information, its important for later). Another consequence of the murder is that Cain would not be able to harvest from the land that was touched by Ables blood. So Cain gathered his things and went to another place, got married and had children. His children would also bear his mark (dark skin).

Right after Abel's death, Eve got pregnant and had another child called Seth. Seth got married and had his own children. A few generations later Noah (the one from the ark) was born. So Noah got his family and a bunch of animals into his boat to survive the flood while everybody else died (including Cain's entire lineage). According to racist religious people, one day Noah got drunk and passed out naked in his tent. One of his sons, Ham, saw his naked father and went on to tell his brothers. Another version says that instead of covering him, Ham had sexual relations with his unconscious father. Noah infuriated cursed Ham's son, Canaan, to be a slave of slaves. Canaan's entire lineage would be considered less than his cousins as they would be obligated to serve them.

But here comes the twist those racist fuckers used: Ham' wife, Canaan's mother, was actually a descendant of Cain. So Canaan was born with Cain's mark, which was black skin. And that's how religious white people justified slavery of black people. They felt righteous to enslave the descendants of both Cain and Canaan, which were black people cursed to be slaves by God's will.

I really can't believe that I never heard this atrocious version until today. The church I grew up in never even mentioned slavery. The past is so horrid and full of blood.

#Really I'm still so mad #racism #religion #racism and religion

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insidious-rp · 2 years

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⊱ 𝑰𝑵𝑺𝑰𝑫𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺 ⊰

「 ͏ Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, The Legacies, American Horror Story ͏ 」

𝗢𝗖 𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 ┆ 𝗟𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 ┆ 𝟭𝟵+ 𝗺𝘂𝗻 & 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗲 ┆ 𝗦𝘂𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝗖𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗔𝗨 ┆ 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 ┆ 𝗠𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗦𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀 ┆ 𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗔𝘀𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 & 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀 ┆ 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝘁 𝗦𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗺

Insidious is a supernatural city au that focuses on literacy and character development. We value plot-driven storylines and will do our best to aid you with various plot devices and events along the way. Join us today and give us the opportunity to become your home!

Since 2010, mysterious disappearances and murders began to take place all around the world. These incidents were not only horrifying but unexplainable to anyone who was unfortunate enough to witness it. Not a single case could unfold the truth but they all had one thing in common: the victims of these incidents all happened to be supernaturals.

Gradually, several supernatural species began to get wiped off the face of the earth; species such as necromancers, elves, and even magical animals went extinct. Not only were they disappearing into thin air, but the remaining species were beginning to experience weakening and, eventually, the disappearance of their powers with time.

Ultimately, people caught on that someone or something was passing judgment on supernatural beings and slowly demolishing every species in existence. Although the force responsible for these acts remained a mystery, its agenda became alarmingly clear day by day.

It’s the year 2021 now and only six species remain: vampires, werewolves, witches, pixies, demons, and water spirits but the horrendous stories have instilled profound fear in these remaining individuals. They know they’re next, that they won’t be dismissed, nor forgotten. By now, solace is a concept foreign to them but they’ve managed to escape to New Orleans, the birthplace of all Magic, where it all began. It is the only place known to protect the supernaturals from this unknown evil force and the only city on earth that allows them to retain their supernatural abilities as long as they remain within the city.

Though they’re not entirely free from all worries inside the city either. Residing in New Orleans is daunting and comes with its own fret. The remaining supernatural species are forced to fight for their kind as the last bit of the magic remaining in New Orleans can only be extended to one kind. Years of supernaturals becoming a mere myth humans told their children meant a prevalent decrease in what these supernaturals all had in common: magic. The safety net New Orleans offers is only temporary. The city itself is a ticking time bomb, for its magical barrier and remaining power will vanish one day.

Centuries ago, by some miracle, these different species had agreed to coexist in peace. But nothing remains the same forever. The chapter turns to a new page and everything they had built is erased. Whether these vampires, werewolves, witches, pixies, and demons agree to the fight or not, it must take place if they wish to go down in history as the last remaining species.

The humans residing in New Orleans are about to witness events they’ve never seen before in their life. Will it be a good show they live to tell? Or will their own downfall become another piece of the supernaturals’ story? Only time will tell.

New Orleans awaits.

⊱ About ⊱ Guidelines ⊱ Masterlist ⊱ Species ⊱ Application ˊˎ-

#krpnet #krp #krp ads #mewe rp #literate roleplay #oc roleplay #supernatural roleplay #city au #ocrp #oc rp #rpg #magic rp #fantasty rp #mature rp #kpop roleplay

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cratlord · 1 year

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Timely Picture Chapter 2

Sirius Black wakes up after spending 20 years trapped in a portrait by his own family. When Old magics are invoked, and ancient entities recognized, how will events change? How differently does everything play out when Harry gets a few more snakes in his corner, namely, the true face of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, one of the few houses who still remember the old ways? As always when a story involves the House of Black, things go to madness quickly.

Series Page

Sirius came to with a groan. As he did every morning, he instantly began his occlumency exercises. He remembered grumbling as a child when his father forced him to learn the skill, but now he couldn’t imagine facing this entire mess without it. He doubted he would have even trusted his own memories of the previous day without occlumency. The skill did so much more than just protect from mental attacks. It was a way of organizing thoughts, aiding in recall and retention, and enhancing observational skills. At its core though, what occlumency was was magically enhanced self awareness. While it did help you observe more, remember more, and have better recall, it was always limited to what you were inherently capable of. Sirius was, thanks to his occlumency, constantly aware of what his senses were telling him, and was able to file that information away in an organized manor in his mental schema's, then thanks to that organization, was able to easily make connections, draw relevant conclusions, and recall needed information at a moments notice. This also meant he was always aware of his own body, its magic, and his thoughts. That was the core of how occlumency helped protect you from intrusion. You have to spot an attack before it can be countered. It also meant you always knew when an experience was real, a dream, or magically induced. Lucid dreaming was the most common side effect of learning the art.

Occlumency was one of the many things Regulus used to rant about in regards to Hogwarts. Most pureblood children learned it at a young age, even if most would never truly be great at it, which made it yet another advantage they had over non-purebloods. It was the real reason why most prefects as well as most of the ranks of the top of class were dominated by purebloods. Add to that the abysmal history curriculum and most of the magical information that truly made being magical better than being muggle was completely withheld from all but the most ambitious half-bloods and muggleborns.

Sirius wiped a tear from his eye at the thought of his brother before locking the grief away for the moment and continuing his exercises. He counted his breaths as he systematically cataloged everything he was sensing, and following the connections to everything he remembered about each of the sensations. He went through his senses one by one starting with touch. He was still in his silk pajamas, warm in the soft in a familiar feeling bed. He followed the threads of emotion from the heavy feeling of blankets on him to the memories of himself as a young boy, being tucked in by his mother and feeling safe from the beings of the night. He continued through sight, sound, taste, and finally, smell. Being a canine animagus had some bleed through to his human form, one of which being his sense of smell was as good as a dogs, even in this form.

Just like before he slept, everything appeared to the naked eye as if nothing had changed. After reading what he had though, he knew that not to be the case. Being better rested and less confused, he was finally able to put together what was wrong with how the house smelled. It really was sterile. As he began to take stock of the scents in the house, there was a distinct lack of them. There were no animals or people to speak of. Only the elves seemed to remain and it was clear they hadn’t done much other than maintain the house. There was no residual cooking smells wafting from downstairs, not so much as a speck of ash remained in his fireplace, no woody smell from the log pile (as there was no log pile), no lingering smells tread in from the outdoors, there was simply nothing. For a person as scent oriented as Sirius was, it was in itself very disorienting to smell so little outside of his own aroma (which was not fantastic at the moment, he mentally grimaced).

He shook his head to clear the lack of thoughts. The only way for the house to be this smell-less was if it had been sealed. He knew that Grimmauld was a fair might bigger than most people realized. Thing was, most of the house was accessible to only blood relatives unless expressly invited. Even the true “Black Manor” could be limited to even fewer people in times of emergency (or in the event the whole family decided to travel all at once). While Grimmauld Place was a luxurious townhouse which housed the guests of the Black family, Grimmauld Manor was an imposing secret palace, which at the discretion of the Lord Black could be closed off to literally just the immediate members of the main family. When this happened, it was truly sealed in every way. It was locked air tight with the only access being granted to bonded Black family elves, who only cleaned the dust then left it alone. The house, if put in a true lock down, would even trigger an extremely powerful stasis so that everything in it would remain exactly as the Lord of the Manor left it.

His thoughts began to follow that line. Even if the Manor was sealed, there should still be smells. Stasis charms, even powerful ones, didn’t eliminate previously made signs of the passage of time. And even an elf’s small stature walking on the rugs should be enough to toss up any residual particles in the threads. That there were no smells must mean that the elves had been living in this sealed Manor for so long, that all, or at least enough, of the normal materials which make scents have been cleaning charmed away. That would mean that not only were the stasis charms stopping the normal degenerative processes which created more dust, but also there truly must have been no other living things in this part of the house outside of the few moments it would have taken an elf to dust. Even house elves would take years to clean to this level.

That also meant his mother wasn’t living here anymore. His mother was a proud woman, and the thing that gave her the most honor, in her mind, was being the Lady Black, the female half of Europe’s most notorious power couple. She took her role as Lady of the house very seriously, to the point that it was a defining characteristic of her personality. To people outside of the family, she came off as strict, stern, even unfeeling. To those who knew her best, they knew she was in fact the most passionate out of all of them. If she was strict, it was because she just cared that much. If she was stern, it was because she refused for settle for less than the best for and from her family. If she appeared unfeeling, it was because the fires of her passion would most assuredly come off as unseemly in public, so she would occlude away her feelings until they got home where she would rant to make a sailor blush.

Sirius felt his heart sink. He knew deep down, if his mother wasn’t living in this house, then the only explanation was that his mother wasn’t living. He felt his breath hitch as the realization sank in. Gripping his blanket tightly, he bundled it up to his face as he felt his tears begin to flow. His parents and Little Reggie. All gone. All the while he was in some weird stasis. The racking sobs began in earnest as he remembered the last thing he had said to his mum.

They had been fighting. Not an uncommon occurrence in the Black household. Sirius and Walburga fought all the time. Many attributed it to his being sorted into Gryffindore, though Sirius knew they fought long before that. Really, they were both just stubborn and far too much alike. She had even admitted to him once, the summer after his first year, that she herself had been a hat stall, as the hat tried to convince her Gryffindore would have been her best choice.

The main source of their disagreements was his ‘unseemly’ behavior. While most people when occluding tended to push all their emotions aside and become stoic or blank, Sirius was a rare type of occluder whose baseline facial expression was a mischievous smirk. Seemingly from birth, he had been a little hell spawn determined to break the rules and have fun. He had issues with authority and few things gave him more pleasure than calling out the hypocrisy of those in power, and the more ironic the method, the better. He and his mother both agreed that most people were stupid, but it was what they did with this information that was the cause of their constant bickering.

The last thing Sirius discussed with his mother was regarding exactly that. It was the Easter Hols, just before he was to sit his OWLs. They were fighting about the week of detention he had earned, yet again, right before coming home. He had executed a truly fabulous prank on the Head Boy, which ended with him glowing neon for several days while being forced to sing his intentions in rhyme. He got a weeks worth of detention and was awarded 10 house points for Gryffindore for exposing a rather sketchy system where the Head Boy had been trading sexual favors for aiding students in their personal vendettas. It was a clear abuse of power on the boy’s part.

Naturally his mother agreed the boy needed stopped, but she was of the mindset that he should have blackmailed the little shit. He could have been a useful asset, but no, he had to go and waste the opportunity by embarrassing him and all the people who sucked his knob for favors. They fought for hours about how useful the boy would have been as an asset. The last remark he remembered throwing her way was something along the lines of how she never trusted his ability to judge a person’s worth. After that he had cried himself to sleep, then woken up on the dining room floor.

He would never have a chance to tell his real mother how much her opinion really meant to him, or how much it hurt when they fought like that. He would be the first to admit that his parents methods were often quite sketchy, but he never once doubted their ability to get shit done. He just did things a different way. And now, they were gone. So much they could still have taught him, now out of his reach. Sure he still had their portraits, but even with the secret Black family method of portraiture, they still weren’t the complete person.

And Reg. He didn’t want to acknowledge the ugly sounds he was making at this point as he wailed his pain into his bedclothes. His baby brother. Reg was supposed to be his responsibility, his to protect. They were going to take the world by storm, together. Now they never would. It was enough that it felt like his chest had caved in. His little brother had left him. He had thrown him on ice and woken him up to a world where all he had left was of Reg was a letter telling Sirius that his family and best friend were dead. How long had the little shit-bird known this was going to happen, and he just let it?

By the time Sirius got around to crying for James, he was curled up in a ball on his bed whimpering like the dog he was inside. Tears flowed freely still down his face along with even less socially acceptable bodily fluids. His hands were balled up in his hair with his knees nearly between his elbows. He lost all track of time to his grief as he cried alone in the dark of his bedroom, until the dark claimed his mind as well.

When he awoke again, he again groaned his displeasure to the silent room. As his eyes cracked open, he noticed a sliver of light escaping into the room from between the curtains. Based on the brightness, it was well into the day.

He blocked out the minuscule bit of light with a slightly shaking hand. After several moments, he groaned again as he flopped over to lay on his back. Looking to his ceiling was only slightly better than staring at the crack between the curtains. Taking a deep breath, he managed to push himself up to a seated position on his bed. He rubbed his neck for a minute while he scowled at his room trying to work up the motivation to get out of bed entirely.

Knowing he couldn’t stay in bed forever, he reluctantly started his occlumency exercises again. It went mostly the same as it had the last time he was awake, but for a few key differences. One, the room had light in it this time. Two, by the time he got to cataloging the smells around him, he no longer had any wish to stay in bed. He felt crusty and dehydrated from crying all night, his mouth tasted like ass, he could hear his own dehydrated joints creaking, and he smelled like a troll.

He swung his legs out of the bed and braved the cold wood of his bedroom floor with his bare toes. Suppressing a minor shiver at the shock of leaving his warm blanket cocoon, he meandered to his en suite for a long, hot soak. An hour later he emerged from his room fully cleaned and dressed, feeling at least like a human again. He only ever wanted to smell like a dog when he was one. He made his way back down to the ground level from his room, where he assumed an elf must have put him after he fell asleep at the dining table.

As he walked down the hall, he noticed none of the other portraits were awake. The Black ancestors who lined the wall of the ancestral manor were all in stasis with the house. It was strange what a difference it made. The manor usually felt so lively and welcome, but like this it felt cold, sterile, and dead. Even the color scheme of the house took on a more sinister tone. The rich dark woods and greens, with silver accents usually came off as decadent. In a house so still, those colors looked like something a dark lord would wear.

He smirked to the world, lifting his head and shoulders. He walked quickly towards the dining area, passing through the third floor hall, down the long side stair mostly used by Sirius and his brother, then along the main hall of the first floor. He passed the silent library, which took up over half of this floor, and the various offices and whatnot on the other side. Finally, he made it to the main stair, an impressive bit of architecture designed to stun and awe, which always had seemed a bit pointless to Sirius as only family ever saw it. It was a long, elegantly detailed, sweeping stair, which started at about twelve feet across at the bottom and narrowed to 8 feet by the top. The wood had veins of silver threaded through it, branching over all the flats of the stairs, with the vertical parts entirely covered by intricate carvings telling the stories of the founding and growth of the House of Black. Stories Sirius had grown up with, and eventually been forced to memorize.

The sooner his father told him how to lift the stasis the better. It was all almost creepy at the moment. He had spent his entire life calling the Manor home, and had never once found its grandeur and darkness intimidating or off putting.

He hurried down the Grand Stair and into the dining room. His father was dozing in his frame, so Sirius made his way directly to the table where he had sat the last… well, he wasn’t sure how long he was in his room. Sirius knew Reg had somehow awakened his family magics, but other than that, he had no concept of how long it took for a wizard to recover from such a thing. It had been many generations since the family had needed such power. He could have been out for days for all he knew.

He sat down and stared at the book where it lay on the table, just beside where he had laid his head. After about a minute, there was still silence and a blank table. He blinked, shifting uncomfortably.

“I need an elf.” He said quietly.

Immediately an elf appeared, though it wasn’t one he recognized. It was very young looking, possibly only just into adulthood.

“What can Ponksey do for Master?” she asked in a squeaky voice. She was grinning like a loon.

Sirius eyed the new elf. “And where do you come from, Ponksey?”

The elf was quivering with excitement, and it spoke quickly. “Ponksey is being replacement for Leafy, who retired to the honorable wall. I’s being made by Lobsey and Darky. They’s still be working here. Both are currently readying house for its return from stasis.”

Sirius remembered the elf’s parents. Lobsey was their nurse elf growing up, and Darky took care of the greenhouses in the back yard. Last he remembered, they had asked permission to try for a new elf. At the time, Leafy, their general cleaner, had started to get on in years. The manor was very large, and had an entire team to handle cleaning and preservation of the house and its artifacts. Elves lived quite a bit longer than humans, with one elf being able to serve several generations of a family. The Black’s were the only family Sirius knew of who honored the elves in their death by making them a permanent part of the house they served. Most people found it creepy, but they clearly didn’t understand house elf culture. Being an elf to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was one of the greatest oaths an elf could take by their standards. The Blacks not only did their best to keep elven families together, but also honored their life of servitude by giving them a wall to hang their ancestors on, much like the family tapestry of the Blacks themselves. The elves often looked to the wall with great pride. Sirius knew it was a point of pride for Lobsey that there were four generations of her family on that particular wall. She was descended from six hundred years of her families service to this house, and now her daughter would add to that. Sirius made a mental note to congratulate her when he saw her next.

“Thank you, Ponksey. Now, I would like some breakfast. Something to give me energy and help me recover from my rather trying day. I would like some juice as well as tea. When that is done, I would like to given a report on the state of the Black properties.”

Ponksey gave a deep bow and squeaked, “Yes, Master. And all the elves be wanting to welcome the true master home.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as Ponksey popped away, a quiet throat clearing drew his attention to Orion’s portrait.

“Good morning, son. I trust you are feeling better today?” Orion had that nice smile on his face again.

Sirius turned to face his father in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, father. The therapeutic benefits of uncontrollable sobbing are simply marvelous.”

Orion chuffed a small laugh. “I have always appreciated your way with words. That aside, I’m afraid there is much we need to discuss. I am sure you have questions, and I will do my best to answer, though I have been a portrait for some time, so I likely won’t be able to give you all the information you seek.”

Sirius nodded and took a moment to gather his wits. He knew this would not be an easy conversation. After a moment, he decided to get the simple bits out of the way first.

“What day is it?”

Orion nodded, looking pleased. “Yes, a good place to start. It is June the twenty-second, in the year 1996. And just so you know, your brother passed in seventy-nine, a couple of months before I myself did, and your mother passed just ten years ago.”

Sirius filed that information away before deciding what to ask next. He lacked so much information, he wasn’t sure even where to start, so he kept it broad. “What the hell happened?”

“I’ll try to keep it brief, but I am afraid that is a rather complicated topic and it may take some time to get through it all.”

Sirius held a hand up to pause their conversation. He felt a slight magical buildup signaling, most likely, the arrival of breakfast. A moments pause showed his instinct to be spot on. In a silent and muted flash of light, a full breakfast appeared. He had grape juice and a full pot of tea, his favorite gibassiers with warm honey butter, and oeufs cocotte, with bacon, herbs, and cream. The scents were nearly overwhelming after smelling so little for the last however long. His mouth immediately started to water and his stomach growled pitifully.

Without hesitation he downed his first glass of juice before pouring a second from the pitcher, then began fixing his tea after giving his father a subtle hand gesture to keep going.

Orion heeded the signal, and began speaking again as he watched his son ravenously, yet still politely, demolish his breakfast. “So it all started when Regulus came to me before what would have been his second year to tell me he was having visions. I, of course, knew immediately that meant you would likely have to have your family magics awakened at some point, and putting two and two together, knew that the current dark lord and his goons were the likely culprits. You can imagine my confusion then when you brother told me it may be in our best interest to not fight the dark bastard, and to let him be. He swore me to secrecy, with a Confessors Oath no less, not to tell you or your mother, and we argued over what was to be done for the next two years. There were so many factors to discuss, it was all very complicated, a matter not aided by the fact that seer’s visions are not absolute or complete, so we never had all of the information we would want to try to make decisions. The main things we knew for certain were thus. First, the dark lord was a demon. He had made horcruxes and in so doing invited the shade of an ancient evil into his core where his soul should have been. The old charming Tom Riddle of decades past was no more, and in his place was Lord Voldemort, wanker supreme.”

Sirius snorted inelegantly at his fathers apt description. The violence had been growing steadily for a few years, as of Sirius’ time, and more and more of his classmates, especially from Slytherin, were beginning to get dragged into it. Only a real wanker builds a child army, but from what bits of information he was privy to at school, many of the older purebloods were wise enough to try to wait it out and see what happened. Magic often had a way of balancing out things like dark lords, and usually when the other shoe dropped, any family who allied themselves with a psychopathic mass murderer didn’t come out on top. The Gaunts of course being the most recent house to fall, were still just recent enough to be memorable. They put everything into the early rise of Grindewald, only to lose it all when the selfish bastard turned on them for political reasons, leaving them poor and basically destitute. Their manor ended up being sold to muggles of all people, and within fifty years the family died out in disgrace.

By preying on the youth of the magical world, Wanker Supreme was in effect bypassing any wisdom which could still be found in the notoriously whimsical magical world. It was something the family had discussed in the past, and one of the reasons why Reg was so adamant that history should be taught better than Binns was capable of.

Orion kept going, ignoring the snort. “The next thing we knew for certain, was that the child of James and Lily Potter would be a child born of a true ancient bond, and if things progressed in a certain way, he could even be sanctified by blood sacrifice.”

This stopped Sirius dead, causing him to hold a hand up to pause his father while he finished chewing the last of his second egg. “So, James was right all these years? They really were meant to be?”

Orion lifted his eyebrows. “It seems the Potter boy is more self aware than I ever gave him credit for. Yes. They were two parts of an ancient bond, thousands of years and many lifetimes long. I am not sure which ancient ones they were, but it may be recorded in the Potter Grimoire. Fleamont and I weren’t on the best of terms the last several years of my life, so I was never privy to that.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” Sirius gave himself a moment to let it sink in that his idiot best friend who constantly made a fool of himself to get Lily’s attention was actually already soul bound to her for eternity. He felt his respect for the woman increase even more, knowing she had to deny him so much, despite how her core must have been screaming for her to say yes, just to get the cheeky little fucker to calm down and be less of a tit. Shaking the thought off, he gestured for Orion to continue and reached for a pastry.

“Finally, we knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the political climate of those early years of the war would have not stopped the fighting even if the dark lord fell. I have taught you enough history to know that people don’t respond well to fear of the unknown. While little has changed in the magical world, the muggle world has changed dramatically the last few hundred years, and it hadn’t escaped most purebloods notice that their change seemed to explode rapidly onwards as soon as the Statute of Secrecy took full effect. Some pro-muggle factions were even saying that the stagnation and filth that plagued their society all those years before the industrial revolution were in part the fault of the magicals, because we were constantly disproving their sciences and limiting their ability to learn and take charge of their environment. Many found that to be quite insulting, as you can imagine.

“The anti-muggle factions were screaming instead about the rapid population growth of muggles, and their excessive damage to the natural environments. Even though they themselves had gotten cleaner and healthier, as well as certainly more financially prosperous, they traded that for destroying the land itself. In a few mere centuries, entire forests had been wiped out, whole cultures and languages lost, wars and destruction on a scale humanity had never experienced before. Atomic weapons were brought up often. The main issue with their arguments to fear muggles was that they had no solution, only doom. There was no clear way to either cut ourselves off from them completely or to rule them as some lunatics still demanded.

“It was an argument that was fertile for conflict of the violent and bloody variety, because the reality is both sides were absolutely correct. We really have been stagnating, which put the pureblood traditionalists on the defensive and caused them to lash out at muggleborns, an easy target to blame as the weak link in the Statute of Secrecy. On the flip to that, muggles truly have become more terrifying. At this point, it is quite unlikely we will be able to maintain secrecy using the same methods as we have employed in the past, and if they find us, we could not hope to win in an all out conflict. They outnumber us by 100 to one in our most magically dense areas, with worse ratios in most big cities.”

Sirius finished his pastry, starting to feel full, but reaching for his third egg anyways. Before he took a bite though, he turned to his father. “So what changed politically then? I mean, between then and now.”

Orion narrowed his eyes for a moment before responding. “It is a subtle difference. Part of it is actually a major change in the Muggle world. The cold war is over, so the likelihood of total nuclear annihilation has been dramatically reduced.”

Sirius swallowed his bite. “I can imagine that would make a difference. Did they ever reunite Germany?”

“Yes. According to the papers it all came crashing down on the Soviets in the early 90’s. They simply couldn’t maintain their lumbering inefficiencies anymore and they fell apart. It was apparently quite emotional for both the muggle and magical communities of Germany when they finally tore down the wall.”

“Good. I am glad something good has happened while I was… where ever I was. That can’t be the only change though…”

Orion shook his head slightly. “No, you’re right. It’s not. And here I have to take Regulus word for it. According to him, it was the war itself which became its own best argument against itself. To give some context for this, the war has not been going on this entire time. It was actually put on a 13 year hiatus.”

Sirius cocked his head, his fork stopped halfway to his face as he turned a questioning look to his father.

“About 14 years ago, the dark lord was at the height of his power. It was, to use your mothers phrasing, a ‘bollocksed up shit-show’. Multiple pureblood lines were pushed to the brink of extinction, including ours. On top of that, over forty percent of the first generation magicals were wiped out. That second one was just beginning to have a rather catastrophic effect on the economy, as it became clear that purebloods may have all the privilege in our society, but they are quite the minority. A side effect of rising muggle populations is a surge in the last few generations of muggleborns as well. They had become, to the dismay of the old fogeys in the moot, nearly a quarter of our population, with their halfblood children making up almost half. Wiping out so many of them was causing havoc on the markets as entire supply chains and distribution centers were disrupted.

“Not to mention, the violence of the war itself was truly horrifying. At the height, the Death Eaters were casting unforgivables like they were stinging hexes. There were so many imperiused that the Ministry was basically at a standstill legislation wise while they tried to figure out how to tell if someone was working on something against their will. The chaos was unprecedented. Then, to the horror of everyone, new babes began appearing right and left on the tapestries of many older dark families, and it was coming out the number of half bloods sired without consent was disgustingly high. Many were culled before wizard family services could get to them, but the goblins were beginning to grow restless. You know, as odd as their morals may seem to wizards, they do agree with decent folk on the horror of rape and the murder of true innocents for no reason. We were on the verge of a full on goblin rebellion, and for the first time in history, it would have been purely for wizards crimes on other wizards. That is how far the taint of true evil had spread.”

“Fucking hell…” Sirius mumbled. He knew it was rapidly escalating, but the murder of literal babies was something he had a hard time believing. Orion gave Sirius a moment to process the information about the last couple of years of the war. Finally Sirius seemed to catch up with the cogs of his own brain. “So how did people put a stop to it for 13 years then?”

“Harry Potter did it, or should I say, the power bestowed on the boy by his parents willing sacrifice. The boy was a year old when the dark lord finally caught up to the Potters. I am uncertain of the exact details, but according to Regulus, there was a prophecy about the child, saying he would have powers the dark lord knows not, and would be marked as his equal, you know, typical ‘chosen one’ bullshit. The dark lord, not having a lick of actual sense by this point, decided that the boy needed to die and made that his primary mission, thus ensuring the prophecy became accurate. Really, what do they teach kids in that so called school anymore.”

Sirius chuckled a little. “Certainly not the realities of Divination, that is for certain.”

Orion’s nostrils flared. “Indeed.” He shook his head and sneered. Orion Black was on the Hogwarts Board of Governors in his time, and had established a bit of a reputation as someone who was always displeased with the state of things, even though others thought he was being a bit extreme in his views of how much he thought kids could learn.

“Anyways, the blundering psycho bumbled right into the prophecy face first. His own killing curse rebounded off the innocent babe and back onto him. Judging by the papers I had the elves read me, it was like the entire country woke up from a confundus. There was a slew of suicides among the dark factions that most didn’t seem to understand, though my personal theory is that once they were no longer under the spell of the ancient evil, they were too horrified at what they had done. That reduced the power of their entire political block. Others on both sides of the conflict could scarcely even describe why they had allowed things to go as far as they did. The did agree though, that they all had gone too far and they could never allow such horrors be permitted again. The Hit wizards were established, every single discovered marked Death Eater was thrown in Azkaban for life, and it became a social taboo to openly use the term mudblood. Several landmark pieces of legislation were passed for the protection of non-purebloods, and more Wisengamot seats were created for elected representatives.

While they put in place the mechanisms by which our society could feasibly move on and become more egalitarian, it still hasn’t solved the problem of the muggles themselves and how we are going to respond to the rising threat of discovery. That, and there is still a core of dunder-headed idiots who refused to learn a damn bloody thing and still insist on pure blooded supremacy to the point of culling muggleborns. They don’t even remember the true meaning of the term. These idiots have completely forgotten the old ways they claim to fight for.”

Sirius put his fork down, finished with breakfast, and wiped his mouth on the linen napkin before reaching for the pot of tea. A meal and a few glasses of juice had gone a long way towards making him feel completely recovered. Now all he needed was some caffeine to finish out. He took a deep breath of the steam after adding a single lump of sugar before taking a sip and sighing his pleasure at the simple comfort.

Silence reigned in the dining room as Sirius digested and Orion watched his eldest son drink his tea. Even considering the heavy topic of conversation, he could barely keep the small smile off his face. His eyes took in every move the young man made as if it were infinitely more fascinating than any of the books he had access to.

Sirius finally spoke up again as he was reaching for the pot to refill his tea. “So, you mentioned the war was only halted for 13 years. I take it nobody destroyed his horcruxes?”

“Right you are, son. He was resurrected by a necromancy ritual just last year. The ministry did it’s best to hide it, but of course failed rather spectacularly. The dark lord spent that year rallying his forces. He will be ready any time to continue his campaign.”

Sirius turned his entire chair to the side to face the painting full on, now that he was done eating. “So, I guess that brings us to the big galleon question. How and where do I fit into all of this?” he stared his father down, an abnormally intense look on his face.

Orion responded in kind. “You are to simply be what you were born to be. You, my son, are the greatest of all of us, the pride and joy of this family. We knew from the moment of your birth, you were a chosen of the family magic. The purpose for our being. You are, as of two days ago, a fully realized Confessor. The balance to the light, the teeth in the dark, the absolute truth of judgment. You must simply go where your magic leads and aid the Potter boy in his quest to vanquish the ancient evil.

“As to how you got here, that is a much less comfortable question to answer. It was all part of the plan Regulus and I made. You see, this is the time where you could do the most good. Where you will have the tools, along with young Potter, to truly save this country. If we had left your timeline alone, then you would have kept James Potter from dying for his son, and the savior of the wizarding world would have never been created. So we took you out of your timeline and covered our tracks.

“You saw your portrait?”

Sirius quickly glanced at the life sized empty portrait on the other side of the room, then back to his father with a slight nod.

Orion slumped down a little, clasping his hands in front of himself and frowning at them. He looked the picture of remorse. “What Regulus and I did to you destroyed this family, to the point that you are the only one left of the main branch.”

With a deep sigh he looked back up into his sons abnormally stoic gaze. “While you were home for Easter during your fifth year, I had a painter paint your portrait secretly while you slept. When the moon was in the proper phase, I enacted an ancient ritual to put you in stasis in the portrait itself. To the common observer, your picture appeared to be a normal painting, simply waiting for your death to awaken as is common for these things. The reality was that the Sirius sleeping in the portrait was the real you.

Of course I couldn’t leave it like that. It would have drawn far too much attention that something was going on. So, Reg and I took some of your blood before the ritual, and used it to tie your core to a golum of you. Since it used your magic, direct from your core from within the painting, and had your wand and blood, it was basically indistinguishable to every form of detection except for ancient family based magics which worked off of the soul, the only part of you we couldn’t replicate. It had all your memories, emotions, skills… everything but that which made your true immortal essence. I then tied the portrait to the lifeline of the golum.”

Throughout this explanation, Sirius felt his eyes widen to near comical proportions. His hand was frozen on his teacup, hovering about an inch above the table. He could hear his heartbeat begin to pound in his ears again. He noticed he was panting slightly when he finally interrupted his father’s explanation. “So, you’re telling me not only did you freeze me for twenty years, you replaced me with a soulless himonculus?”

Orion flinched slightly at the arctic tone his son directed at him. “Yes.” Was all he responded with.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Sirius shouted, leaping to his feat. “Without a soul it could have done any number of horrible things! And that’s before I even get started on the initial power requirement for the body and known deficiencies and mental degradation issues which plague himonculi! Who shared the power load with you? And who watched the bastard over the years to make sure it didn’t do anything stupid?!” he ranted, before staring incredulously at his father.

Orion got a steely look on his face and clenched his hands harder before him before answering. “I was thinking that this was far more important than whatever I paid in cost. And nobody helped me with the power load for its’ creation. I did it on my own. I know it was dangerous, and I know it is the reason my core was damaged to the point that it led to my death, barely three years later, but again. It. Was. Worth. It.”

Sirius rage evaporated as quickly as it came, replaced just as quickly by a stinging in his eyes he desperately fought.

“As for your other question, nobody watched it, and it did do something stupid. Many stupid things in fact. While it did an admirable job replacing you, some were never fooled. Your grandfathers for one, your mother for another. She drove herself mad trying to find the real you before her death. She hated your clone with a passion. She didn’t even fight the ministry when they threw it in Azkaban without a trial for crimes it didn’t even commit. She died before the thing escaped. Her sorrow at losing both of her boys was too much, and her magic turned on her.”

Sirius held up a hand to stop him as he collapsed back into his chair. Orion didn’t stop though.

“Regulus had to resort to drugging Potter to keep him from realizing you weren’t the real you, especially after the thing attempted to commit murder using your friend Lupin as the murder weapon. His faith in you was so great he never once believed you were capable of doing such a thing. Your mother had to discreetly cover up several scandals involving young witches your double treated rather callously, as well as a couple of witches who attempted to pass off illegitimate children as yours. That bit was particularly laughable when one considers goloms are incapable of creating life. Your double did do an admirable job as an auror, surprisingly, though his reputation for having a short fuse and being incredibly impulsive ended up catching up with him. He was also a rather horrible judge of character, unlike you. Because of that, he had no idea that your rat friend Pettigrew was in fact a spy for the dark lord, and because of that, the Potters died and he was framed for it.”

By this point, Sirius had his head buried in his hands, elbows on his knees, and low key hyperventilating. Peter betrayed them? How could he?!

“Pettigrew again got the better of him when the creature cornered the rat on a muggle street. He blew up the street and framed you for thirteen additional counts of homicide, which landed you in Azkaban for twelve years. It eventually escaped, but not to fulfill his duties as godfather to young Harry. No. It was to find and kill Pettigrew. Because of his irresponsible and reckless behavior, Harry had to grow up with muggle relatives who I know neglected him, possibly beat him. And to top it off, the incompetent didn’t even manage in three years living on the lamb to get a trial arranged for himself to clear his name. He lived totally in the now. Even allowed Dumbledore to manipulate every aspect of his life. It was pathetic by the end, not even able to best Bellatrix in combat after her own escape of a 14 year stint in Azkaban.”

Orion finally finished talking and fell silent while Sirius tried desperately to pull himself back together. As he hyperventilated on his chair he could barely conceive the fact that all of this information had been dumped on him in only two days. Two days, and twenty years, and everything had gone to shit. Literally everything he cared for was gone. Well, everything his father had mentioned at least. He was frankly terrified to ask about the fates of his other friends. He knew not asking wouldn’t change it if it was more bad news, but he just didn’t think he could handle any other horrible tidings.

Slowly, piece by piece, he cobbled back together his occlumency, carefully arranging all of the information they had discussed so far behind his shields. He eventually felt his heart rate decrease and his breathing even out. He pried his fingers from where they were locked in his hair. With one final calming breath he sat back up and looked back at his fathers portrait.

Orion was gazing at his son, his own posture not too far off from the stiff stance Sirius now wore. After a few moments of silence, he again began speaking. “I am sorry I don’t have much good news to give you. That is most of the relevant news you need to be caught up to when you awoke two days ago. At this point, I am not sure how you would like to proceed. Your brother and I only planned to this point. Anything beyond here is all in your hands. For what it’s worth, your mother and I missed you so much. It hurt every day knowing I would never see your true self again. You are the part of my legacy I am the most proud of, son. I know you can defeat this foe and build a good life for yourself. I am certain of it.”

Sirius felt a warmth spread through his chest at his fathers words as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His father was never one to give out empty words or false compliments. He was honest to the point of brutality. He also expected nothing less than the absolute best from his children. For that reason, compliments were hard to come by, as the man could always tell if there was any measure of slacking involved. Sirius didn’t think he would ever outgrow the feeling of absolute pride when his father finally did give him that inch of validation.

“Thank you for informing me Father.” He ran his hand through his hair and relaxed back into the deceptively comfortable dining chair. “I think at this point the best thing to do would be to gather intel, unfreeze the house, and make a plan for this war… I should probably brush up on the readings for the family magics too. I remember reading them, but it feels so different than I thought it would.”

Orion blinked and leaned forward a bit. “Oh? How so?”

Sirius took a sip of tea and squinted at nothing in particular while he took stock of the feelings roiling inside of him. He could still feel the magic there, though it seemed to have settled somewhat. He did his best to order his thoughts on the matter into coherent sentences. “It feels dark, and hot… volatile even. Like I have a bottle of lightning in my chest and the glass is only just holding it. I feel like it is seeking something, but I cant tell what yet. When I find whatever it is, I am not entirely sure I will know how to hold it back.” He paused, looking down at his hands, noting the almost tingly sensation tickling under his skin. “It’s exactly the opposite of how my core normally feels. Usually it’s there, and if I want to use it I have to concentrate to bring it forward. This magic feels more like it will need to be constantly held back.”

Orion nodded thoughtfully. “I think it may be in your best interest to take at least a few days to orient yourself to this new time and your new power. Read through the reports the elves bring you, and brush up on your family history in the library. Go to the Manor’s core and attune to the ward stone so you can pull it from stasis. You are the lord now, it should be easy, then you can make the house more comfortable. You have had a trying couple of days, and adding more to your burdens right now doesn’t seem healthy. Things aren’t so urgent that you are needed immediately.”

Sirius nodded. “Maybe you’re right. The Manor certainly needs some attention, and it will at least make everything else that much more bearable if I have a comfortable home to base out of.”

The boy stood and nodded to his father. “I think I will head to the house’s core now, then off to the library. We can talk more at lunch.”

With that he left the dining room to get started on the task of getting ready to rejoin the world.

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#Sirius Black #Sirius needs a hug #Orion Black #Regulus Black #wizarding society #wizarding politics #Black Family

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mandareeboo · 3 years

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SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not.

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me.

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky.

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster.

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs!

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly.

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong.

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

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sneezemonster15 · 3 years

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I am new to Naruto fandom. Even newer to SNS fandom. I observed the shipping wars, and frankly, participated in it a couple of times. Just to see what it's all about. And I have come to one conclusion.

It's bonkers how far one will go to convince oneself about one's shipping whether it makes sense or not. At the end of the day, it becomes not really about the content itself, but one's comprehension and understanding of content. Which helps me understand why SS, NH, or NS stans exist. Their projection (which it certainly is) almost seems delusional and definitely inconsistent with the content itself.

When I first started watching Naruto, I wasn't aware of Naruto fandom. I am a cinephile and I am used to analysing content involuntarily while I am watching it. I wasn't expecting much from Naruto, I definitely underestimated it and wasn't expecting any emotional impact given it was shonen and I am very hard to please (yes, I am a film elitist). But as I kept watching it, I had to grudgingly change my opinion. By the time I reached Shippuden, I could tell that I was almost fevered with excitement and looking forward to more emotional impact.

I didn't watch it with any romantic lens, I was mostly interested in the fighting sequences initially. Hell, that's all I was expecting from a shonen show about ninjas. But at the end of vote 1, I was like, hmmm. What?? This was so emotionally wracking. Are they really just rivals, or friends? Now, I am a fully fledged cinephile and have watched a lot (a. Lot.) of LGBTQ films, given my interest in shows about emotional and sexual repression. And throughout my first watch of the first part, I kept picking up on the subtle sns moments without actively thinking about them. I was really into the story and wanted to see what will happen next. But at the end of vote 1, I had to stop and think, wait what, are they in love with each other? They are definitely not just friends. Or rivals. The language of their interaction in vote 1 is so fraught with underlying currents of repressed emotions that it just made the cinephile in me ask, what am I watching exactly? Like isn't it shonen (I am also relatively new to anime/manga) where gay relationships are a strict nono? Like why does it have all the tropes of repressed homosexuality in men, just like all the films I had seen. The way Naruto and Sasuke constantly gravitate to each other, their interactions at times feel like a borderline attempt at just staying close to each other, their violent, strong feelings and devotion for each other (land of waves arc) and then denial of those feelings (after the land of waves arc), their contant physical fights for no apparent reason, Sasuke goading Naruto for no apparent reason especially when Sasuke is not the type to talk without reason which had been made abundantly clear. Sometimes, it literally felt like he was flirting with Naruto (during the chuunin exams) while rejecting Sakura. Sasuke constantly appears to be caring and attentive towards Naruto while treating Sakura like trash. This was even acknowledged by Naruto who asks Sasuke to be nicer to Sakura. But Sasuke doesn't even think about it. He instead flirts (?) with Naruto. It made me think, why did the writer choose to do that? Why make it clear that in hierarchy, Sasuke keeps Naruto much higher than Sakura, so early in the show (when there hasn't been so much development either, we were mostly shown how they keep fighting and arguing with each other)? If they are supposed to just be comrades or friends, why pinpoint this? Why use this trope at all if it's about friendship, especially in a show that can't include a gay relationship.

And this kept happening consistently. The writer made the interaction between Sasuke and Naruto to be major turning points in the plot. Vote 1 fight made it clear to me that there was something more going on, but I didn't want to be presumptuous, so I kept it on the side and kept watching.

After watching Shippuden, I was convinced that none of it, was accidental. The writer painstakingly wrote a gay love story and was even obvious about it in a very clever way. Like he fucking got away with writing a gay love story in shonen. I know Naruto is basically a kids' show meant for entertainment purposes, but it touched so many important, dark and adult themes. I knew that it would be difficult for the writer to actually give a proper conclusion to these themes because they really aren't that black and white or even appropriate for children. So I wasn't surprised that he couldn't actually show peace being achieved after the war arc or slavery abolished in Hyuuga clan.

But one thing I was sure of. He wanted to show a gay love story, maybe out of a twisted sense of humor, I don't know. But that's what he did. He could not have made it clearer. He flagrantly used all the related tropes, visuals, sound, dialogues, hell the story. The fucking story...

He was so shrewd about it too. He made it so that people can take away whatever they wanted to take away from it as long as there was some plausible deniability about things that weren't made clear in the show itself. That fucking minx! But he knew that anyone who watches shit carefully, will be able to see what he actually did. He knew that at least some of us will be able to connect the dots. He went out of his way to make sure we connect the dots. There is no other way to explain why Sasuke repeatedly kept asking Naruto why he cared for him so much. There's no other way to explain why he concluded everything with the dialogue where Naruto explains that he hurts when Sasuke does. There's no other way to explain why that affected Sasuke to such an extent. Kishimoto went out of his way, like seriously, to tell the audience that they are Not just 'friends'. He basically used this friend thing with so much saturation and intent in such a twisted way that he made it into something else entirely. In that sense, the concept of 'friend' changed its meaning. Like you can try, but you can't change my mind about it.

Whether I approve it or not, but my takeaway from content depends mostly on the content itself. I do believe that more often than not, the simplest explanation is the right one. And this applies to the phenomenon of Naruto as well. Of course, as a viewer, I can't ignore that my suspension of belief relies on my own understanding of the external world and how I perceive visual language. But that is something that happens anyway, in tandem with consuming the content, while I was pretty much consistently objective about it.

I believe I have a pretty good understanding of how cinematic language works, and I know every creative or narrative choice has a reason and meaning behind it. Absolutely None of it is random. Cinematic language may not be universal in terms of styles, but all the styles definitely have a common ground. And any creator worth his salt knows it, he knows how his content will be perceived and what it is exactly that he wants to show or say. Do not delude yourself that it was accidental or on a whim.

I know for a fact that Kishomoto wanted to show a gay love story. I know for a fact that he wanted to show that Sasuke has feelings for Naruto and he knows it. He also wanted to show that Sasuke not only had feelings for Naruto but also knew that he couldn't show them openly. He wanted to show that Naruto has feelings for Sasuke as well but is confused and naive, like he is about so many other things. He wanted to show us that Sasuke is not into Sakura, that he doesn't even respect her. Any enthusiast of visual/cinematic language and narrative can tell all the above things without going into headcanon or deluded explanations (like SS, NH stans), with just on the basis of content they consumed.

At the end of the day, I don't ship SNS because it's in my head. I was forced to see and believe SNS by the creator. Not forced literally but forced to notice and acknowledge the emphasis and meaning of the twisted/manipulative ways of the creator.

Kishimoto, hats off to you, you sly bastard. You succeeded in trolling people endlessly, you had a lot of fun pitting people against each other, didn't you? Hahahahaha. Well, I call your bluff/or non bluff in this case since you obviously knew what you were doing.

#narutomanga #narusasu #naruto #sasuke #sasunaru #sns #shippuden #shippudennaruto #naruto shippuden #sasunarusasu

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hitoshisbabygirl · 3 years

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Author's Notes ♡:Sooooo I wrote this once with no mythological background and it was so blank because one I half read and two it had no pizzazz. So here I am...enjoying this collab wholeheartedly. For some context the readers dad is Dionysus, yknow the festive, wine maker? So I tried to incorporate that with being a potions maker! Rappa is based on a mix between Behemoths and the Kusarikku, so i wanted him just a big and a bull man hybrid but not fully a Minotaur! I hope whoever reads this enjoy it as much as I did writing it! (Also I’m slowly realizing how much I hope this man)~ bunny ❥

Here’s the lovely masterlist of the others beautiful arts!

Warnings : NSFW again! (◎_◎;)

A use of pet names l, uh some heavy size kink (if you know who I based him on, also is one of my kinks showing yet) , Needy Rappa, breeding, Light cursing, a bit of a pussy job, female oral and a bit of overstimulation.

Word count : About 6.5k (ooof) !

Paring(s) : Bullman! Kendo Rappa x F!Reader

Summary : Being a demigod had perks, you could travel, you had god and goddesses as siblings and family members and of course the power! But what happens when you have to help a stubborn farm...pet?

Enjoy ♡

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Growing up as a demigods daughter who owned a garden on earth was one experience. All types of people, gods, goddesses and hybrids needed her experience with all sorts of plants and other things from nature ; rather it be for healing medicines , a bouquet for an upset lover or for help with livestock growth, [ ] and her parents helped with every little working class they could. As [ ] went from child to young adult she was used to her fair share of men from every place asking for her attention. A human asking for her hand and giving her the bare minimum, a god, wanting to make her a goddess, or just simply flirting to warrant her attention. But alas to them all she gave them no leadway, keeping her same polite smile and overall sweetness to each and every person she dealt with. On a warm day in the heavens as she walked the sky castles grounds she ran into a farmhand, one she remembered worked for Demeter approached her hesitantly, his eyes wandering to the young maidens “U-uh M-miss [ ] right?” The male asked her , her eyebrow raising as a silent answer “Lady Demeter would like to speak with you, she need some help but she did not tell me exactly what” he said with a bow and soon turned to leave. Wondering what the goddess could want she headed to her ranch, watching the cattle and other animals graze. Suddenly the door swung wide, revealing the deity to her “[ ] my favorite niece how are you love!” The tall woman sing songingly yelled, hugging the wide eyed girl “Hello Auntie Dem, im quite alright! Uhm, what seems to be the problem? One of your hands came to get me” [ ] said as she took in the ranch home her harvesting aunt had, all sorts of gains, wheats, fruits and more spewed about in her living room “Ah yes! Your father told me how great youve become with your potions and mixes of herbs, being the daughter of Dionysus im not surprised! I told him to let you grow and do more now look at you, serving us gods and mortals alike!” Demeter went on, handing her confused niece a large apple as she took one for herself. Becoming her to a table by the window they both sat, eating on their fruit as she explained her issue.

“You see, i have a lot of cattle, different kinds, different kins and legacies, but im a bit stuck. My favorite mare, had a child a little while ago and he seemed to just be your average bull at first….but..as time went on he out grew his father, my prized minotaur bull and even his normal cow and bull family.” Taking a glance to the field they watched as the minotaur children and some sheep danced and played, other average cow cults running to join. Sighing Demeter continued “Hes a hybrid, my prized minotaur as his father and well, my biggest and prized heifer as his mother. He wont come out of the shed, doesnt deal with his other kind, minotaur or not. Hes around your age now, getting to be his prime but..he wont converse in the fields. Both his father and mother voiced concerns to me about his health but when i checked on him, hes fine! Fields away under a sun and away from my younger and ready cows! I dont get it! Maybe because hes more human than he is bull, he does have a human face and even body, just taht everything below is...well bull. Tail, those wonderful breeding-” “Auntie!” Before she could finish [ ] was hushing the woman, waving her arms “I get it i get it Bull bottom human top i dont need to hear about his loins!” She pleaded.

Laughing, the goddess reached to a pile of hay, whistling to feed some of the nearby cows “Ah you silly girl, I was only gloating about my finest bull yet! I even tried bringing him mortals but...he crushed them, saying they were too small. Every single one! Younger older it didnt matter, he wanted nothing to do with them and just squashed them like a bug under his hoofs! I'm at my wits end, Im not sure what he needs, and hes so large i cant just let him walk around the palace place, he intimidates the clerks and huffs when talked to!” Dramatically laying against the table she looked to the thinking girl, her eyes shining with an idea “Hey auntie, how about you take me to him, i can see if hes loss any weight or seems sickly anywhere. Where do you think hed be at this time?” [ ] asked “Ah you brave girl, what time is it, almost high noon? He might be in the field but its the one with my giant tree that he likes” Demeter responded, pointing to a large tree up a few fields with nothing much around it but luhs grass. “Doesnt even matter if i put up a fence, he walks on two legs so he just hops over it” She sighed again as the duo headed outside.

Seeing a tall minotaur coming towards them [ ] stopped along Demeter, her goddess aunt speaking “Ah Milvor, how are you and Altine?” “Lady Demeter and I'm guessing this is [ ], we are fine. The misses is in the field now, seeing if she can see our boy” He said. Realizing that this was the after for her case [ ] spoke up “Uhm sir have you noticed anything amiss with er-” “Kendo, his name is Kendo” The Minatour said “Ah yes with Kendo, anything seem to be hurt or missing from his way of life” She asked. “Well..not particularly. Hes always fought some of the other males here so bruises and marks are a common thing we see from him. Besides a broken horn he doesn't have anything major going on. Just that he refuses to be around anyone here. Even us at times when were out with the others” He said solemnly , looking at the girl. Grabbing her hands he pleaded “Please, help our son? I know he can be rude and dismissive but down there our sweet boy is in there, were worried sick about him” Milvor said, a sad moo coming from his approaching wife “Miss i do appreciate you checking on him, I just hope he'd be home soon” A half cow women spoke , coming beside this Kendo’s father “Well i'll do my best, it doesnt sound like hes too hurt or anything serious so i'll make sure to try and get him to be with you both” Giving a reassuring smile [ ] started off, heading to the tree at the top of them hill. Just before she got far Demeter called to her, handing her sweet wheat “Heres some of his snack, he sometimes will come back if we offer him more” She said. Taking the wheat and putting it in the side of her flowing peplos. Soon with enough treading uphill , she got close to the tree , soon seeing a tail swish from in front of the tree. Hesitantly she walked forward before seeing hooved legs, also covered in black fur, pop out from the tree. Placing a hand at the side that had no person on it she peeked over to in fact , find a rather giant back in the sun, small flecks of freckles on the toned skin. Holding her gift closer she walked to the male before hearing a snort “ ‘M tellin’ ya Elinor I dont want nothin’ to do with ya, go on, go back to the heard” A rough and deep voice said, a larger hand coming up to wave off whoever was behind him. Feeling a bit bad for this mysterious Elinor and offended, she was brushed off [ ] walked closer , standing at the ends of his legs until the male growled. “I told ya to-'' Stopping himself from yelling once he turned around he was surprised to find not hybrid named Elinor but in fact the small [ ] her eyes widening as amber ones looked down “Yer not Elinor” He said as [ ] giggled “And im guessing youre Kendo” She said as the bull sat up, cruising his legs and the curious woman in front of her. “Whos askin?”

He huffed as [ ] looked at him as she did the same , sitting across from the hybrid “A…. doctor of sorts. Your parents, along with Goddess Demeter asked me to come check on you, see how youre doing” she said as he huffed again “ ‘M fine, now why did they send you” He said as he watched her pull things out, paper , a quill, ink and is that..? Pointing to the bustle of wheat he called out “Is that… for me?” Blinking [ ] looked at the almost childish Kendo, smiling as she untied the snack “It is for you, I heard you liked it. Brought it in the hopes youd talk to me?” She questioned, holding a piece out for him to take. Hesitantly he did, gnawing at it as he hummed in delight, his tail swishing. “ So uhm… Doc what do want to know” He asked, watching as the smaller girl touched his chest and arms, squeezing lightly as she wrote down different things “If ya wanted to touch me ya shouldve asked” He teased, taking his own hand to her face. Felling he face warm up she moved back, poking him with a finger “Now now be good im just seing if youre injured. Besides that horn, do you have anything broken or doenst feel well?” She asked as she waved a pisces of wheat, making him focus. “Nah, im as fit as a fiddle” Side eyeing his response she still gave him a piece , hearing him hum in delight as she wrote more notes.

“So no injuries, no pain , nothing?” shaking his head he continued to eat , taking some pieces from her bundle as she reached for the uneatten pieces “Hey! No you get these as a reward for answering me not to eat at your leisure!” She scolded. Reaching as far as she could she grabbed at his hand before he lifted them higher, smirking “Well miss doc i want what i want, and I want my snack” He said before she grabbed his arm, poking a manicured nail at it hand “Well Kendo ill let you have it if you tell me whats wrong, without covering it up deal?” Feeling him flinch at her poking she did it again until he moved away , glaring at her through his bangs that hung low “Fine! Stop poking me though, ya nails hurt! And theres nothing wrong, i just dont like ‘em cows! They stink!” He said as he knelt closer, moving her from his arm. “They stink? How old are you 5? Why do they stink!” [ ] huffed back as he chewed more of his treat, looking to the flustered girl “Im 22 in human years little girl , and like i said they stink! Reeks like open sores and meat” He said as he kept eating , laying in the sun. Thinking over his words it dawned in her what he could be talking about “And what do i smell like Kendo?” [ ] asked, catching the half bull off guard “I dunno, you dont stink, Neither does lady Dem” He said as he turned to her. Leaning over she gave him a piece of wheat again but this time, pushing herself a bit forward, watching as his body shook before he took the piece , eating it. “Well Kendo, my name is [ ] and ill be checking on you moreoften okay? I need to run down to the house but ill be back if that's okay with you?” Silently he shook his head, watching her run off as he opened his still crossed legs, feeling himself unsleeth as he groaned ‘Shit...now why am I gettin turned on’ he thought to himself, rubbing away what he could before the girl came back

As soon as she got to the farm she was met with the eyes of the worrying three, the first to speak being his mother Altine “Oh! [ ] youre back!” She said, the bell on her neck dangling as she ran to the fence “How is my boy? Kendo is he alright?” she asked as Demeter and Milvor came soon after for the report “Well maam i can confirm he is healthy, not is wrong with him the only thing is..” [ ] hesitated as she looked at them “He might have a heat approaching, is this his first one by any chance?” SHe asked as they all looked at eachother, Demeter speaking up “Well not exactly, this is why I kept bringing mortals up here, he wouldnt mate with the cows, and even other hybrids! Nothing! Hed turn his nose up at them all and go back to that field. He actually broke that horn of his fighting a bull from a neighboring farm who wanted to cow that was trying to get his attention” Demeter said, sigh as she saw her nieces blank face , afraid she overwhelmed her “Its alright if you dont think hes fixable [ ] i can-” “No hes fine. I can help him, and i think it wont be that hard either” [ ] said, giving the group a smile. “Watch him for a few days for me , im gonna go back up there with him, see how he is then come back in a few days with some of my things, ill stay here as long as need be to help your son” She said as she gave them all a smile, going inside to get her something to eat. Soon she hear her aunt appear, shuffling about to give her a basket to put her things in “Here, Im so gald helping him is a easy fix” She said sighing happily as she continued “I know he should mate on his own time, but im more concerned for his heath of it all, he doesnt even release into anyone or even by himself” Glancing towards her auntie she took in a breath before saying something “Well, i know it has to be bad now, he even said the er, cow women here stink, so their hormone have to be covered with other bulls or maybe he genuinely doesnt see appeal with them” [ ] said. Thinking it over Demeter gave her an almost alarming look “Well if thats the case just as you arrived he asked me what i was cooking, that something smelt good. I told him I didnt have anything and he just retreated back to his part of the barn before leaving for the field again.” Slowly [ ] realized she might be in for more than she imagines but brushed it off. “Interesting..” She said as she took her full basket “I have an idea, im gonna see if his heat hits its peaking times in a few days, I do plan on staying here if youd have me here?” She asked as a delighted look spread across Demeter’s face “Of course dear child! I missed having you around! Your Father was bad at bringing you over, him and his festivals” Demeter huffed before she poked her nieces cheek “Besides! We can have a girls night, or well er, weeks depending!” She said as the laughed together “Well it's a deal!”

Heading back up the hill she saw that Kendo had moved, facing a running river as he sast in the sun once more, looking content. [ ] smirked to herself before grabbing some of the things she had ; a brush, a lavish soap and a towel. Heading to where the behemoth of a hybrid laid she noticed his ear twitched, before he opened an eye to look back at her. “Hey Doc, ya back.” He said as she gave him a smile, sitting beside his head “Why yes I am. You seem to be enjoying yourself” She teased as he smirked, turning to face her. “Well i do enjoy the sun, keeps me warm nd my hair soft.” Looking him over again she noticed that his hair was always up in a bun but his bangs covering his eyes, a different hue of color, more of a rustic red than his black furred legs. “Well about that...Im gonna give you a bath!” the giant bull flinched at her words, seeing the happy look gracing her face “Oi now look, ‘m fine i dont need no bath” He argued as she pouted “Why sure you do! I know you dont go when the others get theirs, and if that bun of yours is any indication, you need to wash all of that dirt and grime off. Now let me help you” She barked back, pointing the soft looking brush towards his face. He stood up, now overthrowing the girls height as he pointed a finger at her “Now look, I like being this way, it keeps those girls offa me if you clean me now they wont leave me alone!” [ ] sighe before stepping closer, pointing her own small hand at his face, moving closer “Now you listen to me Kendo, I have things to help keep them off of you, this is for your own health! I can leave you here, dirty but your hair and fur is gonna get so matted theyll have to shave you!”

At hearing a potential that hed be shave Kendo flinched, moving his bangs so his soft eyes could meet her determined ones “Theyll shave me? Ion wanna be like the sheep” he said she she gave him a satisfied look. “Well go into the water then and ill make sure you wont!” Reluctantly he sighed, walking into the river as she followed behind, pinning her longer robe so it wouldnt get too wet as she sat at the side of the river. Holding a hand out she waved him closer, the male coming to her as she undid his hair. To her utter surprise it fell down his shoulders, stopping just short of his waist. Gently she pushed his bangs back to see his pretty amberish eyes looking up to her [ ]’ed ones. He had a typical Bull hook through his nose , the gold shining in the warm sun. He was quite handsome, sun kissed skin and a clear face, broad shoulders and a nice body. Even with his mostly human body his horns, tail and ears were bull, on top of his legs and...neithers , that were covered in fur. Softly she traced a scar under his eye, the wound slightly tender as he jumped from the touch. Going to her wrist she tied a string to hold his long bangs up, a giggle falling from her lips as he almost looked like a younger child getting a bath “What're you lookin at me like that for” He huffed as she laughed more, pushing his face together “You look like an upset child is all. Now go ahead and dip in the water for me , ill scrub you after.” Listening to her, Kendo dropped watching as some of the debris and dirt washed off around him as he stood up, shaking his hair “Good enough?” He asked as she shook her head, pouring some of the sopa on the brush as she started to was his chest,making sure to scrub him as clean as she could from land. Sensing her struggle he reached to her, lifting her over his body as she squealed “Sorry, you were just strugglin so i thought i'd help you” Kendo said as [ ] hesitantly started to wash as much as she could, tapping his arm anytime she needed to move. Being up there did help, she was able to was his horns and his hair, revealing the rust orange and copper hair underneath. Surprised she ran her finger though it, giving him a shy smile. “See dont you feel a bit better?” She asked as he shyly nodded, noticing how her clothes clinged to her chest. He reached to put her back on land, coming out of the water himself as he allowed her to scrb his legs and hoofs, the dull black fur coming to life as he watched in awe. She didnt mind helping him, still came to bother him when he said he didnt want help and now she was bathing him. Kendo mulled over how helpful she was, and realized she was more comforting than most. After scrubbing his hoofs shiny she tapped his legs, signaling she was done.

“All right! Now that youre all clean and such Ill make sure you stay this way okay Kendo?” [ ] said as she went back to the basket, pulling out two apples. The bull in question watched as she came back to him, handing him the other one “Here ya go! Thought you could use something sweet” kendo took the apple from the girl, before biting into it, thanking hier softly as they sat in silence. Soon [ ] spoke up, breaking their silet aurora “So...ill be around here the next few days or so, ill probably stay longer, giving how nice it is” She laughed, looking at the curious male beside her “Dont be afraid to ask me for anything okay? Im here to help you” With that Kendo nodded, going back to the apple. Quietly Kendo touched her arm, making [ ] look to him as an unfamiliar look went over his face. Gently herself, [ ] put her hand on his, shaking her head as a signal for him to talk. “Would you mind...pettin me?” he asked before [ ]’s eyes went wide. Now feeling a bit more embarrassed he spoke up again “I have problems going to sleep, ‘ts why i like it out here in the sun, its warm , nd comforting…” Pausing he continued after he got his words together. “You do the same thing like the sun. Youre warm...comforting.. And make me feel sleepy...so if you pet me...ill be comforted to sleep..its what my mama did, but im too big to be in her lap” With that kendo finished, glancing to the girl who gave him a soft look “Of course i can! I have to get pick some more clothes up but once i get back, I can stay with you out here.” Shaking his head Kendo looked back to the river “Ya dont have to sleep outside with me just...put me to sleep” Unable to stop herself [ ] hugged his arm, looking at him through her lashes “Oh cmon you big baby, I dont mind it! Havent slept under the stars since i was a kid!” Brushing off her dress she ran a hand though his thick locs of hair, giving him another warm hug “Ill be back before sundown, now you be good” And with that he watched as his new found friend walked down the hill.

As promised she brought a blanket and joined him, laying under the tree as the large male went to sleep on her lap, contently humming as [ ] ran her fingers through his hair, making Kendo groan as he fell asleep like mentioned, hugging her thighs as he slept the most comfortable he had in weeks. Watching the hybrid sleep she saw all types of scars, some down his back , others on his chest. A few on his arms and only one on his face, plus the broken horn. He obviously got himself into different groups of problems, but he was sweet, not as curt as he expected. Running her fingers down his back she watched him shiver, going to wrap his arms higher around her torso. Giggling as softly as she could [ ] started to braid his hair back in his sleep, the moving under her ceasing as he was well resting once more. Thinking to herself ‘ If he’ll be like this it should be a breeze to help him.’ Oh how wrong she was.

A few days passed with little to no incident , [ ] going around helping with the daily chore and hanging out with her deity auntie. As the two of them sat in the living quarters, drinking a mixed juice that her father set them they heard a bell appear towards the window, it being Kendo’s mother “I'm so sorry to bother you , but i think something is gravely wrong. Kendo is whining in the shed, earlier he even started to-” Before she could finish a thumb came from his shed, followed by a groan “and that, he's been head butting his room” sitting up [ ] looked to his shed, seeing the door shut but large banging still coming from inside “Hey Auntie, is it alright if we could move him to the other field? I dont want his lashing to accidentally hurt anyone here” Coming besides [ ] Demeter chewed at her lip, thinking “Well, if we can stop him then yes, I'd get the boys to move it quickly”. With that answer [ ] got up, heading to the rocking shed. Taking in a breath she knocked, hearing that the groans subsided. The door slowly creaked open, showing a heaving Kendo “[ ].....?” He whispered, looking over her body as she reached to his forehead, pressing her hand against it. Hot, way too hot. “Kendo, sweetie come with me okay? We’re gonna go to the fields and we're gonna move your shed there okay?” Silently he nodded, coming out of his place. He was gasping, chest heaving as his eyes swirled a darker color than normal. Taking the outstretched hand of [ ] his larger fingers curled against it, following the light pull of the girl. Softly, He nudged her back “ ‘M hot..” he said as she looked back at him, making sure the fever wasn't wearing him down. He gave her a weak smile, rubbing the back of her hand “ ‘M alright princess, just hot” Kendo said as she noted how his voice dropped octaves. “Well theyre gonna bring a bigger shed for you out here and ill check on you every hour. Does anything hurt?” [ ] asked as they walked up the hill “Nah, but my horns are ackey.” “Is that why you were bashing them on the shed?” “Yeah...its like trying to scratch an itch you can reach” Kendo sighed, seeing his usual tree coming into view. As the duo got there he dramatically fell under it, pulling [ ] with him. “K-kendo! Careful!” she fussed as he let go of her apologizing as he drifted to sleep. Soon some of the workers had started working on the new roomed shed for him , finishing just before sundown as they would inform Demeter of where she was.

Gently pushing the deep sleeping boy from her lap she went to his new place, checking everything out. It was more of a small home than a shed, filled with a huge bed and a nice aesthetic to them, the touch of the goddess laced through the look of the place. Going around to sort some of the things they brought for Kendo, [ ] felt a presence behind her “whats all this..” the groggy bull said, ducking down to walk into his lavish bedroom “Your new home! I had them build something spacious but also not overwhelming, and these white are just so lovely.” [ ] kept talking as she soon felt two large arms wrap around her torso “ Ya did this for little ol me..?” He whispered as she ran a hand over his forearm. “I did...you need somewhere to relax in this state” She responded, trying to get from his grasp as he tighten it “Uh uh dont leave...tell me whats wrong with me doc..why cant I stop feeling hot...and anytime you come around I...cant help myself” He ended with a groan , burying his face in the shorter girls neck “Well once im sure of you being in a state of need ill be back okay? Just...relax for me and i promise ill be back.” finally convincing him to let go of her waist, not without a pained groan as he went to the bed, hazy eyes glancing over the short dress wearing girl “Get some more rest okay? Im gonna get something to eat and ill be back in the morning. Call me if you need me okay?” [ ] said as he just groaned a meek response, turning to his side.

Earlier the next morning [ ] woke up to an empty house. Stretching she found a neatly written note with some food on the table

Dearest Niece, Im currently headed to your Uncle Poseidon's place, I should be back some time later ; an update on Kendo, hes been begging for you all day, wont let anyone touch him or check on him. He should be awake now but do be warned ; He’s a lot more scatterbrained than usual

Auntie Demeter

Reading over the note again [ ] sighed, putting on her more comfortable and workable dress as she headed up to his new little house on his hill, the sound of groaning and whines coming to her ears as she got to his door. Seeing it ajar she pushed it open slightly, the place dark except from a crack of light coming from the window. Going to the shades she opened them, hearing a hiss from the bed. “Kendo its me..[ ]?” She called out as the wild set of hair came into view. He was even more disheveled, eyes filled over as he looke to the girl before growling, crawling out of the bed to her. With a gasp she was in his arms, body shaking as she was met with unnaturally feral eyes from the boy. “You left me yesterday..” he rapeseed out, burying his face in her neck again as she grabbed at his thick neck “Kendo honey, i told you id be back this morning didnt i?” She calmly said as he held her tighter, pushing her chest to his “Dont care, ‘ts too long” Realizing why he was so needy [ ] tried to reason with him “Well im sorry love, here lets sit down on the bed” Trying to get him to move she walked forward only to feel something large and hot push into her bare thigh. Nervously she looked down only to be faced to what she feared it was ; His hanging member. A wicked laugh came from above her as she was met with his ever lust driven eyes, a hand of his going to cup her ass and pull her closer “See what you left me with? No matter how hard i fuck my fist i cant cum, it wont come out” He whined and burried his face again, rocking himself on her thigh “Please ill do anythin..youre the only one who sgotten me like this...the only one i want..[ ] please princess help me” Overwhelmed but the situation she tried to pull back, eyes searching his “K-kendo youre getting yourself worked up relax-” Without warning he picked her up, making her screech as he brought her crouch to his face, inhaling as he whimpered, reaching down to his growing dick “Fuck you smell good, like flowers...and sweets..” Letting his tongue roll out he sucked over her panties, making her squeal as she gripped his messy hair “N-no kendo put me down i need to help y-you!” She moaned as his tongue flicked over her clit, a mutual groan coming from both of them. Soon a hard tug to his hair resonated, cause him to put her down as she barely touched the floor, hand grabbing his biceps “Kendo please, please sit down youre overworking yourself.” Trying to calm her racing heart she saw how hazed he was, his hand coming to wrap around his visually throbbing head, stroking himself as tight and fast as he could, looking at the awe struck girl infront of him. His hips lifted up as he was chasing a high but he soon groaned, thrusting meekly in his fist “I-I cant, fuck I cant do it doll, ‘t hurts...p-please” Finally snapping from her haze she got closer to Kendo, hand still trying to milk himself as she put her hand over his, stoping the motion.

“K-ken..ill help you okay? Youre gonna rub yourself raw at this pace..” nervously [ ] pulled his hand away, precum coating it as she gulped. He was huge, red and swollen tip curved in the right places. Even with his bull heritage he was still humanly manageable, but with a lot of work to try and get it to fit. With her staring at the intimidating size it twitched , curving up to his belly button as he gave her a lop sided snarl “ Cmon darlin, he... er, we need you . ya keep staring make me feel a bit exposed” He laughed as [ ] gave her own light chuckle. Facing her fears she wrapped a hand around his tip, a hurting yelp falling from Kendo at the touch made her eyes flicker to him but what she saw was pure lust, eyes blown with his tongue licking over his lips “Y-yes finally...shit I-i can feel somethin” Kendo couldnt help himself. Reaching down he grabbed her other hand , wrapping them tightly around his tip as he thrusted between them. “Mhmm im cumin, im gonna cum o-oh shit” As soon as she twisted her wrist to help him he felt himself twitch , spurts of warm cum splattering on [ ]’s face and the floor a he gave her a nervous laugh “S-shit doll face yer good...im sorry i couldnt hold it in..” he said shyly as [ ] gave him a sympathetic look, stroking over his still throbbing head. “[ ] please...can I fuck you? I-I promise ill go slow its juts the smell of you is..mhmm intoxicating” Kendo pulled her up from her knees, pressing his mouth against her clinging panties ,pulling them with his teeth. [ ] squeaked, grabbing his hair as he pushed her hips closer, trying to lick her. “W-wait ill take em off” Pushing at his shoulders she pulled the piece he had in his mouth out, sliding the flimsy lace as she came a bit closer, a growl coming from his lips as he pushed her dress higher, finally able to taste her. Throwing one leg then the next on his shoulder kendo fell back, making her fall onto his lips.

[ ] let a pitched moan come out, startled by his rummaging in between her thighs , his diligent uskcing on her clit taking a toll as she came, bucking her hips onto his mouth. Swallowing her juices Kendo flipped her on her stomach, pushing the fabric of her dress up and over her shoulder to release her covered chest, now exposed “mhmm i want more of that sweet nectar baby why dont you give it to me?” whispering in her ear and now bucking his even harder dikc between her small lips [ ] started to panic “K-Ken wait I dont think youll fit!” ignoring her thrashing Kendo looked over her body, seeing how she shook at every stroke of his tip against her sopping core “I told ya ill be gentle, hold still [ ]...i wouldnt hurt my mate” The heaviness of those word took over [ ]’s body as she looked back to him, only to see the save behemoth size push against her ring of muscles. Agonizingly slow he pushed, letting his tip slide in as he pushed each small inch he could in, a whine falling from them both. Once he was halfway in he slowly thrust his hips, causing the girl to yelp “I-its alright i got ya okay? Youre fine...its okay im here” Constantly praising her , Kendo was able to slip more into her, each mini thrust pushing him a bit closer to her, the sounds of squishing and pleasure filled moans filling the room. Becoming overwhelmed at almost being full [ ] pushed her hips back to take the rest, making Kendo yelped and [ ] moaned, the sudden feeling of him bottoming out almost too much as he placed his hand on her stomach, feeling him brush her cervix. Swinging his hips more fluidly he started to pounder her even more, gripping her neck as he pushed her deeper in the bed “Fuck yeah i knew youd be my perfect little minx, taking me so well i cant wait to see you swollen with my babies” He huskily whispered , the stretched out girl too blissed at taking him whole to care about his words.

“I bet youd love being my mate, wouldnt have to lift a finger for anything , id take good care of ya..” Continuing his beating against her cervix he felt something strong hed never felt before, a blind need to cum hitting him like a train “mhm..please let me breed you, this pussys’ mine, all i ever wanted...ill make you a cute little house wife hm? Make you swell with cute little us running about.” Feeling her weakening clench over him he reached for that bundle of nerves, switching his hips to hit even deeper, his throbbing dick pushing against that sponge in her walls. Crying out [ ] fell lower, feeling him slip impossibly deeper as he sped up.” Cmon [ ] , babygirl cum for me..give me it..t-then i can give you what you want yeah? Fill ya to the brim so you can bear me a strong child….”Finally at that the little sense of control snapped coming from a particularly hard push and roll of her clit she was whining , grabbing the arm beside her head as angry red lines welted up. Feeling her hit her peak Kendo got to his knees , nursing her bud as she tried to tug him away, thighs shaking as teary eyes looked down to his fierce lust filled one. As soon as she started whimpering and pulling her hips away he stopped, scrubbing his tip along her folds as he entered without too much pull, [ ]’s mouth falling open “Mh..i'm so close baby...just wanted to look at you when I fill you full..” Kendo felt his tip twitch, making his hips stutter as he picked his pace up again, watching as her arms went are far as they could to his back, stretching his shoulders as he came with a growl, and almost audible sound of him pumping in her heard as she weakly pulled him closer, their lips meeting in a intimate kiss.

With care he pulled from her lips, seeing her eyes fill up again as he kissed tears away “Its alright...its okay ‘m here princess...its alright..I didnt hurt you did I?” Kendo asked as he looke at her slightly bulged stomach, a satisfied smirk on his lips “ Hey [ ]...” He started as she gave a weak hum he continued “Be my mate..I know i didnt ask before filling you bu...id be honored to make such a caring woman my mate and wife...treat you just like my father does my mom..…” He said, nuzzling her cheek before [ ] pulled his face up, kissing him lightly as she gave him a tired smile, rubbing his cheeks “I-id be honored to be your mate..take good care of me okay? Or Auntie Demeter has your head..” Laughing he kissed her lips again, sealing their new deal

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #the circus dome collab #rappa x reader #kendo rappa #rappa smut #kendo rappa x reader

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Analyzing Illumi Zoldyck's Character

Chrollo Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up y’all! Sorry for being away for the last few days. I needed a break from social media because I am so tired of seeing toxic, self-righteous people on my TL. Anyway, quite a lot of you liked my posts about analyzing HxH characters and somehow comparing them to VLD characters. Today, I’ll be talking about Illumi Zoldyck and I’ll try to compare him to a Voltron character. I know many people have already analyzed this character before, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to the discussion some years later. If you want me to write about anything else, send me an ask! The formatting of this post may be different than the one I wrote about Hisoka Morrow (click his name to view that post).

HERE WE GO!

In the first season, all of the characters are contestants for the Hunter’s Exam. I say contestants because this is a contest to see who can win without any injuries and can keep up with each host. I forget what number stage they were at, but I do know they were at the stage where each opponent has to fight each other. They are declared the winner if their opponent forfeits or gives up mid-match. (Off-topic, but) I am going, to be honest; Gon was my favorite character but his flaws began to show, annoyed me, and later led to his horrific downfall (based from YouTube clips). He didn’t know when to stop and kept pushing himself over the limit. Anyway, Killua and Gittarackur are set to fight. This is when things take a turn for the worse.

Gittarackur is a form of a disguise for Illumi to mask his identity. His face is long; nearly (and reminds me of) in the shape of a Tiki. His face also reminds me of the Witch Doctor mask from Scooby-Doo and Hell-raiser. He has several pins stuck in his face to maintain the facial features of Gittarackur. On the flip side, if he removes the pins, his biological form is revealed. Once he does this, Killua is nearly paralyzed; he cannot believe his eyes and I’m sure the trauma he endured at home hit him like a sack of rocks. Illumi then tells Killua that he wants him to return home, that he cannot maintain a friendship with Gon, stated that he was going to kill Gon, but realizes that if he does so he will be disqualified and will not obtain his Hunter’s license.

I’m assuming the cops aren’t a thing in this reality and the only way for them to “destroy” under the law is by obtaining the license. What do you think? I rarely see police officers; all I see are the Mafia and every they suck compared to the Zoldyck's and the Phantom Troupe. Shit, it seems like they’re the police but have twisted motives.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fictional character or not, first impressions matter and he bombed this one...even for a villain.

But you did this for what?

How can you hypnotize (by using Nen) your own brother into killing another opponent because he doesn’t want to become an emotionless zombie like you? At least, that’s my perception. Telling your brother to run every time he faces an opponent that he knows he cannot win against is the sickest shit I’ve ever seen. I know I’m jumping around but another thought popped into my head. As the seasons go on, Illumi expresses an odd way of loving his younger brother and to him, that means to make him suffer in the same way he had to. It seems like Illumi is jealous of Gon in a way. (I’ve seen clips on YouTube) Killua takes Alluka to the hospital to heal Gon. Illumi has stated several times to Hisoka that Killua was hiding rules from him and that he still wanted to get rid of Alluka. Although it is clearly stated why he wanted Alluka gone, I still think that Illumi was jealous of Gon simply because his younger brother preferred to be with a friend instead of him. This is why he emphasizes “You cannot have friends. Either they will betray you or you’ll betray them.”

As I read and watched as the seasons went on, I noticed something about Illumi and his family. We all know that the children were raised by their parents. Specifically, their dad is a trained assassin. I can’t remember but I think Zeno is their grandfather who is also an assassin.

I view him as a character that has suffered from abuse and trauma in order to mold him into an assassin. He is emotionless, doesn’t really care for others, has an odd relationship with Killua that he doesn’t have for his other siblings, and is a hypocrite. Killua can’t be friends with Gon but every time the show cuts to him, he’s with Hisoka? Something is fishy there. Are they more than friends? OK, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Here's the physical analysis below.

Face

When masquerading as Gittarackur, his face has several pins in them and his hair is in a rock star form of Mohawk that is purple. I’ll give him 10/10 for uniqueness, yet it still reminded me of Hell Raiser.

I’ve noticed that when he is in public he is in costume. Why doesn’t he reveal himself in public? I’ve researched this and no one could answer this question. My guess is that he is a verified hunter and assassin. How can you carry out your missions if everyone knows what you look like? Without the pins in his face, it reverts back to his natural state. To me, his large eyes and long, shiny black hair are his distinguished features. Although he may be my least favorite character, he does have pretty eyes. Haven’t you all heard of “I got lost in his/her eyes”?

Yeah, that can be said about him. Most definitely. He rarely smiles and when he does, something BAD is going to happen. I saw him laugh crazily once Alluka began the healing process, the Nen (I guess) rose from the hospital and got on him. This scene reminds me of how Haggar reacted once the Komar’s quintessence bounced from Voltron and bounced onto her. Wow, these supernatural abilities make y’all feel that good?

Clothes

Gittarackur and Illumi wear the same clothes, which should be a clear giveaway that they are the same. Illumi wears a neural green short jacket that has yellow pins in them, a light green shirt underneath, and green pants. His shoes remind me of loafers with a heel on them, something my grandmother would wear.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say again, these bad-ass men in this show are very stylish and seem to be in shape more than I am. Although Illumi irks me, his fashion is great and this is why people prefer him to be their favorite character. Shows should always produce characters that are memorable; that is the key to a long-lasting fan base.

In conclusion, this anime (for the most part) has well-rounded characters that make the plot interesting and wanting more.

Illumi and Lotor are somewhat similar. They both grew up in abusive households and lost some sense of sensitivity, common sense, and were often “misguided” by their own selfishness. Illumi wants a better life for Killua by constantly brainwashing him into thinking that he cannot have friends and his can only find happiness through killing. Zarkon raises Lotor to be a prince that shouldn't work with planets and should destroy them. This explains why he used deceased Alteans from the colony, drained their quintessence, and didn't give them a proper burial. Lotor IS just like his father but Killua IS NOT like Illumi. Ironic, huh? As we all know by now, Lotor is the son of Honerva (Haggar) and Zarkon. After the rift accident, he became an emotionless, ruthless monster that colonized and destroyed planets just to gain their quintessence. He taught this to his son and once he was old enough to think for himself, he refused to act in such a way. Although he was exiled and said he wasn’t like Zarkon, he was; but worse. Lotor studied and gained knowledge about Altea and its people while using Allura to gain the secrets of Oriande. I say he used her because he knew from the moment he met her that he was harvesting Altean quintessence. While fighting the white lion, he yelled “Victory or Death” which is a common catchphrase the Galra use when they are in battle. In fact, the Galra have been victims of trauma from Zarkon. Zarkon’s ruthless ways of ruling had no other motive except for obtaining quintessence so he could live forever. Silva’s way of raising his children was done to mold them into assassins. Since he was taught this way he did the same thing to his children. Zarkon, Silva, and Zeno think that their ways of parenting are necessary for survive in life when it doesn’t have to be that way. Illumi and Lotor have experienced this horrific parenting and deal with it in different ways. Illumi is oddly obsessive of his younger brother and Lotor is a fucking liar.

This analysis was fun! Next, I’ll be analyzing Killua and Keith Kogane.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, send me an ASK!

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imthepunchlord · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts on how the guardian role is handled lore wise? Would you change much about being the guardian?

Oh yes I do and there's so much that I would change up.

The more we see of the Guardians, the dumber they are and the more pointless they are. To a point it's a wonder if they were worth the inclusion as they don't amount to much and are just useless. I'm putting this undercut as I just go off.

- Lore wise, they set it up that adults are naturally more powerful, so why did Fu pick two kids to fight his battles for him? Why not adults? Why did he leave them on their own instead of offering them some means to have an edge over HM?

- Of the Ladybug and Cat, we have yet to see anything unique that the Cat brings to these fights that the other 15 miraculi that Fu has with him couldn't do. You need a distraction that's going to mess up the akuma? Monkey and Fox. You need a protector/aggressor? Bee, Turtle, or Dragon. Ladybug is a must as its the only cleanser so far and has ML to boot, but Cat doesn't need to be out there, and as soon as HM had quite publicly stated that he wants LB and Cat, Fu should've reclaimed the Cat immediately to secure its safety and that HM won't get both. Another or two could go out to replace it.

- Why was picking Adrien a good idea? If Fu had just arrived in Paris, ok, but Backwarder reveals he's been living in Paris for a while. And with that, he's seen Adrien's face everywhere.s Adrien is potentially the most well known kid in Pari. Technically, for Fu's want of secrecy, why pick the most iconic face in Paris to get a miraculous? That sets up one of your heroes to always have attention on him. Fu picking Adrien doesn't make any logical sense.

- Why is Fu ok with endangering one kid but not the other? Why does Marinette get a test set up that risks her life and Fu's if it hadn't gone well and Adrien just helps an old man up, a common decency that most would do. It's like two extreme differences that don't work well in comparison as Marinette gets the risky test and Adrien it looks like he got his miraculous on a silver platter as he got the far easier one that takes the least effort to be a decent human being.

- Fu being a terrible mentor and hero picker in general and the whole shebang with Syren. If Adrien is not meeting his standards or if he doesn't trust Adrien at all, why is Adrien being allowed to continue as a hero? Or if he really wants Adrien to stay, why isn't he doing anything about Adrien? Why isn't he telling Plagg to encourage Adrien to step up and get serious? If he can take on the role of being Adrien's Chinese teacher, why not do that to try and guide Adrien to improvement so he can also be trusted with Guardian secrets too and truly help Marinette out. He's got two options when he doesn't trust Adrien or finds that he's meeting his standards: he takes the miraculous back or he addresses this issue himself.

- I also call big BS about him not doing anything at all when he comes upon Adrien detransformed on the roof with Plagg. Cause he's risking himself going out to find Chat Noir only to find him detransformed. That realistically should raise some brows and concern him. Adrien at least should've gotten a lecture or warning.

- Also the reveal that kwamis aren't allowed to know about their own power. that to me is off putting. It really stresses that kwamis are beneath them, these very ancient and powerful beings that have probably seen a lot. And canon validates it by making them children (which to me is the writers being lazy so they don't have to do complex characters).

- The whole thing with Fu's backstory. Dumbest backstory I've ever heard and it just paints Guardians in a really bad light, and by extension, real life monks. Monks didn't go to people's homes to take children. If they did take kids with them, those kids had nowhere else to go and offered them a place to stay until old enough to be on their own. And that test, omg, wtf. Ok, I can get the idea of a test of temptation, but there are other ways to perform it without starving a kid. Especially leaving said kid alone unsupervised with 19 powerful miraculi two of which have wish granting abilities. How would the Guardians even know if Fu used a miraculous as they left him alone with mriaculi. If Fu wanted to, he could've made a wish to never be picked.

- Fu didn't even do shit when he finally had a chance to face off against HM. He just sat in his damb ball and allowed himself to get knocked around. At least try and roll over him! Be a ping-pong ball! DO SOMETHING. Like, why did you even pick Turtle??? Turtle wasn't able to do anything against Butterfly! I thought it could as Fu had been ready to go in Origins, plus the 5 are based off Wu Xing, by set up, Fox and Turtle should have some sort of an edge over the Butterfly. But I guess that means there could be other options aside form LB and we can't have that, Marinette's miraculous needs to be the only thing to take on the Butterfly to really stress on the fact that it comes down to only her.

- The memory wipe thing that's an apparently must when you retire from being the Guardian. Honestly I think that should've been saved as a last resort if you're ever captured and could be forced to leak info, not when you retire. Doing so removes a valid source of advisement that a new Guardian can rely on. History is there to learn from it and this tradition removes a source of history to learn from, either from having guidance or seeing what the old did and how you want to change things. This also makes me concerned as I see Adrien taking advantage of an amnesiac Marinette.

- I went off about the NY Special revealing there's more Orders here.

- And lastly, Su-Han, the other Guardian to see aside from Fu. And with him, it solidifies how stupid they all are. When the Butterfly is being misused in Paris, why is someone aggressive and judgmental coming to Paris? Why is this guy even working with kids when he doesn't like kids? And the reveal that Guardians don't use miraculi at all. That just makes that test all the dumber with testers being unsupervised. And for Guardians not meant to use miraculi, how come Marinette gets a nice perk as LB that she can pull a miraculous out of her yo-yo? They're probably playing that she's "the first" to do so but realistically, I'm pressing x to doubt. In the long history of miraculi and when Guardians were around, you expect me to believe that Guardians never used miraculi themselves? What if there was no one to turn to, do they just the disaster happen? ...Well, based on how terrible canon is setting them up, I wouldn't be surprised.

SO.

There is a lot I would change up about the Guardians and for this, I'll adjust canon.

- Adrien gets the ring another way, maybe a gift from his mom or aunt or grandparents. Realistically, there's no logical reason for Fu to pick Adrien. He just has too much attention on him and Chat being an unexpected miraculous user can make him wary, adding to him only trusting Marinette.

- I'd have Fu be more present in Marinette's life, a customer who comes in a lot. This way he can offer advise when needed but not take away from Tikki. And this has him more closely keeping an eye on things.

- I'd change up Fu's backstory. He got separated from his family in a flood, the previous Turtle saved him, tried to help him find his family and with no luck, took him to the Temple, but only the section where other orphans are where they work to help take care of it, oblivious to the miraculous near them. After a year, Fu is one of the few selected to be entrusted with miraculous knowledge. He's surprised but not all that for it as he'd rather go find his family still. Idk how Temple falls but its not that. That was just dumb and avoidable.

- I wouldn't have Adrien meet Fu at all. In truth, it actually could've been cut out entirely as Adrien meeting Fu didn't amount to anything. He doesn't help with Guardian duties, doesn't help pick heroes, hasn't stepped up at all in his role as a partner. And he's not as torn up about Fu's loss as Marinette is. Adrien meeting Fu was pointless in the grand scheme of things. Nothing was progressed or changed from Adrien meeting Fu.

- I'd have HM ONLY getting an edge on Fu because Mayura was there to help him, catching Fu off guard. I want to see the Turtle truly in action, to see what else it can do cause sitting there to be smacked around was just unimpressive. And if Asstruck even did as much research as he could, he'd know that in Chinese mythology, the Turtle is a boss. It's the keeper of history and symbol of immortality, and it's up there with Tiger as an animal that can go toe to toe with the Dragon. And of the Four Symbols (associated with 4 seasons), the Black Turtle is also known as the Black Warrior. There should've been a lot more to Turtle than just sitting in your shell and allowing yourself to be knocked around.

- Su-Han I'd drastically change up. I'd keep in him being critical and stern, but he approaches things smartly and patiently. Before he dives into aggression and accusations, he wants to know what's going on. Why does this 14 yo have the Miracle Box? How was the Butterfly obtained and misused? And what the hell is going on??? How are these people so small and how did they get into this thin glass box?? Computer? What's a computer??? Essentially, have fun with the fact that Su-Han is essentially a time traveler and one great bonding experience to have with Marinette while also offering some good comedy is him learning about the modern time and her acting as his guide. Su-Han can give her guidance that Fu hadn't been able to give, and Marinette can offer her own in a way that Su-Han will need. Which by extension could remove Marinette having a near mental breaking point and revealing herself to Alya, and could avoid some of that drama of what's coming.

- Speaking of which, Adrien. I'd use Su-Han to finally address the issues with Adrien as a hero and partner. Su-Han prioritized Marinette as she has the Miracle Box, but Adrien is someone he'd take the miraculous away from. Adrien would get a very clear warning and call out for his actions and role.

#ask Punchie #long post #Adrien salt #Fu salt #Guardian salt

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fbfh · 3 years

Text

I mean, you did ask - leo x reader

all characters are aged up to 18+ for smexy subtext

word count: 2k

pairing: leo x gn child of calliope reader

genre: adventure, romance, hints at a lowkey soulmate au

summary: after a bumpy reunion turned interrogation with your friends, you finally prove to Leo that you’re someone worth catching up with

warnings: swearing, friends hold you at knife point (for good reason) memory loss, dimesion/reality travel, the phrase “horrible sexy little goose” not about an actual animal, moderate time difference between worlds, reader is acting like a cocky piece of shit half the time, you call yourself sexy a lot, annabeth slaps reader and reader is unbothered, reader and leo hae very visceral reactions upon seeing each other, piper picks up on this, moderately aggressive face grabbing, discussing personal info with someone somewhat privately, brief mentions of hand holding and hair pulling during sex, you spill tea about the rest of the demisquad, I think that’s it pls tell me if I missed any

song rec: choke - i don’t know how but they found me

a/n: this is from a very vivid daydream I had so er ah if reader seems op coded that’s cause she is uwu

You were excited to reunite with your friends after so long, but being tied up and held hostage at knifepoint by the people you love who don’t even remember you wasn’t the welcome wagon you were hoping for. Then again, as a child of Calliope, you can’t say you’re surprised.

Apollo has a lot of kids, but demigod children of the muses are exceptionally less common. They’re volatile, really powerful, extremely engrossed in their art, and usually care more about their latest thesis paper or painting or manuscript than going on quests, and more often than not have very specific powers. You, for example, love quests but feel like you never get to go on any, usually because you’re fighting monsters somewhere else. One fun little power you inherited from your mom is - somewhat involuntary - dimension shifting.

A lot of times you just get summoned somewhere else, with a little inherent background knowledge and your weapon, set free into the new world like a horrible sexy little goose. There’s usually some kind of objective you need to meet; find this person, set something in motion, give someone support in a time of need, deliver a package. After that, you get sent back to your family at camp half blood. The catch, one of them at least, is that a few days Somewhere Else could be no more than a few minutes in your homeverse.

Another catch is that because of all that, and the fact that you wouldn’t know how to begin explaining, let alone if anyone would believe you, no one knows you can do this yet. Chiron has an idea, but you’ve never told anyone outright.

You guess now is as good of a time as any to come clean, as Percy holds his sword threateningly close to your neck. You let out a disbelieving laugh, and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, okay… you want the truth?” he starts to back off, and you continue, leaning forward, “I’m not surprised you’d want to know where someone this sexy-” your words cut off as Annabeth’s hand slaps you across the face. You let out a laugh of disbelief, cheek stinging.

“A cheap shot, Annabeth? Wow, I really didn’t take you for the type,” she grabs your face, leaning in close, knife once again against your throat.

"How do you know my name." She hisses, and behind her, the door opens. Messy dark curls peek over her head in your vision and you know instantly who it is. Your heart starts pounding, loud and hard, and something heavy starts swirling deep in your gut. Your eyes lock as soon as he enters the room and an instinctive smile blooms on your face, knowing what's inevitably on its way.

"Hey Sparky…"

Your voice, slow and drawling (and, he'd be lying if he didn't say kind of very sexy) impales him as soon as he enters the room. He watches your pupils expand, eyes locked, immediately swept away by your magnetic aura. A fox like grin decorates your pretty face, and he gets the feeling you know more than you let on. Way more. He's so drawn to you on a guttural level, way more than he's ever been to someone before. His face is hot, and when you slowly wink at him, he feels flames erupt on his cheeks. It takes him a second to put it out, feeling your white hot gaze on him the entire time.

Piper, who's been helping with your interrogation, looks back and forth between you two as this progresses, taking in a breath and mumbling a shocked, "Oh," as she begins to understand.

"How are those repairs coming?" Jason asks, oblivious to everything that's happening between you two.

"Uh… nearly done…" Leo mutters, watching as you hold back an elated giggle at the sound of his voice. You never forget how good it feels to see him again, but the fresh feeling is always better than you can imagine. Jason glances between you two, and walks over to Leo, suspicious of your interest in him.

"I'll walk you back," Jason says, glaring at you. Your eyes stay locked with Leo's until the door finally closes again. Piper stares at you, bewildered by the tension turned to frantic energy crackling around both you and Leo. She can sense it on him even after he's out of the room.

Annabeth finally drops your face, pacing and pinching the bridge of her nose. Percy slams him hands down on the table and levels his face with yours.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time. How do you know us?"

You stare at the table for a second, still thinking about him. You have to see him again. You’ve waited for too long, you just can’t do it anymore.

“H- okay. Um,” You blink a few times, facade falling away almost instantly as you look up in a silent prayer that this doesn’t go as badly as you feel like it will. You sigh, looking back up at the other people in the room, a new, deliberate intention in your eyes that they hadn’t seen before.

“You want to know why I’m here?”

Their answer is the silence that follows.

“You’re not gonna believe me.” They look around at each other, collectively thinking about everything they’ve been through in the last year alone.

“Try us.” Annabeth replies. You sigh again, and introduce yourself. “...I’m a child of Calliope, muse of epic poetry, and I know you all because we grew up together. One of the fun - quirks, I inherited from my mom is traveling into different stories, or realities, I guess. It’s hard to control, and sometimes happens involuntarily. I adapt to wherever I am, and the universe sort of auto adjusts to follow the rules that stories have to follow.

The reason you don’t remember me is because I was gone for a really long time, and your story had to keep going. Trying to find me wouldn’t have moved the plot forward, questioning where I went would have been confusing, so it did the simplest thing and edited me out so you could get closer to meeting your objectives.”

Once again, their silence is your answer.

“Guys, sidebar.” Annabeth says, pulling Percy, Jason, and Piper out of the room for a moment. The come back in a little while later, and she looks you dead in the eye.

“If you really know us as well as you say you do, prove it. Tell us you’d only know if we were as close as you say we were.”

You sigh yet again, having lost count at how many times that’s happened today alone. You roll your shoulders and bob your head, irritable that you’re still restrained and itching to move.

“Is there anything we can do before the whole tell me something really personal thing?”

Percy looks at you, challenging.

“Can you do it or not?”

Another noise of exasperation leaves you, and you agree, resignation all over your face.

“You know what, yeah. Okay, we’re doing this. Someone go get Leo.” An involuntary smile once again launches onto your face at the mention of his name. Jason starts to object.

“Hey, I’m not going to spill something personal about someone when they’re not in the room.” They agree reluctantly, and Jason leaves, returning again with Leo. You look at him again, enraptured by his presence. He can’t say he doesn’t like the attention - a hottie like you looking at him like that? Yes, please - but something about it feels different, and he gets the feeling there’s a lot more going on than they’re aware of.

You nod your head once, indicating for him to come closer. He gets a little closer. You widen your eyes, nodding two more times, and he hesitantly gets within whispering distance.

You turn your head to your left, dangerously close to his face. He can feel his pulse already speeding up. Heat radiates between your faces, your breath fanning over his neck as you whisper slowly,

“You really… really like holding hands, and when I pull your hair during sex.”

He pulls away from you quickly, beet red, bewildered expression obvious to everyone in the room. “H-how-”

“How do you think?” You reply calmly, loving everything about him, “Okay, to be fair…” you nod once more, eyes flaring, and he leans in once again, equally hesitant and curious. Your words tickle his ear, seeming to light up his entire nervous system like a firecracker.

“I really really like when you bite that spot on my neck, just below my ear.”

He pulls away again, trying not to literally and figuratively combust. He stares in your eyes intensely, searching for anything besides the truth. He finds absolutely nothing. He turns around, unable to look his friends in the eye.

“They’re legit, guys.”

“Wait, what did you say to him?” Piper asks, unsure if she wants to know the answer.

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees, “what if it’s some kind of mind control-” Your deep, burning desire to finally hold Leo after god knows how long is starting to beat your better judgement, and you really, really want to be untied from this stupid chair. “Annabeth! Your favorite show was Cyber Chase growing up, you used to come up with plans on how to defeat Hacker, your best was cutting off his food supply - good strategy, I’ve used it before, myself.

Percy, you feel like you can’t sing because you were forced to participate in an elementary school recital and some kid called you tonedeaf behind your back, it kicked you right in the RSD balls.

Piper, you’re a closet weeb, you watched Ouran High School Host club obsessively and still do sometimes, you fell for Jason because he had, quote, 'Tamaki's looks and Kyoya's brains, the ideal man'.

Jason, that scar on your lip is from biting a stapler as a child-"

"Okay, everyone knows that-"

"-and," you continue, showing no signs of stopping, "the reason you ate the stapler is because you were pretending to be a trash compactor because you saw one on TV.

Nico is totally not right outside the door keeping guard right now, but if he were and you asked him if he likes the diary of a wimpy kid movies he'll ask how the hell you know that - should I continue."

Again, the answers are in the silence hovering in the room.

“I think it’s about time to catch me up on what I missed.”

A beat passes.

“Right,” Annabeth says, blinking and readjusting her ponytail as she sits down across from you, Percy already taking the bindings off of your wrists, “so, about the quest…”

She starts to fill you in on the details you missed, bringing you up to speed. After a little while you all decide to call it a night. Piper senses your energy ramping up in spite of the exhaustion settling in. You finally bid them all good night, but Piper’s not sold by your forced yawns. After what feels like another lifetime, you finally leave the room you’ve been in for hours with one objective.

You can’t stay away from him anymore, you have to find Leo.

After navigating a maze of hallways and doors, you finally push open the right one to see him looking up at you, and find yourself saying for the second time tonight,

“Hey, Sparky…”

His heart is racing, and he gets that heavy, full feeling in his chest again, not having fully shaken it from the last time you saw each other. Looking into your eyes makes him nostalgic for something he can’t quite remember, and he knows with full certainty that you have more history than he’s aware of. He wants more than anything in this moment to remember. He sets down the wrench in his hand, taking a step toward you.

“Hey…”

#leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#elder #elder tree #elderberry #elder mother #plant lore #herbcraft #folklore #Roy Vickery #Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

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tenspontaneite · 3 years

Text

Across Shared Skin (Chapter 1/?)

When Callum was born, Sarai pored over every inch of his skin by candlelight until she found it: a tiny, diminutive patch of discoloured skin on the back of his tiny, diminutive left hand.

(Second of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine) (Soulmate AU. For the ‘AU’ chapter. Only this instalment was written for the zine; future chapters are all new. Piece length: 7k. Ao3 link)

---

It was an interesting skin tone. Pale and purplish, almost, plainly evident against the ruddy colour of his newborn body. She wondered if, across whatever distance separated them, her son’s soulmate had noticed the corresponding shift on their own hand. She wondered how much older they were. She wondered many things that, in the end, only the passage of years would be able to answer. But for now, there were observances to meet.

She fetched a pen, and in the tiniest script she could manage, drew lines of ink carefully across the back of her son’s hand. Callum, she wrote, and left it at that.

Others might include a birth-date, or kingdom of residence, or the names of the parents. But Sarai was wary, and wrote only what custom dictated. The name.

She wasn’t expecting a response right away. For all the prominence of the mark’s location, it was late, and whoever waited on the other end might well be asleep. She had expected more to be waiting until morning, at the very least. But, mere minutes later—

Clear and careful, a name unfolded on her son’s skin, directly beneath the one she’d written.

Rayla, it said, and nothing else.

Sarai mulled the name over. It was unusual. Foreign, certainly, though that didn’t guarantee anything about how far away the girl might live. In the end, she nodded, and committed the name to her memory. It might be years until Callum could communicate with his soulmate himself, but until then, he deserved to know her name.

She left both names on Callum’s hand, and set him gently down to sleep.

---

“He might not be a human.” Lain attempted, yet again, looking down for what seemed like the hundredth time at the name on his daughter’s hand. “Elves use the common script, too. And the name—it’s not unusual. It would fit in well with any of the communities that use Draconic more than we do.”

Tiadrin sighed, and eased the glove once again onto Rayla’s squirming fingers. It wasn’t proper to have one’s mark visible in public, but children so often disliked restrictive coverings. “They didn’t write the primal.” She said, flatly, and that was a tired statement too. “What elf wouldn’t write the symbol of the primal their child was born to? It’s tradition.”

The name and the symbol were obligatory. All else—birthdate, location, family—was optional. But there should have been a symbol. Moon, or Sun, or Sky, or Earth—even Ocean—there should have been a symbol. But there wasn’t, and in its absence, they’d omitted Rayla’s moon. If her soulmate was a human, it would keep him safer. It didn’t seem prudent to declare arcanum to a human audience of unknown prejudices.

Lain was quiet, watching as she covered up the damning ink of the unaccompanied names. “He might not be a human.” He repeated, more softly. “Perhaps they omitted his primal for security reasons. Perhaps he’s the son of someone important.” His brow furrowed. “Perhaps he’s a Startouch elf.”

She snorted. “Fat chance of that. And even royalty declare their children’s primal.” She bent down to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “No, Lain. Our daughter has a human soulmate, and we’ll just have to live with that.”

He frowned, resignation and concern written more clearly on him than the names on Rayla’s hand. “…We can’t let anyone find out.” He said, eventually, defeat weighing on his every word. “She’d never be able to do anything without someone questioning her loyalties. She’d be shunned. We can’t let that happen to her.”

Tiadrin nodded. It went without saying, really. “We’ll tell Runaan and Ethari. Everyone else…” She mulled the name over. Callum. It could mean ‘hard-skinned’. It could also, if derived from Columba, mean ‘dove’. Either way, it was a plainly Draconic name, and Moonshadow elves didn’t tend to name their children for Draconic. Others, though… “We’ll say he’s a Skywing elf.” She decided, and her husband hummed approvingly.

“What about Rayla?” He asked, then. “What will we tell her?”

She went quiet. “…I can’t lie to my own daughter about her soulmate, Lain.” She admitted. “We’ll just…have to impress on her the importance of discretion. Children aren’t always the best at keeping secrets, but…”

He held silent for a moment, then smiled. “She’s a Moonshadow elf. She’ll be fine.” He said, and she wished she could share his confidence.

“We’ll see.” Tiadrin said, noncommittal, and left it to that.

---

Once or twice in his early years, Callum experienced little hints of the shared skin between himself and his soulmate. Here and there, he felt phantom fingertips against the back of his hand, the weight of unfamiliar cloth, and—once—the sharp sting of a scratch from some sort of animal across the skin. It healed quickly, as all blemishes on soulmarks did, but he’d gone crying to his mother from the unexpected pain anyway.

People were circumspect about their soulmarks, and that was part of the background hum of culture that he was raised to. He wasn’t to show his soulmark in public. He wasn’t even to say where it was. He wore fingerless gloves, on both hands, to disguise it—and, at least until he was able to talk to her, he wasn’t even supposed to tell anyone her name.

He did, though.

He finger-spelled it out to Aunt Amaya, albeit clumsily. “Her name is Rayla,” he said, almost solemnly, with the motions of his hands. She smiled at him indulgently and raised a finger to her lips in a ‘hush’ motion.

She wasn’t the only person he told. He told the officer of the Standing Battalion who was watching his mother and Amaya’s latest sparring match. He told the baker that they went to buy sweets from. He told near everyone he met, when he was going through the typical three-year-old’s phase of desperate interest in the phenomenon of a soulmate, and his mother sighed at him for it every time.

Again and again, he asked her to write something to Rayla. To ask questions, to find out something more about her, anything. He had a soulmate, and he wanted to know more about her than her name and skin colour.

“It wouldn’t be right, Callum.” She told him, patiently. “Only soulmates should speak through their skin. You’ll just have to wait until you can write to her yourself.”

Callum scowled, and set back into learning his alphabet very vehemently indeed. Because that was the thing:

It wasn’t proper for someone else to write to your soulmate for you. It wasn’t even proper to be walked through spelling out an introduction. When you first wrote to your soulmate, you were supposed to do it yourself. And you were supposed to wait until you were good enough to manage basic conversation, too.

Callum didn’t want to wait until he had words to communicate with. So, one evening, in abject defiance of custom and propriety, he took off his glove and doodled a little flower on the back of his hand. He fell asleep feeling particularly pleased with himself, and somehow, didn’t consider that writing upon shared skin might garner a response.

He woke to a tiny, clumsy flower-doodle scrawled beside his own.

---

Rayla was something of a lonely child. She didn’t have friends her age, having never meshed well with the other children. She didn’t play like the other children did, preferring instead to train with Runaan, or go off sneaking into the forest alone. She didn’t socialise and the closest thing she had to friends were the adoraburrs she brought home by the armful. So, really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that she became so taken with her soulmate.

It started when, one day, Rayla ran up to them with her expression so bright it was impossible not to smile back at her. And then they saw what was on her hand, and Tiadrin had to restrain a surprised laugh at the neat little flower doodled on her daughter’s hand. “Oh, well,” She managed, and shared a glance with Lain. “That’s…” She remembered, for a moment, that this was a human, but… “That’s incredibly cute.” She sighed in the end, because it was, and Rayla was so charmingly pleased with the tiny drawing. “Congratulations, Rayla.”

“It’s only a flower,” said their rambunctious, headstrong little girl, but there was no hiding how delighted she was. “He didn’t even write anything.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how, yet.” Tiadrin said, while she tried to remember how old Rayla’s soulmate was. “He’s not quite four, and that’s very young for writing.” She shook her head. “Well, I suppose we’d best get you your skin-inks, if you’re going to be talking now. Or drawing.” Suddenly, she levelled her daughter with a penetrating look. “Remind me what you know about talking to your soulmate, Rayla.”

She stilled for a second, and fell from her childish delight into the more bullheaded determination that accompanied her through her training. “Nothing ‘bout elves, or Xadia, or where we live, or anyone’s names, or magic, or assassins.”

Lain reached out and ruffled her hair. “Good girl.” He praised, and she beamed at him. When she was older, no doubt, she’d chafe against those restrictions. They’d make it very hard to talk to one’s soulmate about anything of substance, after all. But for now, she was content.

Rayla puffed up. “I’m gonna draw him an adoraburr!” She announced, and both of her parents made despairing noises.

“Rayla, honey, adoraburrs are magic.” Tiadrin explained, patiently, and her daughter’s face fell. Evidently, this might be more challenging than they’d thought.

(Rayla drew the adoraburr anyway. Adoraburrs were everywhere, after all. What could it hurt?)

Callum kept up a clandestine exchange of doodles with his soulmate for months before his mother found out. Rayla always used some sort of weird ink that washed off his skin really easily, while his ink lingered in faded outlines for days after he scrubbed it off. It was that which caught him, in the end.

“Callum,” his mother sighed, a little despairingly, at the evidence of many successive generations of doodles on the skin of his hand. “You’re supposed to wait until you can write.”

He made a face at her from the side of the bath, where he really should have expected he’d be caught. “It’s not hurting anyone.” He muttered, chagrined. “We’re just drawing.”

She pursed her lips, reluctantly curious. “She draws back? Or does she write?”

“She draws.” He admitted. “She got this weird ink that washes off easy.”

After a brief correction to his grammar, she shook her head. “Skin-ink. It’s made to wash off. I’ll have to get you some, I suppose.” She watched him almost tiredly for several long moments, then said “I’ll not stop you from drawing to each other, Callum. But this means we’ll need to have your security lessons earlier than normal. There are things you’re not supposed to talk to soulmates about—things that could hurt the kingdom. Do you understand?”

He didn’t. But he pretended he did, to make her happy.

In the end, she held the skin-inks hostage until he could dutifully rattle off the list of things he wasn’t supposed to talk about. This included: local governance, anything about how much food people had or where the food or water was kept, anything about the military (this being especially relevant, considering his mother and aunt), anything about the nobility, and a laundry list of other things.

When he was older, he’d understand the rationale behind it; that the careless words of children to their soulmates could reach the ears of adults who knew how to use them. A complaint about always being hungry might not mean much to the soulmate—but to an adult, it might indicate famine in a neighbouring kingdom. It might indicate weakness. And there were many such ways to damn one’s nation.

Of course, by the time he understood, he was himself a member of the nobility—a prince of Katolis. The damage an unwary prince might do with spilled secrets was potentially catastrophic, and so the lessons were drummed into his head until he almost felt wary to so much as touch the nib of his pen to the back of his hand. It would be so easy to give something away.

But, for now, he was only a child, and the ink on his skin held no secrets. He drew flowers, and birds, and cats, and dogs, and horses. His soulmate drew flowers, and weird circles with eyes, and animals that either had spikes on their heads or extra ears, and occasionally she attempted birds too. She wasn’t very good, but the drawings were from her, so he treasured them anyway.

He just wished he could write already, and talk to her properly.

---

Callum tugged on his mother’s sleeve and requested a writing test every week. And, every time, she looked over whatever she’d told him to write, praised his progress, and said, “Not yet.”

Not yet, every time. It meant ‘you are not yet at the level appropriate for talking to a soulmate’, and Callum thought it was an exceptionally annoying standard to hold someone to. It wasn’t like he and Rayla weren’t already sort-of talking, with their pictures. What did it matter if his spelling was bad or his handwriting messy or his letters extremely slow to form? But his mother was adamant.

Time passed, and in the wake of the great upheavals in his life, Callum wished more than ever before that he could talk to his soulmate. His mother married royalty, and she was crowned Queen, and Callum named prince, and in the overwhelming confusion of trying to adapt to life in the castle he desperately wished he could talk to Rayla about it. He didn’t have anyone to talk to, really. The only kids at the castle were Lord Viren’s children, and he didn’t know them well enough to confide in. But Rayla was his soulmate. He should be able to talk to her, right?

…But then, he realised, when his mother started to hesitate a little before saying “not yet,” he wouldn’t be able to talk to Rayla about this, anyway. His mother marrying a King, and him moving into a castle…that was big, important stuff. The sort of stuff soulmates weren’t meant to talk about, if they didn’t know for sure which kingdom they were loyal to.

That realisation left him sour and solemn for days. Still, he wanted to be able to talk to her about some things, even if not the big stuff that he wasn’t allowed to mention. He thought he was getting close to being pronounced ready, but…

In the end, Rayla lost patience before he did.

When Callum felt the scrawl of pen on his skin, it was an automatic reflex to duck away to somewhere secluded to peel off his glove and watch. This time, though, the scrawl just…kept going, as he headed for a secluded spot among a few trees, and he thought she must be drawing something unusually large and elaborate.

He just about fell over when he removed the glove to find words there.

The handwriting was messy, and slow to form. He was slow to read it. But it was unmistakably words.

Are you ever gonna write? Rayla asked, through their shared skin, and he stared at the back of his hand with his heart beating so hard it made his head feel weird and dizzy and hot. She was talking to him! Really talking!

After a moment, she underlined ‘ever’.

He panicked for several long minutes about what he should do. Mom said he shouldn’t. She said ‘not yet’. But that was about him making contact. The younger soulmate was supposed to do it first, after all.

He hesitated, rummaged for his pen and inks, and finally wrote Sorry. Mom won’t let me yet. It took him a long time. The letters were huge and messy and barely fit on the shared skin. For the first time in his life, he felt embarrassed for his handwriting, and suddenly understood why his mother might be saying ‘not yet’.

There was a pause as she wiped off her skin-inks and both sets of words vacated his skin. In her impatience, she left a vague inky smear behind. But you just wrote now, she pointed out, and – and his face burned, he felt unbearably shy and unbearably excited and nervous all at once…was this how people normally felt when they talked to their soulmates for the first time?

He ducked his head, flushed, and scrawled You did it first. He accidentally wrote over some of her letters in the process.

She washed off the inks again. Yeah, cause you were taking forever!! She paused, then added a few more exclamation marks for emphasis. I was so bored waiting.

After a brief pause where he carefully sounded out the word ‘waiting’ to figure out what it said, he wrote Me too.

Waiting had been annoying, and senseless, and stupid. Maybe it was a bit embarrassing to put bad handwriting on someone else’s skin, but…shouldn’t that be up to them to decide? If she still wanted to talk even though his writing was bad…then wasn’t it okay?

She had contacted him. He couldn’t be blamed for that, right?

…And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already broken tradition by drawing, anyway.

As soon as she washed their ink off, he started writing again. But we’re writing now, so I guess it’s okay?

Finally! Rayla wrote, in a quick and victorious scrawl, and also drew a little smiley face next to it. It was fairly delightful.

I’m Callum, he offered, a little shyly, after a moment. This, at least, he had practiced a lot.

I know. She wrote, the letters blocky and cheerful. I’m Rayla.

I know, he scrawled back, and imagined that on the other side of their connection, she was smiling too.

---

Callum learned a lot of things about his soulmate, in the weeks after she opened contact.

He learned that she liked to go exploring in the woods, which her town was inside. She wouldn’t say much about her town, but he got the idea it was pretty small.

He learned that she spent most of her time ‘training’, and while she wouldn’t say what she was training for, he gathered that it involved weapons and fighting and—apparently—being able to jump and flip around a lot.

He learned that she loved her parents and had two sort-of uncles who were married to each other, and one of those uncles was the one who trained her.

He learned that she absolutely detested water, and was terrified of it, and even the prospect of a bath was completely awful to her.

He learned that she was stubborn, and determined, and occasionally so blunt it was kind of rude. He learned that she didn’t really have friends, and while she put on a good show of not caring about that…

We’re friends, though, he pointed out to her, and felt the warmth of her fingertips lingering beneath the words for several minutes before she replied.

Yeah, she said, and that was all.

---

Rayla learned many things about her soulmate, in turn.

He was kind of shy, and got nervous easily, and wasn’t very good at talking to the kids where he lived. He had moved towns not all that long ago, and really wasn’t used to it yet, and found the new place kind of big and scary. He loved his mother an insane amount, and…didn’t seem to have a father. His mother had remarried, though, and had a baby on the way. He was cautiously excited about that.

He wasn’t good at fighting, and though he’d started sword lessons, he hated it and wished he didn’t have to do it. He took a lot of lessons—with tutors, instead of at a school—and wasn’t terribly keen on those, either. What he did like was drawing, and even though they could write now, he kept drawing things for her. Because he wanted to.

I want to draw stuff for you, he wrote, very firmly, and Rayla’s heart fluttered too much for her to think of objecting.

In all, he was really nice, considering he was a human.

...Maybe he wouldn’t be so nice, though, if he knew that she was an elf.

---

Callum was a shy and often tongue-tied boy out in the halls and grounds of the castle. In private, though, he never seemed to stop talking. And, unsurprisingly, one of his absolute favourite topics was his soulmate. As such, Sarai found out very rapidly when they’d started writing, and honestly wasn’t surprised by it at all. Only a little exasperated.

Time passed and Callum chattered, and Sarai grew to know a lot about her son’s soulmate. But there were things about her that she didn’t know. That she hadn’t even guessed about. Until…

“She spells things weirdly.” Callum confided, one day, while she was brushing his hair. “I tried telling her she was spelling stuff wrong but she just said that I’m spelling stuff wrong. Like ‘color’. She puts a ‘u’ in it. And she spells ‘mom’ with a ‘u’ too. It’s so weird.”

Sarai paused, brush stilling in his hair for a second, before she made herself complete the stroke. “Oh?” She said, lightly, allowing no trace of her unease into her voice. “That is odd. Does she spell any other words like that?”

Callum thought for a while. “She uses ‘s’ instead of ‘z’ a lot?” He ventured. “Like…she’ll spell ‘realize’ with an ‘s’. And sometimes she uses different words for things too. She calls pants ‘trousers’. I think maybe she’s from a kingdom where they say stuff different?”

“The common tongue does change a little, depending on where it’s spoken.” Sarai agreed, by all appearances unbothered. “So more likely than not, your Rayla speaks and writes with her regional dialect.” She paused, and carefully, she asked “Did she ever say where she was from?”

She could almost hear Callum’s face scrunching up. “No,” he admitted. “I guess she’s had security lessons too. I know she lives somewhere in a huge forest, though. She talks about it a lot.”

Sarai hummed, with the usual fond interest, and didn’t ask him to tell her more. He would, in time; he loved talking about his soulmate. If she asked, it would only make him suspicious. He was a bright boy. He’d notice. “Maybe one day she can give you tree-climbing lessons.” She suggested, and then that was all he could talk about for the next hour.

She listened more closely, after that. And, slowly, day by day, the clues started adding up.

“She says she lives inside a tree!” Callum declared one day, absolutely astonished and absolutely delighted and wanting her to know all about it. “A tree big enough that they could carve a house inside it! That must be so cool!”

Sarai agreed easily that it was very cool, and did not mention that there were no trees so large within the Pentarchy.

“I still draw her stuff, even though we can write now.” Her son said cheerfully, maybe a few weeks after the treehouse revelation. “She draws back sometimes, but she doesn’t like doing it because she doesn’t think she’s very good at it.”

“What does she draw?” Sarai inquired, and was presented with his hand, the skin-ink a little smudged around the shape of a fuzzy ball with a cute little face.

“Mostly these round fuzzy things.” He confided. “Sometimes she draws them stacked on each other.”

For a moment, she couldn’t answer. She stared, silent, at what was unmistakably an adoraburr, one of those creatures so common and omnipresent in Xadia that sometimes their charred fuzzy bodies were found fallen into the crevices of the Breach. Viren frequently received shipments of them. Apparently they were useful in some spells.

“Cute.” She commented, in the end, and knew by her son’s abrupt quietness that she hadn’t quite managed to hide her reaction.

She went to Harrow, almost as soon as she let Callum go out to play.

“I think Callum’s soulmate is an elf.” She said to him, without preamble, as soon as they were in private. He froze, and studied her, and watched her with wide eyes as he exhaled. He reached out and took her hand.

“Tell me everything.” He said, and she did. She explained the dialect, and the treehouse, and the adoraburrs, and every other clue her son had cheerfully rattled off at her over the months.

They brought Viren in. He agreed, from his acquaintance with stolen Xadian texts, that the dialect matched. He mentioned that there were enormous forests in Xadia not all that far from the border, and that they were home to a number of communities of Moonshadow elves. There might be other great forests elsewhere, of course. But that was the one he knew of.

From there on, she started noting down everything. The vague idea of ‘maybe she’s a Moonshadow elf’ went from ‘possible’ to ‘very likely’ when Sarai relayed the soulmate’s enthusiasm for a monthly community dance that—when she checked—turned out to fall on the full moon, every month. (Coincidentally, Callum had stopped complaining about his ballroom dancing lessons. She’d have found this much cuter if not for the circumstances.)

“The history texts I have say that Moonshadow elf tradition places a lot of emphasis on dancing.” Viren told her, almost apologetically, when she came back with this latest report.

“There’s no sense denying it any more, is there.” Sarai said, wearily, rubbing at her aching temples. Her son’s soulmate was an elf. Perhaps a Moonshadow elf, even, and those were some of the deadliest and most vicious elves there were. Combined with all of Callum’s mentions of his soulmate’s training…

Harrow laid his hand on her arm in warm, wordless reassurance. “What do you want to do?” he asked, quiet, and she sighed.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. In the end, it took a long talk with her sister before she made up her mind, and even then…it was hard to know what to do. How to react.

“He should know.” Was Amaya’s brusque opinion, expression laced with sympathy as she signed. “He’s a prince now, and he needs to know to watch his words around this soulmate of his. It’s a shame, but he’s hardly the first person to have an enemy for a soulmate.”

“There’s that.” Sarai agreed, glumly, and tried to stop worrying about what it meant for her son’s future, that his soulmate was an elf.

It was hard, telling him. Hard to sit him down and inform him, very seriously, that she was near certain that his soulmate was an elf. It was hard to watch the way his expression went…blank, almost. Closed-off, for a few seconds before it became confused and vulnerable instead.

“…What does this mean?” He asked, quiet, and she wasn’t sure what to tell him.

“It means that you need to be very, very careful what you tell her.” She said, in the end, because that was what she knew. “Her people are at war with ours, Callum. I won’t tell you to cut contact with her—she’s your soulmate. You couldn’t. But…” She exhaled, and shook her head. “I’ll get you some reading.”

She sent him off with a number of historical accounts about the tragedies of loyalty and heartbreak that could come from soulbonds divided by war, and wished that fate had been kinder.

---

Callum was quiet for days, after he learned the truth. He read through the books his mother gave him, even though they were long with tiny script and big words that he didn’t know, and felt more and more upset at the possibilities they implied for his future.

His soulmate…was an enemy. An elf. One of the people Aunt Amaya called bloodthirsty monsters.

He was short and brusque in his replies to her, for a while. He looked at the almost purplish hue of the shared skin with new eyes, and wondered what she looked like. Did she have horns? Pointy ears? The wrong number of fingers and toes? He’d wondered what she looked like before, of course, but…never in terms of how inhuman she might look.

She caught on to his strange behaviour very quickly. Did something happen? She asked him, through their skin, her handwriting its familiar blocky scrawl. You’ve been all quiet.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t sure how to reconcile his feelings towards Rayla, his closest friend and his soulmate, with the knowledge that she was an elf. Kind of, he wrote, in the end, heart heavy. He wished his mother hadn’t told him. He wished he didn’t know. I found some stuff out, and I don’t know what to think.

There was a pause while she washed the ink off. And then: Do you want to talk about it?

He didn’t. Not then. So he passed the following weeks, reading her usual reports of daily life, and wondering what exactly she was training for, day after day after day. Why such long hours, when she was so young? Who exactly was she planning on using those combat skills against?

They were heavy thoughts for a child as young as he was, but there was hardly any escaping them. He tried to focus on happier things, like his mother’s pregnancy, and the nigh arrival of his younger sibling. He tried to think of how Claudia was pretty and friendly and fun to talk to, and definitely wasn’t an elf. He tried to think of a lot of things that weren’t his soulmate, and failed fairly thoroughly.

In the end, after weeks of stilted conversation, he couldn’t take it anymore, and sat down with skin-ink and pen to write: You’re an elf, aren’t you.

She didn’t reply for a long time. But eventually, he felt the tickle of a pen-nib at the back of his hand, and retreated into private to peel off the glove. Yeah, she’d written, and nothing else. Not for a few minutes. Then: You’re a human.

It wasn’t a question. He hesitated, wiped off the ink, and wrote You knew?

Yeah, she said again, and then haltingly explained. Apparently, elves wrote their children’s names to their soulmates just like humans did, except they always included some sort of magic symbol, so her parents had known he was human the second his name came through without it.

He asked what hers was. He probably shouldn’t have, and she probably shouldn’t have answered, but she did. She drew a little symbol, and he took it carefully to his mother.

“Moonshadow elf,” she concluded, with honest sympathy, like someone offering condolences. “Like we thought. I’m sorry, Callum.”

‘I’m sorry’, like it was a death-sentence.

He sighed, and put his glove back on. “I’ll be careful.” He promised, quiet, and left to be alone.

---

Both of them were quieter, after that. There was less idle chatter. Less writing about their days, their experiences, the things that annoyed them and the things they enjoyed. He still wrote—he didn’t think he could have stopped himself if he tried. But there was a wariness between them now that he hated.

Still. There were at least some advantages to having an elf on the other end of his soulbond. Investigating rumours, for one. My friend says elves drink blood, he wrote, one day, with a sort of morbid interest. Is that true?

What?? No!! She wrote, furiously, and then underlined it twice and circled it for good measure.

She reciprocated, sometimes.

Is it true humans have extra fingers? She asked, and he responded by drawing his hand onto the back of his hand. Weird, was her response to that, and despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile.

---

I heard that in Xadia everything is magic, he wrote, one day. Is that true? What’s it like?

She hesitated a long while, then wrote I’m not supposed to talk about magic. Or Xadia.

It hurt, a little. But in the end, they both had their security lessons, and their people were still at war. There was nothing to be done.

Eventually, he wrote what had been on his mind for months, now. I wonder how we’ll meet, he said, with a twist of emotion that was half unease and half interest. It was on his mother’s mind, he knew, and it was certainly a thought he kept coming back to, for good reason.

Soulmates always met eventually, whether or not they contrived to. Even if they tried to avoid it…it would happen someday. His mother was worried about it. The circumstances under which a Prince of Katolis might meet an elf were almost exclusively unpleasant, after all. But he entertained childish thoughts of peace treaties and reconciliation, and clung to them, as unlikely as they might be.

I have no idea, Rayla answered him eventually, and he wondered if she was worried, too.

---

The next year or so was eventful for both of them. Callum’s little brother was born, and he instantly became utterly enchanted with him. He wrote to Rayla at considerable length about how tiny his fingers and toes were, how fuzzy his hair was, how he didn’t have a soulmark yet at all. He never wrote his name, because names were forbidden, but Rayla seemed entertained enough by the stories anyway.

Some time later, Rayla went quiet for a while, and was plainly subdued by something. Eventually, she admitted that her parents had agreed to taking a job that meant they had to go away. She wouldn’t see them more than once a year now, if that. Whatever job it was, it was supposedly an honour; but that didn’t help how much she missed them. She was living with her uncles, now.

You can write letters to them, maybe? He suggested. It wasn’t as good as the real-time writing between soulmates, but it was better than nothing.

I guess, she said, but didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it. Her life changed, but Callum’s went on.

---

And then Callum’s life shattered around him.

He shut himself in his room and cried for hours, burying his face in his hands, until tears were streaming between his fingers and his chest hurt and everything felt so awful he had no idea how to cope. How could he? She was gone.

Not much could carry across shared skin. But evidently, enough of the salt-water managed it for Rayla to be alarmed. By the time he checked what she’d written, the tears had smeared and diluted the inks, but the words were still recognisable. Is something wrong? She’d asked, hurried enough that it looked alarmed. Are you crying?

He nearly collapsed, when he went to get the inks. Could hardly see through tears when he wrote, lopsided and awful, My mom is dead. Writing it was terrible. An admission that it was real, it had happened, she was dead.

Rayla didn’t know what to say to that, and he could tell. She wrote I’m so sorry, Callum, and asked if there was anything she could do, if he wanted to talk about anything. But there wasn’t, and he didn’t. Mom was dead. What was there to talk about?

Eventually, perhaps for lack of anything else to try, Rayla drew him a little flower. She’d done it to try to make him feel better, and—and somehow, that made him start sobbing all over again.

A long way down the line, she asked him how it had happened. He couldn’t answer. Of course he couldn’t. That the Dragon King had killed her would reveal too much.

But saying ‘I can’t talk about that’ was revealing in its own way, too.

---

Years passed them by. Callum slowly pieced his life back together around the hole his mother had left, and learned to cope with the loneliness of being without her. His brother grew, and started talking, and swiftly became the dearest person in Callum’s life…except, perhaps, for the elf on the other end of his soulbond.

In many ways, things stayed the same. Callum hated his training and Rayla loved hers. He loved drawing—and became very good at it—and Rayla continued to hate water. She remained as stubborn and headstrong as ever, and she remained his friend.

Sometimes, he had no idea what he’d do without her. Soren was kind of an unpleasant friend, most of the time, and Claudia was always too occupied with her books or lessons or brother to answer his attempts to socialise. He had Ezran, of course, but without Rayla…he could only imagine how lonely he’d have been.

Sometimes he remembered all over again that she was an elf, and felt weird about how much he depended on her.

He still wondered how they’d meet.

---

King Harrow and Lord Viren, with very little warning, departed Katolis and rode into Xadia. There, they killed the Dragon King, and his son the Dragon Prince, and returned covered in a glory that Harrow’s bearing didn’t reflect. Callum wondered if the revenge had felt as hollow to enact as he felt to receive it. The one who killed mom is dead now, he thought, and didn’t feel vindicated. Didn’t feel happy. He just felt…empty. What was the use of it, so many years after her death? She was still dead.

He wished he could talk to Rayla about it. But if names were a forbidden topic, then revealing that his step-father had ridden into Xadia and killed their King…that was plainly out of the question. So he told her nothing.

He wondered if it was his imagination, that she’d grown quieter anyway. When she wrote, she seemed unhappy. Preoccupied, too.

Weeks passed, and she admitted that she was going to be travelling soon. She didn’t say why, or to where, or what for—all of that was proscribed. But she gave it as warning, anyway, that she’d be able to talk less while en route.

In the month that followed, the brevity of their contact left him lonelier than ever.

---

“You must be careful, Rayla.” Runaan said to her, in private, where the other assassins couldn’t hear. “For the first time, you are venturing into the human kingdoms. You must take particular care to avoid meeting your soulmate.”

“Everyone meets their soulmate eventually.” She muttered back to him, fingers resting reflexively over the guard on her left hand.

He was unmoved. “Yes. But, with luck, you can avoid it taking place on this mission.”

It was, in fairness, a very important mission. She sighed. “I’ll do my best.” She promised, though it wasn’t exactly within her control.

When the Full Moon was nigh, and the bindings tight around her wrists, Rayla broke into Katolis Castle and went looking for her quarry.

The first non-soldier she found was a young human boy, maybe around her age. She didn’t know how old Prince Ezran was, but she knew he wasn’t an adult, and…according to what she’d been taught, this boy was wearing pretty high-quality clothes. If he wasn’t Ezran, he should at least know who was.

She chased him. She cornered him. He said, “I am Prince Ezran,” and looked up at her with a resolve and solemnity that didn’t quite manage to mask his fear.

It hit her, then, looking down the length of her blade towards the face of this human boy waiting to die. It hit her that—that he was afraid, that he didn’t want to die, that he was a person, as much as she was, as much as her soulmate was, he was a human just like Callum and she was here to kill him—

But…she had to do it. She had to. She’d bound herself, it was her mission, it was the justice that the Dragon Prince deserved. She had to.

It was in the midst of trying to talk herself into it, and him trying to talk her out of it, that a child’s voice emerged from behind a painting.

It said, “Callum”, and she only had a moment for her blood to freeze before, at her feet, the terrified human boy, the boy who had claimed to be Prince Ezran, the boy she’d been about to kill—

He answered. He responded. It was his name.

What were the chances that she’d meet someone named Callum—the correct age, the correct species, everything—and it wouldn’t be her soulmate?

The painting edged open, revealing a younger human boy with some sort of weird pet. A pet she’d heard descriptions of, held in the arms of a child she’d been hearing about since he was born, looking worriedly between her and the boy she had at swordpoint—

She realised she’d been frozen for too long. She realised that, one way or another, she had to be sure. She reached over, and hit herself hard on the back of her left hand.

The human, in an instant and involuntary motion, flinched and gripped the back of his own left hand. Her heart thudded, and— it only took him a second to realise—

His eyes went wide. He glanced wildly between her and his hand, undoubtedly registering that she was a Moonshadow elf, that she was the right age, that she was—

“Rayla?” He squeaked, and if she hadn’t already known for certain, that would have told her.

She lowered her sword, utterly struck by how much of a disaster this was.

“Shit.” She said, succinctly, and stared at the astounded face of her soulmate.

What in Xadia’s name was she supposed to do now?

---

Notes:

I’ve adored this piece ever since I wrote it in Whenever, Early 2020. Really, really thrilled to be able to share it with everyone at last. As you can tell, it ends on a pretty rude cliffhanger. It’s always invited follow-up, and I think I knew from the moment I finished it that I’d be continuing it someday. And so I did! Eventually!!

According to my discord message history, I began writing chapter 2 in February this year, 2021. I probably wrote the following two chapters within a mad haze in the same week or two, knowing me. The chapters are uncharacteristically short, considering my usual habits, but it felt right for the story. I’ve completed up to the end of chapter 4, and have nothing written after that yet.

Minor edits have been made from the zine version, including some formatting, but nothing drastic. Writing this piece in general was a challenge. There was so much I wanted to include – about the differences in Callum’s life, about Ezran’s soulmate – that I had to cut out because of the word count restriction. Ultimately I opted not to edit that back in for the online version, and simply fill it in organically through the rest of the story. There’s some really interesting stuff, and the story as a whole is going to be wildly canon-divergent.

Some worldbuilding details: - platonic soulmates are considerably more common than romantic ones - there’s some cool weird soulmate metaphysics re: magic

I think I’ll keep it vague and let everyone discover how I’m doing soulmates for themselves, though. Hope everyone enjoyed! Would really love comments on this one; I’ve been waiting so long to share it and I’m so excited.

(also I’m fully aware that the fic’s acronym is ASS, and I’ve decided to embrace this)

#rayllum #rayllumzine #tdp fic #soulmate AU #tdp callum #tdp rayla #god I'm so excited for this fic you don't even know #I've been sitting on the extra chapters for months now #Across Shared Skin

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