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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Unwanted Guests: Diminuendo | Morpheus x Reader

[WARNING: description of torture, kidnapping, spoilers for 'Season of Mists']

{'Unwanted Guests' -> Dream's guests seem suspiciously interested in his wife.}

{'Unwanted Guests: Crescendo' -> The night takes a different turn when Azazel reveals mortifying leverage.}

SUMMARY: The responsibility for Hell is now in the Angels' hands but Dream's torment continues. Now that he can not give Azazel what he wants, Morpheus must find another way to get you back. The simplest plans, I hear, are usually the best.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.1k

From Old English, 'nightmare' is derived from the words 'night' and 'mare'. In German and Slavic mythology, a mare is an evil creature that sits on people's chests while they sleep, giving them terrifying dreams as well as suffocating them. Accentuating the importance of nighttime, one might argue that a nightmare is not, in fact, an abstract term for an unpleasant dream but rather a creature of darkness feeding off the sleeper's fear. Such an interpretation poses another fascinating question: where does the nightmare go when people are awake?

Dream stands in front of his guests empty-handed. Preying eyes stare at him in anticipation like vultures waiting for the deer to finally fall dead. He wonders whether they can tell just how disturbed he is.

"Even if I wanted to, I can not give you the key," he announces. A quiet murmur of confusion sparks among the guests. Did he find their offers underwhelming? "For I no longer have it."

A loud scoff of angered disbelief followed by Thor's groan. Someone is speaking in a raised voice but it's hard to decipher what they're saying, echo of the spacious hall muffling all words. Arms thrown in the air. Exchanged suspicious glances - Is there a thief among us?

"Then who does?!" emerges from the agitated crowd.

A flutter of wings. The distant, ethereal sound of harps and trumpets. A beam of bright, white light appears from nowhere. It blinds the gathered people, momentarily putting a stop to their brawls-to-be. Two broad silhouettes float above all heads.

"It is true that Dream of the Endless no longer has the key to Hell in his possession," one of the angels speaks. His voice is melodic, strangely calming as though its sound corresponds to something intrinsic to the particles of this world. Both of them have such delicate, beautiful faces, it's difficult to guess their gender. "We do. It is His Name's will that there must be a Hell. Now we will be its overseekers."

A divide among the guests. Some nod in defeat, while others seem to only grow more agitated. Whispered speculations begin to make rounds - Dream of the Endless surely could deny His Name. What was he really offered, then? Someone is elbowing through the crowd, much to the other guests' audible dismay.

Azazel stands before Morpheus. His countless fangs snarl and sneer at the host. There was one more issue to resolve. "This isn't what we agreed to, Ruler of Dreams," he spits. The seemingly immaculate plan had failed and demons, as it befits them, make quite sore losers.

Morpheus looks in Azazel's direction but not necessarily at him - through him appears to be more accurate. His arms look tense as he crossed them on his chest. "I had made no arrangement with you, Azazel."

The demon laughs inching towards Dream, taunting him. "You seem to forget that I still hold your dearest wife captive," he announces loudly. Out of the corner of his many eyes, Azazel glances at the guests, anticipating a reaction.

A salve of gasps. The crowd is whispering again. If Bast did not have fur, she'd surely be red by now. Her fists are clenched so tight, they begin to tremble. Even Thor appears somewhat sober and not as hungover as he was just moments ago. Less-than-inconspicuous fingers pointing between the arguing two.

"No, I haven't forgotten your transgression." Although speaking in a calm voice, Morpheus appears as anything but collected. His stern answer makes the whispering quiet down as the prying eyes yearn to follow the unforeseen confrontation. "Even if you did return her to me on your own, I am obliged to punish you. But not only do you refuse to end this indignity - you also seem to think I owe you something in return for someone you have no claim to take as your own. You have offended me in my own home, Azazel. And I'm angry."

"Oh, colour me frightened," the demon sneers. By all means, he's convinced of his undoubted advantage. "Whatever will you do, Lord of Dreams."

Morpheus doesn't answer right away. He's just standing there, vacant eyes appearing more disturbing than usual. "Exactly what it takes." The words come out almost in a whisper.

Darkness. Silence. Cold.

Azazel's plan could have been infallible had he accounted for one detail: he was at the heart of Dreaming, where the only law is its king's word. And the king, knowing every thought to be ever entertained, knows many of them.

Echo of slow footsteps. Something is approaching but it's so dark Azazel can't make out even an outline. He can't move.

"I've always known you're good for nothing, Azazel," a mellow yet cold voice resounds in the room.

Lucifer.

The blond locks emerge from the darkness like cockroaches crawling from underneath loose floorboards. "I'm sick of you," he spits out, his cheeks raised in contempt. "Always looking where you're not supposed to, speaking useless, foul lies. You disgust me, Azazel. Always have."

He can't answer. His mouths refuse to speak and his eyes can not look away from the fallen angel. Lucifer's pale hand raises as he reveals a red-hot cautery.

"You shall neither see nor speak until you learn."

In a swift movement, Lucifer rips out a handful of Azazel's teeth. The cautery inches towards one of the eyes, slowly burning it until the blunt end pierces the eyeball. This is only the beginning of eternity.

Morpheus examines the glass bottle with Azazel meticulously stuffed inside. Nothing on the outside reveals what torments are happening to the exclusive occupant of the vessel. The flask is humorously tiny in his hand. It could shatter under a stern glance or a severe gust of cold, winter wind. Carefully, he places it in his pocket, planning to stash it along with many trinkets he has gathered so far. Azazel's case could be put at the back of a metaphorical shelf - Dream has time, a lot of it, in fact. To make things relatively worse, he has a habit of dwelling on his hurts.

"Thank you for coming." He's saying that to his guests but his attention is undoubtedly placed elsewhere. The visitors awkwardly stare at each other, never disputing his hospitality. "Return to your homes."

Effortlessly, he picks up your unconscious body from the marble floor. Without another word, he disappears around the closest corner, marching as far from the unwanted visitors as he can (Have these corridors always been this long and twisted?). Despite having you returned safe and sound, Morpheus makes a silent promise not to let you out of his sight ever again - beginning from that very moment, as he gently lies you down on a bed. Sitting next to you, his eyes do not dare flicker away until you wake up.

____

A/N: Excellent news, you guys! My novel should be published around 31st August of THIS YEAR. Five months until I can officially say I have accomplished by biggest dream and I'm only 21.

#the sandman fandom #the sandman imagine #the sandman x reader #the sandman fanfiction #morpheus sandman #morpheus imagine #morpheus #lord morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus fanfiction #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless imagine

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

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Number 26 of the smut prompts with Unburied Riddler?

“I can’t wait until we get to the bedroom-I need you, and I need you now!”

Idk I just like the thought of that man being desperate and begging…

💚💚💚💚

I Need You

Batman Unburied!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.1k yeah you're right, begging and whining are his literal hobbies i think. i just cannot be normal about him and i will go insane if we don't get more of him plus an official artist's interpretation of him 💚 (it's actually more... gn!reader with a vagina btw but i put female for the sake of first glance intros y'know?) request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: flirting, begging, persistant eddie, awkward sex

Walking beside you, slightly behind and occasionally stepping on the back of your shoes, Eddie followed you, very law-abidingly, through the streets of Gotham. Sunglasses and hat on, he was in about as much of a disguise as you could get him in, but most of the people wouldn’t have looked twice at him in the street with or without the accessories. Outside of his Riddler costume, he really was just another guy. That’s what made him so dangerous though, you mused, as he kicked your heel again.

But his knowledge of the criminal mind, and his well-documented intellect, meant that he was sought after by the GCPD to assist with criminal investigations. In the past, you had worked well with him. Too well. There was something about him, something that meant you were willing to risk your reputation and career for him. Although, at this moment in time, it was difficult to remember what that was, and far easier to remember everything about him that irritated you.

“Eddie. I swear to god I will break your ankles and carry you on my back.”

“I’m not going to argue, actually. I would like to be carried. Like a wittle baby.”

He made a pouting face and then laughed at his own dumb joke.

“Oh, come on! We’ve been walking around for soooooo long! When are we going to get there.”

“it’s not my fault you wanted something to eat. I get you out on day release to help me and you demand that we go get food first?”

“I did. Yes. You don’t even want to know about the unpalatable shit they serve to us in there. It’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying. But to get somewhere that has a decent hygiene rating, I’m afraid we’ve got another couple of blocks to go.”

“Uh, fine. I guess after that we can swing by your place and I can have a nap or something.”

“Why would you think that was an option?”

“Hmmmm… because we both know that there isn’t actually a case for me to help you with.”

You turned to face him, the movement so quickly he hadn’t realised you had stopped, both of you knocking into one another on the street.

“How did you… Yes there is!”

“No there isn’t! You broke me out as an excuse to see me. No conjugal visits in the maximum security wing, after all.”

You scoffed, trying to pretend that he didn’t have you completely. And there wasn’t much use in denying it now. Really, it had only been a matter of time before he realised the truth of your plan, and you wondered how long ago he had worked it out.

“When did-”

“Just after you called and asked if I could help. You’re so predictable.”

Rolling your eyes you walked away from him, the sounds of his feet running after you as you crossed the street and entered a diner. After fuelling up, you left the diner reluctantly, worrying about how to approach the delicate subject of the true intentions behind his assistance. He knew what you wanted from him, but you knew that he was likely to be an unforgiveable tease about it. And so, mulling over the options in your mind, you were happy to listen to him chattering away as you walked to your apartment.

“Oh my god that was so good. Seriously, that was maybe the best meal I’ve had. And I saw the sweat from the chef’s forehead drip into a pan. But I ate every last drop. I really had forgotten what real food tasted like!”

Stepping quickly to your back he grabbed at your ass playfully.

“Forgot what you tasted like too.”

You turned to scold him, but he interrupted you with a kiss.

“Eddie! My apartment is like fifteen more minutes away. Do you think you could be sensible enough not to engage in anything to inappropriate out in public?”

An irritating, high-[itched mewling whine erupted from his pout.

“I can’t wait until we get to the bedroom though. I need you! And I need you now! Pleaseeeeee.”

The long, drawn-out begging was grating on your ears, but it tugged at something deeper inside of you. The desire to feel needed or wanted? You didn’t want to do any pop-psych on yourself in that moment though. Truthfully, you were desperate for him as much as he seemed to be for you.

“Come on! This alley… looks deserted… if you’re into that kind of thing?”

Looking down into the dim, disgusting walkway, you turned back to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you really need to ask that?”

“Well, that answers that question then.”

His arms were pulling at you as his lips met yours, dragging you back with lust into the shadows and pressing you against the wall where he kissed you harder. Frantically pulling at your pants until you started to slide them down on your own, letting him fumble with his own zipper and belt. When he had his cock free, he spat in his hand, stroking the length before he pressed in close to you again. Angling his cock against your lips, you inhaled softly at the sensation of the tip on your skin, the slight, although hesitant and kind of clumsy, spreading of your legs as he tried to get better access to you.

“Ok… this… it’s the angle… I can’t…”

You tried to shift against him, but he stepped back.

“Could you like… bend over or something?”

I really, really don’t want to scrape my hands on this disgusting wall… it’s bad enough my jacket is now going to have to be burned for touching it.”

“Ok well… I dunno…”

He looked around the alley before his eyes settled on something further up.

“Oh!”

Skipping towards a pile of old boxes, holding his pants over his still hard cock. Stopping at them, the rotting wood damp with mold, he gestured with his hands like he was displaying the top prize on some tacky gameshow. With a smile, he propositioned you.

“Huh?”

“I am not leaning over that disgusting trash.”

He groaned, seemingly exasperated with your entirely reasonable desire to not get tetanus from fucking him.

“Look, this is supposed to be hot and kinda dirty. You need to stop being so picky.”

“If I wasn’t so picky with men, I wouldn’t have to break you out of prison for a quick fuck.”

“Oof, touché.”

You rolled your eyes at him, pants pulled back up, arms folded across your chest.

“Please, come o-o-on!”

Your spine shivered at the shrill sound of his begging.

“Maybe we should just wait until we’re somewhere clean. Where no one will see me. With you.”

You turned to leave the alley, Eddie slowly making up the distance behind you, all the while whining and pleading. And crouching slightly to hide his erection.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #bu riddler #batman unburied riddler #batman unburied!riddler

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bronyinabottle · 3 years

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MY LITTLE PONY: A NEW GENERATION (G5 Movie) THOUGHTS

It’s finally here. The beginning of Generation 5. Though before I get into the movie in some detail I’m going to reiterate one more time what G5 means for my content and a non-spoilery summary of the movie.

Again, I will say that the movie nor will the G5 series coming later have much of an effect at all on any of my blogs. The revelation in Secrets of the Dragon’s Tear that life itself is also magic means that a world that implied to have no magic for years would mean the extinction of all life (Perhaps resulting in the wasteland we saw in the Season 5 finale). There may be something I’ll probably do at some point on a certain different blog. But even then, that may likely be a one-time thing and probably come around the time the series is starting to air.

That said, just because I’m continuing with mainly G4 content doesn’t mean I disapprove of G5. In fact, my non-spoilers thoughts on the movie is I think it is a good start for this new generation. There are questions I have that I’m not sure will be answered (Though many of those questions are the same ones I had in my Trailer/Preliminary thoughts) quickly enough. But the movie is structured well enough, in fact it’s probably a better movie as a whole compared to any of the movies G4 had (The 2017 movie, Rainbow Roadtrip, and all 4 Equestria Girls movies). As the 2017 movie was fun, but it jumped around a lot, sometimes scenes transitioning too fast. And while Rainbow Roadtrip may have been this on purpose, the entirely slice-of-life story taking up a long length… made it something of a less interesting plot to follow. It feels like some of that special could of been cut to at least a two-parter length and keep the same beats they hit. And while i have a soft spot for the 3rd and 4th Equestria Girls movies, I’ll always say a full-length pony adventure feels better suited for what I want to see out of MLP then spin-off movies with high school movie cliches and weird pony/human world shenanigans.

So movie-wise I’m not a G4 purist. It’ll take some time to see how Gen 5 compares to Friendship is Magic when we get to the series. As I feel it’d take a lot for it to surpass G4 in my mind. But I’m going to try to be as fair as possible and judge on it’s own merits. The implied connection to G4 by referring to G4 being ancient Equestria is going to naturally get the staff and hasbro pressured by fans to tell us what happened in-between the generations. Because that’s the trap they put the writers in when they made it so they want to try to say it’s in the same universe. That’s the double-edged sword Hasbro chose to have, trying to appease the G4 fanbase and keep at least some of them around. But at the cost of questions both nitpicky (Such as character design being inconsistent) or actual honest questions that need to be known (Why did magic disappear, and what happened to the Alicorns) for some of us to truly see this as the same Equestria.

After the break, I’ll have more spoilery thoughts

Even for a brief moment, it was nice seeing the Mane 6 and 2D animation. The former because of course those are the ponies many of us that saw all of G4 loved. And the latter, because while the animation wasn’t bad in this movie. I’m one of those who’d prefer to have 2D animation in an animated film. As in most cases aside from Pixar, it’s just a strong preference of mine. If this had the animation of the 2017 MLP movie but otherwise everything else was generally the same here, I feel that would of have been great.

I wish they didn’t have to have Sunny’s dad die off-screen, as he seems like he could of been a compelling character. And not to mention if perhaps he has any connection the “ancient” days in any fashion. But *sigh* I get it, it’s an old trope where part of the character’s offscreen growth is not having their parent(/s) around.

On a side note there’s quite a few times during the beginning of the movie that somewhat foreshadow what happens to Sunny later. 3 times where she had a fake horn and wings on her. Once in the flashback, then 2 separate times when she’s doing her protest where she has her own costumed wings and horn. As well as the helmet and mechanical wings.

Also, there’s no way around it. Some of the discussions this movie are going to get quite political. (Namely one part of Sunny’s song that could be seen as having a double meaning of a jab at Trumpsts regarding “Building your wall”) From the very premise in the early times, we know that the inspiration for the story was last year’s Black Lives Matter protests. Which honestly, I do support the message they’re going for. Having an anti-racism message to tell kids from the very beginning and making a focus on it is important when in G4 it only got briefly touched upon in Bridle Gossip and the Heath’s Warming Eve play. Although it certainly rose up to some form of prominence with Season 8 and onward. Still, while you can argue if G4 executed the anti-racism message well. it does come with something of a problem that the series finale left Equestria in the least divided it’s ever been.

And personally, I feel it’s a terrible interpretation of time to say “Well, it’s a realistic take. Racism has existed for years in our world. Same should go for the ponies” and while yes, racism is still rampant in today’s world. That said, that ignores that if we went from The Last Problem to the start of G5. There’s a huge difference between our world and Equestria. There is no ancient civilization that we look at like “Yeah, those were the golden days of world peace” when normally the “Golden age” was reserved for the high classes of Ancient Greece or Rome. It was most decidedly not perfect, with slavery rampant and wars for the sake of expanding an empire. While if you look at The Last Problem’s Equestria, you not only have peace between the three main types of ponies. But you literally have non-pony citizens in Equestria. You can see a dragon handing off a flower to a pony which can imply cross-species romantic relations. With the Friendship school still going strong, and was the reason that the world was saved in The Ending of the End. While perhaps it may be too glowing to say that future is perfect for everyone even in-universe. It’s certainly a hell of a lot better outlook then comparing to how we view even the so called Golden age of ancient civilizations. The Last Problem’s Equestria implies it looks to ally with every country outside of Equestria, not conquer them.

So it should still be a valid question on just how this world collapses to the point it gets to where G5 is at the start. I at least assume that it’s not the fault at all of any of the Mane 6 nor Twilight. Or at least I hope it isn’t, as I’d rather the MLP fanbase not have to deal with a The Last Jedi Luke Skywalker situation. (Where after the joyful end of the original trilogy, things go wrong as Luke almost murders the son of one of his best friends and his sister despite trying to hard and succeeding at redeeming his father who at that point in the canon was a galaxy-wide known ruthless mass-murderer.) I assume we’re at a point where everyone of the Mane 6 sans maybe Twilight are presumed dead. And even in Twilight’s case, there’s a chance that G5 decides to say that G4 overestimated the whole Alicorn immortality thing. Though I wouldn’t put it past Hasbro to have some event where the Mane 5 of G5 meet the Mane 6 in some special event whether that’s a a Season finale or a sequel movie/special. Where either the Mane 6 return in a limbo situation similar to the Pillars at the end of Season 7 or Time travel gets involved. They may even string us along on answering just what in the heck happened until they involve a meet-up with the Mane 6 in that way. Though I hope they don’t, I’d really like the beginning of the series (Or I guess this supposed special coming up in Spring supposedly?) starts to answer some questions. G5 should get a chance to stand on it’s own, but I hope the writers are actually well aware there will be so many questions people have and address them in the show. A cynical part of me feels like they’re likely to string us along until at least the Season 1 finale.

Onto the characters for a bit. I think Izzy Moonbow was absolutely the most stand-out character in the whole movie. She was energetic, funny, and aside from “The pegasi are bad news” she along with Zipp and Sunny were the most averse to the way the world was. She was already the most popular due to the tennis ball memes. But now it feels like she legit stands on her own and most certainly deserves to be the most popular character of G5 thus far. Behind her in a bit of a surprise to me was Zipp, who I thought would be mainly a Rainbow Dash-expy. Though she really helps out Izzy and Sunny in Zephyr Heights. Despite having Twilight be my favorite pony from the very beginning of G4 all the way to the end, I didn’t feel as strongly about Sunny for some reason. So she’s in the middle of the pack, she could grow on me later. I just don’t know if I click with her as much as I did with Twilight. As for the last two, while I don’t hate either of them. Either one could be the lowest of the 5 for one reason or another. Pipp (Although I will say she's probably my favorite character design out of the 5) feels like she doesn’t do a whole lot in the movie and it takes until she’s forced to be an outlaw because the other choice was to get imprisoned like her mother was. So she may come off as quite pretentious, though it’s arguable Rarity was the same way early in G4. But she definitely grew later. Could be the same case for Pipp. And as for Hitch, he has shining moments in the film. But what might hurt him is the fact he was such a bad friend to Sunny up until the campfire scene. “I’m the last real friend you have. You really want to lose me too?” is not a healthy friendship. Hitch may have been Sunny’s friend the longest, but it definitely feels like Izzy connected immediately. I don’t know if this show will get into shipping any of the main characters between each other mid-show, but if they do. I hope it’s between Izzy and Sunny currently, cause Hitch and Sunny just gives bad vibes even with Hitch getting better later.

None of the songs I felt were particularly too special. Though I think the closest was Sprout’s “Danger, Danger” song that has similarities to Smells Like Teen Spirit in some parts of the song since I tend towards more rock/metal-esque music.

I touched upon it earlier, but there’s perhaps a stand-out reason for why the G5 movie outdid the 2017 MLP Movie. They have the typical “Our heroic group splits after a sad moment before coming together again for the climatic good end” in Sunny seeing that that the two crystals don’t instantly bring magic back, and when Twilight left the group after an argument that happened with Twilight trying to take a pearl. They perform the same purpose in the movie. But the crystals not working, crushing Sunny’s hope for a little while works better into the story. Where as Twilight’s part frustratingly brought the sea pony scene to an end too quickly and/or doesn’t feel right of Twilight to have done that. It felt forced in the 2017 movie, but works out in the G5 movie. Especially since a part of it is that it’s not the crystals themselves capable of bringing magic back. But it’s the journey going after the crystals that brings the ponies themselves their magic back.

Just a small note on dictator Sprout, he tries to cause a war. Though admittedly the film seems to treat him as a joke the entire time despite his seriously evil ambitions. With the only repercussions is he gets a wishy-washy answer on if he was a good sheriff from his mom. I don’t quite know how I feel about that yet, but I wonder what they’ll have in mind for Sprout given his actions. He and his mom are the only ones that feel like a true antagonist. Though they seem to be ok with things fast when the magic comes back.

But anyway on to the ending, we see that Sunny becomes an Alicorn. Which I guess with no other real Alicorns around, I guess it makes sense to alicornify her since she’s the real leader behind what united the leaders of each type of pony again. Though there is of course this weird thing where her horn and wings don’t seem like as much a part of her body compared to very obvious connected wings on Twilight when she got hers. Sunny keeps her horn and wings to the end of the movie, and has colored streaks in her hair. Though I do wonder if that;s truly permanent. If it is permanent, I suppose at least they got to have a headstart and have it established at the end of the introductory movie rather then have it shock people at the end of a shortened 3rd season. I still feel like Twilight had well earned her alicornhood considering that besides what she did in the series. She has a whole childhood and time as a teenager learning under Celestia. Which had to mean something, and I’m not sure Celestia just leaving her to live the rest of her days with her friends in ponyville was that. Sunny has no doubt been trying countless time to try to spread friendship throughout her life even after the tragedy of her father’s passing. So there’s no doubt she’s been through a lot, and may indeed be worthy of being an Alicorn at this point. Though in terms of screentime before Alicornhood it's definitely a lot less then Twilight had. And it is at least nice to see that it is possible for non-unicorns to become one. (The only case of that we sort of got was a children's book that may or may not be canon that implied Cadence was a pegasus before she ascended)

Though you have to wonder if the visual differences such as Sunny’s alicorn horn and wings, the cutie mark only on one side (Yes I know that’s how it was normally in the MLP generations before G4. But a distinct visual difference between shows is still noticeable even if the context of G4’s cutie marks on both sides of the flank was about it being easier on the puppets for Flash), and how animals can have wings or weird round shapes such as those bunnies when G4 has normal looking animals. There’s enough striking visual differences for any nitpicky G4 to say “This isn’t the same Equestria”. And if someone tries to say maybe some sort of evolution happened. That’s still trying to put a little too much real world logic on this fantasy world. And evolution tends to take millions of years to have such dramatic changes. Not 1000 years or so, there should still be normal looking animals at this point and time. And these small details are probably going to be the things most ignored but nonetheless can build a case that this isn’t the same Equestria. Even if they touch on the important questions like how magic disappeared and what happened to the Mane 6, there will be details they make different that will add to the case that this is it’s own universe if it doesn’t quite matchup with what was remembered about G4. There will be fans who will be that nitpicky to call G5 out of continuity for small details like that. That is again the trap they put themselves in when they decided to try to say it’s the same Equestria.

All-in-all though, I think that’s at least a good enough chunk about my thoughts on the movie to end off here. If there’s something I missed or something from the movie you’d like me to give a particular opinion about or elaborate on something feel free to ask me here. G5 is indeed off to a good start, just I will be along the many hoping some questions get answered sooner then later. And I’m not sure I’m confident in getting anywhere until a Season finale or a 2nd movie. And it’ll be a year before the series starts proper (Though again I guess there’s a 44 minute special coming in Spring to try to hold us over). But I could definitely see G5 finding it's own following, now there's just the inevitable clashes between some of the more vocal fans of each generation bickering at eachother. But hoping there will be enough that take the movie's lessons on divisiveness to heart and be able to enjoy both even if there may be preferences.

#mlp #my little pony #g5 #mlp g5 #netflix #my little pony the next generation #my little pony movie #generation 5

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#Yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #yami yugi #S5 #Ep20 #It's actually Ep 20 now I was wrong last time #Yugi muto #Grandpa Muto #Alexander the Great #Joey Wheeler #Tristan Taylor #Tea Gardner #TeaxYugi #never thought I would ever use that tag #in this show where they are canonically dating but sometimes it happens #Puzzles and Dragons #Because yes I had to talk about it. This collab is great

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

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Guardian of the lost soul

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: if what the reader dress as an angel (kinda like Supernatural angels) and she finds the scoobies gang in the haunted house with the costumes magically change them. (you know the episode ^-^) only this time , Spike sees her wings and in angel terms that's a soulmate.

Requested by: @everlastingartist

A/N: Kind of a soulmate au I think? I am not familiar with the Supernatural angels (yet - I plan on actually watching it soon) I did google them and I’m still none the wiser lol. So this is my own interpretation of what was requested! I chose a guardian angel, and twisted it in my own way. It is very made up but that’s what I’m here to do!

Also I mashed up two Halloween episodes together for this one but Spike doesn’t have a chip. Not even a soul. But he finds his soulmate.🖤🦇

You loved Halloween in Sunnydale, it never disappointed. The pumpkins were freshly carved, there was candy everywhere you turned and kids really did love dressing up and making a nuisance of themselves. Even when you were running for your life the mood always picked up somewhere after midnight. And hey, being friends with a very protective Slayer had its benefits.

You were basically skipping around the streets, you were excited about going to the haunted house. You had tried to convince Willow, along with buffy to take the ghost costume off but she flat out refused. Even when you begged all the way to the party. You wanted to get to the end so you could join the party with your friends and you waited briefly for everyone to show up so you could enter together. While you and Willow waited outside, a figure in a dark cloak pushed past you. There was something about them that you recognised but they muttered some insult at you for being in their way so you decided to just ignore them. Eventually, everyone arrived and you were able

You had chosen to dress as an angel. A guardian angel. Not the stereotypical kind, one you had read of in some of Giles’ thick mythology books. You had been bored and the passages had been surprisingly interesting in an I’m-so-bored-I’d-read-the-back-of-a-cereal-packet kind of way. It spoke of the kinds of angels, of the truth about how they operate rather than those spoken of in popular culture. Some of your costume was white however as you wanted people to at least recognise what you had come as (although nobody except Willow had got it).

You went through the various rooms together and had a laugh at some of the more ridiculous spooks in the house. There had been a slight tension a few words exchanged but mostly you were having a nice time. Everyone was squabbling over which way to go next and you had lost interest, managing to break away from the others.

As you did this, you saw the hooded figure again. You were sure you recognised the flashes you had seen of the person’s face. You left your friends for a moment to tap them on the shoulder and who should turn to face you but the big bad of the moment. Spike. You hadn’t faced him alone yet but he had always singled you out when you were with the others. The conversation always turned suggestive, which annoyed Buffy to no end and made you try to hide yourself when you were with the others.

You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t love the attention though. Hope that he would catch your eye. You longed for even a moment alone with him, although you were well aware of the danger. You couldn’t help like him but there was no way you would ever admit that to your friends.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to suppress a smile.

“Thought I’d drop by… see what tasty… treats Halloween has to offer” He closed the space between you as his voice became a little huskier with every step. His hand was on the wall, palm flat against it. His arm blocking you in as he slowly scanned your body before returning to your face.

“What has the devil got in store for you this Halloween do you reckon pet?” He asked, the smirk audible in his voice, “Somethin’ naughty no doubt…” He added, biting his lip teasingly.

“I’m an angel. Always preferred them anyway” You shrugged. It had been a very low blow and when you saw his expression darkening into anger rather than lust, you backtracked – knowing better than to get him mad, “To the devil, I mean”

“Bollocks – where are the wings? The halo? And you’re not foolin’ anyone wearing that white-” he gestured wildly to the corresponding area where each item should have been with the hand that wasn’t leaning against the wall. You smiled, about to respond when someone interrupted.

“Spike!” Buffy shouted, having turned to find you in the haunted house. She was relieved to see you (as she had lost the others) but she was not pleased to see the vampire that still had you boxed in, pressed pretty close against you.

Buffy made light work of hauling him away and trying to throw him out of the house completely. She tried to find the front door but it had gone. You were now aware you were trapped inside this now truly haunted house. No, it was worse. It had turned into a murder house as half the student body upstairs had started to scare themselves to death almost before the real threat had.

Everyone was rushing past you and as Spike smelled fresh blood, he ran in the opposite direction to where the others were coming from, straight into the carnage. His stomach was rumbling and he was ready for a decent meal.

Everything was going on at once and you wanted it to slow down, or at least give you chance for a breather. There were too many threats at play tonight. As if the powers had requested it this way, a busy scene of threat and revelations for their own personal enjoyment.

As you tried again and again to leave and to help find the others, things started to get worse. You had now lost Buffy and were trying to find her by (you guessed it) calling out her name which was the best way to attract anything other than good luck. You had to fight off some cobwebs and now, your own body it seemed. You were hurting, doubled over. Something was happening. You sunk to your knees, grimacing. Nothing was going your way.

It was a strange night. The strangest Halloween you had experienced. The others were lost and at the same moment, Willow turned into a real ghost. Xander a real soldier and Buffy was now a genuine high society lady from the 1700s. It was spooky and not in a cute way.

You had managed to get to your feet, pulling on the cobwebs as they attacked your head again. As you looked down checking you had removed any stray webbing, you saw that you were glowing. Literally. You appeared human still - no wings or halos but there was a strange feeling that you had aged hundreds of years in just a few seconds. Not in appearance, that was still your skin and your face. But in knowledge. As if you had read every book known to man and then some. You felt powerful. Strange.

You walked around, able to know what was happening in every room. You managed to get places just by thinking about it. Able to protect people before they succumbed to the terrors the house had in store. You didn’t know how this was happening, but you knew better than to question it.

You had hope. You had a purpose and you were getting used to adapting to different people and their needs. That was until it came to something you needed. You turned and saw your friends through a two way mirror. They had all found each other but you couldn’t get to them. They were trying to remember who they were and come up with a plan. You started to panic, banging your fist on the mirror that you could see them through but they didn’t hear you. You hurriedly left through a side door to try and get to them seeing as your previous power wasn’t working. But you never made it to your friends. You had walked straight into someone. The one someone that you always managed to find, no matter what.

Spike had appeared. He seemed the same except... was that a heart beat? You frowned as he stepped towards you, the swagger still in tact.

“You listened to me then, pet? About time” He muttered as you looked at him confused. You didn’t understand. You looked around for some kind of clue until he spoke again, “The wings. You put ‘em on. Knew it would complete the look… not that you need to be wearing any more clothin’ items” He added, the trademark smirk on his face as he almost prowled towards you further.

“I’m not wearing any wings…” You said slowly as he came to stand right in front of you, leaving not so much as room to breath between you. He frowned, and looked behind you before looking back into your eyes. He could see the wings as clear as anything. They had a large wingspan, it was kind of impossible to miss. He reached out the touch them and you felt his fingers. You frowned, checking behind you. There they were, bat-like rather than the feathered kind you had expected and almost translucent whilst appearing closer to your skin tone. He found them aesthetically very appealing. Almost as if it were a part of you. He just stared, almost in awe as he felt they were warm the texture as soft as your skin.

It came to you suddenly. The folklore you had been researching. The mythology. The only one that may see the wings of the angel is their soulmate. Their one eternal love. It was said that every angel had a soulmate and that no matter how long they lived, they should find their soul no matter how seemingly impossible. No matter how many times they were lost, they would always be found. And you had found yours. Your love.

You and Spike had been less than useless during the fight to escape the haunted house and regain your own lives back. You were perfectly happy right here. Locked in each others gaze. A happiness neither of you had felt before until this moment. Until this revelation. You had been sharing. Talking so easily to one another. Him telling you stories of his past, and you surprising yourself with stories of your own. Ones that could match his. You felt an entrenched need to protect him. To hold you into him so that no harm could ever befall him.

The chaos going on around you was now secondary to your story. You holed up in a room together, Spike never looking away from you. The guardian angel in you was screaming for you to help the others again, but your heart was set on him. On relearning of your love. You had faith in your friends abilities anyway.

He leaned in, his thumb trailing your face and lingering near your lips. He had thought about this for so long. His usual crude quips had been founded in truth. Forged to both show how he felt and camouflage them at the same time. He felt for you so deeply his soul had made an unwitting appearance back into his life. Whenever you were around his heart felt as if it may break free from his ribcage in the hopes of greeting yours.

You closed your eyes as he did, the build up to this kiss achingly slow. You could feel his breath on his face he was so close. His touch was warm and familiar, his lips made for yours. You could feel it. The anticipation almost became too much as he finally grazed your lips.

But, just as suddenly as it was cast, the spell broke. The feeling of danger returned to your gut as you were in Spike’s presence. Your kiss never deepening. Your stomach flipping as you snapped opened your eyes. Spike’s vampire instincts kicked back in and it was resoundingly telling him that he was hungry. Your scent was so enticing to him, his face changed of its own accord. His fangs so close to you but you knew he wouldn’t kill you. You knew it as if it were fact. As if it were gravity or the colour of the sky being blue. Spike loved you and wouldn’t harm you. They were each true sentences, you had never been so sure.

Buffy, however, now fresh from being bound in the sensibilities of a woman with no aspirations other than to be pretty was ready for a fight. She had fought to escape the haunted house and now she would fight the nearest big bad in sight. Spike. She wrenched him from your neck.

But when he drew back, he had the same look in his eye as he had only moments before. Your soulmate was still right here in front of you, there was nobody that could convince you otherwise. And believe me, Spike really tried since then.

Buffy and Spike traded blows. Neither became victorious, but you were able to leave the house and Giles had somehow managed to force Ethan Rayne into reversing the curse he had put on your costumes.

After that long Halloween night, your mind barely stopped thinking about him. Sometimes you walked around after dark to see if he would come along and pretend to eat you as an excuse to just talk to you. He often wished to find an excuse to see you. Without knowing what it was, he felt it too. Deep within. Stronger since Halloween night. Sometimes he found himself standing around in places he knew you would frequent just so he could watch you. Catch a glimpse of you. Although, he had been doing this before Halloween as well.

You remembered so much more than that night, however. Memories that should have been long since buried of you and Spike finding each other over and over in other places and times still lingered as you wished his thumb still would along your jaw. You still remembered those memories and you wrote them all down before you could forget. They were like dreams, something you knew so well but struggled to recall in enough detail to satisfy.

You would forever carry a piece of his soul around with you now. That feeling just couldn’t go away, you wouldn’t let it. It was as if his soul were a locket hung around your neck. You would guard it with your life. Keep it close to your heart.

He would come back to you, you were sure of it and you were happy to wait until that day came.

#A very Buffy halloween #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #btvs x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gender not mentioned #soulmate au #kind of #Halloween #halloween fic #Halloween request

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mysteriouseggsbenedict · 3 years

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thoughts on TMBS episodes so far

I am resurrecting this account purely because I have nobody IRL to yell about this series with. This will be absurdly long. I just need to get this out of my system.

I will address a few of the things I’ve seen others talk about in this tag

1) Curtain’s lack of wheelchair: I actually am okay with this choice. This is one of the only things about the books that I think was possibly a poor decision, purely because of the possibility that it could be interpreted in an ableist way. The books are very clear in specifying that Curtain uses the chair because he is afraid of showing weakness and appearing out of control, which are his prime characteristics as a villain, but it’s still possible for someone (esp a child) to see it and make the association of “wheelchair = bad person.” I do really hope that he still does have narcolepsy and just hides it in some other way. I think that’s part of his character that should not be erased.

2) MR. BENEDICT IS PERFECT. THE WAY HE SAID “NEEDED” AND REYNIE REPEATED IT. THE WAY HE SAID HELLO TO THEM AND THAT THE BOATWRIGHT ACADEMY SCIENCE WING IS GOOD AND AGREED WITH CONSTANCE THAT HIS NARCOLEPSY IS WEIRD. I JUST LOVE HIM PHENOMENAL CASTING. NUMBER TWO AND RHONDA AND MILLIGAN ARE PERFECT. ALL OF THE CHILDREN ARE PERFECT EXCEPT KATE AND HERE’S WHY: beyond the lack of long blonde hair (I could live with this I guess since it’s purely a physical trait) she is far more aggressive and stubborn than book Kate. Apart from her choice to wait to ring the bell with Reynie and Sticky, she lacks the “breezy” personality the book often gives her. Her insistence on scaling the tower and reluctance to work as a team is not Kate-like.

3) I really enjoyed seeing the scenes of Mr. Benedict and Number Two and Rhonda from their POV when the kids send them messages. Although it broke my heart, seeing Mr. Benedict react to learning who Curtain is was an amazing thing to see develop his character that isn’t present in the books. The humanizing of him was phenomenal. Except he like...didn’t have narcolepsy anymore?? They didn’t show him fall asleep when he certainly would have while going through such strong emotions. I also wish Number Two and Rhonda had reacted more lovingly and affectionately. They sort of seemed still just thinking about the mission rather than taking care of him when he was clearly in a lot of pain and not taking good care of himself. I ALSO AM ANGRY THAT THEY MADE HIM LOSE TOUCH WITH CURTAIN (OR “NATHANIAL” LMAO) AT AGE TWELVE BECAUSE THAT ERASES THE EXTRAORDINARY EDUCATION OF NICHOLAS BENEDICT (SET WHEN HE IS NINE) AND THAT IS A TRAGEDY AND A SHAME.

5) it was kind of weird and interesting that they had the adults interpreting messages from the kids?? Like the reversal of “beware therefore the gemeni.”

6) THE LACK OF THE CHESS QUESTION AND THE WHITE KNIGHT SCENE AND THE LINE “PERHAPS BECAUSE HE DOUBTED HIMSELF” IS A WAR CRIME. THIS IS PROBABLY THE THING I MOST WISH THEY HAD INCLUDED. I NEED THIS SCENE. THIS SCENE GAVE MY ELEVEN YEAR OLD SELF THE WILL TO LIVE. I WOULD DIE FOR THIS SCENE

4) The institute. Okay. So, the character of Mr. Oshiro is very interesting and I’m looking forward to seeing if/how he becomes important. They changed the classes in a major way by making them have these interesting riddles rather than only repeating rote memorization. I noticed they did show shots of this happening in ep 3 but it’s definitely emphasized a lot less. Martina is wonderful. Mr. Bloom seemed too happy– the workers are supposed to be depressed. THE THING WITH PEOPLE GETTING KICKED OFF THE ISLAND? I feel like that was just the writers being like “we have to add spice we have to make people on the edge of their seats.” For some reason in my head I didn’t imagine such a futuristic, cool vibe for the interior design. I saw it as like cold and plain.

5) I don’t have an issue with SQ being Curtain’s adopted son because that’s like...basically what he is in the books just unofficially lmao. But if they don’t make him clumsy and forgetful we’ll have issues. SQ my darling you are perfect and precious and deserve better.

6) constance’s accent lmao I have no idea what this is for, I don’t think it changes her character at all, it’s just hilarious because she opened her mouth and I was like oh my lord is this child french?? I don’t even know what exactly it is. It sounds vaguely french. I’m here for it. Constance my love.

#the mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society disney plus #a bunch of smart orphans #carrying a bird #depends on the wagon #tmbs #the extraordinary education of nicholas benedict #nicholas benedict #reynie muldoon #kate wetherall #constance contraire #sticky washington

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idiopath-fic-smile · 3 years

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hey hi I've been trying to write something, anything, and what came out is like 3k of an extremely stupid supervillain/superhero story that I’d been kicking around in some form like over ten years ago. it doesn’t map onto any kind of an AU so I guess it’s original fiction? enjoy?

Cityton Chronicles, part 1

The problem with carrying out an evil scheme, thought Edmund, was the scheme part.

Anyone could nurse a sinister thought or two; it wasn't that hard to shake one's fist at the sky and murmur, “You'll pay for this. With God as my witness, oh, you will pay” and then maybe cackle a little. That much was child's play. (Literal child's play; he had witnessed more than a few dire pronouncements from his classmates at Hawthorne Grimmsbury's Academy for Ominous Boys, especially when recess was threatened.)

Actually going through with a plan was a whole different story. There were logistics to manage. There were people to manipulate, details to babysit, hypotheticals to anticipate. The nitty-gritty, as it were.

Edmund was not destined for the nitty-gritty.

Although, wasn't that what useless people always said? “I'm more of a big-picture person.” Maybe he was useless. Maybe that was the issue. Maybe Edmund Malarkey, heir to Malarkey Industries, was simply not cut out for masterminding.

Case in point, he had a terrible feeling he was about to make a complete hash of the Ritual.

The parameters were clear enough: full moon—check. Chalk for pentagrams—check. One hundred lit candles—check. (Some were scented; the store hadn't had enough plain tapers in stock, but the text of the Ritual had been written well before the notion of pumpkin spice was a cozy twinkle in some godless marketer's eye, and so Edmund figured this would probably not disqualify him.) Thirteen hooded figures, all in black...

This was where things got dicey.

The first sign of the trouble to come was when Carl showed up in navy fucking blue.

Edmund pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, breath crystalline in the late November air. The invitations had been so specific.

“It looked pretty dark online,” Carl offered as the wind whipped at them atop the roof of the Cityton Natural History Museum.

“Pretty dark? Pretty dark? Did it look like the blackest black?” said Edmund. “Did it look like Anish Kapur's most haunting nightmare? Did it look like a raven's wing in shadow at the stroke of midnight, Carl?” Carl stuck out his chin. “It's almost black.”

“Yes, and bananas and humans share about sixty percent of their DNA, we're almost cousins,” Edmund told him, dangerously quiet, “but fortunately for you, I'm not going to peel you and eat you in a fruit salad, you buffoonish optimist.”

Edmund should never have relied upon his father's former henchpeople. They were loyal to his father; they looked upon him with bemused tolerance. He should've just gone ahead and recruited all of the necessary twelve people from Craigslist. He'd held off due to a suspicion that anyone he found on the internet would assume the Ritual was fundamentally a weird sex thing, but at least a bunch of kinksters would have probably taken the rules seriously.

He sighed. “Carl, there's a bodega down on the corner. Go buy two black trash bags and make yourself a garbage-robe.” Carl frowned. “Is there time?”

Edmund checked his phone. Eleven fifty-three. “Hurry. And save the receipt.”

Another gust of wind kicked up. Edmund shivered. He'd been smart enough to request a fabric swatch ahead of time from the Etsy store where he'd custom-ordered his own set of hooded black robes. He hadn't stopped to consider how warm—or not—a single layer of said fabric would feel well into autumn, completely unshielded by the elements. Theoretically, he could've crammed a coat under the robes, like a child wearing a Halloween costume in an unseasonably cold October, but no, he hadn't wanted to look bulky.

He checked the candles again, for want of anything better to do.

“Boss,” said a hesitant voice behind him.

“What is it, Stephanie,” said Edmund.

Stephanie had clearly repurposed her teenager's old Hermione costume as her robes, but she had bothered to remove the Hogwarts branding, which was something, at least. Beyond the fact that Edmund didn't feel like giving a repellent transphobe any extra attention, there might have been copyright issues.

“Is that thing about bananas really true?”

“Yeah,” said Edmund. He had read it many years ago, in a book titled 2002 MORE WACKY FACTS TO BLOW YOUR MIND AND AMAZE YOUR FRIENDS, which didn't seem especially pertinent. He did a quick headcount. Even without Carl, they only numbered eleven. “Where's Donna?”

“You should call her,” said Stephanie. “Donna never answers her texts.”

Edmund had been halfway through tapping out a text. Ugh, Boomers. Calling was for emergencies only; everyone knew that. Unfortunately, this qualified. He gritted his teeth and dialed.

Donna answered on the fourth ring. “What?” She sounded groggy.

“Did you,” said Edmund, still through gritted teeth, “forget what night the Ritual was?”

“Oh shit,” mumbled Donna. “Are you sure? I thought it was at noon tomorrow. Carl told me twelve o'clock.”

“At night,” said Edmund. “Twelve o'clock at night, this is a dark incantation to a primordial god, it does not overlap with daytime television.”

Just then, Edmund's phone beeped with another call. “Can you hold, Donna,” he hissed.

“Hey boss,” said Carl, “the bodega only has white or green trash bags, what's my next step?”

“HOLD,” Edmund shouted, switching calls again. “Donna, can you grab an extremely dark-colored robe and be here immediately?”

“Like a bathrobe?” said Donna, sounding lost.

Of course Carl had not bothered to relay the dress code. Of course he hadn't even managed to hand her the painstakingly crafted invitation. Edmund had used the nicest card stock available to him, not that it mattered.

“Uh, boss?” Leroy called over the roar of the wind. Edmund flexed his stiffening fingers.

“One second, Donna,” said Edmund.

“How much longer is this gonna be?” said Leroy. “Because I was gonna catch the late show tonight—”

“Watch it on YouTube the next day like a normal person!” Edmund snapped. “Donna—”

“I can be there by 12:40,” said Donna through the tinny phone speaker. “There's some errands I wanna run first.”

“It's the middle of the night, what errands!” said Edmund. “Donna, hold—” He switched back to Carl. “Listen, are you sure there aren't any black trash bags?”

“White or green only,” Carl affirmed. “Some of them are scented, do you think that would make a difference?”

“Boss,” said Frank from the other side of the roof, “we lost the chalk?”

“Hold on, Carl,” said Edmund. “What?”

“It was here a second ago!” “Did you secure the chalk against the wind?”

“What?” said Frank.

“The chalk, it's cylindrical!” Edmund managed to shout. “Did you do anything so it wouldn't just roll straight off the roof?”

Somewhere above the din of wind came the sound of a half dozen pieces of sidewalk chalk landing on the street five stories below and shattering.

Edmund buried his (cold) face in his (frozen) hands.

“Uh boss,” said Stephanie. “It's 12:01.”

Edmund sighed. The primordial god K'h'gg'ragel might have allowed for some creative interpretations on Ritual-adjacent matters, but everyone knew K'h'gg'ragel was a stickler for punctuality.

“Alright,” said Edmund, pitching his voice to carry. “Pack it in, we'll try again next full moon.”

“Phew,” said Leroy, who was wearing a thick downy jacket over his robes, and a hat with earflaps, and mittens. “It's cold out.”

“I FOUND A BLUE ONE!” Carl shouted from the speaker. “IS THAT ANY BETTER?”

Edmund turned his phone off.

Lighting and strategically placing one hundred candles had been something of an undertaking. Blowing them all out alone and stuffing them back into a series of duffel bags was somehow worse. Edmund was about half-done when he heard a distinct whirring buzz. He looked up.

It was Dragonfly. Of course it was Dragonfly, heading right for him.

Great. Edmund's first-ever showdown was going to be a one-on-one against a superhero armed with a jetpack, one hell of a punch, and electrified darts. Edmund was going to get flattened, and all before he even got the chance to point out that the darts and for that matter the punching didn't fit with the overall insect theme.

“Hey man,” said Dragonfly, dropping effortlessly down to the roof of the museum. “I saw the lights from the sky, thought I'd investigate.”

They weren't fighting yet. Why weren't they fighting? Edmund's whole body fizzed with adrenaline. Also, cold. Either way, he was shaking a little, and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“And what, strike another heroic blow against the terror that is a bunch of sweater-themed Yankee Candles?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly shrugged. His costume included a bottle-green moto jacket and gloves. It looked warm, in a way that made Edmund feel even colder. “Sweater candles? What, like burning wool?” he said.

Privately, Edmund had wondered about that too. This, he decided obscurely, was another strike against Dragonfly.

“Maybe burning wool smells phenomenal,” said Edmund instead, rocking forward. “There's no way you could possibly know, unless you're here to tell me you've lit a sheep on fire, which seems well outside your whole—” he waved his hands vaguely “—moral compass.”

“Word travels fast,” said Dragonfly gravely. “I am foursquare against sheep-burning. Always have been.”

Edmund squared his shoulders. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

From behind his signature oversized goggles, Dragonfly's brow seemed to furrow slightly. “Doing what?”

“Fighting,” said Edmund. He had to grind his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

“Ah,” said Dragonfly after a pause. “Oh. Um. Okay. Here's the thing?” He steepled his fingers. “You seem unarmed. You're not hurting anyone. You're also not committing any crimes.” Edmund opened his mouth to protest, and Dragonfly continued, “Or, okay, you're trespassing on the museum, I guess, technically, but it's not like you're even trying to sneak into an exhibit without paying.”

“I am here,” said Edmund firmly, “to perform a terrible and arcane Ritual which will summon—”

“Yeah?” said Dragonfly. “Where's your followers? Where's your summoning chalk? It's well past midnight and the only sign of any occult activity I can see is the candles, but for all I know, you were just up here trying to have a little me-time, which, like, on some level I get, you know?”

“So,” said Edmund blankly, “what now?” He had given up on trying to tense his jaw. His upper and lower teeth clacked rhythmically against each other.

“I give you a stern verbal warning about what's probably a minor fire hazard and recommend that you enjoy the museum from the inside, during business hours, with a ticket,” said Dragonfly. “I hear they have a great exhibit on prehistoric mammals. In the meantime, get somewhere warm, okay? Your lips are turning blue.” “Fuck off,” Edmund more or less managed to say through his shivers.

Dragonfly spread his hands, placating. “Fair enough.” He began to walk away. At the edge of the roof, he hesitated. “Uh, do you have a way down?”

“Obviously,” said Edmund.

“Yeah,” said Dragonfly. “Uh, okay.” They regarded each other. “What is it?” said Dragonfly after a few seconds.

Edmund froze. Or well, he was already half-frozen. Edmund stopped moving, was the point.

Apparently interpreting Edmund's silence as helplessness, Dragonfly offered dubiously, “I could carry you down?”

“How,” said Edmund, flat. It was the wrong thing to say, in that it wasn't 'No,' or 'Fuck off' again, something sensible like that, but damn it, he was freezing, and if he gave up the way he'd gotten everyone onto the roof, then this whole fucking evening was going to be a wash. He had tried so hard. It wasn't fair.

Dragonfly took a step closer. “Fireman or bridal?”

Edmund tried and failed to parse this three separate times in his cold-fuzzed brain. “Is that a meme?” he settled on finally.

“Do you,” said Dragonfly, “have a preference on how I carry you.”

“We haven't even established that you're going to,” Edmund said. Clackity clackity clack went his traitorous teeth.

Dragonfly sighed. “I can't leave you up here,” he said. “One, if I let you keep hanging out on the roof of the history museum, then technically I'm kinda aiding and abetting your whole trespassing situation. Two, it is really fucking chilly up here, and if you freeze to death, then that's on me. Which is also not, like, great for my conscience.”

“So I don't have a choice,” Edmund spat.

“You totally have a choice,” said Dragonfly. He tilted his head to the side. “Hell, you could do me a solid and just exit using whatever secret method you entered with, but I have a feeling mum's the word on that particular angle.”

This Dragonfly character was smarter than he looked. Of course, he was a grown man who fought crime dressed as a giant insect. The bar was not particularly high.

“Mum's the word?” Edmund echoed. “What are you, ninety?”

“I'm an old fucking soul, dude,” said Dragonfly. “Point being, you don't trust me not to watch you leave the roof. Which is hurtful, frankly. I'm not sure I trust you not to stay up here out of pure stubbornness. If I give you a quick boost down, then it's problem solved and we can both go about our nights. Crime-fighting for me, and for you hopefully a pile of blankets and whatever warm food rich people eat. Mashed potatoes? With...caviar?”

This clearly did not merit a response. Dragonfly knew who Edmund was, apparently. Most people did.

“What if you drop me?” said Edmund.

Dragonfly laughed. He had a nice laugh. It was yet another point against him, somehow. “Don't you think that might go against my whole—” he gestured with both hands “moral compass?”

Edmund recognized his own words being used against him. On the other hand, the thought of a hot meal and, moreover, central heating beckoned.

“I don't care,” Edmund said at last.

“What?” said Dragonfly.

“Bridal or fireman's carry,” said Edmund. “I don't care.”

Dragonfly nodded sagely. “Let's get this over with, then,” he said. “Hey, d’you want help with your candles?”

Did he? He didn't want to want help with his candles, but that was another question. On the other hand, if Edmund accepted Dragonfly's aid, it would shave off valuable minutes of this excruciating headache. The backs of Edmund's knees were cold. It was absurd.

“Fine,” said Edmund.

“Huh,” said Dragonfly several minutes later. “This one's rain-scented, and this one's Ocean Spray, and yet they smell nothing alike.”

Dragonfly had without fail commented on every single scented candle in the bunch. Edmund looked up from his umpteenth taper candle, momentarily distracted from the knifelike chill.

“Rain and ocean are two completely different things,” said Edmund. “The surrounding environment, the vibe, the salt content.”

“The vibe, I grant you,” said Dragonfly. “But salt, really? Have you ever smelled salt before?”

“The ocean has a smell,” Edmund insisted. His family had summered on the coast every year before—well. Before last year. He mostly remembered the sea as having a whiff of fish about it, which didn't sound promising for a candle, but it was the principle of the thing.

Dragonfly shrugged. “You've got me there,” he said. “Never been.” Cityton was only about an hour's drive from the beach. Edmund wasn't sure he knew anyone who had never visited at least once, for a long weekend at least. Of course, it wasn't like Edmund knew Dragonfly. He didn't even know what Dragonfly's eyes looked like.

Edmund blew out another few tapers.

“This one's just called Singing Carols,” Dragonfly announced. “Guess what it smells like, I dare you.”

And so on.

In the end, Dragonfly carried Edmund off the roof of the Natural History Museum scooped under the armpits, the way you might hold a cat if you were engaging in some light cat-related horseplay. The mechanical dragonfly wings were well-made, Edmund could admit that much; Dragonfly didn't seem to have any issue bearing Edmund's weight or the combined weight of the candles, and their feet gently touched the ground after only a few seconds. It was already slightly warmer—or at least slightly less freezing—on street-level.

Dragonfly let go and stepped back immediately. This close, Edmund could see that his lips were pretty badly chapped. It made sense that someone who donated all their time to—again—flitting around town trying to right every minuscule so-called wrong while dressed like a bug wouldn't be experienced enough with self-care to be acquainted with a good lip balm, but the thought made Edmund weirdly a little sad.

His sense of deeply ingrained politeness warred against the equally powerful urge to be a real bastard about the whole thing. In the end, politeness won out, by the very skin of its mannerly little teeth.

“Thank you for not dropping me to my almost certain death,” Edmund gritted out with extreme reluctance. He stared over Dragonfly's shoulder as he said it.

Nevertheless, for some awful reason, for just that moment, it felt a little like the end of a date.

“Right,” said Dragonfly. “Right. Well then. Happy trails.” He seemed to consider this. “Or you know, if doing crimes is what makes you happy, then for the sake of Cityton, let's say, mediocre trails. Do you wanna borrow my gloves?”

“Why,” said Edmund flatly.

Even though the goggles completely obscured much of the upper half of Dragonfly's face, Edmund had the distinct sense that a disbelieving stare was being leveled at him.

“For your hands? You know, the traditional office of gloves?”

As the scion of Malarkey Industries, Edmund was long accustomed to being hated for who he was. Hated, feared, not-too-secretly envied. And lately: mocked, dismissed, his family name transmuted into a juicy, low-hanging punchline for lazy late night writers.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been pitied before. It did not sit well.

“I'll warm my hands on the fires of hell while I plot your demise, you miserable fool,” growled Edmund.

“Yikes,” said Dragonfly easily. “Well, I'm off.” And with that, he took to the sky.

Edmund curled his fingers into the sleeves of his stupid, summer-weight summoner's robes and started back towards what remained of his home.

#original fiction #cityton chronicles #I'm sure that in some obscure way the fact that I'm thinking about this now is due to mainlining The Untamed #but this is definitely. not that.#warning for an extremely brief mention of transphobia that the main character condemns #also apparently there is a dragonfly-themed superhero in a 2008 superhero spoof movie?#let's say that movie exists in this world too and Dragonfly has taken a lot of shit for it #that sounds about right

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silenteyes · 3 years

Text

30 Days of Luke Oneshots based off songs in his playlist I made

If you want day 1, here it is. And this is the link to the playlist

Day 2: Come Little Children

This is very much inspired by this oneshot by @asmo-ds , please do read it! Also heads up, I have no memory or clue what Barbatos calls Lucifer so I’m just gonna let Barbs call him by his name

Warnings: Angst (There is comfort though! I just couldn’t follow Hocus Pocus’ interpretation of the song)

---

Simeon’s cries felt distant as he fell from the realm he once called ‘home’. Why? Why did it have to turn out this way? What did he do wrong? Was he that... useless? Even Michael couldn’t believe his ears when he heard that Luke was going to be banished. He had done nothing, and could even rival what angels higher in the hierarchy are capable of. Useless was anything but what Luke is.

He was told by Simeon to go straight to the brothers, or at least Diavolo and Barbatos. Oh gosh, Simeon’s face... Luke had never seen it before. It was so void of the happiness he was used to seeing. Right then, it was so full of grief and despair, and Luke felt so sorry that he was the cause of it. The face that once gave Luke hope was now shattered, and the only thing he could hold onto was the comfort Simeon’s eyes revealed - telling him that everything was going to be alright. Luke disliked the demons, but even he had to admit he could tolerate them and in this situation, it would be best to trust them.

He was expecting to hit the ground when he was caught by arms that felt so strong and warm.

“Luke, what are you doing here? Why did you fall fro-” Lucifer asked the younger before cutting himself off, his realization hitting him. Luke’s wails gave away that he was in deep agony and although Lucifer didn’t really like him that much, those wails felt like stabs, so wrong coming from this child who used to be so pure.

Luke held onto Lucifer as if his life depended on him, which it probably did considering that if Lucifer wasn’t there he might’ve already been gone. Lucifer adjusted Luke’s position into a more comfortable one, comforting him the way he used to comfort his brothers when they fell from the Celestial Realm. He tucked Luke’s head into the crook of his neck and rushed to the Demon Lord’s castle.

He woke up with a cry as pain shot up his back and he was hurriedly laid back down by a pair of arms. He opened his eyes slightly to see the person before he let out another sob.

“Lu...ci..fer?” he croaked out.

“Yes, it’s me, Luke,” Lucifer sighed out in relief. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d been worried sick Luke might not wake up. “You’re in one of the bedrooms in Lord Diavolo’s castle right now. Barbatos will be coming in soon to check in on you.”

Luke let out a strangled noise as he tried to nod. Lucifer shushed him and checked over Luke once more and his breath caught in his throat. Where his back was once bare now grew tattered and dark feathers, indicating that his wings were going to grow sooner or later. His horns might grow then as well.

As he was looking over Luke, Barbatos came in as if he was in a rush, and it seems as if he was.

“Oh, Luke,” Barbatos whispered is horror. The butler had taken a liking to Luke, and when the exchange program ended, the younger didn’t hold back any tears as he hung onto Barbatos.

The butler then brought in his signature cake and Luke lightened up a bit, which made both the older demons smile sadly. Barbatos gave Luke a slice of the cake and offered one to Lucifer as well, which he accepted when he glanced at Luke.

“Ugh, I missed your cake, Barbatos! I kept trying to make it but it wouldn’t taste the same!” Luke groaned and made Barbatos chuckle slightly. He and Lucifer then exchanged eye contact.

“Lord Diavolo suggests that Luke stays at the House of Lamentation, if you don’t mind,” Barbatos told Lucifer to which he sighed in response.

“I’ve thought so, my brothers are already making a room ready for you,” he said as he looked at Luke and he widened his eyes.

“If it’s fine. I really don’t want to burden any of you! I’m already doing so by-”

“Luke, they’ve already made a room for you. You won’t be burdening us,” chastised Lucifer.

Luke stared at Lucifer before giggling softly. “I now see why MC used to call you an over-bearing mother.”

Lucifer pulled a face at the thought of that as he sighed in exasperation.

“Lucifer, can you give me and Luke some time alone, please?’

Lucifer looked between the two and nodded as he sat up and left. He could guess that Luke still wasn’t alright, and he wouldn’t be the best at that. Besides, Luke and Barbatos had a bond much stronger.

As Lucifer left, the tears he had been holding in started falling from his eyes. Barbatos then slowly took the plate of cake and placed it on the table and sat down on the bed, and ever so gently he lead the boy forward until Luke was pressed up against his side and wrapped up in his arms. The sobs Luke let out were heart-breaking and his small chest was heaving heavily, struggling to breathe. Barbatos then suddenly had an idea, and he the placed Luke’s head on his chest.

“ Come Little Children,

I'll take thee away,

Into a land of enchantment.”

The butler’s calm and low voice quieted Luke, but he was still hiccuping and tears were still running down his face. “Come Little Children,

Times come to play,

Here in my garden of shadows.” Barbatos has never despised the angels more than this moment (except maybe Simeon). Rest assured, this “garden of shadow” would be the safest place Luke can live without being banished just because some angel thought he was weak and useless. “Follow sweet children,

I'll show thee the way,

Through all the pain and the sorrows.” The butler is sure that in time, the brothers and the young Lord will be able to help Luke through all this. He’s too young after all, and this will impact him forever. “Weep not poor children,

For life is this way,

Murdering Beauty and Passions.” Alas, out of all the realities he’s seen this one may have been the most unpredictable of all. But - he guesses, life isn’t always about beauty and happiness. “Hush now my children,

It must be this way,

Too wary of life and deception.” Luke was never really deceived in a way so cruel, so harsh for beings who live in the Celestial Realm. So maybe it was because of that even though he distrusts easily, he places his confidence and kindness in many people, the young Lord can confirm that. “Rest now my children,

For soon we'll away,

Into the calm and the quiet.” Barbatos finally felt Luke slump against him and he brushed his lips against the younger one’s hair.

“Do not worry, Simeon. We will take care of Luke and one day you two will be reunited again. This is a reality I am going to make happen.”

The End

---

Oh my heavens the way it took me 3-4 fucking hours to make this MY BRAIN LITERALLY WENT BLANK AFTER THE FIRST FIVE PARAGRAPHS. Anyways hope you enjoyed this! Thank you, lads, for reading this!

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youngster-monster · 3 years

Text

fools rush in

Quel’thalas may sit on the coast of Lordaeron, but it has never been a naval nation. Kael’thas has never been quite so acutely aware of his people’s lack of seafaring abilities as he is now, bent over the side of a ship and fighting a losing battle against seasickness.

“Hold on. We’re nearly there.”

He sends a venomous glare Rommath’s way. His friend seems perfectly at ease on deck, only moving to shift his weight so he doesn’t stumble with the sway of the ship. Looking at him, Kael’thas could almost believe his motion sickness is a personal weakness rather than a quel’dorei trait.

Fortunately he’s seen Lor’themar looking a little green for the whole journey. Rommath is the real outlier here. Probably out of spite. He wouldn’t be caught dead displaying any kind of vulnerability, let alone something as small as seasickness.

“You’ve been saying that for hours,” he grits out in response.

Rommath shrugs, unconcerned by Kael’thas’ plight. “Nearly is an imprecise unit of measurement, I’ll admit it.”

“Although this time he’s right,” another voice intervenes. “We will be in view of Theramore’s harbor in under two hours.”

Kael’thas blissfully closes his eyes as Jaina lays a hand between his shoulder blades. Her magic sinks under his skin and the chill of it soothes his nausea to a point he no longer feels like he might throw up at any moment.

“Remind me why I’m subjecting myself to this again?”

Jaina chuckles warmly. “Because you are my dear friend and you wish to support me during an important change in my life?”

“I should have taken a portal with my father…”

“And miss watching me dissolve into a ball of nerves in the next few days?”

It’s true that the diplomatic delegation from Quel’thalas wouldn’t be privy to Jaina’s slow descent into panic during the preparations for her coronation. That’s a privilege reserved for Kael’thas only — and the two friends he was made to bring along as bodyguards, technically.

Of the world leaders who are coming to witness the event, few will be lucky enough to enjoy Theramore outside of official functions. Kael’thas is willing to suffer countless journeys by sea for the joy of watching Jaina get drunk in a sailor’s pub for the last time before she has to act like a proper monarch.

Affecting a greater misery than what he already feels, he says, “Still. For all that trouble, I better be here for your dress fitting.”

Jaina shudders at the thought. She may be a princess, but she clearly hasn’t gotten used to all the annoying little details of royalty. Or she forgot after too many years in Dalaran. Kael’thas grins. It’ll be years, if not decades, before he has to be in her place. He intends to enjoy the spectacle while he can.

Schooling his features into something more serious, he turns gingerly to face her. The deck rolls beneath his feet and he has to hold on to the banister or fall flat on his face.

“How are you holding up?”

She quirks up a small smile that struggles to reach her eyes. “I’m alright. A little scared, but…”

It stands to reason she would be, even though this coronation has been in preparation for years. She’s been spending more and more time away from her magical studies, learning how to rule a country, ever since she turned twenty-three. Still one can never be entirely ready to lead.

The fact that the date had to be moved forward because of an attempt on her father’s life must not be helping her anxiety any.

“Have you received news from your father?” He asks, knowing the subject a little easier to deal with. Daelin Proudmoore has recovered quickly from the botched assassination, and has been more preoccupied with rooting out the conspirators than with healing from his wounds.

She nods, gazing at the horizon. Kael’thas can just start to make out Theramore from the grey sky, though it’s more creative interpretation of a vaguely rocky shape in the distance; to her, it must look like home. “Yes. He’s fine. Healing nicely, for all that he refuses to rest. But they still haven’t found his attacker. He’s afraid they’ll go for me, too.”

Kael’thas waves that concern aside. “Of course they will; the day of the coronation is the perfect occasion to get rid of both you and your father, if that’s what they seek.” He winks at her, smiling slightly at her dismay. “That’s what you have me for. Oh, and that great hunk of a fiancé you have as well, I suppose. We’ll keep you safe.”

His exaggerated scorn when he mentions Arthas gets a giggle out of her. He doesn’t despise the man like he used to, back when Kael’thas was infatuated with Jaina and saw him as a threat. But that doesn’t mean he has to like him. Rival or not, he’s still an annoying, bruttish paladin, although he looks exceedingly pretty doing it.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Rommath sighs from the side. He sounds like he has little hope about the matter. He’s used to Kael’thas and Jaina’s antics: if there’s trouble to be found, they’ll find it alright. “Go get your bags, Kael.”

“Why? We’ve hardly arrived yet.”

“By the time you stumble your way below deck and up again, we’ll be there.”

Kael’thas flips him off. But he does go get his bags; not that Rommath has a point, he just likes to take his time. And if he holds onto the railing the whole way down, well. That’s between him and the ship.

It wasn't an empty threat, when Kael’thas mentioned that any assassin would probably turn up during the coronation. Every major political player of Azeroth came to pay respect to the new Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras. If someone wanted to commit some kind of political murder, now would be the time.

It also leaves the cathedral the coronation takes place in a somewhat crowded place.

Kael’thas shifts on the uncomfortable pew while the priest drones on and twists around to look at the back of the room. He may have joked about it back on the ship with Jaina, but after three days shadowing her everywhere the reality of assassins has become much more worrying. His friend is about to leave herself open to all kinds of attacks while an old man shoves some metal on her head; it leaves a little on edge.

A cursory glance reveals no shady character hiding in the wings. If someone intends to hurt Jaina, they’re doing a decent job at hiding it.

“Stop fidgeting,” his father hisses.

Kael’thas rolls his eyes but lets himself be prodded into sitting straight again. He spares a brief glance for Arthas. The Lordaeronian king is entirely ignoring the people trying to engage him in conversation, and watches over the room like a hound during a thunderstorm, jumping at every odd sound.

It helps settle Kael’thas’ nerves somewhat that Lordaeron’s most sword-happy paladin is on the look-out. He won’t let anything happen to Jaina, Kael’thas reasons, even if he must burn the cathedral down to keep her safe. Though it hopes he’ll let them get out first.

Fingers ghost over the back of his hand and he all but jumps out of his skin before it registers that it is only his father trying to capture his attention.

“Be at ease,” Anasterian whispers, a touch of humor softening his sern voice. “You’ll do lady Proudmoore no favor by feeding into her anxiety.”

Smoothing the nascent scowl off his face, Kael’thas calls on the years of teaching in the art of decorum to affect an air of nonchalance. He can’t quite help the stubborn frown born from his worry though. “She has reasons a-plenty to be stressed: someone wants her dead.”

“This event is as safe as it can be. There is little more you can do but pretend everything will be fine, for her sake.”

Kael’thas adjusts the folds of his dress robes in his lap and says nothing. It’s easy for his father to say: it’s not his friend who’s out there risking her life.

Human lives are so fragile. Of course he worries. And what good are the guards, if Daelin was hurt on their watch?

He only lasts about five minutes before risking a glance behind again. Nothing has changed; but he feels a prickle over the back of his neck, as if he’s being watched, and it compulses him to look.

“Kael’thas,” his father sighs.

Kael’thas cuts him off before he can work himself into a proper lecture. “Are those the kaldorei delegates?”

Anasterian pokes him mercifully in the ribs until he sits properly, and only then does he offer a response.

“Yes. With the efforts made by the kaldorei to open to other kingdoms, Lord Proudmoore thought it polite to invite them. Something you’d know if you had bothered to pay attention while I talked about this event,” his father adds, long-suffering.

“I do listen,” Kael’thas says absently. He wants to get a proper look at the elusive night elves, but he thinks his father might actually hold his head in place if he tries it. Their whole whispered conversation is already stretching the bounds of propriety and trying Anasterian’s patience enough as it is.

“Do pay attention, Kael. The priest is nearly done; Jaina will be here soon.”

A coronation is a tremendously boring affair, Kael’thas finds, even once Jaina has stepped up to the altar. The priest drones on and on about her duties as Lord Admiral, the honor, the weight of name and duty, blah blah blah—

Boring. At this point even an attempt on her life would be a welcome distraction.

Jaina kneels and her father stands before her, taking the crown off his head and holding it high above hers. He looks good, Kael’thas notes, for a man who so nearly died mere weeks before.

“Do you swear to live by your people, for your people, and to serve and protect them as your duty demands?” He intones.

“Yes, I do.”

The oath goes on for some time. Jaina answers each demand with unflinching certitude. Looking at her, one might never guess her nerves.

But just as Daelin lowers the circlet, abou to set it on her head, Kael’thas feels a prickle of unease not unlike what he felt earlier. He turns on his seat, heedless of his father’s disapproving hiss. There, in the shadows of the cathedral’s upper level; a flash of—

Spellwork.

The warning gets stuck in his throat, a half-choked yell swallowed by the roar of a ray of fire shooting across the nave. He reaches out without a thought, draws up a barrier that manages to catch the spell at the last possible moment before impact. It shatters across the translucent surface of his shield and scatters in a burst of embers and arcane. The guests underneath cry out as sparks rain down on them.

What his spell doesn’t stop is the crossbow bolt that flies in the wake of the spell. It misses Jaina’s by a hair’s breadth and ricochets off the tiled floor before embing itself in the wooden altar. If she had not moved at the sound of the spell being deflected, it would have gotten her in the throat.

The room explodes in motions as guests and their guards scramble out of the pews. Kael’thas is already on his feet. He catches a glimpse of Arthas’ fair head in the commotion as the paladin ushers Jaina and her father away from the scene. He backs out of the room with his sword raised high, eyes wild as he looks around. Satisfied that his friend is safe, Kael’thas turns on his heels and run for the doors.

Rommath, who watched the ceremony from the back, calls his name as they nearly run into each other on the way out. Kael’thas stops with a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Get my father to safety!”

“Where are you going?” Rommath yells above the din, but Kael’thas is already running again.

“After them!”

Rommath’s answering invective is lost in the noise. His hand grabs Kael’thas’ robes to try and pull him back; Kael’thas unclasps them from his shoulders and leaves the heavy fabric in Rommath’s grasp as he books it.

Bursting through the doors, Kael’thas draws a gulp of fresh air before he sees, out of the corner of his eye, two figures scaling down the cathedral’s wall. He takes off after them without a second thought.

Without his cumbersome robes weighing him down he manages to keep up with the fleeing attackers — but only just. His feet pounding the pavement, he nonetheless fails to gain on the faster runners. They make a sharp turn left; by the time he reaches the corner they’re nowhere to be found.

Snapping a hand forward, Kael’thas gathers magic in his palm. This isn’t a spell he’s casting, though; it’s a summon.

And, bursting forth in a shower of fire and ashes, Al’ar answers.

He’s already climbing up his beloved familiar’s back before the phoenix has fully materialized into this plane. Kael’thas smoothes a hand over the soft feathers of his neck, smiling slightly at the pleased sound Al’ar makes, before he urges the phoenix into flight again.

They need no words to communicate. It’s for the best, as Kael’thas doesn’t think he could muster speech with his heart beating wildly in his throat. He’s not much of a runner and there was no course at the Kirin Tor for chasing after assassins. This is all very new to him; the excitement has him nearly shaking.

It’s easier to follow the assassins from the sky — and to gain on them as well.

Al’ar dives as soon as he is above them. Kael’thas holds on to a handful of feathers as the wind howls past his ears, confident that al’ar won’t let him come to any harm. The fugitives aren’t that lucky. Al’ar’s piercing cry is the only warning they get before he swoops down on them. His wings unfold to catch his fall with a sound like a forest fire; his talons glint in the light of his own burning as he extends them towards his unfortunate preys.

One is quick enough to dodge his grasp. The other gets bowled over by the force of the blow, and can only weakly struggle as Al’ar lifts them off the ground. Kael’thas jumps off the phoenix’s back before he can gain altitude again, stumbling slightly on the landing.

He’s unarmed, but mages need no weapons beside their magic, though he’s decent with a sword. He can deal with one measly little assassin without a blade.

At a glance, the assassin seems to be a human woman; and from the arcane energy crackling in her palm, the mage of the two as well. Kael’thas grins. He’s one of the best duelists of the Kirin Tor. This will be a walk in the park.

The mage casts a blue-tinted spell, too quick for him to tell what it does. He catches it in front of his face, turns, throws it back, and she has to jump aside to avoid it. Good. His smile grows, all bared teeth, as his own magic bubbles up to the surface. A tongue of fire whips towards her and hits her in the chest, sending her flying back into a wall.

Dazed and more than a little singed, she cannot get up quickly enough to block his next attack, and the concussive blast knocks her out. She slides down the wall and falls to the ground, unconscious. Shame they must be interrogated still. He’d gladly have burned her to a crisp.

But at least that’s one good thing down. He tilts his head up, trying to catch sight of Al’ar. He can feel their bond stretching as the phoenix flies away — he must be bringing the other assassin back to the cathedral, to be dealt with. Good.

Behind him, he hears hurried footsteps, and a voice shouting,

“Watch out!”

Kael’thas turns just in time to see the mage he thought he had downed take a knife out of her sleeve and throw it with unexpected accuracy. It whistles past him, close enough to leave a line of fire along the side of his neck. Kael’thas snaps his hand out and flames roar around his opponent before she can try another attack. They burn brighter and hotter than any natural fire, and her cry is cut short as she collapses into a pile of ashes and charred bones.

Here’s hoping the one Al’ar carried away survived the initial mauling.

“Are you alright?”

Turning to the new voice, Kael’thas blinks owlishly at the chest that greets him before it occurs to him to lift his eyes. It’s a kaldorei, he notes somewhat distantly; his thoughts feel sluggish all of a sudden. He’ll readily blame it on the fact that this is one of the most attractive men he’s ever seen — and he’s seen his fair share of beautiful men. His

He shakes himself, blinking some more to clear the haze that has settled over him. “I— yes, I am fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Kael’thas lifts a hand to his neck, still pulsing with painful heat, and his fingers come away slick with blood. “Oh. So I am.” The blood has an oily sheen to it, and it takes a moment of rubbing it between his fingers to realize it might actually be some kind of poison, unless his blood has all of a sudden gained some mysterious new material property.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The kaldorei asks again, bemused. “You seem... shaken.”

Waving his hand impatiently, Kael’thas steps away from the man. “A bit of poison, nothing more.” The ground sways under his feet nearly as much as the ship he took to Theramore; it takes all of his concentration to keep himself upright.

Real alarm crosses the kaldorei’s face. “I’m going to get a healer.”

“Ah, no need. My magic will burn it away before it can deal any real damage.” He breathes in and out slowly, trying to manage the nausea. “I just have to… wait it out.”

The kaldorei seems unconvinced, though something about Kael’thas assurance must be enough to convince him to settle back for now.

He leans against the nearest wall. It still bears a black, slightly-greasy mark where the other mage once stood before he took care of her. His head spins, and black spots have started to appear in his field of view. It’s a good thing he’s been poisoned before, else he might not know this particular quirk of his biology and panic a lot more about the situation. As it is he’s quite used to the feverish feeling of his inner fire flaring to fight off the infection — it’s why he’s so rarely sick, as well.

The kaldorei looks at him and then, lower, at the remains of what once was an assassin. His mouth twists in a sardonic smile.

“I followed expecting a fight,” he says with a kind of rueful disappointment, “But it seems there’s little for me to do here.”

Closing his eyes, Kael’thas exhales softly. It’s a shame he always meets attractive people when he himself is at his worst possible state. The first time he saw Jaina, he was going on three days without sleep, and looked more undead than like a dashing elven prince. “Do not worry. I might pass out yet, which would leave you free to heroically carry me back to my father.”

He means it as a joke but in truth, he’s not sure he’ll manage to get back otherwise. Even if the dash after the assassins hadn’t exhausted him, the poison is quickly sapping his strength.

Tugging on his connection with Al’ar in the hope that his familiar will simply fly him home, he scowls when his summoning meets unexpected resistance. The phoenix must still be in this plane, then. Perhaps he found trouble with the other assassin. Wouldn’t be the first time they struggle to pry a prey out of his talons. This bird has a grip like a bear trap.

He can already feel himself sliding down the brick wall as his legs slowly but inexorably bow under his own weight. He’s ready to cut his losses and sit down in the pile of ashes when they suddenly give out from under him for good. Thankfully, before his ego and backside can be anymore bruised by the fall, strong arms catch him around the middle and heave him back to his feet.

“You weren’t joking about passing out,” the kaldorei chuckles.

Dazed, Kael’thas tries to look up at him to decipher if he’s being laughed at, but all he manages is to weakly tilt back his head until it hits the man’s chest. “Fighting off poison is no joking matter,” he tries to say, but his lips don’t quite manage the movement required for proper pronunciation, he thinks.

The chest he’s pressed against vibrates slightly as the man hums low in his throat. After some kind of deliberation Kael’thas is not privy to, the kaldorei ducks down and, passing an arm under Kael’thas’ knees, scoop him up as if he weighs nothing.

“Wha—”

“I’ll take you on that offer of a heroic entrance,” he says lightly. He shifts so that Kael’thas’ head rests against his shoulder and, with no effort apparent, starts walking in the direction of the cathedral.

“That was a joke,” he protests weakly.

“Didn’t you say poison is no joking matter? Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”

“That’s very pretty of you,” he mumbles. It doesn’t sound quite right, and he frowns in confusion before making another attempt. His thoughts are starting to feel more jumbled as his magic responds to the poison with a purifying fever. “That’s…nicely pretty of you.”

There. Perfect.

The last conscious thought that crosses his mind before darkness swallows him is that the kaldorei has a very nice laugh, and then that Rommath is going to have a stroke, if he sees Kael’thas in this state; but he is too comfortable to care about that now.

Rommath is indeed apoplectic at seeing his friend and crown prince brought back unconscious and bleeding. Kael’thas, of course, only hears of it second-hand. By the time he comes to, he’s lying on a fainting couch in the wing of Theramore’s castle offered to house the sin’dorei delegation, and Rommath has calmed down somewhat.

Still, when he notices his charge has come awake, he doesn’t wait a second before railing on him.

“You’re an idiot.”

Still dazed and developing a headache suspiciously reminiscent of a hangover, Kael’thas squints up at his best friend. “I’m a genius,” he says for the sake of argument, though as brilliant as he is it is hardly applicable now. It’s a known fact that between the two of them Rommath is the one in charge of being street smart.

“Running on foot after two assassins, and not even dispatching them correctly — that’s what you call genius?” Rommath shakes his head and his shoulders drop slightly as he heaves a sigh. “What little of the city hasn’t seen your idiocy first-hand will know of it by tomorrow morning. That’ll do wonders to your reputation.”

Kael’thas pushes himself to a sitting position and rubs his head with a scowl. “I’m sure the attempt of the new queen’s life will be more interesting news than my dashing attempt at revenge.”

“Perhaps. But the nine foot tall moon guard carrying your bloody body through the streets is certainly an image that’ll stick.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic,” he says, though it might very well have been, for all that he remembers of the trip back.

“They’ll make it that dramatic. Also, you bled a lot, for such a small wound. You’ll have to properly thank the high priestess, by the way: I’m told it’s a great honor to be healed by the envoy of Elune herself.”

Rommath’s dry tone nearly distracts Kael’thas from his actual words, and it takes a second for his mind to connect the dots.

“Tyrande Whisperwind healed me?” He asks, taken aback.

“Well, her brother-in-laws did ask her directly, yes.”

“Her brother-in-law—” Like lightning, he realizes: few kaldorei leave their land, despite the latest efforts of the leading triumvirate to open to other kingdoms. Only the most powerful would have come all the way to Jaina’s coronation. Most likely the triumvirate in person. One of which healed him, at the demand of the other one, who must be the one who carried him after he passed out from a flesh wound. He hides his face in his hands and lets out a sound halfway between a sob and a scream. “I can’t believe I fainted on Illidan Stormrage.”

“You made an impression, apparently,” Rommath notes wryly. “He told your father your aid was invaluable in apprehending the assassin. Singular. I could have sworn there were two,” he adds airily.

“I set the other one on fire,” Kael’thas mumbles in his hands.

“Yes, I expected that much.”

Kael’thas rubs his face with a low groan and drops back on the fainting couch. Maybe he could just… fall unconscious again. Stay that way until they’re back in Silvermoon. He’s sure he could put himself into a magical coma, if it came down to it.

“I met Illidan Stormrage.”

“Yes.”

“The most brilliant sorcerer of his time. And ours, probably.”

“Huh-huh.”

“And I passed out on him. Did I drool? Light, tell me I didn’t drool.”

“You did,” Rommath says, merciless.

“I told him he was pretty.” With feelings, mostly of mortification, he adds, “I want to die.”

“You had your chance already. Now you’ll have to learn to flirt through the awkwardness like the rest of us mortals.”

Kael’thas is always flirting through the awkwardness. He’s never flirted in a way that’s not awkward. Doesn’t matter how attractive and smart Illidan is; he’ll never be able to look the man in the eyes again. His beautiful, golden eyes. Who saw Kael’thas drool probably all over his fancy moon guard armor.

A magical coma sounds more appealing by the minute.

#writing #world of warcraft #kael'thas sunstrider #illidan stormrage #grand magister rommath #jaina proudmoore #long post #this is a little silly but i just Had A Thought okay #anyway this takes place in a world with No Legion™#yes the sundering and chism of elves still happened. why? who knows #civil war probably

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poetic-emptiness-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Something There

The name of this fic is from a song Something There from Beauty and the Beast.

Characters: Hande Kuura, Reidunn & Lydik - Reidunn and Lydik belong to @vikinglumberjack

The first meeting of Hande and Lydik!

No content warnings.

Words: ~4 000

Hande enjoys spring: it's that time of year when nature comes back to life after months of slumber. A smile creeps across her face while she's walking towards the marketplace, not only because of the warmth or budding flowers and leaves, but because today she will meet her best friend after a long time. Reidunn has returned from her months-long journey to Longyearbyen, so of course they had to arrange a meeting.

It doesn't take long for Hande to spot the redhead from the crowd. She starts to wave at her friend whose face turns to meet Hande's eyes. They both smile to each other and Hande takes the huldra into a warm hug.

”Dunna, welcome back! I've missed you! How was your journey? Any news from your family?”

”Takkâ, Hande! I've missed you, too! It was fine, sometimes the weather was a little stormy on my way back home, but I was happy to see my family again. They're all fine, thank you for asking! They sent their love to you – they had hoped you would come with me again.”

”I'm glad you didn't experience anything too harsh on your way home! I would've loved to come with you, but you know how it is: Nadia needs me with this mental health clinic project,” Hande chuckles before she continues, ”That's what you get when you say an idea out loud and the Countess actually ends up liking it.”

Reidunn pats her friend on the shoulder, reassuring Hande it was great, that Vesuvia is going to have an important institution thanks to her. The magician quickly brushes it off, changing the subject to Longyearbyen. The huldra decides to indulge Hande this time, and tells about all the things she's done during her stay at her childhood home. They keep sauntering the marketplace until they stop at Selasi's bakery to grab some pumpkin bread. They're sitting on a table, enjoying the warm weather and each other's company.

”So, Dunna, it seems that you haven't just come back to Vesuvia. What have you been up to, or have you just rested after the journey?”

”I've tried to rest, yes, but I also had to make some arrangements. I need to make some space to my new roommate.”

”Oh, you have a roommate now? That's so nice! How did you end up with this situation?”

”He's a friend of mine. I haven't seen him a while, but when I was at Longyearbyen, he approached me and asked if he could come with me to Vesuvia.”

”How neat! What's his name? Is he a Fosna?”

”His name is Lydik. No, he is not a Fosna. He's a fae – a Nøkken, actually.”

Hande's eyes widen and her posture becomes stiff. Reidunn has a Nøkken as a friend? One of those scary, human-eating water creatures? For all of her life, Hande has been warned about them, how they lure their victims to the water to drown them. She also knows some people in Hjalle who have lost their loved one to a Nøkken. And now there's one living in Vesuvia...

Lost in her thoughts, Hande whispers, ”Näkki maalle, minä veteen...¹”

”What is it, Hande?”

Hande turns her gaze to Reidunn, still a little absentminded, ”Oh, it's a Forestian spell, to banish a Nøkken from water if you're going to swim.You need to throw a stone into the water while saying those words and then a creature needs to go to the shore and can't go back unless you let it return with another spell. I... Why do you have a Nøkken as a friend? They're monsters, they've only caused harm in Hjalle – I've heard too many stories of disappeared people whose steps lead to water and not back. People didn't even find their bodies to bury...”

”Oh, I'm so sorry to startle you, Hande! I forgot how that could be upsetting for you. But it isn't what you think, Lydik isn't like that! Actually, he saved my, Guivi's and Bilzi's lives when we got lost as children.”

”Oh?” Hande looks surprised, but also intrigued, ”I didn't know that could be possible. How did it happen, may I ask?”

Reidunn starts to tell about her adventure with her siblings and how Lydik had taken them under his wing. How he had showed kindness to the children by entertaining and protecting them during the night. The huldra can see her friend relaxing a little, although the magician still looks astonished.

”Wow, that really is something else,” she says, ”I've never heard of a Nøkken who has saved human lives instead of taking them. Sorry, Dunna, it seems like I judged too harshly.”

Reidunn reaches for Hande's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, ”It's okay, Hande. I should have warned you first.” The huldra seems to think for a moment and then smiles to her friend, ”If you want, we can go to my place. Lydik's there so... I've told him about you and I think it would be nice for you to meet.”

”You have?” Hande sounds surprised. She gives a little smirk for Reidunn and adds, ”I hope you've told only good things, and haven't frightened him by telling that I'm a Nøkken discriminator.”

The huldra bursts into laughter at Hande's latest remark. Reidunn is also relieved – she doesn't want to upset Hande, and it could be troublesome for Lydik if her best friend would decide to dislike Lydik without actually getting to know him. The duo raise from their seats and head to Reidunn's home.

***

Reidunn lets Hande enter first to her herbalist shop-apartment. The magician is greeted by music – fiddle music, to be exact. Hande stops in her tracks, starting to listen the sound that comes from upstairs. A melody is swaying and gentle, and has lots of short glissandos in it. The magician can hear a tuning of an instrument differs from her own violin: it sounds warmer, raspier and more ”homemade”. A shy smile rises on her face and she closes her eyes, taking in the whole experience.

Hande's friend can hear the music, too, which fills her mind with worry. Oh no, it's Thursday! Reidunn approaches the magician quickly, fearing she'll be traumatised after this incident. Before she's reached Hande she becomes a little baffled: Hande isn't walking towards upstairs. The huldra slows down and circles to meet the face of her friend. The magician's eyes are still closed, taking in the pleasant melody. Reidunn can see how Hande picks out the tune with her fingers against her thumb, like it's the fingerboard of her violin. Reidunn relaxes immediately. Phew, Hande isn't in trance. The huldra decides to wait for the song to end before she'll speak, for she doesn't want to startle her friend.

When the song ends, Hande opens her eyes and smiles at Reidunn, ”That was beautiful. How did you do it?”

Reidunn thinks for a moment before she opens her mouth, ”It was... Hande, don't freak out, but it was Lydik.”

Realization hits Hande and she feels dumbfounded. It the Nøkken is playing the fiddle, then why...

”Why am I not in trance?” Hande places her hand on her forehead, as if to feel if she has fever. The magician had no idea about this ability of hers. Reidunn seems as much surprised as her but then answers, ”I am not sure what may be the reason of this, but it seems like you're immune to Nøkkens' music.”

The magician, still a little confused, ponders out loud, ”I guess quite a few can do that – maybe it's related to families that have had magicians in their bloodline? There's nothing special about me in addition to that...”

Reidunn looks at her friend, giving her a wistful smile, ”That is a rare ability, I've never heard of anyone who is able to resist Nøkkens' playing. Not any human, at least.”

Hande isn't sure what to say – this ability of hers has taken her completely off-guard. The magician decides she doesn't have the time to muse about it too much – she will have time to think about it and ask from her family later. Now she can see the humorous side of this incident and chuckles to Reidunn, ”That kind of hospitality, eh? Trying to trick unsuspecting guests with his beautiful playing! How rude.”

The huldra looks a little confused, not sure whether her friend is joking or not. Her tail swishes nervously before she answers, ”No, Hande, it isn't a trick. I just brought a friend home. I'm sorry, it's Thursday and for some reason Lydik plays instinctively on Thursdays, and I didn't realise to warn you.”

Hande approaches her friend, hugging her lightly, ”It's okay, Dunna. I was only joking. How could you know he's playing right now? Besides, this was spontaneous visit, so Lydik doesn't know I'm here, either.”

Reidunn relaxes, her tail calming down as well. The huldra can't help but admire Hande's abilty to see humorous side of situations even soon after she has been nervous or baffled because of them. ”Would you like to meet him?” Reidunn asks with a warm smile on her face.

Hande answers her friend's smile with a smirk, ”Weeell, maybe this once. And if something goes wrong, I can always incant him inside of a water orb!”

Reidunn lets out a giggle and leads Hande to upstairs. Lydik is still playing his fiddle, apparently unaware of the company he's going to get. Hande is still a little nervous, but her curiosity is taking over – it's not every day you get an opportunity to meet a fae, after all. She waits behind Reidunn when the huldra knocks on a door that apparently leads to Lydik's room. The fiddle playing ceases and Hande hears a low grunt behind the door. Reidunn turns to Hande, ”For your information: Lydik can't speak, but I can interpret his communication to you. He understands what we are saying.” Hande nods after which Reidunn opens the door.

Lydik has put his fiddle away and turned to see the comers. Whatever Hande has expected to see, it wasn't this: a thin creature almost twice of her height with green skin, only loose pants covering his body. The Nøkken has yellow-green, wavy hair with twigs poking out of it, straight nose, elf-like ears and green, glowing eyes that reminds Hande of alligators.

A yelp, ”Ei perkele, hän on pitkä!²” escapes from the magician's mouth while she instinctively takes a step back towards the door. Her back hits the door and her brain catches up with her reactions. Don't be stupid, startling because of his height! There's nothing he could drown me with, and besides, why would he try to kill me, Reidunn's friend.

Hande's body is filled with embarrassment. ”I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I... I just got a little startled of how tall you are. I don't know why, but I get this stupid inferiority complex every time I am near someone who's much taller than me...” she stutters, trying to meet the Nøkken's eyes despite of their huge height difference.

Reidunn observes the situation a little worried: she can notice how Lydik has tensed a little, probably willing to hide, and now also Hande is nervous and starting a tangent in order to hide it.

”It's not because of you, it's completely on me... I've never met a Nøkken before and half of my family has always warned me about your kind... Reidunn told me how you helped her when she was a child, I really don't have anything against you, I'm so, so sorry...” Hande continues her rambling, unable to stop the flood of words. Her mind races, like she's on the back of a kelpie, unable to get off while the creature gallops towards the water. Great, now I'm thinking of horses...The last thing I need to do now... The magician starts to wringle her hands and she wants to do is to flee the scene, but she feels like her feet are glued on the floor.

Lydik is watching this new acquaintance in confusion. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do. He can sense the woman is nervous, even a little scared, but isn't sure if it's because of him, or like she claims, because of her. He glances at Reidunn pleadingly and the huldra goes to comfort the woman, who still hasn't stopped her nervous talking.

”Hande, it's okay. Just breathe,” Reidunn says calmly while rubbing her friend's back. Her best friend's voice helps Hande calm down – she feels safe, accepted. Reidunn has always had this skill of making Hande feel comfortable, since the beginning of their friendship. She is Hande's pillar of strength, always there for her, like Hande is for Reidunn. Little by little tha magician's breathing stabilizes and she's able to collect her thoughts. It doesn't make her feel any better about her messing up, but at least she's stopped rambling.

”Well, that was awkard... I'm so sorry, I don't know why I get this nervous in new situations... It seems like I'm socially rustier than I used to be,” Hande raises her gaze to meet Lydik's eyes once again, ”Please, let me try again: My name is Hande Kuura and I'm delighted to meet you.” Hande places her right hand above her heart and bows at the Nøkken in order to greet him.

Lydik is still a little confused, but his body relaxes. He glances at Reidunn who is still by Hande's side. The huldra gives him a nod – it's okay now, even Lydik himself can sense the woman next to Reidunn has calmed down. He cocks his head, but then he gives Hande a small smile while mimicking the magician's gesture. After his greeting he pews at Hande.

The magician looks questioningly at Reidunn, not sure what that sound means. ”I think Lydik is trying to say he's also delighted to meet you. Pew is a friendly sound,” Reidunn interprets.

Hande answers to Lydik's smile. ”I heard you playing, it was beautiful,” Hande says sincerely after a moment of silence. The Nøkken's smile turns into a friendly grin, revealing his sharp teeth. The magician doesn't get startled by that, ironically enough.

”You look different than I imagined,” Hande states looking pensive.

Lydik cocks his head again. This time Hande realises he's asking a question. She thinks for a moment, but then decides she can say her thought out loud, ”Well, to be honest, I expected to meet a huge pile of alga with scary eyes,” she gestures to his direction with her hand, giving the Nøkken a bashful grin, ”This... It is a positive surprise. My expectation would have been way too creepy for me to handle.”

Lydik looks at Hande for a moment, but then he starts to chuff. This yellow-haired woman is funny indeed. His chuffing increases which creates a confused look on Hande's face. The Nøkken notices that and approaches a shelf nearby. He starts to tap some kind of rhythm onto it with his finger. Reidunn follows him carefully while Hande's confusion seems to increase.

When Lydik stops, Reidunn nods and turns to face her friend, ”Lydik used Morse code. He said that he would've thought that sharp teeth would be more creepy than some algae with eyes. He found your remark funny, by the way: that chuffing noise means he's laughing.”

Hande chuckles, surprised by the fact Lydik is laughing at her sayings. ”Morse code, you say?” the magician asks creefully, ”I need to learn that, so I can understand what you're saying.”

A realisation hits Lydik who starts to look confused once more. Still by the shelf, he starts tapping, looking at Reidunn questioningly.

”Oh yes,” Reidunn exclaims, ”Lydik asked how you're fine although he played, Hande,” the huldra turns towards Lydik before she continues, ”Well, it seems like that Hande is immune to Nøkken music. It didn't affect her at all, and Hande didn't even realise at first it was you who was playing.”

Hande nods in affirmative, ”I don't know how, but it seems like Reidunn is right about my immunity”. Lydiks turns to meet Hande's eyes. He looks like he's impressed. Once again the Nøkken taps and Reidunn interprets, ”He says: Woah, I've never met someone who could do that.”

Hande lowers her gaze to the ground, feeling embarrassed for the attention she's getting. In the hopes that Reidunn will indulge her, she tries to slightly change the direction of the discussion. ”Well, your playing did affect me, though. Like I mentioned before, it was very beautiful. I just wanted to stay and listen for a while. I play a violin myself, so it's nice to meet someone who can also do that,” she says wholeheartedly with a friendly smile on her face.

Lydik's impression brightens and he gives Hande a wide smile with some cheerful pews. He places his hands in front of him and then he draws his hands to the opposite directions in the air: his left hand upwards and right hand downwards. The Nøkken's fiddle and bow appear in his hands from thin air.

Hande smiles at Lydik looking impressed, ”That's a neat trick! I have to settle for a case and then glare at anyone who almost kicks it.”

Lydik chuffs and then gestures to his instrument, asking if Hande wants him to play again. The magician's smile softens when she replies, ”Please.”

Lydik lifts his fiddle onto his shoulder. He doesn't need to think for long what he wants to play. The song is faster than the previous one, something one would dance to. Most of the time Lydik concentrates on playing, but from time to time he glances towards the women in his room. Reidunn is swaying with the music and Hande taps the rhythm with her foot. The Nøkken notices Hande's face is lit up with a pure delight, not an empty smile what those people in trance would have. He finds it fascinating, intriguing even, and he wants to play even better because of that. Lydik really likes seeing that look on Hande's face.

After the song ends Hande starts applauding, Reidunn following suit. Lydik is confused, because he isn't sure why the women are clapping, but judging by the smiles on their faces, it is something positive. He smiles a little sheepishly and makes his instrument disappear once again.

Hande notices Lydik's confused expression and hurries to explain, ”Oh sorry, I'm so used to doing this I didn't realise it might be new to you. People start to applaud to a person if they've enjoyed their performance, usually something related to music, but it can be dancing, a speech or something like that. You really are playing well, thank you for this performance.”

Pleased with himself, Lydik grins widely to Hande. A chuckle escapes Hande's mouth, but it's a kindhearted one, so neither Lydik or Reidunn thinks anything of it. The magician seems to think for a moment, before she opens her mouth again, ”Lydik, have you made your fiddle yourself?”

The Nøkken nods in affirmative and Hande's face lits up again, ”That's wonderful! Unfortunately I can't make violins, but my uncle Paavo – he's the brother of my mother – has made mine. From what wood are your fiddle made of?”

The room is filled with Hande's questions, Lydik's tapping and Reidunn's interpreting. The atmosphere is completely relaxed which fills Reidunn with relief – she has been a little nervous when she noticed that her friends were uncomfortable, but now that they have warmed to each other, both of them are able to show their best sides which the huldra enjoys to watch. Lydik's expression grows brighter and brighter, now that he's able to talk about one of his passions with someone who actually understands the details.

After Hande has learned that Lydik has used Nøkken magic to make his fiddle waterproof she starts to wonder about differences between Nøkken and humans in general. The magician keeps eyeing Lydik curiously, trying to determine what kind of skin does the Nøkken have. Only if she could touch it... No, it's not appropriate to touch others! But what if I ask permission first? No! Hande tries her best to listen Reidunn, but she's buzzing with curiosity and it gets harder and harder to contain herself. She must know.

Before Hande can decide whether to open her mouth or keep silent, Lydik's eyes lock on hers. Ugh, he must've sensed I was ogling... She gives him a bashful smile which the Nøkken answers. Feeling a little more courageous, the magician blurts, ”Can I touch you?”

Reidunn turns to watch Hande, looking extremely surprised. Lydik's smile turns into an expression of confusion once more which causes Hande to wince. ”Ugh, sorry... That came out wrong... I meant to ask, if I can touch your skin, to try how it feels like? It seems like the texture of your skin is different from human skin... Of course you don't need to let me if you don't want to, my curiosity just took the best of me...”

Before Hande can start another ramble, Lydik holds out his arm to her, smiling encouragingly to her. Hande holds her tongue and glances at his arm, a little hesitant. ”Are you sure?” the magician asks to which Lydik only nods. Slowly Hande reaches out her right hand towards Lydik's arm. She lightly strokes his hardel with her forefinger a few times. ”I didn't expect it to be this soft,” she states absentmindedly, ”It feels like a skin of a lizard... Interesting...”

Sensing Lydik's pretty intense gaze on her, Hande becomes extremely self-conscious and lets go of Lydik's arm. The magician clears her throat and thanks Lydik for letting her inspect his skin. Then she looks like she just rememberd something and exclaims, ”How rude of me! I kept touching you like a test subject, but didn't offer the same for you. If you want, you can touch my arm.” While saying the last sentence, Hande holds her arm to Lydik in turn.

Lydik isn't quite sure what Hande meant with ”test subject”, but he touches Hande's arm, mimicking her previous movements. The magician's skin feels smooth under his fingers and only soft arm hair offers some texture to it. Lydik notices how the hair on Hande's arm rises up and her muscles tense up a little, so he stops stroking, cocking his head once again.

”Oh, it's okay. I just am not used to new acquaintances touching me,” Hande says bashfully, ”To be honest, usually I don't like being touched at all, if the person is not a close friend of mine or a family member. I was ready to make an exception because of my intrusiveness.”

Lydik is still watching Hande, feeling a little puzzled about how to response to her latest remark. He didn't feel the woman had been intrusive, she has asked permission. This has been the first time someone has asked permission to touch him before doing that, except for Reidunn. Hande has been nervous, yes, but she's also been kind and friendly to him, even though she has learned to fear his kind, if rightfully so.

Lydiks smiles at Hande and gives a clumsy pat on her shoulder with some pews. Reidunn swallows up a giggle and states, ”I think Lydik tries to say he likes you, Hande.”

Hande answers Lydik's smile. ”Thank you, Lydik,” she says sincerely, but after that her smile turns into a mischievious grin, ”I think you're okay... for a Nøkken.”

Everyone stays silent for a moment, but then Lydik starts chuffing which causes Reidunn and Hande to burst into laughter, as well. The atmosphere is full of warmth, and it looks like a magician and a Nøkken have found a friend from each other.

TRANSLATIONS:

¹ ”A Nøkken onto the ground, I into the water...”

² ”Holy shit, he's tall!”

#The Arcana #Arcana oc #Lydik #fan apprentice #Reidunn the Apprentice #Hande the Apprentice #fanfic #my writing #my work

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

Resol’nare - Part Five

A/N: Oh look I’m a day late. Apologies, I made some changes to the overall outline of this story, so I had to make a few tweaks to this chapter before I could share it to make sure that things stay consistent. ;)

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: The Mandalorian has some questions for the thief he apprehended on Nevarro. But when extenuating circumstances force them to work together, he starts to see that there might be more to her than the common criminal that he first thought.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: violence, talk of death

The Promise

Night fell quickly on Nevarro, the planet plunging into darkness as soon as the sun began to sink beneath the horizon. With no moon the only celestial light came from the stars, but the amount of ash in the atmosphere made it difficult for the silver pinpricks to penetrate to the ground level. By the time the Mandalorian and his captive reached the Promise, the only natural light was coming from the orange glow of the lava rivers in the distance, snaking through the crusty, black volcanic surface. Along the bank of the nearest molten stream, a reptavian’s wings spread wide as it rose from a craggy cluster of porous rock. If there’s one there are more. He knew from experience that the beasts hunted in flocks. Its screech ripped across the empty landscape, and before he could count to three the call was answered by two more shrieks. We need to get inside.

“Osi'kyr!” The woman behind him hissed under her breath as she stumbled over her feet at the sound of the reptavians. “What the kriff was that?!”

The Mandalorian stopped walking as she spoke, turning his head so that his chin was in line with his right shoulder. She just... That was- Though he was still learning the language himself, he recognized the Mando’a word immediately. Her pronunciation was clear and correct, the tricky syllables rolling off her tongue with the comfort and confidence of a fluent speaker. He had never heard the language used outside of the covert though, and certainly not by an individual who had not sworn the Creed. She said she wasn’t given the chance to. Each new thing he learned about her only brought up more questions.

The woman stepped next to him before he could swivel his head back around and he was met with her sharp gray eyes, visible through the smashed visor of her helmet. After meeting Bo-Katan and the Nite Owls he had stopped trying to understand the way that other Mandalorians interpreted The Way. He knew that not all of his people adhered to the more rigid beliefs and traditions that he did, and that most were far more free when it came to removing their helmets and showing their faces. But this is… different. He narrowed his own hidden eyes, focusing on the way that the shattered remains of her visor hung like stalactites across her field of vision. That was done deliberately… but why?

Beyond the language and the armor, there was also the Mythosaur pendant and the short dagger she had shown him. The pendant itself wasn’t unusual. He had seen plenty of them in his lifetime and had owned one once. Although he no longer wore it, the Mandalorian would always remember how heavy the thing felt the first time it was draped around his neck, how determined he was to carry the weight even as a small child. Each time he held it in his palm or felt it pressed to his skin beneath his armor he was reminded of the words that the man who had given it to him had sworn. To protect him and raise him as a warrior, as his own.

He hadn’t sworn any vows on the day he’d thrust the necklace into Cara’s hand with the instructions to deliver Grogu to the covert. He didn’t have the time or the strength. Convinced that he wouldn’t make it out of the fray alive, he only wanted the child to be taken care of. And to have my name. To know that I wanted him to be safe. He wondered if Grogu felt the pendant’s weight around his tiny shoulders and understood what it meant. I’ll always be there for you, kid. I promise.

But no matter what the kid thought when he clutched the pendant in his small hands, the fact remained that it looked like every other one he’d seen before. The sleek silver beskar was sculpted into the skull and tusks of the fabled creature, and there were no added embellishments or adornments. It wasn’t jewelry, it was heritage, and that is what set the one this woman wore apart. At the heart of hers was a bright purple stone visible through the carved eyes that seemed to emit light. Or was it energy? Something about the stone and the way it glowed reminded him of the weapons he’d seen Ashoka use, or the blade wielded by the Jedi that came to retrieve Grogu from the Mandalorian’s care on Gideon’s light cruiser. It reminded him of the Darksaber in the way that it seemed to crackle with power. So why is it in her necklace?

The kal, too, had been unique. Like the beskad the Armorer had given him, it was an ancient weapon, one not typically carried by modern Mandalorians in favor of more advanced blades, blasters and rifles. Though it was short the blade was lethal, designed to move swiftly through the air and slice accurately into its target. Historically, the kal and beskad were meant to be used together in two-handed combat, and up until extremely recently he had never seen either. What are the odds of-

The reptavian shrieked again, this time the sound coming from much closer. “Hey,” the woman brought her bound hands up to place them on his arm, the contact jarring him from his thoughts even more than the carnivorous creature’s hunting cries. “Whatever that thing is, it’s-”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the whooshing sound of enormous leathery wings flapping just a few paces behind her as one of the beasts swooped low, claws extended and jaw open wide. “Get down!” He saw her eyes widen through the jagged maw of the crack in her visor as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ground, falling on top of her to shield her with his body. Razor sharp talons scraped at his shoulder pauldrons as he dove, the beskar doing its job despite the gnashing sounds and the slight pressure he felt as the creature tried to snatch him as its prey.

Grunting, he rolled off of the woman and onto his back once he was sure that the reptavian had soared up into the air again. Lower the ramp. Get inside. Flipping open the panel on his wrist, the Mandalorian pushed a series of buttons to unlock the Promise’s pressurized cargo door, the release of air behind him letting him know that it was dropping open. Good. He swiveled his head down to the woman as he slammed the panel on his vambrace shut again. “Get in the ship, n-”

A second winged assailant came screeching in from his left to cut him off, jaws closing around the wrist he had just been operating the locks with and pulling another grunt from him as it tried to thrash him free of his metal casing. He was vaguely aware of his captive scrambling to her feet in his peripheral vision, and once he saw that she was clear he engaged the flamethrower on his opposite wrist, attempting to scorch the creature that was dragging him to his knees. The reptavian wasn’t deterred though, responding by twisting its jaw to damage the vambrace, extinguishing the flames and decommissioning the device. Swearing under his breath, he hurriedly tried to use another weapon, flicking his other wrist down to charge the payload of whistling birds. They hummed as energy coursed through the launcher, but another powerful rush of wind hit him as the first beast turned to swoop back down, and he realized he wouldn’t have time to release the missiles before the creature descended.

“Don’t move!” The woman’s voice was loud and clear as she called out from somewhere behind him. He froze just as two blaster shots zipped through the air on either side of his helmet, hitting one of the creatures squarely in its broad chest and the other in the soft tissue where the wing joint connected to its body. The first one dropped heavily on the crusty ground, wings curling around its dead carcass as the second gave a piercing painful squeal, spinning in the air before fleeing into the darkness, leaving the Mandalorian panting in a heap.

He stood, brushing himself off as he turned to face her. Hands still bound, she clutched the blaster that she had holstered to her thigh, the barrel still smoking. Impressed with the accuracy she was able to achieve while restrained, he blinked as she lowered her weapon and stowed it back on her leg. “Nice shooting.”

She scoffed. “Would have been quicker but I’m a little tied up at the moment.” Sighing, she shifted her weight as he checked to ensure that the reptavian’s bite didn’t penetrate his armor. “Are you...did it get you?”

Circling his hands around each wrist in turn, he took a few beats to catch his breath and looked up to answer her. “No, the armor held up.” Looking down at the dispatched creature, he recalled the last time that he had an encounter with the venomous predators and how quickly their poison could spread once they sunk their teeth into flesh; how quickly they both could have been killed. “Thank you.”

The woman shrugged. “Well, you saved me first. So I guess we’re even.” He nodded. “Are you going to tell me what that thing was?”

“Reptavian,” he answered. “And they’re poisonous, so-”

Her eyes widened. “So what are we still doing out here? There are more of them out there.” As though on command, several high pitched screeches sounded in the distance.

“Yes,” he agreed, stepping up onto the ramp and walking ahead of her. “There are.” Once they were both inside, he pressed a large white button near the door and the ramp lifted. “We’re safe in here. The Promise is reinforced with-”

“Hey,” she lifted her hands as she cut him off. “That’s great and all, I’m glad that those things can’t attack us in here, but, if you could maybe tell me why I’m handcuffed or why you dragged me all the way out here instead of turning me over to the Marshal? That would be swell.”

Her voice sounded different as it bounced off the metal floors and walls of the hold, lighter, more vibrant, and before he could answer her it dawned on him that she was the first passenger to board the Promise who wasn’t sealed inside a frozen slab of carbonite. He’d owned the ship for nearly six months, and not even Cara Dune or Boba had set foot inside of it. Before Grogu had come into his life, he had gone years without a second person seated in the cockpit or sleeping in the crew bunks, but once the child came along he’d traveled with plenty of beings. Without him the Mandalorian had been alone again, until this moment, until this woman and all the questions that surrounded her. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he flipped a switch to turn lights on inside the dark hull, answering her over his shoulder. “You wanted to be turned over to the Marshal.” It wasn’t a question, it was an observation. As a man who had spent his life tracking and hunting down criminals, he had developed the observation skills necessary to know when his quarries were setting traps of their own. “If I turned you over to her I would have been playing into your hand.”

She huffed as she dropped her hands in front of her, leaning back into the cool steel wall as he turned to face her again. “So, what? Am I your prisoner now?” Her shoulders tensed then. “Did you run my chain code?” No, but I wonder what I would find.

“I’m not here on Guild business,” he answered, the woman visibly relaxing. She must have a record.

“Well if this is about borrowing that Imperial ship then-”

“It’s not.” I don’t care about that. In truth, the fact that the New Republic had left the abandoned base still sitting there stocked with weapons and vehicles just waiting for some Imperial remnant to come back to reclaim them had made him uneasy. That a common smuggler had made off with a ship and some speeders didn’t bother him. Better in the hands of a thief than the Empire.

“Then why d-”

“Why were you trying to get yourself captured?” Crossing his arms over his chest, the Mandalorian mirrored her stance and leaned back against the ladder to the cockpit.

He heard her take a deep breath in through her nose, letting it back out slowly as she narrowed her eyes, and he could tell that she was trying to decide how much to say. “I needed some information,” she said finally. “And I heard that the Marshal might have it.”

Information. That makes two of us. “And what kind of information were you looking for?”

There was another pause followed by a second huff of air before she spoke again. “Look, we can talk but can I-” she brought her hands up to the bottom edge of her helmet. “I need to take this thing off, it’s...I don’t usually…”

He swallowed and tightened his jaw, giving her a nod. “Sure.”

“Great.” Her fingers curled around the beskar, but she paused before lifting it up. “And don’t think you can take it just because I’m in these kriffing binders. You saw me shoot those flyers, I won’t hesitate to-”

“I’m not in the business of stealing other people’s family heirlooms.” Though he had agreed with Cara and Karga that this woman was likely an imposter wearing Mandalorian armor, she had since changed his mind. What had started as a beskar reclamation had evolved into something else entirely. I just want to talk, see what she knows. If he was to be the one to unite the Mandalorians under one banner, he needed to understand all of the branches of The Way, all of the paths that the clans of Madalore could walk.

She seemed to accept his spoken agreement that her helmet was safe, finally lifting it up and over her head with very little difficulty. It dawned on him that she was likely proficient at a great number of tasks and skills while in binders, that this was far from her first time being detained in this manner. A professional. Bending down, she set the helmet on the floor with a dull thunk, then stood, letting out a breath. “There, that’s...more my speed.”

She tossed her head sending a long, complicated black braid struck through bright blue strands over her shoulder where the pauldron he’d sliced still hung limply by one strap. Her eyes, no longer shaded by the helmet, were far lighter than he had originally thought, more silver than gray, sharp but not hard. She appeared to be the same age as himself, faint creases around her mouth indicative of thirty some years of smirking the way that she was now. The moment that he took her in completely, he was struck with a sensation that was completely unfamiliar to him.

Trust her.

He bristled at his own suggestion, straightening his spine. Why would I? His first instinct had never been to trust, even with Kuiil. Not that he hadn’t learned to, but it was never something that he gave so freely upon first meeting someone. Especially someone who he knew was a liar and a crook. But the thought proved difficult to root out, twisting deeper into his mind until it found the word connected to the feeling.

Ruusaanyc. Trust her.

He wasn’t sure why the word came to him in Mando’a or why it made him more inclined to give in, but as soon as it cropped up he felt himself relaxing. That’s… He flinched, glad that his expression was still concealed. I don’t… The comfort made him uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Clearing his throat he pushed the trust aside. “What information were you looking for?”

Her smirk twitched to one side and she let out a small laugh that he wouldn’t have heard had she still been wearing the helmet. “Well, how about those manners, huh?” She laughed again and gestured to herself with her joined hands, a teasing tone to her voice as she continued. “I’m Navina, nice to meet you. Who, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of being detained by this evening?” Her casual nature made his nostrils flare. No, she’s not getting my name. “I guess I’ll just keep calling you Mando, then?” She sighed as he remained silent. “Well I was hoping for something a little more personal after saving your skin from those things out there even though all you’ve done is destroy my armor and take me prisoner.”

He took a step closer to her, reaching for her hands and grabbing the center of the mechanism that held them together, roughly tugging on it to pull her forward. “You’re not my prisoner.” He unlocked the binders, swinging them around his gloved finger before tucking them back in place in one of the pouches along his belt. “I told you I just want information.”

He hadn’t stepped back and neither had she, clearly not intimidated by him anymore if she ever was in the first place. That’s… new. Just as he wasn’t used to giving his trust freely, others regarding him as they would any other passerby simply never happened. Jutting out her chin as though to prove his point, she challenged his claim. “So if I decided that I didn’t want to give you that information afterall, you’d just...what? Let me go?”

The Mandalorian shrugged. “Sure. But I doubt the reptavians will cut you the same deal.”

Navina hummed a laugh. “No, probably not.” Releasing a breath slowly through her nose, she squinted her eyes and widened her smirk. “Alright then, Mando. I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Realizing that it was better to keep things on civil terms, he agreed. “Fine.” His eyes shifted over to the weapons locker, directly next to where Navina had previously been leaning, and decided that despite what his intuition was trying to tell him, he didn’t trust her enough to be near it, even with it sealed and locked. She’s still a thief, remember? “We’ll talk in the cockpit.” He cocked his head at the ladder beside him. “After you.”

“See? I knew there were manners in there somewhere.” With that she winked at him and started climbing.

Shaking his head, the Mandalorian followed her up the ladder. He stepped ahead of her to open the sliding door that led to the ship’s controls, entering the cockpit and turning his seat before sinking into it. When she made to sit in the seat directly behind and to the right, he stuck his hand out abruptly. “No.” That’s the kid’s seat. Even though it wasn’t. Swallowing the thick lump clogging his throat, he pointed to the passenger seat on the other side. “You can sit there.”

Ignoring his abrupt aversion to her seating choice, Navina did as he asked and spun the other chair around, sinking into it. She let out a whistle as she looked around, taking in the ship’s multitude of monitors and instruments. “This is nice. Auzituck?” She ran her hand over the switchboard, nodding at her own question. “Yeah, the Wookies know what they’re doing, that’s for sure.” He watched her as she slowly turned back towards him, the light from an overhead screen finding the blue strands of her hair and causing them to shine. “So.” Taking her hands off the panel she’d been inspecting, she dropped them heavily into her lap. “You want to know why I came to Nevarro.”

“Yes.” He let his shoulders drop and rested one elbow on the armrest of his chair, waiting for her response.

Navina tapped her left knee three times with her pointer finger before taking a breath. “I heard a rumor in the Core Worlds that I wanted to follow up on.”

“What kind of rumor?”

She shook her head from side to side. “Uh uh. I answer one, you answer one.” Raising one eyebrow in an arch, she waited for him to comply with a nod. “What is a Mandalorian doing working with a Marshal?”

“I don’t.” When it was clear that she wanted more than a two word answer, he sighed. “Marshal Dune is a... friend. She got in touch with me as a courtesy because she saw your armor and figured that you had stolen it.” Navina weighed his answer, tilting her head as though agreeing with Cara’s initial assessment of her. “What kind of rumor?” He asked again.

“I heard…” She wet her lips and sucked in a breath, letting it out as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I heard that there used to be a pretty sizable Mandalorian covert here on Nevarro and I,” she released her lip, her brow furrowing. “I’m looking for someone. Someone that might have been there.”

What? Who? That nagging feeling was back, telling him to relax, not to assume the worst of her. “There-” he sighed. “There was.”

She winced at the way he said the last word, and he internally recoiled at the idea that she was able to hear the emotion in his tone even with the modulator in his helmet. “What...what happened?”

He closed his eyes as the image of helmets piled too high flashed in his memory. “The Empire happened.” It wasn’t a lie, it was just the simplest truth. Without giving her time to ask for more on that, he took his turn at interrogating. “Who are you looking for?”

“My f-” She paused, and for the first time since he’d pointed his beskad in her face he saw a flash of something other than defiance in her silver eyes. What was that? “My family.”

Her family? But she said that… She had told him that the helmet and kal she owned had belonged to her parents, and he had assumed that meant that they were no longer alive. Too much time passed in silence, but he wasn’t sure what to say next. It wasn’t the answer that he had been expecting.

Navina broke the quiet first, her voice slightly smaller than it had been previously, the sound of it pulling his features into a frown. “With my mother I-“

She paused and something in the silence between her words and the breath she took made him turn toward her. Her right hand was wrapped tightly around the pendant she had shown him, her chin tilted down and away.

“I know what happened to my mother, I know she’s…”

She let go of the necklace then, letting it fall against her chest as her shoulders dropped, and he didn’t need her to finish her sentence. She’s gone. He knew what it was to lose a parent. He had lost three. Navina flattened her palm over the Mythosaur hanging from her neck, pressing it against her chest, and he stared down at the blue triangles on his handplates.

“But my father and the f-“

He picked his head back up as she cut herself short, her eyes waiting for him to look her way. Not for the first time he got the feeling that she could see through the visor, even though he knew it was impossible. Was she going to say…

“My family was caring for a foundling.” She shook her head, one cheek lifting into her eye in a half-hearted smile. “We were split up and I...don’t know what happened to them.” She shrugged and sniffed, blinking her long lashes rapidly to clear away any tears before they could form. “So when I heard that there was a covert here I…” Another shrug. “Wanted to come and...see.”

Grogu. Kid. Foundling. Family. Clan. Aliit.

Each pound of his heart brought a new word to mind. She’s...alone. He knew what that was like, to confront loss or uncertainty. But at least he had the rest of the covert. He had Cara and Karga and Fennec and Boba Fett. He had the Armorer and the survivors of the covert here on Nevarro, Paz and the foundlings that he’d rescued. “I’m...sorry.” They seemed insufficient but they were the only words he could conjure.

She gave him a smirk, or tried to, and shook her head. His eyes were drawn again to the blue strands of her hair as she moved under the lights. “I’ll find them.” I hope you do. “Is it my turn?” He nodded. “Okay. Well, since you took those broken vambraces and you wanted my helmet, too, I assume that you know an Armorer?”

“I do. There’s…” He thought about how best to answer, wanting to tell her the truth, wanting to tell her that there was a thriving Mandalorian population on Tattooine, hoping to tell her that perhaps she’d find her family there. But she hasn’t sworn the creed.

She watched him, for what, he wasn’t sure, but she seemed to find it, her tongue flicking out to lick at her lips again. “But they won’t craft armor for me because I’m dar’manda, right?” The word made him flinch. Like the Mythosaur pendant, he could feel the weight it carried, too.

“I… could ask, but-”

Navina shook her head. “No, it’s alright, Mando.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s just a bantha brained idea I had.” It’s not...I understand, it’s just… “Can I… if I tell you my family name, would you…tell me if you know anything? Or-”

“Sure.” He didn’t know many of the names of the Mandalorians that had joined the new covert, but he couldn’t see how it could hurt to make this offer.

“Harsa,” she replied. “My father’s name is Gavil Harsa.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “When I regroup with my covert I’ll put the word out that his daughter is looking for him.”

“Thank you, Mando.” She sighed, a look of genuine gratitude and relief coming over her face.

Before she could say anything else though, a crackling sound came from a pocket in her flak vest as a comm link sparked to life. “Nav? Nav! Can you hear me? Come in, Harsa.”

Her eyes grew wide and she gritted her teeth, sucking air through them and reaching under her armor for the device that she must have hidden at the onset of her mission at the base. “Oh. Yeah. That’s…”

“Your friend?” He crossed his arms as she nodded sheepishly. “You better answer him, then.”

Her thumb hovered over the button to respond, but she stopped. “If I tell him where I am and he comes to pick me up, are you going to let us go without any trouble? He’s…” She inched towards the front of her seat. “I don’t want him in any trouble.”

“I told you before, you aren’t my prisoner.” He understood though, that she was trying to protect her friend. She may not have sworn the Creed herself, but he couldn’t help but recall what the Armorer had told him just a few days ago. She spoke the language, upheld the duty to family and, though unconventionally, wore the armor. She is Mandalorian in everything but oath. “But you should tell him to wait until morning, when our flying friends are asleep. They’ll attack small ships as they take off.”

“That’s… yes. I will tell him that.” Her thumb pressed down over the button and she spoke into the receiver. “I’m here, Firo, I read you.”

Instantly the other man’s voice rang throughout the cockpit. “NAV. Dank Farrik, I was worried.” Nav? The Mandalorian looked at the woman across from him. It was short for her name, obviously, but it didn’t seem to fit her. Why do I care about that? He blinked. I don’t.

Rolling her eyes again, Navina smiled. “I’m okay, Firo. Gonna have to sit tight where I am tonight, but,” she glanced up at the Mandalorian. “But I’m safe. I’ll send you coordinates in the morning, alright?”

Safe. Trust. Ruusaanyc.

It was easier to give into that word after speaking with her, even just for a short time, but it still made him wonder. Why?

There were more things that he wanted to know, more questions that he wanted to ask. But just as she ended the communication with her associate, his own communication device began to beep from the third pocket on his belt and he sighed, knowing who it was before he even answered.

Bo-Katan had arrived to meet with him on Tattooine. And she wouldn’t be happy to find him missing.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @alraedesigns @pheedraws @valkblue @malionnes @gollyderek

#resol'nare #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fic #sw fic #star wars fic #din djarin #mando #din djarin x oc #mando x oc #oc: navina harsa #grogu #the child #din x navina #mando x navina #pedro pascal characters

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nukyster-blog · 4 years

Text

Changing Course chapter 21) Forty minus one

Ivar awoke by the first sunlight of dawn. The white rays were watery and cold, like the temperature in the dungeon. Frost had slowly allowed itself to enter the castle’s walls and inched inside, ridding Ivar’s prison cell of the last bits of warmth.

Ivar did not recall if he slept or lost consciousness due to the cold. He guessed the latter, as the bitter cold had chilled his fingers into useless numbness and crept further down into his body. It spread painfully from his toes into his feet robbing his skin of all color.

“Maybe”, he thought, “this is not the worst day to die”; he honestly didn’t believe he’d survive the winter.

The cold of night had robbed him of strength, but not of spirit. He would not fight his death but he’d do everything in his power to keep his jaws locked and mouth shut. He’d undergo whatever punishment those Christians thought proper for his crime and die with dignity.

A gust of frigid wind wrapped around him like a shawl woven by ice itself. His teeth chattered as he tried to warm his body by rocking back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He began to lose his sense of time. Back and forth, back and forth. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth.

The dead rat slowly but steadily became a reasonable meal. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ivar?”

Ivar glanced up to the barred window. It was Piglet; in order for her to peek into Ivar’s prison cell she had to lay her head on the ground.

“Piglet?” Ivar crawled underneath the window and stared up, squinting his eyes. The young woman above reached back for a moment and managed to shove her arm through the bars.

A polished, red apple dropped into Ivar’s lap.

“Ivar…” her voice was brittle and soft; she reached further down into the cell as a desperate attempt for a last connection.

It was impossible. Even if Ivar had been able to stand, the walls were too high.

“I guess this is it then Piglet, we had a good run,” Ivar spoke toneless, watching her hand reach and wave, “we were a proper match you and I. It’s a shame you believe in a false God…” and that was where he stopped himself from becoming sentimental. Because both of them were aware they would never see each other again, there was no reason to voice the truth.

“A shame,” he ended and shut out all of her weeping. For a while, her arm remained reaching and waving, but as Ivar remained silent, Piglet eventually gave up and left.

He’d never know if she’d spoken any last words of goodbye for him, because he blocked everything out, all while eating her apple. Even the core, because he did not want her to get in trouble and he could use all the strength given.

.-.-.

Overnight the lessers of the castle had placed a beech wooden pole in the centre near the well. It wouldn't be the only silent witness of Ivar’s punishment. The rest of the bystanders were already buzzing and whispering about what was to come.

The Giant hadn’t been pleased with Ivar’s forehead statement and had wiped off the Runen R with spit and his sleeve.

The cobblestones bruised his knees as Ivar was shoved, poked, and kicked in order to get into the centre.

The three rulers and the fair maiden had taken place nearest the pole, seated on wooden chairs. Their place had the best view for the spectacle, although Lambertus and his wife, Haedwien, did not look pleased with being present. The fair maiden had her hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks pale and on the verge of getting sick.

And Ludolf, sat sunken on his seat, bored and maybe even a bit embarrassed. For it was due to his “wound” that the slave had to suffer and be an example for the rest. The bystanders were on foot, nudging and pulling to get to the front row.

For some reason Ivar was pleased to see the Christians fight for the best spot, at least those soulless bastards had some sense of bloodlust. Maybe they were more Viking then they’d like to admit.

Ivar was forced on his knees, facing the pole. His arms were stretched far above his head and tied to the beech wood. A knife was dragged jaggedly through his humble tunic, tearing the fabric open, baring his back, shoulders and neck completely.

“Will they Bloodeagle me?” Ivar wondered stunned, as he pressed his cheek against the wood in an attempt to pick up everything that was happening behind him. But his arms were tied too high, leaving his face and most of his upper body pressed against the pole, minimizing his mobility.

The Giant spoke some biblical nonsense; Ivar concluded from the Giant’s tone. Ivar’s assumption was completely confirmed when he heard the book slam shut.

The first lash came completely unexpected and Ivar broke his solemn rule—to keep his mouth shut. A pain plagued hiss managed to escape through his teeth. The second lash managed to hit the exact same position as the first and cut through Ivar’s skin. A tortuously slow pattern emerged, one of two lashes and then a moment of ease. Ivar later learned that moment of pause wasn’t for him, no, it was for the Giant, so his arm would not tire.

The lashes seemed to rip Ivar open to the marrow, like rigged daggers the leather dug deeper and deeper into his skin. Time did not matter anymore; all that remained was the rhythm of the lashes.

A scream from deep within forced its way from Ivar’s mouth, it was not one of fright, but one formed entirely of anger that unleashed itself like a demon. It took two more lashes to silence him, fists clenching and teeth locking up all of his remaining sound. Now that his anger escaped him, there was only despair.

Ivar lost count after fifteen, his ears were ringing and he could no longer see clearly. His mind seemed afloat; his body a vacant, aching shell. There was a low indistinct sound, almost animalistic. It took him a moment to realize those where his own hoarse moans.

The cobblestones wore more and more spatters of Ivar’s blood. It did not take many more lashes for his battered skin to peel loose, falling down at his knees like bloody autumn leaves.

A deep, raspy caw called down to him. Ivar’s eyes were able to focus enough on the top of the pole to see the black silhouette of a raven, contrasting against the milky white sky.

“Father—“ Ivar watched the bird as his front teeth scraped over the beech wood.

The raven cawed again, its beady eyes mercilessly taking in the scene beneath it. With wings black as tar, it gracefully landed near Ivar’s knees. Ravens were known for their curiosity, but even they knew their limits. It wasn’t common for birds to come so near such a large crowd of humans. But the raven did not show any hesitation and pecked at the remains of Ivar’s skin. It peeked up again, taking a piece of Ivar before lifting off, heading off into the milky white sky.

Ivar inhaled a sharp breath as the leather tore at his skin again, but this time he felt elevated.

“You can beat every inch of my body,” he whispered hoarsely, “but you cannot kill me. Not today, because I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I have my father’s blessings.”

His eyes rolled back as his body was close to giving in to the immense pain scorching his entire back. The crowd had grown silent; most faces contorted with plagued expressions. The fair maiden had fled the scene. Ludolf’s lips were twisted into a satisfied, lopsided and sadistic smile.

Pain prevails over every emotion. It conquers lust, hunger, envy, hatred. Pain can divide brothers by blood; it can drive wise men mad.

To triumph over pain, you need to be extraordinary—near Godly.

In between the last few lashes, Ivar had an epiphany: he could not die before he’d fulfilled his destiny. And, although he did not know what lay in his future, he wholeheartedly believed the Gods had laid out an exceptional path for him. It became quite clear; he had beat death too many times to simply die by the hands of a Christian commoner.

Maybe he deserved this punishment, for he’d questioned the Gods too many times and cursed them for turning him from a cripple prince into a slave. His mother had been a Vülva, able to see the past, present and future. But interpreting the will of the Gods was hard, maybe she’d seen his death wrong and had it merely been a rebirth.

He’d been resurrected from death, by his father, time after time. So for today, Hellheim and Valhalla had to wait for his arrival, for he had his destiny to fulfill.

.-.-.

In the bible Moses’ Law referred to flagellation; the law itself meant forty lashes less one; thirty-nine lashes. The term was meant as a biblical one, in that 40 lashes were determined enough to kill a man, according to the Old Testament and thus 39 lashes was the most you give a man without declaring a penalty of death.

Today the crippled slave of de Haar survived forty.

.-.-.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been so impatient to write this chapter. At the start, I only had a few guidelines: hurt, massive hurt and excruciating hurt. But then I figured I had to keep Ivar’s spirit intact in order for him to survive. So yes, once again Ragnar in the form of a Raven reappeared. As I’ve mentioned before, you can see this every way you like, spiritual, emotional. Is it just a young man in desperate need of comfort, or is there truly a link between Midgard and Valhalla? Pick whatever you please. And in case you wonder, I’ve made up Ivar’s entire path towards his destiny like the moment I started writing this story. In my head, it’s all written out, wrapped into a trilogy. Now just the time to drabble it all out. The 40 minus 1 is a true thing btw, I’ve done some (too much) research, it’s believed that Jesus received 39 whippings and since I’ve thrown Christianity into the mix I figured I might as well add some information as well.

So that was it for today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or sat there cringing in your chair, either way I’ve done my job well.

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #ivar fanfic #alex hogh andersen #vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic

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secretlanguageicanspeak · 4 years

Text

I HAVE A FOLKLORE THEORY

what if the actual fantasy element of folklore is specifically the events that occur in at the end of betty?? as in, james was with someone else that summer despite loving betty, but instead of going back to betty and showing up to her party, james chose the more mature option of not going back to betty because they both knew how it would end, they’ve seen this movie before... cardigan/betty/august are fictional because they exist in an imagined reality, different from the other songs on the album.

disclaimer: (i believe james represents taylor and her role in this story, but it is up to speculation so i’ll just stick with speaking about james as the character in folklore,, james’s gender doesn’t really matter to me since it is a character, but i’ll use he/him pronouns for the sake of this post)

the 1 (betty’s pov):

“I guess you never know, never know”

...[what would have happened if you came back]

“And if you wanted me, you really should've showed”

see betty: “So I showed up at your party...” -- james didn’t end up showing, this did not happen

“And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow”

see cardigan: “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'” and “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” -- in the alternate reality, betty was the only one bleeding, so she grew because of it, and that’s why she is Wendy. james never bled, so james was Peter who never grew up.

see peace: “Our coming-of-age has come and gone” -- this line suggests that they BOTH in fact grew up (OUR coming-of-age), so neither of them could be Peter. -- “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near” -- the summer is the same season as the love triangle setting, another sign it’s the same people. these lines depict james essentially backing down from something he really wanted to do out of fear. this seems to be a reference the decision NOT to go to betty’s party last minute, even after planning for months.

“And it's alright now”

this is simply acceptance of the situation, they have separated for good.

betty (lead up to the party):

...About why you switched your homeroom... Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard... You heard the rumors from Inez... The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you

pay attention here to the tense usage in verse 1 and the pre-chorus. clearly all the statements in these stanzas are in the past and happen during the summer james was with someone else or between then and now.

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

in looking at the lyrics of the chorus, it is clear here that we’re still in the ‘lead up’ phase. james is DAYDREAMING the possibilities of what could happen *IF* he just showed up at betty’s party.

Betty, I know where it all went wrong Your favorite song was playing From the far side of the gym I was nowhere to be found I hate the crowds, you know that Plus, I saw you dance with him

in verse 2, james is recounting another event which he claims to have led to him doing “the worst thing that [james] ever did,” betraying betty. it is clearly serving as a background story that occurred a long time ago. the “dance” with “him” is very likely the same story as in the first lines of exile, “I can see you standing, honey / With his arms around your body”

I was walking home on broken cobblestones Just thinking of you when she pulled up like A figment of my worst intentions She said "James, get in, let's drive" Those days turned into nights Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long

the bridge is simply a continuation of the story begun in verse 2. james left the dance after seeing betty with “him.” on his way home, he runs into “her” who i’ll call august, and then their summer affair begins. again, this is long in the past now.

betty (verse 3):

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep

this line appears to be referencing the same moment as this is me trying: “And maybe I don't quite know what to say / But I'm here in your doorway” however, in this is me trying, which is the main/real plot line, james just says, “I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.” with other clues from that song, this statement means james is trying his best to move on and mature in life, catch up with his classmates after the huge setback of losing betty.

i believe james is trying, although struggling, to accept the end of this relationship forever because of his actions. the line “I didn't know if you'd care if I came back / I have a lot of regrets about that” suggests the ‘regrets’ are because james chose to not come back because he assumed, possibly wrongfully, that she didn’t want him to. (i discuss the bridge of this is me trying after finishing verse 3 interpretation)

And I planned it out for weeks now But it's finally sinkin' in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when You see my face again

these lines, in my opinion, best showcased the idea in peace’s first verse as discussed earlier: “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near.” the fact this feeling of anticipation and nervousness ahead of the reunion with betty required an entire verse to communicate shows exactly how intense the feelings are.

The feelings may be internal or external pressures (societal standards and injustices, being in the public eye, and more) which create anxiety in a person. in the rest of the first verse of peace, she reveals the danger is “just around the corner, darlin' / 'Cause it lives in me,” supporting the idea that these fears and anxieties are a part of taylor’s/james’s psyche regardless of the cause of them. the second verse of this is me trying begins with “They told me all of my cages were mental / So I got wasted like all my potential,” which is also consistent with the idea that anxieties are the root of big mistakes.

this is me trying (bridge):

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

aversion to parties/crowds is similar to verse 2 in betty, another indication it is the same people/events. feeling like an open wound is a callback to the 1, “And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow” and betty saying she’s “bleeding” in cardigan, “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'.”

this connection is very important because it proved, as i noted from peace, that BOTH betty and james ended up bleeding, contrary to the accounts in cardigan. BOTH of them were forced by circumstances to accept their permanent separation. therefore, the events in betty didn’t go as they seemed.

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

james is missing betty intensely, just like in betty. the movie comparison brings in several songs to the same general story (in tracklist order):

the 1: “I hit the Sunday matinée / You know the greatest films of all time were never made” -- during a daytime film viewing, betty remarks that no films she could watch would ever be the GREATEST. as a parallel to a later lyric, “We never painted by the numbers, baby / But we were making it count / You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” we know betty thinks of this love story as the greatest of all time, even though it’s over.

cardigan: “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” i already discussed these lines above, but again the idea that james was unsuccessful in the attempt get back together with betty. james had to become Wendy too, and grow up and move on.

exile: “I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending” the constant comparison of this relationship to tragic films feeds the idea that the relationship was doomed from the start. in cardigan, james tries to change the ending in the hope that love will prevail over all. but in the more grounded reality of folklore such as exile, the pair are hyperaware of how that ending will inevitably happen too them too. “I think I've seen this film before / So I'm leaving out the side door,” so it was time to end it.

hoax: “You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?” here, it is almost a regret about beginning the relationship at all. it was obvious what the ending would be, they’ve seen this film before...but that doesn’t stop them from pursuing it anyways and trying to change the ending for themselves. with a different ending, it would be the greatest film of all time. this is why “Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do” -- this love, although it is a tragedy, is the greatest. and nothing else is good enough.

betty (final):

The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So I showed up at your party Yeah, I showed up at your party

the final pre-chorus reads like the beginning of a Disney movie or a folk tale even, almost as a “Once upon a time, there was a boy named James with one goal and it was to make up for his mistakes....” there should be an ellipsis (“...”) after the second line, creating a divide as the music begins to change and the story moves from reality to fantasy. the key change in the music confirms the transition to an imagined world where fears and anxieties and pressures didn’t get in the way of the greatest love of all time.

Yeah, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch In front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

typically, if a story is leading up to a character finally making a move, there is a payoff for the audience, revealing what ended up happening. in this case, it is still questions. it is still james brainstorming possibilities, still using the word “if.” the chorus concludes with the same “i know i miss you,” which doesn’t suggest any real progress from the beginning because there has to be distance still if james is still missing betty. however, the “would”s changed to “will”s, leading the listener to think james actually did manage to show up, maybe the fantasy is even fooling james himself.

Standing in your cardigan Kissin' in my car again

these lines in the outro of betty have a double meaning: james is either in a haze from happiness because of the reunion with betty or is dreaming about these things happening.

in cardigan, she sings: “To kiss in cars and downtown bars / Was all we needed” THESE LINES ALSO HAVE A DOUBLE MEANING: “all we needed” can both signal relief from the tension, as in, kissing again solved all their problems from before, OR it means “that was all we needed to fix us,” as in, we couldn’t or didn’t kiss in these places, so we’re exactly where we started: a romantic tragedy. this means the downtown bar is likely the party or a symbolic equivalent.

The first meaning of both of those lines was the one that occurred within the fictional/fantasy world. The second meaning, is the reality of what happened because JAMES ENDED UP NOT SHOWING UP TO THE PARTY.

Stopped at a streetlight You know I miss you

the “streetlight” seems to be significant imagery here. in cardigan, “But I knew you / Dancin' in your Levi's / Drunk* under a streetlight” -- this might be a spot of a fond memory that is triggered for james while he is driving by it, reminiscing on that time.

also not on folklore, but in cornelia street, “We were in the backseat / Drunk* on something stronger than the drinks in the bar / The streetlights pointed in an arrowhead / Leading us home.” this cornelia street line seems to be describing a very similar story as cardigan. if so, this supports the idea that james was driving by this streetlight, the location of a very happy memory, and it makes him remember how much he misses her.

the repetition of “i miss you” here makes it clear james never was successful in getting back this love with betty. and betty knows he misses her: “I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired”

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

the fade out in this last chorus also seems to have implies ellipses after each “you’d come back” line because just like the final pre-chorus of betty, there is a hopeful fantasy here. almost like “you’d come back ... you’d come back to me... right?” but as we know from this is me trying, the only communication was that james is trying his best to move on and to be more mature. betty knows it is for the best.

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, YOU’RE A TROOPER OMG THIS WAS MUCH LONGER THAN ANTICIPATED I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED. IF YOU HAVE ANY COMMENTS, PLEASE SHARE THEM ILYYY. @taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylorswift #folklore #folklore theories #folklore theory #taylor nation #taylornation #taylurking #folklore analysis #betty #betty analysis

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

Text

Clarity

There were so many things that you wanted to change. Most of those being things, crimes, that you committed.

Before the Avengers, you had taken lives, ended them in less than a blink of your eye.

The faces haunted you, reminding you that one day you would be punished for your irreversible mistakes.

Bucky had done bad too. It wasn't just you. And so had Natasha, before her tragic fall for the soul stone.

They had been a part of your past, and now it was all dying. But it was still marked into your skin, engrained into your brain. Guilt rolled from you in waves.

Fury stood beside you as you looked down with sorrow at Natalia's grave. It was him, the real him. Not some skull that had disguised himself in the dark man's meatsuit.

"I can't do this job anymore." You told him. It was a simple sentence, yet it held so many complications. "Everyone I started with are gone. Tony died saving the world, Steve gave himself the life he always wanted. Nat died so that we could get this far, Thor left with the Guardians. Clint is retiring, again, for how long I don't know, but I'm sure he'll get a replacement. And Banner, I don't even know. I need to figure out what I'm going to do Nick."

Fury looked at you with understanding. He was aware of all you had done, including the moment when he met you. Yet he still gave you the folder containing the information on the tesseract.

"You're scared. You can't keep running from your past though."

"I'm not." If he weren't a trained agent once in his life, he'd have believed you.

Fury would always be right, no matter the circumstances. He was a wise man, one of the few you trusted.

"At least get yourself some clarity before you go with the wind. Barnes is still here, and if you really wish to disappear let him go once and for all."

"That's not necessary." You told him. "He doesn't remember me in the red room, or the terrible things that we did together."

"One day he will." Fury told you. "And its your choice if you are going to give him a proper send off."

It was a difficult choice. "I wish Nat was here. She would know what I should do."

Your hand grazed the top of the tombstone. There was no body underneath, but the grave gave you clarity.

....

The duffel was slung on your shoulder, not too heavily. It held only the things you deemed as a necessity for an ordinary person.

You'd have been fine starting with nothing, but you deserved to give yourself an easy beginning. It was best to travel light though, and so you did.

This would be a new you in a year's time. No killing. No stealing. Just peace.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked as he entered the room.

Over the course of the years he had become your friend. The two of you stood by Steve's side, and now the turn in events had ended with him with the shield.

"Away." There was no specific location in mind, but you wanted to get out of New York. It was your first fight as an avenger, with your original teammates, fighting Loki and his army from space.

"And you weren't even going to say goodbye?" It hurt, the fact that you were willing to disappear without a word. The two of you had been through so much together, and it felt like it had all been disregarded.

"It would have been easier." You told him guiltily.

It felt wrong, treating him like this in the place that had been his home before he had joined the team. You him and Bucky were residing here, until the Avengers, or who of them were left, came together again, probably having a new compound. "But you're here now, so I can and will."

"Why?" You knew what man was asking. It wasn't something that was easy to answer but you would lie to Sam.

"I want a life Sam, I never had one before. Since I was a child I was trained to speak various languages and kill targets. I want to be a civilian, not some bad guy turned hero."

"Okay." He nodded his head in understanding. "Is there anything you need?"

You took the book, what had once been a journal, from behind your back handing it to him. "Give it to Barnes."

"Can I at least get a hug before you ride off into the sunset of some hot country and forget my name?" It'd be cruel to decline, and so you gave him one last embrace, knowing the chance of seeing each other again would be slim.

....

Bucky looked at the book, not understanding why you had gifted it to him. The two of you didn't know each other well, only speaking here and there or fighting on the same side.

"She told me to give it to you, that's it." Sam informed him, walking away from the man's room with mutual confusion.

As he opened the book on a random page, a date lined the top of it.

28th June, 1987

The Winter Soldier. A man with a metal arm. Formerly known as James Barnes. There is no humanity in his eyes when we kill together, there is only a stone cold stare, one that sends shivers up my spine.

From what I have researched, he was a Howling Commander in a war, a comrade and dear friend to the disappeared Captain America. It seems strange how a man loyal to a hero could put his devotion, through forced tactics, into an organisation like HYDRA.

We are just animals to them, they put us on ice when they please, so that they can pull us out to complete an assignment. I know that there is a real man, one that likes to dance and smoke cigars beneath the soldier's cold exterior.

I have seen him smile, even if it could be interpreted as a grimace, as he walks into the red room to train with me. There is a colour of something other than blue in his eyes, pain I'm guessing. He keeps the men away from me, and saved me, threatening to kill every single one of them within the corporation if they went through with sterilising me.

And so HYDRA, being the real monsters, not me and stoic Barnes, used his protectiveness to their advantage. I never got sterilised, I got impregnated.

They never informed the soldier, seeing as the child was lost on a mission. But I feel guilt every time we are allowed to spend the night together. We do the same act that is how people usually populate. I see a man underneath the HYDRA infused rubble marked on his soul. There is no mission, there is only relaxation and pleasure infused in his mind. That is how I like to see him, not as a soldier but a human being that doesn't need to carry a gun or murder victims under orders.

Bucky Barnes is still in there, in the shell of a scarred soldier. One day, I pray he becomes the soldier that fought for his country, not the one that looms in the shadows, with me by his side, spilling blood and ending lifelines.

Bucky sat back, shocked by the information he had ingested. You hadn't fought on their side of the civil war because you were Steve's friend, you did it for him.

He couldn't help himself, he opened another page, a more recent one.

1st February 2009

It's difficult, knowing that I escaped the clutches of the enemy and turned my life around. SHIELD have taken me and my old friend under their wing. We're to be agents although I think she'll suit this life better than me.

She didn't lose a man with the ocean in his eyes to the red room. I was plucked from that room and paired with the soldier. Bucky.

I'm still searching for him, as I have been for years. He's a prisoner, trained and pushed to do their bidding.

I wonder if any of the other Winter Soldiers are like him. If they're victims of war, saved from death but caught up in the outrageous chaos. Even if they are, they're not my priority.

James is the reason I have joined SHIELD. So that I have more resources to find him, so that I can scan the world for any of his bloody fingerprints.

I've seen him at his best and worst. I've seen the Bucky Barnes that has become of the torment and torture. My duty is to save him. To protect him. To love him.

One more insight couldn't hurt. Although it was hurting, he couldn't recall a single thing in his mind that matched with your eventful words. It was like a story, fiction. But it was all real.

There was no date. It seemed hurried, like you were preoccupied with something at the same time. It was the last page.

He's okay, and will be. He has Sam, I trust him. My trust is hard to come by, but that man has earnt it, not from just me , but Steve also.

Perhaps I shouldn't have kept this from you Bucky, I know you don't remember. If you did, you would have said something, even if it wasn't to me.

Our story needs an end. And so this is it.

Overcome what the Winter Soldier did, that was not you, even if I saw glimpses upon the framework. I'll see you in the next life soldier.

He wished he could remember, but parts were still returning and it seemed there was plenty more to come.

If you hadn't have left, you could have spoken, helped him remember the good and bad that ran through the relationship you had once had.

It may have seemed strange, but he wanted to thank you. For having faith in him, for wanting to save him. For believing he wasn't just some killer.

But you were gone, and had delivered your clarity. The rest was history, all he had was filled pages littered with your handwriting.

Somehow you had kept it hidden from HYDRA, and he couldn't be more in debt. You were smart, and he hadn't doubted that once, but you had more to offer than you had initially let on.

....

"West stairwell." Sam barked at him though his earpiece, sending Bucky bolting to the spoken direction.

They were chasing Zemo, he had appeared again. The walls were white, and it reminded him of some kind of maze.

"Stop." He shouted, but Zemo didn't listen. He tried to run, but seemingly didn't get very far.

A body came from the other end, throwing the criminal to the ground with their legs. "Not so fast." You smirked down at Zemo.

Fear crept into the hollowness of his eyes. He knew who you were, who you had all been. He had tried and succeeded in breaking your family up, and so he had known about all of the members.

"Get back." Bucky had his gun raised, Sam coming up behind him, panting from the long run.

You whipped the hair from before your face, your foot remaining on Zemo's chest. "Nice haircut Barnes." It was good to see a familiar face again.

"Holy shit." Sam muttered at seeing your face.

.....

"We don't have time to follow him and see where he leads us. He knew where you were and therefore whoever he's working for does too." You told them, squinting at the man tied to the chair. "There'll be a tracking device in him somewhere, so we should just kill him."

I don't enjoy killing. There's always blood on my hands, but it's the expense of following orders. Bucky remembered reading that, so who's orders were you following?

"We don't kill." Sam reminded you, making you shake your head in disapproval.

"You're not Steve, Sam." You reminded him, making Bucky wince at the mention of his old friend who had recently passed from old age. "If you don't kill him, then his mates will come here and do it to you."

"We need to know who he's working for." Sam told you, abd Bucky spoke afterwards, almost instantly.

"Who are you working for?" The soldier pried, noticing your demeanor shift to a defensive one in prime time.

"No one." It was protocol to lie, but Bucky could tell that that was what it was. A lie. He remembered parts now, and knew that you tended to stand proudly, acting as though you were telling the truth.

"You and I both know that clarifies nothing." He tried to smile at you, but it only came out as a grimace. A real grimace. He knew you were hiding something.

You ignored him, turning to Zemo instead. "One name. I need clarification on one name and that's all."

"I'm not going to help you, avenger." It was a cruel jab. You weren't a part of that team any longer. Yet you still had that association.

Sam was looking at his phone. "Sharon got something." He announced. "Procto. That's the name of his superior."

"Shit. R.P." You sighed. "You fucking knew since Civil War, didn't you?" Your body got the best of you and you couldn't help your leg from launching from its post and dislocating his knee with a venomous kick.

"Possibly." He spoke. His eyes danced between you and Bucky and the soldier pulled you back so that you couldn't harm the hostage further.

"What's R. P?" James asked, for both him and Sam.

"Its initials. For Rebecca Procto." Your head lowered. You didn't want to fight this villain. If you did, you would once more be the monster HYDRA had made you.

"Who is she?" Bucky asked softly but you remained silent. "Who is she?" He repeated louder. No response came from you.

"She goes by another name." Zemo cut in, looking down at his injured leg.

"And that is?" Sam lead on.

"Rebecca Barnes."

Bucky looked at you, you couldn't tell what the expression on his face held. It was a jumble of emotions, most of which were directed at you.

"You said she was dead." He murmured. "In the book, you wrote she died."

"I thought she did." You responded quietly. "And now she's targeting us. She wants revenge. She probably thinks we left her to rot."

Sam was the only one unaware of the situation. "What's going on?"

"She's out daughter." Bucky told him quickly, filling in the gaps that he ahd missed. It was nice to see he had complete trust in the man.

"Wait - you two.." His finger drew a line between you and Bucky.

"Yes." He hissed.

"Well shit, I was not expecting that."

A/N: Please say if you want another part.

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