#i lughed my ass off making the last one

[imalsohisheartguard]

#the things i go through for this blog #the stuff i have to watch for this fandom.... #i am sacrificing myself a little bit every day on here.. #kayvan novak #i lughed my ass off making the last one #sirens #wwdits

[margridarnauds]

But what would your ideal adaptation of CMT be like?

Thank you for the ask! (And for giving me the chance to talk about my actual child!) 

I meant to get to this yesterday, but I was in the library at the time, then I was at the post office, getting some of my books shipped back to the States before my move back, and then came the news of Level 5 and....Well. I was around town. 

TOUGH question, and one that I’ve been thinking about for ages. CMT IS my baby, so my standards for adapting it are, frankly, both ridiculously low (CMT ON SCREEN!) and ridiculously high (I stg if you do this wrong....) 

Personally, I have two ideas for it, one of which is more serious than the other, so I’ll deal with it first: 

A miniseries. Because I don’t think you can really DO CMT well in the course of a film. You could try, but I don’t think it would work. I would personally want it to be a part of an overarching series that’s just there to adapt the Book of Invasions. That way, there’s context for this. (And because I’m a biased bitch, I’d probably want it to begin with the Fir Bolg, with the previous invasions recounted. You could have Fintan as an overarching narrator, holding the various series together. Have a season dedicated to them, end it on the TDD’s arrival.) 

Now, what I’d want this miniseries to do:  - Have a setup where both Lugh and Bres are given equal amounts of time. A thing that I’ve noticed a lot of retellings doing is to make it so that Lugh is the unambiguous, shining hero and set off with that idea in mind from the beginning, with Bres being a cliched villain, but if you read CMT from the beginning....Bres is given a LOT of traits that we associate with heroes. The story of CMT even begins with his conception and birth. Bres, whether people like it or not, is a protagonist of CMT. He’s a villain protagonist. But a protagonist, right alongside Lugh. You can’t have Lugh without Bres, you can’t have Bres without Lugh, and I would LOVE for an adaptation to get to the heart of that dynamic. Start off with Bres, devote a couple of episodes to him and what makes him tick (while also setting up Lugh’s birth, since that’s taking place during his reign), and then show it all falling down. 

- Have one of the first images being of the Fir Bolg, led by Sreng in retreat. Look, I’ve accepted that the only one who really cares about Sreng as much as me is....me, and the only adaptation that would feature him as much as I would want is one that I’d be writing (IF I EVER ACTUALLY FUCKING WRITE THE FUCKING THING), but, if we CAN’T get him in there as a major character in his own right and Bres’ love interest, I would like to at least start it off with the understanding that the Tuatha Dé’s settlement of Ireland did happen over a LOT of Fir Bolg bodies. It makes their fight with the Fomoire a little more gray, because it’s suddenly less “THE FOMOIRE ARE INVADING THE TUATHA DÉ, HOW EVIL” and more “The TDD’s sins coming back to kick them hard in the ass”. The Fir Bolg had the land, the TDD challenged them for it, the TDD won. By medieval Irish standards, that was justified, as was the subjugation of the Fir Bolg afterward. But this is a modern adaptation, for a modern audience, and that doesn’t mean we have to be objective. Especially given that it forced the Fir Bolg to flee to the Fomoire, for fear of the TDD enslaving them. Ideally, the Fir Bolg’s history with enslavement would have been dealt with in the previous season, which would have started off with the Sons of Dela breaking out of Greece. 

- Present the Fomoire as Vikings. This is BIG to me because it’s VERY easy to make the Fomoire a Generically Evil, Dark Fantasy Race, which makes it very, very easy to do a black and white version of things. But I would rather show the Fomoire as a group of people who have their own priorities, their own cultural mores, but are still PEOPLE. Bres isn’t evil because he’s Fomoire (I hesitate to call him “evil” to begin with, but if we’re going to use that term...); he makes a series of bad judgement calls and turns traitor to his own maternal kin-group. Balor isn’t really evil himself, even if we go into the folktale variation where he wants Lugh killed at birth (personally, I kind of favor the CMT version of it where Lugh was just...born of an arranged marriage), is acting with the authority of a medieval Norse head of the household. Tethra is perfectly willing to go along with the raids in Ireland...but we know, from what happens later, that it isn’t because he has a personal vendetta, it’s just probably more convenient to him. And I wouldn’t expect ALL the Fomoire to get a ton of attention, because we still have to be concerned with time, but just enough to fill them out. 

- The only time I want to make an exception is Ruadan. Because we HAVE to get him fleshed out as well. We’ve got to see him as a young kid under Bres and Bríg’s feet, we’ve got to see the two of them pausing from the arguments that dominate their relationship during Bres’ kingship when they see him standing at the door, we’ve got to see him trying to adjust to the Fomoire, not QUITE fitting in (just like his father before him), but trying so, so hard. We’ve got to see Bres clinging onto him during the twenty years in exile, promising him that, one day, it’ll be worth it. Got to see Bres trying to not show the exhaustion from those twenty years in front of his son, even if we can see on Ruadan’s face that he knows. We’ve got to understand WHY he takes the mission up, the mission that he has to know will destroy his reputation if he fails (and if he succeeds), and we’ve got to understand why Bríg screams out in anguish when she sees his broken body “in his father’s presence”, Bres helplessly rocking him back and forth. I know we probably can’t get all of Bres’ kids (which is a pity because, honestly, Dui Temen and Indusa are probably my favorites), but if we can’t get all six of the Sibs, we’ve got to make sure that Ruadan is given a ton of fleshing out and development to make that one, horrifying moment strike true. Because that’s honestly, in my opinion, the single most poignant moment of the text and, if we don’t establish Ruadan off the bat, it loses that importance. 

--Indech, Indech, Indech as the primary villain. I love this Fomorian bitch so much and he gets no respect, generally being shafted for Balor. I know, limited time, but I would at least like to give him one or two scenes to establish himself as THE king of the Fomoire, next to Elatha, give him a bit of time to establish himself as a bitch, and give him his moment of “Their bones will be dust soon.” Because, let’s be real, that’s a kind of metal moment. Bonus if, when Bres is standing next to him, there’s this distinct moment of “Oh, shit, I did NOT think this through.” Possibly change the timeline around so that his.......”kidneys of valor” (THAT ARE NOT HIS TESTICLES, ABSOLUTELY NOT) are removed by the Morrigan AFTER Macha’s death, so that there’s this sense of catharsis. 

- Potentially controversial, but I like Early Modern Nuada, who, by the time of CMT, is a broken, jealous king. Have him decide not to try Dían Cecht for Miach’s death because, hey, they need him, and he DID do Nuada a favor. Have him hand over the throne to Lugh so that he can get rid of the Fomoire, yeah, but have him have doubts. Have him be jealous at the easy love that Lugh gains, while he can’t save his own people. Have him be paranoid about Lugh taking everything for himself and leaving him with nothing. Have him, as in the Early Modern recession of CMT, getting the TDD to drug Lugh before the battle, because, in that one moment, it doesn’t matter if the TDD win or lose, all he wants is for Lugh to be *gone*. And then have him redeem himself by challenging Balor to single combat, only to lose. Have Lugh, in those last few moments, promise to look after the TDD, whatever it takes. 

-Speaking of the Bitch, I REALLY want to see Lugh’s ruthless side. I know, even with a full miniseries, that we can’t get into, say, the Sons of Tuireann, because even though I’d love to spend a whole episode on that....places to go, people to see. But I would like to see at least a little of that part of Lugh that is willing to do anything, ANYTHING for the sake of the TDD, and that makes him do, arguably, worse things than even Balor and Bres for the sake of it. When Bres goes to plead for his life at the end, I want Lugh staring down at him, completely impassive. Around the two of them, there are bodies scattered EVERYWHERE, the ground absolutely drenched in blood, Bres himself is absolutely covered in blood and gore, his body held to the ground by an Ogham stone that Ogma put there (in my ideal world, where we get to establish the brothers and their relationship, it would be his one, last ditch effort to save Bres from himself), and there’s Lugh, totally pristine, his blonde hair perfectly curled, looking down at him like you would at a cockroach. When he says “Less will save you”, I want him to not even really be looking at Bres, but more at his goblet of wine, and then, when he accepts Bres’ terms, I want a zoom-in on that wine goblet, and specifically the dark red liquid in it, as an ominous theme begins to play. (I KNOW we can’t get to Bres’ death, but also....let me have at least a call forward to it. There’s a lot of Dindshenchas CMT-aligned material that I would LOVE to see, including Duirgen, Carn Hui Néit, Nás, and Carmun, but that...well. Time. Which is a pity because Carmun is probably my FAVORITE of the Dindshenchas stories.)

- A little bit of screen time for the ladies. Again, time is time, but it’s very easy to turn CMT into a boys’ story, which isn’t helped by the message of the original being quite patriarchal (THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET LADIES GET INTO POLITICS: A HOT MESS). But I actually really am interested in the women of the text. Ériu loves her son SO MUCH that she’s willing to turn her back on her people for him, and I’d love at least one flashback sequence, probably when Bres is making the decision to leave the TDD, around the end of....episode 3-4 I want to say, and we get to see Ériu as a young mother, holding Bres in her arms and smiling, even as the rest of the TDD look on her with anxiety, with her promising her that, no matter what, they’ll have each other. I want to see the Morrigan and Macha both trying to convince her to abandon Bres, because they don’t want to lose their sister, but Ériu standing firm in her decision. (She isn’t a warrior like them, but she’s strong in an entirely different way, with a spine of steel, and the other two know it.) I want to see Macha’s death at Balor’s hands and see the Morrigan and Badb losing their absolute SHIT for the first time (as a future archnemesis of theirs would say: “All sport, all play until......” The battle’s been FUN up until this point, but then suddenly it becomes very, very real to them.) If we could get a little of Tailtiu’s fosterage of Lugh, her status as an outsider (the Spanish widow to the last king of the Fir Bolg, trying to find her way among the invaders, dealing with the loss of her only biological son), and her own trace of ruthlessness, I would be VERY happy, especially since you can....see how Lugh turns out the way he does. Both the good and the bad. And we could probably handle that in just one scene, possibly in around episodes 2-3 during Bres’ reign. I’d also LOVE it if we could get a moment where, after Ruadan’s death, she’s the one to go over to Bríg and clasp her hand. Because, even if their husbands (possibly ex-husband in Bríg’s case, depending on how we deal with her dynamic with Bres) hated one another, Tailtiu knows fully well how it feels to lose a son, and it gives a chance for there to be a moment of humanity in a text that can be very inhumane at times. I’d love to see Cethlenn BEGGING Balor to not go to the battle, since she does have the power of foresight, but for it to be very obvious in her eyes that she knows that he isn’t going to accept it and then for her to straighten her back and wish him well. Because their love story is built as much on shared duty as it is on passion, and she knows that it has to be this way, he’s got to choose this, and she’s got to let him and keep her dignity. 

-This is probably highly wishful thinking, but I kind of liked Vikings’ idea of switching between English and the historically accurate dialogue, depending on the perspective. I think it would be HARD to pull off, but I’d love to see it going between Old Irish, English, and Old Norse, just to really show off that these are two very different cultures. IDEALLY, I’d also, in my absolute, ideal world, have audio dubbing in Gaeilge as well. It would be a hell of a venture, but I’m very firmly of the belief that this is an Irish story, it deserves to be told in Irish. 

-Relating to that: Irish cast (for the TDD/Fir Bolg, Scandinavian for the Fomoire), as much as you can possibly do. (Given that the total population of the entire island’s around 5 million, it’s a tall order, but hey.) IDEALLY, I’d want there to be also be regional variation in the accents: The Dagda will always, to me, have a Dublin accent, Ogma coming from Roscommon, Bres having a Northern Irish accent. If Sreng shows up, I’d want him to have a Cork or a Limerick accent, etc. Again, it’s a tall order, and one that I don’t think could be easily done, but a girl can dream. My ultimate goal would be to at least have a higher Irish: English ratio than The Tudors. That’s my dream. (I have but one really HARD casting decision and that’s Sarah Bolger as Airmed. Please. Please. GIVE HER THE ANGST. GIVE HER THE QUIET TERROR AND THE DADDY ISSUES. WE KNOW SHE CAN DO IT. That and Ruth Negga as Tailtiu.) 

- Also, ideally, I would like to have a situation where you have experts in archaeology, medieval Ireland and, specifically, Irish mythology on set to make sure that it’s as historically accurate to the 9th century as you can get without becoming bogged down in it. (Medieval Irish costumes...aren’t really.....glamorous, but I would like to see a nice streamlining of it that keeps the feel of the era while also, frankly, looking really, really cool.) For Nuada’s hall, I’d want to make sure that we actually had a reconstruction of the Great Hall at Tara (WHICH IS REALLY COOL IF YOU EVER FIND YOURSELF IN TARA, NGL) as people in the middle ages would have imagined it. This long, narrow hall lit by torches, Lugh almost having to walk over a few people’s legs to get to the front, and there, at the head of it all, is the king. People from UCD, UCC, Trinity, etc. (Maybe even get some people from Maynooth, if they promise to behave.) If I know my fellow Celticists well enough, I think a few of them would even jump at the opportunity to be a part of something like this. (I know of at least one expert in Old Irish who actually translated a spell for the Grimm TV show.) Basically, medieval Ireland almost NEVER gets put on screen (Pilgrimage is the last example that I can really think of, if we’re not counting Secret of the Kells, which we probably should because, tbh, awesome), and Irish Mythology gets it even less, so this would, theoretically, probably be our ONE CHANCE to get this done and get this done right.  

-Animated opening screen, Secret of the Kells style, in the style of an illuminated manuscript. PLEASE. I NEED IT. Either that or, if we can’t get something like that, I would love to see something that covers the entirety of Ireland, matching up the different characters to different locations, since the landscape is SUCH a huge part of these myths. You know. Like. That one fantasy show. The one with the dragons. And the zombies. 

Now, for my SECOND idea for an adaptation: 

A musical. Of COURSE I would want a musical. Like, it’s a no-brainer for me. Musicals thrive off of emotion and drama, and CMT has a TON of it. Now, what type of musical? That is the question.

And I’m actually being serious when I say this. 

Even though it’s going to sound cracky and tbh, it definitely is. But it’s also me. And what is CMT if not a 9th century scribe’s crackfic of Irish Mythology, put to contemporary political themes and using traces of Indo-European tradition? 

.....

A Takarazuka style musical. Because, goddammit, with their high focus on glitter, I feel like they’re the only ones who could TRULY put Bres and Lugh on stage, and their habit of letting pretty villains off the hook could work really, really well in Bres’ favor. That and I find the idea of them trying to adapt a myth with as much blood, guts, and sex in it as CMT personally hilarious. Lugh/Bui becomes the Top Star combo. Does Bui have all that much to do in the original CMT? No. But she’s our love interest. So she gets Top Star role, and at least one solo song. That’s probably all about how she’ll wait for Lugh no matter what. (We, of course, ignore her cheating on him.) Bres gets only one song, but it’s a showstopper, probably when he decides to fuck off to the Fomoire, and he and Lugh have OODLES of homoerotic tension. (If it were an adaptation of the first battle, Bres and Sreng would get. So. So much. But, alas.) If we don’t have Bres acting like a jealous boyfriend whenever he sees the TDD supporting Lugh, causing him to break out into a song about how much he HATES stupidly-hot Lugh, what’s the point? (Also: The chance for Goth!Bres. Which is, tbh, the Bres that I need in my life.) Also: Glorious costumes all around. 

The Dagda is the hapless comic relief character, who goes on PG-at-most antics. Probably involving eating a lot of porridge, hitting on every lady in sight (but of course not doing ANYTHING else) and passing out. He and Tsundere!Morrigan function as the Beta couple. 

Elatha is like. The Older Villain character, along the lines of, say, Mazarin in All For One, Talleyrand in Robespierre, Don Ferdinando in El Japón, etc. Balor probably wouldn’t be able to make it on screen, but...as an admitted and confirmed Bres Stan...........I’ve seen so many adaptations that don’t include Bres and make Balor the principle villain that...................sorry :) Balor :) That’s :) Very :) Tragic :) For :) You :) I LIKE Balor, but if he and Bres were dangling off a cliff....I’ve got to go for the pretty one with daddy issues and poor life choices, sorry Balor. 

Personally, I WOULD rather have Bres as the viewpoint character, with a Frozen “Monster”-esque number where he realizes that he’s the villain of the story but, unlike Elsa, decides to succumb to it, but I also know fully well that Lugh is basically MADE for the Takarazuka stage as a hero so...

The last time Takarazuka did something Irish-themed was in....I want to say 1994, with the Afterglow of Eire, and you know what? It’s time. If they did this for me, I would buy the DVD and force every single Celticist I know to watch it. And then make enough gifsets that you wouldn’t be able to THINK about Takarazuka on here without also thinking of “CMT” and vice versa. I would love it so, so much, no matter what they did. And I would, of course, relentlessly make fun of it as well. But in a loving way. (Even if they went the predictable route and went for Creepy!Bres.)

Alright, I said “two” but ngl, I came up with a third while I was writing this up:  A comic book. Because I feel like, in some ways, it’s the only way you can really capture that larger than life aspect. (Ditto for works like the Táin, which can only really be done either via comic book or anime. Not that I’m opposed to an anime with Bishounen!Lugh/Bres. Which wasn’t intended to be a slash ship but I said what I said. Cursed. But hey.)  

#irish mythology #long post #Anonymous

[natashaswinterwolf]

Day 7- Nimulot week St. Patrick’s Purgatory  from Draoight

                       Chapter Text    some humor

The two day’s ride ended up being three, the weather and terrain slowing the horses down. The mountains in the distance were already frosted with snow, and the horsemen could tell it would be descending into the valleys in a short while. Worrying about her people, Nimue wondered if it would be possible for her and Lance to perform the rite out in the open in the cold. Lancelot was up for anything where sex with Nimue was concerned but a turn in the weather forced them to seek shelter in one of the many caves that dotted the landscape.

Of course caves were places of magic and one could stand at the mouth of cave and stare out at forever. Lancelot and Merlin gathered firewood and Morrigan used magic to dry it out quickly. A nice fire chased the chill away, but it would eventually come back and they needed to be settled by then. And settled on this night meant a warm woman in your arms with a saddle pack under your head. For Lancelot and Nimue it was a familiar position. Morrigan and Merlin had to work on it.

During the night a family of wild cats entered the cave and made their beds near the cavern wall. A solitary fox actually bedded down near the fire. They all left before the fey awakened, but Lancelot knew they had been there.  

“We had visitors last night,” he told Nimue with a smile on his face as he repacked their saddle bags.

“What kind?”

“A fox and some cats.”

“I wish I had seen them,” she replied with a wistful smile. Once the horses were saddled, they rode out into the chilly morning. The ground crunched beneath their hooves, but within the hour they were topping a ridge and pausing to gaze out across a long narrow valley. In the distance frosted with snow a blue mountain range rose above it.

Merlin led them into the valley, Lancelot bringing up the rear. By midday they were standing at the edge of Lough Derg, and Merlin was horrified. “There’s a church on our island,” he said in amazement. “I thought you said there would be dobharcus and lake monsters. Instead we are going to be facing monks….no offense.”

“None taken,” Lancelot answered.

“I haven’t been here in a thousand years,” Morrigan replied defensively. “How was I to know they would build a church on THAT island.”

“What we need is there,” Merlin continued. “There is supposed to be a cave on the island and the shard we need is there.”  Looking around for a way to cross to the island, he said, “I would rather deal with dobharcus.” Spying a dock with a pair of curracgs tied to it, they walked over to see if anyone would take them to the island.

“I’ll stay with the horses,” Morrigan offered. “No monk is going to believe I’m one of them.” To Nimue, she said, “You’ll need to cover your hair.”

“Or I could stay with you and not upset the monks,” Nimue offered.

“Cowards,” Merlin snipped and looked up at Lancelot. “They have a point but you don’t.”

“I said nothing,” Lancelot spoke up in defense of himself.

“You don’t have to. Come on, let’s see how much it will cost to sail over to the island. And we have to leave our weapons here.”

Nimue and Morrigan watched the currach slide across the water towards the island. “He really was looking forward to seeing a dobharcu,” Morrigan remarked as she waved her fingers at Merlin.

“I think Lancelot was too,” Nimue added wishing now that she was going with them, although an island of monks did not appeal to her. And there probably wasn’t any room for her on the boat.

The currach beached and the oarsman said, “I’ll be back in three days.” And he shoved off.

“Three days?” Merlin muttered to himself. “I do not plan on being here three days.” Lancelot didn’t say anything; some monks were coming to welcome them.

“Brothers,” the elder of the two greeted them with extended hands. “Welcome to St. Patrick’s Purgatory. “I am Brother Aedan and this is Brother Daniel. You will find inner peace as you fast and pray for the next three days.”

Merlin grimaced at the thought of fasting for three days. “I am honored to meet you Brother Aedan, this is my son Bradan.” Appreciating his own joke, Merlin explained, “His mother had a love of fish.”

“The fishing is excellent here,” Brother Daniel included.

Merlin looked around, noting that everything was wrapped in winter brown…except. “Is that Crios Conchulainn growing there?” he asked and pointed at the lush blooming white flowers.

“We prefer to call it meadowsweet, but aye, isn’t it remarkable?” Brother Aedan replied and led them to the very shallow iron planter. “They bloom year round without any help from us. A true miracle from God.”

A miracle all right but not from God. Merlin recognized the bottom portion of the Dagda’s cauldron. He knelt down on one knee and ran his hands over it. He could feel the magic rolling off it. Glancing up at Lancelot, he said, “We have certainly come to the right place.”

Lancelot gazed thoughtfully at the piece of iron and knew without a doubt his soul was going to burn for all eternity, because they were about to rob a church. The brothers led them to the chapel where they could pray in peace as they were the only guests on the island. Kneeling at the alter in the candle lit church, the smell of honey filling the air, Merlin looked at Lancelot and whispered, “I didn’t realize it was that big. We won’t be able to just tuck it under our cloaks and run.”

“We’ll need our own currach,” Lancelot realized aloud.

Merlin thought hard. Where was Scuabatuinne, the Sweeper of the Waves? Who got it after Lugh was killed? If only he could contact Morrigan or better yet Nemglan. “Can you reach out to Nimue?”

“I have to be touching a green plant.”

“The flowers. If you can reach her, tell her to send Morrigan this way.” When Lancelot hesitated, Merlin said,  “Do it now before they go somewhere else.”

Lancelot made the sign of the cross and rose from his knees.

“I can’t believe I’m about to rob a church.”

“It was ours first,” Merlin reminded him. “Don’t be long.”

Going from Christian rites to pagan ritual was making Lancelot a little disorientated.  Keeping his head down and his hands clasped in prayer, he returned to the meadowsweet and ran his hand over them. Keeping it hidden as best he could, he reached out to Nimue. Several heart beats later she appeared to him.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, her background indicating she was indoors somewhere.

“We found it.”

“Where?”

Lancelot lowered his gaze to the flowers. “Merlin needs to see Morrigan. I have to go.”

Nimue watched him vanish and turned to her roommate in the hostel run by the Sisters of Eternal Grace, yes she and Morrigan were hanging out with nuns. “Seems that they found the piece they were looking for, but Merlin wants to see you.”

“I should fly over now,” Morrigan teased. “Give the monks a big thrill, but I’ll go tonight.”

Merlin was beginning to think she wasn’t coming when the large back raven settled on the dry lawn. Within seconds she was Morrigan cloaked all in black from head to toe. “It’s about time,” he greeted impatiently.

“You didn’t want me to come in the middle of six o’clock mass did you?” she retorted.

“I need you to find my currach.”

Morrigan looked at him as if he were crazy. “Do you have any idea where it might be?” she asked.

“Maybe Naas? I don’t know. Find Nemglan and ask him to send his birds out.”

“It might take a few days.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Merlin retorted. “I just hope they don’t try to baptize me before you get back.”

Morrigan looked up at the silent Lancelot. Such a tall sweet baby. Slipping her arms around his neck she kissed him. A little magic got his lips parted for a slip of the tongue. And then she released him. “That’s from Nimue,” she said and flew away.

Merlin snorted, “Nimue, my ass.”

Sleep depravation did not bother them; they were fey after all and sleep was not essential to their existence. And fasting, while annoying to a man used to several meals a day, did not weaken them, but the constant praying and pretending to pray was taking its toll on Merlin. Lancelot taught him a few lines to speak in the presence of the monks, who owed their lives to the fact that Lancelot had left his swords with Nimue and Merlin could not convince him to just strangle them.

On the third day without any sign of Nemglan or Morrigan, they stepped into the rented currach for the ride back to mainland. Merlin didn’t know how they were going to get back to the island, but he was not leaving without that piece of the cauldron. Half way to the shore, a large white cob flew by with a raven following. Nemglan! And he had something around his neck on a leather string. His currach! It had to be Sweeper of the Waves!

Merlin and Lancelot were dropped off at the pier, where they were met by Nimue. Did she ask her father how he was doing? Or did she throw her arms around Lancelot and not come up for air for several seconds?

“People are staring,” Merlin warned her. “I mean I can’t remember if he’s your brother or not.” Gazing out at the large swan floating by, he said, “You’re late.” The swan flapped his wings but settled back in the water. “I am going to get something to eat…please tell me there is food around here somewhere…and when it’s dark we’ll come back.”

The Sisters of Eternal Grace served hot oatmeal flavored with cream and honey. Merlin ate because he was starving. Morrigan joined him and together they watched Nimue and Lancelot try to flirt without anyone noticing.

“You realize everyone knows what you are doing,” Merlin remarked and stuffed a wooden spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. Nimue moved her hand from Lancelot’s thigh and scowled at her father.

Morrigan turned to Merlin and asked with a smile, “Were we ever like that?”

“Like what?” he asked and shoveled more oatmeal into his mouth.

“Innocent.”

Merlin thought about it as his daughter scowled at him. “Never.”

Morrigan arched a fine black brow and finished her oatmeal. Humans ate horrible food. How were they ever capable of driving the sidhe underground?

Once it was good and dark, and they had their horses saddled and ready, they returned to the lake where Nemglan waited in swan form for them. Merlin took the leather thong from his neck and held the small palm sized object for the first time in centuries. “The Sweeper of the Waves,” he said in awe and started unfolding the currach.

Nimue and Lancelot watched in amazement as the small leather packet grew bigger with every unfold. This was real magic. Soon a full sized currach settled in the water. “Get in,” Merlin told Lancelot. “Nemglan we will need you.” The swan hissed and flapped his enormous wings to rise gracefully from the water. Morrigan shifted into a raven and joined him. Nimue wasn’t going to be left behind this time and jumped into the leather boat.

“Take us to the island,” Merlin said once he was settled. Without oar or wind the magical currach backed from the shore and slid smoothly across the water. Nimue grabbed Lancelot’s arm as they covered the distance without a ripple of water. Nemglan and Morrigan, still in bird forms, waited for them. Nemglan shifted into his very naked human form and helped pull the currach up to the bank. Nimue stayed in the Sweeper

The three men quietly approached the planter and studied it for a moment. “Save the flowers?” Nemglan asked Merlin.

“Leave them in the hole, maybe they won’t notice,” Merlin said. “Lancelot, use your dagger to loosen the dirt.”

Lancelot withdrew his dagger and jabbed it into the soil around the edge of the pot. Only the bottom part was the cauldron, but the planter had been added to. Once the flowers were free, the men could removed the extra part, put it in the hole and return the flowers to it. Merlin picked it up and carried it quickly back to the currach setting it in the middle of the boat. Lancelot hopped in and grabbed the edges Merlin climbed in last and with a thought sent the boat back across the waters.

They packed the large piece of iron on the pony mare while Nimue stroked her head. Then Merlin took the currach out the water, folded it back into a small package and slipped it into his pocket. Morrigan assumed her human form and mounted her white mare. Nemglan flew home.

Merlin paused a moment to decide which way they should go. The sea was pulling at him, beckoning him home.  Turning his horse towards the southwestern end of the valley, he urged his horse on. They would reach the coast by noon the next day.

#nimulotnimulot weekcursedcursed netflix

[thenorthernrecords]

The Deliverance -- Part Two

As they waited, Jacob set up the table for the Sargenis sisters, Levon, and the others who were arriving to sit. He had ale and mead brought, because the atmosphere told them they would all need some drink. Fay, Riley, and Levon had sat down, and eventually, the maidens helped his wife Carolina out.  When they began to pull out a chair to help her sit, Jacob clicked his tongue, wagged his index at them, and motioned for them to help his wife to him. Once they got her close enough, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Caro’s waist, placing him nice and easy on his lap.

“... It’s more secure than a chair,” Jacob told the rest who stared amusingly, before he cleared his throat, “Anyway, Carolina, I don’t know if you’re aquainted with them yet, but these are Slania’s older sisters, Fay and Riley, Fay’s husband Levon. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the beautiful wife of the jarl by now --”

Polite greetings were made around the table and eventually, Katy walked in, followed by Hana Yasmin, and to his surprise, Estefania.

“Hello girls -- Oh, she knows?” Jacob asked Stef, and smiled when he got a nod in confirmation. 

Katy sat next to her father, and after Hana Yasmin had gone around the table greeting everyone, Fay fished out a folded letter towards Hana Yasmin.

“Hana Yasmin, I was told to give you this letter. It’s from Eamonn.” Fay began quiet, causing Hana Yasmin’s brows to furrow instantly, “...You should read this on your own, and make your own judgement upon it.” 

Hana blinked in confusion, as Estefania behind her raised her brows. Hana nodded, and began to walk towards the exit. She paused by Stef, and mumbled something to her, and Stef nodded, following. They paused at the door as Slania stepped in, and there was a quick greeting. Slania frowned and watched the two women walk off.

She slowly, almost cautiously, walked in, with Benjamin walking in right after. Slania’s growing, almost giant dog, Lugh, had entered, but stayed by the door, like a guard dog. Slania rose her brows as she approached the table.

“ ... ‘ello?” She said with uncertainty. 

Jacob watched as Riley and Fay turned around and practically flew out of their seats. Riley practically ran to Slania, with Fay close behind. Riley was the first to reach Slania. She almost leaped on her much taller sibling in order to embrace her, and Fay followed soon after, wrapping her arms around Slania and Riley. Jacob and the rest at the table watched as Slania almost fell back, but remained steady on her feet, looking puzzled.

“We’re so happy to see you!” Riley squeaked.

“We’ve been so worried,” Fay said at the same time, overlapping their sister’s words.

“Um... Hello to you too?” Slania said, followed by a little awkward laugh, embracing her sisters too. She stepped back and eyed them both, “...While I’m happy to see you here, I’m confused by your presence... does Eamonn know you’re here?”

Fay and Riley looked at each other and Slania understandably began to look concerned.

“Please sit down, Lani, there’s things we need to talk about.” Fay told her.

Slania raised a brow, but stood made her way to the only vacant seat, which was right by Jacob’s right hand. She waved hello to Benjamin and Levon, then she extended her hand towards Carolina, squeezing it once she held it, telling her how good it was to see her up and about. Jacob smiled upon seeing the interaction. He knew Carolina didn’t have any family aside from her estranged, idiot brother, Michael, and since they got married, Slania was her family too. So, he hoped they could get to know each other better as such. 

Jacob watched as Slania then looked at her sisters across the table, and he could just see her instantly tense up.

“Eamonn’s not dead, but ... he’s gone.” Fay said, which caused Slania to blink.

“What?” 

Fay and Riley proceeded to tell Slania, Jacob, and Carolina everything that had occured in Connacht: the attack on Deirdre’s home (the one where Jacob and Carolina went to shortly before his Aunt-in-law passed away), the battle that ensued afterwards, and the aftermath, which involved Eamonn departing from his family forever.

Jacob could feel Carolina’s hand on his, and he mumbled that he was fine in her ear, but he wasn’t exactly fine. He felt irritated. When he looked over at Slania, he could see, at first, that she had a calm look on her face, but as he looked on, he could see muscles in her neck tense up -- she wasn’t happy either, especially since Fay looked like she was going to cry and Riley weeped openly.

“So, you won’t have to worry about Vali Kveldulf joining with your foes, or coming here.  We did more research and we found out that Kveldulf is dead. He died not so long ago. We believe that his death is what prompted his sons to waged war against Eamonn and us.” Fay continued on, “This is the letter he left you.”

Fay slid the letter to Slania, who took it and opened it. When she read it, she lightly scoffed and passed it on Jacob, who read it with Carolina reading along too.

“So, he leaves Slania the legacy of the family, and says I’m allowed to call myself Sargenis too...How charitable of him.” Jacob smirked bitterly, as he was proven once again that his cousin really didn’t listen to a word he said.

The rest of the letter was a lengthy apology towards Slania, how he was sorry he had to leave, and sorry for all the harm he caused. He told Slania she was more worthy of carrying out their father’s legacy and he hoped his absence helped her move on. He signed it with “Your brother for one last time, Eamonn,” which caused Jacob to let out a sigh and toss the letter on the table. The man had been dramatic until the very end.

Silence engulfed the room for a few moments, before Slania crossed her arms and spoke, finally breaking the silence.

“So, it’s done then.” Slania said casually, leaning back against her chair.

“...That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Fay asked incredulously, beginning to cry, which surprised Jacob since the woman was known to be the more composed one. Levon put an arm around Fay, trying to comfort her, but she continued: “Our brother is gone forever, Lani!”

“Your brother is gone, Fay and I’m deeply sorry for you both. Truly I am. But, who lingered here was meant for you both and Hana Yasmin.”  Slania said seriously, sitting up again, “He gave you both a personal farewell, and I get a letter. How am I supposed to react, hm? Should I cry more? I spent years crying over him.”

Fay grimaced, which caused Riley to interject tearfully, “We didn’t mean to offend you, Lani, we just ... we just expected you to be as upset as we are. Aren’t you a little upset? I know Jacob isn’t, he hardly knew him.”

“And I’m glad I didn’t know him better,” Jacob said with a shrug, lifting his cup to take a drink, “Look, I’ve seen how Eamonn had treated Lani, and I’ve heard about how he’s treated you both. I know you all loved him, and sure, perhaps a part of me did wish that we bonded as cousins, but ... do you deny that he brought you all a lot of grief?”

“No... we don’t,” Riley replied, “But he’s our little brother--”

“And he was Slania’s older brother,” Jacob said, beginning to feel irritated again, “It’s an older brother’s fucking job to protect their younger siblings, and he chose to fail at it. He was so busy with his head up on own fuckin’ ass, he didn’t have time to care about what happened to her.”

“Jacob...” Slania told him quietly, putting a hand on his arm, “It’s alright.”

Jacob huffed and leaned back against his chair. “I’m just fuckin’ tired of this. He’s done nothing but cause Slania and my family harm. I almost lost my wife here, our children... I’m sorry for you both but I’m not sorry he’s gone. Leaving was probably the most considerate thing he’s done.”

Fay and Riley looked surprised by this revelation, and then, crestfallen. 

“We didn’t know, I’m sorry...” Fay said sincerely, with Riley silently nodding while crying.

As Jacob nodded, Slania put her hands on the table. “Eamonn is not responsible for the fire and attack, but he is responsible for taking away all of our options. We tried to tell him, but he dismissed us as children despite both of us being fully grown adults with actual experiences. As a result, I almost died.”

Riley covered her mouth and Fay looked like she was about to lose it. “What?!” She asked loudly.

“I was trying to help the people and I got cornered. I got severely injured...” Jacob could just see how uncomfortable she was telling them as she cringed visibly, “Had it not been for a friend of mine who found me, I would have bled out.”

“Why...Why didn’t you tell us, Slania?!” Fay asked exasperatedly, “How could you not tell us?!”

“Because I didn’t want you angry at him.”

“You’re our family too!” Cried Riley.

“After father died, I felt like I didn’t belong in it. You three and mother always spoke about Wexford this, and Wexford that ... and I stupidly sat there, not knowing a damn thing. Why do you think I sought Jacob?” Slania pointed at him, “Besides, Eamonn made you feel awful for not loving his friend, and he made Fay feel awful about father, which caused a rift between you both and Eamonn for years. You all finally made amends and I didn’t want to ruin that because the three of you needed it..”

“...You wouldn’t have ruined anything, Lani,” Riley said so sadly, her voice broke, it made Jacob sadly frown.

Slania smiled weakly and nodded, “Thank you for telling me that. Listen, I loved Eamonn with all of my heart, and a part of me always will. In the letter, he told me he understands why I hate him, but I don’t hate him. He’s whats left of mother and father besides me, so I can never hate him ... but...” She let out a long sigh, “I always wept over him. For years, I cried. And I believe it’s because, without realizing it, I was already mourning him. Truthfully, Eamonn died the day our father died. What remained here was a shell of who he was, a shell that could perhaps bring comfort to you two, and even Hana but ... not to me. But, I am glad you are both still here, just as I’m glad that Jacob and his family are now here too.”

She stood up, “We have more to speak about, but I really must return to my duties. If you stay longer, we can talk more later.”

“We’re staying!” Riley instantly replied, wiping her tears.

“Yes,” Fay agreed, “We intend to stay for a while.”

Slania smiled warmly and nodded, then walked out, everyone’s gaze following her as she and her wolf hound left. 

Jacob cleared his throat. “Ladies, you and Sir Areli here are welcomed to stay either here, as we have spare rooms, or in the inn where I believe Ben and Katy have been staying...”

The Areli siblings, who had been hearing everything in silence, nodded.

“But for now... who wants dinner?”

#Jacob #Fay #IT'S A LONG ONE Y'ALL

[fuwafuwamedb]

So ikd if this seems weird but i wanna tell this to someone who likes Fate and is approchable and you seem like the best option. I strated playing FGO a while back and i have a bit of a problem with Fergus, that being that i kinda hate him. I didnt care much about him and then played Agartha and now i can't even look at him anymore. I did hear from others that he's actually not that bad, and it's not like i wanna hate him. Would you mind sharing your thoughts on him? Maybe you can change my mind

Ah, Fergus. My son. My lamb. My sweet boy.

Let me lay down some lore for ya about good ol’ Fergus and maybe you can ignore Fate’s foul taste of Fergus and love him too: 

His Times with Cu Chulainn

Do you enjoy Cu Chulainn aka Setanta (aka my bread and butter)? 

Fergus is responsible for helping to care for him and his mother up to a point (thank you, Celtic God Lugh).

Later on, during the Cattle Raid of Cooley, Cu and him make an agreement that, should Fergus get challenged by him, Fergus would back down. Like “go enjoy some fighting, but like - I can’t stop a fight until the other is dead so back down if I charge at ya in battle” “Say no more, my son”. Bing badda boom, Cu finally bothers to join the raid and challenges Fergus and, despite Fergus’ fun with the raid, he bows out. 

What a gentleman.

Medb

Medb and him have a fling. Medb is married and so is Fergus, but Fergus really gets kinda hyped without his wife and his wife is chill about him being open to those intimate encounters (Takes seven women to do what his wife does for him and his wife knows she’s TOP tier. Medb takes thirty men to do what Fergus does for her so ya know… sorry my namesake. Fergie’s wife, Flaidis, is just *chef’s kiss*). Medb actually AVENGES FERGUS’ DEATH!!! She plans out this great revenge scene and it is AWESOME. Highly recommend. 

Conchobar

Did you know Fergus was king of Ulster for a time?

First of all- Yes. Second of all, Fergus falls for a woman and the lass goes “so… my son should try being king. I’d marry you if he could be king.” Yeah, hello Conchobar. Fergus, however, shrugs off HIS OWN DAMN USURPER AND BECOMES HIS LOYAL ATTENDANT… at least, until betrayal/exile.

That’s when you get Fergus peacing out and going to Connacht to see Medb like “oh hello.”

 In essence, Fergus is this rugged, brilliant warrior from Celtic myth. He lacks the whole “heroic themes” like that of Cu Chulainn that give you this long lecture about “ah THE BIRTH OF THIS MAN” or “AH! BUT AS A YOUTH!” 

I would recommend you enjoy Fergus because he’s a heroic spirit who should, in my opinion, be one of the absolute, most loyal servants that Gudako has. This man should take one look at how driven, single-mindedly focused, and unshaking in her belief Gudako is and go “well, I’m here to ride this freight train straight to the depths of hell and back. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, even if I don’t quite understand how it will help- I am your sword. I am your shield. I am your Fergus.”

I wish FGO had let his interlude be him and Medb kicking ass somewhere to like- steal cattle. Please! It would have been so funny. You could have Cu Chulainns popping up for like the last part to attack them (sans Cu Alter that wonders why he’s switched sides). 

#If you hate a character I always recommend looking at their actual myths #you'll find that fate lore just BUTCHERS characters at times #No offense #Also this is such a GROSS understatement of how cool Fergus is #I'm sorry the post would be kilometers long if I did him enough justice #I also watered things down here so forgive me if you are a huge celtic myth follower #I only have so much I can write in a post

[seigephoenix]

Alcohol is the Root of Bad Ideas

Featuring @crazy-bone-lady's Nevia and my Siobhan.  Always trouble when those two get together.

Alcohol was the root of all bad ideas.  Though, this hardly ranked in the top five for them in their short spans as Guardians.  They'd blown up buildings, taken on a Hive God, and one time got Zavala trapped under some mistletoe with Executor Hideo.  He had not been amused.  Commotion outside got Sio's attention as she propped herself up below the window.  Siobhan pulled herself up to look out the barred window. “Well shit.”  She wobbled and hugged the bars in a death grip.

“What is it?” Nevia tilted her face up as she leaned next to Siobhan's dangling legs.  Neither Hunter would classify as ‘tall’.

“That Captain?”  Siobhan was listening as the eliksni spoke outside in a group.  She didn't like what he was saying.

“The half naked one that smelled like piss and ether?”  They both wrinkled their noses at the memory.  They'd been minding their own business in that bar.  Simply drinking and catching up, they didn't exactly get to hang out much.  The eliksni came in and began making trouble for them.  It resulted in an ambush as the two Hunters had headed to their ships.  Which landed them both in a Fallen prison being angry about it.

“Yeah that one.”  Siobhan stuck out her tongue as the aforementioned Captain met her glare.

“What about him?”

“Pretty sure we shouldn't have insulted his manhood.  If I'm hearing this right, they want to turn us over to the Scorn.”  Nevia snorted in laughter as Sio dropped back down to the ground.  “Or they're wanting to sell us on the black market.  I could be wrong.  Their dialect isn't like the ones on Earth.”

“Well.  They took our weapons and I dunno about you, but Chia won't let me use my blades drunk.”  Chia popped out and floated around Nevia's head.  The little Ghost bounced in annoyance.

“You almost shot Drifter last time you tried it.”  Nevia threw back her head and laughed.  That had been funny, for her anyway.  She rarely used her Light around Drifter but he'd laid down a challenge.  She never backed down from a challenge.

“Did you send that message for me Arawn?”  Arawn appeared next to Siobhan and nodded.  There was only a few people Siobhan would trust to message to get them out.  Her Fireteam or Shaxx.

“He's not happy about it.”  Siobhan snorted.  She'd endure the lecture on the way back.

“Of course he's not happy about it.  I'm drunk and got captured by Fallen.”  She giggled and sat next to Nevia.  The Hunter nudged her and snarked about newlywed troubles.

“Shaxx says to tell you that he has a thing or two to say when he gets here.”  Nevia groaned and her head fell back against the prison walls.  She didn't want to listen to a lecture from Shaxx.

“Oh no.”  The two Hunters glanced up at Chia.  “I contacted Drifter too.  I didn't know you were calling Shaxx!”  Siobhan held her stomach as she pictured the scenario.  Laughter echoed off the prison walls as Nevia joined her.  They leaned against each other.  The two men weren't hostile with each other, but they'd no doubt butt heads.

“Oh, I think they're here.”  Siobhan jumped up to look out the window again.  “Yep.  Well piss.”  She glared in the general vicinity of Shaxx and Drifter.  It wasn't pretty.

“What?”  Nevia stood on tiptoe but couldn't see over the wall.  Stupid prison windows made for fucking tall ass Fallen.

“You'd better come up here and look.”  Siobhan held out a hand to her.  Nevia hefted herself up into the window with Sio's help and sighed at the sight.  Shaxx and Drifter were arguing in the middle of a ring of dead Fallen.  The ground was scorched and they were definitely arguing with each other.  The body language was hard to deny.

“Oi!  Quit your bitching and come get us out!”  Nevia yelled out between the bars.  They didn't hear her over the approaching ketch.  “Well fuck.”

“Uh oh.”  Siobhan noticed the very large Shank headed their way.  “Watch out!”  Her warning and Nevia's went unheeded as the two men continued their bickering.  “What the hell were they even arguing about?”  Siobhan asked as they saw the Fallen run the two off.  “This would be more entertaining if we weren't stuck in here.”

“Some heroes they turned out to be.”  Nevia scoffed as she and Siobhan watched the fighting.  It was almost as if the Fallen had forgotten about them.  The Fallen couldn't get a foothold on the two thanks to Shaxx's arc and Drifter's aim.  While it kept them safe, the same couldn't be said for Siobhan and Nevia.

“They're still arguing.  And I thought Shaxx and Saladin couldn't get along.”  Siobhan propped her cheek on her fist as they watched the fighting.  She sighed and wondered how long it would take them to get into the prison.

“We don't have all day.  I'm calling in the cavalry.”  Arawn told the two Hunters.  Siobhan grinned as she knew who that was.  Her Fireteam wasn't available so Arawn would only call one other person.  When she got there, the two rescuers would be in for one hell of a lecture.

“Oh.  Well, looks like they got Drifter.  And Shaxx too?  Didn't think he'd go down so quick.”  Nevia watched as they were led into the building.  Both Ghosts disappeared as the door opened.  Siobhan and Nevia jumped down from the window to face the newest additions.

“Stay in here filthy Lightbearers.”  Siobhan snorted and couldn't let that stand.  Not about her husband.

“Better than smelling of stolen ether.”  The Vandal roared in anger and raised his hand to strike her.  Shaxx sent him flying with a single punch.  The others slammed the door shut and locked it before the Guardians could react.

“Khalon!”  Siobhan grinned and opened her arms.  He placed his hand on her face as she went to give him a hug.

“You're drunk.”  His voice lacked any bite, but it was clear he was annoyed.

“Hmm.  I am!”  She simply wrapped her arms around his waist as he glared at her through his helmet.  “I can feel you glaring at me.  It's not going to work.”  He huffed and rolled his eyes heavenward.  She was way too cheery when she was drunk.  And grabby.  He took her hand and pulled it away from his rear end.

“You okay Quickfang?”  Drifter looked over Nevia but didn't see any wounds.

“Tch.  I'm fine.  We just got into a scuffle with some Fallen.”

“I'd say this isn't quite a scuffle.”  He stood next to her as the Fallen scurried around outside.

“What is going on out there?”  Shaxx looked towards the door as Drifter spoke.

“And take that you sonofabitch!”  The all too familiar voice of Yvette reached them.  A Dreg flew by the bars of their jail cell and Siobhan cheered.  Even as Shaxx tried to shush her.

“Yvette?”  Yvette poked her head across the doorframe.  Shaxx couldn't believe it.

“Well I'll be damned.  Arawn was telling the truth.  Hey, Aine!  You gotta come see this!”  Yvette called out to her partner in crime.

“Mom!”  Siobhan cheered as Yvette snorted.

“You are good and shitfaced aren't ya?”  Siobhan nodded with a grin.  “Well that explains how you got into this situation.  But what about the two of you?”  She pointed from Shaxx to Drifter.

“They were arguing!”  Siobhan and Nevia told her in unison.

“My my.  You two are certainly in a predicament aren't you?”  Aine chuckled as she joined Yvette's side.  “When Yvette asked me to come, I was expecting only two Guardians.”

“Aine!”  Siobhan opened her arms for a hug and buried her face in Aine's hair as the older Guardian gave her the hug.

“I see we've been drinking?”  Aine patted her head while Yvette made sure the hallway was clear.

“Just me and Nevia.”

“Well, that explains quite a bit.”  Aine smiled as Siobhan turned to speak to Shaxx.

“We were doin’ just fine.”  Drifter grumbled as he leaned against the wall.

“Eli Ming, you listen to me.”  Aine held up a disapproving finger towards him.

“Ooooohhh, she used the full name.  He's in trouble.”  Siobhan whispered to Nevia who had to cover her mouth to keep the laughter in.  Both did a piss poor job of being discreet.  

“Someone sober them up please?”  Yvette grinned and shook her head.  They were stuck with them.

“Nah.  They're fine.”  Drifter pinched the bridge of his nose.  They were not fine.  And if that was how much trouble they got into together it was a wonder the Tower still stood.

“We did manage to reacquire your weapons.”  Aine had Lugh transmat them back.

“Ah!  Nightmare!”  Siobhan hugged her blade as Arawn grumbled about keeping up with it.

“Quickfang!”  Nevia strapped it to her side where it belonged.  

“Now, shall we go about breaking out of this prison?”  Yvette told them as they finished gearing up.

“YEAH!”  They were a little too enthusiastic about that.

“I don't really think.”  Shaxx started but was ignored as Siobhan and Nevia went charging out the door.

“Let them have their fun.  Besides, it'll help sober them up and who knows?  Burn off that excess energy.”  Yvette patted his shoulder and followed the two girls out with Aine at her side.  

“Is this normal for them?”  Drifter waved his hand at the door.

“When they get together?  Yes.”  Shaxx sighed.

“How many times have you rescued them?”

“I usually don't.  Her Fireteam can't so I came instead.”  Drifter ran a hand over his face.  “There would be twice the explosions if they came.”

“I figured…”  He gave up and followed behind the group with Shaxx bringing up the rear.  They followed the mad laughter and explosions to find Siobhan and Nevia.

“Where did Yvette and Aine go?”

“They went home.  Said that since we’re out they aren't needed anymore.”

“They stuck us with babysitting duty.”  Drifter stuck his hands in his pockets.  Shaxx chuckled as the girls finished up the Fallen in the room.

“Time to head back!”  Siobhan yelped when an arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her off her feet.

“Yes.  Back to the Tower with you.  So you can sleep this off.”  She tilted her head to glare at him.  She wasn't going anywhere with his arm around her like an iron vise.

“Hmph.  Spoilsport.”  She grinned at him to ease the sting of her words.

Drifter slung his arm around Nevia's neck and tugged her close.  “I've got some bounties for ya to go over back on the Derelict.  I'll tell you all about ‘em on the way back.”  

“I can fly by myself you know.”  She elbowed him in the side but a smile tugged at her lips.

“Sure you can.  But then you'd miss hearing about the glimmer.”  She wrinkled her nose but gave in.  “Alright then.  Let's head out.”  They left first in a blue shimmer.

“Are we taking your ship?”  Siobhan asked as Arawn popped out.

“No.  I merely grabbed what was convenient.  The ship doesn't have room for two.”  Shaxx informed her.  Siobhan grinned.

“You're still not piloting it.”

“Awww.”  She sighed and they disappeared in a burst of purple.

#destiny #destiny 2 #hunter guardian #friend's oc #my oc #oc: siobhan #these two give Shaxx and Drifter a headache #long post

[oakandcirrus]

i need to move somewhere like ireland or norway to get the full wheel of the year experience. i need to be locked away all winter because the sun is dead and its fucking freezing. then, and only then, will i light a fire on the darkest day of the year and celebrate warmth and sunlight. then to celebrate the return of the sun on ostara, basking in the new warmth and the soft green grass, planting your garden and waiting to harvest. then to light a bonfire on midsummer to drink lemonade and make honey cakes and hang lavender around the house, all the windows wide open. to bake a loaf of bread on lugh and reap the harvest. making soup and preparing for the descent into winter, making the most of the remaining sunlight left. welcoming in the autumn on mabon with the leaves beginning to change and the first rain has come and the air is getting colder. the days can only get shorter and the light can only fade from this point forward. winter is on its way. samhain comes and i eat and remember people who have moved on, prepare for the dark winter and for new year. then its yule again and im hauling in a log to burn, lighting candles and freezing my ass off in the snowstorm.

but i live in california. where summer lasts half the year. where there are no smooth descents its just hot for may june july august september and one week in october then cold and getting colder till february and suddenly its 75 every day. then maybe it rains once or twice in march. and were back to 80-90 degree weather for six more months. also the colors here dont change in the fall. they change in december. real fall lasts a month. winter lasts two. spring lasts three. and summer lasts six. love it here.

#luke.txt

[margridarnauds]

Top five characters from literature (and why, if you're feeling chatty)

I tend to forget about literally everything I’ve ever read when I’m in a position to talk about it, so I’m going to do my best. 

(1) Bres mac Elatha - Cath Maige Tuired, Cath Maige Tuired Conga, and a load of other assorted medieval Irish myths. 

My boy. My son.

There’s a lot I could say about him, and a lot of it I wasn’t able to fit into my 45 page Capstone. Sometimes, in my (fairly short) life, I’ve been lucky enough to come across something that happened to be exactly what I needed at the time and, for my 14-15 year old self, that happened to be an obscure Irish deity who ends up choking on bog water. As you will. 

I didn’t start out liking him; it’s very, very easy to accept a simple version of the text where he’s just a moustache twirling tyrant, and even though it’s not an interpretation I AGREE with, seeing as it’s…boring, as a concept to me, it’s just as valid as anything, given these texts were meant to be interpreted and reinterpreted and transmitted and then rewritten from the ground up to suit the times. Cath Maige Tuired Bres is actually an anomaly; before that, he seems to have been an esteemed member of the Tuatha dé. 

Which, I suppose, is part of why I like him. There’s an ambiguity about him, a crossing of lines. Even in CMT where he’s at his most villainous, he’s fairly unique, having many of the traits of a hero and, I would argue, he is as much the protagonist of the text as Lugh is. He has the heroic birth with a missing father, the strange childhood, the trial by combat, etc. And yet, in the world of CMT, with the context of the Viking invasions, he just doesn’t have a chance. He’s a fundamentally doomed character from the beginning, with his own actions damning him in the end. 

His very existence in the tribe, the son born out of the most “proper” form of medieval Irish wedlock (seeing as there were nine, I hesitate to apply the term “bastard” to Bres, but the circumstances were NOT the ideal) to an unbetrothed noblewoman of the Tuatha (THE FUCKING SOVEREIGNTY OF IRELAND) and the king of a neighboring tribe, really warps the social structure, and it’s something he kind of carries throughout his life. He isn’t like Cú Chulainn, who is probably the one character who comes closest to him as far as his place in the tribe; he’s not content to serve the maternal side of his family as a champion, doing as he’s commanded. He wants power, and, when he’s removed from power, he takes desperate measures to take it back and, in the process, loses everything.

And, really, that essential liminality extends into his relationship with gender and power structures. While he’s supposed to represent order, as the king, he has no taste for the nobility; he makes them work (!!!!), he doesn’t give a bard due hospitality, he doesn’t give the warriors ale and meat. You get this image of him as this kind of distant, isolated figure in the tribe; not particularly JOYLESS, per se, at least in my interpretation of him (given we don’t see him happy all that often, the interpretation is open), but one who takes joy in things very, very different from the rest of the tribe, or at least from the men. Instead, his closest relationships in the tribe are to the women, who are the ones who elect him. His mother is his most constant ally, being willing to travel with him to see his father, even if it means leaving her own tribe to do it, and she’s the one he goes to IMMEDIATELY for help. And, when his mother addresses her father, it’s notable that SHE’S the one who takes control of the narrative, not Bres. Bres only confirms it when his father asks him. I wouldn’t say that he’s a feminine-coded character, specifically, though I think there are elements of that, but he definitely does not fit the expectations of how a medieval Irish nobleman is to behave with his own sex and with the opposite sex. At the risk of going full-on Pretentious Academic here, it reminds me of what Jeffrey Jerome Cohen wrote in his Seven Monster Theses, where he wrote, “By revealing that difference is arbitrary and potentially free-floating, mutable rather than essential, the monster threatens to destroy not just individual members of a society, but the very cultural apparatus through which individuality is constituted and allowed.” 

And, in other texts, I think there’s decent enough subtext to do a queer reading of Bres. Like, in Cath Maige Tuired Conga, which is a sort of prequel to CMT, Bres appears as the champion of the Tuatha dé, a completely normal part of the tribe, and he meets with Sreng mac Sengann, the Fir Bolg champion, and their meeting is…interesting to me, in how intimate it is, as far as two men from opposing sides sent to essentially size up the enemy. There’s a certain…familiarity with one another. They know that if their tribes go to battle, it’s going to be a bloodbath, and there’s really no personal dislike for one another. They even ask each other where they spent the night! (Which, it’s a common enough phrase that I’m not going to tie it to The Wooing of Emer, but…) And then, at the end of their meeting, they each give each other one of their sharp, pointy weapons to bring back to the tribe as a show of what the other tribe can do, and the text says, “They parted in peace after making a compact of friendship with each other.” It’s just…a very unusual scene, in terms of champions meeting up with one another, and it’s one that I think I could spend a lot more time with if I was given the opportunity. And curiously enough, they keep the vow of friendship! Throughout the rest of the fight, you see everyone being paired off against their equal, but Bres and Sreng never go head to head even when Sreng takes the arm off of Bres’ king. Instead, Bres goes for Sreng’s king. 

Personally, for me, he only really clicked when I was going over CMT again and I was looking over the scene where Bres meets his father for the first time and he says, “Do you have any advice for me?” and I was like…fuck. This is the first time he’s ever met his father, and the first words that his father’s ever said to him are essentially, “Why aren’t you leading your own people? What have you done wrong?” which is doubly painful when you realize that his father was one of the Fomorian lords who were raiding Ireland earlier. At the risk of going personal here, at the time when I read those lines and had them hit me, I was in the process of divorcing myself from my own father, who, like Bres, I had had a distant relationship with, as he lived across the country and was happier with the idea of having a picture on a mantelplace than a daughter who wanted something as inconvenient as his attention. Reading that, and thinking about my own situation, I was like, “Yeah, I get you” and, from then on, I really read him and the text in a wildly different light, especially when I started to think about the repercussions of, say, Bres having the growth of a 14 year old at the age of 7. Like, if you take this text realistically (which…you can or you can’t, because these texts are over the top by their nature), he never had a childhood. He was just moving from one stage of growth to another, with the tribe probably being all too eager to put a spear in his hand because Well, he has the growth for it now and That’s Just What a Man Does. Which is something that I ALSO understood, deeply, and is something that I wish more adaptations of CMT would take into account besides just forcing Bres into the role of “Entitled Brat.” 

Also, if my dissertation up there wasn’t enough: According to some genealogies, he’s The Morrigan’s nephew, given that both Eriu, Bres’ mother, and she are both listed as daughters of Ernmas. Like, if you don’t love him for the batshit insane, Extra antics he finds himself in (like the time the Dagda, his half-brother/father-in-law decides to distract the husband of the woman he’s banging by sending him on a mission to Bres), you’ve got to love him for his batshit insane, extra, goth family. 

(2) The Countess - Makt Myrkanna (AKA Weird Ass Swedish Dracula.)

This will hopefully be briefer than my little essay up there, mainly because there’s really not all that much information on her in text and it’s been awhile since I read her scenes (and even then, a lot of that was me rereading it so that I could write the Countess/Lucy smutfic that I am probably never, ever going to let see the light of day. Which. Vampire smutfic. Light of day.) 

BUT…why I like her. Makt Myrkanna is a very, very different work than the original Dracula, extending the scenes in the castle while condensing the rest of the novel to a truly dizzying extent, to the point where we have no idea whether Arthur Holmwood’s actually…alive by the end of the book given that the last time he was mentioned, he was stalking Lucy’s grave given that he thought she’d been buried alive. RIP Artie. To me, though, it really, really shows in the figure of the Countess, who is very different from the three women Jonathan meets in the original novel. There, even though there is a lot of subtext about what their relationship to the Count is, some of which might not have been printable in a Victorian novel (at least not one to be sold to the public), the brides really only have the two key scenes: Once when they tempt Jonathan and Dracula intervenes, and then again when they try to get Mina to join them and then Van Helsing goes down and stakes them. They’re probably one of the most memorable parts of the novel and certainly a BIG influence on the portrayal of vampire women in fiction, but they’re not…there all that often. 

The Countess, however, is a far more formidable figure. She does not seem nearly as pleased in her current position, seeming to be held in place by Dracula, who it’s heavily, heavily implied might have been her husband (?), though he also shows just as much disdain for the man’s actions towards her in life that it’s kind of hard to tell one way or another. (Like a lot of things in Makt Myrkanna, it’s toyed with and then never picked up again.) No matter what, he definitely wants to bang her and probably has on multiple occasions, given that he describes her, uh, attributes to Thomas while showing him his collection of dirty paintings. (Yes, Dracula has a porn collection in this one.) For the Countess’ part, there seems to be a certain…fear that the Count inspires in her, or at least a sense of caution with her quickly ushering Thomas Harker (inexplicably, Jonathan becomes Thomas in this translation) away. Obviously, she’s on Team Dracula in the end, she very much wants to eat humans, and she’s not a Broken Bird, but you do get the sense that she has some sort of agenda of her own and that, perhaps, there’s a sort of power struggle being waged in Castle Dracula that Thomas is more or less oblivious to (he’s a bit busy dodging human sacrifices). 

She also represents far more of a temptation than the original brides, who Jonathan…is interested in, with the reference to “almost wanting them to kiss me” (or something; I don’t have Dracula on hand and, if I spend too long searching, I know I’ll never get this done), but it’s still not…..in depth. Like, Jonathan loves and is faithful to Mina, even though he’s ashamed when he shows her his diaries because of that line. Thomas Harker, his counterpart here, though, reacts…very differently, trying to keep his calm but, “The moment she turned towards me and locked her incomparable eyes with mine, it felt as though an electric current surged throughout my body. I grabbed a nearby chair and held onto its backrest. She looked steadily into my eyes, and it didn’t even occur to me that I should have greeted her, or that my behavior was doltish. But evidently neither did she see a need for salutations. It felt as though we had already known each other for a long time and therefore didn’t need to explain ourselves.” There’s this hypnotic effect that she has on him, and unlike her three counterparts, she is perfectly willing to wait and talk with him for long periods of time.             

Also, unlike her other counterparts, we get her backstory detailed to us, with her being described as being just as ruthless and cunning as the Count even as a child, with her being described as, holding, “the hearts of men at [her] fingertips, playing with them as a child plays with grapes before sucking out the liquid.” And in her lifetime, she was powerful, with Dracula saying she, “Held the destinies of whole nations in her hands, though few suspected it. Heads of state, kings, and emperors, lay at her feet–or in her arms.” Ultimately, her only downfall was when her husband ended up locking her and her lover in the bedroom together so she could sex him to death. Literally. He jumps out a window. And then her husband had a funeral service performed but, given she’s walking around the castle, we can presume it didn’t stick.                                                                                                                                

(3) Asriel/Mrs. Coulter - His Dark Materials

I’m including both of them because it’s not necessarily the two of them I like as individuals; it’s their dynamic. I mean, I do very much like them as individuals, they are each favs in their own right, but their dynamic is essential to that as well. They both complement and bounce off of each other very well, having this kind of spark where, even though they absolutely despise each other for most of the trilogy, they are really the only two who match each other. They’re both incredibly magnetic; like, in his first scene at Jordan College, I was pretty blown away by Asriel’s presentation, in his confidence, his ruthlessness, his intelligence, his pride and his ambition, all of which are also mirrored in Mrs Coulter. They simply happen to have landed on separate sides, with Asriel trying to essentially tear down everything that Coulter stands for and Coulter seizing control in the Church because it’s the only thing she really has as far as options, since she lacks the privileges Asriel has as a man. 

They both do horrible things in the pursuit of their goals, including killing children, with Coulter being essentially the embodiment of Stranger Danger, and they both harm Lyra both physically and mentally. Still, when they let their guard down, on the FEW occasions they let their guard down, it is shown that they have some amount of love for Lyra, but they fundamentally don’t know how to be parents when all their lives have been spent in the pursuit of power and knowledge and all the ways those two intertwine. 

I’m not sure how much I fully believe in Mrs Coulter’s swerve to motherhood, whether it was the best writing decision, whether it leans into the overall weakening of female characters in the last book or so, with Lyra being another notable victim, but I do think there’s a tragedy in there, as far as her trying but failing. And there is something in the classic femme fatale, generally seen as sexual but cold and unmaternal, dangerous in her embracing of sexuality sans procreation and motherhood (and monogamy!) being allowed to HAVE those kind of feelings and to have a complicated dynamic with the father of her child who she still has obviously holds some feelings for. And for Asriel’s part, he WAS ready to sacrifice Lyra, but he was also HORRIFIED by it, and in the end, he does repeatedly show that he cares, I just think that ultimately he let his own lofty goals get in the way of that until it was almost too late. 

I really think that the best showcasing of them as characters tends to be with them together, such as in the third book when she steals the Intention Craft. She comes in there a prisoner, Asriel doesn’t WANT her there because he knows she’ll pull something, but she’s able to trap him in his own words by playing his commanders like a fiddle, and then she takes advantage over his desire to show off his new toy to get her an in, with Asriel then letting her go with one of his spies in the craft with her, knowing fully well what she’s going to do next and then going back to his improved prototype for more scheming. Like, they’re always trying to one up the other; it’s essentially a form of foreplay for them (as much so as you can get in a kid’s series about killing God), and I can only imagine what they were like when they were actually in a relationship, because they must have been terrifying and yet, for whatever reason, they both fell in love with each other to embark on a forbidden affair with each other, when she was married to a highly powerful man, risking everything. 

So, I’m going to be curious to see what the new BBC series ends up doing with them, both as individuals and as a pair. 

(4) Morgan le Fay - Like, a hundred different Arthurian adaptations 

I’ll be honest: Morgan le Fay in The Magic Treehouse was one of my first crushes. I was always strangely drawn to books with her in them, looking at the pictures for a while. 

These days, I have broadened my Arthurian knowledge significantly, though not nearly as much as I’d like to, but she’s still my eternal favorite. (Literally any book or film that tries me to root for Arthur over Morgan is going to fail miserably.) She is the embodiment of the Other in a woman, being otherwordly in her name and in her powers, but, like Bres and any other character from a long tradition, she is ambiguous in her presentation. Sometimes, she loves her brother and truly wants to expose the love affair between Lancelot and Guinevere to save his honor. Sometimes, she wants to create destruction for destruction’s sake. Sometimes, she reconciles with her brother and gives up the fight, sometimes she only relents when she sees his dead body there. She is always powerful, but the way that power is applied and, at times, not applied is part of what makes her fascinating and why, I believe, she is still subject to so much study after all these years. 

 The backstory as far as her mother and Uther gives her VERY strong motivation for why she would be less than pleased with Arthur, though I tend to favor the story of her expulsion from Camelot for having an affair with a kinsman of Guinevere’s for the delicious, delicious irony involved. 

 She is more of a schemer than her sister Morgause who, despite the oddness of her family, tends to be a loving mother (who just…happens to take a lover many, many years her junior and pays the consequences) in works that don’t take off from sexist Victorian bullshit. (I have many, many feelings over the portrayal of Morgause, and they’re very complicated so I won’t vomit them out.) Like, she successfully steals the sheath of Excalibur, and came very, very close to killing both Arthur AND her husband with the whole Accolon thing. 

Also, she literally has a dude come into Camelot dressed in green so she could terrify Guinevere AT CHRISTMAS and then continues to troll her nephew for a year (and a day!) Like, name a greater icon. 

(5) Shiloh - Saving Shiloh

 A Very Good Boi. Doesn’t die at the end, unlike SOME literary dogs that I could mention whose authors thought that kids needed the slow, creeping inevitability of death forced into them. A+ pupper. 

#fey-and-sudden-and-unholy #about me