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kinnoth · 3 years

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After the battle, after the aether, Thor goes to Svartalfheim to bring his brother home. Loki lies how he had left him in the grey dust, his long, white hands folded over his lifeless breast, and not a thing about it allows Thor to mistake him for being asleep. Life's golden light has fled from him, and he is heavy and cold as a stone in his arms as Thor lays himself down next to him and wishes for a different world.

Even after, when no more tears will come, he holds him for a while longer. Loki's clothes, his hair, still hold his scent, beneath the stale tang of blood, and though there is nothing to pretend, Thor tries to find some relief in it. But night falls, even in Svartalfheim, and Thor must go. He unpins his red cloak and drapes it around Loki as his shroud.

Though it is not his duty to, Thor tends to his brother's body himself.

"This is unseemly," his father says.

Loki is stripped bare under a linen sheet and lain out upon a stone slab, the blue-veined marble of his limbs streaked with dust and black blood. Thor washes him carefully with a warm cloth and a basin of water. He says evenly, "It is not beneath my dignity to care for him any more than it was beneath yours to care for mother."

"She was my wife and queen to the nine realms." Odin knocks his great spear against the floor with emphasis. The chamber echoes violently. "Loki was a traitor and a criminal."

"And he was my brother. And he died for me because I could not save him."

"He killed your mother."

"Our mother died in defence of Jane Foster. Loki shares no more blame for that than you do, or I, or rather--" Thor feels his throat closing and his vision growing watery dim. He pulls his brother's cold hand up to his cheek and holds it there, tries to breathe deep what meagre comfort he can. "It is more my fault than anyone else's." Odin's face twists in something like impatience and so Thor beseeches him before he can start, "Please, father, even if you do not understand, I beg your indulgence in this matter for a little while longer."

Odin leaves him to his task and to carry himself through the maelstroms of his grief. Thor understands enough. Had they been different men in different circumstances, perhaps they might have mourned together, but Odin is not only his father, and not only his king. Thor is an ungrateful son and an ungrateful prince, but for not the first time in his life, he finds himself wishing that, rather than all the riches and privileges of his position, that he might have had a life where he had had a family for himself. A father who was only a father, a mother who was only a mother, a brother who he could have loved without the rule and responsibility and regret of Empire.

(The things Thor would have done for the chance to have loved Loki as his own man.)

But it was always the kingdom that came first in Odin's eye, and, with what it has cost him to keep it, Thor can understand how his father can have no concern left for anything else. He is heir to that doctrine, heir to that great and terrible empire, and god, to think he wanted that. To think what he had, mere days ago, been willing to become. To think that he and his brother had fought each other for that seat, that they had hurt each other for the privilege of being the tinder upon which the heart of empire burns.

Loki had won it and Loki had died, and now Thor is never going to be able to breathe again.

He cleans his brother's hair and combs it from his face. Thor touches it and tries to draw it into his memory. He might live another fifteen hundred or fifteen thousand years and he will never see this face again. This part of his life is over. The best part of his life is over. Thor is already beginning to forget. When was the last time he heard Loki say his name? When was the last time Loki had smiled for only him? When was the last time they had touched?

Thor pulls the sheet up to Loki's chin and makes it neat. He does not have the skill to close or disguise his brother's wounds, and so the morticians must come soon to ply their trade to make him ready for the funeral tomorrow. He has asked that they dress him in particular items in Loki's effects. It is custom that the dead go on in their next journey gleaming in their full armour and raiment, but Thor has never known Loki to be a warrior. He has chosen for him, instead, the clothing he best remembers of him: his deep green coat, his soft-soled shoes.

"I will see you again," he murmurs, for it is late now, and the lamps gutter meaningfully on their wicks. "Goodnight," he says. From his cold bed, Loki does not respond.

Thor wakes without having dreamt and that itself is something of a mercy. He leaves today; he has decided. He has no reason to stay.

He cleans himself and dresses himself and his eyes are dry. He will go to see his brother once more, and then he will go. He leaves the living area and makes his way down into the mortuary. He opens the door and then his heart stops. Loki is sleeping. Someone has come and enchanted the body. They have bloomed the warmth back beneath his skin and closed his eyes and even done the little trick of making his breast rise steadily and fall. They have left him in the clothes Thor chose for him, and for that he is thankful, but he is changed now, something too clear about his expression, too restful in the way they've draped his limbs. And he smells wrong, like nothing, like empty rooms with closed windows where no one lives or goes.

Loki is not here anymore, and there is nothing left in Asgard for Thor, only ghosts and bad dreams.

Thor feels the burning head of anger rise beneath his anguish, but it doesn't matter now, it is done, and there is naught left for him to do but to say goodbye. Thor slips his rough hand beneath his brother's hair once more and strokes his smooth jaw and the warm nape of his neck. He presses his lips to his brow and to each closed eye.

"Take with you all my love, brother," he murmurs. He kisses the thin line of his mouth, and when he draws back, Loki's lips slip open like a breath. "Loki?" he says cautiously, but of course there is no answer. Thor feels a flood rise within him too fast and zcalamitous. His dignity leaves him. He drowns. A ragged breath drags out of him, and Thor feels his legs give way, and then he is weeping.

"Brother, please," he says. He presses his face down into Loki's bewitched chest. His hands have turned to claws, and they rake at his brother's arms and hair and face. "Loki. Loki," he calls, "what am I supposed to do? Please," he begs, a child again, seeking comfort and having no recourse when comfort is not forthcoming. It is his own fault, of course. It has always been his fault. Too stupid, too foolhardy, too slow. What good is all his strength and power if none of it will save the ones he loves? What good is his life if he cannot have the ones he loves?

He cannot be here. He cannot stand to stay here a minute more.

The tears leave him gradually. He has made a mess of Loki's fine jacket, and his eyes feel heavy and dull. He sits back, feeling for his pulse inside of himself and willing it to slow. He must go and see his father; he must tell him of his decision. But for right now, he reaches out and smooths down the front of Loki's jacket and lays his hands back over the front of it. He lifts his chin carefully back to an angle that resembles repose and tucks back his hair. His hand comes away with a long inky coil; even in death, his brother is not free from Thor's injuries.

"Forgive me, I did not mean it," he says. His voice is choked and harsh from misuse, but he strokes, as gently as he is able, the lean angle of Loki's cheek. "Forgive me."

He sits and for a little while longer anyway, it is only the two of them together in this quiet room. For a little while anyway, Thor can almost pretend it is only morning.

#thorki #thor #Loki #thor the dark world #fic idea: odin and thor do not talk about how they are both widowers #authorial intent: odin is real odin and loki is real loki at this point #the trick mr potter is in not minding that it hurts #empire kills his mother his father and his brother #thor is an anti-imperialist #internal thor tag

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forthewoolfy · 3 years

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Regarding the Gravity Falls AU, I have no idea what's going on, and at this point, I'm too afraid to ask. But I love it and will follow it until the very end!

Here’s a summary so far: Oboro disappeared through a portal a decade ago, Shouta has lived in Gravity Falls ever since, the kids came wanting a parent and Oboro was their last living relative. Eri accidentally freed a chaos god Present Mic from his seal, and promised him her Quirk for the key to open Oboro’s last journal. Mic went into Shou’s mind to get it, but ended up trapped due to a second seal Oboro had planned - the reason Shou stayed there. However, Eri still lost her Quirk when she got the key. They’ve just read the journal and found out the backstory of Mic and Oboro - Mic wanted to bring his friends from the nightmare realm to the real world, so Oboro stopped him.

Now they’re discussing the book and a plan to seal Mic again (this time outside of Shou’s head) while Shou has got Eri’s Quirk back, saying he traded his own Quirk instead.

I’m glad you’re enjoying the comic!

#gravity falls au

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roelifant · 3 years

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Spreekt u bodemtong?

Cautiously Filip krept down into the pit towards the luminous, winged being. All the while it stared at him. Magic radiating from it, tingling Filip's antennae. Finally he stopped. Now at the same level as the strange being, he no longer dared to come any closer. It kept staring at him in anticipation, and Filip stared back just the same. It might be verbal. No, it *must* be verbal. Filip thought. Bravely Filip raised his voice and asked: "Do you speak the tongue of the dirt?" Upon hearing this the being suddenly grew in size. Going from a crouched position to an erect stance, revealing its strange number of limbs and its fleshy body. A look of confusion on its face, as though Filip had said something offensive. This sudden action in turn surprised Filip, who moved a few steps back. There was another silence, untill finally the being opened its small mouth and spoke: "What dark magic has enabled you to speak?" "Magic?" said Filip, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Why I'm but a simple bug. I struggle to think on most days, let alone cast spells." "A spell was cast on you to make you speak." said the being. "No. No. We all learn to speak. The ants taught us. Well actually, they taught my mother and then she taught me and my siblings." Another silence broke out. Filip got the feeling that the being didn't believe him. "Why would insects need to speak?" the being asked quietly, as though it was the world's biggest conundrum. "To understand and share the Queen's orders." Filip said. "You are an ant?" asked the being. "Oh no. I'm an earwig. But we bare the Emperial Mark. That means we work for the ants in exchange for their protection." "You dig for them." the being deducted. "Yes. They're amazing diggers themselves but some places they find too dangerous or scary to dig in. So they ask us." "They order you to." said the being. "Yes. Isn't that what I said?" "You bare a mark of darkness and now you are unknowingly a slave to their magic. What wicked fairy has done this?" "Fairy?" Filip asked excitingly. "You know about fairies?" "Yes. I am one." the being said. Filip laughed, allthough the being didn't seem like it was joking. "No." Filip said. "The fairies are extinct since forever ago. They wiped each others out." "The Great Aberon traded our immortality in exchange for a victory. He saved the cosmos from darkness but shortly after vanquishing the Dark Fairies, The Old Nothing came and claimed us all. Thousands of years of eternal life not lived, caught up with us and we crumbled into the dust we were supposed to be." "Ok." Filip said, pretending to understand. "But I lived. I was young enough to survive the transition to a mortal existence. Then I slept in amber for a long time. I don't know how long. Long enough for magic to return to this realm, so the stone could crack open again. If the amber can crack, then there too should be enough magic in the world for me to reclaim my fairy soul. My true, immortal soul." "That sounds like a whole thing." Filip said, just making conversation. "But if I somehow were to die on my journey to reclaim my soul, I will die a mortal death. Then The Old Nothing will claim me after all." "Cool." Filip said. "Hey you seem really nice and all but the ants said this place is dangerous. It's actually an old temple build by magic beings long long ago and there might be magical traps in here and what not. And dead magic things. You don't want to run into some magical zombie, now do you?" The being just looked at Filip and said "You truely are a simple creature." "So you really shouldn't be there." Filip continued without skipping a beat. "Not to mention this is ant territory, well within the borders of the Amfel nest. You know how ants are when they think someone crossed their imaginary lines without their permission." "I don't fear them." said the being. "I wield magic much stronger than theirs. Half a spell is enough to atomize any insect." Filip didn't know what the word atomize meant, but he said "Sure, but they have spears." "Spears?" "Yes. They're like sticks, but sharp. Ants flock together into these huge inpenetrable military formations. It's super unfair. You don't want to find yourself facing off against a spear-wall just because some crazy ant queen finds you're not where you're supposed to be." "Since when do insects cary arms?" asked the being. "I think they started doing it when the spiders became verbal." Filip said. "That was a big yikes for the Empire. The spiders started banding together and attacking ant nests. Ever since then they've been trying to one-up the spiders by creating weapons, and taming beasts and ..." "I must have slept longer than I thought. Maybe for centuries... I was worried when I no longer recognised the temple. Now I no longer recognise the world. I wonder if this happened to all worlds." "You say many weird things." said Filip. "But so do I, so don't you worry. Can you come with me now? I'll help you out of this place. I know a tunnel the ants don't know about." "I won't follow a creature of darkness." said the being. "Oh come on man. Don't give me a hard time. I'm trying to help you." "I am not a man." said the being. "I am a woman. A princess, in fact." "A princess?" asked Filip. "Fascinating! I've never heard of such an insect before!" "A princess is the daughter of a queen." explained the being patiently. "Oh, wait so you're an ant now?! You don't even look like one!" The being just stared at Filip, annoyed. "Some sort of freakish bee then?" Filip asked carefully.

#art #earwig #insect #bug #fairy #story #fairytale

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

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Abandoned (4)

*This one was a week late thanks to finals. Hope this makes up for it!*

~~~

It is strange how normal things can be after having a revelation. Nothing really changes. The sun still rises, waves crash on the sand, and birds sing in the trees. It is all so painstakingly normal.

After I accepted that papa had really left me here, accepted that he had traded me for freedom, I don’t know what I expected. It felt as if the sky should at least be dark and bleak. Rain should be pouring down and the sea should rage like the storm inside me. It was almost comical how I expected such chaos and was greeted with warm days full of sun and sparkling waters.

I stopped looking for the Jolly Roger over the horizon. I stopped counting the days I had been trapped. I stopped trying to recall everything about my life before Neverland in some vain attempt to keep my memories intact. There simply was no reason.

Pan came by to see what I was doing after our nighttime encounter out on the sea. He never revealed himself but I could always tell when he was there. Watching unseen from the trees. Not interfering but not ignoring either.

One day some of the Lost Boys came by me when I was resting at my camp. Upon seeing me they stammered out apologies and ran off back to where they came. My heart panged because I wanted them to stay. I wanted someone to talk to. I thought of going to Tinkerbell but I knew if I did we’d end up talking about papa and I couldn’t put myself through reminders of him right now.

Most nights I heard music coming from the jungle but it didn’t have the hypnotic spell over me as it once had. It as no challenge to ignore it and I wasn’t sure if that was worse or better.

I only ventured towards the camp of the Lost Boys once. The sounds of joy and fun pulled me forward but the reality of what I was choosing kept me from going in. I watched from the sidelines as the boys whooped and jumped and danced around a raging bonfire. It reminded me of the nights where the crew would break out their instruments and dance on the deck. It was nothing pretty but it was fun. I could remember papa teaching me how to dance properly. Standing on his toes...

I reached for my pocketwatch and breathed out remembering how I had hurled it into the sea. I need to stop reminiscing. It’s only causing me more grief. I looked back up at the camp and saw Pan emerge from the shadows. It was as if he had sensed me for he looked right at me. There was a peculiar smile on his face. Almost inviting. He held out a hand towards me, his fingers curling to tempt me to his side.

My feet were rooted in their spot. It wasn’t until Pan took the first step towards me that I was able to move again and took off back into the jungle. I got back to my camp and huddled down in my hut. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I just enter the camp? Why couldn’t I move on?

I was just getting my breathing under control when I felt the familiar gaze of someone watching me.

“What do you want, Pan?” I asked, my voice quiet.

“So you have known that I was watching. I couldn’t tell for sure before.” Pan was closer, standing just outside of my hut. He bent down to peer inside at me. “Feel like talking now?”

I scooted out to the entrance. “Why did you follow me?”

“Because this is the first time since you kidnapped me that you’ve sought anyone out. Considering it’s been over a week since then I figured I’d meet you half way.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t live on your own forever. It’ll drive you mad. I imagine it already has some. That’s why you came to the camp.”

“How come you never said anything? You’ve been watching me for days without a word. Why say something now?”

“Like I said, you sought me out. You wanted space so I figured that I’d wait for you to come to me when you were ready. You can still come back to camp. It’ll be alright.”

My eyes snapped to his. “I don’t want to be a part of your crew.”

He gave a sigh and sat down next to me. “Still don’t trust me?” He asked.

“I’ve accepted the situation I have been forced into. My father traded me for passage out of this hellhole and since crossing realms is no easy feat I do not expect him to be able to come back for me. But…”

“There’s still a part that wants to believe he’s trying to return for you.” Pan’s voice was uncommonly gentle. Almost as if he was talking to a spooked animal. Perhaps that was what I was. A scared little creature that wanted to scuttle back into her hidey hole.

“You must think me a fool,” I scoffed.

“I think you’ve been spurned by someone you trusted and don’t know how to handle it.” He laid a hand on my back. It was surprisingly comforting. “In the years that I have lived I’ve learned a few things. One of them is that loyalty, once lost, is never earned again. Not true loyalty. Even if your father came back for you there is a part of you that would never trust him like you once did.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Pan studied me for a moment longer before standing up and holding his hand out for me, “Come along,”

“Where are we going?” I ignored his hand and stood up on my own.

“I’m showing you that you can trust me.”

He withdrew something from the pouch on his belt. It glittered like a jewel but had an odd shape. “This is a magic bean,” He said, “It can take you anywhere you want to go.”

“You’re not giving me that, are you?”

“No. We’re gonna go on a trip.” He grabbed hold of my arm, “Brace yourself, this can get a little rough.”

He dropped the bean on the ground and immediately the ground opened up into a swirling vortex pulling us both in. I clung onto Pan tighter. The journey was disorienting and my head was spinning when we finally were deposited somewhere else.

As the dizziness subsided I was able to note a few things. One, we definitely weren’t on Neverland anymore. We had been dropped on some dock where the cold air reeked of fish. In the distance there was a town. Most of the houses were dark but there looked to be an inn or a tavern that exuded warmth and energy.

Wait, I know this town! We would dock here all the time. This was where I lost--

My blood went cold. “Pan,” I turned to him, “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see,” He motioned for me to follow him. I pulled my coat tighter against me and followed after him into the town. The closer we got to the tavern the louder the cheer inside became. My legs felt like they were being weighted down by cannonballs the closer we got. Without even looking I could remember where everything was. Down that road was the blacksmith. Around that corner was a bakery. To the right of that well was the apothecary.

Pan noticed me lagging behind and grabbed me to keep up with him. “Really Pan,” I tried to pry his hand off my arm as we entered the tavern. “Why are we here?”

“Because he’s here,” Pan pointed to a spot near the back of the tavern.

Sitting at a table surrounded by pirates and wenches was my father playing a card game and drinking.

“Papa…” A part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him and never let him go. Another part of me kept me rooted in my spot. I turned to Pan. “What is this? Why’d you bring me here? To show me what I’ve lost?”

“Not at all,” he released my arm, “This is your chance. Return to him.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. If you want to you can be reunited with your father and I give you my word I will never bother you again.”

“It’s a trick. A trap of some kind!”

“No tricks here, swordfish. I am being completely serious.”

“You’re releasing me?”

“If that is what you wish.”

I took a tentative step away from Pan. I took another waiting to see if he would stop me but he made no move. I stepped closer and closer to where papa was sitting. This was real. I can go home! After so long I can finally be with my family again!

“Is that the Lady Jones I see?” The sound of a familiar voice silenced any joy I held.

I turned to see who had addressed me. A familiar pirate with overgrown red hair and a stubbly chin walked towards me. He was all muscles and devil-may-care charm wrapped in worn brown leather. “Karver,” I crossed my arms. “Shouldn’t be surprised you’re here.”

“Are you still sore about the last time we met that you won’t call me Quentin?” he shook his head, “If you’d allow me I’d like to make up for it.”

“I don’t want anything from you. After months of being trapped I have finally gotten away from the hellscape that was Neverland and want to get back to my father and crew.”

“Ah yes,” Karver threw an arm over my shoulders. I tried not to shudder. “Captain Jones was regaling the tavern with the tale earlier. Nasty stuff you all encountered. I was wondering why you weren’t with the crew celebrating.”

“That’s because I only got off the island recently. I haven’t had months to become numb to everything we went through while trapped in Neverland like they have.”

“Months?” Karver’s eyebrows knit together, “Kitten, the crew of the Jolly Roger shot up from the sea like a ghost ship a week ago. They’ve been drinking the town dry ever since.”

“A week? It’s only been a week since they left Neverland? A week!” I fumed. No...no this couldn’t be happening. I was on Neverland by myself for months and it hadn’t even been a week here? I knew time moved differently in Neverland but I never expected this!

“Problem?” Karver asked.

I looked across the tavern at my father. My father who was laughing and drinking with some floozy on his lap without a care in the world. This was the same man who had gone silent for months after mama died. It took him years to be comfortable enough to act like the wolfish pirate I saw before me when mama died. To him I had been bargained away a week ago. A week ago he gave me up to escape and what was it I found? He wasn’t mourning. He wasn’t trying to find a way back to me. He was in a tavern getting drunk and having fun. He was here having the time of his life knowing full well that I was stuck on Neverland at the mercy of Pan and the Lost Boys.

I shoved Karver away and stormed back out of the tavern. Pan was waiting outside.

My voice trembled with anger and betrayal. “He was never going to come back for me. It wasn’t even a thought in his head. Was it?”

“I thought it best if you saw for yourself.” Pan said.

“Why though? I’m his daughter! Don’t I mean anything?”

“Sounds like something to ask him.” Pan nodded towards the tavern.

I shook my head. Bitter tears pouring down my face. “No. I want out of here. I want to leave. Now!”

Pan held out a hand for me. “Do you trust me now, Lost Girl?”

I took one last look inside at the man who raised me. The man who sold me. I took Pan’s hand. “I want to go home.”

Pan smiled and withdrew another bean. The next moment we were falling through a portal on our way back to Neverland. The air was warm once again, the sand was pliant and soft beneath my boots. I took in a deep breath, salty ocean air with just a hint of flowers from the jungle on the tail end of it.

I remembered what I told Pan before we returned. I didn’t say I wanted to go back to Neverland. I said I wanted to go home. When did Neverland become home?

“Feel like coming to camp now?” Pan asked, giving a little tug on our interlaced hands.

“Can we stay here tonight? I don’t think I have the energy to go to your camp right now.”

“We?” Pan asked, “Am I to take it that you want me to stay?”

Heat started to creep up my neck and I gripped his hand tighter. “I don’t want to be alone again.” I admitted. I felt like a child. I was practically begging him to stay here with me.

Pan’s features softened and we sat down. His hand still held mine and he used his other to light a small fire for us. “You won’t be alone ever again, Lost Girl.” he murmured, “I promise.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts...

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him.

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast.

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work!

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally.

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person.

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep.

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again.

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it’s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries.

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body.

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara.

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street!

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared.

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me!

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would.

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D

See you then! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement

TITLE: The Arrangement CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12 AUTHOR: the-resal10 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are marrying Loki. It was an arranged marriage and you are not too happy about it. Loki is quite happy as he has always secretly liked you. But he sees how unhappy you are and plays along.

Imagine being in an arranged marriage with Loki. You aren’t too unhappy about it, but he is and is at times rude to you. You two argue and bicker a lot before you both begin to fall in love. RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS: I apologize if there are any typos. This is a quick chapter.

Chapter 12: The Question

Josephine entered the palace, holding a basket against her hip. Loki approached her with a friendly smile, which she happily returned.

“Hello, Josephine.”

“Hello, Loki.”

“You’re just returning from the towns?”

She nodded, “Yes. I brought a few pastries for Thor.” She nodded to the basket. “Would you care for one?”

“Uh, no, thank you. Rosalind isn’t with you?”

“No. She went to the bookstore while I went to the bakery. She told me she’d see me back at the palace. I think she’s still at the bookstore.”

His smile faded. “Oh.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine. Uh, I think Thor’s on the training grounds.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.” She walked passed him, continuing up the hall.

Loki placed his hands on his hips, clenching his teeth as he looked forward, clearly angry. He left the palace, going to the stables and asking for his horse. As soon as the stable boy arrived with his horse, Loki quickly mounted the creature and rode towards the fields behind the palace.

Loki’s horse ran fast to meet Loki’s commands. They slowed down when the only tree within the fields came into view.

He dismounted his horse, not caring to tie the reins to something secure. He passed around the tree, trying to think of reasons why his wife would still be in the towns besides to see her lover.

Rosalind returned to the palace, heading to her chambers where she was greeted by Sterling but not Loki. She looked around before asking a guard if he knew where her husband went, he told her to the fields behind the palace.

She grabbed her satchel before leaving the palace. She walked to the fields instead of taking her horse. As the tree came into her view, she saw Loki’s horse grazing in the fields while Loki sat against the tree.

She picked up her skirts and ran to Loki. By the time she reached him, she was breathless. Loki watched her as she held onto her side, trying to control her breathing.

“What are you doing out here?” She panted. He didn’t answer but stared angrily at her. “Your horse, you didn’t tie his reins, he could run away.”

Loki stood up. She went over, cupping his face. “Hey! Is everything okay?”

“You went to see him, didn’t you?” He said, almost whispering.

“What are you…?”

“Mika.” He said aloud, making her jump.

“I…”

“I’m not stupid, Rosalind. I know you went to see him.” He pushed her hands away.

“Yes, but we didn’t do anything. I swear.”

Loki stared at her, knowing she was telling the truth. “I don’t care.”

He was ready to turn and leave, but she grabbed the collars of his shirt, pulling him into a kiss. Loki wanted to pull away but they hadn’t shared a kiss since they came back to the palace from the mountains.

When she didn’t feel him pull away, she deepened the kiss. She pushed him against the tree, her lips leaving his to place kisses on his cheek, from his jawline to his neck. She pulled at his shirt collar to press her lips against more of his skin. She nipped and sucked, enjoying the breathless moans that escaped his lips.

Loki gripped Rosalind’s waist as they traded places. He pressed her against the tree, hands hiking up her dress and his lips on hers. They shared heated kisses, their hands searched the other’s body, clawing and grabbing.

“Prince Loki! Princess Rosalind!” Someone called out from afar, a guard.

They quickly pulled away.

Loki cleared his throat before peeking his head from behind the tree. “Yes! We’re both here!” He called out.

“Are you alright?” The guard called out again.

“Yes! We’ll be there shortly!” Loki looked back at his wife, who laughed. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled.

“No, I should be the one to apologize.” She licked her lips before opening her satchel and pulling out a book. “Oh, this is for you.”

He took the book from her, smiling. “Thank you.”

He watched as she left him behind the tree and approached the guard holding the horse’s reins. He turned his attention to the book and examined the cover, it was a romantic novel. Loki bit his lip, trying to hide a smile as he followed the two back to the palace.

The following day, Thor left the throne room after a meeting with his father. He saw Rosalind down the hall, talking to a guard in whispers, avoiding his gaze and twisting the ring on her finger.

She finally looked up and saw Thor approaching them. Her lips broke into a smile, “Thor!”

“Hello, Rosalind.” He smiled at her but it faded when he looked at Mika. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded, “Yes. You finished your meeting with the Allfather?”

“Uh, yes.”

“What was the meeting about?” Mika asked.

Thor looked at him, “it’s a matter that I cannot disclose to anyone outside the royal family.” He answered simply.

“Um, well,” Rosalind said, catching his attention. “We can talk about it later if you want. I, um, need to speak to the Allfather.”

“You better go now before he is needed.” Thor said.

“I’ll see you later.” She said to both of them before leaving.

After she left, Mika bowed, excusing himself.

Thor watched Mika until he was out of his sight. Thor searched the halls to find his brother. He found him with Josephine, leaving the library.

He faked a smile and placed a kiss on his wife’s forehead, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, not all.” She said, smiling.

“Good. Uh, Josephine, if you don’t mind, I need a moment alone with Loki.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll leave you two alone then.” she continued down the hall.

Thor pulled Loki aside. “What is it, Thor?” Loki asked.

“Do you know that new guard that arrived in Asgard a few months ago? The one from Rosalind’s realm?”

“Yes, his name is Michael, I believe.”

“Well, I left the throne room and saw him talking to Rosalind. They were talking in whispers so I really didn’t hear what they were saying but it looked as though he was angry with her.”

He looked up at him, “Angry?”

“Yes, and she was avoiding his gaze. So I interrupted them.” he sighed, “I have a bad feeling about him, Loki. I’m worried about Rosalind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe Rosalind and Michael have a history together? And I’m sorry to say this, but maybe they’ve been…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about.” Loki interrupted, angered.

“I’m only looking out for you, Loki.” he defended. “You’re my brother and I would hate to see you played like this.”

“I know, but…”

“I know that you love her, Loki, but I would keep an eye out.”

He sighed, “Where is she now?”

“Talking to father.” he placed a hand on his shoulder, “if you need anything, brother, please tell me.”

He nodded, “thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Loki made his way to the throne room. He waited outside for Rosalind, pacing the hall as he thought to himself. This couldn’t continue, her and Mika. He didn’t care at first but now that he has feelings for her, now that he loves her, he doesn’t want to share her with anyone else. The thought of the two together made him angry.

The doors suddenly opened, making Loki stop in his tracks. Rosalind stepped out, “Loki. What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?”

He looked past her and saw his father sitting on his throne, looking at them. He took her hand, “come with me.”

He led her to their chambers, closing the door behind them. “Is something wrong, Loki?” she asked.

“May I ask what you were discussing with my father?”

“I asked him if I could leave Asgard in a few days. He’s allowing me to see my family for a day.”

“Just you?”

“Yes.” she picked up his hands, “Loki, I haven’t seen them in months and I’d like to go alone. Just to spend a day with them without the ‘princess of Asgard’ title. Not that I don’t like the title, I just want to spend time with them like I did before.”

“I don’t feel comfortable letting you go alone.”

“I’ll be with my father and sister, who are already surrounded by guards that they trust. You know, the guards who look like they could kill you with just a punch.” they chuckled. “I’m sorry, but I really want to go.”

“No, I understand. Sterling and I will miss you, is all.” He searched her eyes.

She smiled, “even if it is just a day, I’ll miss you both as well. Look after him for me?”

“Of course, but what am I to do while you’re away?”

“Whatever you like.” She placed his hands on her hips, “when I return, however, I’ll be expecting an amazing welcome home. You can show me how much you’ve missed me in bed.”

He smirked, “that won’t be a problem, darling.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted fic #submission #the arrangement #the-resa10 #Chapter 12

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dvp95 · 4 years

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meet me in the afterglow

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: getting back together, smut, hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, introspection word count: 1.5k summary: It had been Phil's decision, after all. Okay, technically, it had been a mutual decision, but it had been Phil who actually said the words. They're supposed to be past it by now.

written as a commission fill for ros ♥

read on ao3 or here!

They're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, idly scrolling on their own devices while Buffy acts as a comforting third party on the TV. Ever since he'd first gotten Dan to watch the show, Phil tends to just keep restarting it every time they hit Chosen again. Nothing else is quite as effective in breaking the quiet that could easily get into awkward territory as the familiar snappy dialogue and fight scenes.

Phil hasn't been paying enough attention to the episode they're on. He glances up and sees Tara in the doorway, hears her say, "Things fall apart. They fall apart so hard."

He stands up and mumbles something about going to the bathroom. Dan barely looks away from his laptop, but he asks if Phil wants him to pause the show. Even though they've both seen it so many times, Dan always offers. He's considerate that way.

"No, don't bother," says Phil. "I know how it ends."

Tara is asking if they can skip the hard part of making up and just be kissing again when Phil leaves the lounge. He wonders if Dan is invested enough in the plot to hear the speech, cognizant enough to make the connection to Phil abruptly leaving, or if he's too focused on whatever Reddit thread he's come across to give Tara and Willow any spare thought. Maybe the scene doesn't hit as close to home for Dan as it does for Phil.

It had been Phil's decision, after all. Okay, technically, it had been a mutual decision, but it had been Phil who actually said the words.

They're supposed to be past it by now.

Maybe things would have been easier if they weren't still best friends. They hadn't wanted to get their own places, didn't want to make a bigger deal of the breakup than absolutely necessary. That was a few years ago now - Phil acts like he can't remember the exact date, but he thinks Dan can probably see past his fake cheerfulness every time the anniversary passes - but sometimes it still hits Phil like a fresh wave of bitterness and remorse.

It's not like he's had a lot of experience with this sort of thing. He hadn't had anything that looked like a relationship before Dan tumbled into his life, and there were a lot of things that he thinks he could do better now, if he was given the chance.

They're different people now. Phil has a better handle on his anxiety and a better perspective on what he can do to keep his private life private; Dan has settled confidently into his own skin and gotten through so much of his baggage with his therapist that he's tried to use some of the techniques on Phil whenever he won't talk about his feelings.

"If I wanted to be in therapy," Phil had recently snapped, strung taut by plans of a second world tour coming together to create a terrifying, overambitious picture, "then I'd be in therapy, Dan."

Dan had only shrugged. He rarely seemed to feel any guilt for attempting 'healthy communication', as he always called it. "Just trying to help."

Sometimes Phil hates him for that, but it never lasts. Phil might be able to hold a grudge with the best of them, but that had never applied to Dan. They're too entwined in each other at this point, too purposefully connected in every facet of their lives, for Phil to allow the irritation to make any sort of home in his chest. It's always been easier to let the arguments happen and then let them go.

Phil waits until he can hear Dawn Summers shrieking with happiness over the witches getting back together before he goes back to the lounge. He wonders if anyone would be that happy if he and Dan were to - but that way lies madness. He can't think about that. It's too easy to cling to faint hope that never really went away.

Phil can't be sure if it was Buffy that did it or not, but he's inclined to believe that it is. It's too much of a coincidence that Dan would knock lightly on his bedroom door a couple days later and give him a tired sort of grin.

"Hey," he says, and Phil wonders if he forgot to unload the dishwasher last night or something.

"Hi," says Phil. He slides his finger between the pages of his book and closes the cover gently, keeping his place while he gives Dan his attention. "Everything okay?"

Dan shrugs, hands shoved deep in his sweatpant pockets. He looks like he's been awake for too long, like he forgot to sleep again, and Phil's surge of protectiveness feels instinctual. He hates when Dan doesn't sleep, whether it's on purpose or not. It feels like he should be up with him, at least, keeping him company while thoughts ricochet around Dan's brain like a pinball machine.

"Things are," Dan hesitates for a fraction of a second, "fine."

It's pretty obvious to Phil that things aren't fine. He puts the receipt he's been using as a bookmark into his book and sets it aside. "C'mere."

Dan's whole body seems to slump forward in relief, and Phil feels like he's made the right decision. He sits up against his headboard properly and fluffs up the pillow he never uses. It’s the only thing on the side of the bed where a lanky boy took up too much space for so many years. Dan fills it again, sitting next to Phil and curling in on himself a bit. He leans into Phil, his curly head finding somewhere comfortable to rest on Phil's shoulder.

Wrapping his arm around Dan would jostle him, so Phil settles for putting his hand on Dan's knee and squeezing. He doesn't know if this is just one of Dan's hard days, which seem to be getting more and more frequent as the tour looms, or if it's something else entirely.

The room is quiet for a little while. It doesn't get anywhere near the realm of awkward, even with the cuddling. Phil's hope - dormant, insistent - flares again.

"I've been thinking," says Dan.

"Dangerous activity," Phil can't help himself from joking. He wonders if Dan is rolling his eyes or smiling. Or both, he supposes. A lot of the time, it's both. "What have you been thinking about?"

"I've been thinking that I don't want to do this without you," Dan says, a bit rushed. Phil is opening his mouth to ask for clarification when Dan's patented rambling barrels through. "The tour, yeah, but also the - the telling my family about me, which I want to do, but I don't want to do it alone. I don't want to do any of this alone."

Phil risks the grumbling to wrap both arms around Dan, pulling Dan against his chest in a proper cuddle. "You aren't alone. I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," Dan says. He looks up at Phil, brown eyes wide and full of meaning and close, and Phil momentarily forgets how to breathe. "I know you're gonna be there for whatever I need you to be there for. I just. I want to do it with you, not just... beside you."

There's a chance, however small, that Phil is misreading the situation. He thinks about that and about the choices he'd made that led to this and about Tara's speech, and he decides that he can't keep pushing his hope down like it's an excitable puppy. He lets it consume him, instead, lets the warmth spread through his whole body before he rests his forehead against Dan's in supplication.

Dan doesn't seem to be asking for penance. Dan is asking for something much simpler.

There are a lot of things that Phil loves in this world. Pancakes, Buffy, the way a dog's tail wags when he says hello to them, so many things he could list for days and not even be close to hitting the end. Even so, there's nothing quite like the needy noises that echo around the room when Phil takes Dan's cock deep into his throat, twists his fingers inside Dan, keeps eye contact with Dan to watch the way he falls apart. He watches Dan arch up, sweat beading on his forehead, and feels Dan's hand pushing and pulling in his hair. Dan falling apart - that's what Phil loves most in this world. He can't believe he went so long without it, no matter what his reasons were at the time.

"Like riding a bike," Dan laughs and collapses against Phil's chest. His mouth follows a path from Phil's collarbones to his jaw, ending at his well-abused lips.

Phil grins into the kiss. He wants Dan closer, impossibly. He's got his arms around Dan, Dan's legs bracketing his hips, he's still inside of Dan, but it doesn't feel like enough. They trade lazy, sweaty kisses until Dan eventually starts complaining about needing a shower.

He isn't ready to let go of Dan again, even for a handful of minutes, but that's not a problem - although it hasn't been taken advantage of yet, the shower in this flat is definitely big enough for the two of them.

#words words words #commission fills

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imagine-darksiders · 4 years

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Free Giver

Little story I wrote this morning about Vulgrim meeting a somewhat altruistic human and getting confused about it because I know there are some hoes out there that would like a bit of demon merchant content ;)

-----

A human returns to the Maker Tree, exhausted and sore from running through the ruined city for hours on end, but in spite of the aches riddling their body, they pause in the entrance and glance off to their left, where a large dias has been raised from the tree’s bark, its surface marred by cracks that emit a soft, blue light.

Jaw set, the human checks to see that Ulthane is inside, preoccupied with fussing over a newcomer who’d clearly just arrived via the Bridge.

With the maker well distracted, they bravely venture close to the dias and begin to dig around in their pocket for an item they’d picked up not long into the supply run. No sooner do their fingers close around the object in question than a billowing cloud of blue smoke erupts from the centre of the raised platform and from out of it emerges the tangible figure of a familiar demon, one who’d become something of a frequent sight around the maker tree, much to the giants’ displeasure.

“Human,” he greets them, a wariness hovering about his cold, sharp eyes. They falter for just a second at the sound of his voice, breath catching in their throat as survival instincts scream for them to turn and run away from the demon with fangs sharper than a headsman’s axe. Fortunately, self control wins the day and the human ventures another step forwards, clearing their throat. “Hey, it’s uh...Vulgrim, right?”

Thanks to the trio of makers and their calibre for over-protecting their charges, there’s been little to no interaction between humans and the demon outside, bar the odd, mistrustful glance shot one another’s way.

Yet even so, after several weeks spent with Vulgrim lurking in their general vicinity, the humans’ began to see him as less of a threat and more of a strange - if not eerie - neighbour who’s intermittently spotted gazing out over the plateau from time to time, a pensive frown darkening his already shadowy features.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to hear one of the humans call out a greeting to him. “Morning, neighbour!” or, “How’s it going, Grim?” is tossed around more and more frequently, often followed by a few laughs from inside the tree, as if they’re all involved with an inside joke that he isn’t allowed to partake in. Nonetheless, Vulgrim hardly cares. He doesn’t bother them, and aside from barking a variety of greetings at him, they don’t exactly bother him.

Until now, apparently.

The human approaches Vulgrim’s dias as a deer might approach a wild dog - cautious and ready to turn tail and flee at the first sign of a snarl, but with just enough curiosity pumping through its veins to keep it venturing ever closer. The demon watches with equal uncertainty as he eyes the hand they’re retrieving from a pocket on their coat.

Noticing where his eyes are fixed, the human clears their throat and a smile twitches at the corners of their lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you. I just...ran across something today I thought you might be interested in.”

Then, before he can respond, they’re thrusting their hands out in front of him and he blinks at the sudden movement, leaning forwards to get a better look. There, resting in a pair of quivering palms is something square and shiny and...-

Vulgrim’s wings stiffen unexpectedly and he recoils.

He’d recognise that design anywhere. It’s a Boatman coin. A rare find indeed, especially on this broken planet.

“I found it in the shipyard,” they explain, politely ignoring the demon’s change in demeanour. “It caught my eye and, well I don’t actually have a use for it. Sort of a spur of the moment grab, you know?” They laugh, but the truth is, Vulgrim doesn’t know. “Anyway,” the human continues, “maybe you’d like it? Ulthane mentioned you like shiny things...”

A thousand little thoughts crawl through Vulgrim’s brain. What’s their angle? Is there a motive here? What would be adequate compensation for them? Could he offer them something next to worthless in exchange? Because of course, how on Earth could a human know the value of a coin like that?

“You okay?”

Vulgrim blinks, shaken from his thoughts, not only by the human’s voice, but also the level of concern that oozes from it. Then again, perhaps he’s mistaking concern for fear. Refocusing back on the tiny creature before him, Vulgrim is surprised to find their eyes match their tone. Brows tilted up in the middle, unnecessarily complicated irises glossed over and glimmering in the evening light. It throws him, causes him to forget what he’d just been thinking about only seconds ago.

“I...What...do you want for it?” he says eventually, earning himself a raised eyebrow alongside a noise of genuine confusion from the human.

“What do you mean?” they ask, and at last, Vulgrim’s inner businessman kicks in.

Once again, that crafty grin stretches across his face and he spreads his arms wide, sending the human a few steps back. “Why, I mean to offer a trade, of course!” he laughs, wondering if humans were always this clueless, “What you have there, is an old coin! A form of currency we demons used to use a long, long time ago. Practically worthless now but...well -” Vulgrim gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “- You weren’t to know its value has decreased. But, I’m certain I have something on my person that would be adequate compensation for such a -”

“Woah, woah, woah! Slow down,” the human cuts him off with a laugh in the middle of his pitch, “there doesn’t need to be a trade, I’m not asking for anything in return.”

The demon’s jaw freezes, hanging open mid-word. After several seconds of tense silence in which the human looks ready to bolt, worried they’d said something wrong, Vulgrim finds it’s his turn to ask, “What do you mean?”

Huffing out a quick laugh, the human replies, “I mean I’m giving it to you. I don’t need a thing for it.”

Reg flags begin popping up in the demon’s head. Eyes narrowed to slits, he gives them a quick, up and down glance, suspicious. “Everyone has something they want.”

“Well...” The human shrugs. “...I don’t.”

Flummoxed, Vulgrim casts his gaze around, hoping to find some incriminating evidence on the human that this is all part of an elaborate ruse to trick him. Eventually, his eyes come to rest on the object in question. “Then...Then there must be something wrong with it!” he snaps, “What have you done to it?”

“Blimey, are you always like this when friends try to give you a gift?”

Abruptly, Vulgrim’s mind goes blank. “When...when fr-?”

“Honestly, Grim, it’s not a big deal. Just take it.” Without waiting to hear another objection, the human cocks their hand back and tosses the coin up into the air, prompting Vulgrim’s body to react in kind. His hand flies out of its own accord and snatches the Boatman coin out of the air just as it begins to sail past his head. He fumbles with it awkwardly until his fingers get a good grip and clamp down around the smooth, polished sides, his eyes flicking down to see a warped reflection of himself gazing back from inside the silvery surface.

Incredulous, he lets his mouth open and snap shut again like a gormless deep lurker, unable to come up with a response to such bluntness. Hearing footsteps retreating, he raises his head and sees the human dragging their feet back towards the tree’s entrance. “But...but you must want something!?” he blurts, even going so far as to hold the coin out towards the human, as though he can somehow will them to take it back from his outstretched hands.

Instead of returning as he hoped, they simply turn their head and shoot him an amused grin, one hand lifting up to wave. “Goodnight, Vulgrim,” they call pointedly, “If you really don’t want it, just toss it over the side. I only picked it up because I thought you’d like it.” And just like that, they’re gone. Returned back into the safe embrace of the maker tree while Vulgrim is left outside, clutching a shiny, new Boatman coin in his talons and about a thousand questions addling his brain.

Minutes tick by and he remains where he is as the sun sinks lazily behind the city’s high-rises. Finally, he hums, lowering his gaze to the coin and staring at it from beneath drooped eyelids. He considers, for a brief moment, doing as the human had suggested by tossing it over the edge of the plateau, although this notion is swiftly abandoned. He can’t see anything wrong with it. And why waste a perfectly good piece of currency? Slowly, almost reverently, he closes one hand over the top of it, sealing it safely between his palms.

For days following their interaction, Vulgrim continues to expect a repercussion of some kind. The human asking a favour, or saying they’ve had a change of heart and want the Boatman coin back. But they never do.

Instead, whenever he sees them, he turns rigid whilst they always throw him a wave or a pleasantry native to the human tongue. The others have even started doing it. Word had apparently spread that the creepy demon who lurks outside isn’t a bad sort really, a tidbit of information that prompted the humans to start speaking with him on a regular basis, much to his bewilderment.

Ulthane wasn’t all too happy when he discovered that the humans had begun to engage with a demon. Elanya, on the other hand, found the whole thing utterly hilarious- the humans had managed to bond with one of the cagiest demons ever to walk between realms. “We should try them out on a Trauma next, see how long it takes before it lets ‘em put ribbons on its horns!” she suggested cheerfully, earning herself a smack around the head from Yarin, who hadn’t quite caught on that she was only joking.

#darksiders #darksiders 3 #drabble #fanfic #Vulgrim #demon #human #Vulgrim experiences human generosity and it baffles him #??#he's making friends

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themarissaharrison · 4 years

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Stay Right Here | Discord

DISCORD THREAD #007

Who?: Marissa Harrison, Nicola Sloane @nicolaeisms When?: Tuesday August 11th 2020 - Immediately after the ‘Always You’ Self Paragraph Where?: NicCleoRissa’s Vineyard, Pennsylvania

Mentions: @cmlopezofficial | Cordelia Lopez (NPC) | Delilah Daniels (NPC) | Lauren Sloane (NPC) Triggers: death mentions, M/H mentions, suicide mentions

PLOT DEVELOPMENT?: No. Just the real feelz.

Marissa

Marissa was always an early riser, she had been her whole life but it was an even truer statement since the passing of Delilah. She liked the early hours, between around 4.30am until about 6.30am when everyone else then began to start their day. In the height of summer like now, being awake so early was even better because she got to watch the sunrise over their new home. That was the right word to describe the vineyard, even though they had only been there a few days, it just really felt like home. The first couple of days, Marissa had been very quiet, still dealing with the devastation of the weekend and processing the video footage she'd witnessed at Delilah's apartment. But, today, as she sat at the top of the start of the berry yard with a hot coffee between her hands she felt lighter... Her shoulders weren't so tense and her head wasn't spinning around as much. They had all had a long talk the night before about everything, and she was sure that that was what had grounded her. Nic and Cleo grounded her. She smiled to herself as she heard footsteps behind her and looked over her shoulder, pressing her lips into her shoulder a little. "Morning honey... The sun hasn't quite broken yet, come and sit..."

Nicola

the first few days at the vineyard were....difficult for nicola. her original plan was to make this vacation about the three of her loves while she was also in recovery. yet after that very long conversation that they've had about what they were going through before this, the bar owner just....slipped and told them what has been going through her mind. how spacing out became a frequent thing for her again after almost a decade, expressing her fear of losing them and how it felt like it did that night. how she....how she spent nights before this staying up just to cry and watch cleo and marissa to sleep. though after opening up, it felt like the weight in her chest has been lifted. she's sensed the younger brunette woke up from bed earlier and didn't bother to follow her immediately to let her do her morning ritual. her body clock seems to have been readjusting to riss's...and getting up at this hour seemed new to her, but it just felt right. she got up from bed carefully so she wouldn't wake up the sleeping blonde and got herself a cup of coffee before walking up to what has become riss's usual spot at the berry yard. she wraps her arm around her shoulder and kisses the side of her head. "looks like i woke up just in time."

Marissa

It was hard to hear everything that had been happening with Nicola, because she had known something felt wrong and not asked, not done anything... She had felt guilt when she first heard about the fact she was zoning out again, recalling a few times way back when where she'd catch Nic in the realms of the past. Back then, Marissa didn't full understand what that was like... Now she did. So, now it hurt even more. But, they talked, like they had all made a promise to... They tackled it as a team, a family... They were getting stronger and stronger as a unit and Marissa was just-- she was happy. She let out a gentle hum as Nic's arm wraps around her, leaning in softly to the touch and closing her eyes for a moment when the bar owner kissed the side of her face. Riss let go of her own mug with one hand and placed it softly just on the inside of her thigh. "You're up earlier today, baby... You okay?" She asked, looking up into Nic's eyes with a gentle smile.

Nicola

from then on, nicola realized that in order for this to truly work, she could never suppress things ike this ever again. she recalls her conversations with cordelia about this a few months back, the little girl knew about communication more than her. she also knows it wouldn't be fair on her part if she kept things to herself. she wasn't alone anymore, she's got cleo and marissa now, they are a family. "i'm doing okay, my love. i promise." she looks back at the younger brunette, sipping on her coffee for a moment before continuing. "i think my body clock adjusted itself when we got here.... it's actually nice to be up at this hour, you're right." she leans closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. "you look wonderful, as always. but this....no one can compare to this, my love. i can just...." she kisses her again. "you and cleo....you two make my heart hurt, but in the best way possible."

Marissa

Communication was one thing Marissa had always struggled with, which was ironic given the fact that he entire (now ex) empire was built off of negotiation and trade and business talks. But, those were different. This was personal and Marissa had been raised by a Mother who was as cold as ice, a Father who left, and mentors that taught her how to shut it all off and stay in the 'zone'. It was hard. But, Nic and Cleo-- Dela... They softened her, made it so much easier. "Good... Good, me too... This morning I just feel-- relaxed," she breathed out gently, her thumb stroking over Nic's thigh slowly as she listened to her talk. She chuckled when she said Riss was right. "I'm always right, babe," she teased with a smirk as the kissed. This was magical... It was perfect. Her eyes slowly left Nic's and returned onto the views as she nodded. "I've never felt at home before... In my real home in Vegas, in Manhattan, London, Paris, Kingsboro..." She shook her head a little. "I've never had this feeling before..."

Nicola

"i'm glad you're getting the rest you need, baby. you and cleo....you two have done so much work these past few months. with the gallery, the cove and the sanctuary, plus taking care of me....i just want to make sure i'm doing the same for you two." nicola chuckles along with marissa. "always....you and cleo are two of the smartest people in the world. i cannot argue with that." she kept her eyes on the gallery owner while she continued on watching their scenery. "i'm home wherever the three of you are. you, cleo, cordelia....you three are my life now." she takes her hand that was on her thigh to hold, intertwining their fingers. "i don't--i can't see myself with anyone else....i can't....i can't ever lose this, you...."

Marissa

"I keep getting these like... I don't want to say panic attacks because that's not what they are but... Just this overwhelming feeling of standing still, of not doing any work. I've not had a break since I was 17... I can't remember the last time I took a real vacation like this," she sighed softly as she fell deeper into the others embrace. "You take care of me more than I think you'll ever know, Nic... And Cleo too, I-- I don't know how to prove to you both how much you mean to me... I've never been good with this but... The three of you... I don't think I can--" Marissa didn't want to say it out loud, about how she wouldn't want to be alive without them. That was too much pressure to put on their shoulders, no matter how true it was. "I love you..." She whispers into Nic's chest, feeling the best possible pain in her heart. She felt a tear roll out from the corner of her eye and quickly wiped it away.

Nicola

“i understand, my love….this has been my first legitimate break in more than a decade….” nicola runs her hand along marissa’s arm, letting out a relaxed sigh as she moved closer to her. besides montauk not so long ago, this is something the older brunette would call the break she’s been needing for years, in a property she shares with her family. “i just want you, cleo and cordelia to have the best care you three deserve. i just….i’m sorry for not telling you two what was happening…” she plants a soft kiss on top of her head. “we’re never going to go anywhere….we’ll be always together, and i promise you that.” she runs her fingers through the gallery owner’s hair as she nuzzled her face against her chest. “i love you too….so much that words won’t ever be enough.”

Marissa

Marissa was glad everything was out in the open now, more or less. It had taken away the strange tension that had been running between everyone since the attack, and now it just... It all felt right again, at least it did for Riss. "You don't need to be sorry... I get what it's like when you're like that, when you keep-- losing touch," she swallowed a little, thinking back to the video, to the psych ward and sighing. There was a question that had been running riot in her mind for weeks now, since the wedding reception of Avery and Monroe one that she hadn't felt right to ask until now. Riss sniffed as she sat up a little and looked to Nicola, reading her eyes for a moment and seeing the love in them. "Would you still look at me like that if I got sick again?" She asked, tone barely above a whisper. "Would you still love me if I had to go back...?"

Nicola

"hey....hey...." nicola takes the coffee mug away from marissa's hand, and puts it down beside hers, before drawing her into her arms. she cups the younger woman's face with her hands and stared at those hazel eyes. "i will always love you even if you get sick again, even if you had to go back....cleo and i will always support you through all of this. we will hold you through the toughest of times....and as cleo would say.....the roughest of seas....." she plants soft kisses on her forehead, the tip of her nose, then her lips. "i will always love you both even if things get hard. i would never give up on the loves of my life, you two never gave up on me. you were the one i was holding on to after i was....i was clinging on for my life. cleo held me away from losing my sanity. you two....with dela....you brought back life in me. i would never....i can't ever lose this....lose you...i can't..." she shakes her head. "i will always love you, marissa harrison. always."

Marissa

Letting Nicola draw her in, she loosely grabbed hold of the fabric of Nic's top as she listened. The roughest of seas... Riss wanted to believe that she had sailed through the harshest weather her journey would make her face but, what if she hadn't? What if they became more dangerous later down the line? Could she handle them? Would they be able to handle her? "I will always love you two too, and Dela of couse... But I--" she swallows thickly as she rests her forehead against Nic's and closes her eyes for a moment to stop herself from crying. "I don't ever want to lose this... But what if my own mind doesn't give me a choice?" Riss furrowed her brows deeply as she took in a heavy breath. "I don't remember-- how I got to that apartment... I don't remember the things I did and if I did that again... If I get bad and-- and Dela sees... She doesn't need to see that... I'm just so scared-- o-of myself... But I can't lose this... I don't want to ever stop loving you..."

Nicola

"neither me nor cleo would allow that to happen, my love. and you.....you will always have us." she gently drags the younger woman to her lap, just kissing the side of her head while she listened to her speak out her mind. "we've lost each other once and i'm not going to let that happen again, i'm going to--we're always going to fight for you, for this, for our family." nicola could remember that day, still.....and how it hurts seeing marissa like that. "what can i do? what can we do to help, baby? whatever you need....we'll support you, be with you every step of the way. you're not alone anymore, my love....you're never going to lose us, i promise."

Marissa

She had heard all this before, this wasn't the first time they had had a conversation like this... But, here in the vineyard, in their home... Those words felt more real, they held more a place in her heart. For our family. She had never had one of those before... Not really... No-one had fought for Marissa, not even Delilah. "Everything that you are already doing... Just-- being with me, in my life... Talking, properly... I know, I don't feel alone anymore. I just-- maybe I'll always be scared of-- my own head..." She sighed gently and shrugged her shoulders a little. "There's nothing anyone can do about that... I just have to learn to live with that," she smiled sadly before kissing Nic softly.

Nicola

"you always have me and cleo....and dela, whenever you're scared. you can...you can tell us absolutely anything. alright?" from that night on, nicola also promised this to herself, not to keep things from cleo and marissa anymore. that she wasn't a burden to them. that they would always have each other. she kisses her back, holding her as close as she could. "we'll fight it, together. we will always be here with you....this place....this vineyard....i thought of this as the place for us when things get too much, a place for us to rest and hide from the rest of the world. i do hope it helps....even just a bit. i....i love you, riss....remember that i'll always be here."

Marissa

Marissa nodded softly as Nicola explained everything again. As she spoke about how they were going to fight this together, the three of them, a team... A family. It was so surreal for Riss, to be using that word so often. Sometimes it made her want to run a hundred miles in the other direction, it was terrifying but... She couldn't leave, not Nicola, not Cleo... Now, not Dela either... "It does help," she said quietly as she played with Nic's fingers absentmindedly. "You help... And Cleo... And I love you both so much," she swallowed with a sniffle. I don't deserve this. That's what went through her mind as Nic said she'd always be here for her. She sighed. "I don't care about my coffee, can I just... Stay like this with you-- for a while?"

Nicola

"i love you and cleo...and cordelia....so much. i wouldn't know where i am today without you three. i--it may not seem like it, but you....thinking about you....that made me dive back up to the surface from the brink of giving up all those years ago. and without cleo and cordelia, i would've lost the little amount of sanity i've had left." the nightmares didn't come that much anymore ever since nicola started having two women around and sharing her bed with them every single night for the past month....and that....that helped a lot. "you can stay with me in any way you want for as long as you like, my love. i got you....i love you." she kisses the top of her head as she held her in her arms.

#discord #c; nic #c; nicola #stay right here

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antiquecompass · 4 years

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If you’re new here (or been here for a bit longer) you’ll have seen me talk about Journeys ‘Verse. If you’re reading @pawsnread‘s new SongXiao fic set in that world, you may, possibly, wonder what Journeys ‘verse is.

I’ve never really sat down and properly written about how and why it came to be, but since it’s growing again, I thought it was time. Below contains both why I started writing the initial story: CW for discussing death of a close relative and how the ‘verse evolved from there:

Back in 2011 my year started off with a tragedy. At the end of January my beloved grandmother died on my birthday. It was a shock. She’d just had surgery the day before and came out of it fine and well. But a blood clot formed and while I was downstairs with Carrie, my twin sister, I heard my mother upstairs answer the call with an ‘oh no.’ I’ve heard that ‘oh no’ before, when I was six and my father died. When I was nine and my other grandma passed away. I knew those words and that tone and I knew what had happened before my mother had even come downstairs. That started a hell of a year that nearly saw Carrie also die (seriously my life went like this that year: birthday/death Jan 30th--funeral that weekend--home for a few days--Feb 12th/13th started Carrie’s months long battle and hospital stay that didn’t end until April) and just, the entire first half of the year was the worst sort of hell I’d been through in a very long time.

The back-half of the year saw me start to deal with the fall out of all that stress.

And like someone who has been in fandoms for years uncounted, I started writing a fic.

My favorite genre of stories to read outside of fanfic is Fantasy. High Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Southern Gothic Fantasy, Young Adult Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, you name it. I love it. I love it when magic is just an accepted part of life, or when it’s a hidden part of life. When magic exists in the mundane only for people to stumble across it and into something fantastical. Magic in the everyday is a theme that runs through a good portion of my fics (not so much in MDZS/The Untamed, but I’m still new here). It’s a genre I’ve loved since I was a child and the one I will forever be the most drawn to when it comes to the need for escapist pursuits.

So, taking my love for that, and me trying to work through shit, and being a fanfic writer, I started writing a fic where someone from our everyday world dropped through a magical portal and ended up in Faery. It combined an original story idea I’d had bouncing around my head for years with a fandom that I was in the thick of and let me work through some things.

I was active in the HBO War Fandom at the time and through James Badge Dale’s portrayal of Bob Leckie I found a character just enough of a bitter asshole to work with and to deal with grief, of a life lost--not actual death, but the potential of what could have been, or what was. The burden of trying to be who you think you SHOULD be and what you SHOULD want versus who you actually are and what you actually need. The year was hell so the fic stalled out, but that’s when one of my dearest friends, Nat, decided we’d basically do our own Fic Finishing Fest. If it wasn’t for her support, and the support of so many fandom friends I’m still so close to (hello my darling Kailey and the ever-amazing Ray), the fic and the ‘verse would have never seen the light of day.

So the first story of Journeys ‘verse, So Spoke the Wanderer, went up in February of 2012. And as I went into other fandoms, other stories followed. As it stands now stories in Journeys ‘verse go from HBO War to Spartacus to MCU to In the Flesh to the Umbrella Academy and now to The Untamed/CQL/MDZS. On Ao3 you’ll only find the HBO War and Spartacus ones, but if you do a little digging on my tumblr, you’ll find the others.

As for what it’s about?

If you can dream it, be it. Essentially.

Our world, the mortal world, exists as is, but because of the Veils dropping between the worlds four times a year (on each solstice and equinox) there is a long cross-veil travel and trade. People from our world who end up on the Other Side/Faery are called Wanderers. People from that side who end up on ours are called Wayfarers. In each world both of these groups have their own little establishments and communities. Since magic is still ‘hidden’ in our world the Wayfarer establishments serve as sanctuaries, homes, and schools for the Wayfarers who decide to settle down in our world, or have to for political/safety reasons.

Both sides had long-influenced each other: the magical side has a meeting of magic and technology, our side has a few magical things it shouldn’t, and yet does.

There are special people, called Realm Jumpers, who can basically punch a hole through space and time at will, crossing the Veils as needed. They’re rare and it takes a lot of training, but for the right price (or the right friendship), they’ll do it for you.

As for the type of magical creatures?

Sidhe, Dragons (often in human form, but watch out, they’ll still singe you), and Sirens hold the most power. Wizards and Weres are in the second tier.

Oracles are of their own class, largely unconcerned with the politics of either world. They’ve got more important, immaterial things to handle.

Ghosts are real and their own form of Undead. They can either stay resting and wait for a rebirth, or they can linger on as ghosts, becoming corporeal during those Veil Drop days. Ghosts can be made alive again, but there is always a price to pay, and that price varies in each case.

Healers and Reapers and Necromancers. Readers of the Last Thoughts, Sprites, and Goodfellows. Pucks (an entire other class of Goodfellow), Bards, and Minotaurs and so much more. They’re all here and they all mostly co-exist.

And so many Changelings. Children born of human and magical parents or with some seriously magical recessive traits. Changelings are all over both sides of the Divide and a reason why some of those Wayfarer and Wanderer establishments exist.

Most of the Other World we see is concerned with Ville, a major city where the Sidhe Queen lives, or with Merrymec, a village where a Sidhe Prince and his Siren husband live and where a university and library that are a very safe and welcoming place for Wanderers is connected to their manor.

For the MDZS/Untamed fics coming, an entire new aspect of the verse is introduced. The Winter Court is the home of the Winter Sidhe. They exist outside of the political realm and intrigue of the Sidhe Queen, long-ago deciding they’d rather stick to their mountains and focus on their magic and their part of the world than get into all the pointless b.s. of Ville. Our favorite Lans and a few other familiar faces are members of the Winter Court.

In Lotus Pier are the Jiang Wizards, though their family line is a bit more interesting.

The Jins and the Nies are wolves, shapeshifters, and well, their story is for another time.

And the Wens? Either Fire Demons or Healers depending on the branch. So either the problem makers or the ones who have to fix it.

This verse is truly a labor of love and everything I’ve written, probably contains some of the most personal writing I’ve done. I was adrift in 2011, I was 2 years out of grad school with an MA in history and working in a grocery store (where I still am, because, holy shit does life throw some curveballs). I had to move back home, leaving my beloved Boston behind, because I couldn’t afford rent and student loan payments. I felt both stuck and lost at the same time, and a lot of that went into So Spoke the Wanderer, because at the end of the day, some things are about choices, but some things do happen for a reason.

If I hadn’t left Boston and returned home, my sister would’ve died in September of 2010. I was the one who found her after she had a seizure, barely breathing in her bed. If I hadn’t been home, if I hadn’t woken up and gone downstairs---well, choices. And intuition. Sometimes you can’t dwell on the What-Ifs because it’ll drive you mad.

The verse is named Journeys for a reason, from a Frank Turner lyric:

But in the end the journey's brought joys that outweigh the pain.

And as I learned to accept a new lot in life, the stories themselves changed. Not that any of them are dark or tragic, but the subsequent stories are far more light-hearted, and more about hope than the first one.

But the one universal thing in every last one of them: found families.

So, if you’re just coming into Journeys or if you’ve been here for a long time, I hope you enjoy what’s to come. You don’t need to read the previous stories/fandoms to understand the ones that will be posted this year, just treat the unfamiliar names as original characters and you should be fine. (For people who HAVE read the other stories, know that Reaper Roe is going to be showing up, as he always does, in everything.)

Any questions? My askbox is always open.

#long post #personal post #verse: journeys

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autismgavemychildvaccines · 5 years

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Economic downturn, racism and war.

So, normally I’d be in some sort of non-sober state while writing this, and be full of my typical rash wit. But not today. Today I want to talk about what I (and many others) are seeing down the tube. First, let’s go over the quick run of what’s going on. 1, we’re having concentration camps of both migrants as well as asylum seekers. This is inherently inhumane and a violation of various multiparty agreements that were made post world war 2 to not cock things up like Germany did with the Jews, or more locally relevant, what we did to fuck over the Japanese in the same period. 2, We’re in a trade war with China, who is itself trying to do a hostile takeover of Hong Kong (and don’t kid yourself for a moment, that’s exactly what the fuck that is), which happens to be the 3rd most important economic center in the world by most accounts. 3, Russia is fucking around with our politicians and buying them off to make for easier voter suppression and just bloody hacking the electronic voting machines, which oh by the way, an adequately caffeinated high-school nerd could probably do. 4, And finally, despite not technically being “in a war”, we’re not at peace, either. Hell, we haven’t been for as long as I can remember. Like many people on this website, one of my first memories was 9/11 and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. I vividly remember the latter, as we sat in our living room watching the bombs drop and my mother in hushed tones said “Well.. This is it.” and my stepfather, an Army Ranger at the time, looked tired and said matter of factly “we’ll not be rid of this until you’re a grown man, and even then..”. And he was right. Now, all of these things seem somewhat not related. Well, I guess I should say the 1st doesn’t exactly line up with the 2nd and 3rd, which have some geopolitical relevance to each other. But let’s take a history trip together, shall we? First, be sure to bring the hairspray, because we’re going into the Reagan-era and just before for a bit. Imagine if you will the supposed dying throes of the Cold War. Bioweapons program supposedly being shut down, the Soviet Union splitting away, and the Americas? Well they’ve gone through hell, and by no small measure it was due to proxy wars, puppet governments and a complete disregard for “other” people for the sake of borders and protection. Panama, Nicaragua, Guatemala and other countries are having civil wars funded by both sides of that iron curtain, causing institutionalized violence, setting the development of these countries back fucking decades, and setting them up to fail. [Note that when I say “setting the development back”, I do not mean they are in any way lesser to us due to this. In fact, in my wheelhouse of Public Health, they arguably do a better job of handling shit than we could dream of in the US. They’re damn fine people, and in some ways thriving, but to say we didn’t fuck with them would be a disservice. ] Part of this “setting up to fail” strategy was the use of drugs as a means of easy funding, which the U.S. government did wholly support to the point of screwing African Americans (and to a much lesser extent, poor people in general) in particular over by introducing things like Cocaine and Crack to poor neighborhoods (though it should be noted such drugs had been in the realm of public notice for the better part of a century before, just not as accessible). Funny thing about using drugs to fuel wars. Wars can end. But the demand for drugs by a population that doesn’t have the ability to be treated due to some “moral outrage” against helping addicts? Well, that still remains a very profitable venue. So even after we stopped giving a fuck about any of these countries and their governments gave up the sale of illegal drugs, at least in the open, criminal elements showed up to do what they did best: manufacture and transport drugs to where the best demand was, the United States typically. And to protect this profitable enterprise, these groups would claim territory, claim children as recruits, commit other crimes to support the chain, etc. And these activities still go on today, wherein some cartels and gangs have gotten rich enough to effectively buy off governments and have their own fiefdoms, where those with any ability risk their lives to run. And yet, so many do. Also, it’s important to note that while countries like Mexico are arguably more stable than say, Honduras or El Salvador, they’re still pretty fucked from the radiation of these activities. So these families try to make it to the closest, arguably “most stable” country they can, ironically the one that set the stones for the foundation of where they found themselves. And they are treated as trash, as less than human, as animals. Because we refuse to see our own guilt. We refuse to see what we have done, not centuries ago, but less than 50 years ago. And who is egged on the most to hate these people? Well, if you look at it, it’s the least “most powerful” group that can easily be manipulated: Lower class white groups by a vast majority. Groups who themselves see hardships, certainly, but more than anything know two words: Fear and Authority. They are afraid of the “other”, the “jawb steelin’ immigunts”, the “criminals and rapists” as the person who inhabits the White House calls them. And they respect and adore those who can wield an iron first. Someone they can imagine being, whether it’s a business tycoon of a dictator they see as a near-messiah, who says it’s not their fault they are struggling, and then makes an easy, low effort “solution” for them to point to as to what could cure all those ills which are, at their root, legitimate. [Note: This by no means excuses any White Supremacist or other racist ideologies. That shit needs to be fixed, and there is no excuse for that.] Let’s take a pause for a moment on that, as it’s significant. Is this the first time this has happened? Heavens no, in fact, many examples exist in history. But one stands out to me above all. Go back with me again, if you’d be so kind. You feel the warmth of the sun on your face, you can hear the distant waves, and the not so distant hustle and bustle of a city. You smell a mix of salt water infused air with just a hint of smelted metal or gunpowder. Perhaps you hear some music from The Andrew Sisters crackling out of a radio near an open window. You’re in San Francisco, not too long after the World’s Fair, where the hopes of Utopia were promptly shut off to be dismantled and loaded for the war effort of World War 2. In fact, as you look around, you see the strangest thing. There are clearly Japanese inspired markets and homes all around, but inhabiting them? No Japanese, surely, but the Shoe Shines and markets filled with a vibrant African American community. Some would one day call this the West Coast Harlem. And by their account, it was a wonderful community, of which I have no doubt. However. Those who lived and worked and loved in these buildings just months prior were put into camps. In Utah, in Nevada, California, Washington. In fact, it pains me a bit to know one such place is but a very hearty stones throw from where I sit writing this. They were put there and made to stay due to risk of espionage, national security, or “for their own safety”. They were told to join the war effort as translators or soldiers, or remain there. The doctors of that community and the nurses too would end up working without pay, saving their own communities with limited supplies and truly working goddamned miracles in these camps to keep people alive, as politicians would brag “For every cent we spend on the Japanese, we spend a whole dollar on our boys out on the front!” That kind of shit sound familiar? And that African American community? Well, while it was a positive thing for that demographic, certainly, and they had a valid right to be a community, that was by no means organic. The military spread out to places like Arkansas, Texas, Georgia, wherever there were large populations of blacks, whom the whites saw still as highly undesirables, and the military saw as cheap labour. Well, the military found their people. And those people found cheap, effectively abandoned communities, and were able to live somewhat better than where they came from, all while building warships. However, just like with the previous example, this war wouldn’t last forever. But not just like that previous example, the demand for warships is rather... Specific, in both timing and transferable skills, shall we say? So, this cheap labour was made of a demographic that could be relatively easily discarded without them having enough of a voice to cause waves. And soon enough, the Japanese would return from their internment camps, and let’s just say things were... Tense, between these two groups. Two groups who were, by most accounts, politically undesirable, and if they were fucked, well who would care, right? If it caused generational issues, and exacerbated an economy that would make a good deal of trouble, as long as it’s not the demographic that matters... No worries. It’s not like they even really have good proof of who was really at fault, nor who profited from later real-estate scoop ups and other such economic trends. After all, they moved for the jobs, and the Japanese? Well that was a national security issue.... Don’t you love your country? While this isn’t analogous to what we are seeing today, I hope you can notice the similar theme. Except this time, the demographic in question has to feel “empowered” in some way, and having who they want voted in anyways due to international meddling is more an afterthought to the “yay, we won!” mentality. And the expendables will have a bit more of a veiled attempt to undercut their work via a trade war with a nation who is admittedly, a scumbag (which we have collectively supported with corporate dollars for decades). This trade war will cause a lot of businesses, farms, and the like to close, making it easier for corporate groups to buy out the competition and profit all the more for it (despite some initial risk due to economic trends). All the while, a different, remarkably innocent group is being blamed and tortured for their “crimes”. It would not surprise me if in the next 2 years, we will see a recession that will make 2008 look pretty alright. And make no mistake, it will not be due to the president at that time. The gears of the machine have been turned now and in the last year and a half. Likewise, we may well see a war. With who? I do not know. But I most certainly know who will profit from it. And who will die from it, and who will be dehumanized further to be the scapegoat. We’re in incredibly dangerous times, and we need to be aware of why, if we have any hope of surviving.

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thepseudowriter326 · 5 years

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20 Questions With a Sorcerer

Summary: Arthur survived the season and he and Gwen have some questions. Slight AU, No Slash

I do not own Merlin or any of it’s characters

When Arthur survived it was a miracle. He didn’t wake up for days and it took much longer for him to regain his strength. But it had been a month since then. Arthur was almost fully recovered and he’d requested to see Merlin.

Merlin knocked and the door opened to show him Gwen with a warm smile. She immediately pulled him into a hug.

“I haven’t seen you in ages.” She said before letting him go. Merlin replied with a sheepish smile.

“You finally learned how to knock.” A familiar voice said from the bed. Merlin looked over to see Arthur sitting upright against a few pillows. He didn’t have his normal tan and he was shirtless. Merlin could see the tops of the bandages peeking out above the blanket that covered his legs and stomach. But he looked a hell of a lot better than he did last Merlin saw him.

“Lord, Merlin would you relax? You’re even paler than usual.” Arthur commented

“Sorry” Merlin answered. He swallowed “why did you want to see me?”

Gwen sat next to her husband on the bed and motioned to the chair. Merlin sat and stared anxiously. In that moment Gwen noticed how remarkably similar he looked to the teenager who she watched come into town all those years ago. The same look of nervousness and anticipation.

Gwen walked over to the table where a kettle and three cups sat. She poured two and turned to Merlin

“Would you like some tea?”

“No. Thanks. Guinevere.”

Her full name. Merlin never called her that, even when she became queen.

Gwen and Arthur looked at each other.

“I wanted to talk to you earlier, but you were never with gaius when he came ” Arthur stated.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

“That’s fair” Arthur replied

There was a pause that felt like it lasted hours before Gwen spoke up.

“Merlin, I know how scary this must be, but we didn’t ask you here to arrest you. We’re not going to execute you. That was never even a consideration.”

Merlin exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “So why am I here.”

Another shares look. “We want to ask you some questions.” Arthur said

“You’re not in trouble.” Gwen interjected. “We just want to know the whole story. But we won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

“No. It’s fine.” Merlin said. “What do you want to know?”

“That easy?” Arthur asked.

“Honestly I’m just glad you don’t want to kill me.” The couple both laughed, but it felt forced.

“I don’t even know where to start.” Gwen said.

“Me either” Her husband replied.

“Why don’t we start with easy ones and get harder.” Merlin suggested

“That’s probably a good idea.” Gwen said “Is anything off limits?”

“I’ll let you know if you’ve gone too far.” He jokingly answered.

There was laughter and then nothing or several long moments.

“How long, have you been practicing magic?” Arthur broke the silence.

Merlin sighed “I...I was born with magic.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.” Gwen said incredulously.

“Neither did anyone else. I’m kind of an anomaly.”

“So you just have magic, and no one knows why?” Arthur asked.

“Well I didn’t say that.” Merlin replied. He was met with two identical stares, urging him to explain. “There’s sort of a prophecy.”

“About you?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“Actually it’s about both of us.”

“What does it say?”

“It says you are the once and future king. And that you will unite all of Albion.”

“Why have I never heard of this?”

“It’s well known among sorcerers. But I imagine your father wanted you to have nothing to do with it.”

“You know other sorcerers? What do meet up once a week for a pint?”

“No. We just sort of always end up running into each other.”

There was a moment of silence before Gwen spoke up. “Who else knows you have magic”

“A few people. My mother, Gaius, morgana found out somehow, and Umm.” he trailed off.

“What?” Arthur asked

“Umm well you remember Lance came to the knights because we were friends. He sort of figured it out.” Merlin paused knowing it was a sore subject.

“Oh” Arthur replied

There was silence for a moment.

“What does the prophecy say about you?” Gwen asked.

“What” Merlin asked.

“You only told us what it says about Arthur. What does it say about you?”

“It… it says that I’m supposed to protect Arthur. And bring magic back to the realm.”

“I don’t think I need protection.” Arthur replied.

“Says the man with a hole in his stomach.” Merlin answered. Arthur reddened and Gwen and Merlin shared a look.

They talked for hours. Merlin telling them all the stories they’d never heard.

“No. No way. You did not get shot last week. I saw you last week.”

 “I can show you the scar”

“Please keep your clothes on merlin.” Arthur replied a little too loudly and they all burst out laughing. About halfway through the night thr tea had been traded for wine and even Merlin partook.

“How do these people keep finding you?” Gwen asked still laughing

“I’ve been asking myself that for five years.” Merlin replied causing another fit of laughter from gwen and a chuckle from arthur.”

“You have to teach me how to call a dragon.”

“Well you’d sort of have to be a dragon lord first.”

The mood of the room immediately changed

“Is that a joke?” Arthur asked.

“Are you regretting saying that you wouldn’t execute me?” Merlin joked, but no one laughed.

“We have record of every dragon lord, and Balinor was the last one.”

“Right. I didn’t think we’d get around to that story tonight.”

“Merlin if you don’t want to…” Gwen

“No. It’s fine.” Merlin took a breath. “Balinor worked for your father. He kept dragons from attacking the city. But then Uther put out an order for the execution of all the dragonlords.”

“And then Balinor escaped. I know all that. What does it have to do with you?”

Merlin sighed. “What you don’t know is how he escaped. Gaius didn’t agree with Uther’s views on sorcery. So he put Balinor in hiding with his niece. My mother.”

“What are you trying to say?” Arthur asked.

“Balinor was my father.”

Gwen and Arthur both went completely silent.

“He didn’t want to get my mom in trouble so he skipped town. He had no idea she was…” Merlin paused when he saw their faces. “Really It’s fine. I only met him the once so we weren’t close or anything”

Suddenly Merlin was once again wrapped in Gwen’s arms. Tears pricked at her eyes while she reached out to move some hair out of his face.

“I don’t know how you function with your hair always in your eyes.”

“You sound like my mother.” He said back

Gwen chuckled “I think I’m gonna get another bottle.”

“I keep telling you we can get a night servant.” Her husband replied.

“I am perfectly capable of walking to the kitchen, my love.” She walked out leaving the boys alone.

“Listen, Merlin. What I said about him not being worth your tears.”

“Don’t worry about it. You had no way of knowing.”

“I know. I just wish you had someone to talk to.”

“I had Gaius.”

“Yeah, but I mean. Someone your own age, who isn’t your uncle.” He paused. “When my father died you were with me the whole time. I just wish I could’ve done the same for you”

“I appreciate that.”

The door opened and gwen returned holding two more bottles.

“They’ve changed the whole kitchen since I was last in there. Took me ages to find these.”

“Thanks, Gwen, but I should go before I say anything too embarrassing.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Arthur joked.

Merlin smiled and walked out the door. He was part way into the hallway when He heard his name.

“Merlin” Arthur’s voice called. The servant turned to face the couple. “Same time tomorrow?”

#merlin #No Slash #Slight AU #post series finale #spoilers #major spoilers #all the spoilers #arthur pendragon #guinevere #gwen #bbc #merlin fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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RWBY Recaps: Vol. 5 The More the Merrier

This is a re-posting from October 9th, 2018 in an effort to get all my recaps fully on tumblr. Thanks!

Hello, moon.

Will we ever learn what happened to you? Not in this episode! That ominous shot (countered with the oddly soothing sound of crickets) is just to situate us before we pan down, revealing the gang making their way to the meeting with Lionheart. And honestly? I kind of love everything about this composition. Let’s tick things off:

We have Jaune and Ren mirroring each other with determined expressions and clenched fists. They’re ready to kick ass if need be.

Same with Ruby and Nora except they look like they’re out for a casual moonlit stroll—with the added bonus that Nora is manically thrilled about this adventure.

Yang is pretty blasé. Been there. Done that. Survived worse.

Weiss? The embodiment of “Ugh I could be home right now instead of walking around in this heat this had better not mess up my hair.”

Oscar looks way out of his depth and is hanging back from the rest, as we’d expect given that he’s a farm boy joining a group of elite fighters that have had years to bond without him. It’s Awkward New Kid Syndrome with a side of extreme danger.

And then there’s Qrow. Out in front. Suspicious looks all around. Iconic hunched shoulders. Really wants to put his hands in his pockets but the animation isn’t quite there yet. Behold, everyone. Our leader.

For real though, jokes aside I honest to god love this opening. It’s quick and from a practical standpoint sets up only that they’re heading somewhere as a group, but if you take the time to actually look you’ll see each of their personalities shining through. We might bitch about RWBY’s faults, but there’s a whole lot of love poured into this series and more often than not you can see it in the details.

Ruby pauses then to take in Haven tower—always one to appreciate beauty even when things are bleak—and then hangs back until Oscar has caught up. It’s a wonderful little moment between them because there’s no dialogue and ultimately none is needed. He doesn’t stop for reassurance, but he could. Ruby gives him that option and waits until Oscar passes her before continuing herself. The whole scene is heavy and poignant. There’s nothing but music until they arrive inside and Lionheart breaks the peace with, “Why hello. There… seems to be more of you than last time.”

Yeah. You can hear the fear in his voice. As if the rest of this setup didn’t already scream “TRAP, TRAP, TRAP,” He’s gotta be super suspicious in his greeting too. Leading them out here in the dead of night. Lionheart up on the podium—both figuratively putting himself above them and literally keeping himself out of harm’s way. Then the first thing out of his mouth is a worried comment on their numbers? Suspicious, suspicious.

Qrow: “Oh you know what they say. The more the merrier.”

He did the title thing! Love that.

Except the delivery makes it clear that Qrow is also suspicious as hell. No one has drawn their weapon yet, but the fight has already started. Qrow and Ozpin know that this is no simple meeting. Now Lionheart knows that they know. A quick shot reveals both his fear and the fact that he came with a weapon of his own:

Qrow tries to continue the charade by asking what’s up with the council and Lionheart is so bad at acting casual it’s actually painful to watch. He wants to know why they all brought THEIR weapons while hiding his own behind his back. As if they in any way failed to miss him standing there with it in full view for the last thirty seconds.

I can’t with this guy. He's just so bad at being bad I almost feel sorry for him.

(Although, as we in the U.S. have certainly discovered the last two years, the incompetent ones are often the most dangerous…)

As said, the fight has already begun. While Qrow and Lionheart trade subtext Yang checks out their perimeter, immediately picking up on the raven that just happens to be chilling on the banister. A simple, whispered “Mom?” and Qrow has his weapon out and a shot off, barely missing Raven as she swoops down beside Lionheart.

Can we appreciate that reaction time for a second? I feel like between Ozpin’s Super Secret Magic and Qrow’s self-deprecating drinking the fandom tends to forget that he’s easily one of the most powerful fighters we’ve seen to date. He demonstrated that in his playful spar against Winter, keeping Tyrian on his toes while also ensuring that the kids were safe, and here as he responds blindingly fast to a one syllable word. A few seconds later Raven calls him out for missing or, just as likely, deliberately missing since he doesn't want to kill her—yet. Which makes it all the more impressive that he can aim and achieve the results he wants in such a short amount of time. You 100% do not want to fuck with Qrow.

A nice cut using Lionheart’s back and Raven becomes human once more. In the realm of ‘artists paying careful attention to how their background characters act,’ Oscar is uncomfortable but isn’t even looking at the threat—almost like he’s listening carefully to something the rest of them can’t hear—while Nora looks downright floored. “They really are magic,” she says to herself, solidifying with evidence what they'd been told a few episodes back.

Okay. Rant time. I still don’t buy these reactions. Really not great on the world building front here. I mean, we’ve had Pyrrha who controls magnetism, Ren who manipulates emotions, Yang has a Hulk mode that includes changing eye color, Blake can create clones of herself, Weiss is basically a necromancer, Ruby turns into rose petals, give him an episode and Jaune will straight up heal a girl, and Nora herself can store/release electricity. Why is turning into a bird so incredibly shocking? It would feel way more natural if they saw Raven and Qrow’s transformations and went, “Okay… so that’s their semblance?” and then Oz has to explain about the difference—being born with an ability vs. being granted it—which is cool and there’s surprise that that’s a Thing, but their reaction to the ability itself is still pretty meh. Because they’ve literally seen weirder.

We’re given no indication as to WHY a bird transformation instinctually reads as more impossible than transforming into rose petals, other than “one is magic and one is not because we say so.” There’s no justification behind the characters’ ability to recognize magic when they see it, especially given the incredibly wide range of abilities RWBY has shown us over the years. Either attach more overt rules to semblances (obvious boundaries where the viewer understands what is and is not possible) or make Ozpin’s magic look radically different. In this world summoning storms and turning into birds doesn't read as radically different. Hell, in many ways Dust, an incredibly common commodity, is more powerful than this supposedly gasp-worthy magic. Why be impressed with Raven summoning rain clouds when Weiss can create powerful winds in her fight against Flynt with just a bit of Daddy’s money?

But anyway. I digress.

The verbal sparring continues. Oscar still isn’t making eye contact. Raven spouts more of her excuses, Salem can’t possibly be stopped, we're all out for ourselves, blah blah blah. Ruby emphasizes that they’ve already done the impossible, but they only achieved that because they were working together. Separation and a pessimistic attitude is exactly what Salem wants. Ruby wants Raven to join them.

And take a gander at that contrast between sisters. As I’ve said before, Ruby is the classic full-of-heart protagonist who believes that almost everyone can be redeemed. As we’ll see in a second, the exemption to this appears to be Cinder. Her murder of Penny and Pyrrha highlights her irredeemability in a way that overshadows Raven’s—and even Salem’s—more nebulous crimes. The bigger your actions are the harder they are to conceptualize. The smaller and more personal they are the harder they are to forgive. Paradoxically, it’s easier for someone like Ruby (and the fandom…) to shrug off Raven’s actions because as of yet she hasn't felt their repercussions as intimately.

Yang though? She has. And in this moment she’s not ready to forgive.

Raven refuses of course and tells Ruby she sounds just like her mother. (Give us flashbacks of Summer!) She summons a portal where a fireball flies through, hitting Ruby square in the chest and allowing the whole evil gang to join the party. We get a closeup on Oscar as he and Oz recognize Hazel, locking them inside while the White Fang sets up their bombs.

Hazel: “No one’s getting in… and no one’s getting out.”

Because RWBY, for all its dark storylines, is still hella cheesy at times lol.

Weiss: “So this was all just a trap?”

Ren: “It appears so…”

Ah, naive little children. If only you were watching from our fourth wall perspective you would have realized it was a trap more than an episode ago! Too bad.

We learn that Lionheart was the one who secured Team Bad a place in the Vytal festival. Not only that, but he’s been passing information about huntsmen and huntress whereabouts to Salem. That’s how they were all murdered and Qrow’s realization of this—after spending all that time looking for them and hoping against hope—is definitely a kicker. “I couldn’t find any of them… because you let her kill them.”

Keep in mind, most of those people were Qrow’s friends.

Jaune, as we’d expect, is at his breaking point. Pyrrha’s murderer is standing right there and, as he says, rubbing their faces in how many people she’s killed—“All with that damn smile on your face!” We’ve had all of two instances of RWBY cursing and it’s definitely needed here. I appreciate that his tears and his anger are basically a call to arms. Most everyone draws their weapon as soon as he's finished speaking. Qrow’s still trying to keep the peace, but Jaune’s very existence is a walking testament to exactly how much these people deserve to be brought to justice.

He yells that he’s going to make Cinder pay for what she did and then comes the most brutal line in all of RWBY.

Cinder: “Who are you again?”

Damn. They’re never gonna top that.

Perfect characterization though. As the audience it’s easy to forget who knows who in a big ensemble cast and, more importantly, who cares about who. From Cinder’s perspective Jaune is a nobody she's barely met. Why would she remember him? If she’d instead made a taunt about his dead girlfriend most of us probably would have just shrugged off the plot-hole, but paying attention to details like this is not only, a) satisfying but b) wonderfully vicious. Way to twist the knife here.

Jaune attacks as we knew he would but Cinder easily blocks him. Ruby joins the fray only to be stopped by Emerald—“You’re not getting near her.” (Love the devotion.) Yang pairs off with Mercury to settle an old score. Raven orders Vernal to take out “the heiress” (rude, she has a name) and in another excellent nod to the switcheroo that tricked both the team and a large chunk of the fandom, she casually throws out that Vernal doesn’t need to use her power to kill a kid.

Good excuse too. Considering, you know, she doesn’t have any.

No more fake outs. Qrow attacks Raven head on with the announcement that they’re not family anymore. Harsh, but deserved. Raven’s “Were we ever?” smells more like denial. We also get a good look at their similar, but differently balanced color schemes.

As their fight takes them out of frame we stay with a rather terrified Weiss. To her credit though she holds her ground against Vernal, assuring her that she’s “more than a name.”

Finally, Ren and Nora—ever the perfect duo—are left to fend off Hazel. He’s one of those real asshole villains who has a “code” that they follow. He doesn’t want to fight two kids half his age and power level… but he has to. Just like he has to keep pursuing his misguided revenge against Ozpin. And he, like Raven, feels the need to announce to the world that this isn’t what he’d prefer. It’s just how things are! Totally out of his hands, I’m sorry to say.

We’re seeing a trend with the villains and their justifications, yeah?

With everyone paired off Ozpin-Oscar (I need a portmanteau for them…) sneaks over to confront Lionheart. Lionheart goes from telling this supposed stranger to get himself out of the fight while he can to attacking him with a rock-lava-energy blast thing in like five seconds flat. Of course, our two favorite BAMFs block it with ease and we get the RWBY equivalent of,

(x)

Holy shit this kid blocked my hit??

Beautiful.

The second the cane comes out though everything makes sense and we get another stellar line of “Not quite” when Lionheart identifies him as Ozpin. I really love that they let Oscar handle the first half of this battle. Yeah, it’s a little flimsy that he’s able to take on an adult after just a few weeks of training, but we also don’t know how much he and Oz are already sharing. Fighting might come naturally to him now in a muscle memory sort of way. Regardless, he kicks ass and I’m loving it.

“You found Qrow,” Lionheart says. “How?” implying that he might have been doing even more work than we saw to keep those two apart. A voiceover from Ozpin wonders what happened to his former ally. The fact that Lionheart knows all the details of Ozpin’s reincarnation tells us that yeah, they were really, really close.

That knowledge is dangerous too. Realizing that Ozpin “couldn’t have had that form for long” Lionheart gets over the debilitating shock of fighting, you know, Ozpin. We hear him rationalizing in the wonderfully creepy manner of the desperate that this is just a boy in front of him, a boy soon to be Ozpin, and if he delivers the kid to Salem he’ll “finally be free" of her. Sounds a lot like Raven thinking that the relic will protect her; a lot like a hurt Tyrian muttering that she’ll forgive him.

RWBY does a good job of reminding us in small ways how utterly terrifying Salem is...and what that fear drives people to do.

This would be the (supposedly) perfect moment for Ozpin to take over. Oh no! Lionheart is all serious now! Oscar is worried! But the only thing Ozpin does is tell him to “fight.” I’ve heard a lot of people in the fandom claim that Ozpin is a monster for his possession, culpable for something that’s outside of his control. But Ozpin has no desire to take over people’s lives like this and—unlike Hazel or Raven—it really is out of his hands, to say nothing of the fact that he does all he can to actually achieve what he thinks is right. He can’t keep himself from merging with Oscar, but he can give Oscar as much agency as humanly possible, including here. The only times we see Ozpin take that agency away is when it really is for the greater good (they can’t afford to hide on a farm forever) or when Oscar is well and truly in over his head, like after the fight with Hazel goes on too long. Taking over Oscar at that point is to save his life, akin to forcing someone out of the way of a blast.

But we’ll get to that.

We come back to the fight between Weiss and Vernal as Weiss tries to buy herself enough time to summon her knight. Vernal easily cuts through her summoning though… which is kind of a relief? In that RWBY (usually) knows when to limit new powers. If Weiss had no real limitations on her summoning—the time it takes, the energy it requires—we’d be wondering why she didn’t just summon a whole, super-powered army every time they were in a spot of trouble. Too many shows (Supernatural...) craft crazy powerful characters and then conveniently forget about that power when it would too easily solve a conflict.

Also, check out that smile from Vernal.

We segue to Cinder and Jaune. Kudos to Jaune for holding his own one-on-one! He really is Pyrrha’s student. Remember what other kid managed to hold her own against a freaking Maiden, at least for a time?

Emerald won’t let Ruby get anywhere near Cinder. She “owes her everything" after all. But she’s willing to indulge her (so to speak) and summons up a mirage of Cinder to fly at Ruby. That and the resulting attack startles her enough that she sets off Crescent Rose, the bullet narrowly missing Weiss.

…Portent of things to come.

Because we’re back on Weiss and it's becoming clear to the viewer why we’ve been focusing so much on her in this battle. A shock from Vernal’s weapon rips out a scream from her, draws Jaune’s attention, and Cinder cruelly asks if he’ll “let her die too.”

Gotta have the fake-out first though. Deciding to take him seriously, Cinder charges with intent to kill and the head-on strike triggers Ruby into remembering Pyrrha’s death. Her silver eyes instinctually go off, blinding everyone and halting the battle.

Emerald knocks her out fast but even those few seconds was enough to effect Cinder. Apparently once you’re struck by that kind of power your body remembers it. She’s down on her knees, clearly in pain, and Jaune takes the opportunity to get a strike in, managing to clip the half-mask she wears.

And yeah. Cinder’s pissed.

Partly from getting caught in one of Ruby’s blasts again. Partly because a “nobody” like Jaune managed to hit her. Awful when that power you sought isn’t as perfect as you were promised, huh? Jaune makes the mistake though of declaring that he’s not important, only his friends are… and Cinder knows exactly how to make one of the good guys suffer.

Why just kill him when you can instead kill the girl he was worried about moments before? Why grant him peace when you can vividly recreate the trauma of Pyrrha’s death instead?

We have just enough time left in the episode to see the team’s shocked faces, watch Cinder’s weapon disappear, and then we cut with Weiss in mid-fall.

It’s a brutal combo of content and editing. Thanks, Rooster Teeth! I hate it!

We all know how things turn out though… so that's some kind of comfort. Until next time!

Other Details of Note

When everyone enters Haven tower we see this statue… and honestly I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. Something something it’s a maiden guarding a Maiden relic. Something something broken chains and freedom. Something something Atlas-esque imagery of holding up a world…you get the idea. It’s symbolic.

Cinder calls Qrow “little bird” and Lionheart “lion.” Always something wonderfully creepy about villains with a penchant for nicknames.

When Jaune first charges Cinder we pull back behind the chain on the statue and see it sway from the force of his attack. It’s quick and subtle, but an excellent visual detail to show us how strong he’s gotten. Pre-Fall of Beacon Jaune never would have managed that kind of force.

For all its faults in places, I enjoy how much this fight makes use of space, especially when it comes to Weiss using her glyphs. It’s not perfect or as complex as what we might have had with Monty, but I think the team is improving in their choreography overall.

Yes, Jaune is well over his schoolboy crush on Weiss---something I'm pleased about---but it still hits hard to have her as the victim here. Out of every team member Cinder could have targeted she chooses the one other girl Jaune might have had legitimate, romantic feelings for. In an alternate timeline, so to speak.

So the whole “villain walks slowly towards the person they’re gonna kill and everyone who normally has superhuman reflexes doesn’t move an inch” trope is crazy annoying, right? Just putting that out there...

#rwby #mymetas #RWBY Recaps

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

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Far from Home (1/1)

Summary: Gavin finds an unexpected surprise while he’s working a job. A quick and simple in and out affair at some posh gala. Grab the files and make his way out without being caught in the act, and he’ll earn himself a lovely payday.

So of course, of course, things go a little pear-shaped on him.

AO3

Gavin finds an unexpected surprise while he’s working a job. A quick and simple in and out affair at some posh gala. Grab the files and make his way out without being caught in the act, and he’ll earn himself a lovely payday.

So of course, of course, things go a little pear-shaped on him.

The whole night starts off promising.

Gavin in his smart little tuxedo, perfectly coiffed hair, and luxury sports car on loan from his employers to lend credence to his cover persona.

It works, too.

Has the guests who see him drive up in eyeing him with interest and the staff hired to work the gala treating him with a higher modicum of respect. Sets him apart from the stuffy old bastards in their gleaming limos and traditional ways borne of old money.

The gala’s hostess greets him warmly even though there’s not a speck of recognition in her eyes, a woman who trusts such things as guest lists to an assistant. Her only stipulation being that whoever receives an invitation be someone from the right social circle to win her all the power, money, and influence she so rightly deserves.

Gavin smiles at her as though they are old friends, busses her cheek and tells her she’s as beautiful as ever and that the gala itself is breathtaking.

Ice sculptures in the flower gardens and gorgeous water fountains. A string quartet playing in the courtyard and softly blinking lights strung about to lend the whole affair a magical air. Fairy realm crossing into the mortal realm just this one night and its guests the few lucky enough to lay witness to such a grand event.

He dances with several people on his way to the room where the files are kept. A computer isolated from the network the rest of the mansion uses and difficult to access any other way.

Impossible, really, given the level of security put in place to protect it. A fact that’s been proven time and time again as others with Gavin’s talent pool have failed to deliver.

But with so many people wandering the grounds tonight, there’s a chance of success for someone careful enough, skilled enough.

Gavin makes a show of enjoying the gala. Trades small talk with people who seek him out as he works his way ever closer to those files he’s being paid a staggering amount of money to acquire. Flirts with tipsy heirs and heiresses alike. Kisses the hand of a beautiful redhead with cat-eye glasses and thanks her for the dance after she’d caught his hand and pulled him out to the dance floor when he as he tries to walk past.

Gleam in her eye and a challenge in her smile, and how could Gavin ever refuse such a beautiful woman’s simple request?

Especially when it gets him closer to that darkened staircase leading up to the second floor. A laugh and a stumble and some poor, unwitting model's drink spilled down his front and a member of the waitstaff who tells him there’s a bathroom he can use to clean up.

Nice and simple and going perfectly until it doesn’t.

Until Gavin’s curiosity gets the better of him as he counts doors against the memorized blueprints in his head. One, two, three, and his lock picks get him inside the right room with startling ease.

Its the work of minutes to get the files he needs, and a little more effort wins him the bonus he was promised if he could get those as well. Hidden behind encryptions and eating up precious time that might cost him everything if he wasn’t skilled enough, careful enough.

It’s on his way out that he spies the fourth door in that long, dark hallway and the lock recently added to it.

Glaringly out of place with the Baroque styling the rest of the mansion favors with its flat gray metal and ugly about it.

There’s a countdown in the back of Gavin's mind tucked in beside the mansion’s blueprints and other bits of information he’d felt vital for this job, and it’s running down.

Security patrols and camera sweeps and there’s no time to indulge in curiosity, except -

Why?

Why put in a lock like that up here? Why does it look as though it was installed hastily, wood around it scratched and scraped and wounded looking. Why can’t he leave it alone as he moves closer to examine it, lock picks back in his hands before he realizes it and an open door in front of him.

“Bloody hell,” Gavin murmurs, once he’s inside because he has his answer.

There’s a figure slumped in a chair, hair lank and dirty hanging over their face and tired slant to their shoulders.

Tired, not defeated, he notes. Waiting, perhaps, for the right opportunity to come along, and it’s possible tonight it may be Gavin himself.

At the sound of his voice, the figure lifts their head and if Gavin was the sort given to such fancies, he’d say it was a look that would kill, if it could.

Full of cold menace and simmering resentment, anger, and the promise of violence once they’re free from their binds.

Feral, Gavin thinks, remembering the strays he’s run across in this godforsaken city in the past.

The figure’s gagged, lowest of low-tech with duct tape that looks days old and the skin around it torn and bloody, bruises dark on their – his – face. Face puffy and swollen from the beating(s) they’ve endured since he landed himself here who knows how long ago.

He looks a sight, and once he realizes Gavin isn’t one of the people who chained him up in this makeshift cell, a calculating light enters his eyes.

The USB drive is a heavy weight in the hidden pocket of Gavin’s jacket, hidden away where it will go unnoticed if security decides he should be frisked at any point along the way.

And still -

Gavin sighs, because the man is still watching him (what else would he be doing?) and that countdown hasn't stopped.

Soon, though.

“Alright then,” Gavin says, and sets to work because there’s a small window growing ever smaller and work to be done still.

The man’s eyes narrow when he sees the knife in Gavin’s hands, and Gavin pauses because it’s the polite thing to do.

“This will go better if you hold still,” he says, and when he seems to understand, Gavin moves closer.

The ropes are rough things, most likely pulled from the sheds and grounds that have bitten into the man’s skin where he’s tried to free himself.

Broken skin and dried blood, and when Gavin cuts them loose he finds zip ties underneath.

Thick, heavy plastic. Military grade, and they’ve been broken. Sawed through so they’re simply ugly bracelets pulled too-tight around the man’s wrists.

Gavin only has a moment to take it all in before the man surges to his feet, sudden movement unexpected as he turns and bears Gavin to the ground. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated from however many hours he’s been tied to that chair, but the unexpectedness is just enough.

Enough for him to pin Gavin, use his weight against him, forearm against Gavin’s throat as he hovers over him, eyes locked with Gavin’s.

It’s the fact that he stops there, doesn’t make a move past immobilizing Gavin that has Gavin hesitate, knife still held tightly in his outstretched hand, arm held in place by the man’s knee through design or happy coincidence Gavin isn’t certain.

“Rude of you,” Gavin wheezes, when the man presses down, just enough to serve as a warning. “Not my fault you bollocksed things up to get caught like this.”

A mistake on his part, perhaps, but it has the man eyeing him thoughtfully.

“Security patrol will be through this wing in less than five minutes,” Gavin says, time ticking down second by second by second. “If you don’t want to end up back in that chair you should let me up.”

The man cocks his head. Presses down hard before easing up, something dark sliding through his eyes as the corner of his mouth pulls up into a twisted smirk, silent, and why would I do that? clear in every line of him.

“Because you idiot,” Gavin manages, coughs when he gets another painful warning. “You’re not going to get out of here without my help.”

Not tonight anyway, and certainly not alive with the shape the man’s in.

For a long moment Gavin thinks the man’s going to get them both caught, killed, but he snorts.

Climbs off Gavin and plucks the knife out of his hand as he stands up, moves a few steps back to allow him to get to his feet, cautious, slow, in case the man’s a complete lunatic.

Which he very clearly is as he reaches up and pulls the duct tape free, furrow between his eyes the only sign of discomfort as it comes away from his face.

“God’s sake,” Gavin mutters, certain he’s made a terrible mistake as the lunatic gestures to the door with the knife as he lets the tape fall from his hand.

“After you,” he says, a dry croak that only adds to the unhinged maniac image he seem intent on cultivating.

Gavin sidesteps him, makes sure to keep out of arm’s length as he does. (Arm plus knife, unless the man happens to know how to throw one, in which case - )

They slip past the security patrol with seconds to spare. Holding their breaths until the pair decked out in heavy armor and carrying weapons better fit for a war zone rather than a posh mansion in the hills above Los Santos passes them by.

Things only get harder from there. Security cameras, criss-crossing security guard patrols and gala staff that bleed into gala guests.

“Hard to explain your ensemble,” Gavin murmurs, when the man shoots him a look as Gavin puts a hand on his chest to press him back into an alcove as a member of the kitchen staff hurries past. “It’s a black tie affair.”

The lunatic growls, and Gavin pulls his hand away when he realizes he can feel rather than hear it, and that’s an odd thing to think.

“Just a bit longer,” he says, which isn’t quite a lie, just -

Something to say, really, and then they’re treading through narrow service corridors to avoid being seen. Ducking back behind storage crates and wheeled carts, and a baker’s cooling rack pushed up against a wall when they almost bump into someone coming back from their smoke break.

“I wouldn’t,” Gavin hisses, when the staff member stops a few feet away patting themselves down like they’ve forgotten something.

They’re so close to the servant’s entrance. Tucked behind the mansion and a good spot to make their exit where he can either circle around and go the valet service station to retrieve his car from them and drive through the main gates, or take advantage of a slight (very slight) gap in security. Jut enough to allow Gavin the chance to hop the walls around the grounds and make it to the secondary vehicle he procured as part of a contingency plan.

The lunatic turns his head ever so slowly to look at Gavin, and perhaps if Gavin hadn’t happened upon him all trussed up the way he’d been, it would carry more weight with him.

As it is -

“Look,” Gavin says, jerking his chin to where the poor woman makes a noise of triumph as she pulls something out of one of her pocket and continues on her way. “No need to do anything that might draw unnecessary attention. Bit of patience, that’s all.”

And luck, he thinks, but doesn’t say because that’s key as well, but wouldn’t exactly bolster his point.

The lunatic snorts, amusement to it.

“This time, sure.”

No guarantee it would have worked the next time or the one after that, and honestly it’s part of what makes Gavin’s line of work so appealing to him. That added bit of risk that can make or break him and oh, how lucky he’s been up until now.

“Fair play,” he says, and when he’s sure the way is clear makes his way to the servant’s entrance with the lunatic close on his heels.

For someone as big as he is, he manages to move quietly, quickly. No unnecessary noise as he follows Gavin’s lead.

And even that feels less like he’s content to do so as much as he’s watching Gavin, taking his measure and it’s damned unnerving, isn’t it. Has Gavin regretting losing his knife to the man, worried it might end up in his back before things are said and done.

Once they’re outside things turn a less certain. Gavin tapping his fingers against his leg as they find a convenient patch of shadows to take cover.

“We have two choices,” he says, aims for a cheery, pleasant tone of voice. “There’s a car hidden along the service road half a mile to the west.”

The lunatic cocks his head, waiting for the second option.

“Or I can get my car back from the valet service.”

The tricky part here is that in doing so, he’ll have to leave the damn lunatic here to accomplish that bit and swing back around to pick him up, and -

“Okay.”

- Gavin doubts the man would be so trusting after knowing each other for so short a time.

Gavin blinks, not sure he’s heard right, and when he looks up at the lunatic, the man is smiling slightly.

“The way I see it,” he says. “Is that you wouldn’t have bothered getting me this far if you were going to fuck me over at the last minute.”

His smile goes sharp, dangerous as he leans in and Gavin presses himself against the wall at his back.

“And if you do try to fuck me over, I stand a better chance of getting out of here to get my revenge for that another day. Win-win either way.”

That’s a rather pragmatic way to look at things, honestly.

“True,” Gavin says, and stares at the man.

Bright blue eyes and there’s something about the smirk on his face that Gavin can’t quite look way from and really, really, now is not the time for this.

“Valet service, then?”

“Valet service.”

Gavin nods, and moves to slip past the lunatic only to be brought up short when the lunatic grabs him by the arm.

“I’ll find you,” he says, and it sounds like a promise rather than a threat as he watches the guards at the end of the driveway and Gavin keeps his eyes on the valets chatting to each other just a few yards away. “If you fuck me over, I’ll find you.”

“Sounds lovely,” Gavin says, and pries his fingers off his arm one by one and continues on his way, rolling his shoulders to settle his tuxedo jacket and running a hand through his hair to make himself presentable.

There are a few guests loitering nearby, tipsy and giddy with it as they regale each other with their recent exploits and oblivious to anything else around them.

He angles his approach and hops a small hedge to make it appear as though he’s come from the gala and hasn’t at all been up to anything illegal. Smiles just so at the valet and hands over the ticket stub they’d give him and makes small talk with the valet left behind while his partner brings Gavin’s car around.

Bright young man, a bit on the shorter side of things with a shaved head (recent change, if the way he keeps running a hand over his head and the momentary look of oh, right, I did that, didn’t I? crosses his face is any indication) and an accent that hints at east coast roots.

Quick with a joke and sharp eyes that has Gavin taking care with what he says. Something about the valet is just so very slightly off in a way Gavin can’t quite pinpoint, but his mind is on other things and the mystery of the odd valet can wait for another time.

Eventually his partner pulls up with Gavin’s borrowed car and greets him with a smile as he holds the door for Gavin.

Tall and slender, and there's something ever so slightly off with him as well.

Maybe it’s something to do with the quicksilver speed he talks and whiplash fast changes in direction that serve as verbal bait and switch. Look here, not there, and oh, oh, ever so sorry. Was he talking too fast? He does that sometimes, you see. Old habits and a warm chuckle as he wishes him a good night and to please drive safe, and Gavin is so very, very glad he won’t be running into either of them again anytime soon.

(Preferably never, really. Safer that way and all in a city like this.)

It occurs to Gavin as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb that he could leave the lunatic here, leave him in that shadowed spot he’s hidden in and go on his way. Hand over the USB drive and complete his job easy as you please, but -

It’s not fear, that has him doubling back to turn onto the service driveway once he’s out of view of the mansion and anyone there, no.

Just that damnable curiosity and niggling bit of conscience that wouldn’t let him leave an injured man in the hands of the kind of woman involved in the kind of sordid dealings she is. Things even Gavin hadn’t known about until he got his stick little fingers all over the files he was sent to procure and realized that it didn’t matter so much why the lunatic was there at all as much as getting him away form there did.

(That thought always in the back of his mind that it could be him in that situation in the future, because luck is a key factor in Gavin’s line of work and he knows it will run out on him one day.)

Gavin looks over when the passenger side door opens and the lunatic gingerly eases himself into the seat beside him.

“Seat belt,” he reminds him, because the drivers in Los Santos are mental, and he’d prefer the poor bastard not gain any new injuries in this stage of their escape.

He gets a long look for that, and then an amused huff of a laugh as the lunatic clicks it into place.

“Happy now?”

Gavin hums, gaze sliding toward him as he puts the car back into gear and drives them away from the mansion.

“I’d hate for my insurance premiums to go up, you understand.”

The lunatic laughs, and it’s not a completely unpleasant sound.

“Yeah,” he says, relaxing against his seat as Gavin puts shifts gears. “That would be the worst, wouldn’t it.”

=========

Gavin takes the lunatic to a safe house he knows about that happens to belong to a former employer who won’t need it anymore. The police haven’t yet found it, and it’s paid for six months out still, and Gavin never did get around to returning the key to place before things had gone to shit for the bastard.

No one who matters knows about it, and Gavin has no qualms about giving its location away to keep his own home a secret.

“Nice place,” the lunatic says, taking in the sparse décor and thin layer of dust on everything. “You like the minimalist look?”

The lunatic claims that he looks worse off than he actually is and all he needs to sort himself out is a shower and change of clothes, but Gavin's concern over his welfare is truly touching.

Gavin grabs a change of clothes from the bedroom and shoves them at the man, who seems to have settled on being annoyingly amused at Gavin.

“There should be clean towels in the bathroom,” he says, and ignores the quiet chuckle it earns him as he head back to the living room.

Gavin keeps an ear out, and waits until he hears the water running before he allows himself the luxury of relaxing, accepting that he was successful tonight and they’re as safe as they’re likely to be in Los Santos.

A quick phone call to his employer and he has a date and time set up to hand the USB drive over and the promise of money being deposited into one of his accounts upon receipt.

He’s not quite sure he trusts his employers, but they’re not the sort of people he can afford to refuse. Powerful enough to provide him with the information he’d needed to be successful tonight, and connections everywhere.

Enough of a presence in Los Santos to have Gavin’s contacts warn him to be careful if he chose to work with them, that things happened to people who told them no, who crossed them or got a little too ambitious while working for them.

The lunatic’s still in the shower, and Gavin has no clue what he’s meant to do next, really, but he does have petty cash his employers allotted him for this job. A couple hundred dollars and more than enough to get the lunatic wherever he needs to go after this.

Pay for a cab to get him home or wherever else he needs to go and a little extra and it’s an odd choice on Gavin’s part but then again, this whole night has been odd. Better to leave things on a positive note and avoid making an enemy he’d rather not have.

It’s easy, really, sneaking out while he’s still in the shower. Place the money under a paperweight on the kitchen counter and out the door and it’s late enough that no one notices when he leaves, no good reason to be there any longer, after all.

========

Several days later and Gavin has regrets.

So, so many because he’s an idiot and should have listened when Alfredo told him he was making a mistake taking this job. That perhaps the stakes were higher than he thought and now -

“You know too much,” his employer – former employer? - is saying, and it sounds like he regrets that things have come to this, but the man is a talented actor.

Fooled Gavin into thinking he was someone who might not turn out to be a back-stabbing bastard, might be someone who didn't indulge in petty games.

“I’d rather we not do this, if it’s all the same to you,” Gavin interrupts, in no mood to deal with the man’s ego and sense of drama. Would rather get things over with than listen to all the reasons why Gavin’s death is inevitable and on and on and on. “I find this all boring.”

Cliche, really.

Like something out of a bad Vinewood thriller and it’s honestly insulting.

“What?”

Gavin doesn’t sigh, no, because his former employer is circling the chair Gavin’s tied to like a terrible villain in a spy movie gloating about his victory.

Single chair under a spotlight in an abandoned warehouse and Gavin always did have a bad feeling about the meeting place. Thought it was the kind of place where things like this happened, and he should have listened to his instincts. Should have done something different to keep from ending up here, but he didn’t, did he.

Gavin’s former employer’s head comes up as the sound of breaking glass reaches them from somewhere beyond the circle of light they’re under.

“Check it out,” he barks, and the goon who’d accompanied him grunts in acknowledgment before presumably heading off to do as he’d been ordered.

“It’s probably just a stray,” Gavin’s former employer says, more like he’s trying to convince himself it’s true than any real belief. “Little fuckers get in here all the time.”

Gavin watches the man as he paces, nervous under everything. All too aware he’s playing a dangerous game having gotten his hands on the kind of files he has, going after the kind of people he is no matter how powerful his own operations are.

He babbles, tells Gavin how stupid he was for falling for his little ploy. For ever thinking he could hope to pull off this kind of job and expect to be dealt with fairly afterward. That things like that happened in Los Santos.

Gavin listens with half an ear, knows the basic themes by heart because he’s not wrong about any of it because Los Santos is a rotten bitch of a city. Homes to back-stabbing bastards like this one, the dirty and desperate and depraved.

Footsteps headed back their way, steady and confident and Gavin sits up a little straighter. Cocks his head because -

He notices details, Gavin does.

The gait is all wrong. No nearly undetectable limp, slight hesitation before the second foot lands. No faint jingle of the keys clipped the goons belt. Heavy key-ring weighed down by keys of all shapes and sizes and a lucky rabbit’s foot that’s been dyed blood red.

Gavin’s former employer doesn’t seem to notice, turning to speak to him and stiffens as he realizes that's not his goon at all.

It’s a tall figure in a leather jacket, ominous black skull mask and known in Los Santos.

Feared, and for good reason, given his reputation. The stories and rumors left behind in his wake wherever he goes.

“You - “

A gunshot rings out, and Gavin’s former employer drops like a puppet with its strings cut, bloody hole in his head and oh, Gavin thinks, oh.

“This seems familiar,” the Vagabond says, amusement in his voice as he steps further into the light and looks at Gavin.

Gavin stares up at him, laughter caught in his throat because -

“You,” he says, and the laughter breaks free because of course the lunatic is the Vagabond is the lunatic, of course.

The Vagabond laughs, and the amusement's still there as he goes to cut Gavin free from the ropes binding him.

Gavin rubs his wrists, sore and aching, skin reddened where the ropes dug in, as he eyes the Vagabond.

“Now what?” he asks, and as grateful as he is for the Vagabond's intervention, he’s understandably wary. “Not that I’m not grateful, but you understand, I hope.”

The Vagabond cocks his head, as though he isn’t quite sure what to make of Gavin.

“My boss,” he says, slow, halting. “He’s interested in those files you stole.”

Gavin’s eyes narrow.

The USB drive is still clutched in the hand of Gavin’s former employer, but there’s a little surprise packed in with the files that will wipe it clean if anyone enters the wrong password one time too many.

Gavin’s an idiot, it’s true, but he’s not completely stupid.

“Is he now,” he says, wondering if all that’s happened here is Gavin going from one bad situation to another and no choice in the matter.

The Vagabond sighs, reaching up to pull the mask off. Looks at Gavin, and his face is a motley array of bruises and scattered cuts.

“He sent me to get them,” he says, “but I fucked up.”

Gavin never expected to hear an admission of failure from the Vagabond, although to be fair he never expected to be in the man’s presence either, so -

“You ruined their rescue mission, by the way,” he says, and there’s a rueful twist to his mouth as he looks at Gavin. “They put a lot of work and resources into the whole thing. Touching, honestly.”

Gavin doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps his silence. Watches the Vagabond watching him and wonders how his life has come to this, what series of events have lead him to this place and time.

“You met some of them, I think.” The Vagabond says, and oh, the bastard is enjoying this. “Lindsay says you’re an amazing dancer – light on your feet, I believe she said – and Jack apologizes for ruining your shirt.”

He goes on to name other people Gavin had interacted with that night, the waitstaff with the mop of curls who’d pointed the way to the bathroom on the upper floor and the valets.

They’d been the ones to recognize him when he arrived at the gala, Gavin having made something of a name for himself in Los Santos. Tipped the others off, let them know to keep an eye on him and when they realized he’d freed the Vagabond let things play out to see what he would do.

“Should I have left you there, then?” Gavin asks, feeling exhausted because apparently there was no need for his act of kindness that night, no reason for it at all.

He feels a fool, and it grates.

Still, he needs to move carefully here, doesn’t he.

The Vagabond moves closer, and Gavin is so, so aware of the disadvantage he's at here. The way the Vagabond looms without meaning to.

“That’s the thing. You had no reason to help me, but you did anyway. Risked the job you were hired for to do it,” he says, and pauses. “You didn't fuck me over even when you had the perfect opportunity.”

Why, Gavin knows, but there’s no easy answer here.

Not really.

“Yes, well,” Gavin says, and shrugs. “I’ve been told I’m something of an idiot.”

By Alfredo, mostly, but Dan’s said the same in the past. And Meg, bless her soul, she lives in the eternal hope she can break him of the habit one day despite the fact so many others have tried.

Good friends to have in this business, this life, but some things can’t be undone.

“That’s it?” the Vagabond asks, and the man sounds confused. Like he thinks Gavin’s hiding something from him, that there has to be some deeper reason Gavin had helped him that night. “Really?”

Gavin smiles up at him.

“Were you expecting a different answer?” Gavin asks, honestly curious.

The Vagabond regards him silently for a long moment, and Gavin looks his fill because he’s still human and the man is not unattractive. Not the worst sight he expected to see before he died, because surely that’s what this is.

Try the soft approach and when that doesn’t work, well, Los Santos is full of people like Gavin, isn’t it. Thieves and hackers and give them enough money and they’ll steal just about anything for you.

Wouldn’t be long before they found someone willing to make a second attempt at stealing the files. Until someone succeeded..

“No,” the Vagabond says, and he laughs as he puts the mask back on.

Gavin swallows, wonders -

“Catch.”

Gavin blinks, hand coming up to catch the phone the Vagabond throws to him. An archaic flip phone, shiny and new.

“We could use someone with your skills. If you’re interested, use speed dial one. If not, do whatever you want with the damn thing.”

Gavin doubts it’s as easy as that, not after telling him his boss wants the files Gavin had stolen, but he leaves the USB drive where it is as he turns to leave - pauses.

“Thank you,” the Vagabond says, and clears his throat as he looks away. “I appreciate what you did.”

Gavin bites back a laugh, eyes going to his would-be murderer's body and back to the Vagabond who looks oddly hesitant. Uncertain.

“I’d say that makes us even, wouldn’t you?” he asks, and maybe things like that shouldn’t work like that, keeping score of that kind of thing, but it’s something to build on.

The Vagabond laughs and inclines his head in acknowledgment, and then he's gone, leaving Gavin alone with his thoughts and a choice to be made.

Curiosity is a failing of his, and when he opens the phone his eyes are immediately drawn to the background wallpaper someone’s selected. The all too familiar logo of the Fake AH Crew. Silhouette of a green rubber duck in the cross-hairs, and he’s heard promising things about them here and there over the years.

From Alfredo more and more recently, since they’d started courting him, interested in someone of his unique skills and know how, and thinks that things certainly couldn’t be any worse for him than they already are, really, if he were to work for them. (Ignores the thought that there would be an added bonus in getting to see the Vagabond again, because that’s hardly professional of him, but it is a very nice incentive to think about.)

Later, though, because he needs to get out of here before someone comes along to investigate the goings on here. When he’s somewhere safe he can stop to think about the offer the Vagabond made him. Think over the pros and cons and make a choice based on them and hope he isn't wrong when he does.

#freewood #ragehappy #fahc fic #this came out of nowhere #so #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#vagrant fic

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