#i know i like elves because i have issues around death/dying and feeling like the world is moving too fast | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #192

Today on Fate and Phantasms we're building the enchanting Caster of Okeanos, which despite her name doesn't actually show up in Okeanos, but rather the fourth pseudosingularity, Salem. She's also one of the last servants in the game (so far) to have her true name hidden, so pretty soon I can stop pointing out how her character build below the cut has true name spoilers. Specifically, this build also includes spoilers for the Salem pseudosingularity, so read at your own peril.

If you'd rather just check out her character sheet, you can find that over here.

Next up: The equal to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, so just, equal to heaven, I guess.

Circe is a Transmutation Wizard, because she is a witch, and Transmutation is where they stuck polymorph.

Race and Background

Like her protege, Circe is an Elf, but if we want kindasorta falcon wings, that might be tricky. Just kidding, for some reason WotC thought winged elves were a priority, so we got Avariel Elves from an unearthed arcana. This means you only get +2 to a single stat, but we can make that Intelligence thanks to Tasha's for a brain blast. Your subrace gives you 30' of flying speed as long as you don't wear medium or heavy armor (not an issue), as well as the standard elf kit: Darkvision, Fey Ancestry to protect against charms, Trances instead of sleep, and proficiency in Perception thanks to your Keen Senses.

Circe lives on her island alone (if you don't count pigs) so that makes her a Hermit, privy to the secrets of the universe as well as Medicine and replacing the other proficiency (which we'll get back as a class proficiency) with Deception. Tricking men into turning into pigs is kind of a hobby for you.

Ability Scores

Your strongest score should go into Intelligence, that's how you cast spells, and also you're clearly more intelligent than the men who show up on your island. Speaking of, Charisma is next- you're a witch in the middle of a witch hunt that somehow never got caught, and there's also that whole Pig Island thing. Your Dexterity is also pretty good, it's hard enough to cast spells while walking, let alone flying. Also those heels, oh my fucking god how have you not broken an ankle yet. Your Constitution is above average mostly because I'd feel bad putting it any lower. That means your Wisdom is pretty low. You publicly introduce yourself as a witch in the middle of the Salem Witch Trials, and you're pretty flighty in general. Finally, dump Strength. You're a wizard, and you're clearly not that buff.

Class Levels

Circe is a wizard, meaning she starts off with proficiency in Intelligence and Wisdom saves, as well as Arcana and Religion. When you worship the goddess of magic, there isn't much of a difference, tbh. Speaking of magic, you can cast and prepare Spells using your Intelligence. Your spell slots normally only recharge on long rests, but once per long rest you can get a couple slots back on a short rest thanks to your Arcane Recovery, giving you back slots of a total level equal to half your wizard level rounded up. So when you hit level three, you can get back one 2nd level slot, or two 1st level slots. The thing about wizard is, they get a lot of spells. Six now, and two each level, plus whatever they can scavenge from other wizards. Since Circe's whole power set is "good at magic", there really isn't a set of spells that fit- any spell you could cast would be applicable. So rather than try to boil it down myself, we're just giving a rough guide here. There's a whole ass list on the character sheet, and we'll bring up the super important ones here, but really there's three qualifications: if a spell fits into one of these categories, Circe would probably have it. 1. Is it useful? The most open-ended, but just fill in spaces left by the other 2 with spells you want. I'm not a goddamn baby sitter, pick spells you like. 2. Can it turn one thing into another? Men to pigs, You into Medea, whatever kykeon is made out of into kykeon, this one's pretty easy to spot. 3. Can it help someone sail a ship? A bit specific, but helping the sailors she doesn't turn into pigs is also Circe's thing. Skill empowerment, weather control, that kind of thing. With all that out of the way, the big spells you'll probably want at first level are Mage Armor for not dying, Magic Missile for caster balls, and Sleep to knock out the sailors while you go around turning them to pigs. True Polymorph takes an hour per sailor and you need to recharge with a long rest, so this’ll take a while.

At second level, you become a Transmutation Savant, giving you all sorts of bonuses, like how copying transmutation spells into your book is cheaper and faster now. You can also make Minor Alchemy, turning 1 cubic foot of wood, stone, iron, copper, or silver, into another material on that list over the course of 10 minutes. You're not strong enough to shatter wooden chains either, but hopefully someone on your team is. This transformation lasts up to an hour or until you lose concentration, then it turns back to its regular form.

Third level wizards get Cantrip Formulas, letting you swap out one cantrip you know with a cantrip you don't know at the end of a long rest. You also get second level spells, like Alter Self to turn into Medea (among other benefits), and Gust of Wind to help out with sailing.

Use your first Ability Score Improvement to get a Keen Mind- always knowing which way you're facing and the angle the sun should be at are both really useful on the open sea. It also rounds up your Intelligence for stronger spells, and you can make your DM's life hell by remembering things up to a month after they happened.

Fifth level wizards get third level spells. Feign Death will help fake Mata Hari’s hanging later on, and Bestow Curse is super useful, since it can give a creature disadvantage on one kind of save. Like, say, wisdom saves. I wonder if there's a spell you like that requires a wisdom save coming up?

Sixth level transmutation wizards can create a Transmuter's Stone, a tiny object that gives its holder one of several benefits. When you make the stone, and if you're holding it while casting a transmutation spell, you can choose its beneft from the following: Darkvision, increased speed, proficiency in constitution saves, or resistance to one of acid, cold, fire, lightning, or thunder. You can only make one at a time after 8 hours of work, so don't try to stack them.

Seventh level wizards get fourth level spells, and you could get polymorph now if you really want, but you can also get that spell later for free, so if you're patient, you can get another spell now. If you do go for polymorph, it forces a wisdom save on a creature, and if they fail the save or they're willing, you can turn one creature into a beast with a CR equal to or less than the target's CR or level. All of the creature's stats are replaced by the new creature's, outside of alignment and personality. If it drops to 0 HP in this form, and hour passes, or you drop concentration, they turn back to normal. You can also cast other fourth level spells, like Control Water for sailing, Fabricate to turn... barley, just looked it up, into kykeon. Or any raw materials into a finished product that is Large or smaller.

At eighth level, you get another ASI that'll let you max out your Intelligence for super strong spells. That, plus your curses, will make your polymorph super hard to resist. When you get it.

Ninth level wizards get fifth level spells, like Control Winds and Skill Empowerment, as well as Scrying.

A tenth level transmuter is a Shapechanger, giving you the polymorph spell for free. You can also cast it on yourself once per short rest for free, but only if you turn into something CR 1 or lower. Sadly Medea isn't a beast or CR 1, but it doesn't hurt to practice. Also, yeah! You can now turn pretty much anyone into a Pig (CR 0, so there’s no excuse) or if you want to weaponize it, a Giant Boar (CR 2). Just promise to turn them back if they do your bidding. Still only lasts an hour, but they don’t have to know that.

Eleventh level wizards get sixth level spells. There really isn’t anything specifically Circe-like I want at this level, so just grab whatever your heart wants. There will be time for specifics later.

At twelfth level you get another ASI, and since your intelligence is maxed out we can diversify. Grab the War Caster feat for advantage on concentration saves (very good for pigmaking), the ability to cast spells with your hands full (not applicable), and best of all, you can cast spells as opportunity attacks if that spell as an action casting time and targets a creature. Oh hey, guess what spell fits that description?

Thirteenth level casters get seventh level spells! Again, not necessarily anything you need from here, but Plane Shift is always cool. Maybe you can stumble onto the pig dimension or something.

Your last goody from the transmutation specialty is to become a Master Transmuter, burning your transmuter stone in one go for a burst of magical power. Afterwards, you can’t make a new one until you take a long rest. You can use this for a Major Transformation, permanently changing a medium or smaller nonmagical object into another of similar size & mass (you also can’t cheese value out of this) over the course of 10 minutes. Alternatively, you make a Panacea, removing all curses, diseases, and poisons from a single creature, while also healing it back to full health. That’s some good eating. Going even further, you can Restore Life to cast Raise Dead without a spell slot. Death is a pretty hard line in the Nasuverse, but if anyone could do it it’d probably be Circe. Finally, you can Restore Youth to reduce a creature’s age by 3d10 years without extending their lifespan. You’ve clearly used that on yourself a couple times, but I can’t blame you.

Fifteenth level wizards get eighth level spells, and for once there is something I want to get. You might not use Scylla in-game, but hey, giant sea monsters are cool, so use either Summon Greater Demon, Dominate Monster, or Illusory Dragon to get one, depending on your preferred method.

You get yet another ASI, so bump up your Constitution for better concentration and more health- remember, health gets added retroactively, so that’s 16 extra this level, not one.

At seventeenth level you finally get ninth level spells, giving you access to Mass Polymorph for a proper pig banquet. This one is limited to only half the targets’ levels, but a pig is still CR 0, so it shouldn’t be a big issue. However, if you’re feeling really cruel, you can use True Polymorph for a more... permanent solution. If you keep concentration up for a full hour, the change lasts until it is dispelled. You can also turn objects into creatures, or creatures into objects, but none of those are particularly in character.

Eighteenth level wizards get Spell Mastery, giving you a 1st & 2nd level spell that you can cast for absolutely free, no restrictions. You can always change it later, but I highly suggest Magic Missile so you always have some damage on standby, and Alter Self for the versatility of it.

Your penultimate level grants you your ultimate ASI, so bump up your Charisma for an easier time tricking sailors. It doesn’t do much for the build, but at this point it doesn’t need to.

Your final level of the build gives you two Signature Spells, 3rd level spells that you can cast once per short rest without spending a spell slot. Sadly polymorph is a fourth level spell so it isn’t in the running, but Bestow Curse and Tidal Wave are good runners up. I never said you had to be nice to sailors, just help them out occasionally.

Pros and Cons

Pros

Polymorph is one of the easiest ways to utterly shut down an enemy if it hits, at the very least buying you an hour to run away and regroup. It’s also very funny.

The Transmuter’s Stone is a very powerful support tool, protecting you and giving you healing options wizards don’t normally get. You also come loaded with tools like Skill Empowerment, which is just flexible enough to be useful even when you’re not on a ship.

You get concentration free flight, which is incredibly useful for a spellcaster. Being able to completely avoid an enemy’s front line and turn their back line into pigs is very useful.

Cons

The reason your flight being concentration free is such a big deal is because a lot of your spells use concentration. Honestly, your saves aren’t that bad (esp. with war caster) but it still limits your options, especially when your signature move requires concentration.

While your stone is powerful, it has a huge recharge time to contend with, requiring a long rest followed by an extra 8 hours of work, and the entire time between now and then you might as well not have a subclass. It’s a pretty harsh penalty for actually using your class feature.

It takes a while for this build to go from level one to casting polymorph, so if you want a build you can jump right into and feel like the character, this build definitely isn’t what you’re looking for.

#caster of okeanos #DND 5e #D&D #FGO #fate grand order #wizard

28 notes · View notes

smaidjor · 3 years

Text

and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door. “Thank you.”

“Don��t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

“No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #i maintag my fic because i dont fear god or scott smajor #my writing

27 notes · View notes

all-about-remadora · 3 years

Text

200 followers!

So here’s a list of One shots for celebrate✨

Everyone Deserves A Someone by LoquaciousLupin

With nothing better to do during the holidays at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny wonder whether their former Professor has a special someone - with no other ideas, they do the only thing they can and ask him. With a little help from Tonks, Remus answers their questions as honestly... as he can. Remus and Tonks fluff.

A Beautiful Tune by SweetDeamon

I'm...not coming." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "On the mission. With you." Tonks stared at him in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, grip upon the cloak in her hand going limp. Remus struggled to come up with a convincing lie. "Because I...I..." Because I'm dying. Because you've struck me dead in the heart.

The Unspeakable Girl by SweetDeamon

"She makes me feel so on top of this world that I wish I'd never been born into it in the first place! So I can't stand to talk about her, Dad! I simply can't!" In which Remus Lupin visits his father and confesses something quite extraordinary. Based on information from POTTERMORE. Consider yourselves warned. RLNT.

The Future's Not Ours To See by Gilpin

Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?

Rhapsody in Blue by copperbadg

Remus has decided it's time to cure Tonks of her awkwardness, the only way he knows how.

Kissing It Better by Lady Bracknell

On her first date with Remus, Tonks discovers that spilt beer on wooden floors is the enemy of the less than surefooted everywhere. Will she die of embarrassment, or will Remus find a way to make it all better?

Kiss and tell by Lady Bracknell

For all his supposed genius, Sirius Black had always had rather a blind spot for the patently obvious.

What To Make Of Him by Lady Bracknell

Neither Ted nor Andromeda know quite what to make of their daughter's boyfriend. Can he win them round over Sunday lunch?

On First Impressions by cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Fluffy oneshot.

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

The Talk, Or: The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Movement by MrsTater

Things appear to have changed. One shot, RLNT

Retrograde by MrsTater

Sequel to Movement: Tonks strongly suspected, though she hadn't much experience, that it wasn't normal for adults who fancied other adults to do what she was doing now.

Kernels by MrsTater

A Transfigured Hearts outtake: a cosy night in with Remus takes an unexpected turn when popcorn finds its way into odd places and leads Tonks to make an important discovery.

Party till the wolf comes by MrsTater

Fatherhood doesn't send Remus on a pub crawl, but announcing the birth of his son to his closest friends turns out to be the next best thing.

Overheard by MrsTater

Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007

The Honeymooners by MrsTater

Two years after their wedding, Remus and Tonks finally make it on their honeymoon. But now they've got something they didn't when they first married, will they be able to stop thinking about it long enough to enjoy themselves? AU

A Conversation That’s Not About Veela by starfishstar

Harry and Professor Lupin talk about women, and other things. During Christmas of HBP. (A gen story, but with very strong hints of Remus/Tonks and Harry/Ginny.)

Sleeping by starfishstar

Tonks sleeps; Remus muses

Precisely What I Mean by starfishstar

Remus with Teddy was easily the sweetest thing Tonks had ever seen. It seemed Remus couldn't ever hold Teddy without gazing down at his son with a huge, helpless, delighted grin. "Don't your cheeks ever get tired?" Tonks couldn't help teasing him once, and he'd glanced up, bewildered by the question – he didn't even realise he was doing it.

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

St. Margaret's by aegle

Remus, Tonks, a Muggle automobile, and a slightly disappointing beach adventure

On Bethlehem Down by aegle

Remus Lupin finds himself at Nymphadora Tonks' flat on Christmas Eve, 1996

The poem which i do not write by aegle

So, it has come to London with them, whatever it is.

The Watch by Sirussly

He'd grown so used to her endless chatter and relentless questions, a burning ball of energy with a laugh like her mother's. Some nights Tonks would listen to him instead, to stories of war and the price one pays for being a soldier in the middle of it. Occasionally neither of them would speak, but once her hand found his and stayed there until the sunrise coloured the sky.

Flame by Eat a Taco

It's strange what the soft light of a candle can do to someone.RLNT, sometime during HBP

Cover Me by Maggiemaye

Remus and Tonks embark on a mission that tests their well-established partnership to its limits. Even while surrounded by Death Eaters hidden in plain sight, they find that their greatest threats may come from within.

Expecto Patronum by Shimotsuki

Remus and Tonks have dinner at the Potters' after seeing Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. James and Al are full of questions, including one that not even Harry knows the answer to.

Meet the Reindeer by SweetDeamon

Nothing untoward had happened since Teddy had arrived home from Hogwarts for the holidays this year. So far there had been no manically jingling elves, no traumatised Santa Claus, no mass snowball fights, no exploding cans of fake snow and as of yet nothing had come hurtling down the chimney or splattered anything or anybody with ammunition of the culinary kind. So far. RLNT AU.

Meet the Teacher by SweetDeamon

In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.

A Study In Pink by SweetDeamon

"He isn't entirely sure how it is that a certain pink haired witch came to be lying snugly in the bed beside him yet again, or indeed why such a thing had ever occurred the first time around..." RLNT.

A Piece of Cake by SweetDeamon

"How long does it take to make a bloody sponge cake!" "You can't rush art, Sirius." Tonks attempts to bake Remus a birthday cake. "Attempts to" being the key phrase here... RLNT. Happy Birthday Gelly Bean!

The Christmas Waltz by Lady Bracknell

As Christmas approaches, Remus and Tonks dance around the idea of togetherness, wondering if either of them is leading, or know where they're going at all.

Mistletoe and Wine by Lady Bracknell

Remus falls foul of the mistletoe. Twice. RL/LP, RL/NT, LP/JP, rated for language.

Afraid of the Dark by Lady Bracknell

Remus had always been ill at ease in the forest, but when a mission for Dumbledore sends him into the heart of the place with Tonks by his side, he finds his apprehension harder than usual to shake off.

The Luck of the Draw by Lady Bracknell

She sits on the carpet, shuffles the cards, then deals them out. She came here with the hope of forcing the issue, because she just knows they shouldn't be about can't and won't.

Chione by: cafei-au-lei

Remus has confirmation that Tonks may return his feelings - now all that's left is to decide what to do with this rather exciting and terrifying information. And although it's been a strange year, this year's Christmas could shape up to be one of the best Remus has ever had. Takes place after "The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors." RLNT OotP holiday fluff.

The First Night by: cafei-au-lei

Most major events in Remus' life have done nothing but reinforce the crushing inevitability of his condition and the life that it has condemned him to. But maybe there is hope to be had, after all.

amare by: cafei-au-lei

At first, the idea that Tonks and Professor Lupin could be together was equal parts baffling and absurd. But then, maybe it did make a tiny bit of sense, Ginny thought, as she watched the way Professor Lupin looked at Tonks over the breakfast table. But she still couldn't help but think that this love and relationships thing was far too complicated. RLNT.

War Baby by MrsTater

It's time for Teddy's first outing, and for Tonks to make peace with a noble great idiot. Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Perchance To Dream by: MrsTater

A dream leads to an argument and an unexpected quest to seek out the meaning. Will Remus and Tonks kiss and make up? More importantly, who will come out on top? RLNT, Deathly Hallows, Mature.

Like a Cat in the Sun by starfishstar

Remus is in a house full of women.

#nymphadora tonks #remadora #remus lupin #remus x tonks #harry potter #allaboutremadora

108 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

Text

The Silmarillion as a TV/Netflix Show (Part 3)

Links to Part 1 and Part 2.

Part 3 is where Men show up, and this is the point where the time-frame issues around adapting The Silmarillion become really challenging. Because in Season 2, you could have longish periods of time passing, a season taking place over the space of decades, without really drawing attention to it - your characters don’t age. But unless you want to really draw out the events of the Silm, you’re going to end up with whole generations of Men aging and dying within the space of one season. Which does have the intriguing potential of essentially getting the audience to view Men - us - from the Elven perspective, and see the brevity of human life the way the elves percieve it. For the most part, I’ve dealt with the issue by shortening the time frame and incorporating one timeskip, so the events can be concentrated into two periods rather than spread out evenly over more than a century.

(Technically, there are also about 150 pretty quiet years between the end of the previous season and the start of this one. Whether we tell the audience that is an open question - on the one hand it could deflate the tension a little; on the other, it explains some things like Aredhel’s restlessness, which could come across badly if she’s pushing to leave the city just a couple episodes after it was established.)

Episode 1: Teenage Glaurung sneaks out of Angband and is driven back by Fingon and a party of horse-archers. This is an effective warning of things to come, as he’ll show up again at the end of the season in the Dagor Bragollach; plus, it lets the season get started off on an exciting note. Finrod and Thingol both have foreboding dreams (Finrod’s of the fall of Nargothrond and an oath; Thingol’s of trouble coming to Doriath from Men), and Finrod talks to Galadriel about him. Rumours reach Beleriand (likely via the dwarves, as Nogrod and Belegost have relations with Khazad-dum) of a new people on the other side of the mountains.

Episode 2: Finrod, on a visit to Maedhros and Maglor (and interesting in asking the Laiquendi about the new rumours) encounters Men in Ossiriand. The Laiquendi dislike them because they find them disruptive to nature, and Finrod negotiates that the Laiquendi will not bother them and that the Bëorings can establish a settlement further northwest, which becomes Estolad. Haleth’s people are in Ossiriand at the same time and settle in Caranthir’s lands; Caranthir tolerates/ignores them. At the end of the episode the people of Hador (much more military and well-armed) also arrive in Estolad.

Episode 3: Aredhel leaves Gondolin. The arrival of Men fits into this nicely, because it gives her an incentive beyond mere restlessness. What we see of her suggests she’s adventurous and impetuous, and she would be interested in meeting this new group of people, in addition to wanting to see her cousins. And she can make the case to Turgon that knowing more about them would be beneficial to Gondolin. Turgon lets her go partly because he can’t really stop her and partly because Idril has a foresight that Men will be beneficial to Gondolin in some way. Aredhel’s group encounters monsters in Nan Dungortheb; she survives (and has some exiting vattles with giant spiders and other unpleasant creatures) and makes it to Aglon; the rest of her company do not.

Various elves, curious about Men, visit Estolad, and we have several scenes of the various elven main characters (Sons of Fëanor; Fingolfin and Fingon; Thingol and Melian) discussing the situation.

Episode 4: Aredhel, on her way to see Estolad, attempts to cut through Nan Elmoth (seriously, it’s directly to the north of Estolad) and becomes lost. She meets Eöl. Whether there are plenty of different interpretations for their early relationship, I think it works best for the show (and gives Aredhel rather more agency, and makes Eöl less out-and-out evil) if they’re genuinely infatuated with each other at the beginning. Neither of them has met anyone quiet like the other before! Falling in live with a mysterious stranger does seem like a reasonably in-character thing for Aredhel to do. Let him tell her the story of how Thingol and Melian met (in those same woods) and make some appealingly-flattering comparisons. Leave it ambigous as to whether Aredhel’s inability to find a way out of Nan Elmoth is due to Eöl’s magic or to the general enchantment surrounding Nan Elmoth.

The Noldorin rulers of Hithlum and Dorthonion, both out of desire for closer relations between elves and men (it’s fascinating to finally meet the Secondborn!) and an understanding of their military value, invite the houses of Beör and Hador to live in those lands.

Episode 5: The Men of Estolad debate whether to accept the elven-lords’ invitations, or whether the presence of Angband makes Beleriand too dangerous and they should head back east of the mountains. We get the moment at a community meeting where someone who looks like Amlach claims that both the Valar and Morgoth are a fiction and the real problem is with the Eldar; but Amlach says he wasn’t there, to great discomfitment. Some of the Men leave for the east; some leave for the west; Anlach goes north and joins Maedhros’ forces.

The debate, while interesting, doesn’t fill an entire episode. There’s also room in this episode for the Orc attack on Haleth’s people, the death of her father and brother and her desperate defence; and their (belated) rescue by Caranthir.

Episode 6: Haleth’s people head west through Nan Dungortheb (with more battle sequences!), and after their arrival in Brethil, Finrod negotiates with Thingol to let them stay there. Some scenes with young Maeglin in Nan Elmoth, as several years have passed since the previous episode. The houses of Beör and Hador settle into Dorthonion and Dor-lómin, respectively.

Episode 7: Timeskip from the previous episode. Beör, now living in Nargothrond, is elderly, while his grandson Barahir rules the Edain in Dorthonion (yes, I think I’ve condensed things by a generation). Death of Bëor. In Dorthonion, Aegnor and Andreth meet, fall in love, and break up. The juxtaposition with Beör’s death highlights the difficulties inherent in relationships between elves and mortals.

Maeglin, now an adult, is becoming weary of life in Nan Elmoth and expresses interest in meeting Aredhel’s kinsfolk, including the Sonnof Fëanor. Eöl reacts sharply and threatens to chain him up if he tries it.

Fingolfin calls a council of the lords of the Noldor to discuss an assault on Angband aimed at going beyond a siege and winning the war.

Episode 8: The council of the Noldor-lords is held. Considerable debate about whether to try to outright overthrow Angband. Fingolfin, Fingon, Angrod, and Aegnor are in favour; the Fëanorians, Finrod, and Orodreth are opposed. (Turgon, obviously, is not present.) Maedhros in particular is opposed on the basis that it’s impossible, being the only member of the group who has actually seen the interior of Angband. The decisions is ultimately against a direct attack on Angband.

Aredhel and Maeglin talk, and it becomes apparent that both of them are feeling rather like prisoners and Aredhel misses her family and Gondolin (and sunlight, and freedom).

This episode is also a good place to introduce Beren as a young man, since he’ll be one of the main characters in the next season.

Episode 9: Eöl visits the dwarves in Nogrod for a midsummer feast; Aredhel and Maeglin take the opportunity to escape. Eöl follows them to Gondolin, is captured, tries to kill Maeglin, does kill Aredhel, and is executed. This is dramatic enough to trick the audience into thinking it’s the climax of the season (well, at least if they’re not very genre-savvy; the subject matter of the previous episode is what we call ‘a hint’.)

Episode 10: The early parts of the Battle of Sudden Flame (Dagor Bragollach): Glaurung (now full-grown), the deaths of Angrod and Aegnor, desperate fight of Maedhros to hold Himring in the east, defense of the fortresses of the Ered Wethrin in the west. Ends with the Duel of Fingolfin and Morgoth and Fingolfin’s body being brought to Gondolin. (Poor Turgon has now lost two immediate family members in the space of two episodes. This contributes to him feeling very attached to Maeglin, the one family member he’s gained.) Season ends with a final pan out from Gondolin to show the entire north being on fire and full of orcs.

This episode is going to need a serious special effects budget.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #edain #finrod #beör #aegnor #andreth #haleth #caranthir #aredhel #eöl #maeglin #thingol #my goodness these things ate my last two evenings #finished work ate dinner wrote a post and now it's sunset #adaptation

54 notes · View notes

comradelup · 4 years

Text

Julia would never describe death as enlightening. Quite the opposite, actually. Maybe… endarkening…. Point is, she never knew death until she died.

She opens her eyes on the shore of the astral sea. She feels bruised all over, and half her mind is still fast asleep. Groggy. That’s the word for it.

The sunless grey sky is above her, and the sound of lapping waves fill her ears. Sand surrounds her on the ground, and it’s almost comfortable, even if it may be getting in her hair. She doesn’t want to move, so she doesn’t.

A weird sense of familiarity washes over her as lazy as the waves. She’s been here before, right? Or perhaps she’s seen one too many friends and comrades die for death to be confusing and scary. Her most likely theory is that The Raven Queen does this to people to ease them into death after trauma.

She recalls the events before her death. Kalen returned with vengeance to blow up Raven’s Roost. She bets he was bitter about his loss and decided to erase any memory of his weakness. Well, he got his revenge. Julia tried to get as many people as she could out, but a whole building fell on her as a result. One of the two leaders of the revolution is dead. She’s only happy he didn’t get Magnus.

Magnus… she remembers him. A cheerful carpenter, a loving husband, a great crewmate.

Wait. What?

The memories trickle into her mind like a summer creek. The two of them in flowing red robes, standing somewhere up high. On the deck of some ship, but on land. Above land.

The Starblaster.

There were others too. Beautiful twin elves, a plain-looking human, a crunchy dwarf, a wallflower of a human, and a gnome captain. Their names hit her like arrows to the chest.

Taako. Lup. Barry. Merle. Lucretia. Davenport.

It comes back faster now. The flow quickens. The eight of them, on the Starblaster, on an endless mission. Images flash in her mind. Good times, bad times, laughter, love, screaming, crying. Life and death alike.

They were running from something, running to something else. But… what?

At least she knows why death is familiar. She’s died before. An explosion, an accidental poisoning, turning to a statue… death is an old friend in a way. She remembers her friends dying too. The four judges killing everyone but Lucretia. That time everyone but her, Lup, and Lucretia died so it was months of girls’ nights. One year the twins died and everyone else tried to cook like them but couldn’t, because who can cook like the twins?

These memories don’t quite feel like her own. She’s missing something. Lup and Barry trying to understand the chemical makeup of the Light of Creation. Merle dying so many times talking to John. Magnus died in the first cycle at the hands of The Hunger.

A weak groan escapes her and she closes her eyes. This is giving her a headache, trying to think through the static. Static… static…

Fischer! Her eyes snap open, arm frozen halfway to rubbing her temple. Death really is enlightening, the voidfish’s power doesn’t work on the dead. Somehow she forgot everything, or at least everything in Lucretia’s journals.

Oh, poor Lucretia. Now that it’s coming back to her, she remembers Lucretia bringing her and Magnus to Raven’s Roost, trying to hide her tears. She told them, this is where you’ve lived your whole lives, it’s not much, but it’s home. Julia retroactively corrects that no, the Starblaster is home, Lucretia is home, along with the rest of the crew. Lucretia must have erased their memories of their mission, but Julia can’t quite remember why. She can’t bring herself to be truly angry though; she loves Lucretia too much to be.

She starts to remember more recent details too. Lup… Lup went missing. She’s nowhere to be found, even with Barry and Taako’s rigorous searching. She went missing after the eight of them made the… the… the Grand Relics.

The dam breaks, and she knows everything— the Light of Creation, The Hunger, oh stars.

She lets her arm fall and stares up, letting all the sadness show on her face. The world might end, and no one else but a dead woman will know how to stop it. Not even, right? All she knows how to do is run away. This plane will be consumed and feasted upon until there’s nothing left, and she’ll be destroyed right with everyone el—

“Um, Julia?”

Julia cranes her head back towards the sound of the voice. Upside down, she sees a pair of fancy shoes and the hem of fancy slacks. They step closer and Julia looks up at the sky again as a face comes into view.

“You’re Julia Burnsides, right? Are you okay?” the man asks, and he’s handsome. Not the same rustic and warm handsomeness of Magnus, but a sharp, well dressed handsome. It isn’t her thing, but it’s hard to not admit that this guy is a looker. His long dreadlocks are pulled back in a half up half down style, and some of them fall over his shoulder as he looks down at her.

“I’m Julia,” she says, and her voice is raw. She coughs into her hand and he looks sympathetic. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Kravitz. Let me help you up.” He holds out a hand, and she takes it. It’s cold as shit but she doesn’t comment on it as he helps her stand.

Her body doesn’t like being vertical apparently. She now knows her bruises are the incorporeal equal of the injuries sustained from her death, and they make all movement painful. She wobbles a bit when on two feet and balances herself on Kravitz’s steady hand.

“Thanks,” she mutters through the pain, because her parents didn’t raise a rude girl.

“Of course,” Kravitz says, taking his hand back and using both hands to hold onto a sharp scythe taller than him. It’s actually about Julia’s height, as she stands a good few inches above him.

“There’s a bit of… an issue here,” he continues, “When a person dies, they either go into the astral sea or the eternal stockade. Or, in special cases, to the Raven Queen herself to discuss joining her retinue. You shouldn’t have ended up here.”

He’s saying a lot of words at once. Her head’s still swimming. She feels dizzy. Remembering a century all at once after a falling building killed you is… tough to handle all at once. And it's not the position she should be in when discussing… what was it? Death crimes? He mentioned a stockade, right?

“I… I should…” She brings a hand to her head and rubs the part of her temple that isn’t super bruised.

“You don’t look good, here.” Julia’s staring at the ground, blinking and trying not to sway, so she doesn’t see what he does. She hears fabric ripping, and he puts a cold hand on her shoulder.

“Step right through here,” he says, voice quiet. He seems tuned in to her headache and is accommodating, for which she's thankful.

She follows his direction, through a portal of sorts. One second she’s on a beach, the next she’s in a throne room, four stories tall. The floors and walls are black marble with an iridescent sheen to them. The far left wall is floor to ceiling windows, showing off the astral sea. It's beautiful, swirling rainbow waters with millions of lights floating above the surface. The sky is grey, but not like it’s covered by clouds, it’s naturally grey. Not a sun or cloud to be seen. In the window sills are ravens, hopping around or snoozing or watching her. All of them are silent in the presence of their queen.

The Raven Queen is hard to perceive. She is in the back of the room, on a large throne. Shadows cover that end of the room, so she can’t see the queen’s face. She does know she’s huge, though. Tens of feet tall, Julia guesses she’d be almost as tall as the throne room if she wasn’t sitting. She’s wearing an impeccable dark suit glittering with gold accents and jewelry. There are rings on her gloved fingers and bracelets on her wrists, and her hands sit on the arms of the throne. One leg is crossed over the other, letting a dark flowing cape pool at one foot.

In her presence, Kravitz kneels. Following, Julia does the same. He says, “My Queen, I found Julia Burnsides on the shore of the astral sea, disoriented and in pain. I don’t know what her soul’s fate is, so I come to you for guidance.”

Julia stays quiet, looking at the floor. She can kind of see her reflection, and sees that her face isn’t as beat up as it feels. In fact, it’s completely free of injury. She’s also wearing her IPRE robe. Huh.

After a moment of silence, The Raven Queen speaks. “Julia Burnsides, you have died twenty-two times, including your most recent death.”

Julia looks up to the queen and sees Kravitz staring at her bewildered out of the corner of her eye. She can’t see the queen’s expression, but her voice makes her sound accusatory. So Julia nods, unsure of what else to say.

“Yet… you have entered the Astral Plane every time. You also never escaped the plane. That is an anomaly.”

“I can explain, your majesty.” Julia remembers other Astral Planes too, with the occasional alternate death deities. At least in this plane, it’s The Raven Queen and not that other one, The King of Death and Insects. She hates bugs.

“Please do.” The queen waves a hand, and two armchairs appear, with a coffee table in front of them. Julia takes the silent invitation and moves to sit down in one. Two mugs of tea appear and she takes one. What's most strange is Kravitz seems more confused than her as he does the same. Julia must be a real edge case.

She takes a sip of tea and feels the warmth travel down her throat into her stomach, then spread to her whole body. It seeps away the pain and clears her head, making her sigh in relief and relax into her seat.

“Now,” The Raven Queen says, “explain your deaths.” She holds up a palm in her direction and pushes it towards her. Julia feels a breeze blow past her as a Zone of Truth appears around her. Admittedly, she’s developed a familiarity with it thanks to Merle, but she lets the spell affect her this time. She has no reason to lie to a queen.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” Julia says. If only she had Lucretia’s journals and could read them to the queen. “Do you know about the multiverse theory?”

She goes on to explain everything from the beginning. Where she's really from, the Light of Creation landing on her home plane, and the original mission of the IPRE. The Hunger and how it interrupted this mission, the cycles that brought her and her family from the dead. She even explains that this is the first death where she wasn’t put into the astral sea. (Except for that one time she and Barry ended up in that plane’s stockade, though. It was only an experiment gone wrong, after all, so why include it?)

All of this is new information for The Raven Queen and Kravitz, but it feels new to Julia too. For some of the details she says them without thinking and then reflects on them. Taako made a fake Light of Creation? Oh right, he did!

After she’s done explaining, she sits back, taking a big sip of her tea. Her cup never seems to empty and for that, she’s glad, because every sip brings back that warm feeling in this cold, dead plane.

Kravitz looks bewildered and intrigued by the story, but also says nothing. The Raven Queen is quietly contemplative for a moment, then says, “Those relics are causing a lot of death. You created them?”

Julia flushes. “Yes, your majesty, but we didn’t mean to cause wars. The Light of Creation needs to be needed, so we tried to make intriguing objects. They ended up using the people wielding them instead of the other way around.” She looks down into her lap, staring at the tea swirling in the mug. Voice low, she adds, “We would never do that to so many innocent people.”

She can tell she brought down the mood of the room, evidenced by Kravitz’s kind of awkward look as he clearly doesn’t know how to make her feel better. She can’t bring herself to care though. Maybe ignorance really is blissful, she was happiest she’s been in decades when all she knew was Raven’s Roost.

“Things like this are rarely intentional,” The Raven Queen says, her tone somber. “These objects, they are an affront to the nature of life and death. They are an insult to my domain.”

“You’re really good at cheering people up, you know that?” Julia deadpans, apathetically staring at her drink. Kravitz stares at her with wide eyes.

“I am saying this to ask: can you stop these objects from killing people?” The Raven Queen asks.

“I… imagine that we could. We’ve handled the Light so much that we are more or less immune to it’s craveability.”

“I’m sorry, ‘craveability?’” Kravtiz interjects. Julia nods, sipping her tea.

“So your living crewmates could put an end to these wars?” The Raven Queen asks.

“They’re the only ones who can,” Julia says.

The Raven Queen is silent for another moment. Then, “Until all Grand Relics are collected and disposed of, your family’s bounties will be called off.”

Julia sighs, relieved, and sags into her seat. Then sits back up. “But what will happen to me?”

“You cannot influence the Prime Material Plane anymore. You have the option of joining the astral sea, or lessening your family’s sentence by serving time yourself.”

“But their deaths are like mine. They didn’t escape the Astral Planes willingly and you technically can’t punish them.”

Kravitz looks at her like she’s walking into a volcano and expecting to live. She gets it, she knows she’s talking back to a goddess, but she doesn’t care.

“Lup Hallwinter and Sildar Hallwinter are liches, and they will be punished accordingly.”

“Just call them— ugh—” Julia huffs a sigh and sags into her chair in frustration. She puts her cup down and says, “They did it ethically, for the greater good. Lup and Barry were able to do so much good without death to stop them!”

“There is a reason death stops them. Everyone thinks they have a good reason to cross me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them!” Julia shouts, standing. Kravitz stands too, scythe at the ready. Julia pays him no mind, pointing a finger at the queen. “You OWE them!”

The air is still. Kravitz is ready to strike at the queen’s order. Julia doesn’t give a shit. Goddess or not, she can’t act like she knows Barry and Lup enough to just declare their fates. Other liches? Yeah, they’re almost always corrupt and selfish, but what Lup and Barry did is selfless if anything.

“There is no point in arguing. Make your choice.”

Julia raises her chin defiantly. The same look she’s given corrupt warlords and wealthy industrialists, the look she’d give John if she met him rather than Merle. The queen is unmoving and Julia knows her effort is futile, at least now. She crosses her arms. “I’ll serve their sentence.”

“It’s decided then. Julia Burnsides, you will begin training as a Reaper, serving the sentences of Lup and Sildar Hallwinter. Reaper Kravitz, you will train her."

#REBLOGS > LIKES lol #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #taz julia #balance #julia #txt #writing #8th bird julia #is my fave #i love her so much #and reaper julia!! the potential is delicious #life after death

28 notes · View notes

arda-tourism-board · 4 years

Text

My writing (part 1)

I know nobody wants to hear about it, but I've been writing the same stories but slightly to the left each time since 2013 so I may as well share them. I haven't published anything, but i’m hoping to one day.

Also every time i do “quotes” it’s not a quote it’s just words to that effect.

Lillith (part 1)

Lillith (More/many) and Lucian (either enchantment or indebted) (the names were a joke about chosen ones that got out of hand), twin descendants of Arwen and Aragorn, recieve a Silmaril in their parent's will and they now have to hide it. An accident throws them back to the year 2000, before they've even been born, and they suddenly have to navigate the year in a new country, discovering the truth behind their long lost heritage while dodging the unawakened reborn Fëanorions and their "father", Kane Fey.

They start this by almost being run over by Nimrodel, who takes them in for some reason without question.

They don’t recognise them at first in the slightest, and Lucian (now Lukas) strikes up a friendship with “Tyler” before Nimrodel strikes it down.

They manage to befriend them, but things get more complicated when the eldest, "Russell," begins to remember who he was, and seems to recognise Lillith and her real name.

Without the binding of the oath, the Fëanorions are friendlier, less rageful, but their past life haunts them.

Lillith is apparently almost identical to someone they knew in Aman, who had a long affair and children with Caranthir, and disappeared with them around three years before the death of Finwë.

Lillith, who remembers nothing of this, and is most definitely human, is confused to say the least, but they just chalk it down to coincidence.

She and Caranthir - Matt - get closer anyway, but it doesn't work out because she feels he's trying to replace her with her apparent double.

Lucian gets involved with Idrillien - explain later - and begins getting involved with rediscovering their heritage even more. Lillith avoids them due to the political issues surrounding the Silmaril, opting to hide it instead.

Cut to 2020. Lillith has the Silmaril, and an accident occurs where she, her younger self, and her brother, are thrown back in time. This completes the 2020-2000 loop, and starts an 80,000 year loop.

Lillith (part 2) girl falls into middle earth is like, my brand.

Lillith is under a land with only starlight, the desert surrounding her and the only thing in her possession being the Silmaril.

In a fit of madness she eats it (yes I know the plot point is weird but stick with me). This connects her to the two trees, and gives her youth.

She eventually finds her way out of the desert and reaches the path of Eldar heading to Aman.

She joins them, learning the language with them and realising that she's in Arda. This is confirmed when they encounter Oromë, and he points at her and goes "wtf you're not an elf."

She ends up living in Alqualondë, but when she meets a young Morifinwë, she realises that the person she'd been jealous of and thought he was trying to replace her with was herself.

They have three children. Lillith refuses marriage. Marriage would bind her to stay by his side, and she knows what's coming next.

She steals her daughters away to Ennor, and spend the rest of her days in Rhûn, avoiding watching the inevitable.

In the end she falls in love with a Lindi (Nandorin) elleth, Ovranen (abound). Together they travel the world, visiting the most Eastern and Southern continents, eventually returning to Arda and Lillith finally meets Arwen and Aragorn, and finds out the fate of her daughters.

The first, named Helleneth (Sky Maiden), went to Doriath, and met and married Thranduil, a Sindarin Lord. She met her fate to grief from the loss of her fourth child, stolen from the crib (plot point for later on). At this, she confessed her heritage and was banished from Eryn Lasgalen, but an incident meant that everyone thought she was dead. She travelled to the Grey Havens under a new name, Lalyanon (traveller), and sailed home.

The second, named Kemeninya (Earth maiden), stayed in the North, living in Gondolin for a time, but when it fell, ran Northwards, eventually joining with the rangers of the North.

The third, named Rúnanen (freer), eventually rejoined with her father, and joined the Ñoldorin cause. She met the same fate as her father, run through with a sword, but instead dying at the gates of Sirion.

Lillith visits Kemeninya, now going by Dolenath (hidden), and they reconnect.

Lillith and Ovranen then recount their travels for archive, and then continue to travel, never settling down.

80,000 years old, Lillith calls on Nimrodel, and asks her for a favour. Take care of her brother.

Lost

I know crossovers are literally the worst thing in the world but I don't care so you can pry this one from my cold, dead, hands. There’s some romance in this one, but it doesn’t come until much, much, later.

Haruka, a Jedi master, on the run from the Empire, discovers a backwater world where she can disguise herself perfectly. Almost too perfectly. The customs throw her at first but she’s trained to adapt to anything.

She clips a translator to her ear, and she gets a job as a servant in Imladris.

Everyone thinks she's really young, and they're right. She's 32, and elves aren't fully matured until they're 50, but nobody told her that. She wasn't even aware she shared a species with them. Or anyone.

She's more concerned about the fact she needs to hide her left leg because it's made of metal and could rat her out to one of the very criminal merchants that could know about the Empire’s very large bounty on her head.

She does manage to evade the merchants, but when she leaves her leg on her bed at some point she has to explain that,,, maybe she isn’t local.

A diplomatic visit from Eryn Lasgalen in the form of the Crown Prince does change things though. Celeberyn points straight at Haruka and goes “you look exactly like my little brother. That’s weird.”

She’s panicking now because she actually has no idea where she came from, and just nods, and goes, “cool.”

Internally she’s freaking out because he mentioned that said brother had a missing identical twin (yes, you heard me, identical) and now she’s trying to figure out if she’s ok to exist here, cause she’s come across a lot of cultures and there isn’t a 100% track record with that.

After a long day of asking people random questions, she figures out that she’s fine here.

Her translator chip finally breaks (one of the twins stepped on it) and she just doesn’t talk to anyone for a month straight.

She turns 50, and offhandedly mentions it to someone because she’s kinda surprised she hasn’t aged yet and they just go what

Turns out she’s meant to go to school and stuff. And learn to write. That isn’t a class thing here, so they’re super concerned because this is a baby and she only has one leg and can’t write who did this to her

Turns out going “oh yeah I was a general in this war” when prompted to explain the situation has so many questions raised.

Everything is pieced together between her and Lisbeth, the youngest after her, in a clearing.

Turns out Haruka is the long lost twin “prince” of Eryn Lasgalen, stolen by someone looking to make a quick buck by selling her to the Jedi because of her hypersensitivity to the force. (elves are born very far and few between)

She swears Lisbeth to secrecy, but it all comes out when Legolas visits Imladris and demands to speak to her.

Turns out they’re linked, even across galaxies, and whenever she went through great physical or emotional trauma, he felt it, but Haruka learned to block out her emotions a long time ago, so never felt any of his. (Turns out that’s why her phantom pains are so realistic, because she was feeling the sensations on his leg to compensate.)

She is unable to deny the fact of her identity now, but she (rightly) refuses to go by her birth name, mainly because Haruka has been her name from the start anyway (it’s gender neutral).

She decides instead of facing her family, she’ll go back into space (because flat earth arda for elves is a mindset and she’s never even heard of it).

She manages (somehow) to find a merchant, and doesn’t realise she’s been followed by Elrohir until she’s dropped off on Lothal and he taps her on the shoulder like “hey where are we and what are all these creatures i’m scared”

She drags him with her to meet with the new Republic, and she gets a new translator chip, leg, and dyes her hair for fun (this is stressful she deserves the dark blue hair).

They eat lunch at a street café, and have a long conversation about Haruka’s torrid backstory. They don’t bond, but they do become friends.

Before, their dynamic was “random servant number 5″ and “lord” but now it’s “jedi master” and her “friend who only knows three words.”

She offers to take him home, but he declines on the basis that home will be there a lot longer than this will.

They start working together at the new republic. Turns out Elrohir makes an excellent fake body guard (he can fight but that’s not the point), and Haruka helps bring some of the old Jedi practices into the new order.

When the new jedi order falls, Haruka steals as many of the students away and takes them and Elrohir back to Arda.

They chill out in Imladris, hiding out for a few years before Haruka remembers that she left because she was avoiding the whole family situation, and has to confront the fact that she is royalty, and finally meets her dad (her mother’s fate is discussed above).

It goes a lot better than expected. The first thing he asks about is why she’s a woman, and it’s awkward, but they eventually fall into a good conversation.

Haruka thinks, “hey, maybe I can exist here in a family.”

But at the same time she’s got her found family in Imladris (cause you know she basically got adopted the minute she, a child, mentioned that she’d been in a war) (have i read too many salvage fics? yes. will i now compare elrond to hakoda? yes. you saw it here first folks only in this story she’s adopted by the entire serving staff.)

Haruka doesn’t venture to the stars for another for hundred years. For now, she’s just content on Arda. She takes to the stars again sometime after the end of the third age, now bored and eager to explore again. Elrohir comes with her. Together they build a new found family and crew, exploring the galaxy.

Part 2 coming soon

#my writing

16 notes · View notes

serialreblogger · 4 years

Note

You want to talk more about the bigotry in Harry Potter? Go ahead! I've actually heard stuff like that before, but have yet to do much research on it personally and it's been a while since I read it, so I'm interested.

WELL

Before we begin I should start with a disclaimer: this analysis will be dedicated to examining as many bigoted aspects of Harry Potter’s writing as I can think of, so--while I personally am more or less comfortable balancing critical evaluation with enjoyment of a piece, and strongly advocate developing your own abilities to do the same--I know not everyone is comfortable reading/enjoying a story once they realize its flaws, and again, while I think it’s very important to acknowledge the flaws in culturally impactful stories like Harry Potter, I also know for some people the series is really really important for personal reasons and whatnot.

So! If you’re one of those people, and you have trouble balancing critical engagement with enjoyment, please feel free to skip this analysis (at least for the time being). Self-care is important, and it’s okay to find your own balance between educating yourself and protecting yourself.

On another note, this is gonna be limited strictly to morally squicky things to do with Rowling’s writing and the narrative itself. Bad stuff characters do won’t be talked about unless it’s affirmed by the narrative (held up as morally justified), and plot holes, unrealistic social structures, etc. will not be addressed (it is, after all, a kid’s series, especially in the first few books. Quidditch doesn’t have to make sense). This is strictly about how Rowling’s personal biases and bigotry impacted the story and writing of Harry Potter.

Sketch Thing #1: Quirrell! I don’t see a lot of people talking about Quirrell and racism, but I feel like it’s a definite thing? Quirinus Quirrell is a white man who wears a turban, gifted to him by an “African prince” (what country? where? I couldn’t find a plausible specific when I was researching it for a fic. If there’s a country which has current/recent royalty that might benevolently interact with someone, and also a current/recent culture where turbans of the appropriate style are common, I couldn’t find it). Of course, it wasn’t actually given to him by an African prince in canon, but it’s still an unfortunate explanation.

More importantly, ALL the latent Islamophobia/xenophobia in the significance of the turban. Like, look at it.

“Man wears turban, smells like weird spices, turns out to be concealing an evil second face under the turban” really sounds like something A Bit Not Good, you know? If you wanted to stoke the flames of fear about foreignness, it would be hard to do it better than to tell children about a strange man who’s hiding something horrible underneath a turban.

Also, Quirrell’s stutter being faked to make you think he was trustworthy is a very ableist trope, and an unfortunately common one. “Disability isn’t actually real, just a trick to make you accommodate and trust them” is not a great message, and it’s delivered way too often by mass media. (Check out season 1 of the Flash for another popular example.)

Sketch Thing #2: The goblins. Much more commonly talked about, in my experience, which is good! The more awareness we have about the messages we’re getting from our popular media, the better, in my view.

For those who haven’t encountered this bit of analysis before: the goblins in Harry Potter reek of antisemitic stereotypes. Large ears, small eyes, crooked noses, green/gray skin, lust for money, control of the banks, and a resentful desire to overthrow the Good British Government? Very reminiscent of wwii propaganda posters, and in general the hateful rhetoric directed towards Jewish people by other European groups from time immemorial.

I’m also extremely uncomfortable with how goblin culture is handled by Rowling in general. Like, the goblins were a people that were capable of using magic, but prohibited by the British government from owning wands. That was never addressed. They also had a different culture around ownership, which is why Griphook claimed that the sword of Gryffindor belonged rightfully to the goblins--a gift isn’t passed down to descendants upon death, but instead reverts to the maker. This cultural miscommunication is glossed over, despite the fact that it sounds like Griphook’s voicing a very real, legitimate grievance.

To be honest, apart from the antisemitism, the way Goblin culture is treated by the narrative in Harry Potter is very uncomfortably reminiscent to me of how First Nations were treated by English settlers in North America, before the genocide really got started. The Goblins even have a history of “rebellions,” which both raises the question of why another species is ruling them to begin with, and more significantly, is eerily reminiscent of the Red River Rebellion in Canada (which, for the record, wasn’t actually a rebellion--it was Metis people fighting against the Canadian government when it tried to claim the land that legally, rightfully belonged to the Metis. But that’s another story)

In sum: I Don’t Like the implications of how Rowling treats the goblins.

Sketch Thing #3: Muggles. Ok because we’re all “muggles” (presumably) and because I’m white, talking about this might rapidly degenerate into thinly-veiled “reverse racism” discourse, so please y’all correct me if I stray into that kind of colossal stupidity. However, I am not comfortable with the way non-magical humans are treated by Rowling’s narrative.

The whole premise of Harry Potter is that Evil Wizards Want To Hurt The Muggles, right? Except that it’s not. Voldemort’s goal is to subjugate the inferior humans, rule over non-magical people as the rightful overlords, but that’s hardly mentioned by the narrative. Instead, it focuses on the (also egregious and uncomfortably metaphorical) “blood purism” of wizarding culture, and how wizards would be persecuted for their heritage.

But muggles, actual muggles, are arguably the ones who stand to lose the most to Voldemort, and they’re never notified of their danger. We, the muggles reading it, don’t even really register that we’re the collateral damage in this narrative. Because throughout the series, muggles are set up as laughingstocks. Even the kindest, most muggle-friendly wizards are more obsessed with non-magical people as a curiosity than actually able to relate to them as people.

I dunno, friends, I’m just uncomfortable with the level of dehumanization that’s assigned to non-magical humans. (Like, there’s not even a non-offensive term for them in canon. There’s “muggle,” which is humorously indulgent at best and actively insulting at worst, and there’s “squib,” which is literally the word for a firework that fails to spark.) It’s not like “muggles” are actually a real people group that can be oppressed, and like I said this kind of analysis sounds a bit like the whining of “reverse racism” advocates where the powerful majority complains about being insulted, but... it kind of also reeks of ableism. People that are not able to do a certain cool, useful thing (use magic) are inherently inferior, funny at best and disposable at worst. They suffer and die every day from things that can easily be cured with magic, but magic-users don’t bother to help them, and even when they’re actively attacked the tragedy of hundreds dying is barely mourned by the narrative.

It gives me bad vibes. I don’t Love It. It sounds uncomfortably like Rowling’s saying “people that are unable to access this common skill are inherently inferior,” and that really does sound like ableism to me.

Either way, there’s something icky about consigning an entire group of people to the role of “funny clumsy stupid,” regardless of any real-world connections there may or may not be to that people group. Don’t teach children that a single genetic characteristic can impact someone’s personhood, or make them inherently less worthy of being taken seriously. Just, like... don’t do that.

Sketch Thing #4: The house elves. Everyone knows about the house elves, I think. The implications of “they’re slaves but they like it” and the only person who sees it as an issue having her campaign turned into a joke by the narrative (“S.P.E.W.”? Really? It might as well stand for “Stupidly Pleading for Expendable Workers”) are pretty clear.

Sketch Thing #5: Azkaban. Are we gonna talk about how wizarding prison involves literal psychological torture, to the point where prisoners (who are at least sometimes there wrongly, hence the plot of book 3) almost universally go “insane”? This is sort of touched on by the narrative--“dementors are bad and we shouldn’t be using them” was a strongly delivered message, but it was less “because torturing people, even bad people, is not a great policy” and more “because dementors are by their natures monstrous and impossible to fully control.”

“This humanoid species is monstrous and impossible to control” is, once again, a very concerning message to deliver, and it doesn’t actually address the real issue of “prison torture is bad, actually.” Please, let’s not normalize the idea that prison is inherently horrific. Of course, prison as it exists in North America and Britain is, indeed, inherently horrific and often involves torture (solitary confinement, anyone?), but like--that’s a bad thing, y’all, it’s deeply dysfunctional and fundamentally unjust. Don’t normalize it.

Sketch Thing #6: Werewolves. Because Rowling explicitly stated that lycanthropy in her series is a metaphor for “blood-borne diseases like HIV/AIDS”. The linked article says it better than I could:

Rowling lumps HIV and AIDS in with other blood-borne illnesses, which ignores their uniquely devastating history. And Lupin’s story is by no stretch a thorough or helpful examination of the illness. Nor is its translation as an allegory easily understood, beyond the serious stigma that Rowling mentioned.

That Lupin is a danger to others could not more clearly support an attitude of justifiable fear toward him, one that is an abject disservice to those actually struggling with a disease that does not make them feral with rage.

This definitely ties into homophobia, given how deeply the queer community has been affected by HIV/AIDS. Saying a character with a condition that makes him an active threat to those around him is “a metaphor for AIDS” is deeply, deeply distressing, both for its implications about queer people and their safety for the general population, and for the way it specifically perpetuates the false belief that having HIV/AIDS makes a person dangerous.

Sketch Thing #7: Blood Ties. This isn’t, like, inherently sketch, but (especially for those of us with complicated relationships to our birth families) it can rub a lot of people the wrong way. Rowling talks a big talk about the folly of “blood purism,” but she also upholds the idea that blood and blood relations are magically significant.

Personally, I’m very uncomfortable with the fact that Harry was left with an abusive family for his entire childhood, and it was justified because they were his “blood relatives.” I’ve had this argument with ultra-conservative family friends who genuinely believe it’s a parent’s right to abuse their child, and while I don’t think that’s what Rowling is saying, I do feel uncomfortable with the degree of importance she places on blood family. I’m uncomfortable with the narrative’s confirmation that it is acceptable (even necessary) to compromise on boundaries and allow the continuation of abuse because “it’s better for a child to be raised by their Real Family” than it is to risk them to the care of an unrelated parent.

Genetic relations aren’t half as important as Rowling tells us. For people with a bad birth family, this can be a damaging message to internalize, so I’ll reiterate: it’s a pretty thought, the love in blood, but it’s ultimately false. The family you build is more real, more powerful and more valid than any family you were assigned to by an accident of genes.

I can think of one or two more things, but they’re all a lot more debatable than what I have here--as it is, you might not agree with everything I’ve said. That’s cool! I’m certainly not trying to start a fight. We all have the right to read and interpret things for ourselves, and to disagree with each other. And again, I’m not trying to ruin Harry Potter. It’s honestly, as a series, not worse in terms of latent bigotry than most other books of its time, and better than many. It’s just more popular, with a much bigger impact and many more people analyzing it. I do think it’s important to critically evaluate the media that shapes one’s culture, and to acknowledge its shortcomings (and the ways it can be genuinely harmful to people, especially when it’s as culturally powerful as Harry Potter). But that doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t enjoy it for what it was meant to be: a fun, creative, engaging story, with amazing characters, complex plots, heroism and inspiration for more than one generation of people.

Enjoy Harry Potter. It is, in my opinion, a good series, worth reading and re-reading for enjoyment, even for nourishment. It’s also flawed. These things can both be true.

#harry potter #linden writes an essay #long post #THANK YOU for the ask lunar i am SO HAPPY to write all this #i do hope i didn't offend anyone though #please let me know if i've been unintentionally racist y'all i'm white as rice and very willing to learn and grow #also i think it's possible i missed mentioning something glaring because like. harry potter is good but jk rowling is... not #but i think i got most of my thoughts down #harry potter meta #racism #homophobia #bigotry #ask linden #jk rowling

33 notes · View notes

the-light-followed · 4 years

Text

EQUAL RITES (1987) [DISC. #3; WITCHES #1]

“‘Where does it say it?’ said Granny triumphantly. ‘Where does it say women can’t be wizards?’

The following thoughts sped through Cutangle’s mind:

…It doesn’t say it anywhere, it says it everywhere.

…But young Simon seemed to say that everywhere is so much like nowhere that you can’t really tell the difference.

…Do I want to be remembered as the first Archchancellor to allow women into the University? Still…I’d be remembered, that’s for sure.”

Rating: 6/10

Standalone Okay: Yes

Read First: Yeah, if you like magic and bad puns, you’ll be fine.

Discworld Books Masterpost: [x]

* * * * * * * * * *

Equal Rites does not mess around. It’s early Discworld, so you’ve still got a little bit of that High Fantasy vibe to it, where sometimes Pratchett just spews fantastical-sounding terms and concepts so that the reader can’t forget that This is Fantasy, We Are Not in Kansas Anymore, Folks! And to be perfectly honest, a lot of the plot, especially the early stuff, is kind of forgettable. There’s a lot of people talking to people about doing stuff before the actual doing gets done, if you know what I mean.

But that doesn’t really matter, because Equal Rites has important shit to say and, by god, Pratchett is going to say it. And in case you didn’t bother to read the book itself, you can tell just by looking at the title that a) it’s about gender inequality in the magical community, and b) there’s going to be puns. So many puns. Sir Terry, please, take pity on me. I just don’t have the time to go around explaining to every person I meet on the street why this kind of thing makes me absolutely batshit feral for the Discworld.

I love it so much.

Anyway. Equal Rites is the story of Eskarina Smith, or Esk, the first ever female to be born a wizard. The whole concept of ‘the eighth son of an eighth son is chosen by the magical staff of a dying wizard to become a new wizard’ brings up a lot of questions for me—a lot of questions that will never be answered—but if I ignore that and just accept that it’s true, then by Discworld tradition Esk is undeniably a wizard. She is the eighth, uh, child of an eighth son, chosen at birth by the magical staff of a wizard who promptly dies and decides to be reincarnated as a weirdly randy tree and then, later, as an ant.

…Cool, I guess.

More importantly, and also by Discworld tradition, Esk undeniably cannot be a wizard, because she’s born female. Honestly, Pratchett might as well have named this Sit Down and Shut Up While I Talk About Gender Roles and Gender Inequality, You All Are Going to Listen to Me Because I’m Going to Make Bad Puns While I Do It.

Over the course of the book, Pratchett does some deep dives into what it means to be a witch, what it means to be a wizard, how they’re the same, how they’re different—and why none of that actually matters. For something published over thirty years ago, I think Equal Rites holds up incredibly well as a conversation on gender and society, and it’s still just as relevant as ever. It just goes to show that a) writing with thought, kindness, and care makes for a timeless product, and b) society really hasn’t made that much progress since 1987, has it? It’s a little sad that the issues Pratchett wants us to think about here are still just as recognizable and just as common in the world as they were thirty-three years ago.

(Kind of as a side note, there are definitely things I don’t think Pratchett considered about the basic premise he’s set up, namely that just because Esk was born with a certain set of genitals, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything about her gender. I’ve seen a lot of discussion, especially on the internet, about trans Esk, and trans wizards and witches, and what that would mean for the Discworld universe—really interesting stuff, things people should definitely look into, but not what I’m going to focus on here. I would highly recommend that people think about it, especially cis people like me. It would be wrong to go through Equal Rites without even bringing it up, even if I read the text as more as a discussion of gender roles rather than gender identity. Since Pratchett was a cishet man writing this in the 80s, I’m also willing to bet it’s what he was intending. But it’s still an important conversation to have.)

Anyway, let’s jump in and look at the dichotomy that Pratchett is setting up for us!

What is a witch? What is a wizard? How are they the same, and how are they different? Why does that split matter?

I did the messy work of going through my copy of the book and highlighting every instance where definitions are provided for ‘witches’ and ‘wizards,’ specifically so that I could run a compare-contrast, and I want to point out right off the bat that basically all of the details on so-called ‘defining’ features of these two schools of magic are provided through characters and their POV—direct dialogue and thoughts—not by word-of-god narration or omniscient POV. So, obviously, we have to run all this through the internal bias filter; this stuff is all what people believe about wizards, witches, and magic, not necessarily how things are.

What makes a witch, according to Equal Rites:

Magic out of the ground

Dress in black to look the part

Witches bow. They’ve got to be different from everyone else; it’s “part of the secret” (headology)

Cunning, old (or they try to look it)

Suspicious, homely, and organic magic

Appearance of magic can do more work than actual magic (headology)

“Leaving the world as it was and changing the people”

They can “Borrow” and work gently

“Fighting her [Granny] was like swatting a fly on your own nose”: if you don’t struggle and make waves, you can do a lot with less outright power

Do the messy, practical stuff, not just the flash

Always, “without exception, women”

What makes a wizard:

Magic out of the sky

Over-the-top ways of dressing up to look the part, often with robes and sequins

“Books and stars and jommetry.” (Granny absolutely does not know what geometry is, or what it is for.)

“Talked too much and pinned spells down in books like butterflies,” and looked at “numbers and angles and edges and what the stars are doing”

Wise, old

Powerful, complex, and mysterious magics

Magic is condensed out of the air and into the staff, and used by the wizard

“Magic changed the world in some way, wizards thought there was no other use for it”

Can’t “Borrow,” only take/seize control

Too busy with the “infinite” and “never noticing the definite”

Always, “without exception, men”

Witches “normally work with what actually exists in the world,” while a wizard can give thoughts shape, “put flesh on his imagination.” Witches learn to walk softly and move over and around an obstacle, while wizards puff up and fight to go straight through it.

Witches “need a head.” Wizards “need…a heart.”

In short, witches are self-taught, intuitive, grounded in reality, and fluid in their magic use—when they actually use it at all. They work with what they feel and what they know about the world. Wizards are academics and learn from set rules and their books, and their magic is often over-complex, overpowered, and difficult to control. Wizards are more rigid and structured in their magic use—ritualistic, even—but less connected to reality or grounded in the real world.

And, of course, both groups wear fabulous outfits and dramatic pointed hats!

Just look at ‘em. Such wonderful weirdos.

The more I look at the ‘definitions’ like this, all laid out and proper, the more I start to think that the witches who do things we would consider ‘bad’ witchcraft are just correctly using elements of wizardry. For example, think about Mrs. Earwig, with her books and rituals, her special tools and fancy dress code; even though she doesn’t focus on the world around her or the people in it, the way a ‘good’ witch would, she’s good at what she does, and so certain in herself that she can stare down the glamor of the Queen of the Elves without flinching in The Shepherd’s Crown. On the other hand, we have our classic ‘bad’ wizard, Rincewind, who demonstrates some exceptionally witchy tendencies—he’s excellent at headology even if actual magic isn’t really in his wheelhouse, as Interesting Times makes pretty obvious. And despite the fact that he’s a coward-sprinter who’d really rather avoid danger if at all possible, when it comes down to it, he’s still the man who’ll put himself between the world and a great evil with nothing but trembling knees, a spine reluctantly turned from water to iron, and a half-brick in a sock. As Granny would say, he walks the line.

So, really, what does gender actually have to do with it? Why is there a distinction at all? Is it actually important?

And to make a long novel short, what Pratchett is saying in Equal Rites is that it’s not. There’s no difference between witchcraft and wizardry that actually makes for a good reason for a gendered split. Men aren’t inherently better at math and academia, or as Granny says, “jommetry;” women aren’t inherently more practical, emotional, or intuitive. That’s a social construct, not a biological one.

And beyond that, even, there’s no real reason for the two ‘types’ of magic to be split up at all. They might be different ways of operating, but it’s all magic. Anyone could do either. Or neither. Or both.

There’s an early conversation between Death and the wizard whose mix-up with his staff marked Esk as a wizard—just after the man has died, when he’s realized that he’s passed his magic along to a female and, in his mind, made a terrible mistake. “I was foolish,” he says, “I assumed the magic would know what it was doing.” But instead of agreeing, Death tells him, “PERHAPS IT DOES.”

It all comes down to what Esk calls magic beyond magic—the reality of the thing beyond the concepts we’ve created to define and confine it. If we’ve invented these distinctions between ‘types’ of magic, between ‘types’ of gender and the self, then what remains once we’ve removed them? What happens when we peel them away and see what’s left behind? Why do we cling to our invented categories, the things that limit both sides and create conflict?

I really like that Equal Rites never puts Esk into a specific category. She doesn’t end the book as a ‘true’ wizard or a ‘true’ witch, but she also doesn’t fully reject either. As sad as I am that Pratchett never goes much deeper into Esk (her brief appearance in I Shall Wear Midnight doesn’t actually explain much), I’m fine with not having a concrete answer. One, the other, both, neither—it’s not the point. Magic is magic. People are people. Gender is, honestly, irrelevant. Beyond the academic divides we’ve made for ourselves, it’s all the same stuff given different names. Esk does magic, and she is herself, and in the end, she’s not bound by the limitations that witches and wizards put on their reality.

Infinite possibilities!

It’s something the other wizards and witches never get to have. They’re so locked into what they believe magic to be, what they believe themselves to be, that they never really look outside those boxes.

It’s wild to me that the concept Pratchett is introducing here—specifically about wizards and witches and gender—basically disappears as long as Esk does. Esk is a really cool character; the idea of female wizards and male witches is fascinating. I want more of all this. So, I’m genuinely sad that Esk doesn’t reappear again until the Tiffany Aching books, specifically I Shall Wear Midnight—in 2010, more than twenty years after Equal Rites was published. And we don’t get another wizard or witch or magic-user in general working outside their typical gender alignment until Geoffrey appears in 2015 in The Shepherd’s Crown and asks to become a witch, and even then, the witches take to calling him a ‘calm-weaver’ instead.

I like that the idea eventually comes full circle. I don’t like that the circle takes thirty years, and goes basically unacknowledged in the meantime.

But the point Pratchett is making is still there in the Discworld, and it never really goes away. Remember how I said earlier that this stuff—all this ‘witches do and are x, wizards do and are y, that’s how it has to be’ nonsense—it’s all what people believe about magic and such, not how things are? Pratchett and Discworld are huge on belief. Belief shapes reality, belief becomes real, and we see that over and over again. But part of what Pratchett is saying here is that even if we all believe in something, then it doesn’t mean that it’s right. Just because something is doesn’t mean it should be.

More importantly, though, it also doesn’t mean we’ve locked ourselves in place. Esk proves that much. We learn. We grow. We change our understanding of our reality and ourselves, and we believe something different. And then the world changes, too.

* * * * * * * * * *

Side Notes:

We get to see Granny Weatherwax for the first time! She’s absolutely fabulous and I love this sharp-tongued bitter old lady so much. In later books starring the witches we will focus in a lot more on Granny herself as a witch and a person, rather than just as a teacher.

Granny Weatherwax is said to live in the village of Bad Ass in Equal Rites. In future books, she will live in Lancre.

There actually aren’t that many footnotes in this one. Since I kind of just…expect footnotes to appear in every book Terry Pratchett touches, despite the fact that they’re super rare everywhere else, it’s almost weirder to not see a footnote every page and a half.

Esk does some magical nonsense—mainly by not realizing the magic she’s doing should be impossible—that ends up “changing the Discworld in thousands of tiny ways.” This is probably part of Pratchett’s attempt to slowly shift what he started establishing in The Colour of Magic to what we’ll see in later Discworld books, moving from High Fantasy to more of a, I don’t know, steampunk-y magical surrealism? What even is the Discworld, I ask you? It’s impossible to describe. But what Esk does to it here is described as follows: “the wavefront of probability struck the edge of Reality and rebounded like the slosh off the side of the pond which, meeting the laggard ripples coming the other way, caused small but important whirlpools in the very fabric of existence. You can have whirlpools in the fabric of existence, because it is a very strange fabric.”

We get our first mention of sourcerers here in Equal Rites, but they’re not very well defined. We’re just told that they’re now extinct. They’ll turn up in a lot more detail in a couple books, of course, once we get to Sourcery.

Favorite Quotes:

“I know what I mean, she told herself. Magic’s easy, you just find the place where everything is balanced and push. Anyone could do it. There’s nothing magical about it. All the funny words and waving the hands is just…it’s only for… She stopped, surprised at herself. She knew what she meant. The idea was right up there in the front of her mind. But she didn’t know how to say it in words, even to herself.”

“‘But,’ he said, ‘if it’s wizard magic she’s got, learning witchery won’t be any good, will it? You said they’re different.’ ‘They’re both magic. If you can’t learn to ride an elephant, you can at least ride a horse.’”

“The old witch yanked the staff out of its shadow and waved it vaguely at Esk. ‘Here. It’s yours. Take it. I just hope this is the right thing to do.’ In fact the presentation of a staff to an apprentice wizard is usually a very impressive ceremony, especially if the staff has been inherited from an elder mage; by ancient lore there is a long and frightening ordeal involving masks and hoods and swords and fearful oaths about people’s tongues being cut out and their entrails torn by wild birds and their ashes scattered to the eight winds and so on. After some hours of this sort of thing the apprentice can be admitted to the brotherhood of the Wise and Enlightened. There is also a long speech. By sheer coincidence Granny got the essence of it in a nutshell.”

“‘Never mind what I said, or common sense or anything. Sometimes you just have to go the way things take you, and I reckon you’re going to wizard school one way or the other.’ Esk considered this. ‘You mean it’s my destiny?’ she said at last. Granny shrugged. ‘Something like that. Probably. Who knows?’”

“Animal minds are simple, and therefore sharp. Animals never spend time dividing experience into little bits and speculating about all the bits they’ve missed. The whole panoply of the universe has been neatly expressed to them as things to (a) mate with, (b) eat, (c) run away from, and (d) rocks.”

“‘Why are you holding that broomstick?’ he said. Esk looked at it as though she had never seen it before. ‘Everything’s got to be somewhere,’ she said.”

“Why was it that, when she heard Granny ramble on about witchcraft she longed for the cutting magic of wizardry, but whenever she heard Treatle speak in his high-pitched voice she would fight to the death for witchcraft? She’d be both, or none at all. And the more they intended to stop her, the more she wanted it. She’d be a witch and a wizard too. And she would show them.”

“‘Million-to-one chances,’ she said, ‘crop up nine times out of ten.’”

“For a moment he nursed the strangely consoling feeling that his life was totally beyond his control and whatever happened no one could blame him.”

#discworld #equal rites #witches #esk #granny weatherwax

31 notes · View notes

suddenrundown · 4 years

Text

All the Time in the World: Chapter 15

Read previous chapter

Once upon a time, the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration was a name for an entire organization and not just a group of seven, the Starblaster was merely a blueprint, and the Light was more of a scientific enigma than an object upon which the difference between life and death hung.

If one were to look back, those times would seem much simpler, but for Barry Bluejeans, whose default state on a good day was nervous and who over-analyzed everything like it was his job (because it was), no task was simple, and certainly not one with as much scientific importance as the one that had been placed before him.

“With all due respect, Captain, I’m not sure I’m qualified for this.”

Davenport smiled patiently. “Well, with all due respect, Hallwinter, I didn’t ask if you thought you were qualified.”

Continued under the cut, or you can read it on ao3

Once upon a time, Barry Bluejeans was actually named Sildar Hallwinter, but that’s a different story.

Not one to argue, Sildar fanned the resumes on the table in front of him and bent to study them as he rubbed the back of his neck. The four folders held the names, faces, and qualifications of the four individuals that Davenport wanted him to approve of for the mission. Strike that, five individuals. Two of them, a pair of elves apparently named Taako and Lup, shared one folder.

“Why do these two have one resume?” he asked without indicating which he meant, assuming the gnome would know.

“They insisted,” Davenport explained with a chuckle.

That didn’t really seem like a good enough reason, but who was he to get hung up on it? “They also don’t have a last name…”

“The boy said it was T-A-A-C-O, but it was unclear if he was joking or not and there was no way to verify it, so we didn’t press the matter.”

“Lup and Taako Taaco,” Barry mumbled quietly to himself with a small shake of his head as he spent a few minutes pouring over the resumes of the other candidate hopefuls: Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, and Lucretia. The last one also had no last name. An eclectic bunch, to say the least.

“If you’re showing them to me,” he finally said as he looked up at Davenport, “I’m assuming you believe them to be qualified enough for the job. That’s good enough for me.”

Davenport smiled again. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but that isn’t what I’m asking of you.”

“What are you asking of me?”

“Do you think that you could get along with them?”

“Professionally?” Barry asked with a confused cock of his head. “I’ve never had an issue with coworkers before.”

“Believe me, Sildar, we’ve known each other long enough that I know you’re more than capable of keeping up a working relationship with anyone, no matter what you personally feel about them. You have a non-confrontational nature almost to a fault, but that’s still not what I’m asking.”

“Then what is?”

Davenport leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, the ship we plan on building won’t be run by normal means. Thanks to the Light, we’ve made so many new scientific and arcane advancements, as you are well aware. Bond energy being one of them.”

“Right,” Barry replied, still not following.

“Would it not be most interesting,” Davenport continued, a twinkle in his eye, “if the vessel we built ran on that bond energy?”

This instantly piqued his interest, and he found himself leaning forward in his seat as well in anticipation. “That would be incredible! We’d be the first! Think of what that could mean for the rest of the world if we managed to do it.” The possibilities already raced through his mind, resumes in front of him forgotten.

“Hence, why the question is so important. Do you, Sildar Hallwinter, think that you could get along well enough with this group of people? Do you think that this group plus the two of us would work well enough with each other that we could power a ship for a handful of months? Do you think that the seven us of us could make history together?”

Sildar then understood what was being asked of him. Davenport knew he was capable, but he was really questioning if he was truly willing. He wanted to know if he could overcome his tendency to hide behind his work and not get involved. Could Sildar step out of his comfort zone in order to accomplish something that had never been thought of before on a mission that promised a world-altering future? Would he pave the way for that future with these four relative strangers?

The faces of those strangers looked back at him as he stared down at their resumes once more, and he smiled at them all before meeting Davenport’s expectant gaze again.

“I wouldn’t dare say no.”

This was enough for Davenport, who knew Sildar well enough to tell this meant he was completely committed. The gnome beamed at him as he sat back in his seat. “Excellent.”

Sildar was determined to be as committed as he could possibly be. He would do his friend proud and prove to himself that he was capable of all that Davenport believed him to be and regret not a moment of his part in this adventure. And true to his word, over the course of the following weeks, as he began attending rigorous training classes and helping to run a few of them, he interacted with the individuals he’d be sharing space (both the deep and dark kind and the mechanical kind) with. Or rather, he tried his best. He found each of them intimidating in some way and couldn’t bring himself to actually introduce himself formally the first day. Or the second. Or the third.

The only thing he did manage to accomplish that first day was accidentally offend the elven twins by staring just a little too long when they whirled into the classroom a few minutes late. Neither seemed all that remorseful about their tardiness nor embarrassed by the stares from everyone else and simply fell into two empty chairs a few seats down from Sildar.

As they settled in, everyone else went about their business, except for Sildar, who found himself unable to stop watching them. Perhaps it was the brazen way in which they carried themselves despite committing what he himself would have considered a genuinely mortifying faux pas. Or it was the way in which the boy (Taako, he remembered) exuded a certain grace that didn’t seem possible with how he sprawled out in his chair, looking around the room like he was sizing everyone else up in the most casual way. Or it was how alarmingly nervous and intimidated he felt looking at Taako and his sister Lup, who were so...beautiful.

This was not the sort of thing he tended to fixate on, nor was it something he ever really noticed in general. He wasn’t the sort to care, but something about them grabbed his attention. Lup, who was closest to him, leaned down and rifled through a bag that was slung over the back of her chair, and he wondered if it was how neither she nor her brother looked made up at all, like it was just a natural thing. Something subtle. Was that a common thing among elves? Perhaps it was, but he found himself too distracted to actually recall any other elves he’d ever seen as Lup, with a triumphant smile, lifted two pencils from her bag and began to settle back in her seat. She stopped short as she looked up and made eye contact with Sildar, who realized with a sudden start that he’d been watching for far longer than was socially appropriate.

Still he couldn’t look away, now more out of embarrassment that he’d been caught than curious fascination. He sat frozen in shock as Lup did a double take, his own pencil that he’d been nervously twirling suspended precariously between his fingers. A blank expression replaced her smile as Lup stared back and, after a moment, she raised an eyebrow in a challenging sort of way. Embarrassment heated his face and melted the icy shock, and with a start he dropped his pencil and finally looked away to catch it before it rolled off his desk.

Staring down, he chastised himself for being so rude even as he struggled not to look the twins’ way again, just to be sure that Lup wasn’t still staring icy daggers in his direction. He caved after a few moments and, with great relief, found that she’d gone back to minding her own business, and he followed suit, the fire in his face dying down a bit. That wasn’t at all how he meant his first interaction with one of his crew mates to go, but he could fix it. He’d make it work. He had promised he would. Davenport had trusted him enough to give him a spot on this crew and he would not make his friend regret that decision. There would be no regret on his part, either.

Which is why on that fourth day, when he finally had the opportunity to introduce himself to the whole crew at their very first briefing, he volunteered to do so first, only stuttering once or twice as he stood and explained his role and his excitement at the prospect of what awaited the group over the months to come. The stuttering was embarrassing sure, but he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be? He was determined not to wallow in that embarrassment nor regret his efforts.

Not even when he heard someone snicker as he sat back down.

Instead, he chose to believe that it was his imagination, a product of his lifelong self consciousness. Don’t give in to it, he told himself. No regrets. That became the mantra during moments when he felt out of place, when he worried that a comment here or there was made at his expense, when all of the relative group of strangers seemed to be bonding with everyone but himself. No regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

It was a relatively simple rule to follow; his feelings were not easily hurt, never had been, so as long as he was trying his best, what was there to regret? Not everyone was meant to get along, right? At least he found comfort in Lucretia who, despite being much younger, reminded him very much of himself with her soft spoken nature, thirst for knowledge, and dedication to her craft.

“What led you to chronicling for a living?” he had asked her one day while they ate in the busy IPRE cafeteria.

“I am annoyingly detailed and have really nice handwriting no matter which hand I write with.” Lucretia answered, giggling at her own joke. “Actually,” she continued, “that first part is relevant. I’m fascinated by stories, I always have been. And while other storytellers are able to come up with their own plots using their brilliant imaginations, I have no such gift. Mine lie in my ability to question and dig until I have every tiny piece of the larger puzzle.” She smiled then. “I suppose the ambidextrousness doesn’t hurt with that either. Writing with both hands at the same time helps a lot when taking down stories from other people or my own observations.”

“I’m sure it does,” Sildar replied. “That’s quite a skill to have.”

“This is my first time as an official chronicler, though,” she told him. “It’s so exciting!”

It was nice seeing her enthusiasm for the task before her. From what Sildar had seen, Lucretia was incredibly knowledgeable and at times he forgot how young she was, how young the majority of their group was. Things like this reminded him. No wonder it was difficult for him to engage with them; he was such an old man.

No regrets.

“It is, indeed,” he answered, matching her enthusiasm with a smile.

They then slipped into a more or less comfortable silence as they continued eating, Sildar people-watching between bites and Lucretia occasionally pausing to scribble something down in a little yellow notebook. He thought to ask whether it was work-related or for her own amusement, but lost his nerve when Lup and Taako slid into seats on opposite sides of Lucretia and Magnus plopped himself into the one directly next to him. Sildar jumped a little, startled at the surprisingly quiet appearance of the young man; Magnus was a pretty big guy and didn’t seem all that capable of being sneaky.

Lup and Lucretia acknowledged each other with a smile as Magnus squirmed in his seat and hunkered over the tray of food that he’d brought with him, anticipation clear in his face. “Holy shit, I’m hungry.”

“We know,” Taako said with a raised eyebrow as Magnus stuffed his face. “You haven’t stopped talking about it for ten minutes.”

Magnus seemed unbothered by Taako’s quip, his expression unchanging as he spoke again around a mouthful of food. “How is this so awesome? Cafeteria food has never been good.”

“It’s decent,” Taako replied as if that was as gracious as he was willing to be. Still, Sildar noted, the bite he took seemed to cause him no dissatisfaction. “I’m glad you’re so easily pleased. I guess I won’t have to worry about you hating whatever I make when we’re all stuck on a ship together.”

“Which you won’t,” Lup, across from Sildar, chimed in. “His food’s amazing.”

“Oh, for real?” Magnus asked excitedly.

Lup grinned and nodded as Taako took a bite of his own food.

“It’s alright,” he simpered with a vaguely nonchalant shrug, at least making an attempt to be modest about his skills.

“You should cook for all of us sometime!” Magnus suggested. “I mean, before we take off. It would be awesome!”

“You mean, like, a bonding thing?” Lup giggled.

“Yeah!”

“I’m a busy guy, my dude,” Taako answered. He took another bite before continuing “But maybe if you made it worth my while…”

Magnus cocked his head. “What, like pay you?” he chuckled.

Taako shrugged again. “Might help a little.”

“Ah bummer, I’m broke. Guess I’ll just have to wait!”

Sildar smiled to himself. Apparently nothing, not even a mild attempt at extortion by a crew mate, ever dampened Magnus’s amiable nature.

“It’s a good idea though, Magnus,” he interjected, turning to face the boy, “maybe we could do something similar.”

All four others at the table looked his way, all indicating some amount of surprise that he’d spoken. Magnus took it in stride anyway.

“Oh yeah, nice S-...man, that would be cool.”

Magnus had forgotten his name. To be fair, it wasn’t exactly a common one, so he decided not to hold it against him.

“Well isn’t that interesting,” Taako snickered. “I didn’t think you were the kind to like team building exercises, Bluejeans.”

“Bluejeans,” Lup snorted as an embarrassed heat filled Sildar’s face and he ducked his head to stare down at his own denim-covered lap. “He does wear a lot of jeans!”

“They’re good for lab work,” Sildar insisted,unsure why he was put in a position to defend his choice in wardrobe to Taako of all people, who on occasion looked like he got dressed in the dark.

Lup wiped a tear out of her eye as her laughter subsided. “Bluejeans,” she tittered.

That was the beginning of that other story. Alliteration, repetition, and an unfortunate misprint on a very important, classified document that somebody somehow got a hold of assured that, by the end of it, Sildar Hallwinter, accomplished and distinguished scientist, became widely known solely as Barry Bluejeans, scientist and resident joke.

But a name is just a name and jokes are just...well, jokes, which stung occasionally despite the lack of malice intended behind them. But Barry Bluejeans knew who he was, and he had a job to perform and a promise to uphold, so he chanted his mantra as the next few months passed by.

No regrets.

“Nerd alert!”

No regrets.

Despite his dedication, he might not have made the promise at all had he known what was coming. When the Starblaster finally took off and the Hunger came to destroy everything and set the seven of them on a constant race against time and a force they didn’t understand, there definitely were regrets. How could there not be? He and the others were lost; they had no home. They were terrified. They were alone.

Except they weren’t; the seven relative strangers banded together because they didn’t have a choice. Even Barry, who was used to being alone, stuck with the rest instead of pulling away, despite the teasing that continued, to his dismay. But even that changed as cycles passed and the group dynamic changed from that of a group of coworkers to close friends to something else, something all of them felt needed no definition. Home to them became wherever the seven of them landed with the Starblaster. Slowly but surely, they all felt it eventually, but Davenport had perhaps been the first to notice.

“This is a hell of a ship we have,” he told Barry once in an earlier cycle, maybe 7 or 8, as the pair crawled around the engine room, inspecting every bit of it.

“It’s been good to us,” Barry replied as he bent to check the calibration of one of the monitors. “It’s weirdly more spacious than what we originally needed. And it’s held up way longer than it needed to. Although maybe that has something to do with regeneration…”

“Well, she runs on love, so it makes sense.”

“Wha-ow!” Barry exclaimed as he hit his head on a counter ledge, distracted by the gnome’s statement. “It runs on bonds, Davenport, that’s what we designed it for,” he told him, rubbing his head.

“Is that not the same thing?”

“No, of course not. Love is an idea, you can’t touch it,” he reasoned. “You couldn’t harness it for power.”

“Hmm, you say that, but we’ve done crazier things. We used the Light for all sorts of things, when we first discovered it” Davenport countered thoughtfully.

Barry stared at his captain and friend but said nothing else, sure that it was useless to get into a debate about the science of love. After a moment, the pain in his head subsided and he moved on to the next monitor.

“You know,” Davenport spoke again, “sometimes, when we’re all together, I hear her humming.”

Barry chuckled in disbelief. “You hear her humming.”

“You don’t think it does?”

“Ships make noises, sometimes,” he answered, sure that Davenport had lost it.

“It sounds silly, I know,” Davenport assured him, “and maybe it is. But it’s a comforting thought to me that the ship that I helped build to run on the bonds between my crew might have learned to feel what I’ve come to feel.”

This gave him pause. Barry was aware that Davenport cared about all of the; his actions proved that to be true. But assuming it and hearing it were two different things, and hearing that his feelings went as far as love…

Barry had spent much of his life alone, but he hadn’t really been lonely. He had his work and he had colleagues, and it was hard to feel lonely when you don’t feel that you’re missing anything. But with the way his life had changed, how all their lives had changed, he knew how it felt to not be lonely, and how it felt to connect with others, to care about them. How it felt to be cared about.

Embarrassingly, he sniffled and found it hard to see the monitor he stared at with tears in his eyes.

Once he let himself love, he found it easy to do. It turned out that he was pretty good at it, almost as if he was made just to love those six people he’d been thrown together with, and that love became the force that drove his actions and the decisions he made. It surprised him sometimes, just how much love he had to give and the different forms that that love took, but the most surprising and most life-altering turned out to be his love for Lup.

Being in love with Lup felt as natural as breathing, and although he felt no small amount of guilt for it, he found that he couldn’t stop. He managed to keep the guilt at bay with the promise that he wouldn’t let his feelings be anyone’s concern but his own, but his propensity to think with his heart was bound to cause him to break that promise eventually.

And it did. As it turned out, you can’t spend a year pretending to be married to someone you’re in love with and not slip up. Thinking with his heart was what led him to that mistake, and it was also what led him to put an end to it.

He’d been alone before, but he’d never felt lonelier than when Lup closed the lab door behind her.

“Once upon a time…”

“Shhh.”

“Once upon a-”

“No.”

“A long time ago in a fantasy galaxy far-”

“Oh my god Lup, please,” Taako whined, voice cracking as it had done often lately. “I’m tired!”

“Aw, but I’m bored,” Lup whined back as she peered at her brother through the darkness of the tent, deciding not to call him out for the embarrassing pitch his voice had reached. This time.

“Well you wouldn’t be if you were sleeping,” he argued. “You know they’re gonna wake us up early tomorrow and then you’ll complain that you’re too tired, but it’ll be your own fault and you’re gonna come crying to me and I’ll just say I told you so-”

“Alright, alright, fine. But you gotta listen tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay yeah, sure, now go to sleep.”

In response, Lup blew a raspberry. Then Taako did too, which set off a raspberry fight that was only interrupted by the sound of someone in a tent not far off hollering “Shut up!”. Both did immediately, as neither of them wanted to get in any sort of trouble and get themselves kicked out of the troupe.

Once upon a time, that was how it was.

Once upon a time, before the Hunger, before the discovery of the Light and the seven on the Starblaster, before a $15 bill was stolen by Greg Grimaldis, there was just Lup and Taako and a troupe of caravans travelling nowhere in particular.

They were a little young for it, even by elven standards, and travelling troupes of entertainers and hustlers didn’t tend to let preteens join their ranks as a general rule, but the twins learned to ingratiate themselves by proving their worth in the only way they knew how: being excellent cooks who’d work for nothing at all but the relative safety of numbers. Lup and Taako were pretty independent and used to relying on each other, but even they knew they couldn’t fend for themselves completely. Awesome as they were, they were just kids and had a lot to learn. But damn it if they weren’t trying, and so far, they’d both gotten just good enough at transmutation magic for it to mean something to them, and that was why they were doing what they were doing.

Technically, this wasn’t the path that they had to take; they had plenty of other options as far as living arrangements. A godparent here, a great uncle there, a grandma on somebody’s side, an older cousin three times removed-you name a distant relative, they had it, and they’d been passed around to half of them at least. But none of those places had ever been their choice. True, they hadn’t been all bad. There was that Aunt Pen they really liked; she was the first person they were ever sent to live with. She taught them how to cook, she encouraged their interest in magic and even scrounged up a few books for them, even though she had no magical abilities herself. They were fast learners though, and could do a lot with a little. In fact, at that point their powers combined gave them the ability to go from identical to fraternal twins soon after Lup chose her name. It was a pretty good deal.

But their time with Aunt Pen didn’t last forever, and their relative-hopping over the next few years was exhausting and the instability left little room for learning magic. And if a future in magic was what they wanted, which it for sure was, they definitely weren’t going to reach their goals that way. So they made a choice and just didn’t go to the next place they were sent off to. For the first time, they were calling the shots, and Lup thought that was damn cool.

“Thinking about switching to evocation,” she told Taako one day as they were cleaning up after lunch one day.

Taako rinsed the suds off a dish and handed it to her to dry. “Why’s that?” he asked.

“Uh, well for one it’s wicked awesome,” she answered. “And two, we probably would have a better chance of both getting into whatever academy we wanted if we had different skills to offer.”

“Cool, I like it,” he said, elbowing her in the arm gently. “Look at you being smart.”

“I mean I for sure am, but I can’t take all the credit for this one. I was talking to Leftie and he kinda gave me the idea.”

“Remind me who that is again?” he asked, not seeming at all concerned about actually knowing the answer.

“You know,” she coaxed, “the juggler.”

“Which juggler?”

“Oh my god, Taako, the one that only has a left arm, duh!”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “‘Scuse me if I can’t keep track of all the jugglers I’ve ever met.”

“There’s been like, three.”

“Hmm...well, point stands.”

Lup and Taako were pretty good at cooking and magic, but the thing they were pros at was ghosting everyone they knew. They figured that if they were gonna be sent packing at a moment’s notice, there was really no reason to get that attached to people around them, so they just learned not to. At some point along the way, Taako chose not to make much effort with anyone ever, but Lup found that boring. No, instead she just didn’t get attached, kept the people she met at quite a few arm lengths, and that was good enough. Worked every time, and it left them both with very little to distract them from learning as much magic as they could by themselves. Time, patience, and dedication turned them into powerful wizards in their own right, and they had very little issue getting accepted into their chosen magic academy, and an even easier time excelling in their classes. They destroyed absolutely all of their peers, not that they were keeping track of that type of thing.

Except they totally were and they definitely did.

It was more or less confirmed when they were called to the academy headmaster’s office the day before they graduated.

“What’s this about?” Taako asked after pleasantries were exchanged, a tinge of worry in his voice that gave away the uncaring expression he wore.

“We’re not in trouble are we?” Lup asked, already on the defensive. “Look, if this is about what I said to Greg Grimaldis, he started this whole thing and I only threatened him a little and if he would just-”

“Please, Miss Lup, you aren’t in trouble,” Headmaster Mathers said, holding up a hand. “Well, now I’m not sure...what is this issue with Greg Grimaldis?”

“Literally nothing,” Taako replied quickly, cutting Lup off before she could get going about the whole thing again and throwing her a look.

“Yeah, it’s so not a big deal,” she echoed Taako before forcing a smile and facing Mathers again. “Sorry, continue.”

Mathers looked like he wasn’t sure whether to pursue the issue or save himself the headache. “Not a problem,” he replied, clearly deciding to go with the latter choice. “What I was calling you here for was to offer you an opportunity.” If you’re interested, that is.”

“What kind of opportunity?” Taako asked as Lup leaned forward excitedly.

Mathers grinned. “Have either of you heard of the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration?”

They had not, but it didn’t take much convincing before they were practically begging for a recommendation that Mathers had already been ready to give them. Who wouldn’t want to be involved in a historical mission to space? And after a couple of months of interviews and an application later, they found themselves in an entirely different office.

“I must say, it’s very good to be able to officially welcome you both to the IPRE,” a gnome with an incredibly cool mustache named Davenport told them, shaking first Lup’s hand, then Taako’s.

“Thanks,” Taako replied amiably, “we’re excited to be here.”

“For sure!” Lup agreed. She glanced at a clock on Davenport’s wall. “Um, we’re supposed to be heading to our first class right now…”

“Oh, yes, I know, and trust me, your instructor will not mind if you’re a few minutes late. But I’ll make this quick anyway so as not to take up too much of your time.”

He gestured for them to sit in the two seats on one side of his desk as he sat in the chair on the opposite side, and they wordlessly complied.

“I’m sure you have done your due diligence and done some amount of research on our institution and the mission at hand, but not all of the details have been made public yet, so I wanted to fill you in.”

Taako and Lup listened as Davenport leaned back in his seat and explained the Light and the Starblaster. When he started to explain the bond engine, he paused and leaned forward again.

“I’m curious.”

Lup cocked her head as Taako asked “About what?”

“I have spoken at length with your academy’s headmaster. Mathers speaks very highly of the both of you, to be sure, and it is obvious to me that you are both more than qualified for the job at hand.”

“But?” Lup supplied.

Davenport smiled. “Just as you have done your due diligence, I have also done mine. You see, I have a ship that, amazingly, runs on bonds. You’ll learn more about that over the next few months, but the gist of it is that it is powered by connections. Connections between things and, most importantly, individuals. Personally, I find this to be the most exciting aspect of this entire project, but I also realize that it could be daunting for others.”

Lup was unsure where this was going, and neither did Taako it seemed, as both stayed silent as Davenport continued.

“I don’t pretend to know anything about either of you other than your resumes and what Mathers reported. And I don’t need to know any more than that to trust in your capabilities, so I wouldn’t dare be so invasive as to ask. Instead, I will just say this: we could all learn from a ship that’s powered by the connections between others, and I encourage the both of you to let yourselves learn whatever you are meant to.”

Lup was entirely unsure what to say to that, and both she and Taako stared unblinking at Davenport as the gnome stood from his chair and glanced at the clock on the wall.

“I’ve kept you both long enough,” he said as he walked to the door and held it open for them. “Enjoy your class!”

The twins filed out and watched as the door swung closed. When it clicked shut, Taako chuckled wryly.

“What a weird dude,” he said. “Think his crazy mustache just holds all the secrets of the universe.”

Lup ran a hand through her hair. “Yikes.”

“Yikes,” Taako repeated with a sigh. “Didn’t think I’d need a ‘play nice with the other kids’ speech at this age.”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

“No, I heard what he meant. Not sure how I’m supposed to just…”

She looked at Taako as he trailed off, his stony expression indicating he didn’t know how to comfortably finish the thought. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hey, let’s get to class!”

As they raced off, Lup replayed Davenport’s words and decided that the guy was just trying to make sure his mission ran smoothly. They didn’t need to worry themselves over it; he wasn’t really asking for much. If they had to play nice and put themselves out there just a little, that wouldn’t kill them. Plus, this was a short term thing, it wasn’t forever!

She paid no attention to the faces that looked their way as she and Taako burst through the classroom door and easily found two open seats. Beside her, Taako lounged in her chair while she looked through her bag to find their favorite pencils.

It was only day one; there was no reason to freak out over anything yet. If all the people involved in this whole thing were as cool as her and Taako, they’d have no problem getting along.

She pulled two pencils out and looked up to see a guy with round glasses and a mullet looking at her. He looked shocked to see her looking back, like he’d been caught doing something weird. What the fuck’s his problem she thought as she gave him a hard stare until he whipped to face the front, dropping his pencil in the process.

Alright, so maybe she wouldn’t be great friends with that guy.

As the months progressed, it became pretty clear that, while their little group wasn’t as cool as she and her brother were, they were all at least...interesting. Lup liked Magnus and Lucretia for sure. Merle seemed to like plants a lot which might have been disturbing if it wasn’t so entertaining to see it freak other people out. Davenport was pretty chill when he wasn’t dispensing wisdom. And then there was the mullet guy, Sal...Sil…

“Barry Bluejeans.”

Barry Bluejeans.

Barry Bluejeans wasn’t a weirdo, he was just a really big nerd. She and Taako got a kick out of that, and they found that, even if they didn’t want to be lifelong best friends with these people, they enjoyed their company enough to hang around them for as long as the mission would last.

They started to feel differently when everything went horrifically sideways.

“We should just leave,” Taako suggested one day while they were translating the Animal’s language into Common.

“And go where, Taako?” Lup challenged. “There’s nowhere to go! We don’t know what’s out there.”

“So? That never stopped us before.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “I guess that’s true.”

“We don’t need them. It’s safer if it’s just us. I got your back and you got mine. Like always.”

Lup noted the fear that she hardly ever saw in her brother’s face. “Like always, Ko. We’ll leave as soon as we finish translating this and get Magnus an in with the Royal Beasts or whatever. We can’t leave this all to Barry.”

“Fair enough,” he answered, some relief in his voice.

The plan fell apart when the Hunger came again and they were regenerated. It seemed much more dangerous to leave and a lot more awkward if they were just gonna wind up back on a ship with five people they ditched. They weren’t that callous, but neither could shake the feeling of needing to go, for it to be just the two of them once again.

Sometimes, change happens gradually, and other times it happens all at once. In cycle 3, they went exploring for a day and didn’t think to mention it to anyone else. Taako sprained his ankle slipping on a stone while trying to cross a stream, and they didn’t make it back until early morning. When they were within sight of the Starblaster, Lucretia came running out to meet them.

“Taako, Lup!” she cried, “where were you? Are you alright?” She moved to Taako’s other side and supported his weight.

“I’m all good,” Taako replied, perplexed. “Just twisted my ankle.”

Lup leaned forward to look at Lucretia from the other side of Taako. “What’s the panic for?”

“I’m-we didn’t know-you were just gone, and they all left, so I’m here by myself w-waiting and worried that-”

Her voice broke on the last word, and Lup and Taako eyes went wide as she pulled them both in to hug them fiercely.

“I am so happy you’re back,” she whispered with a sniff.

In Taako’s room later that night, after Merle bandaged up Taako and treated a few minor scrapes that Lup insisted she didn’t need anything for and everyone else had expressed their relief at having them back, the twins sat on his bed in silence. After a while, Lup noticed Taako’s eyes were closed, and got up to leave.

“They’re all not so bad,” Taako said softly just before she opened the door.

She turned around and found him staring up at the ceiling. “I think so too,” she replied.

“I’m thinking about making Elderflower macarons tomorrow,” he said.

Lup smiled, suddenly feeling warm and cozy. Taako hadn’t made those cookies for a long time.

Not since Aunt Pen.

“I’ll help you,” she promised.

Lup had always thought she had no room in her life to love anyone else but Taako, but she quickly learned how wrong she had been. She found herself loving the shit out of Magnus and Lucretia, Merle and his love for plants, Davenport and his wisdom.

And that big nerd Barry Bluejeans.

Barry Bluejeans, who was actually a great friend. Her best friend, with his glasses and his mullet and his jeans and his cute little blush and-

Her crush on Barry was never supposed to last. And it wasn’t supposed to get stronger.

It wasn’t supposed to ruin their relationship completely.

When her dumb idea to pretened to be married to her best friend just as an excuse to get what she wanted and she made him uncomfortable as a result, she felt rejected and guilty. As the lab door slid closed behind her, she could only think of one thing to do.

Lup had never found it hard to ghost people. It’s what she and Taako had always done. And she managed to avoid Barry for the rest of that cycle.

And it hurt more than she could have ever imagined.

#blupjeans #the adventure zone #barry bluejeans #lup #taz balance #all the time in the world #barry x lup #lup x barry

8 notes · View notes

griffinsandpeacocks · 4 years

Text

Shatter My Expectations And I’m Yours (Shatter Me, Lindsey Stirling Ft. Izzy Hale)

Dorian had a set pattern. He knew that pattern well. If it were a walked path it would be well worn as much as a favored path through the forest, or maybe the faded cobbles under a guard patrol. Yet even so that well known pattern was monotonous and dull even when it had exciting outcomes they were a short reprieve from that same slow turning pattern. He was getting dizzy left to spin in this cycle endlessly. He wasn’t alive anymore with the excitement that came with something considered taboo, now he was so well established in the little steps that it had lost all charm becuase it never lasted and would end only to start again with a new contestant.

He had no real light in his life. The one driving factor that kept him going was the passion to prove Tevinter could be great, and it need not use blood magic to be that way. It didn’t need constant power struggles, if it’s people could unite then they could prove every other nation wrong, they weren’t blood thirsty maleficar that bled slaves dry by the hundreds, they were a nation of great art, and strength that could prove mages need not be leashed like dogs. They could prove magic and mages specifically could add so much more to the world if treated as ordinary citizens and allowed their freedom. In fact the mages of the south had a much better chance of setting such an example... All they needed was the chance, but first this war and the crazed bastard from Chantry Myth had to be dealt with.

He’s reading and trying to find the connections they need when the elf walks up to him. At first Dorian doesn’t notice him but when he sits back pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing at his temples and looks up, all he sees is the lean form of the archer. Alarion was standing back watching him with a soft smile on his face looking slightly concerned.

“Ah, Inquisitor, to what do I owe this visit?” Dorian says smiling and instantly masking his frustration and tiredness. Alarion isn’t fooled, in fact he rarely is. The archer was sharp eyed, even if his left was blind, he made up for it in his skill in observation. He rarely missed important details of the land around him and the minute shifts of a facial expression he was staring at. He’d learned Dorian’s facial expressions well. He’d done so with every person that followed him into danger. He even could tell you if Harding was nervous, or even if she was or wasn’t paying you actual attention rather than tuning you out. He could even give you pointers on what was giving away certain expressions. Josephine had even tested his skills out against masked Orlesian nobles. It was harder for him but he’d still hit more often than miss a mark. He was an empathetic passionate elf, who though he would focus on elves he often went out of his way to help everyone.

“I was wondering if you were holding up alright... And there’s an issue I wanted to discuss...” He looks uncertain and Dorian only remembers that expression a few times. When they’d traveled to that twisted future and again when they’d been about to come back. Though he hadn’t just been uncertain then, he’d looked horrified and angry as well. When he’d gone after Alexius Dorian was surprised he’d chosen to spare his life. Alarion had the mage on the ground a dagger at his neck and had chosen to just knock out the mage instead of kill him as the Fereldan king swept in. Upon seeing the elf he went from bristled and ready for conflict to rather calm waiting for the elf to decide the fate of the mages. Dorian had had no idea why until he latter learned the man had to Consorts both elves and both men. Both were talented rouges.

Alarion had decided to give the mages a second chance as allies, though made it expressly clear they would be around Templars they would need to work together with a semblance of civility and atop all of it, if they fucked up, as in one went and became an abomination, he’d cut them down personally if Templars didn’t first. Dorian later learned Alarion had had to kill his own sister after she’d fallen for an offer made by a demon of lust. The archer took no pride in the event but he was eerily comfortable when confronted by abominations. He’d cut it down rather than flinch. Though they’d learned those stories from a surviving clan member that had been dug out from The Temple.

Apparently the young elf had been only ten when he’d landed the killing shot on his sister. He’d been in the forest edging their camp when he’d heard the screams start. He’d taken aim and moved through the bushes and taken her down even as he recognized the tattered torn remains of her robes. He’d loosened the arrow in shock and had stopped her before bursting forward and loosing a second arrow that hit her heart. He’d known the rules of the clans, should one of their own fall into the temptations of demons the clan was responsible for putting down the corrupted mage and ending their suffering. Alarion had been confronted by Solas about this and the elf had frozen.

“I did not kill her out of hatred, spite or anger.” He had admit looking down. He placed a hand over his blind eye and looked up at everyone who’d tuned in curious and eager to know more about the elf most adored and some still hated or feared, this had been as they traveled to Skyhold, so it was bound to happen that some personal history would come out for the inner members of the newborn Inquisition.

“I killed her to end her suffering. Because I knew full well the reason she’d fallen was due to wanting to fix my eye. It was an accident she had felt responsible for that caused my to lose sight in it. Though I will never blame her... Even if it did lose my eye, if she had not done as she had I would have lost my life. Thus it was a small price to pay. She’d been looking for ways to cure the damage in the fade and a demon of lust had offered... She fell for the trap. I regret never thanking her for everything she had gone through... I was a child, but I was then seen as an adult. What better than to bear the mark of Falon’Din? I may as well wear the mark of Death.” He’d said then and Dorian had recalled how Solas had been quite in thought for quite some time after that and had looked lost in thought.

“You feel guilt on it then.” Solas had said and Alarion had tilted his head lowering his hand and shaking his head.

“Of a sort... I regret not being able to help support her like she clearly needed. Instead I was self absorbed in my own troubles, children no matter their race can be cruel and being partially blind made me an easy target. I feel nothing at the fact I was forced to kill her. I had a choice. Die, and let others die, or kill her before she could kill me or anyone else. I chose the path that had the least blood on it. I just wish their had been a path that would have spared the blood shed altogether. There probably was... I was just blind to it until it was too late and it had become overgrown.” Alarion had said eyes sad like they were now. Dorian watched the other and frowns.

“I’m holding up well enough I suppose, though this library has all manner of volumes on whether Divine Galatia took a shit on sunday I’m afraid it has little on accurate Tevinter histories. Which makes my job difficult.” He groused and the elf smiles but it fades quickly.

“I’m not sure you’ll like this but it is a distraction. Here read this, it’s a letter Mother Giselle received, I’m getting tired of that woman... Sorry, she said it was from your father.” He says and Dorian feels his nose flare as he gets agitated he stands taking the letter and reading it only to scoff. Alarion stands perfectly still and watches.

“I know my son? Pft, he could barely fill a thimble with what he knows about me! Typical... I’d be willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is merely a henchman hired to knock me over the head and drag me back off to Tevinter.” Dorian hisses and Alarion tilts his head curiously, his black hair falls off his shoulder and rests behind him in a fall of braids and lose hair.

“Could it be Venatori?” He asks and Dorian paused.

“Perhaps... Though this does look like my father’s penmanship. Or... He could have joined the Venatori... I doubt it but anything’s possible. Let’s go and meet this so called, ‘family retainer’, if it’s a trap we get out and kill everyone, you’re good at that, if not we send them back with a message for my father to stick his alarm in his wit’s end.” Dorian hissed and Alarion frowns and paused, he’d flinched, albeit only slightly, at being told what he was good at, he may have shrugged it off and embraced it in the most literal way he could but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Unless the one dying was a waste of air. Then he might get some satisfaction out of sticking an arrow in their eye.

“Bad blood between you?” He asks and Dorian snickers a cringe on his face as he grimaced a slight grin.

“Interesting turn of phrase... Let’s just say we have disagreements on my choices and me with theirs.” Dorian says evasively. Alarion frowns.

“Like not getting married or leaving Tevinter?” The elf asks and Dorian shrugs.

“Two of many other things.” He says and Alarion knows he’ll get no where so shrugs.

“Let’s go see what this is all about then.” Alarion says, he paused and looks back at Dorian with his good eye.

“Should I have any others with us? I’d say we should at least have Bull and Varric along, we could even bring Cole. Help us get a read on everything?” He says and Dorian paused.

“Cole and Bull are fine... Varric might use this as an excuse to write in daddy issues to my long list of character traits.” Dorian sighs and Alarion smiles and huffs a soft laugh.

“Alright, let’s gather them up and ride out.” He says and they walk out and over to Herald’s Rest both ignoring the Mother that watches with a frown and disapproving stare.

“Bull, come on I have a mission I need you for, I’m grabbing Cole and we’ll head out.” Alarion says and Bull nods and stands up from the slouch he’d been in and Dorian waits knowing the other’s watching him and picking apart every little hint Dorian is unintentional putting out that he’s pissed.

“Something have you in a tiff, Dorian.” Bull says and Dorian growls.

“Someone rather.” He snaps and Bull blinks looking a bit more directly at Dorian trying to find what’s getting his fuse so short. Alarion comes down and he’d asked Cole not to try helping Dorian quite yet. They all head out at fast as they can for Redcliff. Going into the Gull and Lantern it’s empty just Dorian and Alarion, Bull and Cole wait outside. The elf sees someone move before Dorian does. His green eyes narrow and his hands slide behind him one hand on a dagger the other silently clipping the strap keeping the blade in the sheath. Anyone who saw him, and didn’t know him, would just think he had his hands behind him in a respectful pose.

“No one here... This doesn’t bode well...” Dorian sighs and Alarion steps closer to say something keeping his eyes on the figure but they speak before he can.

“Dorian.” It’s just his name but Dorian feels anger course through him, he knows that voice and it makes his guts turn to ice. Though it oddly brings a tiny glimmer of hope. Foolish as it was.

“Father.” Alarion drops his hands to his sides blinking at the man and then looking at Dorian.

“So an elaborate smoke screen..? Why?” Dorian snaps steeling his irritation.

“Then you were told...” Alarion sneers.

“I don’t like having my friends walk into possible traps blind, a shocker that.” Alarion spits hands clenching as he can practically feel the unease radiating off Dorian.

“I apologize, Inquisitor, I never intended for you to be involved.” He says and Alarion steps up to stand at Dorian’s side.

“You wanted him with that hag that doesn’t care for him you mean.”The elf hissed and Dorian looks over at the elf and sets a hand on his lower back which makes the elf step a bit back and just glower at Halward while a sneer seems to permanently fix itself to his face. Dorian can’t blame him seeing how that disgusted look shows on his fathers face even if barely.

“Of course not, the Great Magister Pavus couldn’t be seen with the dread Inquisitor, what would people say?” Dorian snaps as his head turns back to his father. He might freeze in fear when he might have a chance at someone for more than just a night of mutual pleasure but against his father, his temper peaks.

“What exactly is this, father? Ambush, kidnapping, touching family reunion?” Dorian snarls and Alarion keeps his eye on the man he’s steadily wanting to fire arrows at. Countless arrows. He’d run out of arrows. Several times.

“It has always been like this...” Who the idiot is appealing to Dorian is unsure given he’s certain Alarion wants to tear his father into little pieces and scatter them through the Wastes.

“Considering you lied to get him here? I wonder why he would be angry?” Alarion scoffs. Dorian piviots keeping himself facing towards his father slightly but looking at the elf.

“You don’t know the half of it! Though... Perhaps you should.” He says thoughtfully and Halward clearly grows uneasy.

“Dorian, there is no need-” Dorian looks up and sneers before looking back at the elf.

“I prefer the company of men, my father disproves.” He says and Alarion paused brain almost blowing smoke out of his ears as several images run through his mind of Dorian in several questionable posses and positions on top or under men of varying races, stature and looks. Though a popular one seems to be himself.

“Ah... I’ve heard a bit about that... And I prefer the same.” Alarion clears his throat and glanced away flushing slightly and Dorian smirks.

“I should have known that’s what this was about.” Halward sneers and Dorian immediately gets back to spitting like an angry cat.

“No. You don’t get to make assumptions, you know nothing about the Inquisitor.” Dorian snarls. Alarion feels that blush get worse and almost wants to just drag him back to Skyhold and see exactly what Dorian preferred.

“This isn’t what I wanted.” The man gripes and Alarion snorts as if he could care what this bastard wanted. He’d known him all of maybe five minutes and wanted him to become a demented pincushion.

“I’ve never been what you wanted, forgotten that already?” Dorian spits sneering and Alarion sighs.

“Then that’s a big deal in Tevinter?” He asks and Dorian shakes his head and looks back at the elf.

“If you want to live up to impossible standards. Every Tevinter family is inter marrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. Which means ever perceived flaw, ever aberration, is deviant and shameful, it must be hidden.” Dorian snarls and Alarion winced. Every flaw is stacked against you, pressure slowly fracturing your mask no matter how carefully constructed.

“That’s what this is about?” The elf asks softly hating the fact the two were so far apart though he hates the older vint he also hates seeing children with such poor ties to their parents when he never knew his.

“Who you sleep with?” He asks and Dorian scoffs.

“Not all of it.” He says and Alarion shakes his head confused.

“Dorian if you’d just listen..”

“Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? He taught me to hate blood magic, ‘The resort of the weak mind’, those were his words. Yet the first thing you turn to when your precious heir refuses to play pretend the rest of his life? You try to change me!” Dorian is pacing now having gotten in his father’s face before retreating looking at the other man his pain is almost palpable. Alarion goes rigid. This fucking bastard did what to Dorian? Alarion hasn’t felt possessive in his life, but he’s beginning to understand what it might feel like.

“I only wanted what was best for you.” Halward tries to appeal but neither of the two in the tavern with him buy it or care. Dorian says what both of them are thinking.

“You wanted what was best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that.” Dorian looks upset now and all the elf wants is to hold the mage. Dorian just feels so trapped and lonely like he’s just spinning in the dark. Alarion moves so he’s standing between the two and takes a deep breath. There’s the smallest chance the man is wanting to reconnect and at least try and fix his relationship with his son.

“Don’t leave it like this Dorian... I may not like this prick, but... I can see the pain. Just a try.” He says softly. Dorian looks at him and nods. He walks up to Halward. Alarion stands back but is still ready to rip the older human apart.

“Tell me why you came.” Dorian says calmly or at least he is a bit more calm than he had been.

“If I knew I’d drive you to the Inquisition..” Dorian shakes his head and moves back a step.

“You didn’t. I joined becuase it’s the right thing to do. Once I had a father who would have know that.” Dorian turns and starts to walk to the door.

“Once I had a son that trusted me... A trust I betrayed.” Dorian paused turning to look back.

“I only wanted to hear his voice again... To talk to him and ask he forgive me.” Halward says softly and Dorian looks at Alarion who only slightly inclines his head. He sees the deep need in Dorian to fix this one burnt bridge in his past since his others were all beyond repair. The elf would do everything in his power to help the other. Alarion moves to the door and keeps it open barely a crack and waits there listening like a hawk for any sound of a scuffle or sound that isn’t hushed talking. When the mage exits he’s silent and they spend the ride back to Skyhold like that.

“He says we’re alike. Too much pride... Once I would have loved to hear that. Now... I’m not so certain... I don’t know if I can forgive him.” Dorian says staring out the window of his nook and Alarion watches him wanting to comfort the mage and woefully uncertain how.

“How’d he try to change you?” The elf asks softly.

“He was desperate. I wouldn’t play the part and marry the girl, keep everything unsavory locked away and private. Selfish, not wanting to spend my life screaming on the inside. He was going to preform some blood ritual. Alter my mind and make me... Acceptable. I found out and left.” Dorian says and Alarion feels ice run through him and he moves closer subconsciously knowing blood magic and demons were powerful enough that this was fairly possible.

“Are you alright?” He asks and the mage looks back and shakes his head looking back out the window.

“No. Not really.” He says softly. All the elf wants to do is hug the man.

“What he did was wrong.” The elf states stern and certain. Dorian shrugs.

“I think he knows that. Just struggles admitting it.” He says and Alarion can see why... Admitting a mistake was hard especially when they were proud and the Pavus family seemed to have that in spades.

“He’s a good man deep down... My father. Taught me how important principle is, he cares for me in his way. He’ll just never change.” Dorian sighs and Alarion shakes his head and swallows.

“Maybe you’ll work through it, see eye to eye.” He says though he wants to offer to kill the man. Dorian looks back at him with a slight half smile though it’s flat.

“You’re very optimistic, it’s charming really.” He says and Alarion smiles back feeling just as worn thin.

“Maker knows what you must think of me now after that display.” Dorian says as he walks up to Alarion who looks up at him feeling a sudden lightening rush over his whole form.

“I’ll never think less of you. If it were possible I think more of you.” Alarion states certain to his core and Dorian chuckles looking amused and fond at him and butterflies are dancing in his chest.

“My father never understood.. Living a lie it festers in you like a poison. You have to fight for what’s in your heart.” Dorian says fire and conviction in his whole form. Alarion feels it spread to him and speaks before he can think.

“I agree.” And he leans up as Dorian leans down to him and the kiss is like fire he never wants to stop. Dorian pulls back though.

“I didn’t think you’d enjoy playing with fire, Inquisitor...” He teases grinning stepping back into his safe pattern even as he wants to shatter it and burn. Damn all the consequences with the elf looking at him like he wants nothing more than him back in another kiss. He’s so terribly afraid... If he messes up he’ll fall hard. He doesn’t want to hurt like that.

“Anyway, time to drink myself into a stupor. That kind of day. Join me sometime if you’ve a mind.” Dorian says and Alarion smiles and nods and walks with the mage drinking with him and walking Dorian to his bed when the man is drunk and stumbling. He goes back to the bar after and joins Bull explaining it all and getting absolutely pissed laughing hysterically as Krem tells some ridiculous story of an old job involving tar and feathers. In the morning he wakes up curled up on Bull.

“Morning.” The Qunari says grinning as the elf goes white as a sheet.

“Not sore... Nothing happened I hope?” He asks and Bull shakes his head.

“Nah, I got morals, you were too trashed to leave alone. So... You have it hard for the vint?” He asks and Alarion looks away and curls back up.

“I want to make him happy... I want to skin his father. He’s sweet and soft under that bluster I’ve seen it... I want so much but he’s from a place that taught him it’s a shameful thing to love another man... His own father turned on him for it. Mine died protecting me and my sister. I don’t understand why family would do that.” Alarion sighs and Bull hmms.

“You’ve got work ahead of you then. He’s all tied up and content keeping those ties tight.” Bull says and Alarion hums thoughtfully.

“Let him set the pace.” He says and gets up thanking Bull he goes and the Qunari waves. Over the next weeks the elf shadows the mage and showering every hint he can making every advance and he is glowing when Dorian circles him in his rooms. He get’s flushed as Dorian purrs in his ear and Alarion pulls the mage into a kiss hungry and wanting everything Dorian will give.

“I want everything you’re willing to give me Dorian... I want you to be happy and I definitely want to be part of your life if you’ll have me.” Dorian paused in shock then just kisses the elf so very glad he’d let this elf in and shatter his walls and now there was this brilliant burning, bright light shining for him burning away everything and giving him someone to fall into.

#GET UP & WRITE!#GET UP & WRITE! July #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #elf inquisitor #alarion lavellan #Dorian Pavus #dorian x lavellan #inquisitor x dorian #dorian has issues

2 notes · View notes

gayregis · 5 years

Note

is yennefer actually really terrible and abusive in the books?? or are people exaggerating that. Asking u bc i trust ur assessment of characters

hell nah yennefer has her own issues but she gets through them

i think comparing yennefer to geralt is a good method of showing how she grows as a character because most are familiar with geralt’s character development and they have very similar arcs. [but just so anyone reading this knows… just because i am comparing them doesn’t mean i ship them ;)]

* also: a note that i think that yennefer, like all the women in this series, suffer from being written by a male author… but anyways…

in the beginning, they are both deeply flawed people. they are both hurt and scorned and believe that no one ever loves or has good intentions in this world. being abused as children and having difficult experiences as adults have made them close themselves off from the rest of the world.

in geralt, this manifests as being emotionally immature.

in yennefer, this manifests as being manipulative and cold-hearted.

abusive is not the term for what she does in the last wish, because she is not even in a relationship with geralt yet… she just uses magic to use him to fulfill a small agenda of hers when they first meet, as payment for her healing services for dandelion. the whole exchange is cold and bitter and does not really reveal who she actually is nor who geralt actually is. but because they have sex in the end of the short story, everyone seems to think this short story demonstrates exactly who their characters are.

in between the first two books, geralt and yennefer have a rocky relationship because they are both trying to open up and be emotionally mature, but they do not know how… yet.

in the bounds of reason, yennefer receives a little more development. we learn that she really tried her best to open her heart to geralt and it pains her to call it quits. we learn that she is trying in vain to reverse her infertility so that she may have a family. when geralt refuses to help her [kill the dragon to get its scales to reverse her infertility] and says that he does not feel anything towards her anymore, she does not hate him for it, as he expects her to:

The witcher smiled sadly (…).

“It’s too late, Yen (..) I don’t care anymore. In spite of everything.”

He expected the worst: a cascade of flames, flashes of lightning, blows raining down on his face, insults and curses. There was nothing. He saw, with astonishment, only the subtle trembling of her lips. Yennefer turned around slowly. Geralt regretted his words. He regretted the emotion from which they had originated. The last possible limit, like the strings of a lute, had been broken. He glanced at Dandelion and saw that the troubadour quickly turned away to avoid his gaze.

aka one of their most awkward encounters…

in this moment, we see that yennefer is vulnerable. she has human goals, intentions, and love in her heart. and even though geralt will not help her, she does not grow violent towards him. she accepts his choice. she doesn’t act like she did in the last wish, where their relationship was more tit-for-tat, you scratch my back and i’ll scratch yours… she does save geralt on the bridge as some kind of incentive, because considering how she was raised, she believes that is the only reason someone might love her or do something for her, but when geralt does not give her his services in exchange for her help, she does not treat it as if she planned it to be transaction. she does not act like a petulant child that did not get what they want. and she does not act violent towards villentretenmerth for his scales in the end. she accepts her fate…

a shard of ice further demonstrates that yennefer isn’t the manipulative witch she was set up to be in the last wish. she shows some pretty raw emotion and love towards geralt in these scenes.

blood of elves is probably where most of yennefer’s character development takes place as it begins with her saving dandelion and discussing how she views him and geralt and the entire situation. and then she becomes a mother to ciri.

im also gonna make a note here that in time of contempt at thanedd, some of the other sorceresses note that yennefer is not using magic to romance geralt... they are actually in love by their own volition.

time of contempt to lady of the lake is just yennefer consistently showing her devotion to ciri and geralt through putting her own life on the line again and again to help them. this is how she dies, in the end. because she refuses to abandon geralt and ciri.

“Let’s go… Yenna… Run!”

I’ve already heard that voice, Yennefer thought. From those lips that look wooded, without a droplet of saliva to wet them. from those lips that is paralysed with terror and shakes with panic. I’ve already heard that voice. On the Hill at Sodden.

When I was dying in fear.

Now he is dying in fear. Until the end of my days I’m going to be scared to death. Because those who do not break the cowardice, will be scared to death until the end of their days.

The fingers that Triss dug into her arm were like steel, Yennefer liberated herself from the grip with a great effort.

"Run if you want!” she shouted. “Hide under the skirts of the Lodge! I have to nothing left to defend! I will not leave Ciri alone! Or Geralt! Begone! Get out of my way if you appreciate your skin!”

The crowd keeping her away from her horse, retreated before the rays given off by the hands and eyes of the sorceress. Yennefer shook her head, ruffling her black curls.

tl;dr yennefer consistently proves herself to be dedicated to ciri and geralt and she’s not abusive at all. she starts out as a manipulative character, just as geralt starts out as a selfish bastard, but by the end they realize that there is something more in their world that deserves protecting other than themselves

#fish-mouth #ask #yennefer #the witcher

104 notes · View notes

demigodofhoolemere · 4 years

Text

Long bitterness below because I saw something that drove me crazy and I wasn’t gonna be able to rest until I articulated my frustrated thoughts

~~~~~

@ the person who wrote this I just wanna talk

https://screenrant.com/mcu-avengers-most-shameless-things-loki-ever-done/

Most of these are just outright wrong and it only takes the slightest glance at canon events to prove them as such, and the ones that have any amount of accuracy to them are devoid of critical context.

I don’t remember seeing much of this stuff before Ragnarok but it’s everywhere now and it’s kind of telling of the narrative bias that movie planted in everyone’s heads that people are now looking back with a lens that’s colored to be against him from the outset without bothering to take into consideration context, critical thinking skills, or empathy. The narrative tells us that he’s just bad so let’s not look any further than that I guess.

Wasn’t gonna debate each of them but the more I think about it the more it’s gonna bug me until I do, so here comes the bitter canon police...

Number 10

1) Right from the off: “Loki and Thor have always had a love/hate relationship — though it gravitates more toward the ‘hate’ part.” Um... always? Because last I checked, despite their differences, they grew up as best friends. Their problems that we see onscreen span from 2011-2017, a measly 6 years compared to over a thousand years of life together. This is a blip on the radar, one that certainly doesn’t constitute leaning towards mainly hate for each other. Heck, even during this time period, they’re clearly shown to love each other. Loki definitely gets angry, but I wouldn’t say he outright “loathes” Thor, at least not in a way that diminishes the love he also has for him.

2) “As such, Loki has betrayed Thor and his adoptive family many times.” This is so wrong I barely have the energy to explain why. People love to give examples of all of Loki’s supposed betrayals and they pretty much all fall down under scrutiny. The only ones I can understand listing are lying to Thor about Odin being dead, along with his attempts to kill Thor at the climax of the first movie (this stuff was when he was waaay out of his right mind, btw — not that he’s not responsible for his actions, but context is still important when taking into account anything he does), and various things in Ragnarok that were out of character for him to do in the first place. Anything else, even if it’s bad, cannot be counted specifically as betrayals against his adoptive family, since things like coming to Earth weren’t about them. If only a couple of instances are able to qualify as betrayals, then no, he has not done this “many” times, no matter how much people like to push that idea.

3) “Of course, Thor often got the brunt of it.” I’ll let that one stand because Thor got a fair number of screams aimed at him, but honestly, I’d say the person most negatively affected by Loki’s actions tends to be Loki. Thor really didn’t get more than he could handle. And as much as I love him, he’s not innocent of dishing his own stuff onto Loki as well. Wording it this way makes it sound like he’s Loki’s abuse victim (when more than anything, they are both the victims of Odin’s awful parenting rather than each other).

4) “So, it’s basically a normal sibling relationship that they portrayed. Oh, and Loki is never apologetic about his violence against Thor — siblings through and through.” First of all when I see stuff like this I have deep concerns for other people’s relationships with their siblings and am reminded of how grateful I am for my sister, but secondly, I don’t get the impression that Asgardians do much apologizing overall. You don’t see Thor apologizing for violence against Loki either. Terrible habit, but it seems to be the culture they were raised in. Besides, I feel like dying for Thor multiple times is decent substitution. (And while it’s not totally clear what he was specifically referring to, it’s worth noting Loki did profusely tell Thor he was sorry on Svartalfheim.)

Number 9

1) Oh my word, I am tired of seeing this. That scene was filmed as a real death, and everyone from Tom Hiddleston to Kevin Feige continued to refer to it as such after the reshoots. I wouldn’t know where to find it right now but I know there’s a quote from Kevin about it being real and that it was only just non-fatal enough for him to survive it. The only place anyone ever says he faked it? In Ragnarok, which is already filled to the brim with retcons, and it’s said by Thor (or whoever that is in Ragnarok who took Thor’s face) who has no knowledge of what really happened, he just makes assumptions and accusations that Loki isn’t given the chance to refute. It. Was. Not. Fake.

2) “He was rather casual about it and didn’t care much about how the rest of his family would take the news.” Source? We don’t exactly get the time to see his feelings on the matter. Also, Thor is the only one who would have cared anyway. Frigga was killed and Odin wanted him dead.

Number 8

1) “One of the reasons why Loki faked his own death was to seize a great opportunity [...]” He must not be good at carrying out his own plans then, since he immediately genuinely tried to offer the throne to Thor. Thor turned it down. Was there still satisfaction from getting the chance to prove that he can be a king? Yeah, because he’s still never felt like he’s been able to prove himself as equal. The chance to prove people wrong about him, and especially the chance to prove his own worth to himself, is exciting, hence that grin at the end. He’s certainly not upset at that opportunity. But that only happened because Thor didn’t take him up on the offer.

2) “The worst part was that he cast a spell on Odin and exiled him in a retirement home on Earth.” The... the worst part? That he removed the man who would have killed Thor upon return and was willing to have all of Asgard and everyone in it destroyed? And still had the mercy to send him somewhere that he’d be safe and taken care of every single day? Uh... okay.

3) “For a time, Loki ruled the Asgardians in their process of recovery from the Dark Elves’ attack.” Yeah, exactly. Thanks for aiding my point. Even Ragnarok of all things, despite the issues I have with the way Loki was portrayed as king, still manages to prove this point by showing things on Asgard being peaceful and repaired.

Number 7

1) Mostly correct this time, but missing the context of why Loki is angry enough at Odin to want the Dark Elves to go after him. Without considering all of the lies and heartache Odin caused that sent Loki’s mind spiraling in the first place, let alone the fact that he left him to spend the next 4,000 years of his life in solitary (which is outright torture, and Loki knew it would be because he seemed to have no problem with the thought of being executed instead), it makes it sound like it was a purely petty betrayal rather than based in any reason. Loki does everything for a reason.

2) “One would think that Loki would’ve learned a lot from this but he kept on being his usual self after a short bout of guilt and anger in his cell.” First of all I think you greatly underestimate how long that’s gonna stick with Loki. Secondly, if by ‘kept on being his usual self’ you mean the immediately following scenes wherein he helps Thor go get revenge on the monsters that killed Frigga and ultimately dies to avenge her and save his brother’s life, then you forgot the actual events of canon again and also inadvertently complimented him by saying that’s normal for him.

EDIT: You know how you can watch something a thousand times and somehow it takes that thousandth time to catch something? Yeah. Anyway, Loki directed Kurse to Asgard’s power plant so he could turn the shield off. THAT is what he was directing him towards, it was to let the Elves in to get to Odin. He didn’t even unknowingly lead Kurse to Frigga, Kurse just went where Malekith was, and Malekith found Frigga because she was guarding the Stone. Kurse would have killed her anyway, Loki’s actions had no bearing on that. Hold him responsible for getting the shield shut down and letting more Elves in (while still referring to point 1 for why), but Frigga’s death never had anything to do with him because Kurse got out anyway. Loki just doesn’t know that. But a character blaming themselves doesn’t mean they’re right.

Number 6

1) Another thing I wish would stop cropping up in all discussions of Loki. Stealing the Tesseract isn’t his ~thing~. I’m annoyed with this one just on principle lol.

2) “Throughout all the MCU movies, Loki has stolen the Tesseract at least thrice, each in three different movies. He just doesn’t know when to give up.” None of those times were just for the lolz like people say. In Avengers he had to get it for Thanos to save his life. In Ragnarok, what the heck was he supposed to do, leave an Infinity Stone floating around in space for anyone to get? It’s not like it would have been destroyed with Asgard. Better to take it and keep it safe. And in Endgame, while I felt that was starting to lean too much into ‘haha I love taking the Tesseract’ territory, it was to get away from the imprisonment and possible death that would have been waiting for him in either SHIELD or Asgardian custody. Loki does everything for a reason.

Number 5

1) “[...] he immediately embraced his evil tendencies.” ROFL I’m sorry but the idea of THIS kid having had prior evil tendencies is actually hilarious.

2) “[...] killing countless innocents on Earth [...]” In canon, there were 74 fatalities in the Battle of New York, which were caused by the Chitauri that Thanos sent rather than directly by Loki. Loki’s personal kill count on Earth can be listed on one hand — literally, it’s something like 5 confirmed onscreen deaths by his hand, with several other unconfirmed ones because we just see him attack but not how badly people got hit. The 80 people that Natasha mentions were the SHIELD agents that went down with the base in the beginning, which wasn’t Loki’s doing, outside of the few guards he killed when he got there. That was pretty easy to count.

3) “[...] and probably other planets as well.” Supposition. Not even the slightest bit of hinting of that in canon. Next.

4) Loki himself was being tortured and under extreme emotional duress and mental manipulation during this movie. Not that he’s automatically 100% absolved of responsibilities, because he did make choices of his own, but again - CONTEXT. This was a fight for his life. He was not well, physically, mentally, or emotionally. There is almost nothing he did in this movie that he would do under normal circumstances in his right mind.

5) “In addition to that, he also put his homeworld of Asgard in constant danger. Odin’s words about Loki being followed by death and destruction wherever he goes definitely rang true.” If you’re referring to the first movie when he lets the Jotuns in, both instances of that were planned in such a way that no Asgardians were supposed to be in danger; he couldn’t have known the guards to the vault wouldn’t be able to take them (and that first plan was intended to protect Asgard from a young and arrogant Thor’s reign; another of few instances that can count as betrayal, but done with reason), and the second time he brought them in was specifically to kill them because, with the combination of his unstable mind and the kind of things Odin praises, he thought it would finally gain him approval from his father (and he was raised with no regard for Jotun lives therefore he didn’t even grasp that it was wrong). That’s the only time Asgard was even slightly jeopardized by Loki. In every single other instance, he is pretty darn devoted to protecting Asgard. Time and again. Odin’s words are a load of crap. Loki has only been surrounded by things like that in the last couple of years, when out of his right mind or coerced or both. This is not something that has always been, and it’s certainly hypocritical for Odin of all people to be making accusations like that when he and his favorite son have done worse things. Heck, Thor’s body count on Jotunheim in the very beginning is on its own a larger number than Loki’s body count in the entire MCU, all for being called a princess. Many of the heroes in the franchise have worse — even significantly worse — body counts than Loki.

Number 4

1) Tortured and controlled by Thanos. Next.

2) “[...] the culmination of all of Loki’s plans ever since he left Asgard to become a villain.” For one thing I love how this makes it sound like he made the conscious decision to run away and be a villain lol, but I just... you remember how he left Asgard, right? When he made a suicide attempt by falling into the void that he could not possibly think he would survive through? He didn’t exactly have future plans in mind. He was trying to die.

3) Now you’re only assuming people died? I thought it was countless?

Number 3

1) This wasn’t a takeover of Asgard. Frigga, who knew that he’s a Frost Giant, appointed him as regent for the time being. What he did with the power is what’s questionable, but the way he got it was completely legit. There was no scheming — he didn’t even want it at first. The thought of proving himself got to his head but he didn’t take the throne purposely nor was it illegally, or done in deception or under false pretenses.

2) While the things he did were wrong, it was not technically a betrayal of Odin or Asgard. He did what he did precisely because it was the sort of thing his father and his people would usually see as heroic. If you wanna call it a betrayal of Asgard for taking the risk of having Jotuns there, I guess, but not of Odin, and it was not done maliciously towards them. The ones who actually suffered for this were the Jotuns.

3) “[...] quickly transformed into one of Asgard’s most dangerous enemies.” He transformed into Odin’s enemy. If he were an enemy of Asgard he wouldn’t have spent his years on the throne protecting it.

Number 2

1) This one is mostly fair and I consider this to be the worst thing Loki’s done. However, this is hardly about shamelessness. This (and seemingly all of the article) is written in the assumption that his actions were done in his right mind. Again: he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. That doesn’t exonerate him but it’s sure as heck important context.

Number 1

(covered the image because no one needs to see that)

1) “[...] betraying the whole universe just because you can is pure evil.” Yeah, it would be. Good thing for Loki then that that’s not what he did.

2) “Loki consciously served Thanos with the initial goal of becoming ‘king’ of the Earth.” Loki was consciously fighting to stay alive because disobedience and failure would mean unimaginable horrors.

Working with Thanos is NOT something he would do just because. As far as wanting to be king of Earth goes, Thanos canonically messed with Loki’s head. He made him think that was what he wanted, just like he dug into his mind to make him angrier at Thor. Thor himself, who has known Loki their entire lives, noted that his behavior and goals were uncharacteristic of him.

3) “It seems like Loki got his just desserts on that front.” Gotta say, I’m genuinely a little horrified when I see people say that Loki deserved that death. No one deserves to have their windpipe crushed and neck snapped brutally by their abuser. That was the most gratuitously graphic character death I’ve ever seen. Even if you think he wasn’t tortured by him before and willingly joined forces with him, he still wouldn’t deserve that fate. It’s too morbid for anybody. ‘Just desserts’ is supposed to be about justice. There’s no carrying out of justice here. It’s just senseless and cruel, and done to a man who had gotten out of the dark place in his life to start anew.

~~~~~

That was longer than I ever intended to let myself get worked up over a dumb ScreenRant post but I feel better with that out of my system.

Here’s to fact-checking before making accusations that have no basis 🥂

#as usual i’m trying to stay in my lane keeping my negativity under the cut but just beware that if you click you will see bitterness #marvel #loki #marvel critical #ragnarok critical #tbh mostly article writers critical #i long for the day when people stop writing about things that they don’t know well enough while acting like they’re obviously right

5 notes · View notes

motherstone · 4 years

Note

headcanons,,,, please

Ok old ask... Sorry I didn't answer immediately, because even though I have a lot of elaborate headcanons, my mind straight up blanked for several days seeing this question. Are you ready for the answers because a lot of them involves Elves and Trellis

Trellis was the walking encyclopedia in his village. It's a big pain in the ass walking all those stairs for knowledge, so if they want to know something, they'll ask him

Navin has ADHD. More on the inattentive type. No I will not explain this accept it

Humans aren't the original settlers of Alledia. The Elves were there first

Trellis's mother is trying to save Trellis, and thus was raised by her at his first 5 years, before being adopted by his uncle and is raised at their village

The Elves have the Six Monoliths. These are the main cultures upon where its many subcultures cam from, although a more accurate description is that there is one main culture, then branched off into 5, which then branched off even further and even intersecting one another. They represent Gulfen's values and beliefs. These indigenous people involves the same village where Trellis was raised

One of them are a warrior-based people, upon which many of their battle philosophies are based. They are also where the Elf King wears a mask comes from. Every individual in that village wears a mask of their own design and making to represent their "role", and it can change every time. Hence, why the King's role is unique. They are indiscriminate towards other people, and have no qualms of adopting other races, and has been known to adopt humans to raise as their own. They only have one word for parent, but has 65 words for weapons. They also believe in fighting only if it's necessary.

Another group of people are where Elven crafting skills came from. They believe in sharing what you have, and helling those who need help, and often create crafts to help disabled people, if said disabled person wishes so. They also believe the intergration of arts and sciences, and how both aren't inherently independent of one another. They express disdain over Windsor's use of bots and Cielis's robot working force. They feel like they only built those bots not because of appreciation for artificial intelligence, but because "if they could get away with slavery, they would".

The other group is one that values animals and nature. They believe in valuing all life, and to be thankful of your blessings. They are one of the last true hunter-gatherer societies. They show their appreciation towards animals they hunt by making sure to make use of what they have to offer. They believe that one shouldn't take more than what they could give, and hated that animals are used for war, as they are "companions", not "weapons"

Another group is one that honors history through performance art. Be it dance, music, oral storytelling, sign language or the most basic, written down. Many of Gulfen's history, be its most simple and peaceful to it's bloodiest and cruelty, are preserved thanks to their work. They believe in the preservation and the dynamic of culture, and the honoring in one's past and ancestors. That a tree cannot stand tall with its roots cut, and that the imperfections and wrongdoings are the most important lessons. They believe that a person only truly dies if their names are no longer spoken, be it in a negative or a positive way. This people have since then been wiped out since the current Elf King's ascension.

(headcanon that this is where Trellis's mother came from)

This group this time are nomads. They believe in one must be versatile and open to what the world has to offer. This is a source of their inspiration for art, bearing complex and beautiful designs, the most main medium being sewing. They employ geometric and natural designs, taking inspiration from whatever they experience. They have a certain metaphor that the world is a tapestry, and its many threads are the countless individuals that has woven in it, creating its complex, beautiful and terrible designs, and it weaves on and on. They believe in finding value over the simplest things, and one's peace can be found through humbleness and contentment. They are pacifistic

The last is probably the people in the village where Trellis lived in. They are the main culture, so they other five took at least some aspect of it and based their own culture around it. They represent the Elve's values of peace, love of community, righteous combat, value of nature and history, and the honor of one's memories and ancestors. Unfortunately the Civil war and the 50 year war has twisted all of their beliefs into twisted degress so they are all pretty chagrined, and have faced opression since the time of Levitas. There are more subcultures of course, but that's too long

Emily if fine with broccoli but hates cauliflowers, for some Reason

Stengard is sorta like,,, the church of Gulfen. It is also a subculture of the nature/history/nomad people. They call upon the ancestors for wisdom, and that is where the heirs to the throne are "baptized". It's a theocracy, basically speaking, with a High Priest/Pristess with holy guards and other religious followers. No they are not fanatics. They're pantheists. The structure of their building is that there's a lush garden at it's base, an elevated artificial river surrounds it, above it is high openwindows where they feed birds, and within it, is a fire that is never put out, only covered when mourning the death of a King or at war. Maybe I'd draw this (did anyone get the atla reference or). They have nearly the same design as Cielis, because they were built around the same time period and that sort of architecture designs were all the rage among elven architects

Let's ignore canon and let's just say that Riva was there when Cielis lifted itself and left the outsiders (the elves, the people affected by the Kanalian curse, and more) to be killed by the Elves. Hence why "Cielis" was burnt to the ground. A lot of people died, but instead of the outer ring dying out, it became the foundation for a mixed culture and a diverse city filled with oppressed people seeking to find refuge. It became a powerful city after the war and replaces Cielis as the capital of Windsor

After the war, every country hated Cielis because of the shit they pulled before, during, and AFTER it

Did I mention I hate Cielis? Yeah I hate Cielis. The architecture slaps tho

Riva's entire family was wiped out during the shadows invading Lucien because of either being possessed whenever they try to retrieve resources from the sources, or sickness from underground

Max became friends with Layra when he defended her from a bunch of racist kids. He got in trouble with his father because of it, but has spent every time with her family since. He considers them his real "family"

Max has a fascinatiom with Elven culture, in fact, a lot of hangout with Layra involves her talking about stories and whatnot about it

Back then, Kanalis has a huge issue with predator-prey instincts kicking in whenever someone is slowly getting transformed. It has a bloody history as a result. Thankfully a new medicine was invented that kept these instincts in check. After the war, the Council investigated, and finally broke the curse.

Many of the elves from Trellis's village didn't recognize him when he came back. "what happened to your face??" "Scratch that, what happend to your hair"

I have soooo much more headcanons do you even want to hear them

#ask #sorry abt that long post folks #but #if Kazu doesn't worldbuild the Elves then *cracks knuckles and cricks neck* i WILL

5 notes · View notes