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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Monster hunt: I Bear Thee Unto Glory

A shambling horse shape composed of battlefield pickings, this demon is a manifestation of slaughter, phyrric victory, and the folly of war. Unto Glory ever seeks more opportunities to spread violence and more fools to lead to their doom, sustaining itself off chaos and fear in between wars where it has the opportunity to gorge. Often seen bearing a rider, the thing which sits astride Unto Glory is more often than not an extension of its being, the worn down wreck of a former victim held aloft like a trophy, holding limply to the reigns and serving only as a distraction in combat. Occasionally it will seek out a new rider to drain dry, favouring those haunted by the toll of war or those who seek violence in the excess of reason.

One of these would be riders was the Compt Duvialt, a would be warmonger who looked greedily upon the lands of his neighbours and heard rumour that any who manage to rein the demon horse would be undefeated in combat. Mustering allies, mercenaries, and a coven of dark mages to his service, the Compt had the beast summoned through blasphamous ritual only to be thrown from the saddle the night the battle was joined. Free of any bonds, the tarnished steed has roamed the lands since, sowing the seeds of conflict the party will inevitably find themselves caught up in.

Adventure Hooks

The party’s first blush with Unto Glory’s influence comes when they stumble across a village terrorized by a series of violent incidents. Apparently some weeks ago a ragged wanderer came into the tavern clutching a rusty sword and looking like he was barely holding on to life. He muttered something about seeing a horse before lashing out at the stunned onlookers, slaying two before several brave bystanders managed to put him down. A tragedy to be sure, but folk thought not much of it until the smith’s apprentice, who’d been sold the sword as scrap, started screaming about the sound of hooves and hacking at his teacher until the traumatized tradeswoman caved in his skull with a hammer. Now the sword sits locked behind the smithy doors and the people await a priest they’ve called to DO something about it. Do the party pretend they’re the ones that were sent? Wait for the authorities to arrive? Or lay their hands on an obviously cursed object because it might be valuable?

Any who frequent the tourney circuit could tell you of Lady Ruin, the daughter and heir of Duke Marsette who dominates the jousting lists wearing rusted armour to dishonour the showy expenditure of her rivals. What they couldn’t tell you is that Lady Endellise, despite being raised for years to be an exemplary rider and cavalry commander is infact terrified of death and violence, after nearly being killed in a pitch battle during an attempt by one of her family’s rivals to oust them from their seat. Expected to prove her worthiness as heir by continuing to perform martial pursuits, fearful Endellise unwittingly made a pact with the spectral horse that haunted her since they pulled her from the battlefield, earning for her trouble a dross-fit cuirass that eliminates all her fears when worn. Dreading dishonour and increasingly addicted to the rush she gets when wearing the armour, Endellise risks losing herself to Unto Glory’s influence, becoming increasingly bloodthirsty every time she dons the cuirass

Foiled in war and stripped of many of his lands and titles, the now bitter Baron Duvilat convalesces in a small estate obsessing over riding unto glory once again, spending the dregs of his fortune supporting a few men at arms and paying for any information that might lead him closer to his errant steed, which the party may now possess. Somewhere down the years a few wires were crossed and the baron now also finds himself a fence for of a rotating crews of horse thieves, which the party will ALSO have to trifle with at some point during their hunt.

Further adventures:

Few know of the Duvilat’s dealings with the demonic, as the widespread rumor is that for the sake of his own machisnmo he chose to break a stallion on the eve of declaring war as a symbolic breaking of his enemy… earning a defeat and a broken back in the process. Thinking that he will never mount unto Glory until he can walk again, the baron has had no luck in finding a healer to restore the use of his legs. As getting back into the saddle seems more and more likely, the baron will result to more and more desperate measures, perhaps kidnapping a healer familiar to the party or paying them to seek out the coven he once employed.

Though corroded and thoroughly cursed, the metal that makes up Unto Glory’s hide has the ability to confer any bearer with the battle frenzy of dying warriors, making the demon a walking arsenal for those desperate enough to deal with it. Worse yet, the flakes and splinters of the rusting metal carry the very same curse, infecting victims with bloodlust if they survive the wound. Should the Compt, Lady Endellise, or anyone else manage to ride the beast, they’ll find themselves the figurehead of a force that would see kingdoms laid to waste and possessed of a power to make for themselves an army of fearless berserkers.

#demon #fiend #warfare #haunting #noble #mid level #thief #monster hunt #mystery #Cursed item #Village #town #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e

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heliads · 2 years

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Hellooooo, just wanted to tell you I absolutely love your writing!!! I wanted to know if you still take requests for Eric and if you do if you could do one where reader saves Eric from his death before Four kills him, you can chose the outcome ^^ thank you

thank you!! i absolutely do still take requests for eric, here you go:

masterlist

You don’t like this any more than anyone else. Somewhere out there, Dauntless is still alive, merged with Erudite to make some alternate reality monster that’s far deadlier than anything you ever knew of your old faction. There are people out there dressed in black who are you and yet aren’t, who wear your colors while plotting your demise.

At one point in your life, merely being Dauntless would have been enough to save you. You were the best of the best back then, one of the kids who stuck it out during initiation long enough to swing into a halfway decent job. When you weren’t proving your worth day after day, you were working to make a faction that would be even more bloodthirsty than the day before it.

If there was ever a world in which you were truly safe in Dauntless, though, it’s long gone now. The rats have come out of the woodwork, and all who were traitors and turncoats have revealed themselves en masse. Jeanine Matthews is a cunning warmonger who’s been able to turn a lot of the top Dauntless to her side, and now you are on the other side of a war from the very people you used to call friends.

Despite going throughout your day with the knowledge that you will never be able to get back that which you hold dear, you still don’t regret the choices you made. Although you may not be Divergent yourself, some of your best friends are, and that means you’ll fight on their side until the day you die.

Learning Four was Divergent came as a shock, not to mention Tris as well. You grew close to Four during your own initiation, and are proud to call him a good friend. You can’t count the number of times Four called on you to help out on the latest round of training, and that’s where you met Tris.

Now it’s the three of you on the run, wondering how long you’ll have until your luck falls through and you finally get to know what it’s like to have a bullet through your head. Usually, you’re the one pulling the trigger. At one point in the future, you won’t, and that’s when it will all be over.

For the moment, all you can do is struggle to stay alive, day after day until the feeble hope comes that you might actually make it through this endless war. Things may never be the same, but at least you’ll be there to watch as everyone tries to put the pieces back together again.

If you’re looking for a happy ending, or at least one that isn’t terrible, there’s still something holding you back. See, you’re conveniently leaving out the one worst part of this whole war against the Divergent. That’s the fact that you love somebody on the opposite side, and that person is Eric Coulter.

Eric would never switch sides, and neither would you. You’re both terribly headstrong, so obstinate that you would throw yourself from a cliff rather than admit you’re wrong. That’s why the two of you get together so well, after all; you have never met anyone more like you than Eric. You both think and act the exact same way, barring one all important opinion.

It is this one difference that condemns you to a life without the man you love. You would stick by your friends until the day you die, and Eric will never stop fighting for the glory of the new Dauntless he’s making with Jeanine Matthews until the end of time. You are both sprinting in opposite directions, never to turn around again. Perhaps you will never see him other than in brief snippets as he tries to capture you and your friends, or perhaps you’ll be able to meet one day after this.

In all honesty, the odds of Eric even being able to love you are slim to none. Eric is all principle, all opinion. He believes what he believes to the utmost, and anyone who stands in his way will be pushed aside, no matter who they once were to him. It’s exactly the spirit you taught him, but it is what will spell the end for the two of you.

If you’re in a charitable mood, you’ll allow yourself to think about what it had been like, back then before it occurred to either of you that you might be enemy captains in a fight strong enough to cleave this city in two. You two were unstoppable, you know. No one ever thought that a single thing could separate you, and look at what's happened now.

If you close your eyes, you swear you can picture him still before you. You’d come home late from work sometimes, gently closing the door to your shared apartment with the relief of a soldier returning from no man’s land. Eric would greet you with a smile– a rare sight to anyone who wasn’t you– and you’d be able to sink your evenings into the endless happiness of knowing that you are loved by someone with a fiercer heart than anyone in the entire city.

It’s over now, all of that. The pain, the pleasure, the sheer originality of loving someone like Eric. You haven’t seen him since you ran from Dauntless once the mind control broke over you. It’s funny, isn’t it, that everyone claimed you were one of Dauntless’ best guns and yet they didn’t choose to fill you in on their plan to take over Abnegation? Perhaps they saw your close friendship with Four and Tris and decided that you couldn’t be trusted to happily gun down the home of your friends.

Regardless, they were right to doubt your loyalty. The second you found out what was going on, you immediately ran to save Four and Tris. You’ve been watching their backs ever since, through pitfalls and risks unlike anything you’ve ever known before. Throughout all of that, you haven’t caught one glimpse of Eric Coulter since before everything went down.

That doesn't mean you haven’t tried, though. On the day your small party of rebels had to flee Amity when the enemy Dauntless caught up to you unexpectedly, you had looked for him. You knew Eric was there, he was leading the charge. Of course he would be, as if Eric could do anything but run recklessly into a battle whenever given the chance. He was always braver than you, which is exactly why you didn’t seek him out even knowing that the two of you were in the same location for the first time in far too long.

Still, you had glanced over your shoulder as you sprinted headlong towards any semblance of safety. You could see throngs of Dauntless running after you, but never caught even the smallest glimpse of the one face you wanted to see more than any other. Eric was torn from you yet again, and for some reason the possibility of having been able to see him yet not managing it hurt just as much as being separated from him in the first place.

That’s the truth, then. Despite knowing that Eric is your enemy by now, a fate he likely had no problem in accepting, you can’t seem to convince yourself that you could do anything but love him. Eric is the one who has always made you feel like you could take on the world, and even if he were the one pointing a gun at your head, you would still look at him with a smile. There is nothing you can do about it, and nothing you wish to do about it, for that matter. You will always love him, and that is the simple pleasure of knowing him.

That doesn’t mean that you’re not ready for danger whenever it darkens your path, however. You, Tris, Four, and the remaining Dauntless still on your side have been harbored by the Candor, but no safety can truly last forever when Jeanine Matthews is still gunning for you. It’s a quiet night in the faction of truth, which is as sure a sign as any that something must go wrong.

And go wrong it does, this night of nights. The rival Dauntless show up to Candor’s gates and storm in under the cover of darkness. They round up the people one by one, measuring them for Divergence with some strange device you’ve never seen before. They attempt to take Tris, but you and Four launch a counterattack just in time to save your friend.

Just like that, you’re face to face with Eric again. His men are plainly outnumbered and must surrender. You join Tris in confiscating weapons, but refuse to even look Eric’s way. After all this time of wondering what it would be like to see him again, you finally have Eric right in front of you and you can scarcely bear to be in the same room as him. This is love, then, the exhausting pain and knowledge that only terrible things can follow.

You’re forced to acknowledge Eric soon enough, though. Four is questioning him on why the Dauntless were able to get so far into the Candor compound and what they were searching for, information you would like to know as well. Eric remains silent at first, and Four shoots you a beseeching look. He knows as well as you do that if Eric were unwilling to say a word, he might be goaded into talking were you the one asking the questions instead of his rival.

At last, you sigh and nod once. Four’s expression relaxes with gratitude and he steps back, letting you move forward to continue the interrogation. Eric’s face, which had been so carefully iced out into revealing nothing, flickers with surprise when he sees you at last. You had been sure to remain out of his line of vision until now, so this is his first sight of you as well.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

“Eric,” you say as evenly as you can, “What can you tell us about why you’re here?”

He laughs coldly. “All this time of separation and that’s the first thing you ask?”

“Well,” you respond, “I’m already a traitor in your eyes for choosing Four’s side, so I don’t want to waste either of our time in pretending that anything else matters right now.”

“Would it?” Eric asks, “If you could have a different future, wouldn’t you want it?”

You freeze slightly. You’re not prepared to answer such a question, to face Eric when he’s willing to confront such a dangerous topic. Four senses it and walks back to your side.

“Answer the question, Eric.”

Eric’s face shutters again upon seeing Four once more. “You both know I’m not telling you anything. Yeah, we wanted your girlfriend. Tris is mostly worthless, but not for this reason. Guess you’ll never know why.”

Eric is taunting him, trying to get Four riled up enough to make a mistake. Worst of all, it’s working. You can see Four’s fingers twitching by his sides, and then all of a sudden Four has his gun in his hand. He points the barrel directly at Eric’s head, and even as you react with shock, Eric’s expression stays deliriously calm. In fact, you almost think he’s smiling. This is Eric’s final test of bravery, and he would never back down from such a challenge.

You, however? You cannot bear to lose him. Not now, not ever. Not even if it condemns you to another few weeks or months of being on the run. You move to stand in between the two men, your back to Eric. It may be a mistake, but some part of you has always trusted him to keep you safe, even now.

“Don’t do this, Four,” you say, voice razor-sharp, “It’s not worth it.”

“Actually,” Four argues, “I’d say it’s pretty damn worth it. He’s going to keep trying to kill Tris so long as he stays alive. He’s going to try to kill all of us. Is it worth it, Y/N? Saving someone who just wants you dead? I don’t know about you, but that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Why is that different for you?”

“Because I love him,” you say at last, and you know from Four’s expression that this is the one thing you could have said to convince him, “because if there’s one thing I can’t change, it’s how I feel. You know what it’s like to risk your entire life for someone you love, otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to murder Eric for threatening Tris.”

“He’s not going to feel the same way about you,” Four tries, one last ditch attempt to convince you to let him do this.

You’re not going to accept it, though. “I’ll take that risk,” you smile, words bittersweet, “I always have. I always will.”

“This is what you want, then?” He asks.

“It is,” you confirm, and after one last desolate stare, Four pockets his gun again. He leaves the room with Tris, and the other Dauntless still on your side file out after them. Soon enough, you’re alone with Eric. You still can’t look at him, but Eric must not have the same problem.

His hand rests on your shoulder. “Four’s right,” he murmurs at last, “You should have killed me.”

“I think we both know I could never do that,” you reply, “I was always the one who couldn’t commit to the harsh calls, remember?”

You say it with a bitter laugh, but when Eric speaks again, his voice holds none of that darkness, just light. “It made you better than me.”

You turn around at last and face him. He is just how you remembered him; somehow, even though it hasn’t been all that much time at all, you assumed Eric would be much changed. The divide in mind must match with a divide in body, right?

Yet he is the same, your lover. He still looks at you with the same soft smile that nobody knew except you. Eric extends an arm to you and pulls you close, and just like that, the last of your walls come crashing down.

He speaks against the top of your head. “I’m leaving in the morning, back to Dauntless.”

You nod once. You knew this was coming the second Four put down his gun. There was no way Eric could possibly stay, not here among his enemies. “Promise me you’ll stay alive?”

Eric chuckles. You wouldn’t be the first person to demand such a promise from their fighter, nor the first one to be disappointed. Eric still tries, though. He always did. “I will. I’ll find you after this, alright? We will make it work.”

Somehow, you will. You look up at him one last time and you know that he’s telling the truth. Here in Candor’s halls, Eric is making a promise that he intends to keep. You’ll see him after everything ends, and in that quiet conclusion, the two of you will figure out how to forgive each other. It has already begun.

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria

#eric coulter #eric coulter imagines #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter oneshot #divergent #divergent imagines #divergent x reader #divergent oneshot #divergent eric #divergent eric imagines #divergent eric x reader #divergent eric oneshot #insurgent #allegiant

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justsomeoneunordinary · 3 months

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you know, i really like subversion of trope, thus i find hilarious the thing a saw the fandom do to Haku and Zabuza's relationship in more cracky fics.

I like the thing where between the two Haku is the most dangerous and scary one with maybe with a pinch of Yandere obssession and Zabuza, despite being himself a monster of his own right is just holding the leash and praying that Haku doesn't turn on him while frantically praying to find someone who isn't a bloodthirsty warmonger to take the leach from him in cade he dies.

The thought of Zabuza, who is also known as the Demon of the Bloody Mist, being afraid of little Haku is absolutely hilarious, and I love that idea so much.

But anon, the amount of headcanons you send me is getting a bit out of hand. I appreciate you greatly, but my inbox isn't some kind of headcanon dumpster, and it's really getting a bit too much tbh...

#may answers #anon

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eaudecrow · 2 years

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Can i ask more about your artificer boy??

YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN hold on I’ll dump his ENTIRE backstory under the cut

OKAY SO

Welcome to Eberron, a world in which magic not only exists, but is incredibly common! It’s the 800s and the country of Cyre is embroiled in a bloody war. A brilliant man by the name of Merrick D’Cannith, of House Cannith (famous for their arcane inventions), is trying to create an automaton soldier. He succeeds—metal men are made that do not sleep, breathe, or rest. But they’re lacking the spark of true life—they only follow orders, they do not think for themselves.

Enter his son, Aaren D’Cannith. At the age of 15 this young man is a prodigy and a dreamer, taking after his father with his gift for clockwork creations. Merrick shows him the automaton and Aaren becomes obsessed with finding the key to tethering new souls to these bodies. A couple of years of intense work later, he does it—he creates “Stava,” a childlike robot assistant that he loves like his own.

Unfortunately, their House sees this new creature and only sees its potential for war. They seize Aaren’s blueprints and start mass manufacturing newly dubbed “warforged,” which are exported across continent and wreak bloody havoc as platoons. Aaren is outraged at this. In his eyes, his newly created race—his CHILDREN—is being enslaved for horrific means, and he fights against his House tooth and nail. They… do not appreciate this. The moment he turns 18, he is disowned and banished. He vanishes off the face off the Earth on that day. No investigation nor divination magic can find him, and the world is content to move on with the name “Aaren D’Cannith” known simply as the bloodthirsty warmonger that created monsters.

FAST FORWARD 7 YEARS: The reason no one could find him was because Aaren had built a magic-proofed underground bunker/library, thanks to his newly developed paranoia. (Getting thrown out of your family for defending your kids will do that.) He’s been spending his time trying to free the warforged from their chains and the war that had been fought for much too long. That is, until what’s essentially an arcane nuke gets dropped on the country of Cyre in an event called The Mourning, wiping out or corrupting all life on the surface. Aaren was barely able to duck into his bunker, breathing enough toxic gas to atrophy his arcane knowledge but not to kill him. In an instant, his home is decimated—the surface teems with hostile living spells, toxic fog, and the shells of the creatures that got caught in it. All except the warforged were affected, and the war comes to an abrupt end through catastrophic loss of life.

Meanwhile, Aaren is now trapped in his bunker—he’s too weak from fog poisoning to get himself out, and it screwed with his memories so even his more advanced works no longer make sense to him. If he doesn’t come up with a way to get a scout out, he’ll go crazy from isolation. Luckily (or unluckily) the Lord of Blades, a gargantuan warforged that went rogue and wished to wipe out all organic life, comes across him and agrees to provide Aaren the materials to build an automaton shell his soul can inhabit—a new warforged body. In return, Aaren owes the Lord a debt. And so, Lutka is born—Aaren can astral project his soul into Lutka, and he is able to venture outside of the bombed out remains of Cyre safely, though his original body remains in his bunker.

And that is how the party found him—Lutka, far from Cyre, a strange warforged not built for war with stranger mannerisms like whistling and taking unneeded breaths. With the war over and a treaty hastily signed, warforged were free to do as they wished. Aaren was now trying to regain his lost skills, discover the source of the disaster that struck his country, find out how much of his family survived, and get his own body free from the bunker tomb it was imprisoned in. Later, once his party heads into Cyre again for side quest reasons, the Lord of Blades comes across them and nearly kills them—Lutka barely managed to stop him by claiming they were needed for research, and that he’d work on “putting the power of the Creation Forges in warforged’s hands” within a year. The Creation Forges are (now-defunct) machines originally used to mass manufacture the warforged platoons. The Lord of Blades agreed to this in exchange for their lives, probably thinking he’d get his own warforged army in the future. In reality, Aaren’s going to give warforged the miracle of childbirth :)

ALSO the Lord kinda threatened to “drag Aaren out of that tin can of his” if he didn’t deliver in time, which lit a fire under his butt to get the fuck out. Just recently Lutka found a way to teleport Aaren out of the bunker, after 4 long years of not tasting good food or smelling fresh air or seeing the sun with his own eyes. In Eberron there is an underground casino that allows you to bet anything for anything else—Lutka was able to bet 1/3 his strength for the money to gain access to teleportation circles at a nearby guild of wizards, and another 1/3 in return for the ability to cast “teleportation circle” once. He gathered the party members he trusted the most to meet him, and he’s now sequestered in the Wizard’s Guild instead as he continues adventuring as Lutka!

But yeah the half of the party that Aaren told his secret to were COMPLETELY blindsided, it was great. I’d been dropping hints that something was up for MONTHS, such as the aforementioned human-ish mannerisms. Lutka also “shuts down” periodically to “look things up” that he doesn’t know, which is in reality Aaren returning to his body for a quick library reference. I’ve also dropped slip of the tongue instances such as “this body” and he never refers to the warforged race as “us” or “we.” No one’s guessed the truth, but the ones who were let in on the secret had a huge “you absolute motherfucker THAT’S WHAT YOU WERE DOING” moment at me haha

#aaren d’cannith #lutka #ocs #corvid crows #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d character #d&d oc #battlesmith artificer #eberron #I did my best to make this readable but it’s very rambly haha #freak force

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doodleferp · 3 years

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We Need To Talk

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Allison and Alucard (then Dracula) have a nice picnic...in the daylight. Allison reveals that she has something she wants to talk to him about.

This fic takes place in 1893 where Allison is still human. Alucard is referred to as Dracula since he hasn’t been enslaved by Van Helsing yet. The Brides of Dracula/Weird Sisters are named Florina, Micheala, and Monica after the actresses that played them in Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: minor blood drinking, some minor morality issues, mentions of mental abuse

She didn’t know how she was able to accomplish this. Dracula, the first vampire, known to legend as a monstrous beast and bloodthirsty warmonger, sitting with her in broad daylight in the fields near his castle, partaking in human food with her.

“I was under the impression that sunlight killed vampires,” she said, trying to break the ice after a somewhat-uncomfortable silence. She took a small sip of her tea. “I assume that’s why you’re in a hooded cloak, but…I’m still curious.” She also felt the need to add very quickly, “If you don’t want to be awake right now, we can go inside and you can rest. We don’t have to do this right now.”

The vampire chuckled. “You are considerate as always, my dear,” he said. “Sun does harm vampires. But I…have been around too long. I’ve developed a bit of an immunity to it in my old age. All it does now is make me very, very tired.” He turned up his nose indignantly. “I don’t understand how I managed it when I was human. It’s so bright and yellow and it burns my eyes when I’m tired.” He took note of the increasingly-worried look on her face. “But…” he began to backpedal. “I wanted to see what you looked like during the day. The way your God meant His children to be seen.”

Allison chuckled to herself. “Was it to your liking, King of Vampires?” she asked.

“Immensely,” he sighed. “You look just as beautiful in the sun as you do in the firelight of my castle. Though I will say…I much prefer seeing your body bathed in moonlight. You look so much more…” He pondered, swirling the blood in his glass. “Natural.” He shrugged, smirking to himself. “And, of course, I don’t have to strain my eyes to be able to look at you.”

She laughed. “Vlad, we can go inside. We don’t have to sit out in the sun. Don’t be a martyr just because you think it’ll make me happy.”

“That’s where you misunderstand, dragă mea,” Dracula chuckled. “I would do whatever I could to ensure your happiness.” His expression grew solemn. “But…you did not ask me here just to discuss my vulnerabilities, did you?”

Allison’s face fell, and that’s when he knew. She sighed. “My family has been sending me letters,” she admitted.

Dracula’s voice came out in a low growl, “About your betrothed.”

“They keep asking me to come back to the States,” she continued. “They’ve begun to make plans for the wedding.”

“To your fiancé.”

“Arranged and former fiancé, Vlad,” Allison corrected him.

“And what will you write them back?” Dracula asked, a restrained anger showing through. “You have become seduced by a monster of the night and live with him in his castle, where you are doted on night in, night out by his affections, and waited upon by his servants?”

“I’ve already written them back.” Allison cut him off. With each sentence, her voice grew softer, more subdued. “I’ve told them circumstances have changed. Their most recent letter has told me that they’re coming to Transylvania to meet the fiancé I’ve disgraced them for.”

Dracula was quiet, and Allison went on, “I’ve already told enough lies about us. I didn’t want to tell any more. I told them the truth: that I’ve fallen in love with a count from Transylvania who makes me happier than I’ve ever felt.” She ran her thumb over her engagement ring. “And we’re engaged to be married.” She looked up at him. “I want my family to be involved in this, Vlad. Even if they never know I’m going to become a vampire…I at least want them to know my husband.”

His voice was soft, subdued, as if he didn’t know what to believe. “You would want your family to know of your union to a monster?”

“You are not a monster,” she snapped, the sharpness of her tone surprising him. She took a small breath and collected herself before adding “Not to me.”

A soft breath escaped him. He looked into the red occupying his glass and thought for a moment. “I…I may need to lock the Weird Sisters away for their visit,” he said. “Florina and Michaela are very well behaved, but I can not risk them being influenced by Monica’s behavior.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” Allison reached into the basket and picked two of the grapes from the vine they’d brought. “I...I hate saying that about something that sounds so awful, but it’s the best option. If Monica was left to her own devices, she could…” She paused, swallowing softly. “She’d kill them.”

She felt her shaking arm steady when his free hand took hers. “I know,” he said softly. “But I also know that there is one of them that you wouldn’t mind burying.”

“Vlad.”

“Dragă,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand just a bit. “You only need to ask me to, and I will make sure he can not harm anyone again.”

“He’s my father, Vlad.”

Dracula bared his fangs. “A father should not treat his children like pawns for status. You are you. And he should do well to accept that people have thoughts and feelings.”

Allison’s face fell. She couldn’t help it, but a dark thought came to her mind. “If you had never met me…” she asked, her fingers closing around the grapes she was holding. “Do you think you would have agreed with him?”

He was quiet, but still kept his hold on her hand. “In the past...perhaps I would have,” he said. He set his glass of blood inside the picnic basket and his other hand lay itself on her closed fingers. “But I am not that man anymore.” One of his hands came up to gently open her fingers, revealing the grapes inside her palm. “As long as I can remember, I have been taking what I wanted. But even after I tried to take something from you…” His fingers rolled one of the grapes around her palm. “You gave something to me. I can’t remember the last time something was given to me without having to force it to my possession.”

He picked up the grape he was playing with and held it out to her. “I want to give you something back.”

Allison stared at the grape, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she looked up at him, as if she were trying to stare into his soul. “You’re trying hard to change, Vlad. I know you are.” She reached up and held the side of his face. “I don’t want my father to make you go off the edge. That’s what he does to people. He purposefully eggs them on and uses their snapping as a reason to discredit them.” Her gaze fell to the soft blanket underneath them. “He’ll use whatever he deems negative to turn you into an enemy. I don’t want you to prove him right. For your own sake.”

They sat together in a moment of silence. Then Allison leaned towards his hand and bit down on the grape he was holding. Dracula watched her with surprised eyes. “Why, you little thief,” he laughed, shaking his head at the big smile on her face.

“I was going to eat those first,” Allison insisted.

“And talking with your mouth full. Oh, you rotten child. You were so proper when you first got here.” “You’re always so feral when you drink from the trespassers. Not to mention how often you spook me in the castle halls.” She shrugged, popping the other grape into her mouth. “You made me this way. Accept it, King of Vampires; you’re corrupting me.”

Dracula sighed. “Well, I can only hope I don’t pull you too far down. If nothing else, I would at least like you to remain chaste until our wedding night.”

Allison looked back at him. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?” she asked. “I don’t have anyone else I want to run to.”

Dracula smiled at her. He reached down and took her hand, brushing his lips over her engagement ring. Allison watched him, returning his smile. “Would you like to go back inside?”

“Yes, please,” he responded almost immediately.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “At least consider my proposal.”

Dracula smiled. “I’m just very tired.”

“Alright, then. Let’s head back.” Allison picked up her cup from where she’d set it on the blanket and tried to finish drinking what she’d had left. Dracula, meanwhile, picked up the bottle in the basket and poured the blood back inside. Allison set her cup back in the basket and closed it up before standing up and getting off the blanket. “Do you want me to carry-?” She was cut off by Dracula picking up the blanket and suddenly pulling it off the grass. “Alright.”

Her fiancé smiled an impish smile. Tucking the blanket under his arm, he held his hand out to her. Smiling back at him, she took his hand, threading her fingers between his, and followed him back to the castle.

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laequiem · 3 years

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She kills my self control - Chapter 13

/ Includes dialogue from The Cruel Prince Chapter 29

“Prince Cardan,” Jude says stoically, “This is for you.”

Under normal circumstances, I probably would have caught on to the implication, but I didn't. I fought all my life for the people of Elfhame to look up to me, worship me, fear me, and they finally do. I am the villain in Balekin's story and everyone is waiting to see my next move. This high is greater than any powder ever gave me.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3 • previous chapter • next chapter • all chapters

Balekin gets up from his seat at the head of the table. He raises his glass for a toast and I brace myself. I know this is the signal. Yet, I still yelp as the explosives go off.

Jude immediately gets up. I force myself to stay still, knowing the Roach is aiming at me. Still I flinch when the first bolt lands in front of me—at least I am making it look real.

Before the second bolt can find its way to me, my world tilts and I am on the floor. Not part of the plan.

It is then I see who is standing over me, shielding my body with his own. My oldest brother, my abuser, my only living sibling, the only person who ever cared for me. I am too stunned to do anything, to say anything. Just like this, I am transported back to the stables I used to sleep in, exiled from the palace for a crime I did not commit. A scared, angry princeling whose oldest brother sheltered, saving him from spending more nights sleeping through the grunts of animals and swatting at flies.

When Balekin gets up, I push myself up as well. Taryn is holding the crown and I understand someone mistook her for Jude. With fear written all over her face, I wonder how anyone could make that mistake. Jude would keep her chin up even when faced with the most vicious of monsters.

“Child, if you do not give that to me, I will cut you in half,” Balekin threatens, hand tightening over the pommel of his sword, “I will be the High King, and when I am, I will punish any who inconvenienced me.”

The word punish sends a chill down my spine. Will I be the first punished, for hiding from him? If I crown him, would he spare me?

I can see Taryn looking between my brother and Vivienne. Her hands are tightly gripping the crown, obviously trembling.

“Give me my crown," Balekin growls.

He takes a step towards her, but someone puts a hand to his chest to stop him.

"Wait," Lord Roiben of the Court of Termites orders.

Balekin tries to push Roiben, in vain, and I see The Ghost's crossbow follow his movements, ready to shoot if he tries to hurt the lower Lord. Off to the side, Queen Orlagh is watching. Thankfully, Nicasia seems to have followed my advice and is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s only a mortal girl," Balekin says, as if the excuse would turn any faerie to his side.

Roiben does not budge.

“This is a lovely banquet, Balekin, son of Eldred. But sadly lacking in amusements before now," Queen Orlagh drawls, "Let this be our entertainment. After all, the crown is secure in this room, is it not? And you or your younger brother are the only ones who can wear it. Let the girl choose whom she will give it to. What does it matter, if neither of you will crown the other?"

“This is ridiculous. What of the explosion? Didn’t that entertain you sufficiently?”

"It certainly piqued my interest," Roiben replies, arching a pale brow, "You seem to have lost your general somewhere as well. Your rule hasn’t even formally begun, but it certainly appears chaotic."

Jude walks to her twin and reaches out, but Taryn is holding tight to the crown. I cast a glance towards Locke and I see the familiar glint of amusement in his stare. The same glint I saw when I caught him in bed with Nicasia, when he teased me about Jude. I want to punch it off his face.

When Taryn finally lets go and Jude moves towards Oak and Vivi, I know I am to go to them as well.

“Prince Cardan,” Jude says stoically, “This is for you.”

“Stop!” Balekin shouts, then begins a symphony of blades unsheathing, “Stop them immediately.”

The Ghost shoots and I am afraid he killed my brother. When he calls my name, I turn to him and see that his hand is bolted to the table.

“I know you. I know that you’d prefer I did the difficult work of ruling while you enjoyed the power,” my brother tells me, as if we were the only people in the room, “I know that you despise mortals and ruffians and fools. Come, I have not always danced to your piping, but you haven’t the stomach to truly cross me. Bring me the crown.”

The little speech does not even scratch my stony heart. He knows nothing. He has never known me.

“Bring me the crown, Cardan.”

I turn away. I school my face in a mask of indifference.

“No, brother. I do not think that I will," I check my nails, admiring the way the light glints off the iridescent polish, then grin at my brother, "I think that if I did not have another reason to cross you, I would do it for spite.”

I reach Oak and Jude. The little guy is holding the crown. They trust me so little that they would give it to him instead of me? Did they really think I would crown Balekin? Oak looks so docile that he could be mistaken for a human child. None of that rage I had at his age, yet we are both the unwanted offspring of cruel fathers. He survived his father's attempt at killing him, then he was adopted by a bloodthirsty warlord. I suppose a warmongering general is a better father than none at all. I clench my jaw at the thought, at all these things the lucky kid does not realize he has. Perhaps Jude's plan will turn him into a great ruler. More tolerant than Balekin would ever be.

“Show Oak,” Jude whispers to me, “Show him what he’s supposed to do. Kneel down.”

I raise a brow, “They’re going to think—”

They're going to think that he will crown me.

How laughable.

“Just do it,” she shoots back.

Not a command, yet I kneel anyway. The irony of kneeling next to Jude, whom I have always wanted to see on her knees, is not lost on me.

Oak does not move, nor give me the crown. I gesture to myself, as if trying to show him how to kneel .

“See?” I ask harshly, “Now the crown.”

I want for this to be over, I want to crown the kid and get on with my life. Whatever they do afterwards is none of my concern. Madoc will rule until Oak is old enough, with Jude to keep him in check. I can finally leave Elfhame. Perhaps even leave Faerieland altogether. I doubt the solitary fey would be glad to have one of the Gentry in their midst, but I can stay away from them. How hard could it be to live in the Mortal realm, pretend to be one of them?

Oak walks tentatively towards me. I look up at Jude, but all her attention is on Oak. I could almost think she is ignoring me.

“Phase four,” I whisper to her.

She bends down towards me and whispers in my ear, “For the next full minute, I command you not to move.”

The realization hit me. This was her plan all along. Gain control of me so I cannot deny her. I curse myself for a fool—of course she would not put Oak on the throne right away. That would give too much power to the General, and she does not trust him. She doesn't trust me either, I don't think, but she now has me under her control, so she does not need to.

I try to move, but my limbs do not cooperate. Instead, there is a prickling all over my body, a growing numbness.

"Go ahead," Vivienne coaxes her foster brother, "Just like we practiced."

The kid is looking down at me. I can tell he is unsure, his eyes glossy and his eyebrows ever so slightly narrowed. He reaches towards me, crown in hand.

“I crown you… King," he says as he puts the crown on my head, "High King of Faerie.”

I feel a jolt of energy going through my body. The air suddenly feels… richer. I can hear the wind rustling branches outside. My palms are braced on the soft ground and I feel the shift of the earth as worms burrow their way through, the gentle pulse of roots feeding the trees. The land was asleep, and now it is slowly coming to life again, symbiotic with my own body.

I flex my fingers when I realize the prickling of Jude's command has vanished. Slowly, I push myself up to my feet. Immediately, my gaze goes to her. I can feel the power rising in response to my temper, this boiling anger inside me that wants to be freed, but I shove it down. I look around to the Folk gathered around me until I see Lord Roiben, Lord of the Court of Termites, kneeling.

"My King," he says.

Had he known that I was the one Jude wanted to crown? Surely he would not have agreed to help if he did. Ruthless Roiben, who killed his way to the head of his court. I doubt The Black Knight thinks me deserving of the Blood Crown.

One by one, the remaining guests kneel. As I look down on them, the words that have dictated my life come to mind.

He will be destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne

Perhaps the prophecy was wrong? The crown is on my head, unbroken. The throne is not here, but with this new power in me, I just know that it is whole. I can feel the roots connecting all the land to it, keeping it alive.

The only people left standing are me and Balekin, locked in a staredown. He sees right through me, to all my insecurities and fear, and I let him. I refuse to cower, not anymore, never again.

"Rise," I command with more authority than I feel.

I can tell the people of Elfhame are waiting for me to give some kind of speech, but I have more pressing matters.

The guests get up and the silence is deafening. No music, no drinking, no cheering. I put a hand on my hip.

"Get all this rubble cleaned," I order the nearest servant, "the celebration has only begun. Bring the cellar's best wine."

I gesture the guards towards Balekin, "Take him away. I will speak with him after the revel. Until then, he is to be watched every moment. Do give him plenty to indulge while he waits, he is no prisoner."

I turn away from them, not waiting to see if they obey. I grab a goblet of wine from a passing servant and raise it.

"Let us toast to wine, for without its effect, my head would have rolled alongside my siblings'," the folk laugh and cheer, "Here's to all of you, who traveled far and wide to witness this feast of fools. I vow to have a reign worthy of this coronation, depraved and unpredictable."

I turn towards Jude and take in this mortal girl whose trickery is on par with the Fae, this mortal girl who poisoned my life. My one rival who tricked and cheated me. Yet I am in awe of her. Her knife-sharp gaze dares me to fight her, I grin at her instead.

"And to Jude, who gave me a gift tonight. One that I plan to repay in kind."

#the folk of the air #tfota #cardan greenbriar #cardan #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #the cruel prince #holly black #fanfic

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imagine-loki · 5 years

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Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 3 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

“So, it’s time?” Frigga looked at her husband.

“Laufey is ill, apparently. The Casket being gone does not allow their people the health and recovery they need so they suffer illness with more intensity and frequency, him most of all, they call for the new king and the return of the Casket. His son has supposedly learnt all that is expected of him in his role as ruler. Now it is time to see if he has upheld his end of our bargain so I can uphold ours.”

“And what if he has?”

“Then Ella weds Prince Loki of Jotunheim and becomes Queen of the ice realm. We give the Casket back to Jotunheim and regain one of our oldest allies. If not, then we may soon return to war.”

“I thought that he was the second born of Laufey’s sons? Did the elder one die?”

“No, he lives, and yes, Loki is the middle born. But none of the other sons' mates would ever bring in a dowry to match Ella’s. No other woman can bring anything to Laufey’s house to rival the Casket.” Odin shook his head. “‘Mates’, what are they, animals?”

Frigga nodded solemnly. “I had best inform our daughter about the situation.”

“Do, and if you see Thor, tell him to ready for departure also.” She nodded and left the room. Odin thought to himself for a moment. “Now we see if a monster can only breed a monster, or if he can sire a true king.”

“When do we leave?” Ella asked.

“We leave at the end of the week.”

“So soon?” “Laufey is apparently ill, he wants his son to be crowned while he lives to see it,” Frigga explained.

“Then, I best prepare and inform my ladies-in-waiting that they will require new positions.”

“What?”

“Mother, none can survive the cold of Jotunheim for longer than a few days without either ice blood or seidr and my ladies have neither. I only ask that you ensure them good husbands of high standing and have them stay close to the palace, they love it here, it is their home.”

“Who will tend to you on Jotunheim?” “I guess we shall see when we get there.” Frigga nodded and left her daughter to ready herself for her journey, relieved that she accepted what was to come so readily, knowing well that many a woman would fight it.

“What?” Loki looked at his father in shock. “No, it was agreed to be my coming of age, that to an Aesir is that not a thousand, I have more time before I am forced to endure her.”

“Well, first and foremost, you are not Aesir. I grow weak, Loki. We need the Casket. Let me see our realm begin to flourish once more before I die. Let me die knowing this terrible time is coming to an end.”

Loki said nothing. He could not argue such a request from his father. He simply nodded silently.

“Arden will advise you on everything that needs to be readied whilst I rest.” Laufey dismissed them, falling asleep on his throne as he did so.

“They will arrive come the week’s end,” Arden informed Loki as they walked down a hallway.

“We best hide our limited supply of drink before they come then, lest Prince Thor drinks in all in one sitting. I heard he is prone to doing such,” Loki ordered as he walked along. “I assume I also get the duty of informing my brothers?” “They must be told.”

“Odin’s coming here will not sit well with either of them but we cannot afford incident,” He sighed. “We need that Casket and if that means enduring that Aesir warmonger and his daughter, then we shall do so, for Jotunheim.” “The issue being, though the Allfather, his party and his boarish son will leave, the Princess must remain.” Arden pointed out.

“I am aware, sadly. I am sure we can distract her with something shiny. She will no doubt be kept occupied with menial matters.” “Childbearing tends to be one such task,” Arden pointed out.

“Norns, the idea of having to do such with her.” Loki shuddered at the mere thought. “Whatever else happens, you are required to continue your family line, your Highness.” “Arden, through everything, has there yet to be a time where I have faltered or shied away from my duty as heir to the throne?” Arden shook his head. “I need to father children, I know this and I will do so for Jotunheim but the idea of having to do so with one such as she...I think it only fair that I am allowed to be somewhat repulsed.” “I cannot argue that,” Arden agreed.

“They are practically one step away from eating their own young. Any she bears will immediately be given to carers for their own safety. The less she has to do with them, the better. Not that she would want anything to do with them. It is said she was reared with nothing but nursemaids and Governesses. I heard Odin did not even stay with the Allmother through her birth.” “It is also said that he did not stay with the queen through the birth of Prince Thor,” Arden added.

“Such is why they are so heartless. They are never taught to love. They could be pitied if they did not have such a bloodthirsty streak in them.” Loki shook his head. “No, my children will not suffer such a fate. She cannot teach them her peoples’ hate and bloodthirsty ways.”

“And were she to give you a daughter in the quest for a son?”

“Besla was given to Bor as a bargaining chip. As Frigga was given to Odin. Now they give her to me. They have no value in their women. See how they decide to strand her here, a warm-blooded woman on the ice realm, solely to ensure an allegiance, they are heartless. Any daughter that woman gives me and our realm will be spared the fate of her foremothers. She will know a parent’s love the way her dam could never think to love her. She will have her father’s love if nothing else.”

tags - @skulliebythesea

#loki #others #submission #wolfpawn #Submitted fic #chapter 3 #pride and prejudice

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wolfpawn · 5 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary - The time comes to bring the two youths together for the marriage, Frigga and Odin discuss the matter before telling Ella while Loki voices his unhappiness at the situation.

Previous Chapter

Request if you wish to be tagged

Tags - @peppermint-j @damalseer @perpetual-fangirl @tinchentitri @inspired-snowflace @raphaelaisabella

Notes: I know Besla, Odin's mother was a Frost Giant in the old Norse mythology, but she's not in this.

“So, it’s time?” Frigga looked at her husband.

“And what if he has?”

“Then Ella weds Prince Loki of Jotunheim and becomes Queen of the ice realm. We give the Casket back to Jotunheim and regain one of our oldest allies. If not, then we may soon return to war.”

“I thought that he was the second born of Laufey’s sons? Did the elder one die?”

Frigga nodded solemnly. “I had best inform our daughter about the situation.”

“When do we leave?” Ella asked.

“We leave at the end of the week.”

“So soon?” “Laufey is apparently ill, he wants his son to be crowned while he lives to see it,” Frigga explained.

“Then, I best prepare and inform my ladies-in-waiting that they will require new positions.”

“What?”

“What?” Loki looked at his father in shock. “No, it was agreed to be my coming of age, that to an Aesir is that not a thousand, I have more time before I am forced to endure her.”

Loki said nothing. He could not argue such a request from his father. He simply nodded silently.

“Arden will advise you on everything that needs to be readied whilst I rest.” Laufey dismissed them, falling asleep on his throne as he did so.

“They will arrive come the week’s end,” Arden informed Loki as they walked down a hallway.

“I am aware, sadly. I am sure we can distract her with something shiny. She will no doubt be kept occupied with menial matters.” “Childbearing tends to be one such task,” Arden pointed out.

“And were she to give you a daughter in the quest for a son?”

#Pride and Prejudice #Loki #chapter 3

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fandomsallaroundme · 5 years

Text

With the truth coming out about Odin's past as a warmongering dictator, the entire opening sequence of the first Thor movie reads as a gigantic propaganda reel.

This is the story Thor and Loki are told throughout their entire lives: Asgard are the good guys. Frost Giants are bloodthirsty monsters. The Frost Giants attacked an innocent, defenseless realm unprovoked, so Asgard had to come down from on high to drive them back. The Frost Giants were weak and cowardly, and eventually they lost, but to make sure they could never be a threat to weaker species again, the noble Asgardians had to take away their source of power and hoard it with the other artifacts in the vault.

This entire story is a lie.

It has to be.

Nothing from Phase 1 of Marvel has survived our preconceived notions: the Hulk is not a brutal monster that can never be reasoned with, Natasha is not just an assassin with a pretty face, SHIELD is not the benevolent peace keeping organization it appeared to be, Steve is not just a soldier who follows orders thoughtlessly, Tony is not just the self-described billionaire playboy.

The Thor franchise got a huge revision in Ragnorak with Hela's revelations about Asgard's past; you cannot tell me that the Jotuns invading Earth was just simple 'evil creatures doing evil things'.

A war always has two sides. The only side that gets to tell their version is the victor. I wonder what the Jotuns would have to say about Asgard's version of the truth?

#Thor #Loki #Sif #Valkyrie #Thor Odinson #Loki Friggason #Loki Laufeyson #MCU #Marvel

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cultml · 5 years

Link

In a sane, healthy world, a presidency like Obama’s would be looked upon with abject horror. Actually in a sane, healthy world a warmongering Wall Street crony like Obama would never have been elected in the first place, but if you were to show the members of a healthy, harmonious society the way that president used his power to do what he did to Libya and Syria, to continue and expand all of Bush’s most evil policies, to divert the push for economic justice into a neoliberal orgy for eight years, those people would recoil in absolute revulsion.

o..... kay? suuuure?

The only reason liberals think Obama had a low-key, drama-free presidency is because that presidency was normalized for them by the establishment narrative managers of the political/media class.

dead on

If that class had been shrieking about Obama’s warmongering, surveillance expansion, persecution of whistleblowers, crony capitalism etc in the way that it’s been shrieking about Trump’s nonexistent Russia ties or his obnoxious tweets, these same people would see Obama as a horrible monster

warmongering? other than that great

But the propagandists didn’t do that, because it would hinder the cause of bloodthirsty imperialism abroad and crushing austerity at home.

if i knew how and wasn’t lazy there would be a picture of Picard in a winnie the pooh costume with his hand on his forehead and a caption the reads “oh bother”

any who, got the gist so i didn’t read more

sp checking and...

youtube

#oh bother

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rcmclachlan · 5 years

Text

I saw DBS: Broly last night and I did NOT like it (spoilers within)

Let me preface this by saying I have not read the Super manga, and I’ve not seen Super in its entirety. I tapped out somewhere in the first season, because—Vegeta/Bulma goodness aside—it was boring as shit. And the animation was awful. I’ve heard that the animation improved in the later episodes, but there have been so many retcons and changes that I have no desire to pick it back up. I do, however, read DBS news articles, watch clips, and peruse the Dragon Ball Wikia for information whenever a new arc finishes, and... yikes.

But when I bought my ticket for Super: Broly, I had hope. The animation of Super: Broly looked incredible, very much like the style of the Z series, and if the trailers were any indication we were also getting a deeper look into life on Vegeta-sei.

I was ready for some of that old Z magic.

SPOILER ALERT: THE MAGIC’S GONE, KIDDOS.

PART I: Planet Retcon

The saiyan race has always fascinated me, from their warrior mindset and zero-culture to their physiology. When I was first introduced to the saiyans by way of the Oozaru in Dragon Ball, I was so excited. A normal-looking human who is anything but? How exciting! A little boy like Goku hiding a monster hiding inside of him? So cool! AND THEN it turned out he was an alien the entire time! And not only were the saiyans bloodthirsty warmongers, but their physiology is wack and so is their history! HERE FOR IT.

We caught glimpses of what it means to be saiyan during the Saiyan Saga of the Z series, but it wasn’t until Bardock: Father of Goku that we really got an idea of how cold and, well, inhuman the saiyans were. Which I loved. By our own standards, the saiyans were monsters—killing for profit and finding purpose in it, hunting in packs without any real bonds, no familial instincts, a cold and impersonal birth process, an unforgiving monarchy, and (of course) sending their babies off without protection to conquer new worlds. VEGETA-SEI WAS SPACE SPARTA AND THAT WAS COOL AS SHIT.

But all of that was wiped away with this movie, and the saiyans are so much less because of it.

One of the things I liked about the saiyans as seen in Bardock was their very nonchalant attitude about death and destruction. They were cold, almost robotic, in how they acted and talked to each other. It really helped sell me on how normal genocide and all that comes with it was to them. In Super: Broly, the saiyans act very, well, unsaiyan. We’re introduced to two minor saiyan characters who do nothing but worry, kowtow to authority, scratch the back of their heads and laugh nervously, and... don’t fight. Already, I don’t care about these saiyans, because they don’t seem like the saiyans around which the series has been built. If they hadn’t been wearing saiyan armor and scouters, I would’ve thought they were human.

The sending-off-babies-into-space thing is also lessened by this film, as we see the babies sent away wearing armor. Now, the impact in the original series and Bardock came from showing saiyan babies being sent away wearing nothing. Very much like ancient Sparta, it was a test of strength. Saiyan babies who survived to conquer the planet they were sent to were valued; babies who did not were labeled as weak and therefore unfit to live. By giving saiyan babies armor, that whole aspect of the saiyan culture is erased.

Speaking of erasing saiyan culture, let’s take a look at the character who cemented what it meant to be saiyan from the get-go.

Part II: Bardock, Goku’s Boring AF Father

The original Bardock was—as the kids say—an absolute dick. He was as cold-hearted as it got, but he wasn’t evil; he was simply a product of his culture. He had his band of fellow saiyan soldiers and had no attachment to them that could be called friendship (loyalty, sure), and did his blood-soaked duty as a saiyan employed by Frieza. You thought you might see some heart in him when he visited his sons in their incubator pods, but nope! All he did was bitch about Kakarot’s low power level, and that was that. When he gains the power to see the future, it’s not because he deserved it. He was literally in the middle of a massacre and one of the creatures he was killing gives him the gift of foresight as a punishment.

This is what made him a great character. By our standards, he was awful, but by saiyan standards he was a regular Joe. He was normal. Bardock was never looking for redemption; he was looking for vengeance. When Frieza’s forces killed Bardock’s team, Bardock took Toma’s blood-soaked bandana and wrapped it around his forehead and swore to get revenge. He wasn’t looking for anything more. When he began seeing visions of his grown son, he didn’t try to go deeper into what they meant. When he saw that the saiyans had no future, he didn’t try to convince everyone to get off-world to save themselves. He demanded they join him to attack their would-be murderer.

And all this was so great because it made Bardock’s last stand actually mean something. He, himself, wasn’t redeemed (and he wasn’t looking for redemption), but his race would be avenged by the future actions of his son.

So imagine my surprise when Bardock shows up in the first 15 minutes of Broly and he’s... good. Both in his disposition and in his heart. He has a family and cares about his sons, and when he realizes that Frieza is about to double-cross the saiyans he sends Kakarot away to spare his life. Who in the frickity-frack am I meant to believe this is, because it’s certainly not the Bardock who set the tone for what it meant to be an average saiyan.

Before I go further, let me get this out of the way: I am well aware that Akira Toriyama-sensei can only write three kinds of women—housewives, sex objects, and shrews—and that Bulma is very much an anomaly, but I have never felt rage the way I did when Bardock’s wife, Gine, is revealed to be... a housewife. Literally, she’s in the kitchen chopping up food when we meet her, and she’s back in the kitchen chopping up food when the planet is destroyed. On a planet of warriors who fight and do nothing else, the only female saiyan we are introduced to is kitchen-bound. Oh, and she also cries a lot, because... female, I guess.

Anyway.

I was shocked by the complete 180 on Bardock. It not only takes away from how we view the saiyan race as a whole, but it lessens Bardock’s stand against Frieza. In fact, in Super: Broly, he’s shown firing against and being destroyed by Frieza’s blast. There’s no actual reason for him to try and stop the blast. Like, literally none. There’s no meaning to him doing that, and therefore there’s no meaning in his death. He becomes a footnote in the story he originally tried to change.

And yes, I know there was that special where Bardock goes Super Saiyan and fights Frieza’s like second cousin or something, but I absolutely don’t consider that canon. You know what that is? Bullshit.

Part III: Sins of the Father

I had hoped for a deeper look at King Vegeta and how he reacts to the discovery of Broly’s power level, as well as his relationship to the Kolds, but... alas.

In the original Broly film, King Vegeta is shown trying to straight-up murder Broly to prevent him from growing into his power. It’s only when that fails does he exile Broly and Paragus to another world. In the Z series, we see King Vegeta as a strong, resolute monarch who knows his son. As in, actually speaks to a Vegeta that’s old enough to be out of the incubator and killing. In Super:Broly, King Vegeta seems like he could use a muscle relaxer. He is an anxious, whiny character who seems utterly terrified of the Kolds, and has no contact with Vegeta other than peering at him through the incubator.

I really liked the cool and put-together saiyan king in Vegeta’s flashbacks in the Z series, because it really showed how different Vegeta was from his father. Had Vegeta-sei not been destroyed and Vegeta allowed to grow and train under the guide of his father, I’m sure his personality would be very close to that of the King’s. Instead, he’s volatile and bratty, thanks to both Frieza and Nappa rearing him from childhood. If Vegeta saw his father the way he’s portrayed in Super: Broly, he’d be appalled. Except, new canon dictates that Vegeta never knew the King.

I’m... not entirely sure why canon was changed so Vegeta didn’t know his father, especially since it negates Vegeta’s main motivation throughout the Z series, which is to get stronger and claim his birthright by becoming the super saiyan, making his father proud. Like, we get flashbacks to King Vegeta and Vegeta out on a father-son killing spree and King Vegeta imparting wisdom onto his son. In Super: Broly, it’s implied that Vegeta has only ever been a member of the Frieza Force and seems to be A-OK with the fact. So, does that mean he doesn’t cry on Namek when he confesses his life story to Goku? Does that mean that he doesn’t think of that lovely day with dear old dad when he’s trying to attain the level of super saiyan? It changes too much about the experiences that helped shape Vegeta into the killer-turned-family man we know today.

Part IV: Team-Up with Frieza

This makes me so angry I can’t even see straight and I have enough to say about the subject to fill four books, but I will never forgive Toriyama for dragging this most excellent villain out of hell to team up with our heroes to save the universe... that he was doing his level best to end.

He stole Vegeta’s everything, and now we’re expected to believe that he would fight alongside him? In Super: Broly, Goku is shocked by the thought that Frieza would turn against them since he owes them for bringing him back to life. FUCK YOU, YOU DUMBASS.

Part V: Not with a Bang, but a Whimper

I remember the first time I watched the original Broly and I was like, “Damn, everyone’s getting their asses kicked,” to the point that secondary fighters like Piccolo had to join the fray to try and offset the damage being paid to Goku, Vegeta, and Trunks. There were actual injuries in that film. Fighters were hurt, and spent, and defeated. You watched the battle and felt every punch land. Vegeta had a literal mental breakdown. Of course Broly wasn’t going to win in the end, but he came damn close. Also, he was terrifying. He was that wide-eyed, innocent boy at the start, yes, but once he turned... he became an actual monster.

In Super: Broly, I wasn’t worried about either Goku or Vegeta, even when Goku was choking on spit after being punched in the gut. You know why? Because it was spit. Once upon a time, it would have been blood, which would have led you to believe those hits were doing serious damage, which would have led you to believe that the hero was in trouble. After getting knocked around by Broly for a bit, Goku lay there, stunned, and then had a psychic conversation with Piccolo... who WASN’T WORRIED. He said, “This one looks tough,” and never left his fucking flamingo stance. And considering that two seconds later, Goku gets back up and immediately transforms into the super saiyan god blue, Piccolo had every reason to be chill. After Vegeta had his turn fighting Broly, he didn’t jump back in until it was time to fuse with Goku and become Gogeta. No one was worried about Broly fucking shit up. Hell, Gohan didn’t even make an appearance in this movie.

Which brings me to my biggest gripe with Super: Broly and Dragon Ball Super as a whole.

There are no stakes in this universe anymore.

I own both Battle of Gods and Resurrection F. They’re fun films, and I really enjoy BoG, but my takeaway from Resurrection F was what I took away from Super as a whole: it doesn’t matter what happens because there’s no reason to be concerned about anything. When you have a destruction god who can step in at any time, or a whatever-the-hell Whis is who can just rewind the clock, the conflict that comes with any new big bad is, well, unnecessary. The existence of the dragon balls was always a bit of a cop-out to begin with (hilariously addressed by the DBZA series), but they were able to circumvent the problem by capping the number of times someone could be brought back to life. With Whis and Beerus kicking around, who cares if someone else comes to challenge the Z-Warriors (just Goku and Vegeta at this point)? It’s not like anything’s going to happen to anyone or the planet when they have the power to either stop it from going to far or reversing the damage when it’s done (and they’ve shown in the past, like in Resurrection F, that they can and will use that power).

During the scene where Piccolo instructs Vegeta and Goku on how to fuse, there was no urgency. Elsewhere, Frieza was fighting Broly, but for some reason no one seemed concerned that Frieza—who was the reason Broly came to Earth in the first place—wouldn’t stop fighting and instead have Broly go apeshit (ha) on a random city or even destroy the fucking planet. Nope. Instead, Vegeta, Goku, and Piccolo spend about two hours trying to get fusion right. Piccolo didn’t yell once, just kept saying, “Wait 30 minutes and try again.” And then once they finally got the fusion dance down and did the thing, they spent another two minutes trying to decide on a cool name.

Because even if Frieza decided to make good on his promise to ruin Goku, Whis would’ve stepped in. Beerus would’ve stopped lounging poolside and stopped Broly with a flick of his finger.

There’s never again going to be the tension of the original Frieza saga, or the delicious cruelty of the Androids and Cell as seen in those sagas, or even the worlds-shakingly bonkers saga of Buu. The heroes have surpassed every single power level, and now they’re palling around with gods.

Escalation is a problem inherent in shounen anyway. With every new challenge, the heroes keep leveling up until you hit the point we’re at right now in Super: you plateau. Where are Goku and Vegeta supposed to go now that they’ve attained super saiyan god blue? I know that the next series of Super will see them have that power taken away, but the fact that they have to do this at all shows you that I’m absolutely right about all of this. There’s no conflict if you or your friends are stronger than your strongest opponent.

VI: In Conclusion

Originally Toriyama-sensei was supposed to stop the DB series with the end of the Cell Saga, and continued with Buu under duress. At this point, however, I think he’s just addicted to the sound that the Brinks truck (or the Japanese equivalent) makes whenever it dumps a mountain of yen into his driveway. Super never needed to be made, and its existence is unraveling the canon that made me fall in love with the series in the first place.

Dragon Ball has become, dare I say it, boring.

I won’t lie and say that I don’t love all the family man Vegeta content that we’re getting out of it, but it makes sense for his character. This is his reward for completing his redemption arc: he gets to enjoy his life with the family he chose. The rest of it is just a mess, and almost a mirror image of what the Z series used to be. At its heart, DBZ was an action drama with goofy elements. DBS is a goofy general series with action-drama elements. Yes, change is the nature of life, but this change has not been for the better for my beloved DB universe.

So, no. I did not enjoy Super: Broly. The conflict could barely call itself that, there were no stakes, the writing was weak, and the characters were thinly drawn. It did have some of the most beautifully-animated battle sequences I’ve seen in a DB movie, but those battles completely lacked tension.

I’m still holding out hope that Super might be able to pull itself out of the hole that Toriyama-sensei has dug, but as we all know: I’m a sucker, and I already know that’s not going to happen.

To quote @marianthehawke: “So, back to fanfic.”

#dbz #dbs broly #all commentary is my own opinion #i managed to cut this down from 3.5k words to 2.8k so go me

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twitchesandstitches · 5 years

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What do you think of the Megatron from the IDW comics, more specifically MTMTE (More Then Meets The Eye) comics?

i have complicated feelings about him

like, he is REALLY well-written and a genuinely engaging character. It’s really interesting to see Megatron, who has always been nothing but pure evil and treachery, depicted as a broken down old man, weary and seeing the light, initially trying to escape the justice he deserves and realizing over time the monster he made himself into, and fully renouncing the Decepticon ideology.

however, as much as I like that...

it also feels like giving a genuinely genocidal dictator and bloodthirsty despot a quick redemption ticket while playing him for angst and not giving nearly enough attention to the fact that he personally instituted a system of invasion for exterminating entire civilizations and his faction was dedicated to, and this is a sticking point to me, the systematic murder of all life besides themselves and conquering their planets.

much of Megatron’s horrific crimes of xenocide are dismissed are not really drawn upon, and it doesn’t help that the author can, I’ve heard, be kind of a dick about it. Megatron was a vicious, hateful monster and much of his change doesn’t feel genuine. Combine this with the HUGE bias the author also has against Autobots (autobot villains are ALWAYS pure evil scumbags, Decepticon villains have a good side or One Good Point) and a tendency to just ignore or downplay the xenocide crimes and its just... really, really uncomfortable.

there’s been a HUGE upswing in fans who sincerely think the Decepticons are good guy rebels and the Autobots are the bad guys who want to stop them from bringing Justice, and ignore that the ‘Cons are authoritarian xenocidal mass murderers and warmongers who are canonically obessed with mechanical purity above all things, and i kind of feel like this take on MEgatron and the ‘Cons, as much as its enjoyable to read, really encouraged too much of that.

I would honestly prefer a different take where Shockwave, freed from Shadowplay, was the remorseful Decepticon and Megatron was the one who died a martyr. SHockwave has the excuse of not being in his right state of mind all that time, so his own role in his crimes is questionable, while Megatron’s sheer egotism in saving Cybertron and making Optimus look bad posthumously is super in-character.

I would like to see Megatron become genuinely Good permanently, but i would like it to have a bit more respect to the people he slaughtered and not play it for ‘lets feel bad for the genocidal warmonger’, honestly?

#queued #i have complicated feelings aobut IDW and ESPECIALLY that particular author #he did a lot of good stuff #there's more LGBT transformers content #WAY more female transformers #and some outright fascinating concepts that should remain a lore constant form now on #but again he's kind of a huge asshole who has this bizarre bias against the Autobots #like he took my fave Grimlock and reinstituted his g1 speech quirk in a SUPER uncomfortable way #MTME is a blast and i love it but its not without problems #transformers #anon replies #replies #megatron #Anonymous

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sweet-smarts · 5 years

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🌷 eclipsa!

Send ‘🌷’ to hear my muse talk about their mother, or a mother figure.

“You want to know about my mother?” All the vim and vigor in her countenance drains away, leaving a deep chasm of silence. What remains resembles nothing of the chipper, whimsical young woman who once stood before you, and you suppose now is as good a time as any to put your foot in your mouth.

At length, Eclipsa contemplates this appeal for further information before finally offering a disconsolate sigh - a bitter, empty sound. “Well… Solaria Butterfly was a fierce, handsome warrior-queen who valued her kingdom. Unfortunately she was also a warmonger– ruthless, bloodthirsty, and cared nothing of the suffering she inflicted on the monsters. In fact, she enjoyed it. Reveled in it.

“Her malice for them was unparalleled, and she went so far as to amass an army enhanced by her magic - The Solarian Army. But such power doesn’t come without a cost, you know, and they paid dearly for their blind dedication. Ah.. but I suppose I’m getting a bit off-topic, aren’t I?

“Anyway.. as a parent my mother was kind, but.. undeniably controlling. She loved me, I’m certain, but not for who I was– who I am– she loved me as a symbol. I was her sweet, clever little star - meant to ascend to the throne and marry a stuffy, spoilt aristocrat of her choosing,” Delicate features contort into a sneer of disgust at the recollection of her late ex-husband Shastacan, and then her expression darkens further. “To obediently carry out my duties as queen while she no doubt loomed over my shoulder to keep me in line. But, she never lived to see my coronation. Her thirst for war caught up to her in the end.

“I can’t bear to think of what she’d do if she could see me now. Married to the 'Prince of Darkness', with a half-monster daughter…” Her grip on her wand tightens and she swallows thickly, shaking the thought away. “I wish things could have been different– I really do, but it’s pointless to dwell on it now. So if it’s all the same to you, love, I think I’d like to move onto something a bit more lighthearted.”

#answered asks #ask: eclipsa #gossamumbra #i hope this read okay im like so fuckin gone on benadryl rn

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theathenianinspector · 5 years

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Contemporary portrayals of Ares, the god of war (not Kratos), have not been kind. A fair amount of emphasis has been placed on his violent and combative aspects, understandable since he was a god of war, to create a god that has been utilised as a villain by many world builders and writers. But this focus on violence I would argue has skewed our view against him to the point of being reductionist.

Ares has been present in most films and popular series’ that involve classical mythology. And most of them he is if not a total villain, a horrendous bully. In Clash of the Titans (2010) he betrays Zeus alongside Hades (a god who has also been misrepresented in contemporary media), in Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief he is manipulated by Kronos to hold Zeus’ Master Bolt and most importantly is a total jerk to our nominal protagonist who eventually defeats him in single combat. While in Wonder Woman (2017) he is the antagonist who supposedly brings out the violent and bloodthirsty sides of mankind during the First World War, plus he is portrayed as attempting again to overthrow Zeus. Lastly in God of War Ares is responsible for all manner of injustices towards Kratos…again for the purposes of overthrowing Zeus. Seriously where did this idea that Ares wanted to overthrow Zeus come from?

Ares slaughters his Olympian brethren. Wonder Woman (2016)

The most positive depictions of Ares in modern media have been Immortals (2011) when he helped Theseus against his father’s wishes, and Disney’s Hercules (1997) which by far portrayed him most kindly as he barely got any screen time. So why do we villainize Ares? I would argue that as he was solely the god of war, he didn’t have any extra domains such as weaving, metalwork or music, he could only be seen as destructive. We can get a sense of this in his portrayal in the Iliad when Zeus rebukes him for returning to him in tears after being lanced by the mortal hero Diomedes:

“Sit thou not in any wise by me and whine, thou renegade. Most hateful to me art thou of all gods that hold Olympus, for ever is strife dear to thee and wars and fighting. Thou hast the unbearable, unyielding spirit of thy mother, even of Hera; her can I scarce control by my words. Wherefore it is by her promptings, I think, that you suffer this. But I will no longer endure you in pain, for you are my offspring, and it was to me that thy mother bare you; but were you born of any other god, as the pestilence you are, then long ere this hadst thou been lower than the sons of heaven.”

5.889-898

We also find very few cults worshipping Ares in Greek cities. The reason for which has been speculated that the Greeks did not wish to openly worship violence. The most accounted for place of Ares worship was Sparta which kept a statue of the god chained so he would never desert them (Pausanias 3.15.7). This has given the impression that Spartans were somehow more violent and warmongering than their fellow Greeks – an assertion difficult to support with historiography. Sparta if anything was cautious to war lest their Helots revolt in their army’s absence. Also, by the time of Pausanias they had shrines to Athena, Zeus, Artemis and Aphrodite. While our modern reception has taken this perception of Ares and combined it with a contemporary dread and condemnation of all violence and war on the collected experience of two world wars and the more visibly accessible carnage of the 21st century . So was Ares just pure unadulterated violence?

Ares the antagonist of God of War (2005)

The Homeric Hymn to Ares would certainly disagree with that assessment, Ares is paid such complements as: ‘exceeding in strength’, ‘doughty in heart’, ‘Saviour of cities’, ‘unwearying’, ‘defence of Olympus’, ‘father of warlike Victory’, ‘ally of Justice’, ‘leader of righteous men’, ‘sceptred King of manliness’ (1-6). Much more than an aggressive force of violence, Ares is warfare done in defence of the city and a paragon of aristocratic masculinity. He is associated with the qualities that make a city successful and harmonious: strength, victory and justice. We might associate him with warmongering, but he could just as much be invoked by a soldier defending his home. The Hymn goes on:

‘Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife.’

l.10-15

Ares appears to be a god that inspires courage as well as (uncharacteristic) discipline. From the hymn the god gave the soldier his will to keep down both his dread to go into battle and possibly die as well as his urge to commit violence against his fellow citizens. I would therefore argue that Ares represents not the violence and warfare, but its primal emotional aspect: its courage, urge to defend one’s home and the discipline required to overcome fear. Thus, the Spartans didn’t keep Ares chained as a means to ensure perpetual brutality, but so that the values of bravery and discipline would never desert them in battle. And it is these realms that pop culture has failed to recognise and so has resulted in the demonization of Ares’ persona.

Greek and Roman depictions of Ares

If the qualities of bravery and discipline seem remote to the god of war’s character because you’ve astutely noticed that the former Iliad passage was from Ares fleeing a battle, or you’ve heard of the story when he was overpowered by two giants and kept in a jar, then that is understandable. Ares can also be argued to have been a negatively perceived god because of the company he kept: Deimos (Dread) and Phobos (Fear) were his charioteers so that didn’t exactly help with PR. However, bear in mind that Athena was also present at the same battle as Ares in the Iliad and was also one of the gods that allegedly temporarily overthrew Zeus, while Ares wasn’t even named in masterminding the plot (Homer, Iliad 5.840-6 ; 1.399-406); and pop culture doesn’t nearly give her the same amount of negativity. Moreover, terror was not a domain particular to Ares. The satyr god Pan is the origin for the English word ‘Panic’ and Dionysus was actually also attributed the fear of men turning tail and fleeing battle as a form of madness (Euripides, Bacchae 302-6). Regarding his lacklustre performance against Otus and Ephialtes (Homer, Iliad 5.385-92), bear in mind that Zeus, the King of Olympus, had his tendons ripped out by the monster Typhon, and that Ares fighting them in the first place was by definition doing his job as defending Olympus. We should also give him some credit for defeating the serpent footed giant Echidnades who was a son of Echidna, the mother of monsters and whom Kronos used to confront Zeus’ thunderbolts (Nonnus, Dionysiaca 18. 274).

Thus, the popular view of Ares as the embodiment of human violence and warmongering is simply reductionist. Since mainstream reception has assumed that Ares is bad by definition because aggression and violence are such, the god of war has been villainised and implicated in strangely consistent plots where he overthrows his own father Zeus. On this, Zeus was actually paranoid that Athene was the one to defeat him, hence why he ate her and her mother Metis which resulted with Athena’s birth as she sprang forth from Zeus’ head. This singular interpretation has left out key evidence of Ares’ wider significance and characterisation which should be considered when we think of portraying him responsibly to public audiences to get a better impression of the Greeks’ god of war.

Dan Tang

The Athenian Inspector

If you want to learn about the Romans, check out: https://romanimperium.wordpress.com/

Rehabilitating Ares in Pop Culture Contemporary portrayals of Ares, the god of war (not Kratos), have not been kind. A fair amount of emphasis has been placed on his violent and combative aspects, understandable since he was a god of war, to create a god that has been utilised as a villain by many world builders and writers.

#Ares #battle #book #Classics #film #Gaming #God of War #Gods #Percy Jackson #Pop Culture #reception #Violence #War #Wonder Woman

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loki-god-of-menace · 6 years

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Odin banishing Thor for being too bloodthirsty and arrogant takes on a darker light after Thor Ragnarok revealed Odin sealed away his firstborn daughter Hela in the far past for similar reasons. Even after Odin had a change of heart and was determined to make sure his later children would become benevolent protectors instead of warmongers it seemed like Thor was heading down the same exact path anyway. and

(2/2) For the same reasons Odin’s facial expressions during Thor’s supposed coronation: He has tears in his eyes and his voice even cracks when he calls Thor his firstborn.

If all of Odin’s children seem to head down the same exact pathway - warmongering, violent, etc - than I think Odin needs to examine himself.

I see what you mean, though, certainly. In light of Hela’s actions, and choices, Thor’s descent into similar patterns is curious and reflective of the same. One must wonder though, with Hela already locked away for desiring too much power/refusing to settle for peace when Odin had raised her by his side for war, why Odin did not curb Thor’s tendencies early.

It makes no sense that Odin would choose to let Thor’s reckless, violent appetites reach fruition in Jotunheim, when he knows perfectly well about Hela, and sealed her away for something similar. Odin allowed child!Thor’s comments about ‘hunting the monsters down’ and slaying them all to stand without contradiction except ‘never seek out war’. So, either Odin honestly believed Thor would never go down a similar path merely by virtue of the fact that Asgard itself was not actively conquering as much as it used to be (and Odin told stories of how Asgard saved the Nine instead of subjugated it) OR he was blinded by favoritism for his second blood-born child by his beloved queen, and did want to think Thor could ever get that bad, even when it was right before his eyes.

I… honestly dislike Ragnarok to the point where I do not like to examine the first 2 Thor movies in light of it, especially since I feel like Kenneth Brannagh crafted a deep, Shakespearean royal family in Thor 1 that needed no addition of Hela to make it messy, BUT. Thank you for the asks! :D You are right, Odin seemed to still have the same issues, and in light of that, I think he has to be the common denominator in that.

#meta #my meta #megashadowdragon #ask

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blakes-seven-or-so-blog · 6 years

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S1, E8: Duel

I like this episode right away because there are spooky statues everywhere. I want a yard planet filled with those to keep trespassers out.

A magical blue lady and her cranky elderly companion have a metaphysical conversation about their atonement and their duties as Gatekeeper and Keymaster Keeper and Guardian. The younger lady Sinofar isn't wearing a bra and the older one Giroc is Keeper of the Greased Pole Climbing Guild I think.

Travis's spaceship is made from an actual shipping container and is crewed by mutoids, which are one of the more original character designs in the series. Travis mentioned earlier that he prefers working with them, and now I notice that he dresses just like them too. Mutoids are 'modified' humans - in other words they are biologically, mentally, and cybernetically altered to serve the Federation better. They wear black, have weird bulbous heads that look kind of like goth bell peppers, and they're pale and emotionless. Also, they are literal vampires, requiring nutrients in the form of either blood serum plugged into their chest, or actual blood in a pinch. As a teenage goth, mutoids really appealed to me. Most of the mutoids we see are female, but there is a male in this episode and one other I think. The mutoid woman loftily refers to regular humans as The Unmodified.

Zen is still a smartass, Avon refuses to admit Zen is sentient, Vila accuses Avon of being a machine, and Avon retorts that it's better than being a crap human like Vila. It's the Three Stooges, in space! The Liberator needs to recharge so Blake suggests they have a break on this lightning-plagued planet, and Jenna jumps at the chance to get away from the dorks around her. Gan also thinks Avon and Vila are being a bit insufferable. Blake ribs Vila about his tendency to take naps. Vila teleports them down to the planet and promptly takes a nap. I mean, his name is RESTAL, Blake.

They deduce that the statues are grave markers and that the planet is utterly dead, but Gan sees the ladies, who are no longer blue. Then the ladies are gone and he wonders if his brain implant is malfunctioning, which, horrifyingly, is implied to be commonplace. Blake disturbs Vila's angelic rest again, this time to call for immediate evacuation when they spot Travis's pursuit ships in the sky.

Vila didn't just take a nap on the job, he took his sneakers off to nap on the job more comfortably.

They don't have enough power to either run or fight so Zen suggests surrendering. I really don’t think Zen likes them much. Blake draws a football diagram to say "let's ram Travis". Avon saves Blake from an explosion a nasty fall by catching him, and stands there like the tsundere sonofabitch he is, holding Blake in his arms, for a good ten seconds.

JUST KISS ALREADY.

And if you think I'm reading too much into this:

BLAKE Have you got any better ideas? [Violent impact. As Blake and Avon reel back, Avon clutches Blake protectively, perhaps to steady him] AVON As a matter of fact, no I haven't. BLAKE Does that mean you agree? AVON Do I have a choice? BLAKE Yes. AVON Then I agree. [Lets go of Blake]

The look on Gan's face when Blake says he's going to ram Travis is priceless.

Just before the ships collide, time slows down, everything gets trippy, and everyone is in agony from the awful incidental music. Blake and Travis appear on the planet, and the old lady calls Travis primitive, pompous, and stupid while he has a temper tantrum.

The ladies were just waiting for someone to come along and have a battle near the utterly dead planet so they could do their Thunderdome ritual: kidnapping the two main combatants plus a friend each, and forcing them to fight to the death with their bare hands. This is supposed to prevent needless collateral damage like happened to their planet, and teach them a lesson about the consequences of violence; “the death of an enemy and the death of a friend”. Yet, the winner will be free to leave and keep on wrecking shit elsewhere, so not really sure what the point is.

When asked how many are in his group, Blake says "there are six of us." So he counted Zen as the seventh in an earlier episode but now Zen is chopped liver, eh? Or is Zen just not in danger from the weird ladies so he wasn't included? No wonder Zen is so obstructive, people keep invalidating his sentience and unincluding him at convenient moments. I love you, Zen, even if no one else does.

The ladies mentally send Blake and Travis to a nice, wooded park on their utterly dead planet. Jenna disappears from the Liberator and no one notices because they're too busy watching the Hunger Games. After a bit of playful and almost deadly interference from the bloodthirsty old lady, they restart the duel. Jenna is annoyed that she has been chosen to die alongside Blake just for being his friend, as if his track record of dozens of Federation-murdered friends hadn't clued her in already. The mutoid woman is chosen as Travis's 'friend', though Blake is certain Travis doesn't have friends.

Blake and Jenna take shelter up a tree for the night because the utterly dead planet sounds like it's full of large and very alive monsters. Travis impishly asks his mutoid friend if she remembers who she was before she was modified. Apparently he knew her, from the subtext possibly dated her, and is irritated to find she neither remembers nor cares. So she is the closest thing to a friend he's got right now, but the woman he knew is gone. Poor Travis. I almost feel sorry for him.

A vampire bat feeds on Blake's hand and sadly he fails to turn into a vampire or even rabid. Avon is too bored to watch the Hunger Games all night, and the others accuse him of being uncaring, to which he replies, "I have never understood why it should be necessary to become irrational in order to prove that you care, or, indeed, why it should be necessary to prove it at all." In other words, practical and useful actions like catching your friendleader speak louder than pointless displays of loyalty like watching him sit in a tree. It goes over Vila's head but Cally gets it: Avon cares.

The mutoid formerly known as Keyeira trapped and drained the blood from several vampire bats during the night to sate her hunger. That is hardcore. Travis warns her that he's not on the menu, and she says she'll be vampired impaired if she doesn't get more blood soon. Travis sets her on Jenna, but just as she's about to stick Jenna with her handy cybervampire sleeve-needle, Travis yanks her dinner away to use as Blake bait. That decision backfires when the mutoid's impaired reflexes make her spring the trap too slowly.

While Jenna fights the mutoid, Blake and Travis have a dramatic quarterstaff fight which is not quite as good as the one where Daffy Duck is Robin Hood. Jenna throws the mutoid against a tree which knocks her out. Blake defeats Travis but declines to kill him, AGAIN. Everyone on the Liberator was urging him to kill Travis except Avon, who knows Blake is fine with blowing up entire Federation bases full of people, shouting cult leaders, and villain-riddled spaceships, but not ruthlessly staking his worst enemy while he's down. Blake gives various reasons for doing so, ending with, "I would have enjoyed it". Don’t kinkshame yourself, Blake. The weird ladies concede that this duel was pointless and let them go.

Gan heals Blake's hand with the magic eraser while Blake is coy about Sinofar's beauty(ful nipples). Meanwhile Travis berates the weird ladies for letting Blake go, and he callously says his mostly-dead mutoid 'friend' is basically just a broken machine of no further value, even when they offer to heal her. They tell him it's because of warmongering assholes like him that they are stuck there and kick him out.

Back on his ship, the mutoid is healed and fed, but Travis is disillusioned with his ‘friend’ and blames her for everything. Whoops, all my pity for him just flew off at time distort 6.

Damage report:

some vampire bats

...That's it?! No one died?! Nothing blew up?! I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or cheated.

I feel like this episode solidified Blake and Jenna as close friends. Sinofar looked into Blake’s mind and saw that he considered Jenna his friend. She also saw that Travis considered the mutoid to be a friend, probably because she was the closest thing available - someone Travis had known socially and liked at one time. Too bad the mutoid was no longer capable of reciprocation.

Next: Project Avalon

#blake's 7 #season 1 #Duel #review #blue ladies

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