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#i wanted to make a web weave full of love to get rid of this wretched feeling within me but ended up making another one on loneliness
raeiyyn · 2 years
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on loneliness
Amy Dunne // Nickie Zimov // Carol Lee, To Die For // Marie Alsing // Anne Sexton, A Self Portrait in Letters // As Tears Go By (1988) dir. Wong Kar Wai // Fyodor Dostoevsky in a letter to his wife Anna Dostoevsky, 28 August 1879 // Aron Wiesenfeld // Margaret Atwood, from "Thoughts From Underground"
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earthfluuke · 4 years
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summary: they’re the protectors of the trees, have been since they sprouted. after so much time, he’s become comfortable; too comfortable to notice when things change.
did you think i could continue the nymph!tine universe without adding ohmfong into it? impossible! the two of them (along with phuak) are based on alseids (grove nymphs) from greek mythology, but as a reminder, they are anything i imagined them to be.
this also became far longer than i intended it to be. so...oops? regardless, i hope you enjoy!
(side note: margosa trees - also called neem trees - grow in thailand.)
parts: 1 / 2 / 2.5 / 3 / 3.5 / 3.5i
From the high branches of the apple tree, lone and unique amongst the grove of margosa not far away, Fong keeps a watchful eye on the ground below. Specifically, the human boy who dares to take a step closer to Tine. One wrong move, and he will be sliding down the trunk, bark scratches and splinters be damned, to his aid. Such is the life of himself, Ohm, and Phuak, the protectors of the trees, the field, and the creatures that dwell there.
The human boy tosses a blade to the ground behind him and raises his hands to his chest, fingers spread wide in surrender. Tine braves towards him, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. While he relaxes, Fong only further tenses, fingers gripping the branch tighter, swirling patterns indenting into his palms. Tine is too quick to trust, leaving Fong to be the one to worry.
When he turns to the two nymphs above him, they seem to share his sentiment, if the creases to their brows and downturn of their lips are any indication. If there must be a soft spot for those they protect, they at the very least all agree to have the same one. To the three of them, that is Tine. And for him, they are attentive, subjecting themselves to a day of observation and scrutiny. But what else does one do for those that they love?
Humans are not so foreign to them. There are the occasional wanderers, free spirited couples who want to escape for a bit of privacy, curious explorers who collect leaves and twigs from the ground to shove into the satchels at their hips. But they are few and far between, never venturing in more than once.
Tine’s human boy, however, is an oddity. Every day without fail, he returns to the forest, walks through the trees until they part into an open meadow, and trails up the hill to the sole apple tree. Sunrise to sunset he stays, leaving with promises of a happy tomorrow.
It isn’t so much the human boy’s presence that concerns him. It instead is the light that reaches too high in Tine’s eyes. They all but glow, seeping a brightness across the fields when the sun sinks away. His cheeks push up too high, smile grows too wide, sighs become too dreamy. They are all warning signs that Fong knows better than to ignore.
Weaving between tree trunks, he follows the human boy through the grove. On the ground, he can see him closer, see a bit of what Tine must see in him. He has a handsome, angled face, sharp features that don’t quite match the softness in his eyes. Even from the tops of the trees, he can see the way they melt to enraptured fondness with merely a glance to Tine. There again comes his worry; the two of them make something so complicated so seemingly easy.
Fong is light on his feet, toes barely touching the dirt before he takes another step to keep up with the human boy’s longer legs. One with the wind, he resembles it whipping through the leaves, tearing those less fortunate from their stems, floating to the ground in a graceful dance. He is careful and calculated; a single step out of place puts him at risk.
It is a single step he takes. Misjudging the length he needs to take over a tree root, his foot catches. A pained hiss goes through his teeth, and he tumbles in perfect line with the human boy.
The first thing he notices when he regains his balance is the glint of a blade secured tightly at his waist. The second is the large, tan hand that covers it, ready to free it from its leather confines.
Fong is frozen still, eyes wide and unwavering from the gaze he has locked on the human boy. He stares back, still gripping the handle of his blade but making no move to draw it. It is as though each are waiting for the other to make a move, not daring to do so themselves. There is the perfect chance to dart away into the confines of the trees, and yet, he cannot bring himself to move nary a step.
Just as the human boy appears to want to move in closer and offer him his words, a cloud of dust huffs up between them. Feet hit the ground hard, the fall from the tree branches above kicking up twigs and rocks. Fong cannot see Ohm’s face, but it is all too obvious that he is angry. Squared back shoulders arch into long arms extended towards the ground, prepared to pull up the roots from the earth and trap the human boy within them.
He is on him before he can. It takes a series of progressively harder tugs on his hand to get Ohm to whip around and face him. Fire burns in his eyes, but it extinguishes when they meet Fong. Fear flashes through them, then grief, and then anger once more. But it is different than the first kind, more guilty than aggressive.
Before Fong can study him further, Ohm dashes through the trees, disappearing beyond the hills. The human boy is still looking at him, clearly perplexed from their exchange, but it is he who supplies an explanation with the single whisper of, “blood.”
Fingers rise to his cheek, find a wet pool that stings when touched, and when he pulls them back, they are tinted red. Somewhere between the dust and the fury, some of the kick up must have struck him.
He acknowledges the human boy with a nod before taking after his fellow nymph. From what he has seen, Tine’s human boy has far from bad intentions, considering how many chances he had to harm him, all of which he did not take. And regardless, there is something much more pressing he needs to see to.
It is not difficult to find where Ohm has escaped to. Just beyond Tine’s apple tree, down the far side of the hill, there sits a river. And on the banks, nestled between the cattails, he is crouched, head down, spine curved. A step closer, and Fong can see a scaled hand resting upon his cheek in comfort, webbed fingers spreading over his ashen skin.
Pear notices him almost instantaneously. She turns to look at him; the pink scales curving up towards her temples flicker gold beneath the sun, and her eyes grow soft with sympathy. He cannot make out the words she hushes to Ohm, but as she dives beneath the water, he glances over his shoulder. The flinch he gives matches the sharp pang Fong feels deep in his chest, just beyond his ribs, when he sees the remorse growing in his eyes, grief fading in just behind.
Two long glides, and Fong is on him, warming the cheek that Pear had left to grow cold. Thumb grazing over the indents of the vine that outlines his cheekbone, he forces a smile, hoping to rid the sorrow from his eyes; it hurts more than any cut ever could.
Those eyes – usually so big, so bright, full of mischief and unspoken plans between himself and Phuak – fixate on where the tree branch struck. Trembling fingers brave a graze so light he could have imagined it, and then his hand rests just beneath it, a hold mirroring the very one Fong has on him. More pain grows in from his pupils, spreading towards the edges of his dark brown irises until they are encompassed in a sadness too deep for Fong to bear.
He leans forward until their foreheads touch and their noses ever so carefully tuck into each other. He can feel Ohm’s breath feather onto his skin, rapid and staggered. Fingers stroke out towards his ear to say I’m okay while his thumb brushes just under his lashes to plead please don’t be so angry with yourself.
Ohm turns, forehead bumping his temple and rubbing against it. Each nuzzle presses an apology into his skin, gentle but not enough to go unnoticed. Fong feels it clearly, how much he means it, how badly he needs Fong to know it. And though he knew from the moment he saw the heaviness in his eyes, he stays still, not daring a move until Ohm feels he’s done enough.
It isn’t much, not for Ohm. For him, it’s always been different. Phuak has always been as close as a friend can be, a better one than Fong ever believed he deserved. Tine is the one he protects with a fierceness strong enough to topple trees and flood oceans. But Ohm…he doesn’t believe there’s a word to describe just what he is.
He is beside him before Fong knows he needs him. He follows in his steps or creates a path for Fong to follow. There is more said between them in single glances and lingering smiles than could ever be expressed through words. Where Ohm is, there is understanding, endless joy, a comfort that emerged one day and never left.
What one titles that, Fong hasn’t a clue. All he knows is that Ohm is forever, and staying like this, for as long as he needs, is nothing (and everything) in the grand scheme of things.
The next time the human boy visits, it’s with a string instrument in hand and a few more hearts to his eyes. Each moment passes by with his skilled strums, the birds drawn to the sound tuning their songs to match his melody. Tine’s attempts follow, unexperienced and clumsy and yet still met with soft praise. The back and forth floats to the treetops, to where Fong is perched with a hand pressed firmly into his lower back.
No longer red and stark, the scratch on his cheek should not be as offensive to Ohm as it once was. There is nothing to scream blame at him, no physical remnant of what he so wholeheartedly believes is his personal act of sin. And still, everywhere Fong goes, each turn he takes, a hand follows. Sometimes it hovers, a quiet whisper of protection. And other times, such as this, it is obvious, noticeable to an almost absurd degree.
He is not glass, has never been treated as such. He is resourceful, wise beyond his years, quick to a plan before others can so much as ponder the situation at hand. Proven himself for as long as the margosa grove has stood, he refuses to play weak for anyone.
But Ohm is not anyone, and anyone is not Ohm. And furthermore, does it make one weak to do what is right for your one’s – your only’s – peace of mind? Because regardless of his actions, Ohm’s trust in Fong’s strength has not wavered. It has instead pushed itself to the back of his mind in favor of guilt taking over the forefront, hazing his judgement with a desperate need for remedy. Perhaps it is not Fong at all, but Ohm feeling burdened by the wrong he believes he has done and this – the hovering, the following, the hands – is his way of making things right.
Regardless of reason, Fong has made his choice. If the price to pay for Ohm trusting himself again is a constant weight on his back and eyes on his cheek, then he will pay it proudly. There is strength in helping the ones you love. And as the human boy’s song plays on and Fong looks to Ohm – and Ohm looks to him, as he has been doing without fail – he cannot help but think of what little there is that he will not do if it is for him. It is as simple as breathing.
They came into this world on a sprout, grew along with it until it breached the skyline and was no longer lonely, surrounded by a collection of other trees that would become their home. The roots grew through their bodies, wound up around their arms and rose to their cheeks, tinting them the green of the margosa leaves. And from that very beginning, Ohm had been a beacon of light.
Brighter than the sun, the stars, and the moon combined, he brings warmth to every creature he meets. It bleeds out from his smile and into their chests, engulfing their hearts and melting it deeper into them until they ache with swelled emotion. Fong finds it so fitting that when the day breaks and the sun hits his skin, he shines a golden yellow as a symbol of all that is right and good in the small world they’ve created around them.
So when Tine shows off the flower crown he has woven for his human boy and that light within Ohm dims, Fong cannot help but recognize how wrong it feels. There is a hollowness to his eyes, empty and cold enough to send a shiver through Fong’s spine.
For a meadow nymph like Tine, this crown is special; to gift someone an object of his own creation, made from the flowers he bloomed from the very tips of his fingers, is no small feat. There is an unmeasurable amount of trust in a gesture that big, and for a moment, Fong believes that to be why Ohm has extinguished. They are protectors, and to him, Tine’s human boy must still be a threat. He is worried, Fong thinks as the skin around Ohm’s jaw tightens. He does not want to see him get hurt.
But no matter the worry or fear they may have over his decisions, Tine’s happiness is what holds most importance to them. However, when Tine lifts his creation, proud smile on his lips and hope squeezing his eyes to crescents, Ohm turns on his heel, showing his back to them before stalking out of the meadow and back towards the grove.
It is then that Fong realizes that none of this has to do with the human boy. Even more troubling is that he hasn’t a clue of what it does. He and Phuak are quick to reassure Tine with returned smiles and pats to his head. In between it all, they manage shared glances, each holding the same sentiment. Pray tell this is just a flicker, and he has not burned out entirely.
Starlight kisses his skin, patterns of the spaces between the leaves dancing across his cheeks and reflecting up into his eyes. There are just some moments in life that do not feel real, even when they are seen in person, and Fong believes this to be one of those.
Ohm has always been a familiar kind of beautiful, one that makes him feel safe. Crouched upon a branch of one of the margosa trees, the soft curve of his jaw stretches to get a better look at the sky, lips spreading slowly into a content smile. Under the light, he is still golden, but this kind is fainter, brighter, more ethereal. While he is entranced by the stars, Fong is entranced by him, because what could they possibly hold to this picture he wishes to etch into his memory for however long he has?
When he does take notice of him – because he always does, as if there is a sixth sense that only registers as Fong within him – his lips stretch further as he reaches his hand out to him. It is familiar, too familiar, and only when Fong takes hold does realization catch up to him, a swarm of memories flooding back to his mind.
The hands that he’d believed to be a phase of heightened worry that would slowly fade as his cut did are here; his cut is not. And his eyes dazzle into him, unwavering from the gaze he before had on his cheek and now has through his eyes and into his soul. That too should have gone when he healed, and yet, they both stay. Or is it that they never left in the first place?
Or could it be they had been there the entire time?
Pasts of fingers circling his wrist as he crossed the river on unsteady stones and palms brushing tears from his cheeks when Phuak removed a splinter from his foot. Histories of pinpricked pupils narrowing in on him when the first human to explore their grove came and crinkled eye-smiles first thing in the morning, saved only for him. Memory after memory, too many to count, so many he has overlooked. Always, Ohm has been there, looking at him the same, holding him the same, and he has never noticed. Because that is Ohm; it has always been Ohm. Fong has just gotten too comfortable with what they are – what they always have been – that he has been blind to things becoming so much more.
And now, he cannot focus on anything but. Every touch, every look, it is, it has, it will always be, their normal. What does it mean? What has it meant? Must it mean anything at all? It must, with the rate his heart quickens and the slight shake to his knees.
Thoughts consume him, and it’s all too much. It’s dizzying, how fast one’s mind can work. He clutches to Ohm’s bicep, hugs it close to keep his balance on the branch. Surely, he has done so before, subconsciously with far less concern. It is all he can do. That, and look at the stars; all he can see in them is Ohm.
After that night beneath the stars, Fong needs time to think. Realization hit him square in the chest and knocked all of the wind out of him. His nights are filled with those hands, those eyes, and something more. Breath on his neck, lips fitting against his own, arms catch around his lower back as he spins and spins and spins until he wakes to the only nymph to blame for this mess.
It is the day he uses as an escape, a time to distract himself in hopes of it bringing clarity. And the universe has blessed him with the perfect opportunity.
He was created to protect his tree grove and the creatures around it, and the stream just beyond Tine’s apple tree is no exception. Another human appears one day, a girl this time, and she does not stray from the place she’s made for herself on the water’s banks. She creates colors with her hands, a magic Fong was unaware humans possessed, and every so often, she looks up as though she’s expecting something. Every time she looks down, the hope in her eyes fades just a bit more.
It is not so difficult to decipher just what (who) she’s looking for, but it becomes even easier when he finds Pear at the mouth of her river – farther up on a shallow overhang of cliffs – staring down at the human girl with interest and hesitation. It is as though her body wants to go to her, but her mind shouts wait.
And she does, in a way. Each day the human girl comes, Pear inches that littlest bit closer, just to watch her, as though she’s trying to figure out everything there could be to know about her. Where she goes, Fong follows. She provides the sort of silence he needs when his mind is too loud.
On the third day, they’ve traveled far enough down the river to where he can see Tine’s apple tree as well as the two figures situated in the branches. While he’s gone off with Pear, someone has to look after Tine. Or in this case, someones. Ohm could have followed him, and if this were any other time, he would have. But he knows this is something Fong needs to do on his own, because he always knows. And that’s what makes this ever so hard.
It is odd to be apart. He discovers so on the fifth day when he sees Ohm’s shoulders bounce in what he can only assume to be laughter. An emptiness grows in the center of his chest, sinking his heart to the very pits of his stomach. They’ve never strayed far from each other, and this. This must be why. Has he felt a pain like this before? Has anything hurt him so terribly that he could feel it course through his roots and squeeze him tight?
Only one thing has. Seven days gone, and Pear has taken her leap. It is more of a tip toe to the human girl’s side, one that startles her when Pear reaches for her magic colors. But it is not long before they fall into one another. Shoulders brush, wrists cross. Pear smiles, and the human girl’s cheeks flush the same shade of pink as the magic color on the tips of Pear’s fingers.
The closeness they share is the same kind that Tine and his human boy have. It is something that Fong should envy but never has. The question of why is followed quickly by you know.
A glance to the tree tops is all he needs. He need not be jealous for he has a closeness of his own, has for far more than his mind has ever let him remember. Long before human boys and human girls, there were nymphs. Some with shimmering scales, others with blossoms at their fingertips. But there has only ever been one for Fong, something he had not understood until his cheek was gashed and he felt an ice-cold ache, more painful than any other he’d felt before, from eyes filled with irrefutable guilt.
Pear’s human girl presents her with a water lily. Fingers part back her hair to tuck it behind her ear where it sits proudly against her temple. Its soft gradient from white to purple radiates Pear perfectly, dainty with a striking, breathless kind of beauty that cannot be ignored. It is an altogether excellent choice, if the kiss the human girl receives is any indication.
Feeling as though he is intruding on a far too intimate moment, he turns and finds himself upon Ohm. His eyes dart away as well, but rather than out of respect, it appears he does so out of disdain. His expression carries the same anger it did when Tine showed off the flower crown he’d crafted for his human boy, the one he and Phuak could not comprehend.
A blink for clarity, he looks closer, really looks, and sees the sadness in the creases between his brows and the sharp bite he has on his lower lip. He’ll draw blood, Fong is sure, but he pulls back before he can surge forward. Just as he cannot break into Pear and her human girl’s private moments, he cannot do so to Ohm’s either; he is not entitled to that, regardless of the personal revelations he’s had within these last few days.
All he can do is shift back onto his hands and stare up to the sky, wondering what it is about humans and flowers that makes Ohm so heartbroken.
Fong is greeted back to the meadow with music and laughter. Tine is on his feet, each step leaving clusters of pink peonies; he dances around his human boy as he strums his strings and tries to catch him into a kiss. Pear and her human girl have joined them, spinning each other around and dissolving into fits of giggles when they are right way around again. There is not necessarily a reason for such festivities other than the thrill of being alive, but he supposes that is good enough reason as any.
Celebration circles through the air so thick that Fong can feel it. It warms his toes and melts his lips to a smile, but a chill passes over his shoulders from farther away. At the outskirts of the margosa grove, Ohm stands, leant against a tree trunk. His eyes, as they always seem to be, are locked onto him.
They are sad, though not in the same way as they were the day Pear’s human girl gifted her the water lily. This kind is a lonely kind of sadness, the kind that whispers I’ve missed you only loud enough for Fong, and Fong alone, to hear.
It drives him forward. That, and the notion that so many days have passed since they’ve been in each other’s presence. He hates it. He had to sort himself out, but he detests that it has caused this. His sunshine should always be bright, not this cloudy overcast with the chance of tears.
Standing in front of him, the closest he’s come to him in what feels like a millennium, he near breaks. But for Ohm, on the brink of shattering himself, he holds himself together and does for him what he’s done so many times for Fong; he reaches forward, palm up and ready to be taken. Every memory he’s recollected has Ohm taking hold of him and not letting go. This time, the first he plans of so many, he’ll hold him.
Fingers grip between his, squeezing tight enough to bruise. For all of the confusion Fong has had, Ohm has only experienced fear. That he would not return, that he was gone without a goodbye. And that, he has to rectify.
Pulling him forward, Fong manages to take back his hand and slip it around Ohm’s shoulders. The other finds the back of his head and presses his face to the bend of his collarbone. With strokes over his hair, nails catching over tangles and smoothing them out, he buries his nose into curve of his ear and inhales deep.
Grass, tree bark, apples, and something warm. It’s Ohm, it’s home, and Fong promises himself that never again can he stray for as long as he has. Here, cradling sunshine in his arms, is the only place he belongs, the only place he wants to be. It is an honor to hold up the sun, keep the light alive and burning, and it is not a privilege he plans to forget.
Ohm grasps at the back of his tunic, bunching the fabric up in his hands as though it will disappear if he is not strong enough. His breath is staggered, finally exhaling after days of not allowing himself to. And that’s a thought, isn’t it? By taking himself away, he’s taken away the very thing that allows Ohm to live. A day longer, and Fong would have found him beneath the tree he grew from, the two of them withered and alone.
Lips brush over the shell of his ear, gentle kisses unspoken promises of the forever Fong has always thought him to be. He’s never imagined a future where Ohm is not beside him, but it is more than that; he sees that now. Without Ohm, there simply is no future for him. When Ohm goes, so will he, their lives intertwined from beginning to end.
The music continues to play, but their own celebration continues in the privacy of the trees. Here, with Ohm in his arms, is not where their forever starts. No, that begun long ago. It is where it continues, with the promise that it will be as near to perfect as the universe allows.
Soft weight falls upon his head. His eyes roll up, hoping for a glimpse. Met with only rounded shadows, he reaches up, and his fingers find velvet, delicate to the touch. Taking it in both hands, he lowers it carefully to find a wreath of sunflowers, adorned with margosa leaves.
Unwavering, unconditional love with personal touches of the past woven in between. It’s so light, but it’s meaning is heavy, keeps him holding on tighter lest something tragic happen to it.
Just past where it rests in his hands, shifting from foot to foot, is Ohm. Not meeting his eyes, he waits for what Fong is unsure of. Perhaps for him to shove it back at him in rejection or stomp it into the dirt in disgust. It is within these nerves that Fong finds familiarity: a tight jaw and sad eyes.
He’s seen it before, with Tine’s flower crown and Pear’s water lily. It is not quite jealousy, nor is it resentment. It is instead a crushed desire, a hope he does not allow himself to have. It is the unexplainable want to be those humans. To have and to hold some part of the one they love; to give part of themselves to the one they trust most to take care of it.
That’s what this is. It’s unmistakable. Golden petals match the reflect across Ohm’s cheeks, in his smile, through the brown of his irises that shine just that slightest bit warmer. For so long, Ohm has yearned to give himself to him. And finally, he feels as though he can.
Situating it back onto his head, he takes Ohm’s hands into his. They are as warm as they should be. Ohm dares a glimpse, and the joy that bursts through him makes Fong smile. It’s a bit of a dance, the way Ohm pulls on his arms and catches him around the waist when he falls against his chest, but it is one he’d do a thousand times over if it keeps his sunshine hanging high in the sky, bright and brilliant, as he should be.
An honor, he thinks as Ohm leans down, captures his lips with his own. It is an honor to hold a piece of him, to be trusted this much. He is meant to care for every creature in the grove, in the meadow, in the river and forest beyond. Ohm has always been included in that; he was the very first after all.
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Mudad Adventures: Spider-fest
summary: Giorno is terrified of spiders, Hol Horse is less than sympathetic
Giorno was not afraid of many things. How could he be, he lived in a mansion full of monsters (his father), freaks (Vanilla Ice), and idiots (Hol Horse). But all of them combined could not compare to the intense fear that struck him when he saw a spider. Being a nature boy at heart he knew that there were only a few spiders that could kill him, and that it was totally irrational for him to be frozen in fear whenever he saw so much as a brown house spider. 
He just couldn't help but envision them climbing into his neat little buns, or burrowing into his braid and building a nest there. The thought sent shivers down his spine, that wasn't even the worst part, once they nested in his curls they would surely launch a campaign into his ears. 
Giorno covered his ears instinctively, even though the spider in question was on the wall a good seven feet away. Once the spiders are in your ears it's all over. A few months ago he’d read an article in the newspaper about a woman who was killed by a scorpion in her ear and that was not a way he wanted to go. 
Giorno took a deep breath. He was a big five year old, and he lived in a mansion with a vampire. There was not much a spider could do to him that he hadn't already seen (other than make a nest in is hair and burrow into his-) 
He shook his head, no more time for those silly thoughts. He clenched his fists and steeled himself for an attack. Dio had always taught him that the best way to get rid of something you don't like is to kill it immediately and without mercy.
Giorno took a deep breath and slowly made his way to his bed, where he kept one of DIO’s shoes for emergencies like this. They were large and pointy enough to squish almost any bug, and he could throw them with more precision than a fly swatter. 
Giorno reared back and took aim at the brown spider on the wall, he flinched one last time and closed his eyes before he hurled the shoe at it! He carefully opened one eye at a time, but was shocked to see no spider splat mark on the wall… 
He carefully approached it, looking around for the wiley little beast, before he saw it. It was a few feet away from the bookshelf leaning against the wall. It was almost like it waited for Giorno to see it, before it ran behind the shelf. Surely to go tell its friends of the small pretty boy whose head would make a lovely nest. 
This was fine, Giorno told himself. There was only one spider and he knew exactly where it was. He took a deep breath in and held it for a few seconds before exhaling again. He’d just have to wait it out. 
A minute or so passed before Giorno saw the spider’s first taunt. It stuck out a spindly leg for him to see without exposing its body. It was a clever little beast, he’d give it that. But then, out it came trotting, this time with a friend. 
Giorno gasped in horror as it trapsed across his will, a large, hairy, orange spider. The little beast had brought out the Spider Queen to fight Giorno. The boy’s breaths became shallow and his face palled when he beheld the monstrosity. His secret weapon had already been flung and they were scuttling towards him, there was no way to escape!!! 
And then, the door opened. 
“Hey, Kiddo, time for dinner.” Hol Horse poked his head through the door. Giorno peeled his wide eyes from the wall, and turned towards Hol Horse without blinking.
“Is there something wrong kid?” Hol Horse noticeably tensed up, Giorno was a weird kid but staring at a wall looking like he was going to pass out was weird even for him. Hol felt Emperor appear in his hands while Giorno slowly gestured to the wall to his right with his eyes. 
Hol Horse slowly turned and aimed at: nothing. There was nothing on the wall. Giorno was shocked, a  little relieved honestly, but also terrified that the hairy orange spider queen had disappeared. 
“Girono, what's going on?” Hol Horse gave a little relieved sigh but was still holding on to Emperor. It wasn’t often that Giorno was frightened (if you could call that pale and unblinking face a fearful reaction and not something to be afraid of yourself). 
Giorno took a deep breath and let the words haphazardly fall out of his mouth, “THERE WAS A BIG SPIDER AND I HATE SPIDERS SO I THREW DADDYS SHOE AT IT BUT IT SURVIVED OR ESCAPED AND THEN RAN BEHIND THE BOOKSHELF BUT IT TURNED AT LOOKED AT ME AND THREATENED ME AND THEN IT CAME BACK OUT WITH THE SPIDER QUEEN AND SHES SO BIG AND ORANGE AND HAIRY SO I KNOW SHE HAS TO BE POISONOUS AND NOW SHE'S TRYING TO KILL ME BECAUSE I TRIED TO KILL THE OTHER SPIDER YOU HAVE TO SHOOT THEM NOW” 
Hol Horse paused for a few moments after that rambling mess, he needed some time to process what he’d just heard. 
“So it's just a spider?” 
“TWO VERY BIG SPIDERS” Giorno emphasized. Somehow the threat of the situation was not getting through to Hol Horse. Not only had the mansion been infiltrated by a large spider, an even bigger, harrier, and scarier spider had moved in too! Obviously this was the start to thier devious plan to torture Giorno. First it would be his room, then his hair, and then his brain! From there it would be all over. 
“Okay well I don't know what you want me to say but there are no spiders in this room so let's just go to dinner before your Dad tries to kill me again okay?” Giorno was very skeptical of the whole situation still, he didn't like leaving the battlefront without knowing where the enemy lurked, but he definitely did not want to be left alone in this room and Hol was already turning to leave. So he scampered after him. 
They made it a few doors down the hall before Giorno caught sight of them again. He violently tugged on Hol Horse’s sleeve and pointed to them. 
“What? These?” Hol Horse pointed to the spiders pretending to innocently weave a web. “These are just flies, Giorno. No spiders here.” 
Giorno had always feared that Hol Horse was stupid, but never before had he felt such utter dispair at the man’s lack of brains. His stupidity was going to kill them both if they didn't act soon.
“No they’re spiders Hol Horse! Look at the colors and the legs and the web they're in!” Giorno was doing his best to keep himself together. He absolutely refused to cry in front of such a man. 
“Look here kid,” Hol Horse pulled a thrashing Giorno up into his left arm, while using his right to swat at the spiders on the wall.
Hol opened his hand to show a trembling Giorno what looked like a mangled and somewhat exploded orange spider. 
“Giorno does this look like a spider to you?” The absurdity of the question threw him for a loop. 
“It looks like a smashed spider!” He managed to stutter out. 
“It's not a spider kid.” Hol Horse brought it a little closer to Giorno, who flinched, and tried to get a better look. 
“I can only count four legs. If this is a spider how come there aren't eight eyes and eight legs?” Hol Horse smugly retorted. 
Girono could not speak. It was like his tongue forgot how to make words and he kept opening and closing his mouth. How could he answer such a nonsensical question?
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rocorambles · 4 years
Note
Ok but imagine Takeru is placed as Natsu’s guard when Hinata has to go to meetings. Takeru tries to ignore how childish Natsu acts for a teenager and how many times she tries to get him to hang out with her or even play with her. Eventually he breaks and starts chatting with her and when he realizes how warped her mind is by Hinata’s care he is determined to help her. Eventually the two fall in love and Natsu starts rebelling against Shouyou’s coddling and rules and when he(1/2)
finds out Takeru is the person responsible in turning his little sister against him he kills him in cold blood. Natsu saw it all and has now seen who her brother really is, a monster. She’s full of anger and hatred and Shouyou isn’t a fan of her behaviour.
ANON, You really went “good night, Takeru”. 
Warnings: Emotional and Mental Manipulation
Okay, so this is going to be really tough for Hinata because on one hand yes, he is definitely not a fan of Natsu’s new angry and rebellious nature and he is genuinely heartbroken when she tells him that she hates him. But, on the other hand, Hinata truly does not want to hurt Natsu. Now this is where Oikawa would come into play. Oikawa cannot have his partner in crime be a liability and Hinata is so obviously distracted and not performing at his best while his mind is internally raging over what to do about Natsu and honestly, the way Natsu is now, she’s also a liability for their partnership. 
Oikawa has no qualms about playing and being the bad guy and he already has a plan to get both Hinata siblings back to��“normal”. It takes some convincing, but Oikawa always had such a smooth tongue and before you know it, Hinata gives the reigns of Natsu’s disciplining over to the handsome brunette with the promise that Oikawa won’t lay a hand on his sister. Easy enough. Oikawa doesn’t need to even lift a finger to mentally damage and manipulate someone. 
If Natsu thought her brother was a monster, she’s not prepared or even sure what Oikawa is as he drags her with him and makes her watch brutal, nightmarish acts of crime and torture day after day, night after night. He smirks at the way she screams for him to stop, at the way her eye bags grow larger and darker as she’s unable to sleep with her mind plagued by scenes of blood and guts and sounds of agonized screams. But he knows he’s almost there the day Natsu whimpers for her older brother to come and take her away from Oikawa and when he hears Hinata’s name slip past her lips, he begins to weave his web of lies. 
“Yes, Hinata killed Takeru, but did he really tell you the true reason why he did it? He did it to protect you. He did it because he loves you. He did it because when Takeru and you started your stupid little rebellion, I gave him a choice. Get rid of Takeru or get rid of you. And he chose Takeru. All this time you called your brother a monster, you told him you hated him, when all he wanted to do was protect you. You’re such a fucking brat. If anyone’s the monster here, it’s me not your brother.” 
Of course, only parts of that are true. Hinata does love Natsu, but he did kill Takeru without any prompting from Oikawa. He killed Takeru in cold blood, but Natsu doesn’t need to know that and he has to bite back the smile that threatens to sneak onto his face when she looks up at him and in a small voice says, “He did all that to protect me because he loves me?” And he almost full out laughs when Natsu’s confusion turns to anger, but anger directed at him instead of Hinata as she shouts insult after insult about what a monster he is for killing his own nephew. And when he sighs and finally delivers her back to Hinata, he winks at the orange haired man as Natsu throws herself at Hinata, crying and apologizing for ever doubting him before walking away with a pleased smile on his face. Isn’t it the best feeling when your plans work out perfectly? 
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gerbiloftriumph · 4 years
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The Size of Hope
(also on ao3)
Mordon isn’t certain what to make of the fairy tale king his goblin friends captured, and King Graham has no idea what to make of the huge and clumsy goblin who keeps running into his path. The two warily team up, but neither one belongs in the goblin kingdom, and some pain runs deeper than either expects.
(Gen canon-expansion fic putting scrapped fragments from the subtitle file back into the game. Full fic warnings: bruising, canon-typical violence, self-hatred, abuse, Goblins Do Not Make Good Friends)
~*~*~
3/5
(1: Seen)(2: Found)(3: Buried)
~*~*~
Some of the castle tunnels could carry sounds quite far, Graham realized. It made him uneasy. He could hear all sorts of things as they walked. He could hear low murmurs of other goblins (hopefully far away), could hear water dripping down and splashing into hidden underground pools, could hear the chittering chirp of those glowing salamanders as they scampered over walls. He was aware of how his boots rang against the stone, like that noise could pin him down as something that didn’t belong.
It perhaps wasn’t surprising that he heard the voice, then, since he was listening so carefully to shifting shadows. The voice itself, though, that was surprising, and he stopped, heart pounding in his throat.
Was that…Manny?
Positively inconceivable. Absolutely not. And yet. And yet, Graham had always known Manny had something to do with the kidnapping, hadn’t he? Or at least, suspected it, and this might be the proof he needed. He didn’t know why Manny would be here, didn’t know who he would be talking to, but it was certainly his lilting voice, coy and snide and manipulative, echoing gently along this side tunnel. Mordon and Graham had just passed it—it wasn’t on the way to the goblin king, it wasn’t important, but suddenly Graham very much wanted to see what was on the other end of it.
He glanced at Mordon. Suppose Graham did find Manny in these tunnels. Suppose he did confront him. This might be his only chance to do so, assuming Manny was really here and Graham wasn’t just imagining things. But if Mordon was with him, if Mordon saw Manny, if Manny had wrapped the goblins in that deceitful web of his…things could go wrong, fast.
Graham didn’t want Mordon to have to choose between loyalties. Especially because Graham thought he would probably lose that fight.
And, quietly, he wanted to keep Mordon as far away from Manny as possible anyway. He felt a curious need to keep the little (okay, not so little) goblin from that treacherous knight and his lies. Silly, perhaps. But if there was a chance their paths hadn’t crossed before, there wasn’t any reason to subject Mordon to that sort of manipulation.
Right. That’s an easy decision. Give it up, Graham. You’ve got more important things to worry about. Your friends need you. The Feys won’t make it another day and you know it. Find the king. Don’t get distracted. Find the king.
But…but hearing that voice had sent a horrible crackle down his spine. Made him think of things lost.
Wouldn’t seeing Manny be proof enough? He wouldn’t need to confront the knight, he would just need to see. And then he would know. The not knowing was the problem. Graham couldn’t act on a suspicion, not even against Manny: he couldn’t live with himself if he was somehow wrong. The question of who would do this to him, who would try to kill him in such a cruel, calculating way—he had to know.
Decision made.
“Stay here,” Graham said. “I’ll be right back.”
“What?” Mordon looked startled, even with the mask. Horrified, even.
“Stay here,” Graham repeated. “I’ve got to do something. I’ll be right back.”
“You…you’re leaving me?”
“Just for a minute.”
“No!” Mordon’s hands clawed at his helmet, like he was going to rip it off, before dropping them again.
“Mordon….” Oh, no, what have I done, he’s going to jump me, this is it, I’ve ruined everything.
“No one wants Mordon. Everyone always leaves.” Mordon was choking back tears, and he curled into himself even further, smaller and smaller, and his arms were covering his head like he was being attacked. “I am always left. No one wants me. I…I’m a monster.”
“Oh! Oh, no, no, that’s not it,” Graham said, relief slumping his shoulders. He tried that smile, the smile that Mordon seemed to like so much, and he knelt at Mordon’s level. He deserves better. “Mordon, it’s okay. Stay calm. I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re helping me, and I appreciate that, really. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back.”
“Promise?” Mordon snuffled.
“I promise.” Without thinking, he reached out and touched Mordon’s bruised arm, the lightest of affirmations, and then he turned and hurried down the side tunnel, leaving the goblin stunned and silent and alone.
~*~*~
Somehow, being alone added a whole new level of stress. Graham padded cautiously down the hall, pressed as close to the wall as possible. At least with Mordon, they could have pretended like he was being escorted somewhere by a guard. Now, though, it was abundantly clear that he was escaping.
The tunnel felt deserted. He couldn’t hear his “best friend” anymore. Maybe Manny had left, or had never been there in the first place, and this was a fool’s errand. He pushed on, wary of every soft sound.
The pale colors of the illuminated salamanders and mushrooms started to give way to a warmer, more familiar sort of light. Flickering torchlight brightened the tunnel with each step, until he found himself at the entrance to a library. Empty of anything but books and stories. Long banners hung from the shelves with illustrations from favored tales.
He was disappointed and desperately relieved at the same time.
In the center of the room stood a pedestal with what seemed like a special book on it. It was marked as some sort of prize winner, and Graham, after considering his options, stepped forward to have a look, curious about what goblins would treasure so highly.
He was startled to realize that he recognized it. When he had first been captured and brought into this underground kingdom, he had stood before some goblin in a rather impressive hat (a goblin Graham suspected might be more important than he’d assumed at the time). The goblin had compared Graham to this book—compared the real king of Daventry to the little illustrated king.
Idly, Graham flicked pages, skimming the story. He thought he recognized pieces of it. It described a kingdom overrun with rats, and a useless king who did nothing but make wishes to get rid of them without looking for any real solutions. And when a solution magically appeared, the town made eager promises to their savior and then failed to deliver on any of them. Justifiably, the whole village was magically stolen away by the piper with an enchanting flute….
Graham remembered the flute playing goblin.
He could picture the goblin standing on the rooftops of Daventry’s town, trilling and dancing like the piper in the illustrations. He wouldn’t forget it in a hurry—that goblin had cracked the flute over Graham’s head during the kidnapping. And here, the same flute, played during a similar kidnapping.
He gaped at the page, at the illustrated villagers vanishing into the caves. This person looked like Bramble. That one might be Chester, in the right light. And the one over on this page was wearing what could be Amaya’s blacksmithing apron. His stomach dropped, and he felt a clammy chill crawl across his skin.
With a shaking hand, he turned back to the front of the book, to the title page he had cheerfully ignored just a minute ago.
Written and illustrated by…Manny.
“Once, in a town just like the one you’re imagining, there was a beautiful castle that stood high on a hill.”
Graham’s hand curled into a fist.
Manny had known exactly what to do, had written a story with just enough injustice to incite the story-obsessed goblins to action. Of course they would want to play out this story, this entertaining tale, and punish the sly villagers who didn’t respect the piper.
And Manny wouldn’t have to do a thing once this story was written. He could sit back and watch as the goblins had their fun. And, to them, it was fun. Graham had seen dozens of examples of playacting by now. Even though they took it completely seriously, even though they hoped some magic would flourish and the frog would transform into a prince, it was still a game. He was still just a toy.
And if they forgot to feed their toy—or, more accurately, if someone broke the food supply line—the goblins wouldn’t notice or care. Graham was a character to tip out of a box and throw away when they got bored. Like the goblin they’d locked in a room to play Rumpelstiltskin until he could spin straw to gold, that poor skeleton he’d found hidden away and forgotten with nothing but a rusted spinning wheel and a towering pile of hay. Not flesh and blood to goblins in the midst of their play. Magic and words.
He closed the book with a thump. So, Manny was fighting with stories.
I can do that, too. I’m good at telling stories.
A story got them in this mess. A story might get them out again.
But he needed to be sure he could do it right. That he could weave the same magic that the goblins loved so much. He went to the shelves. If these books were elevated, kept here in a royal library, they were probably best to replicate as he spun his own. He’d only have one chance at this.
He was still feeling jangled and raw, so when he pulled out the first book and found it had nothing to do with fairy tales, he swore. He didn’t have a lot of time, and a book detailing various goblin pranks was hardly useful. He glanced at some illustration of baby swapping between humans and goblins, and angrily dropped the book, desperate to find something more helpful. Changeling stories were not what he wanted.
Changeling stories. He stomped across the room, muttering under his breath as he searched for something more useful than changeli—
He froze.
Changeling stories.
If Mordon would stand up straight…
Graham whirled, cloak swirling around him. The book had fallen open to that drawing of a human and a goblin exchanging places. His heart was pounding so hard in his ears that he almost didn’t notice the sounds of approaching goblins, but at the last possible instant he realized he was about to have company. He could hear the squeak of a door opening somewhere in the room. (What door? The room didn’t have a door, did it?)
There wasn’t time to get the book. He dove behind a reading desk, hands pressed over his mouth, cloak wrapped around his knees, out of sight and silent. He hoped.
Goblin footsteps were light and quick. Their leather-wrapped feet made practically no sound on the stone floor as they walked, but their stone armor made some scraping noises so he could sort of track where they were in the room.
There were multiple goblins, he thought. At least two.
This is it. I’m going to be caught.
They were coming closer to his hiding place. They were talking happily amongst themselves, and then they were suddenly silent, and Graham thought, Zards, they know something’s wrong. They’ve seen something. I’m dead. And if he was dead, his friends were, too. They wouldn’t get out of this, and he hadn’t even had a chance to try.
Someone leaned against the desk.
He pressed his hands harder against his mouth. He didn’t dare breathe. Everything seemed completely frozen, except for his heart, which wouldn’t stop racing. It was going to give him away: they would hear it thundering in his chest, how could they not…?
And then they were walking away, laughing again. They meandered down the hall, pushing each other and tripping each other and causing trouble.
Hours passed—or, more likely, a minute or two—before Graham eased himself from his hiding place. He inhaled sharp and desperate, lungs aching, knees like jelly, dizzy and weak and pathetic. He couldn’t make himself stand yet. He willed his nerves to calm again, feeling the ghostly imprint of his own fingertips where he’d pressed them against his cheeks.
He noticed the room was different—subtly, in a way he might not have noticed were he not sitting still. He blinked, shook his head, focused. Realized. When he’d entered the library, he’d been sure it was a dead end, but now he could see that one of the bookcases was slightly ajar—a secret door, like that out of a mystery story. Just open a crack, barely noticeable. The goblins had probably meant to close it behind them but hadn’t pressed hard enough.
And the book about the goblin pranks, the changeling story, was no longer on the floor. Not back in its place on the shelf. Gone with the goblins, and Graham wondered if he’d seen it in the first place or if his nervous mind, twisted up with stories and ideas, had conjured it from nowhere and taken it away again.
Briefly, selfishly, he wished it was the latter. But the secret sat in his gut, gnawing his empty stomach. A shroud of stone. A size that didn’t fit.
And that…that…
I need to get back to Mordon, he thought. But...what can I possibly say? What if I’m wrong? What might he do? What can I do?
Manny might still be here. Might be down that secret tunnel. Graham’s initial reason for coming down this path was still viable. And the delay might also give him the time to find the words he needed. He risked losing everything here, he knew. Every step he took could lead him to safety. Or to something deadly. Lives were depending on him making the right choice. Not getting distracted, not taking unnecessary risks. Bramble, Wente, Amaya, Chester, Muriel, the Merchant, Mr. Fancycakes, and now…
Now someone else might need him, too.
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mina-mauveine · 5 years
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Dens Leonis: Lion toothed, but Petal Soft
A bouquet of words for @merclucio​ for this year’s gift exchange hosted by the lovely @fieldsofvesuvia blog. 
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Summer came early to Vesuvia. The temperature and humidity had rose until anything more than the sheerest of fabrics meant clinging heat and sweat. Magdalene had spent an arduous hour trekking up to her spot. The rocky outcrop allowed her to view both the luscious greenery and frothing seas. 
The sunny skies had splashed the verdant fields with a thousand sproutings, displaying flowers in their brightest shades. The vibrancy of the landscape made it seem more a painting than reality. 
She sighed in relief when she dropped her pack onto the stony ground. Setting up took little time. Here she didn’t mind using her magic, smoky greys and white lit and unraveled the blanket, set up the fine china and filled it to the rim with the season’s favoured drink. She sat down as her magic weaved above her like a spider’s web, providing shelter from the scorching sun. 
She could finally breathe out here, have a moment uncrowded. The air was a bouquet of sea salt and flowery fragrances, she opened her charmed picnic basket and pulled out this morning’s bread.
A bush to her left rustled, but nothing emerged. She crushed the bread in her hand, the crackle of its perfectly baked skin made whatever was hidden within the shrubbery jostled excitedly about. 
Magdalene smirked and broke the bread in half. “You do know what wanting to be alone means, right?”
Volta’s head rose sheepishly from the hiding place. Magdalene could almost imagine the little bird wings settling anxiously over the smaller woman’s eyes, reaching towards the pink heart-shaped nose. But that was then and this is now. Volta’s pallor was no longer tainted by a sickly grey and she lacked the ravenous hunger linked to the demonic possession. 
Though with the famished expression on her face, it seemed Volta had forgotten that aspect of her freedom.  
“I was helping in the kitchen when you rushed by.” Volta licked her lips and stared longingly at Magdalene’s picnic basket. 
“Does ‘helping’ actually mean sampling?” 
Volta snapped open her eyes and quickly moved her head ‘no’. “I didn’t take anything in that basket, I swear it.”
“I’m guessing because the chef was guarding it from you?”
Volta gasped, her index finger catching at the corner of her lips. 
Magdalene laughed, and offered out the piece to Volta, only to yank it away when the tiny coutier tried to take the morsel back with her to the foliage. “Uh ah ah, you have to sit with me here if you want food.” 
Volta’s eyes gleamed, she scurried free from the bushes and plopped herself next to Magdalene. She happily perused the basket for more treats even as she chomped into the bread. 
“Hungry?”
Volta nodded, her lips covered in crumbs and yolk as she munched into a soft boiled egg.  
Magdalene grabbed Volta’s face, her companion squirmed until she used a cotton handkerchief to wipe at the mess. “Your mouth is a tad smaller now, huh?”
Volta giggled and looped her hands to rest on top of Magdalene’s wrists, content to be fussed over. “It’s just all so good.”  
“I bet,” Magdalene twisted Volta’s face this way and that and felt satisfied, “there’s no rush, the basket is charmed to be practically endless.”
Volta beamed up with such uncontained joy that it made Magdalene’s face heat up. 
“Ahhhh, you’re amazing my lovely magician!”
Magdalene felt her blush grow. She coughed and quickly pecked Volta on the forehead before focusing on setting out the picnic as it was meant to be served. She laid out a serving platter of cheeses from across the country and numerous other condiments and assorted cured meats.
She kept her eyes on the cutting board as she sliced the bread into thick chunks. “Go ahead, put whatever you want on.”
“Any combination?” 
Magdalene shrugged, watching as Volta splattered on as many options as she could overload onto her toast. 
“It’s going to fall over if you’re not careful.”
“I’ll eat it anyway.”
Magdalene rolled her eyes fondly. “Of course you would.” 
A gust of wind picked up with the tides, whirling loose petals and dandelion fluff into the air. The sky snowed down vibrant shades and downy puffs. The ascended bits drifted over the outcrop, piling onto the magical shelter Magdalene had formed. 
Most of the petals stayed free floating, finding other perches, but the more tenacious dandelion fluffs managed to land into Volta’s stack of food. 
“Oh, it’s ruined!” Volta said even as she took a hearty chomp into her tower of food, making any of the earlier cleaning moot. 
Magdalene waved her hand, her magic removing most of what had settled in the area.
“Valdemar is allergic to it and nothing they do ever helps,” Volta picked at the seedlings that remained in her meal, “Vulgora hates them, just hates them, ‘stupid, little, monstrous’, and then they would punch at the things until red in the face.” 
Magdalene looked at the courtier, her expression closed. 
Volta sighed to herself. “I tried to calm them down, but they wouldn’t hear it, the chambers almost got burnt down to rid the place of the weeds.” 
“How wasteful.” 
Volta tilted her head, looking a perfect resemblance of a confused pup. Whatever ire had started to build in Magdalene was calmed enough for her to take a lighter approach. “Why call it a weed?” 
“Uh… because…it is one?” Volta tried, food momentarily set down to wait in her lap. 
“Because it grows well no matter the location? Because it’s endures?”
Volta could only listen, trying to note the meaning of this discussion. 
“Dandelions are tenacious and rooted deeply to provide one of the most nutritious and versatile little plants and what do we do with it? Hate it and try to get rid of it, but guess what, it doesn’t get eradicated instead it dominates.” Magdalene waved her hand out to indicate the field of lush growth. “It’s admirable.” 
It seemed to click for Volta, her eyes suddenly knowing. “I guess we just call them weeds because we want to… There’s nothing wrong with the flower itself, the yellow makes me very happy and… it makes me think of the colour of your hair.” 
Magdalene could feel her blush return in full force, she grumbled out a thanks and looked over the cliffside where it sounded like someone was doing a horrible job at scaling the side wall. “There’s a path around the back, Lucio.” 
“Ah, hello my sweet Magpie, and no I don’t need some little side route.” Lucio grunted as he made another feeble stretch for a handhold. “I’ve got this just fine, this is the fastest way I’ll be…” he found himself half a perch and draped dramatically along it’s edge. “If only…if only someone would assist my own magic then I could just float on up.” 
“My king, you don’t have any magical abilities.” Volta also peered over the edge, speaking with her mouth full and nearly dropping crumbs onto lucio’s finely coiffed hair. 
“I do too!” He coughed. “Maggie,sweetie, you wouldn’t mind just…” He snapped his fingers and gave a whirl motion with his hand. 
“There’s. A. Path. In. The. Back.” 
“Now now, don’t be a sourpuss Mag!”
Magdalene stared. Lucio pouted his lips. 
Magdalene crossed her arms and moved away from the edge, making it so Lucio couldn’t see her anymore. 
“Babe?” 
“You’re ridiculous, I don’t know why I…” Magdalene summoned her magic, and tossed the King to land in a heap on the ground next to her and Volta. 
“Is that the aged Formaggio Imbriago?” Lucio straighten out. “You knew, that I knew, where you’ll be going and had my favourite wined flavoured treat readied.” 
“My king, you’re lactose intolerant!” Volta fretted. 
“Am not.” He said already serving himself a piece. 
“Why don’t you try the Bastardo del Grappa, that’s more your style, goat boy.” 
Volta let out a chortle loud enough to surprise the group, but she quickly returned to the basket, pilfering another treat. 
Lucio squinted at Volta, but then turned his eyes onto Magdalene. “Sticks and stones, Dollface.” 
“You’re awful.” 
“Ah, before I forget!” Lucio reached into his cape, and tugged free a bouquet of slightly crushed dandelions. “They’re almost all in puff form during this time, you don’t know how many people I had to order around to get these.” 
Magdalene took the bouquet, smiling at Lucio until he tried to give her a kiss. “No, your mouth is covered in food!” 
“How about just one kiss?” Lucio looked over to Volta, giving her a sly wink. “Maybe one from each of us?”
Volta clambered onto Magdalene’s side, leaning up to peck a kiss onto the other woman’s jaw. Lucio tried much the same. 
The serene naturescape was overshadowed by guffawing laughter and Magdalene promising bloody consequences, but her mood had certainly been elevated.
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James & Ava
James: [okay so we all know the mood is that he sees whatever she's posted and literally goes there immediately with no thought of who else could also be cos he NEEDS to check that she's alright. The drama of it all] Ava: [but luckily no one is there and she'd be so shocked but also grateful 'cos no one wants to be alone and feeling unwell, esp. not in hospital] James: [when he'd have to say he was her brother so he can take her #awkward] Ava: [lollol finding that more amusing than you would otherwise 'cos concussion breaking your awks] James: [oh she'd be so cute I can't] Ava: [just hugging him so hard] James: [we all need that moment but sadly it cannot last forever because he'd have some driver doing circles endlessly cos there's nowhere to park at hospitals ever] Ava: [seriously, and it's so expensive] James: [when you were so desperate to get in there you didn't think about how long it could have taken like she could've been admitted and that driver is just lowkey out there for the rest of time] Ava: [lmao i wonder how long he'd wait for that bag before getting bored, luckily they'd low-key be ready to get rid 'cos too busy and overcrowded] James: [practically pushing her out the door as soon as they saw someone show up for her so he doesn't even have time to give her a feelsy speech lol] James: [just help her out to the car boy, you've had a lot of practice with drunk girls in heels and it'd be the same vibe] Ava: [just saying thank you over and over] James: [meanwhile he's asking her if she's okay over and over like every step they trying to take here] Ava: ['Oh God, you must think I'm so stupid, I swear, they came out of nowhere'] James: ['We both know you're not stupid, Ava' shout out to that text cleverness 5ever tbh 'I'm just glad you weren't seriously hurt'] Ava: ['How have you been, I've been so worried' shoutout to this concussion giving me shameless freedom lol] James: [when you can only shake your head because 1. you ain't been good 2. you don't wanna tell her any of it and 3. you don't think you deserve her worry/ want her to worry about you] Ava: [sad face] James: [stopping to stroke said face, don't fall over girl, he's got you] Ava: ['James-' and then just looking 'cos what can you say] James: [looking back at her cos likewise but then you gotta drop them eyes cos so sad] Ava: ['you look tired' and making more of an actual effort to get into this car] James: ['I am tired' but helping her in and doing her seatbelt for her because not gonna see her struggle ever, telling the driver her address because there's nowhere else you can take her but home even though you have no idea if as soon as you get there someone is gonna show up for her and you obviously don't want that] Ava: [patting your shoulder like 'you can come sleep' like no no one can babe] James: ['no' but a little smile cos she's cute af 'I'm supposed to keep you awake'] Ava: [when you make a face like 😏] James: ['by which, of course, I mean, you've got a 8 hour date with Edward Cullen ahead of you'] Ava: [grinning like a fool but then being like, wait 'you'll stay though, can you?'] James: ['I'm not going to leave you alone' oh the heavy unspoken implication that she might not be if the friends or fam descend 💔] Ava: [resting your head on him as a silent thank you but then lifting it like 'so awake, promise'[ James: [stroking her hair and keeping an eye like] Ava: [being like let me tell YOU a story and honestly God knows but it'd be cute and she'd be trying to match his storyteller energy] James: [when that's lowkey the moment he falls in love with her bye] Ava: [asking the driver to play the new moon soundtrack] James: [loling and honestly when was the last time he did that, we all know it was when they were together] Ava: [live the emo life and love it babes] James: [he's GOTTA dance in his seat to keep her awake, no other reason #notanerd lol] Ava: [just clapping and cheering him on like nothing to see here driver God bless] James: [so not what that man was expecting to 👀 or 👂] Ava: [freaking out drivers is low-key a fave] James: [the one time you're happy about London traffic tbh] Ava: [even though we ain't gonna interrupt, you don't know that boy] James: [speaking of, probably send a text or something to check on the kids because you just ran like assumedly they at their grandparents but] Ava: [never leaving 'em with Chlo we all know] James: [lord her and Jay would kill each other] Ava: [I'd genuinely be worried for her safety so don't blame you remotely boy, least her parents are invested] James: [literally though & you can have those grandparents forever babs we ain't taking them away from you] Ava: [awkward that your mum never shows but that's just that on that] James: [lbr that's for the best stick with your dads kiddos] Ava: [we all know it, even if Matty might not end up remembering much] James: [Ava lowkey her mum now oops] Ava: [and Jay's actual auntie...lol what a tangled web we weave boo] James: [at least they can all stay connected] Ava: [true facts] James: [makes my heart happy even if it's weird] Ava: [lean in to how weird this family is James] James: [they weird af but they're better than the one he's got #noshadetoTeddythough] Ava: [all the shade to you Chlo, sort it out] James: [her poor future children & husband] Ava: [honestly, good luck] James: [he'd have to be about everything she is or else what the fuck] James: [anyway we've been sidetracked get to Baze's house you two] Ava: [movie marathon awaits, what else do we vibe or shall we just try and see what comes out, like] James: [let's just run with it and see what happens because we extra and anything could be said and done tbh] James: [imagine how awkward it'd be when they get there because he'd have to send her in first and just be shitting himself in the car like is anyone there or no] Ava: [at least you know full well no one is there 'cos business trips forever so you're just at the door shaking your head and doing the 'come on' gesture] James: [he'd just help her to the sofa like immediately & get her blankets and pillows and painkillers (even though it wouldn't touch a concussion headache) and a phone charger and everything else she could possibly need cos Chloe's got him trained like a dog] Ava: [low-key pulling at him, gently, like boy sit down] James: [when you are then looking at her like what did I forget/ do wrong before you realise] Ava: [squeezing his hand because you can only say thank you so many times, putting the film on but then pausing and gasping so dramatically 'coffee, I promised you coffee' and going to get up like can you be careful please] James: [thinking she's in pain or something because of that gasp so being at her side like 0-1000 and slowing her down cos they can do it together thank you] Ava: [making a face at herself like ffs when she catches on 'I'm not trying to age you' and touching his non-grey hair and wrinkles like totally necessary yep] James: ['but you're offering me coffee, what's next red meat or red wine?' but no actual shade cos we both know he doesn't care and none of that is what's aging him anyway, taking her hand from his face and gently kissing said hand before handholding to lead her to her own kitchen like let's do this] Ava: ['I don't know where my cigarettes are' shrugs and smiles like sorry not sorry, smiles even harder but lowkey stops breathing when, kissing ontop of where he just kissed her hand, then getting to this all-singing all-dancing coffee machine 'you have to pick the most daring option, one you've never, ever tried before, okay?' and waggling her finger like so serious about this] James: [takes his own cigarettes out of his pocket and slides the pack over to her 'okay' and does pick, really concentrating on the decision even though there'd be so much shit he hasn't tried and we all know he could just pick option 1 and be done] Ava: [takes one out and puts it behind her ear for later 'cos no need to light up in your parents home, just watching him 'cos so cute and then nodding like yes, good choice and picks the same, setting up this machine 'cos they're always more confusing and/or time-consuming than they need to be I swear] James: [where's the lie you gotta have the knack I swear, his turn to watch her now though because she's beautiful doing anything ever and he missed her so bad] Ava: [ahh coffee goodtimes forever] James: [he needs it cos he is tired af so thanks Ava you babe] Ava: ['do we talk about what happened, or do we write it off?' when you just saying this casually whilst waiting for your coffees] James: ['I don't know' because he is genuinely torn between wanting to and also not] Ava: ['Wait and see how we feel' 'cos no rush or pressure here 'you better carry these though' 'cos we don't need burns as well ty] James: ['wait here a minute for me' because carries the drinks through and then comes back for her because why not carry her though as well obvs] Ava: [does and loves it 'I've missed you, you know'] James: ['I know now' just giving her 😍 casually 'I've missed you too'] Ava: [😍 right back 'Ask anyone' when you're talking about your mood but you realize that sounds like you been telling the world lol 'I mean, I've been a delight' 🙄] James: [when you shake your head like no it's okay 'I overreacted about your cousin, I'm sorry' takes a deep breath remembering that whole sad ending moment 'And I'm sorry for fucking up the start of your summer' because she loves it and he knows] Ava: ['I understand why, understood, whatever. And I am still sorry, I was just too excited and-' sighs like, you know, squeezing his hand again 'I promise, that's all sorted now though' 'cos clearly told her it's over by now, 'cos thought it was anyway; she nods like thanks but shrugs like it's okay too, don't worry 'Sure even I can't be grumpy in the Seychelles, like'] James: [blatantly almost kissing her because he understands the whole being too highkey thing because he was (*cough* is) too but doesn't because she's going away 'when are you going?'] Ava: [sad face like you didn't just say you aren't gonna be grumpy 'when my parents get back, couple of days'] James: [strokes her face again like he did earlier 'you'll feel better by then' because someone's meant to watch you for 48 hours actually NHS website says] Ava: [😈 me 😇 her looking at him 'how did you even- why- I-' continuously cutting herself off 'cos you know he was checking in on you now and you know he came without hesitating so it doesn't need to be said 'Oh, James'] James: ['Ava' saying her name with SO MUCH feeling that I cannot 'I had to' when you mean so many things by that like you had to go but you have to stay now and you had to make sure she was okay today but also you had to keep checking on her the whole time] Ava: [definitely gonna go in to kiss him can't stop that soz] James: [we all know it was only a matter of time and that this is gonna turn into a not at all casual make out session] Ava: [you honestly deserve it lads] James: [that coffee gonna be cold and they won't even notice] Ava: [the movies are also not being watched lmao but no one cares rn] James: [on pause forever sorry not sorry] James: [but eventually like after AN AGE one of them should lean on the remote or whatever so it starts playing and they're like wtf] Ava: [when you shit yourself like who is here but then loving 'cos hi Edward] James: [we all shitting ourselves and all loling] Ava: ['he's very possessive' no lie] James: [looking at Edward and then kissing her again like when you're trying to make someone jealous] Ava: [when you're loling too hard into his mouth like 'scuse me] James: [kissing her neck instead so she can have her adorable lol] Ava: [reacting to that in a v different way] James: [we back at it again at krispy kreme soz twilight saga] Ava: [i swear to god the ily curse is so real] James: [this always happens to us, don't talk for a bit lads, wink wonk] Ava: [its because we give them such high-pressure situations but yes, you should fully hook up 'cos haven't yet] James: [I wonder if the orgasm headache thing would work for a concussion one or not] Ava: [my boo says #experiment] James: [imma google it but I don't expect an answer] James: [nobody is telling me but if it can help a migraine I don't see why it wouldn't] Ava: [you'll be fine bitch, just a shameless excuse that he needs to hang around longer] James: [we should totally also do the shameless thing when he falls asleep and then wakes up immediately but is like oh no how long was I asleep because not only worried about her we know] Ava: [for sure, just there chilling like 🥰 'not long, but you looked peaceful'] James: ['I was' and more 😍 'I am' just snuggling happily because deserved af] Ava: [kissing the top of his head 'good' then lying down and snuggling harder 'I'm so glad you're here, that you're okay'] James: ['I'm glad that I'm here & that you're okay' kissing her forehead and holding her so tightly because he was so worried that something much worse had happened to her] Ava: ['It was kinda scary how much I missed you- like I said I WAS extra but I think, no, I still am, I can't lie to you'[ James: [when you are just falling so hard for her rn smiling like look at this perfect 😇 'you don't have to miss me any longer, minus however long you're spending in the Seychelles, of course'] Ava: ['Yeah?' trying but failing not to sound so hopeful 'And two weeks, so not as long as it has been, not that I was definitely counting or anything'] James: ['I was afraid, no, I am afraid but very few things have ever scared me as much as when I saw you were in hospital & I thought-'] Ava: [just holding him back even tighter like you could not be closer 'I'm so sorry I scared you, I won't ever do it again, even if I get hit by something more substantial than a 90lbs mum on a lightweight bike' and shaking her head with a lil lol 'cos it is funny even though it can be as bad as a car crash actual sometimes] James: ['You scare me in the best ways, you don't have to stop, I don't want you to' because think of the new things he's already done and the new things he's already felt, it makes me emosh goodbye] Ava: [when that's the hottest thing you've ever heard like 'scuse me round two] James: [you've actually got all night for once so make the most of it lads] Ava: [like literally no one needs it more than him so I'm allowing it, there's enough shit happened, happening and still to come] James: [amen to that] Ava: [happy bubble forever] James: [if only like, he is NOT gonna wanna leave in the morning but maybe we could say that like Jay has a playdate with friends or something cos soz babe you can't keep a secret so he just gets the baby and comes back] Ava: [that would be a moment] James: [just casually meet each other how cute] Ava: [have a normal, happy day like you're meant to oh] James: [you all deserve it truly] Ava: [meet your potential future stepchild babe] James: [do we wanna have them go out or stay in?] Ava: [🤔 obvs really want them to go to Kensington Park 'cos Peter Pan and like obvs I doubt anyone who would be bothered to report to Chloe is gonna be there but it is risky so maybe save it idk] James: [we will bookmark that for the future because MUST but they could take Frank on a walk somewhere cos we ain't referenced that sweet sir even if it's just through the streets like] Ava: [that's a good shout, you better be a good boy lol] James: [and don't cockblock them rn please] James: [they'd look like a little fam, I am FINE] Ava: [and lowkey behave more like one in one day like the bar is so low tah Chlo] James: [the scolding tea] James: how are you feeling? Ava: 😊 So happy Ava: Only a bit tired from the whole staying awake thing and you keeping me awake, like 😏 Ava: oh, and Frank said you've redeemed yourself so well done there too Ava: how're you and the girls? James: I'm happy to hear all of that James: has your dizziness gone? James: we're fine, but tired too Ava: Yeah Ava: barely a headache Ava: and my parents get in early AM so I should be all set to go when they do get here James: how much packing is there left to do? Ava: All of it but deciding which 14 bikinis I wanna take shouldn't take too long James: are you sure? I think it would take me a really long time to decide Ava: I'll put some stories up Ava: You can help me Ava: I reckon I need your clearly more considered opinion James: of course you do James: you wouldn't want to spend the entirety of your holiday wishing you'd chosen differently Ava: so true Ava: especially as I'm not allowed to pack my pout James: everyone is well aware of how important the pursuit of a tan is to you, darling, anything that jeopardises that, well, it's bound to be very pout inducing James: you'll be forgiven Ava: I don't know if my family is as forgiving as you Ava: perhaps they don't like my pout as much Ava: they definitely aren't as supportive in bikini related decision making James: I'll dedicate paragraphs to both James: multiple lengthy ones Ava: It'll seem gratuitous in the movie but nothing is too much for the book James: as long as it remains included in the director's cut James: or else I will be devastated Ava: I'll demand it in my contract Ava: I think it'll be a first in favour of taking your clothes off instead of keeping 'em on James: thank you James: you do deserve a multitude of firsts, honestly Ava: you deserve so much Ava: much more than I'm allowed to give you Ava: that reminds me Ava: as I can't give you anything as a thank you, I've had to get creative James: so much of what I deserve is negative & there is nothing you owe to me in any capacity, thanks included James: but I'd never want to discourage creativity Ava: Shh sh Ava: in the spirit of firsts and trying new things Ava: when you're all less worn out, go to [a sassy but kid-friendly cafe/restaurant that's a bit out there and exotic and definitely nowhere Chloe has ever made you take her] and tell 'em you're eating on me, yeah Ava: then when I get back and you're free, you're coming over and I'm cooking James: Ava Ava: It's already arranged, I go there all the time, it's the 2nd best Brazilian food I've had James: you've been to Brazil for the 1st, haven't you? I can tell Ava: Actually no, mores the pity Ava: but my Uncle is Brazilian and a chef, my cousin too Ava: having a big weird family has unexpected perks Ava: if you like it, I already have a recipe lined up that's meant to be 🔥 but even a novice like me can master it James: you'll have to wait patiently for my review because I regrettably can't send you a picture of my face after the 1st mouthful to serve as one, but okay Ava: I'll do my best Ava: though having any patience when it comes to you doesn't seem to be my strong suit Ava: arguably not a virtue I'm known for, ever, but especially now James: I'll do my best not to miss you so hard that it's physically painful but that doesn't appear to be my strong suit either & as previously agreed, I won't make any promises I'm forced to immediately break Ava: Oh Ava: Knowing it wasn't just me finding out that painful cliche is painfully real is somehow a comfort, to know you'll want to avoid the feeling as much as I do from now on but it also hurts me even more, the idea of you having to feel it at all in the first place Ava: but there is no conflict in just how hard I'm looking forward to seeing you again after this ill-timed holiday James: I don't ever want you to be in pain because of me, I have to insist on only the good cliches going forward James: devastatingly a postcard can't be included in that Ava: Hmm, got any long-lost great aunties I can pretend to be? 🤔😂 James: If I do my wife is bound to be aware of them, their current financial situation & any possible health concerns they are facing Ava: Valid Ava: Don't need to give her any more reason to 💀💀💀 me Ava: At least no holiday is complete without the obligatory narcissistic poolside shoot James: suffice to say I've never had a complete holiday, in that case Ava: I bet you've had to be cameraman plenty though Ava: so rude when you're so nice to look at James: & yet I've never been trusted to pick a filter Ava: 🙄 Ava: does she not know that you're an artiste James: no, it's our secret Ava: 😊 I like that James: I like you Ava: I like that more James: I wish I could see you again before you go Ava: Me too Ava: I kinda wish I weren't going James: how early are your parents getting back exactly? Ava: like 4am kinda early James: I won't make you stay awake again James: I know how tired you must be Ava: 🥺 James: I'm so relieved that I can't see that look on your actual face Ava: It's 💔 Ava: but I'll survive Ava: about James: you're a very strong person Ava: You James: I'm not Ava: You are though Ava: you put up with so much shit James: is that strength or is it weakness? Ava: I think it's strength Ava: You can't necessarily stop shit happening or get shit out of your life Ava: no matter how strong Ava: and you manage to do all the shit you have to regardless James: I'd like to think you're right Ava: Then you should Ava: I encourage it Ava: 🤓 me James: you are undeniably clever Ava: Try to be Ava: when I'm not standing in the middle of cycle paths, obviously James: I heard you say that bike came out of nowhere Ava: Yeah Ava: I miss you already Ava: Frank is not as good a nurse, like at all James: if you can fall asleep now, I'd feel less guilty about the prospect of asking you not to later James: should I hypothetically be able to get away Ava: 🛌🏃 Ava: Promise James: I can't give you a promise back Ava: I know Ava: but this way, I either stay asleep and that's that Ava: or I get the best surprise to wake me up James: what did I do to deserve you? Ava: This is the part where I say something very bad but Ava: you don't seem capable Ava: you're just James: whatever it was, I need to know so I can keep doing it Ava: just be you Ava: another cliche you've proven to be true and real James: this fortnight without you is going to be really cliche James: there's no chance of it existing beyond the 1st draft Ava: not even for my eyes only? James: well James: maybe Ava: Please please please James: okay James: you are my fairest critic & you do have beautiful eyes Ava: Yours are better Ava: but I won't be too jealous if I get to look at them more James: I definitely can't promise not to be envious of everyone in the Seychelles who will get to look at you more than I can Ava: Do you ever get a decent lunchbreak? Ava: we could facetime James: I'll figure something out James: because my dad takes the longest lunch breaks, you'd be forgiven for thinking it's the 80s Ava: 😏 we love a throwback 🙄 James: I'll take Matty to work with me, she'll distract whoever I need her to Ava: She is very cute Ava: I see it James: I won't be saying anything the like of that if she won't sleep tonight though Ava: 🤞 for you and her Ava: shame she's not yet at the walking stage Ava: Frank is so 💤 James: I can't keep her in any kind of routine, it's frustrating for both of us Ava: That's hard James: it's harder for her than it is for me, she never knows what's happening Ava: She'll get there Ava: I was the worst baby Ava: hopefully before you totally lose your mind, 'course James: I find it impossible to believe you weren't 😇 Ava: I was pretty premmie so my poor parents were confined to perpetual bright light for ages when I got home James: both the girls were so late James: that was an entirely different struggle Ava: I can imagine how delightful Ava: usually excusable but when you set the bar low to begin with 😬 James: the last thing I want to do is badmouth her to you, but as we know, sometimes things write themselves Ava: I feel you Ava: not a cliche I particularly wanna be either James: of course not Ava: but you can vent, you know Ava: I don't even have to reply, just if you need to put it somewhere James: no, I can't Ava: okay, just a suggestion James: so much of this is already not fair to you, Ava Ava: I don't think it is Ava: you've never lied about any of it, you're always realistic about what you can and can't give me Ava: and I'd like to help, in any tiny way I'm able James: you don't know what she's like & I'd rather you didn't have to know James: let's keep it at you don't do sympathy Ava: I know very little but that's not positive so it doesn't take your author level of imagination if I wanna go there without your guidance Ava: and it isn't sympathy but okay Ava: I won't mention her and you don't have to either James: I just can't have you seeing me differently because Ava: I'd never see you differently because of what she's like as a person James: it's too big of a risk for me to take, that you'll end up thinking less of me than you do now Ava: You can trust me Ava: but you don't have to Ava: I won't push anything, I don't need to Ava: as much as I want to take things fast in so many respects, I'm never going to take it where you don't want it James: it isn't you I don't trust James: I'm not a reliable narrator, she's made sure I'm not Ava: However...intertwined and diluted you feel your story got, because of her, because of whatever Ava: it's always gonna be your story to tell, if you want it Ava: and I'll always listen to how you tell it James: Ava Ava: James James: if it was a story I was in control of I'd come to the airport & tell you not to go James: cliche or not Ava: and I'd stay Ava: but that's far too much like a happy ending and we've only just begun James: you're right again Ava: don't sound so surprised 😉 James: I was actually trying to decide where it falls on the scale of ideas & habits, good, bad or somewhere in between James: that you always seem to be Ava: Have you drawn a conclusion yet? James: I couldn't possibly tell you James: you're supposed to be asleep Ava: damn Ava: you'll tell me in the morning? James: yes Ava: Okay, I'll go, as long as you know it is so reluctantly it's practically under protest James: & I won't stay here hoping you don't, as long as you know it's under identical conditions Ava: Noted Ava: Goodnight and sweet dreams for whenever that happens for you then, love James: thank you
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ceridwenofwales · 5 years
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Random but remember the scene where Lagertha killed Aslaug she said that Aslaug bewitched Ragnar. Rewatching vikings & in S1 ep.9 Lagertha goes to the Seer to ask about the dreams she’s having. She fears for Ragnar’s life and the Seer tells her that the shadows are from Hel’s Hall, the shadows want to take something from her. He also tells her that Ragnar is in danger from the magical world. This is the episode where Gyda dies and Aslaug is introduced. She really did bewitch him. Thoughts?
I’m so sorry that took me this long to reply. I needed to watch two episodes of the first season and check it out some of my favorite sources to give you a more appropriate reply. I don’t think Aslaug bewitched Ragnar and I’ll explain why I think so.
I was writing a meta and Dumblr (how I lovingly refer to Tumblr when it sucks) erased my highly detailed post. ;(
Brace yourself, it’s a meta. Hahahahaha.
I think to answer this we have to go back to episode 8 from season one “Sacrifice”. Lagertha suffered a miscarriage and they are preparing to go to Uppsala to ask for the Gods’ favor.
Ragnar: “Of course I’m happy. Why should I not be happy? When we reach Uppsala, we shall ask the gods why they give with one hand, but take away with the other? Why they make me Earl, yet kill my son?”
Lagertha: “We can have more sons.”
Ragnar: “Have we not tried?”
When they reach Uppsala, Lagertha and Ragnar talk to the Gods:
Lagertha: “Freyr, lord, fill me with seed and give me a son. Do as you will with me, make me blind or deaf if you want to, but give me a son. Accept the sacrifices of blood we make to you, the honor we offer you. My lord, make me conceive again before it’s too late.”
Ragnar: “Lord of lords, father, hear my prayer. Let me understand your will. Is it true that I shall have more sons like the seer says? Accept the sacrifice I plan to offer you and then answer me. Who will bear me my son?”
Notice that Ragnar is already doubting Lagertha will bear him another child and searching for the fulfillment of his prophecy elsewhere. Aslaug was yet to be introduced at this point.
Seer: “Do you think your husband is in some kind of danger?”
Lagertha: “I’ve had strange and disturbing dreams.”
Seer: “What happens in your dreams?” 
Lagertha: “Dark shapes come to me at night. Monstrous forms. When I wake, they skulk in the shadows, shapeless, but no sooner am I asleep than they creep forward again.”
Seer: “Ah, yes. The shadows come from hell’s hall. No one can ensnare them, not even the gods.”
Lagertha: “What is it that they want?” 
Seer: “To take something from you.”
Lagertha: “My life?” 
Seer: “No, something far more important to you than that.”
Lagertha: “My husband’s life? Tell me.”
Seer: “Why must you all force me up and unearth me to sorrows? Your husband is in danger, but not for his life. He is in danger from the magical world.”
Lagertha: “How? Answer me.”
Seer: “I was unwilling to speak and I will say no more now!”
The Seer is clearly disturbed by Lagertha’s insistence and dismisses her. 
In the following scene, Arne and Torstein see Aslaug bathing and she seems curious at the mention of his name. I think, as a Völva, she knew her destiny was with Ragnar and told his men that Ragnar should apologize to her on their behalf.
Ragnar: “Who is she, anyway, to put such a high price on her nakedness?”
Arne: “We didn’t ask.”
Ragnar: “I’m intrigued.”
Bjorn: “What’s so intriguing?" 
Ragnar: "Sometimes the gods put things like this in front of us as some kind of test.”
Ragnar then challenges Aslaug to join them neither dressed nor undressed.Neither hungry nor full, neither in company nor alone.
Siggy: “What did the Seer tell you?" 
Lagertha: "He said that it’s true; That Ragnar is in danger.”
Siggy: “From whom?" 
Lagertha: "I don’t know.”
Siggy: “Who do you think?" 
Lagertha: "I think he is in danger from himself.”
Lagertha knows Ragnar is ambitious and this scene is symbolic because as we talk about free will and fate, Lagertha is working on a loom. The Norse people believed the fate was woven by the Norns and so the female’s role of weaving, spinning, etc was related not only to the Norns but also to the practitioners of seiðr. 
Any kind of textile work, particularly weaving, was believed to be a way of exercising supernatural power. One enigmatic aspect of seiðr is that it was connected with ergi ‘unmanliness’. If seiðr was spinning, it would certainly be unmanly for men, because spinning was the most characteristic women’s work. The feminine character of spinning also fits with seiðr in other ways. Firstly, manipulation of other people’s lives was also done by other kinds of women’s work.
There’s another important scene that implies this symbolism: Floki and King Horik’s conversation happens as they see a spider’s web. Floki is saying that the wolf Fenrir couldn’t be constrained by any mean known to humans.
Floki: “I came to ask about Jarl Borg. He won’t sell. He wants to make a deal.”
King Horik: “I’m not interested in deals.”
Floki: “That would make it hard for Ragnar.”
King Horik: “Ragnar will come to the right conclusion, and make the right decision.”
Floki: “Don’t you care if the negotiations fail? 
King Horik: “Mm Look!" 
Horik shows Floki how the spider attacks the fly trapped in its web. The web here can represent more than fate. Horik sent Ragnar to a doomed mission in hope Borg and Ragnar would destroy themselves and he would be rid of two problems at once. Let’s remember Ragnar is getting more famous than the King himself. Jarl Borg tried to convince Ragnar to form an alliance against King Horik and then asked Rollo to join him against Ragnar. There are more threats to Ragnar than the arrival of Aslaug.
When Aslaug agrees to follow Ragnar and his companions to the Ash tree that is believed to be Yggdrasil, he asks her:
“Why did you come along with me?” 
Aslaug: “Because I had no choice.”
Ragnar kisses her for the first time and later on when Aslaug gives him the news she is pregnant, she says:
"I’m carrying your child. Did the Seer not promise you more sons?”
We might interpreter her words as a sign she knew of her role in Ragnar’s fate and that’s why she mentioned she had no choice earlier. Ragnar is conflicted because while he seems pleased his prophecy is being fulfilled, he knows Lagertha won’t take it lightly.  
Now we have to examine the reasons why Lagertha could be suspicious Aslaug bewitched Ragnar.
The vǫlur were referred to by many names. Old Norse völva means “wand carrier” or “carrier of a magic staff”, and it continues Proto-Germanic *walwōn, which is derived from a word for “wand”.
Historical and mythological depictions of vǫlur show that they were held in high esteem and believed to possess such powers that even Odin consulted a völva to learn what the future had in store for the gods. Such an account is preserved in the Völuspá, which roughly translates to “Prophecy of the Völva ”.
In addition to the unnamed seeress (possibly identical with Heiðr) in the Vǫluspá, other examples of vǫlur in Norse literature include Gróa in Svipdagsmál, Þórbjǫrgr in the Saga of Erik the Red and Huld in Ynglinga saga.
The vǫlur were not considered to be harmless. The goddess who was most skilled in magic was Freyja, and she was not only a goddess of love, but also a warlike divinity who caused screams of anguish, blood and death, and what Freyja performed in Asgard, the world of the gods, the vǫlur tried to perform in Midgard, the world of men. The weapon of the völva was not the spear, the axe or the sword, but instead, they were held to influence battles with different means, and one of them was the wand.
The vǫlur were known for their art of seduction, which was one of the reasons why they were considered dangerous. One of the stanzas in Hávamál warns against sexual intercourse with a woman who is skilled in magic, because the one who does so runs the risk of being caught in a magic bond and also risks getting ill. Freyja, who is the mistress of seiðr, has a free sexual life that gives her a bad reputation in certain myths.
One of the methods for seducing men may have been the use of drugs. In Fyrkat, the grave of a völva revealed the use of henbane, a drug which not only produces hallucinations but can also be a powerful aphrodisiac. If Freyja was the goddess of love in Asgard, the völva was her counterpart in Midgard.
There’s also an interesting post by @dyannehs that points out a new interpretation of the archaeological evidence of women being buried with weapons as being practitioners of seiðr and not female warriors/shieldmaidens.
This hypothesis doesn’t dismiss the shieldmaiden entirely. There’s room for a sword-wielding woman if we ever gather enough evidence to support it. But that would not have been the normal role for women in battle. This hypothesis states that if women went into battle (and if they did, then they would have been a very small minority on the field), then they were not warriors but sorceresses, who would literally be casting spells and reciting charms and curses left and right and practicing magic in an attempt to sway the outcome and protect their own men and homes.  
These women would have been in commune with the Valkyries and the gods, urging the fate of the battle in a certain direction. And the weapons found in their graves were not meant to be used but were symbolic of prowess in battle as something removed from warriors.  
After all, how else can you physically represent the power of magic in battle?
And we know that sorcery in battle was a legitimate thing. Practitioners of seiðr had a wide range of battle magic and could perform such feats as instilling fear into the enemy, hindering the enemy’s movements, strengthening armour and weapons, weakening armour and weapons, providing invulnerability, providing other protections from weapons and enemy sorcery, killing enemy soldiers, fighting and killing enemy seiðr practitioners, and breaking enemy curses. 
While a Völva was highly respected, there was also a reverential fear for the power they held. I don’t believe Aslaug manipulated or bewitched Ragnar. I think she only knew her destiny was entwined with his. I talked about Aslaug’s fate here as well.
Sources: 
Seiðr
Old Norse religion in long-term perspectives
Women and Magic in the Sagas
Völva: Sexual Rites and Drugs
Seiðr and Norse Shamanism
Spae-craft, Seiðr and Shamanism
Viking Women
Norns
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dreamstormdragon · 5 years
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OC Snippet Tag
Rules of the game: Pick an OC and answer the following 7 Qs!
I got tagged by @theblueskyphoenix
As for an OC… Darnit making me choose between all my babies.
I pick my Spider-Verse OC Athena Parker, because I’ve been wanting to do more with her but am on a bit of a “Don’t do anything new until after nano” so… Yeah.
1. Your OC is at a jazz bar when they see a mysterious, alluring dame being pestered by a joe that just won’t let up. What do they do?
She, really wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. She was just there to make a trade of goods, with a seller because it was cheaper than shipping.
However, she wasn’t about to sit there and watch that happen. The girl stood up, adjusting her gloves, taking aim.
The guy opened his mouth, for another pickup line, when he was silenced by a glob of web across his mouth. He let out a muffled yell of alarm, as he started looking around, expecting New York’s favorite webslinger to be hanging around the bar somewhere.
Athena tapped the woman’s shoulder gesturing for her to sit next to her.
“Thank you… I have no idea where that came from though.”
She smiled.
“Maybe there’s a friendly neighborhood spider chilling around. Root beer?”
“Please.”
2. The world will be destroyed in three days. What does your OC do with their remaining time?
The world, was going to collapse in three days. No one had expected that blasted device, to be recreated in another universe… Let alone a universe full of danger like no other.
“This is going to be tough.” She remarked, looking down at the ruined city, her hair blowing in the wind.
The man beside her, narrowed his eyes, giving her a nudge.
“You wanna sit and wait for the world to die, or get home in time for dinner?”
Athena smirked, pulling down her mask.
“Let’s stop the zombie apocalypse. I wanna punch zombie you in the face.”  She gave a thumbs up, showing she had a capsule in one hand. “We can make a cure rain right?”
Peter patted her head, before pulling his own mask down.
“Let’s roll.”
3. Your OC spends the night in a haunted house for a bet, only to realize that the rumours might be true… What do they do?
She hummed a little under her breath, her mind trying to block out any of the noises coming from around her.
Yarn over, pull through, yarn over pull through…
The air around her went cold, as something icy grabbed her shoulder.
“I, swear if you interrupt my counting I’m gonna sock you.” She growled, turning as a large misty apparition shrunk down behind the couch. “That’s what I thought!”
“Boss…” A voice whispered. “What do we do? She just gets mad!”
“Take her dang yarn!”
Athena held up a spray mister, meant for plants.
“You touch my yarn, I cleanse you out of this dimension.”
4. A character your OC cares deeply about has just passed away. How do they handle their grief?
She supposed, it was too good to be true. To believe she’d ever have a full and happy family, where no one was going to disappear from her life.
She sobbed harder, burying her face into a bundle in her arms. His spare suit, his mask… It still smelled like the laundry soap he used for it and baby powder.
MJ was downstairs, dealing with the press but Athena… Athena couldn’t go down there. It was just a reminder, that in the end…
 Spider-Man, chose to save her instead of himself.
Dad… Why? Why did you do this to me?
 She sat up, slowly staring down at the mask. No more night time runs in their casual clothes, no more sitting up late watching movies while making jokes.
No more dramatic sighing whenever we go to the craft store…
No more tucking me in at night… No more kissing Mom goodbye before patrol…
“You were supposed to be there for me… I’m not ready for this part…. I’m not ready,...” She growled, her voice shaking as she punched the mask down into her mattress. “You were supposed to give me away at my wedding you jerk!”
She sunk down into her bed, curling up.
“You… You were the only one who got what I’m going through…”
Dad….
Please come back.
Please let this be a bad dream I can wake up from…
I need you… I’m scared.
Daddy, I’m scared…
I’m scared of the dark...
 5. Your OC walks into a coffee shop. What kind of coffee do they order?
Athena hummed a little, strolling into her favorite shop.
“Ah, if it isn’t the weaver!” The barista laughed. “How hard did your dad’s credit card cry this time?”
Athena grinned, holding up a hefty bag from her favorite yarn store.
“Pretty bad. Can I have a mocha frapp with extra java chips, six pumps of vanilla and caramel?” She asked.
The barista winced.
“Oh… Oh, you are terrible. You want actual coffee in that?”
Athena stuck her tongue out.
“Nope. Give me my overly sugary drink fix please!”
6. Your OC finds themselves in a financial pinch - they need money, and fast. Who do they go to or what do they do to get the dough?
Athena sighed heavily, looking up from her laptop, to the people across the room. Her mother met her eyes, as she shook her head getting up quickly. She wanted no part of this upcoming war.
“Daaaad.” She called, in the most sugary sweet voice she could manage. “How much do you love me?”
Peter didn’t look up from the report he was typing up for the Bugle. “How much is this gonna cost me?”
“Just… a hundred and fifty…”
“For what?”
“Freshly dyed, baby alpaca yarn… and angora in some beautiful shades.” She batted her eyes, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. “I promise, I won’t ask for anything else!”
“Athena… I’m gonna teach you a lesson my aunt May taught me.” Peter looked up at her with a stern look. “I’m not made of money. I’ll drop cash gladly on your yarn that doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg but if you want that really fancy crap, either wait until the holidays or your birthday. Or find a way around it. But I am not dropping that much on new yarn, when you have tons of it upstairs.”
Athena sighed heavily, looking down at the skeins she oh so desperately wanted. She already could imagine the sweaters and shawls she could create from them.
Then… she got an idea… Athena looked up at him, giving another innocent look.
“Dad? Can I have an etsy store?”
“By all means, if it gets rid of the yarn you’re stashing in my spider shed go for it.”
A few days later, Athena was listing batches of Spider-Man related memorabilia on her new etsy store, from jackets to order by commission, to premade little plushies of the famous webslinger… and a few of her own persona.
“You think people really are gonna buy Arachne stuff?” She fidgeted, looking at the tiny plushie in her hands, that resembled her costume.
Peter patted her head, taking it and slipping her a twenty. She looked up at him in surprise.
“I know at least one person who will.” He winked, giving her a grin. “I think I’ll make her my little desk guardian at work.”
Athena giggled, hugging him tightly.
“Love you Dad.”
“Love you too Weaver.”
7.  Your OC somehow obtains the ability to time travel. Where do they go, and what do they do?
She was going to stop this. She had been so determined to stop it… she didn’t think about what would happen when she did. She saw her younger self, milling around a shop room, singing under her breath.
Before she had been bitten by a radioactive spider, dropped into her dimension… while it sucked her newly divorced future parent into another.
She had been intending to jump back, to stop the divorce from happening in the first place… but it made her pause.
Her younger self, had been so alone… She had her group home, yes. Her fiber art club at school.
But years of accumulating skills, taught to her by people who had said “we promise this is the last home.” Had hurt…
Arachne stared at Athena, spotting a familiar bright green, blue and black spider crawling along the wall.
Soon, I’m gonna get bit… Then in a few months, Mom and Dad are gonna drop in on my life...
Gosh and I was gonna mess up a good thing I had…
I love my parents… but I know if I stop that, then I stop this.
Then I stop my family from existing…
So, she turned away. She jumped back to her own time, throwing away the device that was letting her make the jumps. Trading her costume, for her favorite dress and jacket, bolting down the streets towards home.
Home, with her room that had the special shelves, just for her ever growing collections of yarn and thread.
Home, with the old school sewing machine her aunt May had left to MJ when she passed.
Home, with her weaving loom and her knitting needles and crochet hooks…
Home…
With her parents.
ooooo
Aaaaahhhh this was fun, to explore Athena a little bit, since I do wanna do more for my spider gal. For now… This shall be it. This was fun!
Let’s see…
I taaaaag….
No one. >83
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dracophile · 5 years
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Wreck it Ralph 2
Thoughts, spoilers and some ideas below cut
So, I saw Wreck it Ralph 2 recently and I’ve had a little time to think and process it. And...I liked it. I liked it, but I don’t love it as much as I did the first.
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The first one was top tier Disney/Pixar to me. It had fantastic characters, great story and world building, probably the best use of their villain twist and a fantastic climax.
This one...It had a lot of interesting concepts, but it felt like it was trying to use them all without giving them real development. Again, the characters were GREAT! I love Yess and Shank, and Spamly was really funny. But they divided so much of their attention between them and what was going on with Ralph and Vanellope, it didn’t feel like either Shank or Yess--mainly Shank--were as developed as they could’ve been. Having some questions at the end of the movie is fine but feeling like major characters are strangers not so much. As much as I loved the cameos by the princesses, I almost feel like they detracted from time that could’ve been spent on the story.
I also felt like the climax was not that satisfying, especially compared to the first movie. It’s fair to compare them since this is the sequel. Compared to King Candy/Turbo’s villainous arch and reveal, and his buggy final form, and Ralph willing to sacrifice himself to blow up the bugs and save the game; compare that to just...a bunch of mindless Ralph’s? And talking it out? I mean, the message is a good one, but the unlike the inspiring reiteration of the first, this one just kind of shoved the message in your face. There was no gravitas either. What was at stake when the ralphs were rampaging? Oh, people’s internet went down, someone lost their shopping cart at Amazon--big whoop? The last one had bugs taking over everything and Turbo wanting to erase Ralph and Vanellope and sugar rush basically.
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I also feel like like Vanellope staying in Slaughter Race at the end is...confusing. Like I get it, she feels Slaughter Race is an upgrade, but she is the MAIN CHARACTER of Sugar Rush. No one is going to wonder where she went? (That’s something that did bother me before too, like did no one wonder where “King Candy” went after that day? Or people who had played the game other places wondering who the hell he was and where Vanellope was?) What if they think the game is broken again? And what do people playing Slaughter Race think she is, some kind of Gremlin? She sticks out like a sore thumb! The developers are probably confused as fuck too, what if they take her out of the game? It feels like the ending was forced based on the message, rather than actually focusing on a resolution. (part of this I could’ve forgiven if they’d enclosed her car and made her out to be a mysterious racer like the Stig from top Gear, but it still would’ve raised a lot of questions.)
All in all I think it had interesting concepts but it didn’t really meet my expectations. I realize the first one set the bar high imo, but this one just didn’t feel like it tried to reach it. Also, not enough Calhoun and Felix. You dare rob me of Jane Lynch, even when she is acting straight? How dare?!
What would I have preferred? Well, mainly, something different as far as a villain. Ralph being his own worse enemy is poetic, but it wasn’t pushed hard enough. At the very least, rather than making a bunch of copies of Ralph, what if the virus was the sort that actually infected something? First you could have an infected Vanellope, Ralph freaking out and having to get her to that gate thing (which, build up, no pay off on that front) and his confession then. But then the virus gets him and it just turns him into the kind of villain people expect. He just leeches power from other sources, getting bigger and and bigger and more volitile. Maybe the Yess and the Slaughter Racers all come out to try and distract him while figuring out how to get the virus out of him. He causes a lot more trouble for the netizens, maybe even trying to destroy sites/servers including Slaughter Race. Finally Vanellope gets through to him and Ralph actually has a battle with himself (physically and mentally) to split and stop the virus from wrecking the internet.
What I’d like even more is something to do with Slaughter Race. Maybe mirroring the first movie, there’s a “ghost” in the game--a former character that was taken out before release. Making it timely for the time, he’s your typical white male lead--let’s call him Scrapper.
Lets say in initial development, Slaughter Race was a much different game, much more generic. More clean lines, flashy cars, but no real substance or story. It was an “open world” like Slaughter race, but there was nothing to do outside of just driving against other players and Scrapper’s team. Scrapper was initially named something generic like Stephen or Charles (Arthur?) and was the initial leader or what would later be Shank’s crew in this game, and he liked it as it was because he was the center of attention. The game was made for him he felt rather than having to fit into the game. Cocky, self-congratulating, wants to win at any cost—and pretty much that way in character and out unlike Shank. Shank in this stage was also more boringly named, second in command. She wanted to focus on making the game interesting to play for the players, and was usually the voice of reason for Scrapper. They were good friends.
However, in the in first round of play testing, the game wasn’t testing well. Players found nothing really interesting about the game’s design or world, and they found Scrapper difficult to beat, but also annoying and redundant. He had his fans of course, but most felt there was nothing new or exciting about him or the game. They liked his car though. Many of the open beta players actually gravitated more towards Shank, finding her mysterious and much more interesting, wanting her to be a bigger part of the game. They also wanted more story, and a more interesting setting than the sleek, modern city, with stuff to actually do other than just going around a race track on a set pattern. They wanted something darker and grittier. It got to the point where the developers reworked the script and setting from scratch to make Slaughter Race. Scrapper wasn’t keen on the chaos, the craziness, compared to his modern utopia but it was much more well received. Shank was down with the changes, enjoying the freedom and the creativity it allowed, and tried to convince Scrapper this was good. But “Scrapper” was still not well liked. So a further rework was done before a full release to make Shank the leader, and Scrapper her second in command. To do this, they copied Scrapper’s racing abilities over to Shank, and nerfed him down.
Scrapper was not happy to say the least. Shank didn’t want him upset, still considering him a friend, but at the same time she embraced the changes and was flourishing. She was also a great leader and the gang was doing much better too. She’s happy, she just wishes it wasn’t at his expense. Scrapper starts belittling Shank, making her insecure about herself. There are those who are really mean about it online too--which is how Shank met Yess. Yess saw a video of her and came to meet her, wanting to feature her. She really helps bolster Shank’s confidence and they become good friends. Scrapper isn’t happy but they try to do their jobs. He gets more and more bitter until he starts lashing out in game, trying to mess things up for Shank. The players and developers think it’s some sort of bug and try to figure it out. Scrapper fans think it’s hilarious and encourage him, so to speak. Shank and Scrapper fight a lot until finally, it gets so bad he crashes the game one day. The developers decide he’s too buggy and write Scrapper out of the game. But he’s still there, lurking behind the scenes…but not very powerful now.
Enter Ralph. Scrapper is able to narrow in on Ralph’s distrust/jealousy of Shank and gets him to where he can talk to Ralph alone. He plays on Ralph’s insecurity and his past with Vanellope when Ralph tells him. he weaves a sob story about Shank stealing his code and his spotlight and Ralph is more convinced Shank is just like Turbo and a danger to Vanellope. Scrapper convinces Ralph to help him out of the game and, with Spamley’s help, down to the dark web to find a way to get his body back.To do so requires a virus that lets him take over other codes. Ralph brings it back to him and Scrapper starts by taking the code of some of the other NPC’s, abosrbing them. Ralph is horrified, but now Scrapper is going on a binge, taking the codes and data from everyone and everything, altering them back to what he wants.
The altering game puts Vanellope and Shank in danger and they barely manage to get away in Shanks car outside of the game while Scrapper still is going wild. Ralph confesses, Vanllope is livid again that he would do this, and shank tells them the truth about Scrapper. (The lesson becomes more about getting rid of toxic people in your life as much as following your dreams and Vanellope is still mad at Ralph). Scrapper escapes the game and starts causing even more havoc outside of it, Yess comes and chews him out, showing him comments about how the majority hate this “new” look for Slaughter race. He goes ballistic. Ralph tries to fight him and gets abosrbed, and the two personalities are warring with each other through the net. Vanellope and Shank (and maybe the princesses if we wanted to include them still, because I would) manage to get him down and Spamely and the others bring something to extract Scrapper and Ralph. Scrapper fights back and for a moment it seems like Ralph might’ve been deleted. But he’s okay. Vanellope forgives him and Ralph makes a promise with her--rather than doing the same thing all the time, they’ll find new things to do to keep life interesting, and he’ll understand if sometimes she wants to go to Slaughter Race as a guest character--he’ll stay home and watch the highlights.
That’s my take on this, I’m mostly just getting it down so it will leave me alone in my head.
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wizardwisenmore · 6 years
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Love Like A Candle
 Dimensions upon dimensions exist within the manifold scattered across the web of existence, each containing their own wonders. Ehvil has just entered one such dimension, having just cleared the bright light that comes with transporting, they see they see thousands of mushroom structures. Tiny mushroom houses and buildings with all the strange one-eyed, bipedal creatures who live here frozen in awe of Ehvil. They stare up at them, a giant in their tiny world. They sigh in frustration before looking at their Magnum Device, nodding almost sagely at it. Looking up again, they scan the area before spotting the issue they came here to solve. A dark object appears in the sky above the small civilization that has just begun to take action in response to Ehvil’s sudden appearance. They’ve already got a government official involved. Before the attempt to make official contact takes place, Ehvil calmly lifts a hand and proceeds to manifest an energy field that slows down the approaching object enough that it isn’t burning from the atmosphere but not quite enough so it till tweaks Ehvil’s wrist when they catch the soccer ball sized object. Then they nod to the general populace before disappearing in another flash of light.
Once again in their room, they set the near-catastrophic asteroid on a bookshelf among other similar “trophies.” They look through their logs and check it off. While searching for another task, a pile of books and datapads is knocked over which catches their attention. The cause of the commotion is their favorite cousin, Dyson. He’s a strange fellow who portrays the traits of his mother who was a part of species known as Meticules. The Meticules are a mammalian race that are smooth like humans but with flat, pure white features that cause their bright, kaleidoscope-like eyes to stand out, all topped with a shock of white hair. They’re supposed to be very well balanced as they need to scale icy structures quite often. Dyson can be forgiven his clumsiness since he is a Temploculus more than he is a Meticule. He shuffles the items back into place before clearing his throat, hiding his embarrassment. Ehvil quirks an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to gather himself.
“So,” he doesn’t look them in the eye, not a good sign, “How’d it go?”
In response, Ehvil just pats the large lump of rock on their bookshelf.
“Ah, so good then?” Dyson offers as he becomes increasingly nervous.
Ehvil nods.
“Okay, yeah, I’m uh... here to check on you because Great Mother thinks you might be avoiding looking at the list of suitors she’s compiled.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think of them.”
“She likes getting your opinion. Great Mother says it ‘gives her a necessary perspective’ just so you know.”
“Quite the generous compliment coming from our Great Mother.”
“I think you should at least look at one name. You never know... You might like someone she’s picked.”
“All of them will be for their power and to further diversify the bloodline and nothing more.”
“She is very pleased you are a true hybrid,” Dyson stresses making their lineage sound like a gift from the gods.
“Yeah, what use is being a true hybrid if I can’t shift like the rest of you?” Ehvil bites out bitterly.
Dyson sighs as the have the same argument they’ve been having for as long as they could remember.
“Please just look at one,” Dyson begs.
“She’s fifty thousand years old, she should know how to wait for a week or two. You’d think all those years would teach her how to be patient,” Ehvil mutters.
“So, you will?”
“Yeah...” Ehvil concedes, “Hand me the stupid datapad.”
Dyson does gleefully, relieved to be rid of his task. Ehvil quietly scans the list until they glance at a name from a dimension they had looked over just a moment ago. Well, they could kill two birds with one stone this way. They hand the list back to Dyson and casually fling a portal open.
“Tell Great Mother I’m visiting Tenebris Kull in the Oculus Dimension. I’m sure that’ll appease her for now.”
“Will do,” Dyson grins, “ Have fun and... Please give him a chance, you know, for all our sake.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ehvil waves as they disappear through the shimmering portal.
Dark, cubular buildings clustered and stacked together are softly illuminated by the setting sun. Red an purple lanterns decorate the buildings and light the street. Black figures with glowing, solidly colored eyes and four arms dressed in bright fabrics stare at Ehvil as they take in the scenery. The sweet smell of flowers floats through the air of the cool evening. They decide this world is a pleasant one so it might not be so bad to stay here for a while. They move towards the grand structure that is a kind of layered pyramid illuminated from within. Intimidating guards stand at the gate of the wall surrounding the structure wearing little armor over their green tunics but even under the loose fabric it’s clear they’re not to be messed with. So, of course, Ehvil walks right up to them with an easy gate nonplussed. The guards ready themselves, an intimidating display meant to impress visitors and to scare off those that would make trouble. Ehvil looks up at one of them before clearing their throat.
“Ehvil Goldheart,” they introduce themself, “I’m here to see Tenebris Kull. He’s supposed to be here?”
The guards stiffen at their name and immediately open  the gates once they’ve finished. A wide path of opalescent stone pans out before them bordered by bioluminescent gardens interwoven with grassy pathways between slanted planters of the same opalescent stone that makes up the pathway. Jagged, ironwork lanterns contain some kind of free energy that covers the area in blue light. The visiting Temploculus marvels at the dark bushes and trees that have swirls of purple, green, and blue light. The entire scene is undeniably beautiful no matter how much they wish they could look upon it all with indifference, they can’t deny the sheer natural wonder before them as they gaze at the garden. Then again, they’ve always had a weak spot for gardening no matter how technologically inclined they may be. The little violet succulents with tendrils tipped with softly bobbing yellow lights are the last straw and Ehvil accepts they are in love with this garden. They take their time to reach the stairs up to the grand entrance that opens before them  as their arrival was now anticipated. Accompanied by an entire entourage of servants decked out in white and silver, a regal figure in silvery robes and an iron circlet approaches Ehvil in the grand hall. He locks his solid green eyes on Ehvil, unable to make direct eye contact due to the dark glasses they wear. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, a warm smile, muscular, hands that move with purpose; all these traits belong to this monarch. Really, they should be swooning. Ehvil contemplates the individual before them and decides to just let this play out.
“Ehvil Goldheart of Templocula, I welcome you to my home,” each word resonates in a deep tenor so they almost rumble, “I am Tenebris Kull, Liege and Master over this realm. Your Great Mother said we might be expecting you but I didn’t think it would be so soon. This is more than I had dared to hope for.”
“I’m not sure what you’re expecting from my arrival but I am here to get to know you. I hope you don’t think this means a decision has been made.”
“No,” he assures them, “I would never presume without a clear answer. For now, I’d like to ask you to join me for dinner and I can show you the capital tomorrow.”
“I’d like that very much,” Ehvil dips their head, “thank you.”
Tenebris gestures back where he came from in an open request to join him. Ehvil walks over to him and together they walk through the pillared hall over lush carpet with firelight shining on them. The servants trail behind them silently with barely a hush of their robes brushing over the carpet. They must have practiced for years to be so quiet, perhaps, so they might seem as though they aren’t even there. They turn left into a complex of statues that lead to a smaller hall and into a large dining hall with room for at least sixty guests. The hall is mostly dark apart from one end of the long, stone dining table. Mobile lanterns with the same eerie blue glow shine over two set places. Tenebris takes his place at the end of the table and Ehvil sits to his right. The servants quickly serve them from the platters set before them and fill their glasses with a viscous, dark purple fluid. Then they take their leave and the two at least appear to be alone.
“Would it be alright if I skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the heart of the matter?” Tenebris begins, tentatively swirling the purple drink in its glass.
“No,” Ehvil says flatly, “I want to go through all of the boring ‘what a nice evening’ ‘s, ‘how are you’ ‘s, and ‘what a lovely meal’ ‘s then we may begin to discuss the possibility of my Great Mother choosing you to be the one I marry.”
Tenebris pauses with a look that could only mean that he’s at a loss for words. His third and fourth hands weave fingers together and separate them. He gestures with his second, looking for something to say.
“I’m kidding,” Ehvil says and carefully tastes the drink. It’s sweet like over ripe fruit and herbal in an oddly pleasant way.
“Oh, I see,” Tenbris grins, relieved, “How exactly will a spouse be chosen for you? Your Great Mother wasn’t very clear on that matter.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Ehvil shrugs, “There’s a list of over forty. They’re all from different dimensions with no clear pattern other than they all have some reasonable standing and are intelligent. What system she has for ranking you all, I don’t know. My Great Mother is not one for sharing her full thought process for anything.”
“So, we’re both in the dark then.”
“I’d say that’s accurate.”
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